#usually with this progression of hurt throat to sore throat

[prestonmonterey]

i hate bein sick :(

could someone send me asks or somethin im really bored and cant do anything today

[fourmoony]

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐓: Chapter Three.

After breaking your ankle in the wake of a break up, you're determined to get through your senior year without any interference from James Potter. That is, until his loyalty to loose cannon Sirius Black lands him straight in your lap. Or, rather, your kiddie-skate group.

CW: language, abandonment, falling, mentions of broken bone and reconstructive metal work, cheating.

ITN Masterlist

You –

The ice is smooth, freshly pressed by the Zamboni. You should be nervous. Usually, you’d be nervous. But you’re tired. Exhausted, actually. If Pince knew how much you want to turn boot and skate off the other side of the ice, she’d probably have an aneurism. This is it: your chance to become a National Champion. The gateway to worlds, to the Olympics. And all you can think about is the gaping hole in your chest, the knot your stomach has wound its way into. The sound of James’ truck door slamming an echo in the back of your head.

The crowd is silent, and your programme music starts. Four minutes. You only need to make it four minutes. Four minutes until you can walk away and spend the summer wallowing. Four minutes that hang over you like a heavy weight.

You know this routine like the back of your hand. You’ve practiced it so much you could do it in your sleep. Spins, jumps, twists. Every one of them brings a different memory. James picking you up off of your ass, frustrated and angry, sending you back to try again with encouraging words and an even more encouraging kiss. He’d cheer when you landed and buy you chocolate cake on the way home.

The music is loud and overwhelming. It grates on your skin. Images of James, of your happiest moments, of everything you lost – they spin and jump along with you. Heavy as the rain that soaked you on the twenty-minute walk back to your apartment that night. It hurts too much, burns too hot.

Pince likes to say that careers can end in a split second. You know well that they can. All it takes is a bad jump, a distraction. You’ve seen it happen. Countless young athletes losing their careers over one bad move. One fracture, one broken bone, one chip on the ice. One second and it’s all gone.

One second and you’re on the ice.

One second and the resounding crack of bone slices through the crowd.

One second and the lights have gone up.

One second and your entire life leading up to this moment flashes before your eyes.

One second and the world stops.

One second before the shattered sob leaves your throat and it all goes black.

Your ankle clicks and crunches when you roll it. It’s uncomfortable, but not sore – and as much as you hate to admit it, Pomfrey is right; that’s progress. Your toe touches the ground, your calf burns, your ankle hits a breaking point. With a wince, you straighten it, repeat the motion. The stretch room off the back of the rink is empty this early in the morning. The hockey team doesn’t come in for practice for another two hours, the ice is fresh, and as soon as the feeling comes back to the ball of your ankle, you’re going to make use of the free time.

With a breath, you pull your leg up, run the edge of your nail along the skin of your scar. There’s no feeling against the skin, there. It comes and goes, the numbness. Your doctor’s say it’s a side effect of the surgery, the damage to the nerve endings, the pins, the screws. Your finger trails a pattern up your leg, back down, over the ragged ridges of the marred skin. It’s starting to feel normal, the ways you need to live your life. Stretches every day, physical rehabilitation, being barely able to wear heels, mobility, and flexibility issues. Lily likes to joke that you’re a walking-talking-live version of the Met Office. The change in weather is, admittedly, easier to assume with the metal work in your ankle.

It’s been hard – rehabilitating. It’s been sore and scary, and there doesn’t seem to be an end in sight. Remus talks, often, about the limitations that his condition puts on his career. It’s nice, in a twisted sort of way, to have someone who knows your pain. In comparison, your pain is a nick on Remus’ radar. His pain is chronic, his bones brittle and damaged. His career will be short lived – but, you know without a doubt that his time in the NHL will be legendary, regardless.

The feeling comes back slowly, to the slow rhythm of your finger tracing up and down. You stand, after a while, and reach for your skate bag. You don’t bother with shoes, socked feet padding against the rubber flooring all the way down to the team box. To your surprise, the ice is populated when you get to the plastic door into the benched area. Sirius and Remus are skating laps around the ice, passing a puck back and forth. They don’t have their kit on, just joggers and their team sweatshirts. James is in the same attire, socked feet kicked up on the bottle shelf beneath the boards. His hands are stuffed in his pockets, hood over his hair. Stray, dark strands of chocolate brown curling out the sides. He looks tired. Exhausted, even.

His eyes follow Remus and Sirius around the rink, ever the dutiful, attentive captain. You know there’s millions of play ideas running through his head, critiques on players that aren’t even in James’ eyesight. It’s astounding, though you hate to admit it, how good of a leader James is.

“You’re all here early.” You say, setting your skate bag beside James on the metal bench.

Your ex startles, eyes wide behind his glasses when he looks over. It’s odd, to think over the Summer he’s somehow forgotten to remember your schedule. He used to know it off by heart. You skate every Saturday morning before the hockey team starts their practice. Realisation crosses his features, like the ghost of a past life passing through his eyes. “Shit, I’ll pull them off. Sorry.” James apologises, pulling his feet from the shelf and sitting forward like he’s getting ready to call Sirius and Remus in.

“No, it’s fine. I’m cool as long as they are.” You take a seat, unzipping your skate bag.

James nods, swallows. The silence is thick, almost suffocating. There’s no flirty conversation, no teasing, no kind words of encouragement. Things have changed. As much as James promised they wouldn’t – they have. It has a lot to do with how things ended, you suppose. As long as you were together, you’d always thought it’d be your careers, the distance, that split you up. Your ex-boyfriend places his feet on the rubber mats below the bench, bounces his legs. “They’ll stay out of your way, just watch out for stray pucks.”

“Got it. You okay?” You ask as you sit down to tie your skates. “You look exhausted.”

James’ hazel eyes follow Sirius and Remus around the rink. You don’t think they’ve noticed your presence, yet. Content in their own world. “Yeah. All good.”

It’s a lie. You both know it. But you’re not the person James is going to talk to about that, anymore. You don’t have a response for him, so you take your skate guards off and leave him to stew in the box. The air is cold against your face, a pleasant feeling. Sirius and Remus have scratched the ice a little with their skates and sticks, but it’ll be fine. They hear your blades scratching the closer you get, turn to you as you approach.

“Hey, I just want to run my routine a couple times before tomorrow. I’ll try stay out of your way.” You tell them.

Sirius’ eyes flick to James almost protectively, like he’s checking his captain, his best friend, is aware of your presence. Since you and James broke up, you haven’t heard much from Sirius. It’s not that he’s picking sides – though, you wouldn’t blame him for picking James. What they have is unique. They’re bonded. But it hurts a little. Stings, because there was a time where Sirius was one of your best friends. You’d all been close. It feels now, like Lily and Remus are the only ones who make an effort.

“You have practice tonight, your ankle going to be okay?” Remus asks, pushing the puck back and forth absentmindedly.

“How’s your knee?” You deflect.

Remus bites back a grin and scoffs good naturedly, but Sirius’ eyes fly down to Remus’ knee as though he’ll be able to see through layers of clothes and skin, right down to the muscle. He looks almost panicked. Then, he looks back up, icy blues lit with a fire you’ve never been on the receiving end of. “He’s fine.”

“Relax, Sirius. I know he is.” Your eyes burn, a little, “I’ll try stay out of your way.”

Remus mutters something to Sirius – likely chastising him. You’re on the other side of the rink, pretending not to care, so you don’t hear it.

They stay out of your way for the majority of your ice time. Only one stray puck gets in your way, and James calls out in a panic when you almost land on it. Instead, you miss a jump and shout a shaky thanks as you clamber back to your feet on the ice. He stays firmly in the box – making you wonder why he even bothered to come to the ice this morning, at all. Not that it’s any of your business. Remus and Sirius run drills on one half of the ice whilst you weave in and around them. It’s not until you’re on your last run through that your foot goes numb. It’s quick, instant. You land on your ankle, there’s no feeling there, your leg buckles.

You hit the ice with a nasty amount of noise. Skates scraping and clashing, a whoosh of pained air. Your hip hurts, a searing pain that you already know will need to be iced. It takes a minute to gather your surroundings, turning until you’re sitting up. “Jesus,” You mutter, angry. It feels like this will never end – the numbness, the frustration, falling. It’s been months of your ankle going numb mid practice. Months of falling on your ass. “Fuck!”

Remus is at your side in an instant, Sirius close behind him. “Okay, up. Up, C’mon.”

You know you can’t get up, but you refuse to admit why. No one knows. Not even Pomfrey, not even Pince. You can’t run the risk of needing a surgery to fix the nerve endings. Can’t risk having to sit this season out. “Remus, give me a minute.”

“No, the longer you sit there, the less likely you’re going to go again. Up. Now.” Your best friend holds his hand out.

He’s just trying to help. But there’s anger simmering in your chest. Hot and raw and you want to lash out. For the first time, you think you understand why Remus is the way he is. So, you look at him, really, truly look at him and you think he understands. James crouches in front of you, eyes brimming with concern. You hate how much relief the sight of him brings you. Remus turns and drags Sirius off. They go back to their own corner of the ice. Your eyes well with tears.

“What’s goin’ on?” James asks.

His hands rest on the skate covering your bad ankle. You can’t feel them. The thought panics you because what if? What if one day, the feeling never comes back and it’s too late? James notices the fear in your eyes, his finger reaches up to press into your calf and you flinch. A look of understanding passes across his features, brows scrunching and dipping in the middle. “No one knows?”

“No one can know.”

James looks like he disagrees, but he nods. “I’ll bare your weight to get you up. Feet flat or Remus will notice, but weight bare on your good ankle.”

He doesn’t have to do this. He shouldn’t care. It’s not his role, anymore. But you nod, regardless. Even if the idea of him helping you lights a furious rage inside of you because how dare he act like he gives a shit now? You need to get off the ice, though. So you give him both of your hands, left blade flat on the ice as he pulls you up. Your hip screams at you, but you ignore it in favour of James’ socked feet. He’s run out onto the ice without shoes on.

“You’re going to get frost-bite.” You murmur, eyes flicking up to find his already on you.

He looks sad. Nostalgic, maybe. “Worth it.”

Your heart cracks open in your chest as you let James lead you off of the ice, all the while praying he doesn’t go full James and snitch on you to Pince, thinking he’s doing you some sort of favour. You have it under control. You’re dealing with it.

Maybe just not as well as you’d originally thought.

Regulus –

Barty is lying, rather annoyingly, half on Regulus’ legs and half on the bed. But he won’t ask Barty to move. As much as a distraction he’s made himself, Regulus finds he quite enjoys the idea that Barty wants to be this close to him. The sketch book on his lap stares up at him tauntingly. There’s half-finished scribbles of planets and stars; none of which Regulus has the energy to perfect. He does, however, have a strong notion to draw the way Barty’s body is curling around his legs. Regulus isn’t sure how to feel about that, so he ignores it; because if he thinks too much about it, he’ll start to push Barty away.

He’s aware that this isn’t going to last. Just like he’s aware that after his thesis paper is published, he’ll be returning to Grimmauld Place. Taking over Black Industries is probably at the bottom of the list of things Regulus wants to do with his life. But the thing about Barty Crouch is that he’s persuasive. He’s irresistible, as Regulus has come to realise. It’s more than just his regal looking cheek bones and sinful smile, his toned body, and tattoos that make Regulus more inspired to draw than he ever has; if only to one day see one of his drawings on Barty’s pale skin – it’s also his carefree attitude, his rebellious nature, and the big, bold, ‘fuck you’ middle finger he holds up to the world that makes Regulus want to get wrapped up in him and never get free.

He wishes he could keep Barty, but he can’t. So, he won’t draw him. For now, he’ll enjoy his rebellious streak brought about by the sarcastic, smart mouth, piece of shit guy he met in the art supply store in the spring and worry about the calendar counting down his return to Grimmauld place later.

Admitting defeat, Regulus places his sketchbook and pencil on his bedside table. Barty stirs at the movement, head straining to look at Regulus with a devious grin. He threads his fingers through the soft strands of Barty’s inky black hair and smiles softly. It’s obvious his smile isn’t believable, because Barty huffs, pushes himself up until he’s straddling Regulus’ hips. He’s not in the mood for whatever Barty is about to initiate, but Barty seems to notice that because his eyes soften. “What’s on your mind?”

Regulus studies Barty. He really is very beautiful. He’d be easy to draw. The itch is there. But he can’t. So, he won’t. “I was thinking that I can’t focus when you’re lounging over me like a stray cat.” It’s obvious in his voice that it’s a lie. But the good thing about Barty is that he doesn’t push Regulus to talk when he clearly doesn’t want to.

“We both know that you’re the cat, in this relationship, Regulus. You’re all claws and uptight attitude.” The boy on top of Regulus quips, a smile that tells Regulus he’s rather pleased with himself.

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not all claws.” Because Regulus knows he’s uptight.

Barty grins. It’s charming and knowing, practically dripping with sin. He reaches for the neckline of his t-shirt; acts like he’s going to pull it upward. “Should we look at my back?”

Regulus holds the hem around Barty’s waist and tugs, scowling. “No, let’s not.”

Barty laughs, collapsing on top of Regulus. He enjoys the weight, presses his fingers into his shoulder blades because he knows he likes rough touches. Gentle touches make him jumpy. He listens to Barty laugh for a while, enjoys the sound of it vibrating against the skin of his neck. He stares at the ceiling and wonders if he should tell Barty that one of the reasons he’s struggling to draw is probably because his estranged brother has cropped his ugly head up.

Barty is good with advice. Mainly because the majority of his advice is to get high and ignore all of your problems. His mother would pitch a fit if she knew all the shit Regulus was getting up to, these days. She calls once a week, always short and curt. It’s more of a call to make sure Regulus is behaving, than to check in on how he’s actually doing. He’s not sure what he’s going to tell her when she asks who his student assistant ended up being. If she knew, she’d likely pull him out of university all together and ban him from leaving the house ever again. Not that he had any choice in who it was.

“Sirius is my student assistant.” He breathes out, the admittance bringing a hollow ache to his chest.

He doesn’t talk much about Sirius. Mainly because it hurts, leaves a bitter taste in his mouth that as much as he tried, nothing was ever good enough for his older brother. Not enough to make him stay. And Regulus knows that expecting Sirius to stay was unfair – maybe it’s more to do with the idea that he left him there. Scared, alone. Baring the crown that Sirius found too heavy. Barty lifts his head until his eyes meet Regulus’. Reading, trying to gage how he should treat this. He’s not sure if he wants Barty to get him high and help him say fuck you to his problems, or if he wants him to offer to kick the shit out of Sirius.

“Okay. Go on.” Barty urges, fingers tracing Regulus’ collar bones.

The feeling grounds him as he huffs and closes his eyes. Thinking. Trying to sort through his emotions because, really, he’s not sure how he feels about it.

“He said I’m just like our father. I was a dick to him.”

Barty smiles sadly. “You were surprised to see him.”

“I knew I’d see him, eventually. I mean, I’ve done a good job of avoiding him. But I thought, maybe naively, when I came to Hogwarts that maybe there’d be a chance he’d want to explain. But he didn’t. He just looked at me with pure hatred and stormed off into the stacks.” It sounds childish, the way Regulus’ voice takes on a petulant whine.

But Barty nods, like he understands. He doesn’t. He doesn’t have siblings, but he does have an uncomfortable family situation. So, he’s sympathetic, at least. “Maybe he’s scared to apologise because he thinks you won’t hear him.” Barty offers.

“Maybe. Or maybe he’s just an asshole.”

The other boy scoffs amusedly, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, maybe.”

“You think he’d want me to be a part of his life? If I could forgive him.” Regulus asks, hating how insecure he sounds.

Barty presses his lips to Regulus’. It’s soft, caring. Rare, for them. “I dunno Sirius. I’ve never met him. But I do know that anyone who doesn’t want a part of you in their life is a fucking idiot. And you don’t need another idiot in your life. You already have me.”

He likes that answer, so he kisses Barty until they’re both a mess of tangled limbs and swollen lips. Until it turns out that there’s other ways to forget his problems. And all of them suddenly have a lot to do with Barty Crouch.

James –

He’s pacing. He knows he’s pacing, and he knows that his footsteps are clunking against the wooden floorboards, and that Remus will likely lose his mind if he continues. But James can’t stop. It’s how he thinks, how he processes. Years of thinking on his feet, of having to have a mind as sharp as a tack, having to move whilst processing a hundred different outcomes. The only outcome he can think of right now is you hating him even more than you already do when he inevitably goes to Pince and tells her that your ankle isn’t properly healed.

He did the necessary reading to conclude that prolonged numbness is definitely not a normal side effect of having a reconstructive surgery. A temporary side effect, yes. But it’s been months since your surgery. That’s not a good sign, according to a very reliable source (if you count Reddit as a reliable source; James isn’t sure if he does). And he knows he’s catastrophising. He’s prone to it. But he’s worried. And wouldn’t he rather you hate him that little bit more and eventually be able to get back on the ice next year (after another surgery, Reddit had confirmed) than risk it all now and never skate again? James doesn’t feel qualified to make that decision. He hasn’t been a captain long, and even then, it’s not like he’s in charge of people’s livelihoods. He wouldn’t have taken the job if that was the case.

James knows how much Nationals means for you – it’s the gateway to the World Championships, to the Olympics. He cost you that last year, and he hates himself for it. Is he really willing to do that to you again? He’s not sure. So, he paces. He loses count of how many times he picks up his phone and almost hits the green call button next to your name. He’s not even sure you’d answer, even less sure of what he’d say to you if, by some miracle, you answered. ‘I think you should miss out on Nationals again, this year, have another risky surgery and hope for the best. Okay, bye!’ doesn’t exactly seem like a good plan to him.

Remus is the embodiment of exhaustion when he pushes James’ bedroom door open and leans against the frame like a parent ready to chastise their hyper-active child. James cringes. Remus needs all the rest he can get. Between hospital appointments, hockey, and his classes, he never stops. “Sorry. I’ll try be quieter.” His voice comes out rushed and anxious, an alarm bell sounding off to alert Remus of his worry.

The taller boy tilts his head and studies James. Sometimes, he loves how perceptive Remus can be. It helps offence, and it generally means that he’s a better friend. But now, he shifts awkwardly because for the second time in the space of a year, he’s keeping a secret from his best friend. He hates lying to Remus. But your words play on a loop in his head. No one can know. You’d been so scared. Terrified, even, at the idea of everything you’ve worked for over the summer being ripped away from you. Call James selfish, but he doesn’t particularly want to be the one to do it. Even though he knows he should because it will be better in the long run.

“Or” Remus suggests, “You could stop pacing and tell me what’s going on with Y/N.”

James opens his mouth. Subsequently closes it because he doesn’t know what to say. He won’t betray your trust. He hates lying to Remus. But he knows, ultimately, if he really doesn’t want to talk about it, his best friend won’t push him.

He feels himself shrug, his best attempt at feigning nonchalance. “Don’t know what you mean.”

Remus’ honey eyes read like a book. He knows James is lying, scrutinising him whilst simultaneously trying to figure out why he’s lying for you. As far as Remus knows he’s on bad terms with you. And technically, that’s true. But James would give anything to fix that. He just hasn’t figured out how, yet.

“You know,” Remus pushes off the door frame, ever the one for imparting wisdom in the most dramatic of ways and pushes his hands into his pockets. “If I didn’t know well enough, I’d say you’re trying to decide her future for her. I can tell you right now, that won’t end well. Whatever it is she’s hiding, I’ve been there. It’s a hard lesson to learn, but one she has to do on her own.

“Don’t make her hate you any more than she does now, James. I’m still rooting for you.”

“You know?” James asks, throat dry.

“About the numbness or you cheating on her?” Remus asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer before he leaves James standing, alone, in the middle of his room with a sinking feeling that he’s let everyone down.

He’s not sure how Remus knows. Maybe you told him even though you’d told James you weren’t going to tell anyone.

An amicable breakup, you’d suggested. It’ll save us both the embarrassment.

He hates himself. Hates himself for all of the things he wishes he’d sat you down and forced you to listen to over the summer. Hates that he didn’t fight for you more. There’s so much you don’t know. So much you don’t want to hear. So much James wishes he’d done differently. Starting with how he wishes he’d run out onto the ice, consequences be damned, the minute he saw you land on your ankle, the minute he heard you sobbing in pain. He wishes he hadn’t walked away, feeling sorry for himself that he’d ripped Nationals from you. That, despite how hard he’d tried, he’d still failed you.

And he hates even more that he even considered doing it for a second time.

James sits on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands, and he decides there and then that he’s not going to tell Pince. But he is, even if you fight him every step of the way, going to find a way to fix this for you. You’ll have a chance at Nationals if it’s the last thing James does.

And it starts with a call to Euphemia Potter.

[smolbonbon]

Whether you like it or not you're stuck with me

Solar/Moon fanfiction (but can be read as platonic)

⚠️TW: past abuse, panic attacks, fever dream (But a lot of comfort and bonding)

I hope you enjoy it <3

It's already been a week after Solar and Moon rescued the smaller jester and as always, Solar was glued to the computer.

He and Moon made a lot of progress on their project, but it's not finished yet. It's one of Solar's top priorities, to make sure Lunar is safe at all times, he has to make sure nothing happens, and that Eclipse won't get their bloody hands on them again.

But for some reason, he couldn't just focus.

He felt a heavy feeling in his body like everything was just pulling him down. Also, he keeps sneezing even though he cleaned his fans a few days ago. Then there was the sore feeling in his joints.

His hands also seemed not to be able to stop shaking. It wasn't unusual that the dark Sun animatronic had problems with his body, but it was worse than usual.

Was it stress? It couldn't be. He dealt with worse, and unlike the past, this was nothing. He even has way less on his plate than before.

Actually, when was the last time he slept? Perhaps it's the need for rest that is causing this.

Solar would normally drink coffee right now, but drinks or food just don't sound appealing at the moment.

The grumpy bot shook his head and tried to focus on the monitor. It needed to be done but when he blinked at the monitor he couldn't make anything out of the numbers, and before he knew, his head was already on the desk.

Oh whatever, a little nap wouldn't hurt. Maybe sleeping for an hour will do, then he will finish it. Yeah, that sounds like a plan.

When Moon was entering the daycare, he had a feeling that Solar was on the security desk.

Moon squinted his eyes and saw Solar was sleeping, but the grumpy solar bot wasn't alone.

The smaller jester was just standing in front of the security desk.

What was Ruin doing? As Ruin could feel the stare bore into him, he suddenly turned in Moon's direction and waved with a smile.

Moon would be lying if that didn't make him feel unsettled. He might look innocent, but Moon knew better than to judge a book by its cover.

Before he knew, his legs moved faster and when he opened the door, Ruin was walking towards Moon.

"Erh hello Moon! I was just about to look for you." Moon raised an eyebrow and instinctively moved to Solar.

"Yes, I'm here. What's up?" Ruin gave Moon a worried glance.

"Y-You see I was looking for Solar first and when I did, I couldn't help but notice that Solar.. uh fans are very loud. And normally, when an animatronic is in standby modus it's not usually that loud."

Moon put his hand on Solar's arm, and he noted how warm the Solar animatronic felt. Moon crouched down and softly nudged him.

"Solar wake up."

Solars fans blasted as he woke up. He groaned as he pulled himself up, and he held his head, everything was spinning.

Moon rubbed his arm gently. "You're doing alright there buddy?" 

Solar blinked at him and then looked at Ruin. "I guess."

Moon moved his hand to Solar's cheek before he knew Solar leaned in. Then Moon moved closer to him and scanned him.

"You're hot." To Solar's response, he only let out a strangled noise and blinked at him confused. 

"What?"

"You're overheating! Did you overwork yourself again?!" Moon hissed, Ruin fidgeted with his hands and just watched the interaction between them.

Solar leaned back into his chair. "No, I'm sure that I didn't. Also, I was just taking a nap." Solar rasped out.

Moon didn't ignore the fact that Solar's voice sounded strained. Moon let out a sigh as he realized what was happening.

"I think you caught the virus Ruin and I had." Solar raised a brow.

"But I didn't touch the barrier like you two did." Moon opened his mouth but didn't say anything. He was right. Solar didn't, so how did he catch it? 

Ruin cleared his throat to get their attention, with success. "Gentlemen, I don't mean to interrupt, but I have a theory about how Solar did catch it,"

Ruin looked at them with a nervous smile, as if he was embarrassed to mention it.

"perhaps the cause is through the sleepover you two had when Moon was sick."

Solar let out an embarrassed sound and Moon pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh.

"That explains it. Viruses can spread through electricity." Moon spoke softly, ignoring the heat growing on his faceplate.

"C'mon let's get you to bed." Moon said pushy while grabbing his hands.

Solar let out a huff as the Lunar bot pulled him up.

"Alright, alright give me a second." Solar mumbled grumpy, he knew he wouldn't be able to work, he couldn't even stand without holding on to something. 

"Ruin, Earth will be here any second. Can you tell her that I'm with Solar in his room?" Ruin stood straight and saluted. "Will do!" He replied enthusiastically.

Moon and Solar made their way to the room. Solar bumped into Moon every now and again. He tried to focus on walking in a straight line, but it didn't help that his sight was blurry.

"Want me to carry you?" Moon teased, and Solar chuckled.

"What, don't you want me to return the favor from last time?" Moon nudged Solar and rolled his eyes.

"What favor? I only carried you to your room when you passed out. It's the last thing I could've done." Moon shrugged.

"I would rather carry you before you pass out."

"I'll let you know if I want to be carried." Solar said playfully, and when they reached the theater he placed his hand on Moon's shoulder.

"But if you don't mind, I will put my hand on your shoulder, so I can walk straight."

"Sure things will go ahead." 

Solar sat down on his bed and leaned against the wall. The cold feeling of the wall made the Solar bot sigh, he closed his eyes and stretched.

There was a silence for a moment.

"You want to sleep?"

Solar thought about it. Yes, he was tired, but he didn't really want to be alone either, so he shook his head.

Asking him to stay while he sleeps sounds stupid. Moon is a busy guy, and the last thing he needs is to nurse him back to health. Even if he did that for him. Moon is not obligated to do the same thing for him.

The feeling of the mattress sinking under a new weight pulled him out of his thoughts. Solar opened his eyes a bit and saw how Moon crisscrossed next to him.

"You know you don't have to stay here if you're busy." Solar rasped out, but he felt tense at the thought of being alone.

"Nah, I'm good it can wait. Whether you like it or not, you're stuck with me."

Moon simply replied, Solar softly smiled and rolled his eyes.

"Terrifying." He said sarcastically as he felt more heat creeping into his faceplate. Moon chuckled quietly as he leaned back.

Solar felt an annoying ache in his body and his joints were stiff. He pointed to the hip flask next to Moon and Moon handed it to Solar.

"Not drinking alcohol, where are we?"

Solar barks out a laugh.

"Moon, you know there is no alcohol in this thing. But it wouldn't be such a bad idea for the pain." Moon grinned and shrugged.

"To be fair, this thing is not meant for oil."

Solar popped open the flask and dumped oil on his stiff joints. "I don't care for what it's made, as long it's handy." Moon nodded to his response.

Moon started to fidget with his hat. "Honestly, my first thought when I saw Ruin was that he did something to you. He stood in front of you and stared at you menacingly until he realized I was at the entrance of the daycare."

Moon continued to explain.

"He told me he was looking for me, but it didn't look like it." Solar frowned.

"I don't know what to think of that guy. Maybe he is just socially awkward, you know?"

Moon shrugged and glanced over to Solar. "Let's just be careful around him." Moon vocalized.

Solar nodded, and the conservation changed to a lighter topic. Solar doesn't need more to worry about at the moment.

Moon scanned him every now and again. He had to make sure Solar didn't overheat. Despite that Solar didn't tell him anything about how he felt, he could tell that he kept feeling worse. His faceplate was glowing, it almost looked like his old body and his voicebox kept glitching out.

"So that's when I told Lunar 'Soon.' " Solar chuckled at the memory, he explained to Moon what happened that made Lunar so jumpy around him.

"Take off your clothes." Moon bluntly spoke. Solar's eyes widened again, and his orange faceplate turned red.

"Huh??"

"Solar, you have to take off your shirt and pullover, so your processor doesn't overheat."

"How about you form full sentences and don't blurt out random things?"

Moon then realized his poor choice of words and let out a little 'sorry'.

Solar shook his head as he took off his shirt and pullover.

Solar grimaced at how vulnerable he felt, even though the most glamrock barely wore any clothes. Glamrock Freddy doesn't even wear pants.

Solar saw that Moon was scanning him again and let out a relieved sigh. He supposed his fans weren't going to blow out any time soon when Moon is around.

"So you're just going to do nothing to get back to Lunar?" Moon asked, remembering the last thing Solar told him about.

He shook his head and smiled, there was a twinkle in his eyes.

"Now I didn't say that, someday I will."

"Oh that's cruel. I love it, what do you have in mind?" Moon's curiosity showed as he got closer to him in the hope he'd tell him.

"To bad I won't tell you." Solar rasped out with a mischievous smile.

"Aw c'mon, I will keep my mouth shut." 

Moon frowned when Solar shrugged and stayed silent. Moon frowned.

"Believe me, when I prank him you will hear him." Solar smiled.

"That's boring." Moon pouted and Solar chuckled. "You're just impatient."

Solar doesn't recall that he fell asleep until he opened his eyes, but he doesn't recall being in another room.

When he looked around, Sun sat next to him and then the busk animatronic realized he was wearing his old clothes.

"Did you hear what I said, Eclipse?" The bright animatronic asked with a soft smile.

"What?"

"I think you spaced out there." He snickered. Solar blinked at him and cleared his throat.

"Sorry what did you say?" Sun smiled and leaned back into the orange couch.

Solar realized Sun made their mindscape look like the living room.

"Well, I said Moon and I played this weird game about babysitting a baby that is actually a demon." Sun told him excitedly and Solar smiled softly.

Why is this so familiar?

"So your plan to spend more time with Moon is working?" Sun nodded enthusiastically. "He doesn't seem to mind." 

When was the last time he saw Sun so.. happy?

"He still doesn't know about me, does he?"

Sun smile faded, and he fidgeted with his hands while he looked up to the darker Sun. 

"Erh no not yet. But I promise-, pinky promise I will! I just um don't think it's the right time yet."

Solar nodded and looked to the side.

Was he forgetting something?

Sun jumped up and held his hand out to Solar.

"I know you're worried, but I'm 100% sure everything will be okay." Solar took his hand and got up. He could tell Sun was nervous about telling Moon about him simply by his body language. But who was he to tell him that?

"Okay."

He is forgetting something.

"Come on, I want to play this game with you as well!"

"More like you play and I watch?" Solar spoke amused.

"Like you mind!" Sun blew raspberries to him and he chuckled.

"Very mature of you Sun." Solar said, amused.

Sun skipped to the door but when Solar followed him through the never, ending hallway. Sun was already going out through the door. He started to run, but the room was moving with him.

"Sun wait! Wait for me." He rasped out, the panic rising in his chest. When he finally reached the door, everything went dark.

"Sun?" Solar looked around and couldn't see anybody. 

It looked like he was inside an old laboratory. But why was he in there, and where is Moon? Did his processor give out, which is why Moon moved them to fix it?

Solar noted that he was lying on the cold table in an abandoned lab. Wasn't he just in Sun's room?

While he was looking around he noted that the lab had tubes that seemed to be very dirty and dusty. There was a singular bulb hanging right above him, but despite that, the room was dark.

The roof was leaking, spin webs in every corner and the tools which were laying on the table were way too rusty to use.

The room he was in looked way too familiar than he would have wanted.

What was he forgetting?

He started to feel his panic rise and when he sat up, his head was buzzing and there was a icky feeling in his body, like something was missing.

"Moon?"

The bask animatronic could see something moving in the back of his eye corner. Solar turned around quickly.

He felt something touching his shoulder and he gasped as he stood up from the table.

"Who's there?!" Solar yelled out, regardless of the feeling of dizziness catching up, he was ready to fight whatever was in there.

Trying to make any sense out of this, he silently waited for some response.

"Are you happy now?" A scratchy voice asked. Solar flinched, he knew exactly whose voice it was.

"What?"

"Are you happy with the life you have now? After everything you have done to us, Eclipse?" he asked in a sickening voice.

Moon.. his moon but how? He killed him, he couldn't be alive!

Solar backed to the corner as he saw a shadow walking towards him.

"You sick parasite, first off you took my brother from me, and then you shot me! And now you're just living your best life, huh?!"

"Moon.. I'm not-"

Solar's vision blurred when his Moon pulled him down to look directly at him.

Solar wanted to push him away, but he couldn't move his hands. He wanted to scream, move or anything else! Why couldn't he move?

"I should rip you apart, tear every single wire out and make sure you won't come back." Moon's voice was filled with hatred and rage. His eyes were glowing red and his pupils were turning to pinpoints.

Moon pushed him to the corner as he towered him. Solar could only see his glowing red eyes.

"I'll make sure you suffer until your last breath." Moon spoke low and with rage as he forcefully packed Solar's arm and tore him into the working tube.

"Moon- please I'll help you-"

"Shut up!" Moon interrupted him as he closed the tube.

"I'll make sure that you get what you deserve."

Solar panicked as he watched Moon walking towards the computer.

"Please, Moon, don't do it. Please!" Solar yelled with a hint of desperation.

Moon turned to him while he was pressing the button.

Solar screamed as he woke up. His hands were shaking and everything felt cramped.

Solar clutched his chest while he was hyperventilating.

"Hey, hey Solar, look at me." Moon spoke concerned as he got closer to him. Solar turned his head to him.

"Look at me, everything is okay. You are safe."

Solar's breath got slower as he slowly calmed down. Moon is stunned by how fast the sunset animatronic calmed down.

"I tried to wake you, but you wouldn't budge." Moon explained, concerned while reaching out for him. Solar flinched and Moon pulled his hand away.

"You're doing okay?" Moon asked carefully and kept his space.

Solar told him some things that had happened in his old location.

It was more his Moon that caused all the problems. Sure, that British Monty wasn't good either, but his Moon is another story. He also met that guy, when Moon stayed there to build the satellite with Solar.

"I'm.. not good." Solar sat up straight and wrapped his arms around his legs.

"I figured.. Um, you want to talk about it?" 

Solar shook his head and there was a silence. The whole cheering up wasn't Moon's thing. He didn't know how he could cheer up his friend.

Thinking about it, Earth would ask for a hug or something like that, but that involves touching and Solar doesn't seem to like that a lot.

Lunar cheered Solar up with a little puppet show last time, but there was no way he was going to do that. Solar would never let that go and tease him for the rest of his life.

Perhaps showing memes? But that wasn't really suitable at the moment.

Moon thought about it and then an idea came to his mind. Solar's drawing tablet. Maybe he would like to draw or something? The blue celestial animatronic remembered that Solar left it in the drawer by the security desk.

When he got up and walked towards the little tunnel, Solar grabbed his hand.

"Don't leave!" He yelped out and that startled the blue animatronic.

Moon focused on him and noted how panicked he looked. Moon never saw him that scared, he held his hand.

"Do you mind if I sit right next to you?"

"I don't mind."

Moon sat down next to him and watched the darker Sun animatronic.

"I actually just wanted to get your tablet." Moon spoke softly.

"Sorry. I don't know what's with me. I have been sick before, but I have never acted like that."

Moon shook his head. "You're fine. Remember when I had the virus? I couldn't be alone either and you know, normally, I even prefer being alone."

Solar nodded and when he remembered, he let out a soft laugh. "You held onto me like your life depended on it." Moon frowned and felt his faceplate heaten up.

"Shut it."

"You didn't even let me go when I took you to your bed." Solar softly teased and Moon jabbed his shoulder.

"I honestly never guessed you were a cuddle bug." Solar continued.

"I could say the same about you. When I woke up you were the one holding me."

Solar shrugged and smirked. "Well, at least I was the big spoon of us both."

Moon let out a strangled sound and covered his faceplate.

Solar laughed softly and leaned back.

"You are so easily to tease." Solar said amused, and Moon just rolled his eyes.

"If it wasn't for you being sick I would already have shoved the pillow into your face." 

"Oh, horrifying." Solar sarcastically vocalized.

Moon gave him a wry smile and hesitated to move closer to him. Solar huffed and moved his elbow to his.

"I'm not afraid of you." Solar blurted out and Moon tilted his head.

"I was just so caught up in my dream that I didn't realize it was you." The bask animatronic tried to explain.

"Do you often dream about your Sun and Moon?"

"No, just sometimes, but not all of them are nightmares. Believe it or not, I actually have a few nice memories of that place."

Moon nodded and glanced at him. Then the blue celestial animatronic drew circles in Solar's hand and closed his eyes. 

Solar smiled softly at him and then slowly leaned his head towards Moon's.

"I had many dreams about that damn Gator." Solar admitted, and Moon raised his brow.

"I'm pretty sure that Gator had a way to get in dreams because they kept trying to sell their things."

Moon barked a laugh. "How? That British Gator can't even tie a knot. Remember when.."

"Moon that Gator was smarter than they let on."

The blue crescent animatronic chuckled. "Actually you're right, our Monty is similar when it comes to that."

There was a comforting silence and slowly Solar's hand intertwined with Moon's.

They stayed like this for a while and eventually Solar felt sleepy again.

Moon noticed that Solar was about to fall asleep, so he slowly moved him to lay down. When he tucked Solar in, he was about to just sit down on the floor and wait for him to wake up.

Solar grabbed Moon's hand and looked up at him with a slight panic.

"Are you going to leave?" Moon shook his head.

"No, you are stuck with me, remember? I just didn't know if I should lay with you."

"If you don't mind?" Solar mumbled.

Moon smiled softly at him and laid down next to him.

The blue celestial turned around, his back facing Solar and Moon felt Solar's hand move to his chest. He pulled Moon towards him and held him close.

"Calling me a cuddle bug, huh?" Moon mumbled silently and laid his hands over Solar's.

He was happy to have someone like Solar.

It didn't take Moon long to fall asleep, but then again, he could sleep anywhere if the crescent animatronic wanted to.

Hours went by, it was closing time and the celestial siblings, Lunar, Sun and Earth were carrying cookies and drinks.

Moon texted Sun and the other two that Solar was sick and should come if they had time.

Sun and Moon developed a habit of watching movies if one of them is sick. Since Earth, Lunar and even Monty came along, the habit of stuck to them as well. And they had to make sure that solar is also involved in this.

Lunar was the first to zoom through the tunnel and jumped on Solar's bed.

"Solar wake up!" Lunar yelled, that startled Moon and Solar.

Lunar let out a little gasp when they realized that Moon was also there.

"Jesus Christ Lunar. Do you always have to scream when you wake us?" Moon mumbled while sitting up.

Lunar muffled his laugh while jumping off the bed.

"Hey Sun I found Moon! He was with Solar the whole time." He yelled through the tunnel.

Solar groaned and covered his faceplate in his hands.

"Can you not scream? My head is killing me." Solar mumbled grumpy.

Lunar let out a little sorry, then Sun and Earth was climbing through the tunnel.

"Moon, have you been here for the past couple of hours?" 

The bright animatronic asked while holding chips and popcorn.

"Yep here the last few hours, why?"

"Well, we actually needed your help since we had another problem with code.. blue." Sun explained and Moon groaned as he let himself fall in bed again.

"Not dealing with this now, tomorrow." He mumbled while closing his eyes again. Solar rolled his eyes, trying not to be amused by this situation.

"How are you feeling, Solar? Any better?" Earth questioned him.

And Moon seemed to be interested in the question as well, since he sat up straight and waited for his answer.

Solar thought about it and he actually felt better. His body didn't ache, and his fans were also way quieter than in the morning.

"I'm actually feeling better."

"Did Moon nurse you back to health?" Lunar asked with a teasing tone.

Moon threw a pillow at him and when it hit Lunar he let out a little 'oof'.

"I mean if it wasn't for him, I would probably still be passed out on the security desk." Solar joked, but the other celestial animatronics didn't seem to find that funny.

Solar let out a nervous laugh before a pillow hit right in his face.

"What the heck, Lunar?"

"You deserved it." Lunar simply mumbled.

"Well, I'm glad Moon found you before that happened." Earth spoke while placing the cookies down on Solar's desk.

"Actually, Ruin found him first." Moon explained and Earth tilted her head.

"I see, I mean he did tell me you both went upstairs to get some rest."

"Do you guys know where he is?" Moon asked genuinely.

Earth shook her head. "No I wanted to, but he was kinda just gone when I was looking for him."

Moon hummed.

"You look awful by the way, Solar." Lunar shot right out and Solar sighed. "Thanks, Lunar."

Lunar was about to jump on his bed again but stopped himself.

"Wait, are you contagious?"

Solar grinned at him. "Oh, very." Then he started to pretend to cough into his elbow. Lunar seemed to be unimpressed and they jumped on the bed.

"He is kinda contagious," Moon said to Lunar, and he stopped jumping and gave Moon the death stare.

Solar chuckled, as he watched Lunar stepping away from him.

"Wait, is he actually contagious?" Earth asked genuinely and Moon nodded.

"Yeah, if you touch him while he sneezes or is glitching out, the virus can spread to you," Moon explained and turned his gaze to the amused animatronic.

"Is that how you got it from Moon, Solar?" Sun asked while Lunar was stealing a cookie from Earth.

"Yep, I'm very contagious. You better watch out." Solar said sarcastically.

"So why are you sitting right next to him, brother?" Sun asked while keeping his distance. 

"Well, actually me and Ruin are now immune to it since our bodies have already experienced it and know how to kill the virus the second it gets in our body. Similar to the human immune system.. more or less." Moon interpreted.

"Soo what are we watching today?" Earth tilted her head as she glanced at Solar.

"It's my turn to pick the movie?" He questioned and Moon nodded.

"If you're sick you can choose."

Solar felt his faceplate heat up, it was just picking a damn movie. Why did that make him feel so embarrassed? Perhaps because it made him feel like he was currently the spotlight of this room.

"I don't know. I don't care what we watch." Solar mumbled.

"I mean if you don't know, we could give you some recommendations," Earth added while smiling softly.

Solar shook his head. "I know what we could watch. But, um are we going to watch it here?"

"Well, we wanted to see if you feel well enough to watch it in the theater?" Sun explained.

"Why did you bring the food in here then?" Moon questioned while watching Lunar eat the cookies.

"Every time we leave the food alone in the theater, Vegeta just steals it." Earth told him.

"You mean that creation of Monty?" Moon cringed while asking.

Earth nodded and Solar got up slowly.

"We can go to the theater." Solar rasped out while holding on Moon's shoulder.

"But I'm not going to deal with Vegeta if they come around." Solar clarified.

They brought blankets and cushions to the theater. The snacks and drinks were lying on the table and Solar watched how everyone got comfortable watching the movie.

Solar glanced over to Moon when he was sitting down next to him.

"What? I told you were stuck with me." Moon nudged him playfully and Solar smiled softly at him.

He wouldn't want it any other way.

________________________________

Homies just cuddling

..and they were roommates

[gojoest]

GOJO WHO IS MADLY IN LOVE WITH READER AND GETS HANAHAKI 🥺🥺

He is scared to confess because he doesn’t wanna ruin their friendship also because he doesn’t want to endanger them as the strongest sorcerer :((

This is sad to me because baby boy just deserves to be loved and coddled <333

i was not aware of this trope until you brought it up and now my chest hurts 🤧 for those who don’t know, hanahaki disease in fiction is when one coughs up flower petals bc they suffer from unrequited love — it can be cured 1) when their beloved returns their feelings 2) when the victim dies or 3) the infection can be surgically removed but the romantic feelings disappear too along with it

i think, no matter how much pain this is causing him (and i mean, this is quite literally lethal if the disease progresses) satoru would never opt for surgery 😔 he can’t let go of you or his feelings for you even if you don’t feel the same way about him. maybe he’s thought about it, after shoko suggested it once, but then next time he sees you again all the hesitation vanishes bc he just loves you so much. the little things you do, the tiny acts of affection give him hope that maybe one day you will see him the way he sees you :(

since i can’t deal with angst AHAHAH, i like to picture that one day he wakes up and is slightly confused bc the usual morning coughing doesn’t hit, or it’s not the reason he wakes up (bc that’s what often forces him out of slumber in the mornings or in the middle of the night) … he looks in the mirror, opens his mouth and observes as if he’s checking whether his throat is sore. and it hits him — he isn’t sick anymore which only means one thing…. you’ve got a change of heart. and i can tell you, this is when his menace urges kick in with full force bc no, he’s not going to rush to spin you in a hug — he will try to make you fall for him harder first, before he asks you out. now that he knows you return his feelings, he will do anything to fluster you and draw all kinds of reactions out of you >:(

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞

87 for 🪞:

---

Not long after that, she starts puking. 

“She must have caught Carla’s stomach bug,” he tells Eddie over the phone. “I’m really sorry to have exposed you to it.” 

“Oh, don’t worry,” Eddie says. “I have years of built up parent immunity from Chris. You, on the other hand? Are fucked.” 

“Parent immunity? Is that a thing?” Buck challenges. 

“When I came back from Afghanistan I got sick all the time. Every little bug going around Christopher’s school, I got it. Last few years? Nothing.” 

“Maybe Chris was washing his hands more, man,” Buck reasons. 

Eddie chuckles. “Either way, I’d put money on me being fine and you getting sick.”

Buck sighs. “Any advice?”

“Buckets everywhere,” Eddie counsels. “Do not trust a six year-old to make it to the toilet.” 

It’s going to be a long fucking night. 

v.

The next morning, it takes Buck longer than it should to realize he is also sick. Which is comical, because he was fully expecting it. It’s just that, after a night of not sleeping for more than forty minutes at a time, cleaning vomit off the bathroom floor, and soothing Dove as she went through what seemed particularly hellish, he just thought he was tired. 

Usually, though, exhaustion doesn’t lead to puking. Usually. 

He’d had enough foresight to keep the contents of his stomach relatively mild. So it’s not as painful as it might have been. But it’s still a stomach flu. The kind that leaves your throat burning and your bache aching and your stomach and ribs sore from wretching. The kind that leaves you feverish and delirious. 

He’s been through it all before, of course. Hell, he’s had comparable hangovers, in the worst of his party days. Point is, Buck knows how to be sick. He can handle it. Except, usually, he’s on his own. He’s never been this sick while someone was depending on him. And that’s sort of scary. 

Dove sleeps most of the morning, to make up for what she missed overnight. During which time, Buck is progressively getting worse. He texts Eddie to say he was right, Buck is fucked, and then hopes that Dove stays asleep until he’s over the hill of this, so to speak. 

She does not. 

Dove wakes up with a new life breathed into her. She’s not better. She stills ‘feels icky’ and doesn’t want to eat anything other than dry Cheerios. But she’s got some of her energy back, and she’s functional. But Buck is not. He’s struggling and getting worse. He keeps retching straight bile and he can hardly stay focused to save his life. Everything that touches his skin hurts. He’s sweating and freezing. He wants to lay on the bathroom tiles and moan. 

He cannot. He needs to take care of Dove. 

Dragging a long empty paint bucket around the house with him so he can hurl at a moment’s notice, Buck does his best. He sets her up on on the end of the couch with a box of Cheerios and a water bottle and a bucket of her own in case she needs to puke again. He puts Phineas and Ferb on the TV from the very beginning. The length of a single movie might not be enough and she hasn’t seen this show before. It’ll keep her attention. He makes sure she knows how to use the remote. 

“I’ll be right here with you, okay?” He says. “But if I get sick or fall asleep, and you need to pause, you can. If you need anything you need to tell me, because my head is super fuzzy.”

“Okay, Buck,” she says. “Sorry I made you sick.”

“No, sweetie,” he says. “You didn’t. That’s just how germs work.”

“Germs?” Dove asks.

“That’s what makes people sick,” he explains. “But don’t worry, we’ll both be okay.”

Then, he lays curled on the other end of the couch, bucket in front of him, in the best position he can manage to not feel like he’s on the edge of death. And though he doesn’t mean to, it’s not even two episodes in before Buck falls asleep. 

▪️▪️▪️

He opens his eyes to the sound of a voice that isn’t silly or cartoonish or Dove’s. Deep. Male. Familiar, but out of place. 

“-crackers,’ it’s saying. “And ginger ale. But you’re going to want to let it go flat.”

“Soda isn’t flat, Eddie.”

Eddie.

A warm chuckle. “No, no. That just means, the bubbles go away.”

[blegh-110]

Omg also just imagine flightless bird Tan taking care of Y/n when she gets sick for the first time when living with him-

He’d be so soft taking care of her (and that’d definitely be another scenario where Y/n would be weak and want snuggles from him)

omg yesss!!!

you wake up and feel that small tickle in the back of your throat which get worse throughout the day. this make your progressively more grumpy as the day goes on, but you dont voice a word of this to tangerine. you didnt want to bother him because its just a sore throat, nothing but some water cant fix. but you were very wrong.

you wake up the next day feeling like a corpse. your throat is so much worse, your nose is all clogged up and runny, your body aches, and you just want to turn over and go right back to sleep. but its the clogged up nose that starts making you tear up in frustration. there is no way you are going back to sleep when you can hardly breathe. you sit up with a groan, your limbs cracking and your throat hurting after some bad coughing.

you get up from your bed with your blanket around your shoulders and trailing behind you, slowly making your way towards tangerines office. hes always up and dressed for the day by the time you wake up, usually in his office. but when you take a peak inside, hes not there.

then you walk to the room where he sleeps. not there either.

okay, maybe hes in the kitchen or in the living room, you think trying not to panic. but then you stop in your tracks, suddenly remembering that tangerine told you last night that he would be leaving early in the morning for work and would be back around five.

at the time when he told you this, you were happy to be away from him for basically the entire day. but now... theres nothing you want more than for his strong arms to be around you and his sweet whispers. also some medicine.

a sob escapes your mouth when you realize how alone you are. an achy feeling forms in your chest, but not from your sickness, from the fact that tangerine is somewhere very far you assume, and not here to take away your pain.

you dont even go downstairs to try and look for some cold medicine, the thought of the action exhausts you. so you make your way back to where tangerine sleeps and lay in his bed, you go in there because it was the closest room with a bed you think. and not because the smell of him is comforting as you bury yourself into the sheets he sleeps in.

it takes some time, but you fall asleep, wishing that wherever tangerine is and whatever he is doing, that he'll be done soon and come back to you.

~

tangerine sighs heavily as he walks into his home and stares at his watch. six o'clock. a little later than he said he would be back, but hes just happy to be home with you.

after checking all of the rooms downstairs with no sign of you, he begins going upstairs.

"love!" he calls out, beginning to worry that youve managed to escape when he doesnt here you.

tangerine checks your room first, only to find nothing and the panic is rising up. he starts to check every room, aggressively shoving the doors open and checking bathroom and closets and any spot where you may be hiding. just when he comes out of one room, he sees you from his door with a sleepy, confused expression and messy hair.

you look so fucking adorable he thinks as he lets out a sigh of relief and makes his way towards you. but as he gets closer, he sees your glossy, red eyes and lips quivering.

"tangerine." you whisper, your sore throat not letting your voice go any higher, and fall into his arms when they wrap around you. he hears your sniffling and small hiccups, hes heard you cry before, but this sounds completely different.

"whats wrong? look at me." he gently lifts your chin up to get a better look of your face, and he realizes that youre sick just from that tired look in your eyes.

"dont feel good, feel gross and-and-" you dont finish, it hurts to talk.

"oh, love. when did you start feeling this way, huh?" tangerine gently says into your hair as he starts walking you back into his room. thats when he sees his bed which obviously looks like someone has slept in. although he hates to hear your stuffy nose and crying, he cant push away the feeling of happiness of you sleeping in his bed. but then hes suddenly feeling very sad again at the thought of you being miserable all day, alone.

"this morning, woke up feeling yucky" you say, then shrink down when you see tangerines eyes widen and his body stiffen.

"why didnt you tell me? you couldve called me and i wouldve been here as soon as possible."

"i'm sorry," you cry into your hands, feeling like a small child being scolded, "didnt know i could."

tangerine sighs and shakes his head, feeling very emotional about you being sick all day and not being there for you.

"no, dont apologize. im the one thats sorry." then hes taking you in his arms and sitting on the bed with you in his lap,

"i didnt mean to get mad, just sad that i wasnt here for you when i shouldve been. and i shouldve told you that you can call me anytime when im working, i never told you that did i?" you shake your head against his chest with a sniffle and silent tears still running down your face.

"oh, im sorry, (y/n)." he says again, kissing the top of your head and holding you against him just a little but tighter. you calm down after a few minutes, but the silence is ruined when you sneeze, and tangerine is reminded that you are sick. too caught up with you on his lap laying against him.

"lets get you some medicine and food."

after having to coax you to drink some of the "yucky tasting" medicine, tangerine heats up some chicken noodle soup and feeds it to you.

"ate it all, good job, darling." making you smile gently.

you take a hot shower after, making you feel even more better when the steam unclogs your nose and relaxes your aching muscles.

after putting on some pajamas, you walk to tangerines room where he sees you shyly standing at his door.

"can i, um, sleep with you tonight, please?" you ask softly while tugging at your long sleeve.

"c'mere" is all tangerine says and lifts up the blanket for you. you make your way over to him and jump into his bed right into his arms where you quickly fall asleep when his fingers gently scratch your back.

[julia-writes-things]

Grian is overdramatic and sick

drabble request by @bluetbluish

on ao3 if that's more your style

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Grian usually never got sick. Key word usually. His so-called ‘higher status’ prevented him from having to deal with the feeble symptoms of the weather or bacteria. Why would an Eldritch God need to get sick when they could just snap their fingers and wish it away? When Grian felt the first tickle in his throat he did just that, or tried to. He slept comfortably in his bed, knowing his sickness was going away when the sun rose from the sky. It was only when he woke up that he realized his punishment extended from just living among the players. He also had to live like them. Experience something he only enjoyed from a third person perspective in first person. Great. Amazing. Super super fun. 

He tried getting out of bed, but his arms felt like lead. Why couldn’t he move? He took a deep breath, but he couldn't breathe from his nose. When he tried, a horrible noise graced his ears. His nose was clogged with… something. His only option was breathing out of his mouth. He found the experience to be quite horrid after about five seconds. 

He needed to tell people about this. Make sure someone knew his suffering, his pain, his- 

{Grian}: scarrrrrrrrr, I need help with a build.

{GoodTimeWithScar}: omw

Grian thought Scar took his sweet time getting there. His head felt like it was being squeezed by a giant rubber band, yet somehow remained in a hazy fog all the while. Why couldn’t his body just pick one symptom, instead of all of them? It would be so much better if it was only one symptom, but no. That would be easy. Instead, he felt like he was dying. He was dying, for all he knew. He’d never experienced this before.

“Grian? Grian?” he heard the melodious voice of Scar, drawing out the ‘e’ syllable on his second call. “Where oh where could he be? G oh G-man.”

Grian tried to let him know he was, in fact, stuck in bed. All that came out was a weak croak. He cringed at himself. This was all he was able to do? Would he be doomed to this horrid fate forever? 

“Was that a frog I heard? He knows I need them for my zoo train, yet he’s hoarding all of them. The injustice!” 

Grian rolled over in his bed. Let Scar find him in this miserable state, then he’d be sorry. 

“Seriously, where could this man be?” Scar mumbled after a while. His voice was getting closer and closer to where he was. Lying down, dead to the world. Or he wished he was dead. 

“There you ar- oh my god,” he immediately rushed to the side of his bed. “What happened to you? You’re so… pale.” “You don’t think I know that, Scar? I feel like someone just took all of my well being and threw it into the void.” “So you’re sick.” “That’s what you call it?”

“Sickness, illness, maladie if you fancy some french-” “I don’t.” 

Grian didn’t have time for humour right now. He needed to get better, and fast. 

“How fix?” he croaked.

“Well uh- what’re you feeling? What’re your symptoms?”

“Dry throat, stuffy nose, sore limbs, my eyes hurt… I could go on.”

“Wow… okay then. Well, have no fear! I’ll go and make my Scar Safe Illness Fighter. I’m trying to get it patented, but the guy at the permit office is a real jerk. Keeps putting me on hold.”

Before Grian could even say anything, he was gone again. He sighed in frustration, all he wanted was Scar’s company.

It took Scar half an hour to make his reappearance. He was lugging a cart of goods behind him. Quickly assembling a table, he then went on to place chicken soup, pastina, tea, milk, honey, noodles, and a small tin of crackers on it. 

“Oh my…” Grian sat up. “This is your illness cure?” “It’s a work in progress. I just took all the things that make me feel better when I’m sick and made them.” 

“That’s a lot.” “Anything for a friend, right?” Grian nodded his agreement, pouring himself some tea. 

“So, you like never get sick. How’d you manage it this time?”

i'm actually terribly ill rn so if it sucks that's why.

[brningcigs]

summary: after a hunt gone wrong, dean is in need of comfort.

warnings: angst, fluff, sad dean, alcohol use.

note: hope you enjoy, i wrote this more so for myself for a little bit of comfort :]

andy sat in the back of the impala with dean driving and sam asleep in the passenger seat, her tired eyes watching as the trees and other cars whip past her window.

her frame leaned back into the leather, her body still tense from the hunt they had just finished and the effects of such began to catch up with herself, feeling her muscles progressively grow achy and sore.

the hunt was a bit of a blow - the three hunters got hurt and it all together didn’t go as planned.

thankfully, no one was -too- hurt.

andy’s thoughts focused on deans music, her hand occasionally trailing up to the nape of her neck to try and soothe the crook that was taunting her.

whenever dean put on his usual ac/dc, led zeppelin, deep purple, metallica etc, she couldn’t help her body subtly reacting to the tunes, her fingers tapping against her thigh, her head just barely moving back and forth in synch with the rhythm.

andy’s grey orbs flashed over to dean, knowing he was probably beating himself up about the hunt going south, which she’d noticed him do over the past few years she’d been hunting with them.

she let her eyes linger on the back of his head for a little while longer before a silent sigh fell from andy’s lips as she laid her head against the window and returned her gaze onto the trees, before her eyes eventually fell shut for the rest of the trip back.

after another hour or so, they made it back and sun set was about to bloom.

andy got out of the impala and shut her door, walking around the car and making her way inside the bunker, glancing over at dean silently for a moment before hand.

andy made a b line to the kitchen, grabbing herself a beer and then making her way into the common room, sitting down at the table with a tired sigh.

her hands worked at opening the beer to take a few gulps from the beer, the slight burning sensation she felt as it smoothed down her throat easing her just a little, but enough to make her relax.

andy stared at the wooden table quietly, her black chipped finger nail drawing lazy circles on the smooth surface before her eyes flashed over to the condensation slowly dripping from the beer bottle, a few drops racing to the bottom of the glass bottle to pool beneath it.

after a while, she turned her head, the silence that remained concerning her a little bit.

if dean hadn’t come inside soon, she’d go out and check on him.

they’d never really been intimately close, never once embracing each other in anything further than a hug.

but sometimes andy could sense he needed more than that.

she never pursued such though, since dean was the more ‘i don’t need anyone’ type.

she figured he’d get offended or something, so she always kept her distance when he got in his moods.

hearing dean walk into the bunker, she turned her gaze back down at her beer bottle, going back to watching the droplets of liquid pool under the bottle and onto the wooden table.

after she heard his footsteps move past from behind her, her eyes trailed over to look at him, watching as he opened a bottle of whiskey and took a few swigs straight from the bottle.

silently, she watched him, trying to figure out what was going on inside his head but she never could.

she turned her head back down to the beer bottle, lifting it to her lips and taking a few more sips before setting it back down where it once was.

“you know it’s not your fault, right?”

her voice broke the silence, ringing through the room and echoing off the walls of the bunker.

one last time, her grey orbs fixed over to see he was now looking at her, gazing into his green eyes, as her eye brows raise a little.

“you shouldn’t beat yourself up the way you do.. it’s not healthy.”

she mumbled, a small shake of her head following her softened voice.

dean just kind of stared at her. silence. it’d been 1… 5… 15… 20 seconds. just quietly looking at each other.

the silence between them was comfortable. not in the slightest bit awkward or uncomfortable. it’s always been that way between the two - never once did they feel the need to ramble on about random stuff in order to make the air between them less awkward.

andy’s eyes moved away from him after a while when he still hadn’t said anything. maybe she had offended him.

andy sighed and took another sip of her beer before standing up and walking off to her room, grabbing some clothes and tiredly striding into the bathroom.

after stripping down her clothes and stepping under the warm water, she almost let out a relieved sigh. she could practically feel her muscles screaming ‘thank you’, her sore body relaxing as she focused on the feeling of the water streaming down her aching figure.

after her shower, she got dressed and stepped out of the bathroom, walking down the hallway and stopping in front of deans bedroom. she wanted to knock and ask if he was okay, but she was able to answer that herself.

surely he was still beating himself up, always so hard on himself thinking there was always things he could’ve done differently.

reluctantly, though, she left a few knocks on the door, patiently waiting for him to open the door, or give the okay for her to come in. something. but not to her surprise, nothing. 1… 5… 10 seconds pass. and still - nothing.

andy gently opened the door, peaking inside to see dean sitting at the edge of his bed, hunched over with his hands tangled in his hair. andy hesitated for a moment before she invited herself in and sat down beside him.

she sat there. quiet. still quiet. 3… 4… 5 minutes pass and still. silence. that was okay. andy didn’t expect him to speak to her if he didn’t want too. it was like dean not to talk about his feelings, and she’d respect that boundary, even if she knew he -should- talk about it.

a while longer passes, and andy finally speaks up in a quiet voice.

“dean.”

it took a second, but deans head moved to look at her. just barely, she could see how glossy his eyes were, and the exhaustion etched in his face. he had been crying. seeing this took andy back a little - it was worse than she thought. and it broke her heart to see dean this upset - this vulnerable in front of her. something she hadn’t seen before.

without another word, andy moved closer, turning her body so she was facing him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. unexpectedly, dean moved closer into her embrace, his arms firmly wrapping around her torso and his face disappearing into the crook of her neck.

they stayed like this for a while, andy’s fingers trailing up and down his shoulder blade while her other hand smoothed through his hair, gently scratching every now and then as she whispered soft nothings into his ear. in that moment, a silent understanding grew between the two of them. she was right. he -did- need this. he needed it all along. and from now on, they’d seek each other out when they needed this most. just the two of them, sitting comfortably in each others arms. in silence.

from now on, andy wouldn’t hesitate to hold him and tell him that it was okay to be vulnerable around her, and that everything would be okay.

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

Twenty

Note: To cheer up my friend ❤️❤️ @thelazywitchphotographer, sorry if it seems rushed!

Hero stares forlornly at the seemingly never-ending pile of work on their desk. They'd just come back from a particularly rough mission, and every muscle ached with the pull of a horribly tight knot. They almost sway on their feet to get to the desk, half-falling unceremoniously into their chair.

They don't get the chance to rest though. Even the shower they have is quick and freezing cold, not even able to afford to wait for the water to heat up. They are tormented by the never-ending progression of time, the annoying ticking on the clock hanging on their wall serving as another reminder of it.

They let out a soft sigh and begin on one of the reports, silently accepting their fate.

Halfway through, the crime-fighter's attention is diverted from their work by the sound of someone loudly clearing their throat.

Curse Villain and their stupid invisibility powers. How they got in here is beyond Hero. All they know is that they're too damn exhausted to deal with the evil-doer's crap.

"Hey, Hero! I missed you! It's been so long," their nemesis chirps, practically bouncing on their feet, with a wide grin plastered to their face.

"You just kicked my butt like two hours ago, so whatever this is, drop it. I got work to do."

The irritation in the hero's tone doesn't go unnoticed by their enemy. This snappy, jaded person in front of them is nothing like Hero's usually cheerful self.

But it doesn't take a genius to put two-and-two together, judging by the stacks of paper, practically hiding most of the crime-stopper's face, the dark circles under their eyes and the tight line of their shoulders.

"That's enough," Villain says sternly, snatching the pen away from Hero's grasp.

"Hey! Give it back."

"Have you seen yourself, Hero? You look two seconds away from getting knocked unconscious."

"But I-"

"Come on, Hero. Would you rather keep staying here finishing heaps of boring paperwork, or come over and relax with me?"

When they said it like that, it was impossible not to cave in. Besides, they still had two days left to finish this. They'd never really listened to their self-indulgent side before, so it wouldn't hurt to satisfy their temptations just this once, right?

Villain drags them over to the living room, playing their favourite comfort movie in the background. (How they knew their way so well around their house, they did not know.)

They pull them into their lap, their nails quickly finding their way along Hero's scalp, scratching it softly, fingers carding through their nemesis's hair.

Oh, but they're not done spoiling them just yet. The stiffness of Hero's movements isn't lost on the villain, and they start kneading out the tension in the hero's throbbing back and shoulders.

When their nemesis lets out a content sigh in spite of themselves, and they lean greedily into the touch, it dawns on them.

"You're touch-starved, aren't you?" they whisper softly, still massaging the sore muscles.

"Probably," their adversary mumbles lazily into their lap.

Villain gently shifts the half-asleep hero, so that they're in their arms now, lightly stroking their soft, fluffy locks. It doesn't take long for Hero to doze off, although they somehow wrap their arms around Villain's torso while asleep.

Next thing they knew, Villain and Hero were asleep in each other's arms.

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-whump @enbious-prince @dodo-docs @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @justalittlecorrupted @addictedsandwhichaki @quaggasus @vernilliom @sirrsnakesssss

Wanna be on the taglist? This will take you there!

[feverishfics]

Seungmin's Rough Day

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Seungmin

Caretakers: Stray Kids (mainly Jeongin)

Word Count: 3.3k

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Hello! This is my first fic and I hope everyone enjoys it! I actually wrote this for Feveruary but I wanted to go ahead and post something so here it is.

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It was a normal day at work for Stray Kids, each unit starting early in the morning and working on their respective priorities. Well, at least it was normal for 3racha and Danceracha. The same could not be said for Vocalracha, who had been in the studio for three hours and seemed to be making little to no progress. Jeongin, who had worked with the vocal coach first, was sitting on the couch waiting for Seungmin to finish so they could practice some harmonies for their new album. Although Seungmin seemed fine on the outside, it was clear to Jeongin that something was wrong. His voice did not have its usual strength and pitch and it was obvious that Seungmin and the vocal coach were both becoming frustrated.

The vocal coach sighed and put down his lyric sheets. “Seungmin, what’s going on with you today? You never struggle this much. You need to get your head in the game so you and Jeongin can do your practice together and then you can go to 3racha’s studio and record this part.” Seungmin looked down at the ground and rolled his shoulders, seemingly trying to loosen his body so he could better sing. “Sorry hyung, I’m not sure what’s going on today. I think I’m just really tired and it’s affecting my voice.” Jeongin raised his eyebrows at that. Having been friends with Seungmin for many years, he had seen the other vocalist tired countless times, but he had never known it to negatively impact his voice. “I know you’re tired, but we really need to get through this so your recording schedule doesn’t get behind. I have a session with Xdinary Heroes in about 20 minutes and I can’t be late. Their promotions are set to start next week.” Standing up from the couch, Jeongin put his hand on the vocal coach’s shoulder. “Don’t worry hyung, you should go ahead and go to your session with them. Seungmin and I can get through this last part together and if we really need to we can ask Chan hyung for help too.” The vocal coach looked skeptically from Jeongin to Seungmin but seemingly made up his mind quickly. “All right, if you’re sure. Don’t forget to go through all of the parts before your recording and to do your warmups again so you don’t hurt your vocal chords. I’ll see both of you tomorrow for our afternoon session.”

Jeongin and Seungmin both waved goodbye to the man as he quickly packed up his things and left. After the door had shut and it was just the two of them in the room, Jeongin turned to Seungmin. “Is everything okay hyung? I’ve never known you to be so tired that it affected your singing.” Seungmin shrugged, turning his face away from Jeongin and mumbling something. “What was that?” Seungmin turned his face back toward Jeongin and said “Everything is fine, I guess. My throat’s just a little sore and I’m really tired.” After saying this, Seungmin sat down on the stool behind him, putting his feet on the bar and resting his head on his hands after putting his elbows on his knees. Jeongin frowned and walked closer to Seungmin, gently rubbing his back. “Did you not sleep well last night? Do you think you need to drink more water?” “I slept fine last night, but I woke up early this morning because my throat was hurting and I couldn’t go back to sleep. I’ve had a lot of water to drink but swallowing hurts, so I don’t want to drink anymore.” Jeongin frowned at this admission, noticing the slightly raspy tone that his hyung’s voice was starting to take on. Jeongin kept one hand on Seungmin’s back while the other hand went up to feel his forehead. Seungmin, whose eyes had been closed, startled at the sudden touch but he did not pull away. “Well, you don’t feel warm so maybe you just need to rest. I’ll call Chan hyung and ask if we can record tomorrow and I can take you back home.” Seungmin nodded at that and got up to gather his things. Jeongin was surprised at how quickly his hyung had complied, but he just figured that Seungmin really needed a nap. He called Chan who quickly agreed to let them record the next day. “Let me know if his throat gets any worse, Innie. He might be getting a cold or something so we need to make sure he gets some medicine if he needs it.” “Don’t worry hyung, I will. We’re gonna head back to the dorm, see you later?” “Yeah, I’ll come by when we get finished.”

Hanging up the phone, Jeongin turned to Seungmin who had already gathered all of his things and was sitting on the couch with his eyes closed. “Come on hyung, Chan hyung said we can go back to the dorm so you can get some rest. He said it would be fine for us to record tomorrow instead of today.” Nodding, Seungmin stood up from the couch and headed for the door. Jeongin quickly got his stuff together and followed his hyung out the door. Once they got downstairs, they found one of their managers who gladly gave them a ride back to the dorm. Once they got inside the door, Seungmin and Jeongin took off their shoes and set their stuff down before walking toward the bedrooms. Stopping outside of his bedroom door, Seungmin turned to look at his dongsaeng. “I think I’m gonna go ahead and take a nap, I’m too tired to really do anything.” Nodding in agreement, Jeongin said “Yeah, you definitely should take a nap. I think I’ll go sit in the living room and work on memorising lyrics. When you wake up, maybe you can join me and we can watch a movie or play some video games.” Seungmin agreed and retreated into his bedroom while Jeongin continued down the hall to his own room. After getting his things settled, the maknae headed toward the living room to get to work.

In Seungmin’s room, the vocalist immediately laid down after changing into some more comfortable clothes. Covering himself up with his blanket, the second youngest member thought to himself, ‘Why am I so tired? And why does my throat hurt so much? I hope I’m not getting sick. I’m sure I’ll feel better after a long nap.’ Turning over to face the wall, it was not long until Seungmin fell into a deep sleep, convinced that he would feel better when he woke up. About an hour and a half later, Seungmin did in fact wake up, but the results of his nap were not what he had hoped. Instead of feeling better, the vocalist’s throat hurt so much more than it had before. Besides the pain in his throat, he had also started to feel cold and shaky, making him think that he must have developed a fever during his nap as well. Not wanting to lay in his bed miserable and alone, Seungmin decided to venture out to the living room to find someone. Standing up slowly to avoid getting a head rush, the boy wrapped himself in a blanket and shuffled toward his bedroom door.

Walking into the living room, Seungmin saw his dongsaeng sitting on the couch with lyric sheets spread around him. Upon hearing his hyung enter the room, Jeongin started speaking to him. “Hey hyung, how was your nap? Are you feeling better now? You were asleep for a—” the maknae paused when he looked at his hyung, seeing the glazed look in his eyes and the flush on his cheeks. “Oh no, hyungie you look so sick.” Jeongin patted the spot on the couch next to him. The sick boy shuffled over the couch and plopped down, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. The younger boy reached his hand out toward his hyung, feeling his forehead and cheeks. Seungmin didn’t flinch this time, but instead sighed contently and leaned into the cool touch. “Aish, hyung, how did you get such a high fever in only two hours?” He shrugged, frowning whenever Jeongin took his hand away. “How is your throat? Does it feel any better?” Seungmin opened his mouth to answer, but all that came out was a painful sounding croak. Determined to try again, the vocalist cleared his throat, which apparently was the wrong decision as it felt like he was swallowing shards of glass. The pain caused tears to spring to ‘00 liner’s eyes, and he reached his hand up to grab his throat. Jeongin frowned at his hyung, very concerned over how quickly he had lost his voice and the pain he seemed to be in. “Oh no, did you lose your voice?” Seungmin nodded, looking sadly at his dongsaeng. Rubbing his hyung’s head, the maknae asked, “Do you want to try some tea? I can go make you some and get the thermometer too.” Not wanting his friend to leave but liking the idea of some tea, Seungmin reluctantly agreed. Jeongin got off the couch and headed down the hall to find the thermometer.

While walking toward the bathroom, Jeongin pulled out his phone to call Chan. “Hey Jeonginnie! What’s up? How’s Seungmin?” The maknae sighed as he looked through the medicine cabinet for the thermometer. “Not good hyung. He just woke up from a nap and he has a bad fever. I’m looking for the thermometer now so I can see how high it is. He also completely lost his voice and his throat hurts really badly.” “Aish, that’s no good. I wish I could leave work to check on him, but we’re right in the middle of something here and we probably won’t be home for a while. But I think Minho, Hyunjinnie, and Felix should be finished soon and head that way. Depending on how high his fever is, do you think he should go to the doctor?” Finally finding the thermometer, Jeongin began to make his way back to the living room. “Regardless of how high his temperature is, I definitely think he needs to go to the doctor. I don’t think this is a cold because he isn’t congested or anything. Remember when Changbin hyung got strep throat last year? I think this is the same.” “In that case, he definitely needs to go to the doctor. I’ll text Minho and see if he can give him a ride to a clinic when he gets there. I have to get back to work, but tell Seungmin I hope he feels better. Bye Innie.” “Bye hyung.” Jeongin pocketed his phone and continued down the hallway.

When the maknae arrived in the living room, he saw his hyung sitting there seemingly asleep. “Hyung?” Jeongin questioned as he approached. Seungmin apparently was not asleep as he cracked one eye open upon hearing his dongsaeng. “Okay hyung, I’m glad you’re awake. I need you to stick this in your mouth while I go turn on the kettle.” Seungmin complied, taking the thermometer and putting it under his tongue as Jeongin walked toward the kitchen. Seungmin sat there waiting for his temperature to be read while wishing he could just go back to sleep. Just as the thermometer beeped, the younger vocalist came back from the kitchen and took it out of his hyung’s mouth. “39.1 degrees (102.3). That’s not good, but it could be worse.” Seungmin hummed hoarsely in agreement. “I’m gonna go finish making your tea and then you can go back to sleep after you drink some okay? I’ll wake you up when Minho hyung gets here and he’s going to take you to the doctor.” Seungmin just nodded and closed his eyes as Jeongin headed to finish the tea.

After Seungmin drank part of his tea, Jeongin turned on an old drama and let the older boy rest his head on his lap as he fell asleep. Feeling his phone vibrate, the maknae reached into his pocket and pulled it out. He saw a text from Felix saying that they were just leaving the studio and should be there in about 15 minutes. Jeongin quickly responded and set his phone next to him, watching the drama to pass the time before the others would arrive. Upon arrival, the Danceracha members walked into the living room and melted at the sight of Seungmin asleep on the youngest’s lap. Knowing how much Seungmin despised being vulnerable, Felix decided to take a photo for blackmail purposes before deciding to actually check on his donsaeng’s well-being. “How is he doing?” Felix walked over and put his hand on the sick boy’s forehead. Seungmin blinked awake at the touch while Jeongin responded. “Not good, his temperature was 39.1 when I checked it about 30 minutes ago.” Minho frowned and walked over to the couch. “Aigo, that’s no good. Seungmin-ah, are you ready to go to the doctor? You won’t even have to change clothes.” Seungmin nodded, wanting more than anything to go to the doctor so that he could feel better and not feel like he was constantly swallowing glass. “Okay Minnie, let’s get up and go to the car okay?” Minho helped his dongsaeng get off the couch and began to help him put on his shoes. Seungmin glanced back to the couch where Jeongin was still sitting then turned back to look at his hyung. “Hyung, can Innie come with us?” The vocalist was barely able to get the words out, tears coming to his eyes again at the pain that it caused. “That depends on what Innie wants to do. Jeongin-ah, do you want to come too?” The maknae quickly agreed, hopping up off the couch and putting on his shoes. “Felix and I will stay here and get things ready for when you get back from the doctor,” Hyunjin offered, already moving to get the half empty tea mug off of the coffee table. Minho nodded, already moving Seungmin toward the door. “Okay, sounds good. We’ll let you know when we leave the doctor’s office. Text me if any of 3racha comes by okay?” And with that, Minho headed out the door and towards the car with his two youngest members.

While the others were at the doctor’s office, Felix and Hyunjin worked on getting everything ready for Seungmin. Realising they needed a few more things, the two dancers went to a convenience store just down the street, stocking up on throat lozenges as well as some honey tea to help with the vocalist’s throat. After returning to the dorm, Hyunjin set the medicine and the thermometer on Seungmin’s bedside table along with some water. Felix went to the kitchen and got started making a simple broth soup, something that he thought would be easy for the slightly younger member to swallow with his throat in the terrible state that it was. While Felix was cooking, Hyunjin gathered the comforter from his dongsaeng’s bed along with an extra blanket and put them in the dryer to warm them up. With the soup simmering on the stove and everything set up, Felix and Hyunjin decided to sit on the couch and play Mario Kart until the other members returned. After playing for a few minutes, Felix got a text from Han saying that 3racha was leaving the studio and was heading to the cuties dorm to check on Seungmin before they would go back to their own dorm for the night. Felix quickly responded before texting Minho and telling him what Han had said. Minho quickly responded, saying that they were finishing up at the doctor’s office and then they were going to pick up Seungmin’s prescription for, as most of them suspected, strep throat. “Oh, that’s no fun. Minnie does in fact have strep throat,” Felix said, turning to look at Hyunjin. The older boy grimaced, putting down the controller and getting up from the couch. “Oof, that’s gotta feel terrible. If they’re on the way back I’m gonna go ahead and make some tea.” Felix nodded, turning back to the game.

After a little while, the 3racha members walked through the door, heading to the living room. Changbin glanced around before looking at Felix. “Are they not back yet?” “No, but they should be back in just a few minutes. Jeongin went with them and Hyunjin is in the kitchen making some tea for Minnie.” The 3racha members nodded, sitting down to wait. Jisung picked up the other controller, playing the game with Felix until they heard the door open again. Jeongin walked in holding a bag of medicine while Minho helped Seungmin take off his shoes and remove his coat. The maknae held up the bag as he entered the living room. “We got the drugs.” The other members laughed at this while Chan got up to get the bag and sort the medicine. Seungmin trudged into the living room and sat down on the couch next to Han. The rapper began rubbing his dongsaeng’s back as Hyunjin came in with a mug of tea. Chan gave the vocalist his first dose of medicine so that he could feel better as soon as possible. Minho walked in and addressed the members. “Well, he has strep throat. The doctor said that after taking the medicine for 24 hours he won’t be contagious anymore and that he should be feeling better in about three days as long as he takes the medicine and rests.” The other members nodded, glad that it wouldn’t take that long for Seungmin to feel better. Felix looked at Seungmin and said, “Seungmin-ah, I made some soup. Do you want to eat some now or wait until later?” Deciding against talking, the vocalist got out his phone and typed out ‘I don’t want to hurt my throat anymore than it already is right now, but I’ll definitely have some later. Thanks, Yongbok.’ “You’re welcome.”

Chan saw how tired Seungmin looked and decided it would probably be good for him to get to bed. “Okay, all of us that don’t live here should probably get back to our own dorm so that Seungmin can get some sleep. We should also probably eat some dinner and start winding down for the night.” Han, Changbin, and Hyunjin all got up, waving at Seungmin and telling him to feel better. As they were heading toward the door, Hyunjin suddenly turned around saying, “I almost forgot! Jeongin-ah, I put Minnie’s blankets in the dryer so that they would be warm. Could you get them out for him?” “Of course hyung. I’ll go get them now.” “Thanks, Hyunjinnie,” Seungmin managed to croak out. Hyunjin grimaced in sympathy at the sound of the vocalist’s voice. “You’re welcome, but for your own sake and the sake of everyone around you, please don’t talk anymore until your throat gets a little better.” Minho nodded in agreement, saying, “He’s right Seungmin-ah. The best way to avoid talking would probably be to go to sleep. Do you want to go ahead and get in your bed now?” Seungmin nodded, standing up and starting to shuffle his way down the hallway to his room. Upon entering his bedroom, the sick boy plopped down on his bed and snuggled under the sheet. Jeongin then entered with the nice warm blankets from the dryer and covered up his hyung before tucking him in. “Sleep well, hyung. Maybe when you wake up you’ll feel better.” Seungmin hummed his thanks and closed his eyes, ready to pass out for a long time. The maknae quickly left the room, turning off the light on his way out. After the door was shut, Seungmin smiled despite the pain, thankful that he had such loving members who cared for him so much.

____________________

I struggle to end stories so sorry about the rough ending lol. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

[sleptwithinthesun]

quick disclaimer before i get into the fic, if you'll bear with me. i have tourette's syndrome, and was diagnosed about a year and a half ago. i've had TS since before i was fifteen, and now have over six years of experience with it. it is a normal and daily aspect of my life. this fic and possible subsequent ones, depending on the reception it gets, are not meant to be representative of every person's experience with TS. it is based on mine because that is what i can attest to. if you have any questions at all, i'm very open to talking about it, and you can absolutely send an ask :)

now that that's over...

3.3K of r/obert c/hase with tourette's syndrome from h/ouse m/d (yes, people with TS can be surgeons). set in season one before vogler arrives because chase is also less of a dick then. no snz yet, just because i want to introduce the condition first. i really hope that you enjoy because i'm super excited to post this :D

It hurts not to tic.

Chase hates to admit it, but it really does. He's tried explaining the premonitory urge to people in the past, likening the feeling to a building sense of pressure, and usually sudden enough for him that it's almost like a shock. Not awful, but enough to make you flinch at the sensation. If he doesn't tic, the feeling just builds and builds until it hurts, and he has no option but to let them out.

On some days, though, it's not quite that mild.

Today, for instance, he feels like someone's put a live wire underneath his skin, like electricity is beginning to spark through his body, like he's out of his damn mind because for some reason, the feeling of wrongness in his neck and shoulders won't go away until his neck jerks to the side and his shoulders tense upwards and lock in place, hard enough that he's shaking, for a good ten seconds. His breath forces itself out in choppy exhales through his nose, getting progressively shallower as more time passes without an inhale. Chase is more than aware, even with his eyes squeezed shut, that House is side-eyeing him while scrawling out the list of their patient's symptoms, and that Cameron, seated behind him, is going to pull him aside for a few moments once they're done here. He's done this song and dance so many times, and it's exhausting.

House finally puts the marker down just as Chase's shoulders drop and he does his best to inhale quietly, his head jerking over to the right a few times as House gives him a look that Chase knows means keep it together. Then, he limps a step back to stare at the list of symptoms along with the rest of them. Fever, swollen lymph nodes, migraines, sore throat, seizure.

"It's way too general," Foreman says, breaking the silence.

"How do you explain the seizure?" Cameron challenges.

Chase juts his chin forward twice in another tic. Foreman shrugs. "Her fever got too high. Febrile seizure."

"It's something else," House says, without detracting his gaze from the board in front of them. He's tapping the marker against his arm. "Try again."

Cameron sighs. "I mean, it could just be a case of encephalitis. Explains the flu-like symptoms and the seizure."

House shakes his head again, finally turning to look back at them. "She'd be more disoriented, first off, and her friends haven't reported any personality changes." His gaze slides to Chase, and he frowns. "You've been awfully quiet. Any ideas?"

"She's immunocompromised," Chase states, and his head jerks again when House nods exaggeratedly, obviously unimpressed. He blinks, hard. “And, uh, she's what? Twenty? Twenty-one?"

"Twenty-three," Cameron provides.

He gives her a short nod of gratitude. "It could be mononucleosis. Foreman's probably right about the seizure, given her condition, but that only takes one symptom off the list. The rest points to anything similar to the flu, and, well, there's a hundred diseases that could be. Do we know if she's dating?"

"Boyfriend. He's out of town, though; her friend who brought her in said so," says Foreman.

Chase nods again. "We can put her through a CT scan, see if either her liver or spleen are swollen."

"It's a start," House murmurs, then nods, standing. "Alright. I'll put in the order; you three start treating her. I've got clinic duty." With that, he swings his cane around in front of him and limps off through the hospital hallways.

The second he's finally out of earshot, Chase lets out a loud hum, two-tone, high to low. The tic repeats a few times, all the worse for trying to suppress it, before it calms down and his shoulders tense for only a brief moment. When he looks back up at Cameron and Foreman, they're both wearing identical looks of veiled concern.

"I'm fine," he reassures, and it's immediately offset by yet another jerk of his head and a firm set of blinks. "Really. I'm okay."

"Are you sure about that?" Foreman asks, raising an eyebrow with heavy skepticism. "This is the most I've seen you tic in the four weeks I've been here."

Chase rolls his eyes, jutting his chin forward. "Yeah, and?" 

"Is this going to affect your ability to do your job?"

"Foreman, hey—" Cameron starts to warn. 

Chase's head whips in his direction, half a tic and half out of anger. "Excuse me?"

Foreman meets him with a cool gaze, unflinching. "Your job, Chase. Are you still capable of—"

"I heard you perfectly fine the first time," Chase growls, low and irate. His shoulders tic sharply up to his ears, and he willfully ignores the pointed look Foreman gives. "I've been here longer than you have. Believe me, if I was incapable, I wouldn't even be a passing thought in your mind."

"Then why are you so afraid to tic in front of House?" he demands. 

"I'm sorry, would you be eager to twitch around like an imbecile?" Chase snaps. His elbow jerks backward; the rising tension's making his tics worse, triggering the bigger, more complex ones. "I'm sure you're just so damn excited to watch me have a tic attack."

"Everything I know about Tourette's says that you're not supposed to suppress your tics."

"Oh, yeah, just lecture me about my own disorder, why don't you."

"I'm the neurologist here!"

"And I'm the one who's had Tourette's for the past twelve years." Chase glares at Foreman, valiantly ignoring the way his neck jerks sharply to the side once again. At least, until it doesn't stop. 

Cameron's hands press down on his shoulders, guiding him into a chair as his head snaps to the right over and over and over again. "Chase," she says quietly. She's done this a few times before; Chase prefers to ride it out alone, but sometimes, a grounding presence becomes necessary and Cameron's never had any qualms about it.

"I-I-I'm f-fine," he manages, eyes squeezed shut, voice stuttering with every sharp twist of his neck. "Gi-ive it a minute."

Both Foreman and Cameron are quiet aside from the shuffling and gathering of papers while he rides out the loop, jerking his head violently enough at one point that his neck cracks. It's immediately followed by the heel of his palm coming up to press against the bottom of his chin, forcing him to look up at the ceiling for a long handful of seconds until his hand drops back to his side.

"I tic in front of House," Chase murmurs, once the irrepressible urge to tic finally dissipates. "But I'm not going to interrupt him with a vocal tic if I can hold it back until he's done talking. Our jobs are the one thing standing between our patients and death. What we do every day, that matters. My Tourette's cannot get in the way of that."

Before Foreman can say anything else, a nurse throws the door open. "Your patient's just had a seizure," he says, face grim. "Grand mal."

Cameron sighs, gathering her supplies together, changing topics easily. "Let's rule out mono, then."

-

He makes it to just past two in the afternoon before the exhaustion actually slams into him. Foreman's statement earlier was true; while he's not having a bad tic day, per se, he can still admit it when they're worse than usual. He can't even make it through a full minute without ticcing in some regard, whether they're motor or vocal, and frankly, it's tiring to jerk his limbs around for the entire day. His neck is sore, his shoulders ache, and his eyes hurt from the amount of pressure his blinking tics puts on them, not to mention the constant buzz in his throat that threatens to interrupt him if he talks. 

More than anything, Chase just wants to go home and sleep.

He glances up from the centrifuge when Cameron walks in with yet another blood sample in hand, aiming for the microscope. The door shuts quietly behind her, and she waits until she's pressed a drop of blood in between two slides to say, "Hey."

"Hello," Chase replies, and carefully opens the centrifuge after the light turns green. He pulls the first of the vials with their patient's blood sample out of the chamber, then examines it with a critical eye.

"You find anything?"

He sighs, head jerking before he places it back down in the rack on the table. "Both her plasma and her blood cell level seem normal. What're you checking for, antibodies?"

"Yep," Cameron says, unconsciously popping the 'p'. Chase mimics it as a phonic tic, shoulders hunching forward just as Cameron looks back to him, sympathy on her face. "It hasn't calmed down at all?" she asks, brows furrowed.

"No, it has, just, you know," he says, shrugging, "echopraxia. I think." He makes a face; phonic tics aren't technically motor or vocal, and Chase's mimicry doesn't exactly categorize into either being echopraxia or echolalila.

"Have you been able to talk with Foreman about it?"

"I don't plan on it."

Cameron stares at him. "What do you mean?"

"I don't want to talk to him about it. It's simple," he says, taking out another vial. Same result; both the plasma and blood cell levels appear completely normal.

"You kind of have to talk to him about it, though," she says, ever the pragmatist, "if he's going to continue to bother you about your ability to do your job. You've spoken to him about it once before, right? Surely, it's not that hard to do it again?"

Chase glances up at her. "House was the one to tell him I have Tourette's. I didn't have that discussion with him."

The heavy sigh Cameron gives is audible, even from Chase's position all the way across the room. "Chase," she says, disappointment lacing her tone.

"What?"

"You have to talk to him, or else he's going to keep questioning you."

Then, it's Chase's turn to sigh. "Cameron, do you want to know just how many times I've dealt with people who've doubted my ability to perform as a doctor?"

"...Not really."

"Exactly. What I'm saying is, people like Foreman? He's not going to believe me if I just tell him I can do my job. Today, and every day onward, I have to actually do my job and do it just as well as he does, if not even better," Chase says. "That's just how it is."

Cameron frowns. "That's not fair to you."

"Well, most things rarely are." The first shrug he gives is on purpose, and the second, more violent, is a tic. "I'm used to it. People like to focus on the one reason they consider me incompetent rather than the many reasons that I'm not. It’s just a fact of life. Nearly everyone I've ever learned, trained, or worked alongside has doubted me in some capacity. I've learned not to take it personally."

The expression on Cameron's face is indecipherable. Chase doesn't bother trying, though, just disposes of the samples and walks out of the lab. They have bigger and more important things to deal with than Foreman's issues with him.

"Chase, wait!" Cameron's shout makes him tic, an elbow jerking back and narrowly missing a passing nurse, who glares at him. He tries to give an apologetic smile, but the nurse just scoffs and keeps walking, clipboard tucked under their arm. His opposite shoulder jerks inward twice as they walk away, and he sighs before turning back to Cameron, who's just now caught up to him.

"You didn't leave that blood sample in the rack uncovered, did you?" he asks. "If so, that's a violation of the sanitary codes."

She ignores him. "Have you ever thought of the fact that people might stop doubting you if you actually talked to them?"

"Did you listen to a single word I just said? Evidently not; you're j-ust like the rest of them."

"Chase."

"Cameron."

"Just talk to Foreman," she says. "It doesn’t have to be a lot, but just talk to him. At the very least, give him a chance."

"Why should I?"

"You said it yourself, House was the one to tell him about your Tourette's," Cameron points out. At Chase's raised eyebrow, she rolls her eyes. "What? I listen. The point is, Foreman hasn't heard anything directly from you, and knowing House, the only thing he said to him was 'one of your new coworkers has Tourette's Syndrome' and nothing else."

"How do you know that?"

"What do you think he told me?"

Cameron's wry smile gives him pause. "Was that all he said to you?"

"Yep." She doesn't pop the 'p' this time.

"Did you press him for more details?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It seemed like an invasion of privacy."

"Nobody doesn't want to ask questions."

"Of course not," Cameron agrees. "I had questions. I just waited to ask them until the situation was appropriate. I really didn't want your first impression of me to be the asshole who asked if you curse all the time."

"Yeah. I appreciated that."

"You're welcome. Still, Chase, I've asked you plenty of questions since I started working here, and I'd like to think that you're the most open with your tics around me. Or... Wilson, maybe, but from our team? You do trust me more than House, right?"

He thinks for a moment. It's true; Cameron is the one who knows how to properly deal with his tics if they're overwhelming him, despite the fact that he's worked with House longer. The elder doctor doesn't acknowledge them much, just makes jabs occasionally or takes offense on Chase's behalf. Which, on one hand, doesn't make them worse, but on the other, always makes Chase feel just a bit more awkward when interacting with him. Cameron doesn't ever go far enough as to respond to his vocal tics the way Wilson does, but she'll ask if he's okay after a particularly violent motor tic or give him a few extra moments to gather himself in conversation.

Chase has to admit it. "Yes."

"Trust me on this, then. You can clear a lot of things up if you just talk to him," she says, then starts to walk away. Halfway to the lab, she pauses, and turns back toward him. "Chase?"

"Yes?"

"In the five minutes we've been taking, how many times did you tic?"

"I don't know," he says, dubious. "Five, six, maybe?"

She smiles. "They've calmed down a bit, at least."

It's the little moments like that one that really get him to appreciate Cameron. Of course, he immediately ruins it by ticcing and smacking the bottom of his chin with the heel of his palm, but he'll take the small victories. Five minutes of minimal ticcing is better than none.

-

"Toxoplasmosis?"

"It fits. And better than anything else we've come up with."

"But toxoplasmosis?" Foreman repeats, incredulous. "Are you sure?"

"He's right," House says, limping over to the board. "Toxoplasmosis covers every symptom displayed." He erases their previous diagnosis, then scrawls out TOXOPLASMOSIS at the top before nodding at Chase to continue.

"She's immunocompromised," Chase explains as his left elbow jerks idly backward. "It's very possible that she's one of the few cases that actually presents with symptoms. Especially considering how perfectly said symptoms fit her illness."

Foreman nods. "Alright."

"Give her a combination of pyrimethamine and sulfadiazine, along with leucovorin," House instructs. "If that doesn't work, and it should, switch her over to sulfamethoxazole-trimethoprim but keep the leucovorin. Cameron, go tell her friend that she's going to be fine."

"On it," Cameron says, heading out of the room. As she does, she locks eyes with Chase and cants her head toward Foreman, then pushes the door open and leaves.

Foreman looks over to him, brows furrowed. "What was that about?"

Chase sighs. "I'll explain after we treat the patient."

"Alright," Foreman says, obvious in his suspicion.

Nevertheless, he leads the way over to the pharmacy, gives half of the medication to Chase, and then follows the younger up to their patient's room. "Kayla, how're you doing?"

The woman smiles tiredly up at him. Her red hair is splayed out wide across the pillow, her hands resting on top of the blanket on her lap. "I'm okay," she says, propping herself up on her right elbow. "My head still hurts, though. Could you maybe give me something for that?"

"Even better," Chase says, holding up his vial of leucovorin for Kayla to see. "We've got your treatment." His opposite shoulder tenses up only slightly, not enough for Foreman to notice. Kayla, however, does, judging by the sudden crease in her brow. She doesn't press, thankfully, and Chase's face screws up in a momentary grimace before he moves over to the drawer to pull out a drip.

It's not like their patients haven't known about it before. Hell, Chase nearly had a tic attack in a patient's room after they kept purposefully triggering his tics, despite the instructions not to and House's increasingly angry glares whenever they did so. Needless to say, Cuddy hadn't protested when House requested to transfer them to another doctor when the guy just wouldn't stop.

They set her up on the drips and give her a shot of morphine for the residual pain, and leave with the promise to check up on her in a couple of hours, as well as a probably release tomorrow, once they get the medication in pill form.

And then, Foreman drags him out of the room and into the hallway, asking, "So, that exchange with Cameron?" as they walk back toward their room.

Chase sighs, nodding. He opens his mouth to speak, and—

—nothing.

Awkward, uncomfortable silence lies stagnant between them, and Foreman only stares at Chase as he tries to gather his thoughts enough to actually say what he needs to say, doing his best not to tic and ruin the seriousness of the moment.

"We need to talk," he eventually blurts. "About my Tourette's."

Foreman sighs. "Look, Chase, I'm sorry if anything that I said earlier upset you—"

"I should have phrased that differently," he interrupts. "I need to talk. You need to listen to me, even if only for a moment." Chase, determined, sets his jaw and meets Foreman's surprised gaze.

"Okay," he concedes, shockingly easily.

Chase nods, once, sharp and curt. "You don't get to lecture me about my disorder," he starts. "You just don't. I honestly don't give a damn that you're a neurologist; my Tourette's is not something you're entitled to comment on just because it's come up in your studies. You have to earn that privilege.

"I get that you're new. I get that sometimes, it's hard to believe me what I say that I am more than capable of doing by job, but you need to believe me when I say I know my limits. I am not going to do something just to prove a point, just to say that a person with Tourette's can do it. If it is unsafe for me to do something, I will ask someone else to do it. Cameron and House can both attest to that.

"If you trust me, then I will trust you back, and I will go to you in case I need a moment or someone to fill in for me. If not, then we might waste valuable time while I find someone else who I am comfortable enough with to speak to. Alright?"

Foreman stares at him, eyes wide, incredulous. Maybe it's because Chase has never been so candid on the matter, or maybe because this was not the conversation he was expecting to have. Regardless, he nods, almost dumbfounded.

"Good. I'm glad that's clear," Chase says, then walks off, white coat swishing behind him. He hums, the same tic as earlier in the day, and smiles faintly to himself.

[sap-woods]

This is the worst infectious illness I have ever had in my life. It was just a sore throat at first, a few sneezes... like a normal cold. Then came the other respiratory symptoms—runny nose, congestion, the usual. But then... the fatigue settled in. I can barely tolerate typing this because my fingers are so tired. I can only sit up intermittently. The headache came next... pressure, from every direction. Like my head might pop.

The sore throat has gone from normal to... intolerable. I've had horrible sore throats before, like strep. This feels similar. Desiccated. But it doesn't just feel like its in the pharynx. It feels like a shard of glass lodged between the vocal folds. It hurts even at rest: a sharp, burning, stabbing pain. It feels like it's on fire. It wakes me up at night, and I have to go cough down a Ricola with menthol to try get back to sleep. It feels like the pain elevates, expands as I swallow; a sharp, unbearable ripple that makes me gag when I eat. When I do manage to eat, the digestive symptoms hit me. But the less I eat, the more the fatigue seeps in. If I drink, it burns as it goes down. If I don't drink enough, I wake up in more pain, dried out, in the middle of the night.

I'm just trying to get through this doing the bare minimum that ensures the survival of me and my cat. But the more time passes, the more the panic seeps in for how I'm going to get what is easily a couple months of work done between now and the end of my school year contract, twelve days. But I can't even think straight... never mind writing three outstanding evaluation reports and 50 progress reports.

[firelord-frowny]

yall these last several days have been THE! WORST!!!!

or idk, not the worst lmao i tend to try to save catastrophic language for actual catastrophes these days and since nobody is dead or maimed, i guess "really really sucked" is the better way to describe it.

but anyway. it really really sucked so bad that i dont even feel like properly ranting about it, so here's a bulleted list of the suckage. -Had (probably) the flu for like two weeks. Missed two weeks of volunteering and one week of work. -Felt better! Volunteered. Went to work. -Throat got sore in the middle of the night. like i literally FELT it get sore in real time. felt it swell. -Sore throat morphed to include an ear ache. -Also felt nauseous several times throughout the day. -went with my mom to go pick up groceries and also one single item to hopefully expedite my recovery (those lil emergen-c supplement drink packets) and somehow wound up getting yelled at about what an inconvenience it is to ~have~ to make a 20 minute round trip to pick up groceries that included something for me🙃 i literally would have just done an instacart order like i usually do but we already needed groceries and that is the only reason i put it in the grocery order so i guess that somehow means that its My Fault the household needed groceries and i guess a 20 minute trip is the worst fucking thing a person can be bothered to do on a sunday afternoon. i mean nevermind the asparagus and the yellow squash and the cornbread mix and the condensed milk and the walnuts and the clam strips and the bananas and the whole grain cereal and the canned vegetables and the frozen berries and all the other shit that aint have JACK to do with me, bc my vitamin c supplement made all of that moot and the sole reason for going to get groceries was because im a needy piece of shit whose better off idk dying of meningitis or soemthing, idfk.

-had a virtual ~urgent care~ visit. got prescribed antibiotics for what's probably a sinus infection gone nuclear. that was yesterday.

-today! throat still hurt like a bitch. couldn't really eat or drink much but I had an apple and some water before taking a dose of ibuprofen.

-went to work. started getting a migraine on the way. benadryl often takes the edge off of my migraines so my dad (who was giving me a ride to work) agreed to swing by a store and pick some up after dropping me off at work, and then swing back and bring me the meds.

-HOWEVER! you know what the first thing i did upon pulling into the parking lot at work was?

-puke. A LOT. big ol pile of puke in the parking lot. disgusting.

-called the front desk and let them know that i in fact made it to work but that i just vomited my guts out in the parking lot and should probably go home. they were like, "yikes, yeah, definitely go home, please feel better soon" and canceled all my students for the day. I'm Extra Upset by this bit because 2 of my students have missed a lot of lessons recently (one because they were on vacation, another because there were no lessons on 4th of july, another because a different student canceled, and one because i was sick) and i really really really want to keep as much consistency as possible both for the student's progression, and for increasing my chances that they'll keep me as a teacher. and i also had one new adult student that i saw for the first time last week and am super bummed that i already had to throw a wrench in his new experience learning an instrument.

anyway,

-throat was still hurting like a BITCH and i obviously needed to eat and drink especially since i THREW THE HELL UP EARLIER so i made another virtual urgent care appointment.

-got through the entire intake process as far as submitting all the forms. all that was left was for someone to call me and confirm all the info.

-i get the call! confirm the info! the lady says she'll send me a link to the visit as soon as we hang up.

-BUT THEN she asks me if i'd had a virtual visit the day before for the same reason, and i said yeah! and then she says! that i can't have a virtual visit because blah blah blah they cant do telehealth appointments for one patient for the same reason in less than 7 days! which like! ok i guess but PERHAPS THAT COULD HAVE BEEN POINTED OUT WHEN I SELECTED THE REASON IN THE INTAKE FORMS 15 MINUTES AGO???

-but whatever! okay fine! so i made an appointment for the in person clinic and was able to be seen relatively quickly.

-everybody was super nice (literally all of the medical people i've dealt with over the last two days have been super nice) and one of the desk ladies told me i have a "really sweet voice" and that made me Happyyyy and so i told her how happy it made me and that it meant an extra lot because i used to have a violin teacher who would tell me my voice was annoying and the lady was like "omg wtf" and i was like "i know right? i was like 13" and she's like "daaaaang wtf!' and im like RIGHT???

-even though i was able to be seen relatively quickly it still took kind of a long time for the nurse practitioner herself to get to me, but once she did, it was smooth sailing from there. covid, flu, and strep tests were negative. prescribed me prednisone for the sore throat. took my first dose in the clinic. picking up the rest of it from a pharmacy tomorrow.

-its now 3am as i type this and my throat is feeling significantly better. took my 3rd dose of antibiotics earlier tonight, along with some tylenol, since apparently ibuprofen can have some reactions with prednisone, and since my throat at that moment was still pretty sore. but i think by now i can finally EAT SOMETHING so thats what imma do, and then imma *samuel l jackson voice* Go The Fuck To Sleep.

[slightlyunconventional]

right im too tired to write tonight (very sorry 😔) but i will tide you over with some k/az thoughts and headcanons and rambles because im in a very k/azzy mood 🫶🏻 hope this will suffice

- REALLY bad pollen/spring allergies. from like april to july he's totally suffering, eyes watery and red-rimmed, nose chapped and angrily scarlet

- a flower i think he'd be especially sensitive to is may night salvia (ill put a picture of it right at the bottom of this post) which just happens to probably be one of i/nej's favourites (she'd also possibly (probably) use it to tease him because it's so slender and long and AH)

- he also definitely sometimes forgets to close the window before he goes to bed, so then he wakes up feeling like his head is stuffed with cotton wool and it's only a matter of moments before he's sneezing in fits

- pollen sneezes are usually messy and harsh, practically unstifleable (definitely not a real word) so he has to muffle them as best as he can into his elbow (or freely into the air if he's alone and desperate enough)

- dust allergy too!! anything from dusty books to closets to vents will set him off. and he's VERY embarrassed of it

- his dust sneezes are very itchy-sounding, usually pretty pitchy (some would describe them as rather cute.), and they're easier to stifle than his pollen sneezes. often, he ends up in rapid dust fits during which the sneezes just sort of burst out of him in quick succession and he just absolutely can't get a hold of himself

- he definitely frequently has the two sneezes in one breath thing, a kinda "haAHH'ISSHHh-ISCHHhiew!" each time

- ugh the RAIN makes him sneeze too. or just generally being soaking wet. so getting out of the shower into the cold definitely teases a few sneezes out of him until he's dried off

- he can definitely be counted on to get at least one cold every winter. it started with a mildly sore and sensitive throat, then progresses to mild congestion, sniffles, and light headaches, and then it'll be pure exhaustion, wracking fits of sneezing and coughing, and the occasional fever and/or migraine. poor guy.

- cold sneezes are wet wet wet !! they're loud too, which he hates but he really can't help the volume :( he tries to stifle them but it makes his head hurt so he usually has to avoid it. so much for dark and mysterious if you can't even stifle a sneeze amirite

- i saw a post (might have reblogged it?) that had a dialogue prompt thing that was like "you can't get three feet from a box of kleenex without sneezing" and i just think that is SO i/nej to k/az when he's got a particularly sneezy cold. he probably has to either shove a load of tissues in his pockets or just carry the box around with him because he can't seem to stop sneezing

- i also love the image of him trying to focus on picking a lock and getting gradually more and more frustrated because he keeps having to duck to the side to sneeze heavily (itchy for no reason type beat)

that's all !! ill probably post more of this type of post in future (especially when s2 comes out 🤭)

and here's the may night salvia i mentioned before! torturously tickle, i'd say ;)

[memory-mortis]

So

Aurelius’s arms

How uh

How beefy are they

How many people members of the polycule can he carry

Also what kind of tea does Alpina like. Cause I totally don’t have a stash of flower tea ha ha nope

Do the polycule have regular tea sessions

What do they like with their tea

Does Erien like tea

What does ainsworth think of traditional medicines/modern medicines

Can ainsworth cure my sore throat it hurts :(

Where does each of the (revealed) polycule like to be kissed

How big is the polycule

How big is the bed

Who hogs the blanket

Also I just realised but how does erien power work because she hypnotise’s people right so how many of the members are there because they wanna be there or they’re there because magic

Also I see your top 5 ask I’ll get to it soon maybe

SHDAHJ ivy can i just say that your love for my polycule has me in tears because omg i've never been prompted to talk about my ocs like this

anyway, putting this under the cut cause i'll know it'll get lengthy

so, to answer your questions:

aurelius is very much the beefiest of the group. i mean, he swings his axe almost daily and he's cut down a tree or two before, plus he used to be a soldier. so, to answer your question: he can lift two people at once. he's been also trying to get stronger so that he could lift them all at once.

alpina is very much into herbal teas. since where they live is pretty secluded (in the middle of a forest on a mountain), she doesn't get much access to different kinds of tea, as much as she'd love to experiment, and so herbs are kind of the most accessible. when ainsworth has to go to the city for supplies, she usually asks them to bring black tea and something new that she hasn't tried before. out of all the herbs, i'd have to say chamomile is her favorite.

the tea parties are more of an alpina and aurelius thing, although ainsworth does join them sometimes. erien is not that much of a fan but if she's offered tea she will absolutely accept.

aurelius usually bakes biscuits for tea time. he made alpina promise not to tell anyone but everyone knows even without her spilling the secret.

ainsworth is definitely leaning towards modern medicine and progress. they own a library full of medicinal books and some of them are their own journals. everyone in this polycule is some sort of outcast - and ainsworth is no exception ;) (and absolutely they'd treat you and give you a forehead kiss as an extra)

erien loves to be kissed on the wrist and neck, ainsworth loves forehead and cheek kisses, alpina loves to be kissed on the shoulder, and aurelius, though he won't admit it, turns into jello with a simple kiss on the lips

currently i'm thinking of adding one more person but i think that'll be it

actually, everyone has their own room with their own bed in case they want privacy. but erien's bed is gigantic and everyone fits there so they often sleep together. erien and alpina absolutely play a game of tug o war in their sleep

SO that's actually something i've been thinking about!! erien's hypnosis works like emotion manipulation. you have to look into her eyes for it to work - and then she can freely amplify your feelings. what she usually does is make herself more charismatic so people are more likely to forgive her and let her do whatever she wants, and in the polycule's case, she makes their love and adoration stronger. it is constant, kind of like an aura or vibrations if i had to visualize it. but there is one secret that most of the polycule doesn't know: ainsworth, who was the very first member, is not hypnotized. they're kind of special

[somewhat-mistaken]

I suspect I fucked up my tonsils by purging.

I've been purging more often than usual and yesterday I woke up with a sore throat, which progressed over the day into a fever and headache. When I got home from work I checked my throat with a flashlight and my tonsils looked clawed up and swollen. My theory is my long nails did some damage and they got infected.

Still sick today to the point where it hurts to talk, but I'm going to work anyway because this is a day I don't want to miss.

Bright side is I get to liquid fast. On the other hand I feel like I'm going to die lol