Is your kink seeing Alastor suffer? If so, then you’re in the right place! (If it’s not, please ignore me.) This blog is for adults only. Make sure you have your age on your profile before you interact!
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My Ao3
Fic Masterlist
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I don’t have a nickname to go by here… Mis? Miz? Like miserable? Idk, call me whatever you want. Any pronouns. I’m keeping my identity a mystery.
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Below is a list of things you might find on this blog (& what you won’t).
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Things you might find:
illness
snz (that’s most of it tbh)
violence/injury
general whump
anything else that makes a character look pathetic and miserable
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Things you won’t find:
em*to
sexually explicit content (suggestive content is fine)
ai-generated content
If there’s anything you don’t want to see, you can block the tag for it. That’s all I have for now!
Vincent stayed late in the studio, even though he's sick. He takes a "cat nap" on the couch, just a quick 20 mins to rest his eyes before he gets back to work... Alastor goes looking for him and finds him sound asleep, drooling and sweaty and nose leaking, and Al can't believe his life choices have lead him to this.
"Hey, I noticed you've been distracted by YouTube shorts for a few minutes now. Would you like to resume watching 'hot desperate needy wet messy snotty chhinkni sneezing and thick gurgly noseblowing' on the TV?
You know, the one downstairs? In the living room? The FAMILY television? That one? Would you like to watch sneeze porn on the family television? You can click this pop-up one time to broadcast sneeze porn from your phone, onto the family TV downstairs. This is for your convenience."
Living with husband: "Oh haha was my phone speaker on, whoopsies, good thing we're alone in the bedroom--"
Living with granddad: separate phone, separate account, never pair with anything other than the ONE headset, VPN, phone speaker audio OFF, only listen after midnight and never on Sundays...
B/axter creating some kind of plant monster, but the mutations it goes through change the properties of its pollen, and he finds out he’s allergic to it
And it spreads its pollen all over the lab. Now he can’t run his experiments without pausing to sneeze or blow his nose
OUGHH I WANNA BE ALLERGIC N PATHETIC N SNEEZY SO BAD. I WANNA BE A PATHETIC NB GUY FOR A HOT BUTCH OR FEMME. I WANT A SENSITIVE ASS NOSE THAT CANT STAND MOST ALLERGENS AND HAVE RAPID SNEEZING FITS ALL THE TIME AND AND AND
GOOD LORD THIS IS ALMOST 5K WORDS- so that’s why it took so long lol
A/lastor shows up to an Overlord meeting sick, and is embarrassed about how obvious it is. AKA the A/lastor Gets Bullied fic.
Minors/ageless blogs DNI, this is an 18+ blog
The way Alastor presented himself was carefully crafted to keep others guessing. He had a strange set of standards he held himself to that only he seemed to understand. Courtesy and good manners were important to him, except when he felt like disregarding them to be petty. He always showed up to events on time, unless he didn’t show up at all and offered no explanation for his absence. He’d eat the flesh straight off a sinner’s corpse, but only with a fork and knife, because he refused to be seen eating severed limbs with his hands.
Today’s Overlord meeting was one of those events he’d decided he could not miss. It was going to be the first time he and the other Overlords had gotten together since Vox led his attack against Heaven that had nearly destroyed the city. Drama and gossip was guaranteed, and Alastor just had to know what everyone would say about Vox’s stunt. There was only one small issue: he woke up admittedly not feeling the best. The minor headache and slightly stuffy nose that started the previous night had fully blossomed into a cold, leaving his head feeling heavy and his nose running endlessly.
He went about his morning as usual, ignoring the fatigue that clung to him. It was only a minor inconvenience, something hardly worth his attention. After getting dressed, he brushed his hair in front of his vanity mirror, examining his appearance with a dissatisfied hum. Over the decades of perfecting his public persona, Alastor had memorized every outward aspect of himself. He knew exactly how to carry himself and appear confident and poised, so when something about him looked off, he could tell. He looked tired, and just couldn’t quite match his usual liveliness. Insomnia wasn’t all that uncommon for him, however, so he was used to pushing through a lack of sleep.
He kept to his room, trying not to linger in the halls for too long, just in case any of the other hotel residents recognized that he was feeling under the weather. Charlie was his main concern, because if she found out, she wouldn’t want him leaving the hotel. She would insist on looking after him, smothering him in concern and unnecessary affection. It was best that no one knew so he could handle it himself. He spent the rest of his morning reading, finishing off a cup of coffee to soothe his dry throat and keeping a handkerchief on hand to tend to his dripping nose.
His plan of taking it easy was, unfortunately, not helping as much as he had hoped. It was nearly time for him to leave for the meeting, and his symptoms were no easier to hide. Alastor took one final look at himself in the mirror, straightening out his coat and bow tie. His nostrils were noticeably reddened from all his rubbing. He could have tried covering it up with makeup, but he knew from past experience that powdered makeup and soft brushes did not mix well with a sensitive nose. The most he could do was blow his nose a few times and hope the congestion would let up for a little while. He also took a dose of painkillers, the only kind of medicine he kept in his room, to help stop his budding headache. The rest was up to him to mask behind a fanged grin and impeccable self-control. He summoned his microphone staff into his hand and disappeared into the shadows.
Some of the other Overlords were chatting in the hallway as they slowly filtered into the conference room. Maestro was talking with Zestial, who had Carmilla at his side. Zeezi was the first to choose her seat. It was impressive that she even fit in the chairs, given her gigantic size. Valentino was there to represent the Vees, dressed in a purple coat instead of his usual red, and wearing extravagant gold jewelry. Vox had yet to make a public appearance since the “incident,” as they were calling it. Alastor’s gaze stopped on one person in particular: Rosie. They hadn’t seen each other since the day he broke out of their deal, and while they had settled their little argument peacefully, he still wasn’t in the best mood around her.
They both did their part to act like nothing had changed as she greeted him. She told him how business at the emporium was going, and he gossiped about the guests at the hotel, trying not to sniffle too often. He tried not to strain his voice, though the scratchy feeling in his throat never fully went away, drawing out a few raspy coughs. It was only a few minutes until Rosie decided to point it out. “You know, you should really stay home when you’re unwell so you don’t spread whatever you have around,” she chided, waving a finger in his direction.
He knew this reaction was coming, yet he still dreaded to acknowledge that everyone would be able to tell he was sick. “And miss out on important information? Please, it’s nothing to worry about.” He put on a confident grin, though the growing congestion in his voice betrayed it.
The two headed over to an empty pair of chairs, passing Valentino along the way. The moth demon’s eyes trailed up and down Alastor. “Ay, you look like shit,” he called out.
He narrowed his eyes without looking at him. “Brilliant observation. Glad those glasses seem to be working,” he said, gesturing at Valentino’s face with his staff. The end of his sentence was practically cut off by more coughing that left his throat aching. As he leaned his staff against the table and sat down, he heard a teasing “someone’s feisty.” He tried clearing his throat, his smile sharpening into a slight wince at the lingering pain. At this rate, his voice wasn’t even going to make it through the end of the day, and Alastor quickly decided it would be better to be uncharacteristically quiet than to risk losing his voice entirely.
Carmilla was the last to sit down, setting on the table a sheet of paper that seemed to have a few notes written on it. “Thank you all for coming,” she began, scarlet eyes drifting over the group. “I know all of us would like to move on from the attack on Heaven, but I am, in part, to blame for it. I frankly did not expect things to get out of hand so quickly, and for that, I apologize. Going forward, I will be more strict in my distribution of weapons.”
“And what of Heaven’s response?” Zestial asked.
The two of them carried the meeting for a while, as they were the most concerned about the chance of Heaven retaliating against Hell. Alastor sat through the conversation sniffling, eventually summoning a handkerchief and trying to be discreet about how often he needed to wipe his nose. All he had to do was keep disruptions to a minimum, and he was sure no one would pay him any mind.
“I don’t think we should be too worried,” Zeezi added. “The blame’s on Vox. It’s not anyone else’s problem.”
About twenty minutes in, Alastor’s nose started to itch. He knew it was likely that he’d feel the need to sneeze at some point during the meeting, but he was also confident in his ability to ignore it. It was subtle at first, slowly building over the course of a few minutes. He tried to push the prickly feeling out of his mind, focusing his attention on the conversation as Zeezi went off on a tangent about a fight she’d witnessed at Klub Kaiju. His nose seemed to be sensitive to its own dripping, however, the constant movement of congestion further irritating his nasal passages. He lightly rubbed at his nostrils with his handkerchief, and when that didn’t help, he grit his teeth through a shaky inhale. “Hh’kt!” He managed to keep that one barely audible, though it did nothing to relieve the itch. His breath hitched again immediately after, this time coming out a little more vocal. “H…Hih’tczhh!”
He was pretty sure he caught Zestial looking at him, since he was closest to the seat across the table from him. Rosie absolutely heard him, but her only reaction was taking a quick glance at him. She thought he sounded cute like this. He just knew she was thinking it, despite her scolding him earlier.
Carmilla spoke up once the room went quiet. “Does anyone else have any announcements or updates?”
“I have an announcement!” Valentino chirped, waving one of his upper pair of arms.
She didn’t look particularly excited about whatever he had to say. Considering how her interactions with the other two Vees had gone recently, she was understandably distant towards them. “Go ahead.”
“Well, since I kind of saved everyone from my business partner—you’re welcome, by the way—” He stood up and reached all four hands into his coat pockets, then suddenly threw fistfuls of red glitter and confetti into the air. That was going to end up absolutely everywhere. “I’m taking over as the new head of VoxTek!” He paused, arms hanging in the air for a moment before he lowered them and quickly added, “We’re still thinking about changing the name.”
Carmilla sighed, covering her face with one hand. Zeezi looked quite amused. Valentino reached into his pocket again, this time pulling out his now glitter-covered phone. He walked to the other side of the table, and just happened to blow the fine particulates off the screen right as he passed Alastor. The deer demon held his breath, until his nose started to drip and he reflexively sniffed a few times. Valentino tapped his phone, and suddenly, a large, blue screen was being projected onto the wall from somewhere. It had to be some device Vox installed during a past meeting.
“Alright, so there’s gonna be some changes at VoxTek, and I’ve prepared a little presentation to show you what’s going on behind the scenes.” A slideshow appeared on the screen, titled “VoxTek(?): Under New Management.” The slides were very obviously a collaboration between the Vees, as they each typed in a different color. “First off, I’m expanding my studio! We’ve increased our filming budget so I can make even sexier, kinkier movies.”
Normally, Alastor would’ve had some clever remark about the moth’s taste in films, but he was currently too preoccupied with his irritated sinuses. Whatever he had managed to breathe in was already stirring up an itch. He scrubbed at his nose as subtly as he could, but it only stopped the feeling for a brief moment. He clenched his jaw, his smile unwavering, too focused on not sneezing to listen to whatever Valentino was saying. It was only delaying the inevitable, though. He pressed a knuckle under his nostrils, and his expression faltered with an unsteady breath.
“Alastor, do you have anything to say?” the moth sang, baring his cerise fangs in a wide grin.
Oh, fuck you. If anything, bringing his attention back to the present only made him lose his composure faster. He pinched his nose shut, doing his best to stifle his sneezes with as little movement as possible. “Hh… Hhkxhff! Ihg’kzshh— ‘Kzzhf!” Had they been in a less professional setting, he would’ve summoned a shadowy tentacle to grab Valentino and cover that big mouth of his. He dreaded opening his eyes after how pitiful his sneezes sounded, averting his gaze while he took out his handkerchief to wipe up the unsightly mess dripping from his nose. He really didn’t want to blow his nose with everyone watching, though his congested sniffling wasn’t exactly quiet, either. “Sngk! Dond’t let mbe distragct you,” he said through gritted teeth.
Valentino burst out laughing, and had to catch his breath before he could speak. “Aww, did someone let a kitten in here? I didn’t know you could be so adorable, ciervo.”
Zeezi at least had the courtesy to try to suppress her laughter as she looked down at him. “Damn, you good?”
Alastor tensed, his smile practically a snarl. He’d never been prone to stage fright, but this feeling was something similar. He felt his face heating up enough that he was starting to sweat, and he couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eyes. “Doi’g just fide.” He desperately wanted to disappear into the shadows—or maybe throw himself into traffic—but how cowardly would he look then? At least there were no further comments made about him while Valentino reached the end of his presentation.
“Oh right, there’s one more thing.” He began to rather reluctantly read the text on the final slide, which was typed in a massive font that covered most of the screen. “VoxTek formally apologizes for any damages done to other Overlords’ territories caused by ‘the incident.’ Vox’s efforts were misguided, and we will ensure this does not happen again.” The screen actually said ‘Our efforts were misguided.’ “We do not take responsibility for damages caused by any persons outside of VoxTek. Any questions? No? Good!” Valentino turned off the projection and gave a bow as if he was standing on a stage, then returned to his seat.
Zestial flicked a piece of confetti off his shoulder. “T’was certainly a… colorful display.”
“Let’s take a quick break,” Carmilla said firmly, standing up. “Meet back here in ten minutes.”
Alastor stood up slowly, rubbing the bridge of his nose as the shift made his head throb. So much for those painkillers being of any help. Blinking away the pain, he spotted Carmilla setting a box of tissues near the center of the table, though it was undoubtedly closer to his chair than anyone else’s. Where did those come from? Did she grab them from a stash of office supplies while he wasn’t looking? It was then he noticed the feeling of moisture running from his nose, rapidly sniffling in a poor attempt to stop it. He grabbed a tissue, turning away from everyone while he wiped his face, and prayed that nobody else noticed. After taking a quick glance, it seemed that no one was looking in his direction.
While everyone else seemed to be distracted, he slipped away into the restroom, where he could properly deal with his nose without being seen. As soon as he stepped into the brightly-lit room, the faint burning in his sinuses flared up again, turning into an unbearable itch. He reached for the paper towels—they were coarse and stiff, but grabbing them was quicker than fumbling for a dry section on his handkerchief—covering his face as he took in a gasping breath. “Hhid’TZZSHU! Hehh—HDTCH’hih! Hh… HEH’IGKZZH-hhuh!” He finished with a wet, heavy blow that was long overdue, and as he tossed the paper towel into the trash, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. If his nose wasn’t red before, it was practically glowing crimson now. There was fucking glitter in his hair. His whole face was a little reddened, making him look like he’d been standing outside during winter, and he was still hot with embarrassment.
He took a deep breath to ease his frustration, only for his lungs to rebel and throw him into a harsh fit of coughing. He nearly jumped when he heard the door swing open, a dark, looming figure gliding in behind him. “Thou art rather unwell, Alastor.”
Out of everyone, Zestial hearing how pitiful he sounded was the least mortifying option. Still, he tried to regain his composure, clearing his throat and taking slow, measured breaths. “Oh, hardly. It sounds worse than it is—” A few more coughs rasped against his throat, which he muffled into his fist the best he could.
“Perhaps thou ought to return home after this meeting."
Alastor’s ear flicked. He hated that it was true—he didn’t feel up to doing much else. “Well, I dohave work to do at the hotel.” He was already turning to walk out, not wanting to waste his energy arguing over his health.
He stalked down the hallway until he came to a break room. Spotting the coffee maker on the counter made him realize exactly what he needed to help him get through the rest of his day. The pot was empty, but all he had to do was conjure up a full one. The pot glowed with a green aura and magically filled. Alastor poured some into a paper cup, taking a drink after letting it cool for a moment. It still hurt to swallow, but the warmth soothed the pain a little.
Heading back to the conference room, he sat down next to Rosie once again. The table still had confetti and sparkles scattered across it—that was going to be a nightmare for the janitors to clean up. He idly glanced at the clock on the wall. It hadn’t even been an hour since he got there, and he was much too tired for having done so little. Sitting only seemed to make the fatigue creep up on him faster. The thought of going back to the hotel and taking a nap was actually starting to sound tempting. He leaned closer to Rosie and said quietly enough that only she heard, “If I start falling asleep, wake me up.”
Alastor silently waited for the meeting to end—silent, except for his snuffling and the faint rustling of him repeatedly pulling out his handkerchief. Sipping on his coffee was helping him stay awake, though he did feel Rosie nudge his leg under the table once. Surely she was just teasing him; he would’ve at least remembered closing his eyes. Although, he couldn’t recall much of anything that had happened in the last several minutes. He’d completely tuned out anything that wasn’t an indication that it was time to leave.
To his relief, he didn’t have to wait much longer before Carmilla spoke up. “If no one has any questions, then we’re done here. Thank you all for your time.” She stood up, everyone else soon doing the same and heading into the hall.
As they all made their way out of the building, Alastor lagged behind, with Rosie staying beside him. He already knew what she was planning before she even said a word. “You look awfully worn out, dear. Are you sure you’re not running a fever? You shouldn’t have come like this.” She raised a hand to feel the side of his face. There was the gentle fussing, the overly sweet concern, all to embarrass him even further.
He pulled away from her touch. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“Well your face looks flushed and you feel a bit warm. You’d better head back and get some rest.”
He looked away, ears drooping just slightly. As if being humiliated wasn’t enough, she had to draw attention to it, too. It felt childish, being so self-conscious over illness and sneezing of all things. He cleared his throat, his smile widening to mask the pain. “I do suppose I should be on my way. I’ll see you later, darling!” Magic pooled beneath him, enveloping him in a warping, flickering shadow. He sank down into the darkness and disappeared.
Alastor rematerialized in the hotel near the bar, leaning on his staff as he stepped out of the shadows to cover up the way he swayed on his feet. It was a bad sign that simple teleportation left him feeling weak and a little dizzy. Testing the limits of his balance was undoubtedly a bad idea, so he took a seat at the bar, holding his head in his hands and ignoring the way Husk raised an eyebrow at him. At least nobody else was around, leaving the area quiet enough for him to relax for the moment. The static in his vision quickly cleared, but there was still a faint buzzing in his head that made him think twice about standing up so soon.
“You want anything?” Husk finally asked.
His ears folded back. “I’m just sitting down for—“ he failed to choke back another bout of coughing, one that had been tickling the back of his throat for a while, “a few minutes.”
He didn’t have to say anything else to get his point across. Husk looked him over, then glanced over the empty room and said, “Then I’m takin’ a break. I don’t wanna catch whatever you’ve picked up.” The cat demon grabbed a bottle from one of the shelves behind him and walked off towards the kitchen. Alastor rested his head on his arms and closed his eyes. It should have been easy for him to simply get up and go to his room, but his head hurt and his body felt too heavy and he was too drained to think straight. He only needed a few minutes. As soon as he heard other people heading in his direction, he’d get up.
The sound of footsteps trailed down the stairs to the lobby as Lucifer walked by the bar. The King of Hell paused once he saw Alastor sitting there with his head down. He sat beside him, casually resting his head in his hand. “A little early in the afternoon for drinking, don’t you think?” The deer demon didn’t respond. He gave him a questioning look, lowering his head until it was nearly resting in the counter to try to get a look at Alastor’s face. “Are you actually asleep?”
One ear twitched, and he shifted—or rather, shuddered—before slowly sitting up. “What do you wandt?” he grated, his words swamped with congestion. As he took in a long sniffle, his breath snagged in his chest, forcing out a few sputtering coughs loosely caught by his fist.
Lucifer grimaced at the state of his voice. “Whatever you’re coming down with, it sounds nasty. What’re you doing passed out at the bar? And what’s with the, uh… sparkles?” He pointed in the direction of Alastor’s hair.
“A little stunt fromb a mbeeti’g,” he grumbled with a roll of his eyes. “And I was tryi’g to rest and relax, until you woke mbe— h-heh— up…” Irritation pricked at the back of his nose, demanding a proper release. He pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket, turning away and crumpling forward with a pair of wet sneezes. “Hh… Hh’DZZH-hiw! Hheh’KZSHUE!” The lights around him flickered, changing to the same neon green as his magic for a moment. The piece of fabric in his hand was quite drenched at that point, so he magically replaced it with a clean one before blowing his nose. He let out a staticky growl, frustrated that he felt worse after falling asleep.
Lucifer raised an eyebrow, giving him a look of disgust. “Why don’t you just go back to bed? You look like one more sneeze might knock you over.”
“I wandt to sit here.” His throat ached in protest of how much he was talking. He looked like a petulant child with the way his ears were lowered and his arms were crossed, though he was really just trying to warm himself as another chill ran through him.
The other gave a sarcastic hum of agreement. “You sure you’re not just too tired to get up?”
He grit his teeth, static hissing through the air. “Perhaps I should, if you indsist ond mbaki’g mby headache worse.” Unfortunately, standing up also made his headache worse, and added a wave of dizziness on top of it. Alastor held onto the countertop to keep himself steady, biting back a wince of pain. Lucifer only allowed him one step before he got up and opened a portal with a flick of his hand. On the other side was a red bedroom that magically connected to an open bayou.
“Seems like you’re struggling a little, there,” he smirked. “Need some help?”
The sinner’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t have the energy to deal with that pompous prick of a king. As much as he longed to spend the afternoon lounging in his room—preferably after a little more sleep—he did not need to be helped. “I cand handle mbyself.”
Lucifer held his hand out, gesturing for the other to continue. “Well then, go ahead and show me that you can even make it up the stairs.”
Alastor let go of the counter and straightened his posture, feeling mostly steady on his feet, though still took some extra effort to convince his body to move. Before he could prove that he was, in fact, healthy enough to walk around without stumbling, his ears raised at the sound of nearby voices. A couple other residents walked through the lobby, headed towards the bar. He didn’t want to even see another person for the rest of the day, and didn’t want anyone else seeing the pitiful condition he was in, either. “Fide,” he grumbled under his breath, stepping through the portal and into his room.
Lucifer followed, closing the portal behind himself. Alastor raised an eyebrow while wiping at his nose. “What are you—”
The other man conjured up a digital thermometer in his hand. “Here,” he said, rather reluctantly handing it over, as if he wasn’t the one who had voluntarily chosen to follow him. Alastor was just about as reluctant to turn it on and place it in his mouth, sitting on the edge of his bed while he waited. Once the thermometer beeped, he checked the reading, his smile stretching into a scowl as he shifted his gaze away. That explained the occasional shivering. Lucifer didn’t even ask before grabbing it from him. It read 100.8°F. “Only a low fever, but you still probably shouldn’t be going anywhere.”
Alastor refused to look at him as he slid his shoes off and laid down. “Leave.” He spared himself the pain of saying more than he needed to. While his illness had worsened fairly quickly since that morning, he still did not need to be looked after, much less by someone like him.
“Hmm… no—I still need to rub it in your face that you did need my help, because you’re apparently hopeless at taking care of yourself.”
“I did ndot,” he mumbled, pulling the covers over himself.
“Suuure, you totally weren’t swaying on your feet back there. Y’know, it would’ve been pretty funny to watch you keep running yourself into the ground, but I decided to be nice, just this once. It was worth seeing how pathetic you look right now.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, too close for Alastor’s liking.
The sinner shot him a withering glare as he sat up, his pupils flickering to radio dials. Staticky feedback buzzed through the air around him—and something else was buzzing within his nasal passages. The insults he was about to throw out died on his tongue, his anger melting away as he surrendered to a shaky inhale. “H-Hh’IDTZH-huh— Snff…” He was moving too slowly to properly cover his mouth, and simply sneezed down onto the blankets. Pulling out his handkerchief, he lightly blew his nose before lying back down. “If you’re ndot goi’g to be useful, thed get out.”
Lucifer was obviously very amused by his misery. “Aww, is someone too sick to fight back? You’re much more tolerable when you’re quiet—” The King suddenly yelped as a shadowy tentacle rose from the floor and shoved him off the bed with one swing. He hit the floorboards with a soft thud, readjusting his hat as he got back up. “Not sick enough to stop being annoying, I guess,” he huffed. The tendril of demonic magic slithered closer, ominously looming over him as Alastor pulled the covers up further. “Yeah, yeah, you want me to leave, I got it. But first,” he snapped his fingers, and a box of tissues appeared on the bedside table, “I think you’re gonna need these. Get some rest, Rudolph.” Another portal opened behind him, and he disappeared through it.
Alastor let out a hoarse sigh now that he was alone. He’d come up with a way to get back at Lucifer once he was feeling better. The man did a fine job of making a fool of himself all on his own—there would be plenty of chances to humiliate him, and likely in front of the entire hotel, too. For now, he just wanted to enjoy some peace and quiet. He knew one thing for certain: he was not going anywhere tomorrow.
a caretaker using positive reinforcement on a stubborn sickie by calling them good boy/girl when they comply (taking meds, eating food, resting, not stifling their sneezes, etc)
Hi, anon! Sorry for the uh. 6-months-late response 😅 if you (or anyone else) are still interested, here’s some snz ideas for Lu/te from Ha/z/bin!
🤍🩶🖤💛🖤🩶🤍
Sneezes sound harsh and guttural. They tend to wrench their way out of her, sometimes hurting her throat, which annoys her
Unless she’s trying to minimize it and succeeds in doing so, she doubles over with every sneeze—violent motions that befit her
Bad at stifling, just as she finds it difficult to suppress emotions. Her body decides she needs to sneeze? She will. Soon.
Sometimes she really is just too locked in or angry to succumb to sneezing,,, or at least to realize she’s going to and make any preparations like, oh, idk, fucking covering or turning away from people,,, 💀💀💀
Speaking of covering, doesn’t do it much in the best of circumstances lol. Often, she just kinda turns off to the side for a moment, then resumes what she was doing. When she does cover, it’s often into a fist. If she’s really worried about appearances (e.g. because of Ad/am), then she might cover into her shoulder or elbow
Usually doesn’t sneeze more than once at a time unless she’s sick/allergic/etc. When it’s multiple in a row, maybe there’s a tendency for them to progressively escalate in intensity until she’s finally rid of the itch
Sometimes in-between or after sneezes, she might: growl in frustration, groan/grunt, swear, grumble a complaint through gritted teeth (e.g. “sick of this fucking shit” if she’s been sneezing a lot that day), steady herself against a wall/desk/chair and possibly dig her claws into it out of aggravation, etc.
Around Ad/am, she tends to try to avoid showing any signs of weakness because 1) she admires him so much and wants to present herself well to him and 2) he’s an asshole who will mock her about it or act overly disgusted lol. She tries to hold back and stifle around him, as well as when around the other exorcists—she can’t let anything undermine her authority over them. Humiliated if she fails
When feverish enough, though, she does crave Ad/am’s presence or reminders of him. If he says/does anything sweet (by VERY RELATIVE STANDARDS) to ensure she feels better or isn’t bothered by anyone else, even if it’s a small thing, it means so much to her and melts her stone heart a little
Awwww the image of her really sick with a bad fever curled up in her own wings maybe for warmth, maybe for comfort, OR maybe to hide herself from the eyes of others present
In general, gets really pissed off about dealing with illness or allergies lol. It’s embarrassing and inconvenient to be Weak, so she’s extra bristly and ready to throw hands with anyone, especially if they make the mistake of asking if she’s okay, expressing concern for her, or otherwise commenting on her current state (Ab/el, Em/ily, and Pet/er better keep their mouths shut, the poor sweeties 😭🥺)
Never ever excuses herself or apologizes for sneezing/showing symptoms, unless Ad/am is being a dick about it (“sorry, sir” or “excuse me, sir”)
Cruel about anyone else other than Ad/am showing any signs of weakness or vulnerability, including symptoms of allergies or illnesses
However, she would try to take care of Ad/am as much as he permitted her to. If he’s whining and ordering her around to pamper him? She complies, though might be a little annoyed sometimes. If he’s stubbornly ignoring it and doesn’t want anyone to comment, then she tries to keep everyone in line and ensure they don’t bother him. Guard dog! She cares about him 🥺 though she knows he’ll be Fine because he’s so strong and kinda infallible in her eyes
Might run herself into the ground enough after Ad/am’s death to work herself into getting really, really sick. Those hallucinations in s2e2? Yeahhhh, high fever’s not gonna help with that tendency… And she still refuses anyone’s help :(
Could be allergic to some Hell flora and/or fauna, which would be very embarrassing to find out during an extermination when she’s trying to be a fearsome second-in-command of the exorcist army. Something very cute about Scary Intense Warrior being vulnerable to a delicate little flower or cute fluffy animal,,, she’d deny the fuck out of it though ofc and probably destroy some of what’s bothering her
Immune system also wouldn’t be used to Hell viruses either, and she has little resistance to them. She feels extra Unclean, Violated, and Slighted by suffering from a virus from down there smth smth looks down on Hell and its inhabitants so much that their germs feel extra Dirty and Repulsive to her
I’d like to imagine that maybe her immune system is as much of a fighter as she is. Doesn’t get sick often, and when she does it’s BAD but over with faster. Her body treats allergens with the same intense offensive response that she gives to real threats
When sick, she’s prone to violent, hacking coughing fits, and between those and the aforementioned guttural sneezes, her throat ends up in fucking tatters. Yelling does her no favors and may make her actually lose her voice, which only pisses her off more. High spiking fevers. Still doesn’t cover all the time, and only uses tissues to blow her nose when she needs to Now to either stop her nose from running visibly or to sound less congested when speaking. Refuses to rest or slow down
subject zero in the not-so-ethical alien study on human pathology who keeps stubbornly covering around the well ones to spite the captors. wait why are they writing this down.
slightly spicy murdermedia (in an au where segregated bathrooms didn't exist)
Alastor has to go to a fancy radio/industry function even though he's unwell. Vincent has to go too, but they don't go together. Anyway, by now Vincent has picked up on all of Al's little tells that no one else notices and follows him to the bathroom to check on him. He corners Al in a stall while Al's trying to discreetly blow his nose. Al halfheartedly hisses about him being a pervert as Vincent crowds closer.
"Why didn't you tell me you were sick?" he murmurs, brushing aside Al's curls that hang across his forehead to press his lips against the warm skin.
"I'm under no obligations to consult with you about my health," grumbles Al, instead of insisting that he's actually fine and that Vincent should get away from him.
"Let me take you home," Vincent says, voice low even though there's no one else in the bathroom. "We can pick up soup from the diner. I'll tuck you into bed. Get out a big stack of the extra soft handkerchiefs. Rub your feet with camphor and cover them with your thickest socks."
It sounds... not unreasonable, but Alastor still find it terribly obscene. Possibly because Vincent is very softly humping Alastor's thigh as he whispers his plans in Alastor's ear.
Instead of kneeing him in the groin for practically molesting him in public, Al agrees to leave the function early so that Vincent can have his caring way with him.
