#general sickness

[itchyandtwitchy]

And if my next little fic was I/lya sick at a hockey awards show, what then?

Sweating out a fever in a tux, sniffly and so SO sneezy, trying to ignore S/hane's worried texts from across the room, forgetting English phrases and saying away from conversation, using the wine bottles to rest his head against, falling back into old stifling habits which only makes him worse, lights making his headache 1000 times worse, any food he's served making him vaguely nauseous

[emeto-secret-agent]

Why I think B.elphegor from O.bey m.e is into whump/has an illness kink

-by a B.elphie fan with illness kinks

Let me take care of you

This man has so much fun taking care of MC and just look at him blushing and smiling after taking the temperature, also the way he puts a hand on his own forehead for comparison - and yes I know it could mean nothing but I like this little detail - could mean that he has experience with fevers.

He has calculated in that he could (will) get sick and is almost anticipating it - and direct contagion from the kiss?? Also look at his smug face he knows what he is doing

Here we have two options: we could say we feel better or say that we still feel sick

For the first option (like in the picture) he smiles and agrees with us, confirming that we're better

But for the second one, if we say we're still sick, he agrees with that too!

Let's say, this is one situation and our condition's the same in both options, just we can choose to say different things. In this set up he's literally playing on our symptoms with us! And he's enjoying it. And I can't find any vanilla reason for him to 'pretend' that we're still sick if he's not enjoying it too.

Also look at his smug face part 2

Then he states that we're the only ones he'd take care of like this, meaning, that it's not just some act of kindness, this is something special for him, that he'd only share with us. And yes, it could simply mean he loves us, but still. It's not just some taking care of MC moment, he followed us through the day in RAD and checked our fever constantly, there's tension

And he made us a freacking soup, what kind of sickfic plot is this

2. Sleep is the best medicine

(sorry for the big picture this the best I could find)

So he literally has a whole set of cards with the name 'Sleep is the best medicine'

These cards always tell us something about the brothers, something that is connected to them or describes them, so why does B.elphie has this? It has to be somehow important to him, maybe a catchphrase? Or a way of thinking? Could it mean he gets sick easily and his solution for it is sleeping (which he also said to MC in the first card)? We may never find the answer but this card is telling us something and I'd like to think it's something deep for B.elphie

That's for it today darlings and please keep in mind that these are only headcanons and nothing here stated is canon, just my mind playing with our favorite demon. The list will probably flare as I move with the story but until then feel free to make additions yourself!

[sketchyallstar]

Two little doodles I did while I was supposed to be doing school work

[itchyandtwitchy]

The universe might actually be out to get me and trap me in a never-ending snzfic. Genuinely, what is my life? I wouldn't trade it because oh wow, but this is torture from some divine being.

There's this guy that I've been seeing on and off for maybe a year now, and he caught a cold over the weekend. Of course, like a good lover, Ive been over at his apartment a lot. We decided to watch a movie last night and I was laying on his shoulder, only half awake. Hes been sniffling and turning to cough into his shoulder without making me move the whole time, so I dont really think about it when he shifts over. Except, EXCEPT, he says 'I kind of need to sneeze, but I dont want to move you if youre comfortable'. Guess I'll just go walk into the fiery volcano and let it consume me, thats fine.

When I move to get off of him so he can sneeze if he needs to, he pouts at me and gives me a whole speech to come back. Talk about mixed signals, but Im also dying in the background. He pauses halfway through and pinches his nose to stifle a sneeze, which never works for him. The next second, hes turning away from me to ACTUALLY sneeze into his elbow and casually goes back to talking.

I am not the strongest soldier, this WILL kill me, someone take me out before I explode.

[itchyandtwitchy]

*slides in* ok I am ALWAYS up for sick Vik/tor but if you're not in a fic writing mood I'll take anything on Russian Prof or Husband 8Db

Sick V/iktor can definitely be in the works *evil laugh*. If you have specific tropes you want to see, throw them out! Or else yall getting what I want. Now, I think its only fair that I relay my information on Professor and Husband.

Snz obs under cut

It's true, Professor is sick (again), and decided to overwork himself to needing to be pulled out of class by Husband (also again). This occurred a few days before our Autumn break, when we really weren't doing much other than analyzing movies. Looking back, we probably weren't doing much because Professor was falling ill and didnt have the energy. Anyway, I remember walking into the hall and Husband already sitting in the back (which isnt unusual). What WAS unusual was Professor coming in late, apologizing as he quickly opened his laptop, turned on a movie, and slumped onto his desk.

Its not normal for Professor to be late, he also loves to talk so getting no preamble to this movie was extremely weird. I didnt even really realize that he was sick (other classes stole my ability of perception) until he leaned his head back, pinched a tissue over his nose, and just...stayed there. After maybe ten minutes, I was almost certain he had passed onto the next life. He was, in fact, alive, because he sat back up to stifle three sneezes before dropping back. You could tell he sat up to sneeze since the force of stifling them almost made him hit his head on the desk.

This is what I like to call 'ailing Victorian child' level of drama, and anyone acquainted with an Eastern European knows it. All the while, Husband is in the back doing his observation routine and looking incredibly sour about it. Though, once Professor sneezed once, he would keep sitting up to stifle every three minutes or so. The fits kept becoming longer, like at first he sneezed three times, then five, then a few more, then a few more. By the time we were a half hour into the film, Professor sat up again to start coughing up a lung. He apologized and left the room (the walls are very thin, everyone could hear him blowing his nose and coughing even more).

Suffice to say, he did not return to the room. Husband walked down the aisle, unplugged his computer, and left the room. After which, I can only assume he dragged Professor home without a word to us.

Im sorry I havent been posting much, its a hectic time for me both academically and in every other aspect of my life. I do have one or two more instances (one of Professor, one of Husband) that need to be given out to those who like these. Unfortunately, I do only have two more weeks with Professor before my time is spent solely with Husband and my Master's thesis. There are so many other unfinished fics in my drive right now that Im preparing to go out. I promise, I have not abandoned you!

[itchyandtwitchy]

So I submitted my (basically) final draft for review a few days go. I also got a phone call a few days ago that I believe will be very entertaining to this corner of Tumblweed.

Obs under cut-

This was probably like...a week ago. (IM SO SORRY)

Anyway, I get a phonecall from Husband and it starts out very normal; it's just discussion, tips, the boring stuff. Until he pauses and goes 'Professor just returned home, pardon his noise level'. What are you talking about? I havent had a single class where the noise of that man exceeded a very normal speaking tone.

So Im confused but I continue talking and taking notes and being the picture of Academia that I am. Until I hear footsteps and shuffling on the other side of the phone and Husband goes 'Ah, hes here' like the Boogie Man just walked in. Then suddenly Professor sneezes so loud that I actually jump since I'm so used to him stifling. Not just one or two, but he sneezes full force three times and Husband yells 'Im on the phone! Control your outbursts!'.

Now, obviously I cant see on a phonecall, but my guess is that Professor walked into Husband's office or where he was calling to sit with him. I could hear him stifling sneezes the whole time, and Husband would mute right after so I cant say what happened. Though Im sure each of us has a guess.

[itchyandtwitchy]

Saw your tags on your wav and Professor is sick already? I say this like I'm shocked and I'm obviously not XD How is Husband coping?

Im afraid Ive been holding out on everyone with Professor and Husband stories. They have all been written down! But Im trying not to burn out and crash out within the first month of this semester....

Anyway! Obs under cut (and I promise more soon)

So I went to work with Husband, and I guess from my voice he could tell that I was sick. Which is obviously when he started plotting, because the second Professor walked in (sniffling and looking exhausted) he already had jokes planned out.

These two never leave each other alone (I know I've sais it before but seriously). Professor was just trying to heat up food and take some Nyquill but got a roast battle from his husband. As much as they tease, once Professor sat down to eat, Husband asked him 'do you need meds', 'do we have tissues', 'how do you feel' etc.

My cold didnt last very long, it's mostly over now, but it obviously hit Professor worse. He went through two boxes of tissues between three classes in one day. There was a day where he simply refused to use the chalkboard and blamed it on 'being too stuffed up to deal with more sneezing'.

Husband was very stoic though, he sat in the back and just observed, putting new tissues on Professor's desk between classes. Both of them ended up taking a day off near the end of Professor's cold too.

[itchyandtwitchy]

Its me; the insufferable writer infesting your media.

Day 2 of sicktember- forced to work while ill

B/ungo S/tray D/ogs

Of all the things you shouldn’t say to the leader of the most powerful mafia in Yokohama, ‘no’ is probably at the top of the list. Over the years, his executives have learned when to take matters into their own hands to avoid bothering him. One of those matters being sickness. Considering Mori’s past as a ‘doctor’, most don’t bother complaining about even the slightest headache in front of their boss. Except, it’s isn’t just a headache that plagues his top executive that fine morning in July.

Chuuya gingerly massages his throat as he glares down at the writing hes been trying to read for the past half hour. His mind feels like its been smothered by butter, and none of these scribbles make sense. Part of him really wants to go chew out whoever wrote this report, but the other half wants to lay on his couch and pass out. For the sake of his throat as much as his job, he decides to just glare at the words some more.

Something, something, captive, more scribbles, Gods, his head hurts, something about detainment. Chuuya sluggishly reaches into his box of tissues, pulling away with a groan when his fingers brush cardboard. What the hell now? He tosses the box into the trash, which promptly bounces out of. There's already too many wads of tissues overflowing there for it to land. Laying his head in his hands, Chuuya closes his eyes and bites back what is surely a pathetic sound. Maybe this is his nose's way of complaining about the rough treatment its been subject to all week.

Truly though, Chuuya hasn't felt this bad in a very long time, not since he became an executive. Which only serves to make matters worse; considering his station, he cant show any particular weakness. Germs have never been a friend of Chuuya's, hes always gotten sick easily. Except now, it all seems to have settled achingly in his face and chest. Sniffling thickly, he pinches the bridge of his nose for a moment before staring back down at his reports. A swift knock on the door cuts through his haze of wriggling lines and increasingly futile sniffles.

“Come in!” Fuck, his voice is wrecked, he clears it a few times as the doorknob turns to little avail. Akutagawa slips inside with his usual air of whatever the hell that kid has going on, Chuuya will never grasp it. He mumbles something that doesn't quite translate through the congestion making Chuuya's ears pound. “Quit mumbling, damn it.” Though the reprimand comes out marred and more like a cough than he'd like. The use of his voice actually does make him cough, forcing him to spin towards his elbow in his swivel chair.

“I was told to give a verbal report.” Akutagawa emphasizes each word once Chuuya has turned back around, throat considerably more painful.

“Get on with it, then.” Verbal reports were so rare, of course Mori would assign one to him when he felt like this. He wrinkled his nose as Akutagawa spoke in that low drawl of his; at the very least, it seemed to soothe Chuuya's headache. Sniffling softly, he pressed the back of his wrist to his nose, nodding along with Akutagawa even as his eyes fluttered shut. “Hh’SCHht’huw.” Chuuya ducked down against his wrist, immediately mourning the loss of his tissues. “Hh'eSSHh’euh. Merde, snrf, ugh, keep going.” Waving the hand that wasn't kept pressed against his nose, he urged the younger mafioso on. Akutagawa peered at him with mild unease- at his evident illness or with genuine concern, it was impossible to know- but stuttered back into his report.

Apparently, Mori had been sending out the most unintelligible posts lately, because Akutagawa's report made as much sense as the written one. Something about a fight in a warehouse? The were-tiger? Oh, now he was rambling. Chuuya meant to cut him off the tangent by clearing his throat, but the action turned into a fit of hacks that burnt his chest. This time, Akutagawa only paused for a moment before continuing; not one to be told anything twice. Chuuya wearily crossed his arms on his desk, sniffling in a vain attempt at clearing some congestion. “Huh’SCHtt’hhuw!! H-hih— huh!! hESHH’huw!!” There was already an outstretched kerchief as he lifted his head and shuffled pitifully.

Weren't Gods supposed to be invulnerable? What the hell? He grouped out a blunt ‘thangks’ and turned to blow his nose. That's a generous term really, the gurgling noise he made was as far from dignified as possible. “Should I call Dazai?” Akutagawa asked slowly, almost warily, as if Chuuya had the energy to scold him for asking such a thing right now.

“And tell Koyo I'll be missing our tea tomorrow.” Chuuya huffed, not at all pleased as Akutagawa nodded and slipped from the room. He ran his fingers across the cold metal band on his thumb, already steeling himself for Dazai's idea of ‘coddling’.