#Prompt: Side effect/adverse reaction

[fandom-happy]

Sicktember 2023 - Day 29: Side effect/adverse reaction

Summary: Jaskier’s luck with putting random stuff in his mouth runs out and scares the hell out of Geralt.

#My fic #The Witcher #Jaskier #Geralt of Rivia #Yennifer of Vengerberg #Milva/Maria Barring #Sick Jaskier #Sicktember 2023 #Prompt: Side effect/adverse reaction #Sickfic #Vomiting tw #Hurt/Comfort

[sicktember]

Official Sicktember 2023 Prompt List!

[Faqs Post]

[How to Submit Content Post]

[2023 Sicktember Collection on AO3]

[2023 Content Promotion Changes]

** Please remember to read the FAQs before asking event related questions**

[text version of the prompt list below the cut]

Prompts:

1. Hopelessly Bad at Self-Care

2. Quest for a Cure

3. "What happened to your phenomenal immune system, huh?"

4. Hiding an Illness

5. Preventative Measures (Not Taken)

6. Sick and Injured

7. “You’re a Jerk When You’re Sick”

8. Persistent Fever

9. White Coat Syndrome

10. “The only place we’re going is to the pharmacy”

11. Beginner’s Guide to Faking Sick

12. Old Wives Tale

13. Anxious Stomach

14. ‘‘I shouldn’t be worried about you, but for some reason I am’’

15. Sick in an Inconvenient Place

16. Consulting the Internet/Web MD

17. Magical Remedy/Healing Potion

18. “Wear Your Coat, You’ll Catch a Cold”

19. Curled Up With a Pet

20. Cramping Pain

21. "But if you stay, you'll get sick too"

22. Terms of Endearment/Nicknames

23. Coughing Fit

24. “Did you just sneeze?”

25. Confused/Disoriented

26. Pink Eye/Conjunctivitis

27. Uncooperative Patient

28. “I should have stayed home”

29. Side Effects/Adverse Reaction

30. Patient 0

Alts.

“I Could Really Use a Hug Right About Now”

Fuzzy Socks

Pounding Headache

Forehead Kisses

“I’m so sorry”

#sicktember #sicktember 2023 #all fandom event #sickfic prompts #writing prompts #prompt event #writing event #30 days of prompts #fanfiction #sick characters #caretakers #hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort prompt #sicknario #sick pompts #sick character #whump hurt/comfort #sneeze prompt #cough prompt #nausea prompt #whump tropes #whump event #headache pompt #soft caretaker

[woso-fan13]

Sicktember 2023: 29 (Barca/ENGWNT)

Side Effects/Adverse Reaction

Lucy and Kiera should have known that it was too easy. You had been sick for over a week, what they had thought was a cold you had picked up from a teammate. And, while they hated seeing their baby sick, they had been treating you constantly with meds and fluids. 

But you had continued getting worse, and your quick, shallow breathing prompted your mums to get you some professional help. After tears, bribery, and countless tests, you got an official diagnosis- pneumonia- and an antibiotic. 

Your mama, Kiera, had you snuggled into her on the sofa, a calming cartoon playing in the dim living room. Her hand was working slowly up and down your back, soothing you. She could feel the fever burning through your little body, racking you with chills. You were roughly wrapped in a thin sheet, your mums hoping that the pressure would calm you. Occasionally, you would break into a coughing fit, the sound reminiscent of your lungs trying to leave your body. Mama would shush you, pressing kisses to your hair and moving her hand quicker on your back. 

The process repeated several times before Mummy, Lucy, entered the room. She had a bottle in one hand, the other hand holding an odd looking pacifier. You were too sick to notice what she had, only noticing her presence when she pulled you into her own arms. You cried out softly at the change, but settled into your Mummy’s embrace easily. 

She stuck a pacifier into your mouth and you began suckling. Your eyes were closed- too sleepy to keep them open- so you didn’t notice as she attached a syringe to the pacifier. You only reacted when she pushed the liquid antibiotics into your mouth, the sensation causing you to open your eyes slightly. Your mums could see the confusion and fever daze in your eyes as you uncoordinatedly moved your tongue. To stop you from being able to work the medication out, your Mummy quickly pulled the funny pacifier out of your mouth and replaced it with a bottle. 

“You want your baba, huh darling?” she asks, the only response is your continued eating, “such a good girl.”

The bottle tastes different than usual, your mothers using high calorie formula in hopes of replacing everything that you had refused to eat while sick. It was sweeter, the milk thick and heavy on your tongue. 

As you near the halfway point, Mama uses her fingers to gently trace over your eyebrows and down the bridge of your nose. This, particularly when combined with a bottle, was a sure fire way to put you into a deep sleep. 

—-

You woke up in the early morning, the world still dark outside your window. You felt slightly better than the previous night, able to take deeper breaths and, although you didn’t know it, your lungs were less congested. The only problem was the hot, itchy feeling. 

You scrubbed your hands against your skin, crying out in distress. Your mums had been sleeping especially lightly this week, and were in your room within a minute. Mummy scooped you out of your crib, yawning as she bounces you slightly. 

You don’t calm down, though, your irritation and crying growing as Mummy’s hands cause your pajamas to rub on your sensitive skin. You eventually feel yourself lowered to your changing table, your mum’s trying to figure out what the problem could be. 

When they unzipped your pajamas, they instantly knew. Hives spread across your chest and stomach, more surely hidden by the rest of your clothing. The cool night air felt nice on them, and when Mama rested her cold hand on your belly, you sighed at the relief it brought to your hot, itchy skin. 

The next hour was a version of a well practiced dance, Mama swaying with you and talking gently to keep you calm while Mummy ran you a bath. You whined and squirmed when you were initially placed in the tub, the water cold and cloudy. Your mums calmed you, sticking a pacifier in as they trickled the oatmeal-infused bath water down you. 

Mummy scooped you out, wrapping you gently in a towel while Mama got everything ready. As they began putting clothes on you, though, you became agitated again as the fabric rubbed on your skin. Lucy and Kiera pulled the clothes off, not wanting to cause you anything further discomfort. 

With you only in your diaper, they spread cream over the hives, soothing the itch further. You had calmed by this point, left only hiccuping. You were lulled closer to sleep as your mums’ hands rubbed the cool cream into every inch of your body. 

You were pulled from your near sleep state as you felt yourself laid down. You recognized the smell of the fabric, clearly you were in your mums’ bed. The two women had settled on either side of you, all three of you ready to sleep as they noticed the sun just beginning to rise outside. 

You wiggled, silently asking one of your mothers to hold you. You much preferred sleeping on one of them to sleeping on a mattress. Mummy pulled you on top of her, allowing you to settle in. 

You begin getting worked up again at this point, moving on top of Lucy. You pull at her shirt, trying to move the material that is causing you so much distress. 

Discovering the cause of your discomfort, Mummy manages to remove her nightshirt without displacing you and tosses it to the floor. Now, you rest your head on her bare chest and breathe deeply. You were the most comfortable you had been in over a week. 

Mama pulls a thin blanket over the two of you, watching your movement closely. When she sees the slightest hint that the fabric was upsetting you, she removes it. 

The ceiling fan was on high, the cool breeze calming your skin as the quiet talking of your mums pulled you closer to sleep. 

#woso imagines #woso x reader #reader insert #womens soccer #woso imagine #woso #woso fanfics #woso soccer #woso community #engwnt #barca femeni #barca #kiera walsh #lucy bronze #lionesses #lionesses x reader

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Side Sickness

Prompt: Side Effects/Adverse Reaction

Pairings: Wandanat x R

Word count: 900

Summary: after getting shot you have an odd reaction to the anaesthesia

TW: vomiting, medical drugs, getting shot (mentions), surgery

It was suppose to be a simple mission. But here you were lying on the bed in the medical wing of the compound, with a bullet in your leg. Bruce had said it was too deep to just remove so you were being prepped for surgery. you had asked Bruce to wait to tell your girls until he knew you would be fine, not wanting to worry them.

“ready y/n/n?” he asked.

you nodded, still in too much pain to talk. he placed the mask down on your face, instructing you to count back from ten. you had barely hit eight when the darkness took over.

It was about an hour later you started to come to. the first thing that registered in your very fuzzy brain was the feeling of fingers carding through your hair. long nails running over your scalp in a way that made you want to go back to sleep. two voices chatted lively before going silent. upon opening your eyes, the bright lights seemed to make you nauseous,. quickly you shut them again. but nat noticed.

“Y/n/n? you with us baby?” nat asked, and you felt the fingers stop to tease a small knot out of your hair. you merely groaned. making Wanda chuckle.

“mm don’t feel good.” you whined. nat frowned and Wanda made some motion with her hand that sent nat to get bruce.

a moment later you heard the footsteps return and bruce folding his glasses.

“Y/n? Natasha says you don’t feel good.” you nodded, swallowing the nausea that built with the dizziness of the action. “can you tell me where it hurts, i thought i got the dosage correct for the pain meds but maybe you lost some weight?”

“‘m not sick.” you whined. Making both girls frown, you only ever acted like this when you felt ill. Wanda noticed the shift in the pallor of your skin before nat or bruce, probably because she was closest. quickly she reached behind her to grab a sick bag as you threw up into it. one hand held the bag to your chin and the other ran circles on your back. you coughed spitting the foul taste into the bag before flopping back and placing an arm over your eyes.

“is that… is that suppose to happen?” nat asked as Wanda threw away the sick bag and grabbed another just in case.

“its not common but it can happen as a side effect of the anaesthesia . Keep an eye on her and if it happens again come get me. just a warning the drugs might make her a bit … loopy.”

“loopy how?” nat asked as bruce scurried away. “BRUCE LOOPY HOW?” she yelled, making you wince.

“headache bubs?” Wanda asked, going back to stroking back your hair.

“mmmm.” you agreed. “tell nat to make less wiggly air.”

“what?” Wanda asked.

“sound waves are just wiggly air and nattys being too loud, for the brain. ‘s makin’ it angry.” you slurred

“sorry baby.” nat sighed kissing your knuckles. Wanda waved her hand and used her magic to lower the lights, and carefully peeled back your arm from your eyes.

“can i see those pretty eyes baby girl?”

you grinned opening you eyes wide to stare at Wanda. nat laughed as you relaxed again and flopped back.

“ow.” you frowned.

“what hurts baby?” nat asked

“my life.” you shrugged.

“ok.” Wanda smiled, as nat looked confused.

“‘m sleepy”

“you can rest now bubs.” Wanda cooed ignoring nats open mouth to protest. “we’ll be right here the whole time.”

the next time you opened you eyes the nausea was back. Wanda paused her conversation with nat, each girl sat on either side of your bed in the med bay.

“y/n/n? you ok?” nat frowned, motioning to Wanda to get the sick bag just incase.

“gonna be sick.” you cried, sitting up straight, almost vomiting into you lap if it weren’t for Wanda’s quick reaction to slide the sickbag back under your chin to catch it.

“shh its ok baby. your ok.” nat cooed, rubbing your back. slightly more lucid this time tears flowed over your cheeks. you spat again and leaned back gingerly to avoid aggravating your leg.

“are you feeling better now?” Wanda asked. you shot a weak thumbs up and closed your eyes again.

“I’m going to tell bruce you were sick again.” nat replied. leaving the room to find him. after a few minutes of Wanda getting rid of the bag again she sat back by your side. running her hands through your hair again.

“it’ll be ok y/n/n your doing so good for us.” you hadn’t realised the tear were still flowing but you made not move to stop them.

“never let me get shot again.” you muttered.

“Baby i wasn’t even with you this time.” she chuckled slightly.

“don’t leave me again.” you whined.

“I didn’t plan on it ever again my sweet. never again.” she kissed your forehead and you let sleep take over again still feeling felt and exhausted down to your bones.

MASTERLIST

#marvel #the avengers #wanda maximoff #wandanat #natasha romanov #marvel sickfic #vomiting #wanda x natasha #wanda x y/n #wanda comfort #natasha x y/n #natasha comfort #hurt/comfort #fanfiction #side effects #wandanat x r #wandanat sic fic #wandanat comfort #bruce banner #the hulk #surgery #getting shot

[somber-sapphic]

Sicktember Prompts!

Hello all! Many of you know that Sicktember is coming up and I plan to write for it! Please send me in your ideas for parings and I will do my best to keep everyone happy (as well as including a few of my own). Paring's that I personally chose will be yellow others will be in pink :)

Just a heads up that I will be switching out some with the alt. prompts provided, I will make those ones green. Please send in your paring's with specific sickies!!

original prompt list

Prompts:

1. Hopelessly Bad at Self-Care - WandaNat x Reader, Sick Nat and Reader

2. Quest for a Cure - Sick Natasha x Reader

3. "What happened to your phenomenal immune system, huh?" - Sick Lena x Reader

4. Hiding an Illness - Wandanat x Sick Reader

5. Preventative Measures (Not Taken) - Wandanat x Sick Reader

6. Sick and Injured - Wandanat x Reader, Sick Wanda

7. “You’re a Jerk When You’re Sick” - JJ x Sick Emily

8. Persistent Fever - Natasha x Sick Reader

9. White Coat Syndrome - Carina x Sick Reader

10. “The only place we’re going is to the pharmacy” - Wanda x Sick Reader

11. Beginner’s Guide to Faking Sick - Natasha x Sick Reader

12. Fuzzy Socks - Kara x Sick Lena

13. “I’m so sorry” - Wandanat x Sick Reader

14. ‘‘I shouldn’t be worried about you, but for some reason I am’’ - Wanda x Sick Natasha

15. Sick in an Inconvenient Place - Jemily x Reader, Sick Reader

16. Consulting the Internet/Web MD - Wandanat x Sick Reader

17. Magical Remedy/Healing Potion - Natasha x Sick Reader

18. “Wear Your Coat, You’ll Catch a Cold” - Sick Natasha x Reader

19. Curled Up With a Pet - Calzona, Sick Callie

20. Cramping Pain - Wandanat x Reader, Sick Nat

21. "But if you stay, you'll get sick too" - Wandanat x Sick Reader

22. Terms of Endearment/Nicknames - Natasha x Sick Reader

23. Coughing Fit - Natasha x Sick Wanda

24. “Did you just sneeze?” - Yelena x Sick Reader

25. Confused/Disoriented - Wandanat x Sick Reader

26. “I Could Really Use a Hug Right About Now” - Sick Wanda x Reader

27. Uncooperative Patient - Marina x Reader, Sick Carina

28. “I should have stayed home” - Sick Natasha x Reader

29. Side Effects/Adverse Reaction - Wandanat x Sick Natasha

30. Patient 0 - Open!!

HUUUUGEEE thanks to @sicktember for these amazing prompts!!

#sickfic #fanfiction #sick fanfiction #sicktember #sicktember 2023 #sicktember pairings #be specific #or else

[dutifullyshamelessearthquake]

For the prompt list! I could totally see number 29 working for a sick cyno and tighnari. Some sort of cure he has whipped up for something minor causing cyno to have a real bad time by mistake maybe?

(late) Sicktember Prompt; "Side Effect/Adverse Reaction"

I'm sorry it's been such a long wait since I posted anything, but here I am finally with a new fic for you guys! And there's more to come in the not-so-distant future!

#earthquake author's note #sickfic #genshin sickfic #genshin emeto #emeto #nausea #emeto fic #sick cyno

[ethereousdelirious]

4 prompts left on Sicktember and I'm running out of steam 😭😭😭

Hesitantly taking character/pairing suggestions for prompts 27-29 if you got em

For reference:

27. Uncooperative patient

28. "I should have stayed home"

29. Side effects/adverse reaction

Or you know. If anyone wants to be a superhero and hand me 3 extremely detailed fic plots on a silver platter 🙈🥴

#thankfully i stumbled into idea for day 30 on my own but man im getting TIRED #sicktemberposting 2023

[revelationschapter6]

cinnamon and myrrh

Events: Sicktember, Whumptember, Bad Things Happen Bingo

Prompts:

Desperate measures

Head lolling

Coughing fit

Preventative Measures (Not taken)

Side effects/Adverse reaction

Uncooperative Patient

Confused

Disoriented

Hurts to Breathe

Warnings:

implications of depression

This fill is written as a one-shot of my original story, Saudade. You can find my info page for Saudade here.

What context you need to read this is:

In Saudade, the Archangel Raphael Fell during the Rebellion. It was a misunderstanding that spiraled out of control, and he was thrown out by four angels while his partner, the Power Camael, tried to help him.

The angels who didn't Fall were made to forget those who did. They don't remember they ever knew them. As far as they know, all the Fallen were on the fringes of Heaven's society. If they asked around, they might go, "Wait, no one knew a Fallen?" But they Don't Ask Questions.

Raphael worked to gain Camael's trust again, and eventually won it. Camael learned he did, in fact, know Raphael before the Fall by regaining a memory, and convinced Raphael's siblings to hear him out. Now they're trying to figure out WTF to do.

Who, in their right mind, burns myrrh for funsies? Humans, apparently. And in the middle of the holiday season no less, so the smell of it is covered up by the reek of all that damn cinnamon. Raphael really should have learned by now. Whumptember: Desperate measures, head lolling Sicktember: Coughing fit, Preventative Measures (Not Taken), Side Effects/Adverse Reaction, Uncooperative Patient, Confused, Disoriented Bad Things Happen Bingo: hurts to breathe

can be read on AO3 or below the cut

Raphael watched the little blurs that were the light-up battery-powered fish in his fish tank.

When he’d moved into this apartment, he’d thought about getting a cat. But they had such short lifespans compared to his. It just wasn’t worth getting attached. Dogs were the same. Rodents were even worse. It felt like they barely took a breath before dying. It was nearly impossible to find an apartment that would allow a bird, though even they didn’t live terribly long in the span of his life, and he hated turtles.

A hellish animal might have been an option, but he didn’t like any of them. Hellcats, with their too many tails, disturbed him greatly and brought to mind Kitsune, who he didn’t want to think of as he cleaned a litter box. (Their litter boxes had a nasty habit of bursting into flames, besides.) Hellhounds came in every shape and breed of dog, but being around Lilith’s was enough. He didn’t have nearly enough water to keep an ahuizotl, and he already had plenty of nightmares without inviting in a Pesanta.

So, finally, he’d bought a fish tank and some light-up, battery-powered fake fish and been quite happy with them.

Through the poorly insulated walls of his apartment, he could make out general merriment. Carolers on the street, the buzz of countless lights, cheerful voices. Could smell pine from pine trees, burning gingerbread from a few doors down, and tried not to cough at the thickness of cinnamon in the air. It had been strong for days, no matter where he went. Cinnamon brooms lingered on his neighbors’ doorsteps, and it seemed every shop he passed was cluttered with them.

He’d never liked Christmas, not really. Though the Giant Lantern Festival was beautiful, he’d admit that, and he always had fun trying to burn the Gävle Goat. Any Fallen loved Krampusnacht, none more so than Krampus himself. But Christmas was a time for those with friends and family. He might have called Maalik a friend once, but he was long dead. Lilith and Lethe, perhaps, but they were busy doing their own things, and they saw each other only every few decades, besides. He still wasn’t sure if he could call Samyaza a friend.

And he certainly had no family.

He had Camael back, somewhat. But Camael, though he knew now, didn’t remember, surely wasn’t willing to spend a holiday with him. And Gabriel and Michael still looked half-ready to run him through if he sneezed wrong, though they knew too.

So he hadn’t even bothered to ask.

Raphael sighed, trying to tune out the music his neighbors were listening to: the one above him was listening to some caterwauling cover of All I Want for Christmas is You, the one below him Last Christmas, to the right a pop cover of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas (why?), and to the left Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer (again, why?). He could make out the neighbors further down the hall, but it all clashed together into raucous noise.

He rolled over, stretching out on his bed. It smelled far better than the cloying cinnamon. Though lingering sulfur and rain-dampened dirt weren’t exactly appealing either.

It wasn’t Christmas Day or Eve. At least, he didn’t think so.

He couldn’t hear wrapping paper tearing—well, that was a lie. The gender-optional tenant three doors down was wrapping gifts it sounded like—or smell ham or turkey or baking cookies.

Then again, he’d slept for quite a while, so he couldn’t be certain. He’d only gotten up long enough to duck into the corner store and wolf down the taquitos whose wrappers lay crumpled on his nightstand.

Raphael clutched his pillow, curling up. Hell, but he was tired. He’d slept the better part of the last two days, and still, he was exhausted.

So what was the harm in sleeping? It wasn’t as if he’d miss anything.

His phone rang, and he grumbled. Blearily, he thought that he needed to take it into the store to get it looked at because the voice announcing the caller was so muffled that he couldn’t make out what it said. Raphael reached for it, fumbling, but it was out of his reach, and he was still so tired.

If it was important, whoever it was could leave a voicemail.

Someone banged on his door, and he groaned. Did they have to be so loud? He could hear the door rattling in the frame. It was probably someone looking for the man down the hall. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had someone knock on his door by mistake, so he didn’t feel sorry that he didn’t even open his eyes.

There were voices, and he felt he should wake up. Because sleeping while someone was near him was never a good thing, barring a few people. And those weren’t Lethe or Lilith’s voices. He could tell. But his bed was so warm, the blankets so soft and comfortable, so surely he could sleep a few minutes more?

Besides, those voices felt safe. What was the harm?

Hands—cold hands, familiar, rough hands, though who they belonged to escaped him at the moment—grabbed and shook him. He wanted to tell them to let him sleep—even with their hands on him, he felt leaden—but his voice wilted and died in his throat before he could make a sound.

The voice called his name again, and two more hands, rougher and larger, joined the first.

His name was called again, this time by a voice deeper than the one before, and the hands became so rough that his head rolled on his pillow. It was irritating, and he tried again to tell them to leave him be. But his voice died, and his eyelids were so heavy that he couldn’t even glare at them to go away. His breath hitched, as sluggish as the rest of him, and struggled in his throat.

Raphael felt that should have worried him, but he was too comfortable and tired to care.

The hands went away, and he was grateful. Now, surely they’d leave him alone? Whatever they needed couldn’t be that important. It could wait.

Surely, they’d finally let him sleep.

A pair of hands slid under him, separating his head from his pillow and awkwardly gripping the underside of his knees. He shivered as he was torn away from the warmth of his blankets, the cold biting into him worse than the blizzards of Cocytus. A complaint started, then died, in his throat. His head lolled back, his neck arched painfully, and while one arm had been scooped up so it rested on his stomach, the other dangled uncomfortably.

The person carrying him moved jerkily, jolting him violently, even as they rubbed their thumbs along his skin as if to try to warm him. They came to an abrupt stop, and he tried to open his eyes. Some part of him was alarmed when he couldn’t get them to respond, but he was too tired to get anxious.

One hand came up to cradle the back of his head as he was made to stand. Well, stand by the faintest gasp of the word. If it wasn’t for the hand, or the body he was propped against, he surely would have collapsed. His feet tingled differently than usual, more numb than throbbing or sensitive. Even when he tried to make them, his knees wouldn’t support his weight. The person behind him, a sturdy wall, held him carefully upright. Raphael felt he should recognize them, if not from everything else than from their height, his head coming up to their chest from the feel of it as it lolled on his irritatingly unresponsive neck.

The first, smaller pair of hands, fingers slimmer than the ones holding him, tugged off his sweats, boxers, and nightshirt. Some part of him felt he should cover himself, like there was something he needed to hide, that he despised, tried to never let anyone see, and was forgetting.

But that would mean moving, which he didn’t think he could do even if he tried. His arms were so heavy, and was it really so bad if they saw it?

He lost time.

And then he was scalding, dragged beneath a spray of water. He gasped through a barely open mouth, his breath rasping loudly in his throat, then started to cough violently.

Were they trying to drown him?

A heave ran through him as he coughed, desperate for breath he didn’t actually need, feeling as though he were fighting to breathe through wet cloth. One of the hands, the one with the thicker fingers, caught his chin and squeezed the joints of his jaw. He tried to jerk back and felt like he was back in Boston, struggling to wade through molasses. His body wouldn’t listen to him, every moment slow and faltering, a twitch of a movement if he managed to move at all.

"Shit, he’s covered in it."

Raphael retched as a wet finger pressed down on his tongue, sweeping along his throat. It was a horrible feeling, but when the finger drew out, he could finally breathe. He coughed harshly, gulping air down greedily.

His fingers twitched, and the hand on the back of his head tightened in his hair to keep him from doubling over. He could taste rotten sulfur, his throat stinging as he struggled to get his coughing under control. There wasn’t an inch of his skin that hadn’t begun to tingle unpleasantly, bordering on a faint burn.

The smaller set of hands left his skin, replaced a moment later by a washcloth. The tingling quickly built to a burn, and as energy began to return to his limbs, he struggled weakly. Being pinned had never resulted in anything good, and slowly awareness was filtering to him; he shouldn’t be so confused and so tired; he should have been wide awake long before they’d made it into his apartment. He’d never known the touch of holy water, but having water flow over his body just before he began to burn did not bode well.

The arms tightened around him, and a familiar voice grunted as he managed to brace one foot on the slippery tile and drive the heel of the other into the shin of the person behind him.

"Stop fighting us, dammit!"

Wait—he did know that voice. Now that it didn’t sound so far away, so muffled, he did know that voice. And those hands felt familiar, as did the body behind him. And now, with the insulated walls of the shower between him and that awful, seeping cinnamon scent, he could make out the strong bite of petrichor.

He forced his eyes open, though they were very reluctant. His vision swam, eyes stinging, and they’d only open a slit. But even through a film of silver tears, he’d know that angel anywhere. She was too close for him to make out her features, but even darkened and flattened to her scalp by water, that red hair was unmistakeable.

"M’ch’l?" His tongue was slow, heavy, and unresponsive in his mouth. Just that word, if you could call it a word, made him cough again, tearing at his throat. He whimpered, and the angel behind him held him up when the force of it tried to bend him over. Ichor sprayed, foul and thick, across his tongue. Before he could do anything, Camael reached up and swiped his fingers across his tongue and throat. Raphael retched, but strangely, his throat hurt far less.

"Shut up," she snapped as he panted, stooping and running the washcloth down his legs.

"You’re a real idiot, you know," she said as she straightened.

"Wh-?" He cleared his throat, trying to get his voice to obey him. His voice sounded ridiculous, slurring and rough. "Why?"

Finally, he got his legs to support him, though they shook violently. Still, when Camael pushed him forward and Michael pulled him towards her, he went easily. He slumped, head resting on her shoulder, letting her take most of his weight. Behind him, Camael wiped him down with quick, rough movements. His skin burned, too sensitive, under the touch of the rag, and he whined as his hands and feet began to sting. He hadn’t even realized how numb they’d gone, but now that they felt as if they were being lanced with needles, he wished they’d go back to being numb.

Camael knelt, pushing him so he put more of his weight on Michael, and pulled up his foot. He did cry out, then. They were always either sensitive or numb, but the feel of the rag was agony. Then he began to cough again, struggling against the burn in his chest. Each small gasp of breath he managed to get only fueled the burn, and he sobbed.

"Sorry, sorry," Camael muttered, hurrying to finish. The other foot hurt just as badly, if not more, and it was only because Michael braced herself that they weren’t both taken to the ground when his leg gave out.

"Close your eyes," Camael said, and then Michael guided him to stand upright and bend over. He wheezed, beginning to cough again, wrinkling his nose at the foul taste of sulfur. When the stream of water was aimed at his hair, he flinched, so Michael brought one hand up to cover his eyes. Hands ran roughly through his hair, tugging at tangles, Camael murmuring apologies every time he tugged roughly at his scalp.

"Is that all of it?" Camael asked, helping him to stand upright. He wavered, blinking blearily at Michael as he struggled to catch his breath.

The burning was starting up again in his throat, and he managed to say "All of-" before it irritated his throat so badly that he started to cough again. When the force of it, pain shooting through his upper back, threatened to take him to the ground, Camael held him upright. Heat filled his mouth, and he tasted sulfur as the water shut off.

"Don’t let him get any on his skin," Camael said as Michael pressed the cloth to his mouth.

"I know," she scowled. "Next time he can catch his breath, hold his head up and his mouth open."

It felt like ages as he coughed. His throat and chest burned, and tears trickled down his face. Camael slid one hand up to rest over his racing heart, Michael replacing his grip on Raphael’s arm with her own.

Finally, he was able to take a breath. It wasn’t much, but for a moment, he could stop coughing. His breath whistled in his throat, an awful sound that set his teeth on edge. Camael grabbed his jaw, making him tilt his head back, then, as gently as he could, squeezed the joints of his jaw.

Raphael coughed, jerking awkwardly at the angle his throat was forced to. He didn’t struggle as Camael lowered him, and Michael stood on the tips of her toes. She raised her hand, and Raphael’s instincts screamed as divinity spiked strongly in the air. Gold-tinged smoke trickled from his mouth as Michael pinched the air, then pulled back. There was an awful tugging feeling in his chest before the burning flared. He struggled against Camael’s pinning grip, but as the agonizing burn rose through his throat, his chest stopped hurting.

With a gasp, he began to gulp down air. Each breath came easier than the last, the burn moving to his tongue, then gone completely. Camael loosened his grip, letting him slump against him as he gasped for breath. Camael was saying something. He could tell by the vibrations of his chest against his back, and maybe Michael was, too. But his heart raced loudly in his ears, and he couldn’t hear anything else. He twisted, spitting ichor into the drain.

Michael stepped out of the shower, and scooping Raphael up, Camael followed.

Please tell me I’m not naked.

Michael looked away as she grabbed a towel. "Can you stand?"

He cleared his throat, basking in being able to breathe. "Y-yeah," he said, though he wasn’t really sure. Camael carefully set him down, making sure he could take his own weight before releasing him.

Raphael hadn’t known this Camael could be so gentle or kind. He wished he’d been aware enough to enjoy it.

Hands shaking, he took the towel she offered. His head was still a bit foggy, the world moving slowly around him, but now he could feel the alarm he should have felt before creeping up on him.

"How dumb are you?" Michael asked as he toweled himself dry before he could ask what the hell had happened. It was only as he carefully picked up a foot to towel it dry, leaning into Camael’s supporting hand, seeing the discolored flesh that went up nearly to his knee, that his heart dropped into his stomach.

His glamors.

He wasn’t wearing his glamors.

They’d have seen the discolorations for sure, and they certainly would have felt them. It was a miracle he hadn’t, in his daze, brought out his spines.

The thought made him feel ill.

And–his eyes. His eyes didn’t have the reassuring, faint warmth of his glamor, the one he applied without thought the moment he woke. That glamor—they'd have seen his eyes; they’d have seen those monstrous eyes. How had Michael stomached seeing them?

He took deep breaths, reveling in them, and answered her. "I don’t know... I don’t even know what happened." Frantically, he tried to call up the glamor. It was child’s play—something he could do when bleeding and half-dead. But his power, usually burning and riotous, was barely more than a smolder in his chest. His eyes remained unchanged.

"Myrrh," she said as she walked out of the bathroom, speaking over her shoulder as he tied the towel around his waist. Camael helped him follow on shaky legs. "You got yourself covered from head to toe in myrrh." When he walked into the rest of the apartment, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. The entire place smelled like ozone, divinity sparking along his skin.

Michael rummaged through his dresser, pulling out a shirt and tossing it to him once he’d sat on the edge (well, his bed was round, so it didn’t have edges) of his bed. It had been stripped down to the mattress, and the rough mattress itched his sensitive skin.

"And inhaled it," Camael added as he pulled the shirt on. He sounded pissed, and Raphael cringed. "How the hell did you manage that?"

"I didn’t mean to," Raphael protested as he wriggled awkwardly into a pair of shorts that landed in his lap. He mourned his boxers but would rather that Michael didn’t go into his underwear drawer. Remembering the days of robes and little else, then the days of kaunakes, which covered even less, he wondered when he’d become so prudish. What Fallen would mean to inhale myrrh? "Who burns myrrh anymore?"

Michael wasn’t far enough away for him to make out her expression, but he was fairly certain she was looking to Heaven for strength.

He didn’t need to look to know that Camael was rolling his eyes. "I’m serious," Raphael said. "I haven’t been able to smell anything but cinnamon for weeks. You think I’d’ve stuck around if I smelled myrrh?"

Of all the things hellish beings were weak to—blessed objects, certain sacred symbols and objects, holy water, purified salt, consecrated ground, certain sigils and runes, among other things—Raphael found myrrh the most insidious. Sacred symbols and objects you could avoid; you had to touch them, usually, to be harmed by them. Pick them up or have them thrown at you. They were only dangerous if they touched bare skin. Any hellish being knew well what those tended to be. Blessed objects were more dangerous; anything could be blessed. Sacred symbols and objects counted among blessed objects, like crosses, ushabti, and holy books. But it was entirely possible to rummage through a pile of clothing and find a blessed shirt. Sigils and runes had to be carved or painted, and were far less reliable. They were so finicky that a shaky hand or a shed eyelash in the wrong spot could ruin the entire thing. They were usually best at keeping hellish beings out, or he’d have considered them much worse. But if someone knew what they were doing, they could make the barrier far more dangerous, even lethal. The ones he’d painted around his cave served as an electric fence, although he’d seen an imp fried to ash when it insisted on continuing to try to come in. Once, though, he’d seen a demon walk over an intricate rune set, unaware, and be instantly and mercilessly erased from existence.

Consecrated ground, well. Raphael, personally, hated consecrated ground after spending years recovering from a run-in with it. But provided you weren’t him and weren’t foolish with it, it wasn’t too much of a danger. Consecrated ground was almost always a holy building, religious or spiritual retreat, sacred grove, or sacred site. So long as you avoided those, you were just fine. That wasn’t a hard rule—he was still deeply confused by a six-inch-by-six-inch patch he’d found deep in Baikunthapur Forest—but it was a safe one to live by. And, if you were unlucky enough to find some random patch, you just had to step off of it.

It was only when you stayed standing on it that it started to eat away at your being.

Purified salt, unless consumed, was only really useful for making a salt circle. If it touched the skin, it acted as a bit of an irritant, but when consumed in large amounts, it became an anticoagulant. ‘Large amounts’ being the key word; it diluted in drinks, and any amounts that would be dangerous to a hellish being made food noticeably salty. And holy water—well, any self-respecting hellish being feared holy water, especially with people carrying it around now. You never knew how pure it would be, whether it was just tap water with a prayer said over it by some human or water properly blessed by an angel. The former, a Fallen or demon would have to be dunked in or guzzle to be killed by, and it would be a long, drawn-out, preventable death. Otherwise, it hurt like hot oil.

Not pleasant, but better than the latter. The latter was like acid; a few drops would eat away at your skin, but any significant amount was liable to outright dissolve you away.

Myrrh, though. In its natural state, it was harmless. He could hold it with his bare hands if he wanted to. But when burned, which humans had taken to doing, it became smoke. And it was the smoke that was so dangerous. That it had such a strong, distinct scent meant it was one of the easier dangers to avoid. Still, if, somehow, you breathed it—perhaps being a new demon, or a Fallen with little experience of Creation—it settled in your lungs, clinging to your throat. Often, it coated your skin as well, if you were unlucky enough to be too close. It ate away at you slowly, siphoning away your power. This made you tired, too dazed to register that something was wrong. If you fell asleep, you never woke up again.

Raphael remembered how groggy he’d felt, how tired and listless, so certain that it would be no harm at all just to go back to sleep. How he hadn’t cared though there’d been hands on him, strangers (or so they’d seemed at the time) crowded around him while he was vulnerable. If that had happened in Hell...

He shivered.

Michael had been talking, and he quickly scrubbed his hair dry, trying to pretend he’d been listening.

"–lucky we found you when we did!"

"I know," he said. There were so many ways he was lucky, as much as he sometimes thought himself otherwise. When it mattered, he was damn lucky.

"Really," Camael said behind him, his voice soft. "You were almost dead, Raphael. If we had waited a few hours–"

Raphael was startled when Camael’s voice hitched. And, he realized, Michael’s had sounded decidedly rattled. They cared. He barely managed to keep from smiling, as inappropriate as that would be. They still didn’t remember him. Camael hadn’t told him what he’d seen, but he’d seen a memory, or more than one. Enough to know he had known him once. That, for all these years, Raphael hadn’t been lying. He didn’t know the depth of their relationship, but that was fine. Gabriel and Michael, through Camael, had come to accept that they’d known him as well.

It was hard to deny, especially once he showed them their feathers on his necklace and that his were on their jewelry. He couldn’t fake the feathers on his necklace. They shed feathers, sure. But the feathers on his necklace sparked with their divinity—the remnants of when they’d shrunk them, solidifying them so they wouldn’t be ruined in his day-to-day. There wasn’t any of his foul power on them.

Right, his power. It was a bit of a struggle, but after a moment, he managed to pull a glamor over his eyes. He’d done his best not to look them in the eye, but they’d certainly noticed something was off, even if they’d been distracted when they’d seen it.

How they hadn’t realized they had his feathers—well, he had his suspicions. They’d worn them since before Creation, and that was a very long time not to question the seemingly random feathers they shared. Then again, there were so many things that didn’t make sense that no one in Heaven, it seemed, had questioned.

His necklace-! He reached for his throat, fumbling where the cold chain always was. He’d only taken it off once since they’d given it to him, when he’d handed it to Michael to prove he really did have their feathers. But his neck was bare, and, to his horror, so was his wrist. Camael’s bracelet was gone, too.

"Here." Michael’s voice was undeniably strangled. When he looked at her, he sighed in relief. A little smear of gold and what looked to be a miniscule streak of the same with three white blobs dangling from it hung from her hand. They reeked of ozone, and divinity brushed against his skin when he took them.

"We-"

"We?"

"Michael banished your bedding. It had myrrh all over it." Raphael had liked that bedding. "Your clothes too. She cleaned everything. We didn’t want to risk missing some."

"When did you manage to do that?" He gaped at Michael. Everything between falling asleep and Camael washing his hair was blurry, with massive blank spots. Still, he was fairly certain there hadn’t been a moment when she wasn’t there.

Camael took the clasp he’d been struggling with, ignoring his startled flinch, and fastened his necklace for him. Feeling was still coming back to his extremities, and he felt rather fumbly.

"Right after I took off your clothes," she said plainly. Raphael was sure he turned an impressive silver as he remembered her stripping him under the water, Camael holding up his dead weight. She was his sister, but still. He’d have been just as embarrassed if it were Gabriel. Hell, Camael being there was almost as embarrassing.

…wow, he really had become a prude.

"I did it all at the same time. It’s not that hard if you’re doing all the room at once. Though, uh," she sounded sheepish. He remembered the way she’d avert her eyes when embarrassed, dark skin taking on a twinkling gold glint. "I might have been a bit overzealous. Some of those lights went out… and I might have vanished some of your towels."

That did not surprise him. You didn’t have to put much thought into using power—or divinity, as the case might be—but the less you focused, the more mistakes it might make or the more liberties it might take. If she’d thought ‘bedding and clothing’ it might have included ‘fabrics’ in that, and he should feel lucky he had any clothing or towels left at all. Hell, if she’d been rushing and had intentions such as ‘purify everything’, he was lucky he had anything left; such broad intentions could easily have ‘purified’ his apartment by emptying it.

He laughed. It felt good to laugh, to enjoy being able to breathe without that awful burn. "Don’t, don’t worry about it. Those were shit towels."

Forgetting himself, used to only letting Lilith and Lethe at his back, he reclined back against Camael. Camael stiffened against him, and he went rigid. Then, slowly, Camael relaxed.

Michael moved to sit next to him, sighing loudly.

"You have to be more careful," she said, sounding her age. Not the one her physical body appeared, but how old she truly was.

"I usually am." Sometimes. With some things. He was still alive, wasn’t he? And in (mostly) one piece.

Camael snorted.

"I avoid myrrh, I promise. We all do." He winced. Usually, he did all he could to keep from mentioning Hell, demons, or other Fallen. "If I have to get close to it, I layer up and wear masks. I avoid anywhere that burns incense or anything." This did, however, make it very hard to source materials for runes and sigils. Oh. The fucking corner store! The person who ran it was always burning candles. He’d been going there for years. "And if I even think I’m exposed to it, I shower. I just couldn’t smell anything through that damn cinnamon. It’s been strong the last few years, but never this bad."

...then again, he forced himself not to grimace; he hadn’t even worn his mask. Some dumbass had yelled at him the last time he had, and he hadn’t had it in him to get into an argument if he ran into someone else who took issue with him. Of course, that would be the one time Georgie burned fucking myrrh instead of their ‘field of fresh-mown grass’ candles.

In fact, he had sneezed. But their candles usually made him sneeze, and the cinnamon brooms irritated his nose, so he hadn’t thought anything of it.

Damn, he was stupid.

"Well, it is. What are you going to do now?"

Camael asked a good question. Raphael pinched the bridge of his nose as he thought. "I’ll have to be more careful. Cover up as much as I can, stay away from any shops if I can, wear a mask. Definitely will shower as soon as I get home no matter what... that was dumb of me."

"Very."

It was funny when Michael and Gabriel did it. When Michael and Camael spoke together, it was just disconcerting.

"Burn any cinnamon brooms I find," he added, sotto voce.

"Why are they even a thing?" Michael shook her head. "Makes you feel like you shoved a bar of cinnamon up your nose."

He laughed, enjoying the rumble of Camael’s chest behind him as he did the same.

God, he’d missed this.

"What were you doing here, anyway?" He'd been sure he’d be spending Christmas alone. But here were Michael and Camael in his apartment, having saved his life. "Not that I’m not grateful!" He was quick to add.

Camael didn’t laugh again, but Raphael could feel the rumble of his chuckle against his back. The warmth that spread through his chest, then, was anything but painful.

"Well, it’s Christmas, isn’t it?" Camael said, and now that he paid attention, Raphael realized he was right. Even through the cinnamon, he could smell turkeys and hams baking; his gender-optional neighbor had, it seemed, procrastinated and was only now baking an over-sweetened apple pie. Children were shrieking (he grimaced. Michael snickered.), and adults and older children were laughing. Awful Christmas music was playing, muffling the tearing of wrapping paper and the high-pitched noises of children trying out their new toys.

"You really thought we were going to let you spend it alone? Our own brother?"

Yes.

"I didn’t think you celebrated, honestly."

He knew they celebrated. He’d seen them more than once, participating in so many holidays over the centuries. So many New Year's celebrations, sometimes more than one in the same year. Why humans couldn’t pick a calendar and stick with it, he’d never know. Sometimes it was just Michael and Gabriel. Others, it was Michael, Gabriel, and Camael, and he was glad about it. It was nice to know they were still close. Rarely, it was just one of them. Often, it was Michael and Raguel, Camael, and, bafflingly, Gabriel and Kushiel. He’d seen them giving gifts of protection during Handsel Monday centuries ago, helping with the harvest and blessing the loaves of Lammas, preventing injuries during Gŵyl Mabsant, betting on who’d fail to carry the burning barrels during Up Helly Aa, throwing tomatoes at each other (from what he could tell through watching from afar, they lost points if they hit humans) each La Tomatina he’d seen, and, on one memorable occasion, Gabriel, Kushiel, and Raguel, glamored to appear as a man, competing in a heated discus throwing competition at one of the last Ancient Olympic games while Michael and Camael egged them on. This had ended very quickly when Gabriel, scowling at Kushiel, had flung his discus an impossible distance and lodged it into the wall of the stadium. There had been a very brief chaos as the angels rushed to make the humans forget what they saw.

Raphael would have helped, honestly, but he’d been too busy laughing until he cried at the horror on their faces.

And, in recent years, Gabriel seemed to have found it great fun to participate in Blasphemy Day. Michael always followed him, telling him he shouldn’t, but if Raphael got close enough that he could make out her face, she was always grinning.

But why should he think they’d want to celebrate with him?

"Of course we do," Michael frowned. "Actually, Camael, can you text Gabriel? He’s probably wondering where we are."

"Wait, Gabriel–?"

"He’s at Camael’s apartment. We’ve got a tree up and everything. If you’re feeling up to it, of course?"

Of course, he was up to it. He’d drag himself across shards of blessed glass if only to have a moment with any of them. His skin was a bit too sensitive, but otherwise? He’d have had no idea that he’d almost died in such a stupid way.

"Yeah, of course." Michael stared him down, but she’d raised him, insofar as any of them had been raised, so he didn’t squirm or look away.

"Tell Gabriel we’re about to head over," she finally said, apparently satisfied. Then she leaned forward, grabbing something out of his sightline that crinkled loudly. When she leaned back, she held a lumpy package in her hands, covered in gaudy, multi-colored stripes. At least, he assumed so. They smeared, hurting his eyes. She dropped it in his lap.

"What’s this?" He picked it up, wrinkling his brow when it gave under his touch.

"You have to look the part." Even still, she sounded tired, and he felt horrible for scaring her so badly.

Look the part?

Finally, he really looked at her. And then he had to laugh. He’d been a bit distracted, but now it was impossible to miss the garish red sweater she wore. It clashed horribly with her hair, and he wished more than anything that he could make out what those twinkling, white blobs were.

"Camael’s is worse," she grumped. That he had to see. He twisted, then laughed harder. Raphael hadn’t known blue could be that bright, and the fuzziness of it explained the coarseness he’d felt against his exposed skin. Lights of various colors twinkled, and he snorted, then laughed at that.

"Oh God," he rubbed at his eyes as they teared up, "that’s bad."

"Wait until you see yours." Camael patted his shoulder.

"Mine?" The word came out far louder than he’d intended it to.

They really did want him, didn’t they? A gift, a Christmas tree, and now an ugly Christmas sweater. His grin, he was sure, was wobbly. Raphael had gifts for them too, of course. But he’d had no delusions of being able to give them to them. He had intended to give them to Camael the next time he saw him, Oh, I saw these, thought of you guys. Mind giving those to Michael and Gabriel next you see them? Thanks!

He’d never dreamed of being able to see them open them.

"Now, get dressed. Put that on, get some pants. Sister or not, I’m not going through your underwear drawer."

"Thank you for that."

He had so much to thank her for. Raphael didn’t think he’d ever be able to say them all.

#whumptember2023 #whumptember 2023 #whumptember2023 day 25 #whumptember day 25 #day twenty five: head lolling #day twenty five: desperate measures #sicktember2023 #sicktember 2023 #sicktember day 5 #sicktember day 23 #sicktember day 25 #sicktember day 27 #sicktember day 29 #bad things happen bingo #prompt: hurts to breathe #saudade #original writing #one-shot #original story #raphael #michael #gabriel #camael #implied depression #lore #world lore #worldbuilding #bthb

[sicktemberfeed]

READ BEFORE INTERACTING

Hello and welcome!

Following the announcement that the official sicktember event runners would only be posting a set number of fills per day, I sought permission to curate a blog of my own where I did my best to offer an alternate option, closer to how the fills were promoted before.

Previously, the mods of the event would reblog/promote every fill that was posted. Many people, it seems, were not a fan of this influx of fills being spilled onto their dash, understandably so. I, however, loved that, and am very sad to see it go.

So! I made this blog for myself and for anyone else who might want a place to peruse every fill. This blog will contain every sicktember fill for 2023 I can get my hands on, and I will be tagging fandoms accordingly and to the best of my ability!

I am not affiliated with the mods of sicktember. I am just a HUGE fan of their event who asked them permission to do this so people could have an alternate option and a wide range of fics to read all in one convenient place. I totally respect and understand their decision, and I am super grateful they were cool with me doing this.

Please direct any and all questions about the event itself to @sicktember! And please read their FAQ to keep yourself up to speed on rules and regulations, as all other rules will apply to this blog, as well.

!!! SEARCH BY PROMPT BELOW !!!

2023 Prompts

Hopelessly Bad at Self-Care

Quest for a Cure

“What happened to your phenomenal immune system, huh?”

Hiding an Illness

Preventative Measures (Not Taken)

Sick and Injured

 “You’re a Jerk When You’re Sick”

Persistent Fever

White Coat Syndrome

“The only place we’re going is to the pharmacy.”

Beginner’s Guide to Faking Sick

Old Wives Tale

Anxious Stomach

 ‘‘I shouldn’t be worried about you, but for some reason I am.’’

Sick in an Inconvenient Place

Consulting the Internet/Web MD

Magical Remedy/Healing Potion

“Wear Your Coat, You’ll Catch a Cold.”

Curled Up With a Pet

Cramping Pain

“But if you stay, you’ll get sick too.”

Terms of Endearment/Nicknames

Coughing Fit

“Did you just sneeze?”

Confused/Disoriented

Pink Eye/Conjunctivitis

Uncooperative Patient

“I should have stayed home.”

Side Effects/Adverse Reaction

Patient 0

2023 Alternate Prompts

Alt. 1.“I Could Really Use a Hug Right About Now”

Alt. 2. Fuzzy Socks

Alt. 3. Pounding Headache

Alt. 4. Forehead Kisses

Alt. 5. “I’m so sorry”

#sicktember #sicktember 2023 #pinned

[goldenempyrean]

Sicktember Prompt List!

Hey everyone! Since the sicktember prompt list was released, I’m leaving it down to you guys to decide the pairings :D Lil bit of audience participation, y’know? So please go check out the list below and tell me you’d you want as the pairing :) Anything in blue is my own pairing choice too (and any prompt in green is one of the alternate ones btw!)

1. Hopelessly Bad at Self-Care - Wanda x R

2. Quest for a Cure - WandaNat x R (Sick Nat)

3. "What happened to your phenomenal immune system, huh?" - Sick Kara x R

4. Hiding an Illness - Flo x Sick R

5. Preventative Measures (Not Taken)  - Sick Alex x Maggie

6. Sick and Injured - Sick Nat x R

7. “You’re a jerk when you’re sick” - Sick Yelena x R

8. Persistent Fever - Sick Wanda x Nat

9. Pounding Headache - Sick Alex x Reader

10. “The only place we’re going is to the pharmacy”-Sick WandaxR

11. Beginner’s Guide to Faking Sick - Wanda x Nat

12. Old Wives Tale - Sick Flo x Sick R

13. Forehead Kisses - Sick Scarlett x Reader

14. ‘‘I shouldn’t be worried about you, but for some reason I am’’  - Lena x Sick R

15. Sick in an Inconvenient Place - Sick Lizzie x R

16. Consulting the Internet/Web MD - Kara x Sick R

17. Magical Remedy/Healing Potion  - Sick Nat x Wanda

18. “Wear your coat, you’ll catch a cold”  - Lena x Sick R

19. Curled Up With a Pet - Sick Nat x R

20. Cramping Pain  - Sick Kate x R

21. "But if you stay, you'll get sick too"  - Sick Nat x R

22. Terms of Endearment/Nicknames  - Supercorp x Sick R

23. Coughing Fit - Sick Flo x R

24. “Did you just sneeze?” - Sick Kate x R

25. “I Could Really Use a Hug Right About Now” - WandaNat x R (Sick N)

26. Fuzzy Socks - Sick Lena x Kara

27. Uncooperative Patient  - WandaNat x Sick Reader

28. “I should have stayed home”  - Sick Wanda x Nat

29. Side Effects/Adverse Reaction - Sick Scarlett x Reader

30. Patient - Alex x Sick R

(@sicktember huge thanks for these amazing prompts too!)

#sicktember #sickfic #prompts #send in your pairings! #specific sickie please too :D #sicktember 2023 pairings

[honey-dewey]

My Sicktember Statistics!

If you were unaware, over on my AO3, I partook in the 2023 Sicktember writing challenge for Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order and Jedi: Survivor, and it was really fun! I had a blast and will almost certainly be doing it again next year.

But! Over on the Sicktember Tumblr page, there was a little retrospective created by @ethereousdelirious I figured I would do now that the event is over.

You can read my Sicktember story here on my AO3.

How many prompts did you fill?

All 30 of the standard prompts. I didn't have the guts to write the alt prompts as well, although maybe next year.

Longest Fill:

Now I'll be honest, I don't know the exact word count of each chapter. Oops. If I had to guess I would say "But if you stay, you'll get sick too" and that's probably because I wrote that one first.

Shortest Fill:

I did try to hit just above 1000 words for each story. I really did. But a few came in around 950, and one of them came in at a whopping 736 words (yes I checked just for this post.) That would be Home Remedy/Old Wives Tale! Probably, because as I said above, I don't know the exact word count for all the chapters.

Favorite fill(s) and why:

My favorite prompt I did this entire event is probably "the only place we're going is a pharmacy." I adore writing Cal as a child and his relationship with Prauf, as messy as we all assume it was in the beginning. That and I just love the way I managed to portray Cal as closely to a drowned kitten as possible. If I had to pick two runners up, I would probably say Anxious Stomach (I loved writing that one because Cal vulnerable is my jam) and Side Effects/Adverse Reaction (Because droid dad. Need I say more?)

Least favorite fill(s) and why:

The reason for the first two, Consulting the Internet/Web MD and Cramping Pain are pretty similar. I just didn't like the way they came out. They're too short and messy and not my best work. Same goes for the third, "You're a jerk when you're sick" with the fun added bonus of it feeling painfully OOC. But they're up and I can't change them now, so they are my ugly duckling chapters.

Were there any prompts that challenged you in a fun way?

Pink Eye/Conjunctivitis was a tough but fun one because it was the only one with Kata, and I am not a parent in any regard. It was juts tough to start that one, but once I started, I finished it very fast, which was great because I didn't start it until the day before it was supposed to go up. The second one is definitely Curling up with a Pet, which I started, erased my half-finished submission, and then changed my chapter summary entirely because I had a better idea. Originally, BD was supposed to be the pet Cal curled up with, but then I remembered how much I wanted to pet a nekko, and thus the actual chapter was born literally three days away from posting it.

What, if anything, would you like to do differently next year?

I would love to do longer prompts! I was scrambling to start my senior year of college when the prompt list dropped and I was concerned because I had already planned a looooong and intense Whumptober story, so I would love to deep dive and write another thousand or two words for each prompt next year.

#sicktember 2023 #my writing #star wars jedi survivor #star wars fallen order #retrospective

[sicktember]

Sicktember 2023 Prompt-Based Resources to Help You Get Started! 💚

Types of Self Care

everydayhealth.com (comprehensive overview)

mhanational.org (Mental health recovery self-care)

recreation.ku.edu (7 pillars of self-care)

How the Immune System Works

Youtube (basic explanation)

my.clevelandclinic.org (comprehensive overview)

Ways to Avoid Getting Sick

intermountainhealthcare.org (basic prevention)

health.harvard.edu (boosting your immune system)

Fevers

texaschildrens.org (myths and facts)

merkmanuals.com (fevers in adults)

kidshealth.org (fevers in children)

White Coat Syndrome

healthline.com (white coat hypertension)

wellnesscounselingmilwaukee.com (fear of doctors)

Old Wives Tales

premierhealth.com (colds, fevers, and the flu)

womanshealthmag.com (old wives tales that work)

Anxious Stomach

adaa.org (causes of stomach pain and calming techniques)

psychcentral.com (anxiety and vomiting)

themighty.com (blog post: vomiting during a panic attack)

Cramping Pain

my.clevelandclinic.org (abdominal)

mayoclinic.org (muscle)

reumatology.org (growing pains)

Terms of Endearment

fluentinthreemonths.com (nicknames by language)

joincake.com (nicknames by relationship)

mypetname.com (cute/funny nicknames by relationship)

Coughing

truecare.org (types of coughs)

coughpro.com (types of coughs- more detail)

foundation.chestnet.org (about coughing)

Sneezing

healthline.com (comprehensive overview)

expedia.ca (worldwide responses to sneezing)

inpactgrouphr.com (worldwide sneeze onomatopoeia and responses)

Confusion/Disorientation

healthdirect.gov.au (comprehensive overview)

nhs.uk (sudden onset)

Conjunctivitis/Eye Infection

health.maryland.gov (PDF 'pink eye' fact sheet)

demi.org (types of conjunctivitis)

aao.org (how to apply eyedrops w/ an alt method for anxiety)

Uncooperative Patient

seniordirectory.com (written for seniors but very good advice)

kidcarepediatrics.com (giving meds to an uncooperative child)

hpclive.com (tips for handling an angry patient)

side effects/adverse reactions

fda.gov (finding and learning about medication side effects)

mhaus.org (adverse reactions to anesthesia)

buzzrx.com (5 types of meds w/ serious side-effects)

Patient Zero

cdc.gov (monitoring and tracking diseases)

contacttracing.ashm.org.au (how contact tracing works)

Hugs!

dignityhealth.org (four benefits)

somatechnology.com (how hugs affect humans)

Headaches

medicalnewstoday.com (11 types of headaches)

ninds.nih.gov (comprehensive overview)

#sicktember #sicktember 2023 #resources and advice #self care #immune system #fever #white coat syndrome #old wives tales #anxious stomach #cramping pain #coughing #sneezing #disorientation #pink eye #uncooperative patient #side effects #patient zero #hugs #headache #sickfic thoughts #writing illness #sickfic prompts #sick character #writing reference #writing ref #reference guide #sick ref #sicfic #sick fic

[creative-caramel-coffee]

SICKTEMBER PROMPTS 2023 :)

So I was thinking Im going to kind of do sicktember? like Im only going to use some prompts (the ones i like) which i showed below. I will maybe write a fic for each of them, but no promises. And there not going to be posted in order (cuz It depends on what im motivated to write and when).

1. Hopelessly bad at self-care (WANDANAT x R)

TW: fever, Flu, non-sexual nudity, implied sexual joke (just one), slight angst, traumatic past (mentioned)

4. Hiding an Illness (WANDANAT x R)

TW: Blood, fainting, bloodloss, stitches, getting shot, injury, hiding injuries (duh), slight angst (kinda)

6. Sick and Iniured (WANDA x R)

TW: broken bone (mentioned), fever, Flu, injury, vomiting, non-sexual nudity

8. Persistent Fever

11. Beginner's Guide to Faking Sick (WANDANAT x R)

TW: vomiting, slight angst, migraine, non-sexual nudity, fever

13. Anxious Stomach (WANDANAT x R)

TW: vomiting

15. Sick in an Inconvenient Place (WANDNAT x R)

TW: vomiting, exhaustion, talks of medication, anxiety, secrets, slight angst

16. Consulting the Internet/Web MD

19. Curled Up With a Pet

20. Cramping Pain (WANDNAT x R)

TW: pain medicine, blood, period, cramps, bleeding on the bed, non-sexual nudity, Reader has their clothes removed (not in a bad way though don’t worry … you’ll see), hiding injuries / sickness, slight angst,

23. Coughing Fit

24. "Did you just sneeze?"

25. Confused/Disoriented

27. Uncooperative Patient

28. "I should have stayed home" (WANDANAT x R)

TW: exhaustion, talks of medication, fever, secrets, blood / nosebleed, cold, fainting, stitches, injury, swearing, fighting

29. Side Effects/Adverse Reaction (WANDANAT x R)

TW: Vomiting, surgery, medicine, getting shot

BTW Bold + underline = finished and linked :)

#sicktember #marvel #wandanat comfort #wandanat sick #wandanat x reader #wandanat sic fic #wandanat x r #wandanat #the avengers #peter parker #tony stark #spiderman #wanda maximoff #natasha romaoff #sicfic #hurt/comfort #announcment

[gaycey-sketchit]

I'm at a point with my Sicktember writing where I'm starting to lose track of which prompt fills I've finished and which I haven't, so here's a little progress check for myself (and anyone else who's curious about how it's going for me). (And if you're interested in me doing something specific with a prompt that isn't in progress or complete, please feel free to drop a suggestion in my inbox! You can probably tell what characters I'm interested in writing at the moment.)

Prompts:

1. Hopelessly Bad at Self-Care

2. Quest for a Cure - complete! Gary/Tracey

3. “What happened to your phenomenal immune system, huh?”

4. Hiding an Illness

5. Preventative Measures (Not Taken)

6. Sick and Injured

7. “You’re a Jerk When You’re Sick”

8. Persistent Fever

9. White Coat Syndrome - in progress; Tracey & Professor Oak

10. “The only place we’re going is to the pharmacy”

11. Beginner’s Guide to Faking Sick

12. Old Wives Tale

13. Anxious Stomach

14. ‘‘I shouldn’t be worried about you, but for some reason I am’’

15. Sick in an Inconvenient Place

16. Consulting the Internet/Web MD - complete! Gary/Tracey

17. Magical Remedy/Healing Potion - complete! Gary & Umbreon

18. “Wear Your Coat, You’ll Catch a Cold”

19. Curled Up With a Pet

20. Cramping Pain - in progress; Gary/Tracey

21. “But if you stay, you’ll get sick too”

22. Terms of Endearment/Nicknames - complete! Gary/Tracey

23. Coughing Fit

24. “Did you just sneeze?”

25. Confused/Disoriented - complete! Gary/Tracey

26. Pink Eye/Conjunctivitis

27. Uncooperative Patient

28. “I should have stayed home” - in progress; Gary/Tracey

29. Side Effects/Adverse Reaction

30. Patient 0

Alts

“I Could Really Use a Hug Right About Now”

Fuzzy Socks

Pounding Headache

Forehead Kisses

“I’m so sorry”

#respectfully me #sicktember 2023

[dutifullyshamelessearthquake]

Hmmmm I’m curious about ask 10 or 7 :) also im actually working on a comic right now and while the drawing stuff I can handle the writing is something I know I can do but I’m much more intimidated by so I may ask others to pick your brain more 😅

From this ask!

7. Post a snippet from a WIP

"Care for another trick?"

He pulled a pack of cards out of his pocket in such a smooth movement, from another angle it would've looked like he conjured them up out of thin air. He shuffled them in a practiced movement, before extending his arm to Aether. "Pick a card, any card!"

"Lyney, listen." Aether laughed. "I love you like the little brother I never had, but can we please hold off on the magic tricks for a little while? I'm going to faint if I don't eat now, I am starving."

"Alright, alright." Lyney chuckled, tucking the cards back into his pocket. As he did, he grimaced slightly, unnoticeably slipping a hand in beneath his shirt to press against his stomach.

10. Do you work on multiple fics at the same time, or only focus on one?

I generally try to focus on only one fic at a time, otherwise it takes me quite a while to get them written! Though as you may have noticed, I haven't posted anything in a while aaand... That's because I'm currently actively breaking my own rule 😅 I'm working on 3 fics right now, which is why I haven't finished anything to post yet!

The fics I'm currently working on is;

A Cyno-centric one shot based on the prompt Side Effects/Adverse Reaction

The multi-chapter Cynonari fic I mentioned during Sicktember

And the fic the snippet above is based on, an eagerly awaited fic about Albether and Lyneylumi!

Also thank you so much for the ask!! I love answering questions, hehe. Ask as many as you want!! Sorry it took me a bit to answer this one, I wasn't feeling very well the past few days, but I'm back to feeling like myself again now and ready to be active again!

#earthquake author's note #ask earthquake #sickfic #genshin sickfic

[ethereousdelirious]

I caught a cold 🤧 now it really is Sicktember

Sicktember 2023 Day 29

Prompt: Side Effects/Adverse Reaction

Fandom: Po.kémon

Characters: V.olkner, Fli.nt

Notes: The medication referenced is pseudoephedrine. Turns out there's a reason they make m.eth out of that stuff 😬

Also this is a totally random little detail but I had Vo.lkner and Fl.int swap O.ctillery and Lo.punny for literally no reason at all. I got their teams mixed up and was like "eh, fuck it. tradesies"

Volkner better not have been dead. That would have been a real bummer.  Not to mention inconvenient, because Flint had been talking a big game in the Fight Area and he couldn't kick as much Ace Trainer butt without his trusty partner in crime.

Sighing, he tossed Infernape's Pokéball from hand to hand a few times. If the ferry had gotten a late start and Volkner was only just now out on the water, he wouldn't have any cell service.

But still...

Flint whipped his phone out and flipped it open, staring at the keypad. Maybe he should…

His phone buzzed and Volkner's face popped up on the screen accompanied by his custom ringtone. Flint hit the button to answer. "Yo, Shotgun! I was just about to call you. What's up?"

Volkner's tinny, congested voice cut through the static. "I overslept and missed the ferry. Next one's not for another half— h-half— its'SKH!"

"You okay, dude?" Volkner had mentioned earlier that he was getting over a cold, but he sure didn't sound like he was over anything.

Volkner gave a congested sigh that crackled over the cell connection. "Guh. Yeah. Sorry. Ih'SCHK!"

"I thought you said your doctor prescribed you something."

"He did, but it's, uh. Uhh, it's a whole thing, you know? Anyway. I'm— Hm, I'll see you soon. Don't battle anyone without me."

"Okay, man." Flint made no effort at keeping the concern out of his voice. Volkner was acting weird. Since when did he talk so much?

Flint flipped his phone shut and tucked it back in his pocket. "Don't battle anyone, huh?" he said to Infernape's Pokéball.

Great, that only left him with 40 minutes to kill and nothing to do. It was an awkward amount of time to try to get over to the Resort Area and back in time to meet Volkner at the docks and he couldn't go exploring without risking a battle with someone. And Volkner would know if he battled anyone and never let him hear the end of it.

With a sigh, Flint set off to find a café.

While the Battle Zone was short of amenities, there were a few restaurants and cafés sprinkled throughout, albeit with an obvious bias for the Resort Area.

For lack of options, Flint found himself in a dingy café that looked more like a dive bar, with salt-blurred windows and a deck that overlooked the sea. After a few minutes spent contemplating the menu, Flint ordered a milk tea with tapioca pearls and went outside to lean against the railing and watch the waves.

By the time the ferry reached the dock, Flint had migrated down to the water and started launching tapioca pearls from his straw for Octillery to catch. A few Magikarp came up to nibble at the pearls Octillery dropped, but they scattered when the ferry's wake began to churn the water.

Flint got to his feet and stretched, recalling Octillery with a smile and a wink.

Volkner was one of the first passengers to disembark the ferry, which was weird. He even waved at Flint instead of rolling his eyes.

"Hey, shotgun!" Flint pulled him in for a side hug. "How's Lopunny treating you?"

Volkner cracked his neck and shook himself. "I'm still trying to figure out how to make the most of her," he said, and every word buzzed with impenetrable congestion. His hands roamed as he talked, rubbing the bridge of his nose, running through his hair, fidgeting with his clothing.

Flint looked him over properly, long and slow. Volkner was acting jumpier than a Spoink (heh, that was a good one). Despite the sunlight, his dilated pupils reduced the brilliant blue of his irises to a mere sliver. He had said something about a prescription, hadn't he?

"IH'schuh!"

"Volkner. Are you okay?"

Volkner rolled his eyes, scrubbing at his nose with his fingertips. "So you know how I caught that cold last week? Well, I went to the doctor because I couldn't hear anything and he said it was my..." Volkner screwed up his face. "I don't know, something with my ears, so he prescribed me this medication that was supposed to help, and it kind of does, but the trade off is this." He gestured to himself and the jittery ball of nerves he'd become. "And on top of all that, I'm still... s-still— ih'SKXT! Unh. Sneezing."

Well. That explained a lot. "Man, I don't think I've ever heard you talk this much before," Flint said, smiling.

"Don't get used to it." Volkner sniffed and blinked hard. "Are we doing this or— or, uhh… hhhIH'TSCHK!"

"No, buddy," Flint said, catching Volkner by the shoulder to keep him from stumbling. "I think we're not doing this."

"Flint…"

"And I think you need to talk to your doctor about those meds. Have you been taking challengers like this?"

"As a matter of fact, yes." Volkner glared, but in his usual, 'not actually irritated' way. "Since somebody took away my toolbox and told me I'm not allowed to remodel my Gym for another year."

"Hey, man, it was that or an official reprimand from the Board."

"Oh, please— IH'SXT! They can't fire me."

Flint stuck his hands in his pockets and bounced on the balls of his feet. It was good to see that Volkner's confidence hasn't wavered, but he was clearly in no shape to battle. He needed to rest, something his medication obviously made it impossible to do. No wonder he hadn't gotten any better. Was he even sleeping?

"...Can they?" Volkner's voice cut through the smoke in Flint's head.

"Huh?"

"You got all quiet."

"Oh!" Flint bounced on his toes again and smiled. "I'm just worried about you, shotgun."

"Well, how about stop worrying about me and start worrying about battling? I didn't come here just to be fussed over."

"Aw." Flint forced his smile to widen into a shit-eating grin and took Volkner by the wrist. "It's cute that you think you can control that, hotshot."

Volkner let himself be manhandled back up to the café, though the lines of tension in his body suggested that he was more than ready to tear his arm out of Flint's grip and sprint away into the wilds. He really must have been feeling bad, or at least pretty disoriented.

"Why don't you get yourself a tea or something?" Flint said, passing over a laminated menu. He'd sat Volkner down by a table with a view of Stark Mountain and now they both stared at it, entranced by a plume of smoke emanating from one of the vents in the rocks.

Volkner looked down at the menu. "Bubble tea?"

"I was thinking more like something to help with that congestion," Flint, sitting down next to Volkner. "You sound really stuffed up."

"Impossible," Volkner said flatly, "I'm on medication for that."

"You're funny when you're like this," Flint said, reaching over to stop Volkner from compulsively scratching at his neck.

"Well, I hate it." Unable to fidget, Volkner squirmed in his seat. "I talk too much and I can't  stop chewing my nails and everything keeps startling me."

"You need to rest," Flint said, tilting his chair back on two legs and resting his hands on the back of his head. "Get some tea and let's sit for a while and watch Stark Mountain decide if it wants to kill us all."

Volkner sighed and rolled his eyes, but divested his hands from Flint's grip so he could pick up the menu. "Fine."

#ethereous writes #sicktember 2023