#sickness tw

[wowa-bublord]

You have to stay determined! You can't give up… You are the future of humans and monsters.

w/out flowers and stuff under cut!!! vvvvv

#asgore dreemurr #chara dreemurr #my art #undertale fanart #undertale #fanart #digital art #chara undertale #asgore undertale #sickness tw #illness cw #the entire time i was drawing this i had mamas boy stuck in my head which #although asgore is not a mama and chara is not a boy #is now their song 2 ME #im not fully happy w this but i spent like 3 hours on it sooo im done now HEHEGFHDJS

[tadc-ragatha]

It's Symbolic - Chapter 1: Puke

TW: Screaming, (painless) torture (what Pomni went through in the teaser), vomit/general sickness, centipedes (bugs), knives, a large/dangerous animal, (censored) swearing

Type: Fic; platonic

A/N: "You wake up somewhere new feeling very, very sick." Teen gender-neutral reader. Based on a post of mine available here [x]. I did my best here alright. I'm still working my way into characterisation.

"What—what's going on?! What the hell is going on?!" a voice screamed.

You looked around. Everything was a fuzzy mixture of dark colours, and your head was spinning. Reaching out, you grabbed onto the ground and tried to feel your way around.

"Now, are you ready for the show to begin?" a different more masculine voice boomed. A silence followed. "I said, are you ready?"

You were feeling at wooden plank flooring. Everything was dark, making it hard to find your way around as you felt like your brain was going to explode. Vomit was filling its way up your throat as you struggled to get to your feet.

"I'm ready, Caine!" said a third voice. It was cartoonishly cheerful and pierced into your brain.

Your legs giving way once more, you decided to crawl your way forward. It was hard to tell what direction you were going with your eyes yet to adjust to the darkness. However, feeling with your hands, you felt yourself brush up against a soft fabric. Using it as a guide, you crawled in its direction.

Yet just as your head was beginning to calm, a loud drum roll erupted. Instantly, your head was pounding again, and the nausea returned. Threatening to spill, you clamped your hand over your mouth.

Only, as you did so, you did not feel your mouth nor your hand. Instead, you felt thick hair all over your face and a cold round piece of metal. Moving your hand around, nothing changed. Every inch of your body was covered in long hair. Except for your hands, which as you felt them were wide slightly curved in metal circles—nothing like a normal human hand.

The drum roll stopped as a bounty of music filled the air. It was so much louder than the drums and sent your head splitting. With a sharp inhale, you tried to crawl through the pain. But with each crawl you were met with the music becoming louder. They were ear-splitting, head-smashing, brain-melting circus tunes.

"First up," the masculine voice who you assumed was Caine continued, "we have our jester Pomni on the amazing knife-throwing wheel!"

A "fwip" sound followed by a thud was heard.

"Hey! hey!" the voice from the start pleaded; one you assumed belonged to the so-called jester Pomni. "I didn't sign up for this! Let me go!"

Next you noted on the list of ear bleeding-inducing sounds was a comically stereotypical sound of something metal being revealed. You assumed it was a knife. And you guessed you were correct, as based on the blood-curdling screams from Pomni as the knife hit something with a thud.

The screams died down as Caine went on to say, "next up, the mind-boggling Gangle with her comically large and dangerous pet tiger!"

You heard the fwip and thud again, which was no help to your increasing headache. The tiger growled from somewhere nearby. Vomit was threatening to shoot out your mouth again. You spat all the saliva you could get out.

From the same direction as the growl was blubbering. Soon, it turned into full blown crying as the tiger growled louder. But you didn't care; the headache was too much.

The tiger's growling came to a stop as you heard the schlop of something wet hitting the floor. Yet the crying continued. Meanwhile, Caine went on to introduce something else.

"And now, our bravest Ragatha will dive head-first into a pool of writhing centipedes!"

"Caine!" a feminine voice complained. You heard the fwip and thud a third time. "You know how much I hate centipedes!"

"Is she going to do it?" The cheery voice asked.

Caine replied, "well, Bubble, I don't know! Why don't we give her a little encouragement?"

"Wait! No! No, no, no--hold on!" Ragatha pleaded. Without what you assumed was any care, something happened to Ragatha and she started screaming.

It was starting to get hard to spit the saliva out without having vomit come up your throat. As you tried to spit some more out, a pile of bile spilled out of your guts and onto the floor. Everything was spinning again as you felt another wave of vomit coming up. Finally, you gave up on moving and sat there on your hands and knees trying to keep steady.

"And now, please put your hands together for Kinger and his--" Caine was cut off. As the fwip was heard once more, light poured into your eyes as you gave in and puked your guts out. Wave after wave and pile after pile of pure bile spilled out of your mouth and onto the floor. It was too painful to take in the gasps around you, nor the fact that your vomit was black like ink.

Slowly, the spewing came to a halt. As you looked down, you finally saw what a mess you had made, and how your body did not at all look like how it was supposed to. Where you could feel hair was exactly that—thick long brown strands of hair covering everything—and where you could feel metal were gold circular metal plates. Cymbals.

"Looks like someone had a rough transition!" Bubble exclaimed.

Wearily, you looked up and around to try and get a sense of what you were dealing with. All around you were six strange figures of different colours, sizes, and proportions. Levitating in the air were two of the figures; one a clear bubble-like sphere with sharp teeth and beady black eyes, and another that seemed to be a living set of teeth and eyes atop a red suit. A giant tub of centipedes, a tiger, and a dart board sat off to the side.

The sphere, who you assumed was Bubble with its cheery voice, levitated towards you. Opening its mouth, you froze. All that ran through your mind was based on the screams of terror you had heard you were going to die. Yet just as you closed your eyes and prepared for impact, Bubble stuck out its tongue and began to lick at the puke.

The teeth man sighed. Based on his voice you assumed he was Caine. But his expression quickly changed as he pointed his cane towards you.

"Well, it seems our activity for today has been interrupted by a new human entering the realm!" He smiled.

From behind you, a red curtain was lifted up. From underneath, a purple rabbit poked his head out. He walked out into the area, took one look at the mess you made, and grimaced.

"What the hell is goin' on here?" he asked. "Is this a new sucker?"

"Not a new sucker, Jax," Caine responded, "but a new friend!”

You groaned. Your entire throat was burning from the bile and your headache was worse than ever. The sudden light made your eyes hurt. Meanwhile, you were trying to take in all the information around you. Reaching up to your face, you tried to grab at something around your eyes. But there was nothing there.

“Where am I? Where’s the headset?” you mumbled.

All of a sudden, you felt yourself be yanked up by the arm. A new wave of vomit threatened to spill. Looking up, you found yourself face to face with Caine.

He said, “my dear, you have stumbled into the world of the Digital Circus!”

“I’m gonna be sick—”

“Now, now, no time for being sick here!” he cut you off. “You’ve made your way into the world of wonder and amazement!” he paused. “Hence the name.”

“What the hell is going on?” a different voice called out. Poking their head out from behind the same curtain Jax emerged from, they revealed itself as a strange amalgamation of different brightly coloured shapes. The two eyes on their pink triangle head widened when it saw you. “What the f-%$@!#?” they yelled, the curse word they said bleeped out in real time. “Another one?! Pomni was only a week ago!”

“Zooble! Language!” Caine pointed at her with the cane in his hand. Zooble didn’t say anything.

“Okay, everyone, let’s just calm down.” A different person stepped forward. She wasn’t the shortest of the bunch—being taller than the small jester you assumed was Pomni shivering off to the side with knives stuck in her—but she wasn’t the tallest, either. Flicking a centipede off her long dress, she said, “you know how stressful this can be. Let’s just take a minute to help them adjust.”

“Come on, Ragatha.” Jax rolled his eyes.

“Who…Who are you people?” You looked around the room.

Jax put his fist on his hip and cocked his head to the side, grinning.

“Why don’t you tell me who you are?” His smile spread wider, showing off a set of yellow cartoonish teeth. It concerned you how he managed to speak without opening them.

“Jax!” Ragatha snapped.

“I’m…” you started. Jax continued to stare at you, still smiling. “My name is…”

“Can’t remember?” he finally spoke up.

You turned away from the group. With your head resting on your hand—or cymbal—you tried to think. The headache was still pounding in your head, and it was hard to formulate any thoughts. Wracking your brain for an answer for a good few minutes, your breath started to quicken. Slowly, the answer dawned upon you.

“Oh my God!” you groaned. Jax chuckled from the side. “Oh my God! What’s my name?!”

“Don’t fret, my dear.” Caine rested a hand on your shoulder. “Nobody can remember their name here! One beauty of coming to the digital world is being able to form a whole new identity for yourself! So, what would your dream name be?”

“What’s my name?” you mumbled.

Caine cleared his throat, repeating, “I said, what would your dream name be?”

“I—I don’t—uh, [Y/N]. What’s my name?” You tried to rest your face in your hands; it was uncomfortable.

“[Y/N] it is!” He spun up into the air, voice booming. Meanwhile, tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

“I just wanna go home. How do I go home?”

He cleared his throat, “well, um…There—well, there is no…Exit, per se.”

“Wh—what?!” you spluttered.

You looked at the group for answers. Instead, they looked at you with varying degrees of frowns and upturned eyebrows. Except for Jax, who grinned, and Zooble, who looked at you with a claw on his hip.

“How old are you?” they asked. “You don’t sound any older than seventeen.”

“I’m fifteen,” you replied. “How—why—why’s there no exit? How do I leave?”

“Fif—” she cut herself off. “Holy f-%$@!#, Caine! What’s your problem?!”

Caine gasped, “‘fifteen’? My, my! Finally, a real young person here to enjoy the Digital Circus!”

“What, you sayin’ I’m not young?” Jax scoffed.

Zooble groaned, multicoloured and oddly shaped antennae on her head twitching, “God, Jax, just shut up for one second. This is a child!”

“Fifteen?” a meek voice sounded from off to the side. Looking over, you saw a spring of red ribbon with ribbon legs and arms. Lying on the ground beside it was a broken mask, the same material and colour as the crying face mask it wore.

From beside them, Pomni watched. Eyes darting from person to person, she looked extremely uncomfortable with the commotion. Slowly, she backed up from the group.

“What’s going on?” she whispered. Nobody took notice.

“Okay, okay, listen!” Ragatha tried to instruct them. “Our number one priority should be making sure [Y/N] feels safe and comfortable here, not fighting with each other!”

“You’re right, Ragatha!” Caine said, voice still jolly. “Poor [Y/N] here hasn’t even gotten a tour of the grounds yet!” He lowered down to reach for your arm.

Ragatha reached out her own arm to block him, yelling, “wait! Caine, would it be alright if we did the tour later? I think [Y/N] would like to see their room first, right, [Y/N]?”

You didn’t reply. Your mind was spinning, but no longer from the headache or dizziness. While the nausea had subsided, your thoughts were swarming you. Theories and concerns flooded your brain, nagging at your conscious and slowly tearing it down. Sitting there on the ground with your head in your cymbal-hands, you swayed back and forth.

“Right. Well, I’ll let you get to that. Come on, Bubble,” he called the sphere over to him. Once it was within reach, he popped it. With that, he bowed with his top hat and disappeared in a poof of smoke, the tiger going with him.

For a few seconds nobody spoke. Looking up, you saw Zooble’s antennae still twitching while they frowned at Jax, who watched you with an open-mouthed smile. Ragatha took a deep breath and walked over to you. Holding out her hand, you took it, and she pulled you up to your feet.

“You can tell Kinger it’s safe to come out now.” She motioned to a pile of pillows behind the group. From inside popped out the head of a giant white chess piece. It wore a purple king’s robe; its uneven eyes blinked out of sync.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Y—yeah, what’s going on?” Pomni asked, still shaking.

Ragatha answered, “we’re going to take our newest friend [Y/N] to their room. Anyone want to come?”

Nobody answered, until the ribbon figure spoke up, saying, “okay.”

“Great! Come on Gangle. [Y/N], I’ll show you around.” Taking your hand in hers, she and Gangle walked towards the edge of the stage. Looking back, you saw the group watching you intently. But no sooner had you looked over at them that you were pulled away, view blocked by a black curtain.

#amy's writing #amy's fic: it's symbolic #it's symbolic chapter 1 #not requested #screaming tw #vomit tw #torture tw #injury tw #sickness tw #centipede tw #bug tw #knife tw #animal tw #swearing tw #the amazing digital circus #tadc #the amazing digital circus spoilers #tadc spoilers #tadc caine #tadc caine x reader #tadc bubble #tadc bubble x reader #tadc pomni #tadc pomni x reader #tadc ragatha #tadc ragatha x reader #tadc jax #tadc jax x reader #tadc kinger #tadc kinger x reader

[fishalthor]

Careful, boy, don’t take too much. You could burn yourself out. Let go, boy, it’s too much. - the wheel of time 2x06

#the wheel of time #wot series #wotedit #twotedit #wot on prime #rand al'thor #logain ablar #randalthoredit #josha stradowski #tvedit #wot spoilers #wot s2 spoilers #sickness tw #vomit tw #Emetophobia tw #*** #flashing lights tw

[user-without-a-cool-acronym]

sad theory/prediction, spoilers for dr season 2 ahead

So egalt is dying from the wasting sickness. According to Wyldfyre, there is no cure for it. Both Egalt and Rontu have refused to fight alongside the ninja in the past, partially because of their age and partially because of their curse that turned them to stone during the blood moon. But after the moon they returned to their normal form, so Egalt is still sick. Now they could find some way to cure this disease, maybe the elemental master of poison rumored for the summer sets(still not fully believing that‘s actually tox), maybe some magic solution. But i don‘t think they will. It just feels like it wouldn‘t fit the theme of the show. With Arin‘s parents there is still hope and it would make a nice arc for him to either eventually accept their loss or actually find them. But for Egalt, dying seems like the most logical end to his story. Maybe he simply dies from the wasting, which would be both sad and relating to the real world, where many people die from incurable diseases like cancer, thus making a connection to real children. But the most poetic way to me would be, if he went out fighting. Not the first time this would happen, the old character who knows they‘re dying, returning for one last chance before passing away, either in battle or shortly afterwards. Who knows, maybe they actually bury him on the mountain Wyldfyre made up a name for in her story to him. And then it will forever be known as mount egalt.

#ninjago #ninjago dragons rising #dragons rising season 2 #spoilers #ninjago spoilers #death tw #sickness tw #rather serious post #theory #prediction #sad post

[angelic-inamorata]

Ugh, woke up this morning super nauseous, and turns out I’m sick!!! 🙄

I mean, great opportunity to lay around girlblogging and doing nothing, but I haaaate being sick ;-;

#angelic diary ♡ #girlblogging #girlblogger #girlhood #just girly thoughts #this is a girlblog #this is what makes us girls #gaslight gatekeep girlboss #im just a girl #just girly things #girl core #just girls being girls #girlblog #girl things #girly things #girlcore #just girly posts #sickness tw #tw sick mention #tw sickness

[layla-keating]

...the best combo since Jordan and Pippen. Which reminds me... do you know who else makes a pretty great pair?

ALL AMERICAN Season 5, Episode 18: This Is How We Do It

#allamericanedit #aadaily #filmtvcentral #pocfiction #userotp #tusercarolina #tusercj #userelsbeth #userlolo #usermorgan #uservanessa #useryusi #jordan baker #layla keating #jordayla #all american #greta onieogou #michael evans behling #~ #sickness tw #not the hashtag couple goals... boi pls #inspiration: romantic. #dynamic: fm.

[icouldntfindthedoor]

Tw// vomit

König x gn and sick reader who is having a panic attack after vomiting and König tries to calm them down? I have a big fear of vomiting and when it happens I end up crying and sometimes have panic attacks. I'm curious how he'd react!

Sorry if it doesn't make sense (English isn't my first language) and have a nice day!

Oh stop, I know exactly what you’re talking about. I get terrible anxiety over vomiting as well. And your English is perfect love, don’t worry. 

First things first is König needs to make sure you’re hydrated. Whether that be through getting you a bottle of water or some ice to chew on, he’ll get it for you. 

He also gets you a cold wet cloth to put on the back of your neck, that helps with nausea (when I get terrible bad nausea this actually helps, I use one of those migraine patches on the back of my neck. Swear to God it helps.) 

If you’re not in a bathroom he’s got a bucket for you and towels and tissues. If you’re embarrassed about getting sick on him he reassures you he doesn’t give a shit about his clothes, he needs to know you’re okay. 

When you’re in a better head space later on you can joke about it. This relationship will last forever because you’ve puked on me and I didn’t care, it’s true love. 

As for the panic attack, he assures you he won’t leave you, that he’s there for you, but never says, “don’t worry.” He himself fucking hates it when someone says that to him when he’s having a panic attack so he never says it to you. If you’re in the mood to talk he’ll try to distract you with light chatter, like talking about a butterfly he saw outside earlier, or what he dreamt about the night before, just anything to keep your mind off how sick you feel. 

He never tells you to stop crying. He gets it. Sometimes you just need to cry even if it doesn’t make sense. He tells you to let it out and grabs a tissue to wipe the tears from your face. “It’s alright, liebling, I’m here.”  

If you’re alright with being touched during a panic attack, he’ll be holding your hand, or running his hand soothingly up and down your arm, maybe even giving you his mask so you can feel the material in your fingers. He knows it’s important to feel grounded during these moments, and while he himself doesn’t typically like to be touched during his own panic attacks, he’ll do whatever you need to help you through yours. 

Afterwards you’re probably exhausted and still feeling sick, so he asks if he can carry you to your room, or if you’re taller than him, you lean on him and he walks you to your room. He helps you change into comfier clothes, tucks you into bed, and if you’re okay with him staying, he takes off his boots, helmet and mask and lays next to you. He asks if you want more water or some dry crackers to settle your stomach. You say no, you just want him. 

You fall asleep curled up next to him, and when you wake up with a dry mouth and a slight headache, he’s there with some toast, a glass of water and painkillers. You joke that he’d make a very cute nurse. He huffs and says, “I’d be a very sexy nurse, you mean.” 

#könig #konig x reader #vomit tw #sickness tw #now someone draw konig in a nurse's uniform i dare you #cod #cod fandom #call of duty #reader insert

[darehearts]

*softly cries into my cup of theraflu tea* 🥴

#whatever my mom caught last week is circulating in our #house and it seems i am the next victim babes ugh!!😪✌🏻 #pls excuse me if i'm more spotty than i already am sksksk #i cough and have a headache and also am at work somehow #my biggest concern is........will i be able to take a walk today #kjskdjfskjfkjsf i am not sure if that's a good idea in the cold #also-- i will be re-opening my inbox and decide how #i'm gonna flush out my queue i have a lot of thoughts ??? #maybe that's a separate post. anyway pls take care babes #and eat fruits. take vitamins!!! #tbd #sickness tw

[normalsproutanon]

Yknow i was joking about me dying when i talked about being sick

I dont think its a joke anymore???

#DO YOU KNOW WHAT SICKNESSES INCLUDE FEVER THROWING UP AND COUGHING UP BLOOD #DO I HAVE TUBERCULOSIS OR SOMETHING WHAT IS THIS #I JUST WANTED TO GO TO SCHOOL 😭😭 #blood tw #sickness tw

[smalltownslasher]

billy hargrove x sick!gn!reader!

notes: my coworker gave me a head cold (hannah im going to Get You.) so this is very cathartic hshshs

content warnings: 2nd person pronouns (you/yours,) sickness (ofc,) and i think billy counts as a content warning in of himself/lh

he'd told you you were gonna get sick if you stood outside his window like that again.

and when you'd called him, sniffling and whining about "billy i cab't b'eathe frough my nobse-" he'd done what any good boyfriend would do.

he showed up at your house with a bag full of cough syrup, soup, tissues, the works, calling you a dumbass.

he stays in the same room with you, unless he's heating soup up over the stove, but doesn't let you touch him for fear of getting sick.

dude hates getting sick.

however, his cold shoulder will last until you pout at him, as sticky and sick as you are, and whine out a long "but bi''y im siiick!"

he's not a weak man, he's not, but when you look at him with watery eyes, whining his name in that pitifully congested tone...

he's cursing at himself and gathering you up for some cuddles.

(he gets sick too, of course he does, given he made out with you a few times 'for his troubles.' it's not nearly as bad, because his immune system is something to be reckoned with.)

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #stranger things x reader #x reader #stranger things #billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #sickness tw

[salembutnotthecat]

tw cough, implied emeto, fever, character making themselves sicker

testing the waters of illness that isnt emeto-based

Novak tossed and turned in the hotel bed, a chorus of coughs punctuating the otherwise silent room. The winter sun struggled to pierce through the curtains, casting a subdued glow on the scene. The warmth of the hotel room did little to alleviate the chill that had settled in his bones.

His head pounded with each heartbeat, a persistent ache that only intensified whenever he moved. Novak groaned, realizing that the ‘minor cough’ he had a week ago had turned into a full chest cold.

The thought of staying in bed and letting his body recover crossed his mind, but it was swiftly dismissed. The weight of responsibility hung heavy on his shoulders.

After the seizures got worse, after that game against his old team, Novak had stopped playing. But, he didn’t leave the Mavericks. He couldn’t leave them.

Instead, Coach Henderson offered him the position of defensive coach for the Mavericks, and even though Novak was still in training technically, the playoffs were no time for absenteeism. Even from him.

With a sigh, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, shivering as the cold floor met his bare feet. Novak reached for a tissue to stifle another round of coughing, his chest rattling with each exhalation.

As Novak took a shower, pulling on his Maverick sideline gear as soon as he could, his mind raced with thoughts of the game plan, defensive strategies, and the unspoken fear of failure. The idea of being perceived as weak or unable to fulfill his coaching duties gnawed at him.

“You sound like shit,” Yuliya said over the phone, after he came back to his room with something to eat and some coffee, “I assume that’s why I was your first call and not your mom.”

Novak managed a weak chuckle, the raspy quality of his voice betraying the toll the chest cold had taken on him.

“Maybe I just wanted to talk to my beautiful girlfriend,” Novak said.

Yuliya scoffed, “Yeah, I’m sure. Should I text your mom and ask her about…”

“No, please,” Novak whined softly "Marina would have a fit. She’d come to the stadium herself and kidnap me.”

“Based on how you sound, I’d help,” Yuliya commented.

“You’re so supportive,” Novak rolled his eyes.

“I love you,” Yuliya said, “I don’t want you to get sicker.”

“I’ll be fine,” Novak said, “How’s Elya?”

“She’s fine,” Yuliya says, “She knows, though. She’s six, not stupid.”

“I never said she was,” Novak said, clearing his throat.

“She wants to make you chicken soup when you come home,” Yuliya chuckled, “So that’s dinner tomorrow.”

“Well,” Novak said, “That doesn’t sound bad.”

There was a pause on the other end, filled only by Novak's labored breathing.

"Novak, seriously, are you sure about this?" Yuliya's concern was evident in her tone.

"I can't let the team down, Yules. It's the playoffs," Novak replied, taking a cautious sip of coffee. The warmth did little to soothe his raw throat, and the taste made his stomach turn from all the coughing.

"You won't be helping anyone if you collapse on the sideline," Yuliya argued.

Novak sighed, his shoulders slumping for a moment, "I can't back out now. The team needs me."

As he spoke, another fit of coughing seized him, leaving him breathless and slightly nauseous. Novak resisted the urge to let it show in his voice, not wanting to add to Yuliya's worry.

"Novak, please take care of yourself. I can hear how hard you're pushing yourself," Yuliya pleaded.

"I'll be fine. I promise," Novak assured her, despite the uncertainty that lingered in his own mind.

Yuliya sighed on the other end. "Alright, just... be careful, okay? I'll be watching the game and hoping you don't make yourself sicker."

Novak's heart warmed at her concern. "I appreciate it, Yuli. I'll do my best."

After the call, Novak took a deep breath, suppressing another bout of coughing. The determination to fulfill his coaching duties battled with the increasing fatigue and sickness within him.

As he pulled on his thick coat and wrapped a scarf around his neck, Novak's mind raced with thoughts of the game plan, defensive strategies, and the unspoken fear of failure. The idea of being perceived as weak or unable to fulfill his coaching duties gnawed at him.

-

Novak stood on the sidelines, the winter chill cutting through him as he tried to focus on the unfolding game. The cough that had been lingering seemed to intensify with each passing minute. Novak was determined to see the team through the first half.

As the action on the field unfolded, Novak found himself frequently reaching for a tissue or using his scarf to muffle his coughs. The players noticed, exchanging worried glances, but Novak waved off their concerns, unwilling to be a distraction.

The crisp air exacerbated his symptoms, and the chill seemed to seep into his bones, leaving him shivering between coughing fits.

Landon, the quarterback turned coach, approached him during a break in the game. "Novak, you look like you've been through hell. You sure you should be out here?"

"I'm fine, Landon," Novak replied, his voice strained. "Just a cold, nothing to worry about."

Landon eyed him skeptically but didn't press further, returning to the field with a lingering glance. The first half pressed on, and Novak's attempts to focus on the game were repeatedly interrupted by his coughing fits.

At halftime, the team huddled in the locker room, their breath visible in the cold air. Novak, still wrapped in his Maverick gear, tried to project an image of strength.

However, the fatigue and sickness were catching up to him, evident in the lines etched on his face and the weariness in his eyes.

The halftime break offered a temporary respite from the biting cold, but it couldn't alleviate the relentless cough that wracked Novak's body.

He retreated to a quiet corner of the locker room, the echoes of his own coughs reverberating off the walls. The taste of blood lingered in his mouth from the forceful hacking, and he pressed the edge of his scarf to his lips, dismay etched on his face.

The weight of his own vulnerability gnawed at Novak's resolve. He wanted to be a pillar of strength for the team, but the persistent coughing fit betrayed his weakened state.

Sweat beads formed on his forehead, a combination of fever and exertion, as he struggled to catch his breath between coughs.

In a moment of cruel irony, the strain on his chest triggered an unexpected wave of nausea. Novak's stomach rebelled against the repeated assaults, and he doubled over, emptying the contents of his stomach into a nearby trash bin.

The bitter taste of bile and the acrid smell filled the small space, and Novak's shoulders slumped with exhaustion and a tinge of shame.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple.

"This can't be happening," he muttered to himself, frustration and disappointment evident in his voice.

Novak had spent five years proving his resilience on the field, and the realization that a simple cold threatened to sideline him stung deeply.

As the halftime clock ticked away, Novak gathered what remained of his strength. He couldn't allow his personal battle to overshadow the team's pursuit of victory.

With a weary sigh, he straightened up and pulled himself together. The second half awaited, and Novak, despite the physical toll, prepared to return to the sideline, would not let his coaching status be brought into question.

The second half unfolded with Novak on the sidelines, the toll of his illness becoming increasingly evident. The biting cold seemed to exacerbate his symptoms, and his persistent coughing drew concerned glances from players, coaching staff, and even some of the fans.

As the game progressed, Novak's movements became slower, his reactions less sharp. The once vibrant energy that characterized his coaching demeanor waned. Despite his best efforts to conceal it, the fatigue and sickness etched across his face told a different story.

During a timeout, one of the assistant coaches approached Novak with genuine concern. "You sure you're okay, Daskalov?"

Novak mustered a weak smile, the effort to reassure both himself and his colleague evident. "Yeah, just a little under the weather. I'll tough it out."

The game continued. Novak continued doing what he did best. A particularly severe coughing fit drew the attention of the head coach, who shot Novak a worried glance.

The final whistle blew, signaling the end of the game. Novak, his shoulders slumped and forehead damp with fevered sweat, forced himself through the customary handshakes and nods of acknowledgment.

The victory was bittersweet, his contribution marred by the specter of his own deteriorating health.

As the players celebrated on the field, Novak made his way to the locker room. His movements were sluggish, and every step felt like a monumental effort. The realization that he had pushed himself to the limit for the team lingered in the air.

Once inside the locker room, Novak wasted no time. He shed his coaching attire, replaced by a hoodie and worn-out jeans. The echoes of the cheers from the field seemed distant as he gathered his belongings.

The journey home felt like an eternity. Novak's chest tightened with each cough, and the chill of the winter night seemed to penetrate his bones.

Yuliya greeted Novak at the door, her expression a mix of concern and relief. "Gosh, you look horrible…"

Novak managed a weary smile, "Well, hopefully I look worse than I feel…”

He took off his jacket, his shoes, putting them up. Yuliya doesn’t give him a second more, she’s standing on the tips of her toes with her hand to his forehead.

"You're burning up. How long have you been feeling like this?" Yuliya asked.

Novak sighed, "A couple of days. It hit hard today. But hey, the team needed me, you know?"

Yuliya frowned, "The team needs a healthy coach, Novak. Come on, let's get you to bed."

As Novak began to follow her, more ready than ever to go to bed, a sudden wave of nausea swept over him. He placed a hand over his stomach, struggling to keep the contents at bay. Yuliya, sensing his distress, rushed to his side.

"Novak, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice filled with worry.

He winced, "I've been coughing so much, it's making me sick to my stomach. Happened at halftime, too."

Yuliya's eyes widened in concern. "Why didn't you say anything? You should have come home."

"I didn't want to let them down," Novak admitted, his pride warring with his deteriorating condition, “I think I’ll be…”

Another coughing fit took over. But this time, Yuliya sees the way his eyes widen in fear. The same fear he gets when he’s going to…

“Okay,” Yuliya said, jumping into action and turning Novak around, pushing him to the bathroom as the defensive coach continued coughing harder and harder

As Yuliya guided Novak to the bathroom, the raspy coughs racked his body, each one more intense than the last. Novak clutched his chest, the struggle to catch his breath evident. Yuliya could feel the tension in his body, the fear lingering in his eyes.

"Easy, Novak. Just breathe," Yuliya urged, her hands steadying him as he leaned against the bathroom sink.

Novak took deep, labored breaths, but the coughing persisted. It felt like an unrelenting assault on his weakened body. Yuliya reached for a towel, wetting it with cold water and gently pressing it against Novak's forehead.

Novak coughed, hard, spitting water into the sink, and whatever else was in his lungs that shouldn’t be there he assumed.

"I'll be fine," Novak managed to say between coughs, though the strain was evident. He placed a hand on one of his sides, a sudden pain making itself known the harder he coughed.

Yuliya didn't buy it. "You're not fine, Novak. You're sick, and this needs to be taken seriously."

Another bout of coughing seized Novak, and as it subsided, he slumped against the bathroom counter.

His fatigue was obvious, and the struggle to breathe lingered in the air. He was gasping, slightly wheezing, and now his side was hurting, more than usual when it came to coughing.

Yuliya placed a comforting hand on his back. "You need rest, and probably a doctor. This isn't something to tough out."

Yuliya's concern deepened as Novak continued to struggle with each cough, and now, a sharp pain in his side accompanied the distress. Novak kept coughing, at one point spitting a little blood from coughing so hard. Realizing the severity of the situation, Yuliya picked up her phone and dialed Willow.

“I’m calling your high school sweetheart,” Yuliya teased.

“She’s a les… lesbian…” Novak said through the seemingly endless coughing.

Willow answered on the third ring.

“Nurse Atkinson, Saint Michael’s general hospital.” Willow said through the phone.

"Willow, it's Yuliya. Novak is really sick, and he's coughing a lot. Like I’m talking can’t breathe, spit up blood a lot. What should I do?"

Willow's calming voice came through the phone, "Is he having trouble breathing, too?"

"Yeah, he's really struggling," Yuliya replied, worry etching her voice.

"Okay, here's what you need to do. I'm at the hospital right now. Bring him in, and we'll take care of him. It's better to have a professional check him out, especially with that pain in his side.” Willow said “Plus, it'll keep things lowkey from the media if you bring him here."

Yuliya nodded, grateful for Willow's guidance. "Thank you, Willow. We'll head to the hospital right away."

As Yuliya hung up, she turned to 4Novak, who was still fighting for breath. "We're going to the hospital, Novak. Willow will take care of you." She helped him up.

-

Yuliya and Novak arrived at the hospital, where Willow met them with a teasing grin. "Novak, getting yourself into trouble again, I see."

Novak managed a weak smile, still catching his breath. "You know me, Willow. Always keeping things interesting."

Willow chuckled, leading them to a room. "Let's see what's going on. Novak, you might have some explaining to do.”

As Willow conducted tests and examinations, she kept the atmosphere light with playful banter. Novak, though feeling quite miserable, couldn't help but crack a smile amid his coughing fits.

“What kind of idiot coaches playoffs in single digit weather,” Willow questioned, light hearted, “Especially when they’ve had a cough for a week.”

“A week?” Yuliya asked, looking at Novak, “You mean to tell me you’ve been coughing like that for a week, and still went to practice and…”

“Willow is being dramatic,” Novak said, “I promise, it’s only been a few days.”

After running some tests, Willow shared the results, "Well, Novak, it seems you've got yourself a nice case of pneumonia, and those coughing fits have left you with a bruised rib. You sure can’t do anything easily..."

Novak sighed, half in relief and half in resignation. "Guess I can't avoid the occasional curveball, even in my own health."

Willow continued with her good-natured teasing, "You'll be fine, Novak. But you'll have to take it easy for a while. No more coaching in the freezing cold until you're fully recovered."

Yuliya looked at Novak with concern, her worry turning into a gentle smile as the camaraderie between Novak and Willow eased the tension in the room.

“I can’t do much. But I will give you a cough medicine, and I’ll also give you a good recommendation of some over the counter cough medicine if you don’t want something that strong, though the prescription will help better,” Willow said, “Also, I’m going to give you an inhaler, just so you don’t give Yuliya anymore heart attacks, sound good?”

Novak chuckled, "Yeah, an inhaler might be a good idea. If I’m going to send my girlfriend into cardiac arrest with my antics, I assure you, it won’t be because I have pneumonia."

“How about let’s not send me into cardiac arrest period,” Yulia said.

Willow laughed, “I wish I could tell you it gets easier. But my girlfriend is a police officer, and a stupid one at that.”

Yuliya, relieved to see some lightness returning to Novak's demeanor, smiled. “Well, we’ll take anything to keep him from pushing his luck, especially when he’s this sick."

Willow handed Novak a prescription and the inhaler, advising, "Make sure to follow the prescription, get plenty of rest, and take it easy. Yuliya, keep an eye on this troublemaker."

Novak winked at Yuliya, "Don't worry, I'll behave. Thanks, Willow."

As they prepared to leave the hospital, Yuliya couldn't help but feel grateful for Willow's care and good-natured teasing that lifted Novak's spirits even in sickness.

“You’re an idiot,” Yuliya said plainly.

Novak nodded, “Yeah. Well, I’m your idiot.”

#sickfic #fever tw #fever cw #sickness tw #sickness cw #sick novak daskalov

[hmshermitcraft]

Pearl is examined by the heroes after she visits her sister in the facility. Her dulling eyes now have a glow... Pearl cries at that. Shes... happy her sister is healing... she might not be able to form words, but this is good enough.

Later, Pearl has experiments done to her. It's found that Xornoths curse has affected her with blood powers and shadow powers and the power to merge them when the hero Rift told her to think of a weapon and Pearl formed a wolf from blood and shadow.

It's concluded that Pearl seems unaffected because Pearl is already insane... seeing your sister basically die slowly as their body shuts down can do that

part one

It's concerning, but they've already seen improvements. Pearl hasn't done anything to suggest she's dangerous, so they keep to simple supervision. She prefers being closer to her sister anyway - they both benefit from each other's presence.

Pearl is also perfectly happy to let the heroes carry out their experiments, though she sheepishly admits she doesn't understand her powers much. Magius especially spends a lot of time with her, to the point that Pearl now knows she's called Gem!

(Pearl jokes about what her hero name would be, suggesting Scarlet Pearl. Gem sighs, whilst Scott, another hero, points out your hero name isn't supposed to have your actual name in it.)

They're all still worried about Xornoth and his influence on her (though Pearl says the villain was actually pretty chill, really. Better than dealing with health insurance.) She seems to be in a much better place here, though, with a therapist and even people she considers friends! And maybe slightly more than that...

#hermitshipping #ask #gem tag #pearl tag #scott tag #pearlescentmoo tag #gempearl #mod 🎀 #violence tw #sickness tw

[penguin-cobblepot]

Ive had COVID for a week or so, so, manifesting cute green clad nerds to take care of me

#my art #gotham fanart #nygmobblepot #oswald cobblepot #edward nygma #sickness tw #COVID mention

[little-miss-selfships]

So I got the cold. that's why I was in bed all day and wasn't online as much. But I really hope it's not going to last long like it did last year in March

#planky rambles #sickness tw

[angelic-inamorata]

Update on the sickness, turns out it was actually just my period!! Newest PMS symptom: throwing up 🫶🏻

Fml :”)

#angelic diary ♡ #girlblogging #girlblogger #girlhood #just girly thoughts #this is a girlblog #this is what makes us girls #gaslight gatekeep girlboss #im just a girl #just girly things #girl core #just girls being girls #whisper girl #girlblog #girl things #girly things #girlcore #dear diary #tw sickness #tw sick mention #sickness tw #just girly posts

[playedbetter]

Continued from here / @chaosmultiverse

Something in Owen's gut twisted seeing Thad's grin. He just made a bargain with the devil, didn't he? He didn't want to think about the price or who would be paying it.

As Thad explained his plan Owen felt his blood turn to ice. Mounting horror dawning on his face. "YOU WANT ME TO DEAL WITH VANDAL?!"

He felt sick, in fact, he was sick. He bolted over to his trashcan with his speed and threw up, it was mostly beer and acid now in the can. His face was pale.

Taking a few deep breaths he turned back to Thad. "You think I've got any shot of surviving him? Bullshit. He killed Bart, and I'm a lot weaker than Bart powers wise, and I'm not sure a boomerang is going to give me the edge,"

He pulled out one of his smokes and lit it. "You're here because you need a sacrifice and thought you could con me into it with emotional manipulation and playing to my ego,"

Despite appearances, Owen did understand the games people played on him. He wouldn't be alive this long if he didn't.

"I'll still do it, and I'll try to survive the fucker. But know this isn't for you and your vendetta against the Allen's, it's because I made a promise and I'm going to keep it,"

#owen; ic #owen; thad (chaosmultiverse) #owen; main verse #plot; bloods thicker than blood #chaosmultiverse #emetophobia tw #sickness tw #alcohol tw #smoking tw #death tw