sickfic headcanons (bc who doesn’t love good old fashioned sickfics)
Whizzer never admits to being sick. He’ll suffer through it and be grumpy, but he will never give in and say that he’s sick. He drinks tea and takes aspirin behind Marvin’s back.
But Marvin is more gentle when he can tell if Whizzer is sick. He tries getting him to rest or see a doctor. He buys him cold medicine that never gets used. He gets a little closer to Whizzer to comfort him, stroking his hand and hair and holding him closer at night. He’s patient and soft.
And Marvin never gets sick more than once a year, but he always gets the worst flus that keep him down for a few days. Whizzer is very doting and adores the chance to take of Marvin even if he does feel bad for him.
Jason, like Marvin, hardly gets sick. Sometimes he gets sick while staying with Marvin and Whizzer.
Whizzer’s heart swells when he sees Marvin taking care of Jason. Marvin tucks him in bed and strokes his hair and talks to him until he falls asleep. If Jason can’t sleep Marvin stays up with him, and once he falls asleep Marvin will get up during the night to check on him.
Greetings, Yagen~! So...we all know that the stomach flu is horrible, but what happens when your Saniwa catches the bug? What if they try and work through it, insisting that as long as a bucket is nearby they'll be fine? Has anyone else in the Citadel come down with the sickness? What even happens in the Citadel for the week that Stomach McDeathFlu makes its rounds? As a child, I used to get the stomach flu every year around my birthday, so I'm quite interested to hear your stories. Ciao~!
I’m sorry to hear about your illnesses. I understand birthdays have particular significance, especially for children, and being sick at that time is a sad thing indeed.
Taichou hasn’t come down with the stomach flu in the time that I’ve known her, but I believe I know her well enough at this point to guess what her reaction would be. She would hide in her office and try to get all of her paperwork done without letting us know she was sick, but no matter who she chooses as her secretary he’d end up letting it slip to either me or Hasebe that she wasn’t well. Either way would end the same. Hasebe would harry her until she relented and returned to her bedroom (he would carry her if need be), where I would be waiting with medicine and water. Then we’d stand guard with the help of a few other swords not to protect her from outside dangers but from herself. Once she was rested and well enough to return to work we would let her but I would continue to monitor her until I was certain she was healthy and hydrated again.
We’ve had a few bouts with various types of flu. I’ve mentioned before that Shishiou proved to be a vector of infection once. He caught the flu on an expedition, then infected me, several of my brothers, Nikkari, Kasen, and then somehow Nihongou caught it as well once most of us were recovering and he spread it to Otegine. Since they were the last to get it we turned their room into an isolation chamber until they were better. Tonbokiri slept in the dojo until we were sure he hadn’t caught it as well.
It was very hard to treat my patients while I was very sick myself. Ishikirimaru and, despite his more distant personality, Taroutachi stepped up and did their best to help while I was ill. Having them around while I felt terribly sick was really quite soothing and I credit their healing aura for my speedy recovery.
Let’s say aliens are real, and let’s say we communicate with them, and let’s say they find out about this weird internet thing where humans write little mini stories about future human interactions with aliens.
Can you imagine how fucking confused and concerned they would be? These two-legged assholes who were so enamored with the concept of meeting other intelligent species, even though for the longest time they had NO CONCLUSIVE PROOF that said other species exist, that they wrote stories about those other species, to the point of making up creatures and systems of mood communication and names for their made up aliens?
Which brings me to my Great Theory About The Purpose Of Storytelling: it’s practice. We tell stories about that time we had the flu really bad to practice getting the flu with our friends so we all know how to properly manage the symptoms. We tell stories about our children to practice dealing with their unpredictability. We tell stories about war and famine and pestilence to practice dealing with disaster. And we tell stories about aliens to practice etiquette for dealing with aliens.
We tell stories of our own ferocity and ingenuity to practice for the day we have to either defend our planet or invite ourselves into an alliance. We tell stories of our aggressive pack-bonding to practice bonding with creatures that are literally alien to us. We tell stories about trading chores for passage on space ships to practice Just Because They’re Aliens Doesn’t Mean You Can Be Rude.
And of course, if we can practice bonding and cooperating with creatures that may not even breathe oxygen, we can practice bonding and cooperating with each other.
Commission for @slowmovingsloth of her Asteria Shepard with Thane <3 finally they got to go on a goddamn shore leave. (needless to say that a commission like this is something that completes me entirely hahaha c:)
I was doing you a favor by playing the long game...
I too was playing yet another long game by holding on to this for so long.
SO I had read earlier today the owner of a previous job of mine passed away. This was a place that tried to screw me pretty hard and I took some pro revenge on. It drug up some angry old feelings, so why not take an equal dose of catharsis?
WARNING: This is a doozy so strap in if you dare, no TL;DR it wouldn’t do justice.
So this takes place almost a decade ago. I was working as a department manager for a fairly large privately owned pest control company. Their color scheme was black and yellow, much like the taxi’s the owner’s dad used to drive. Since the taxi industry would be around for ever(hello Uber/Lyft) so would this pest control company, (this is important later) or so the owner used to parrot constantly. My job was to over see the techs doing treatments and set their stops and generally manage assorted insect control services, inventory, payroll for that dept, etc etc. I had taken the job from the owners son who took it from the previous manager who they demoted and yet stayed in the dept…this is important later. The owners son was a late 30’s early 40’s man child. I mean if he had dialed it back a few degrees he would have been an awesome guy, but anytime booze was involved he was a mess. If it was weed, he turned into the stereo typical obnoxious stoner making nothing but bad Jamaican accented jokes. He also hit on anything younger than him that moved…while being married w a pregnant wife. But I digress, the owner was a piece of work too, old Jewish guy who was as racist as he was old, not with any kind of seething hatred. Just a “this is the way it is” type attitude. My fave line of his, “The sky is blue, Ch#@ks know math, N@&ers are lazy, Jews know gold. What else is new” Like it was the most clever thing of all time. Finally now on to the revenge and need for such.
Being a menstruating human is the fucking worst thing.
• sad for no reason
• mad for no reason
• get pissed at sounds
• eat everything
• feel sick and eat nothing
• feel like you’re getting the flu once a month
• bags of flesh hanging off your chest that feel like sunburnt bruises being crushed in a vice.
• monthly cystic acne
• your lower back feeling like it’s trying to turn itself inside out.
• hate yourself
• hate others