he had an exceptional looking nose too

I feel like everyone who writes Erik as having started out looking like everybody else and then gotten acid thrown at him or whatever is forgetting the legit, actual thing that existed in the 19th century (and earlier, and now) that could eat someone’s nose off and had a huge social stigma attached

Syphilis

Why do we not have a phic where Erik was a handsome young man who fell in love with someone and contracted syphilis and lost his nose because of that?

I’m ready for a syphilitic!Erik phic

flu network

i’m feeling absolutely rotten and have lost my voice, so here, have this re-write of an old, fluffy jily fic <3

shoutout to my wife @lililibird for the title

art by the beautiful @hamabee


Lily looked like death. All of the colour had washed out of her face, except for the raw, red skin underneath her nose and the tinge of purple beneath her watery eyes. 

James enveloped her in a hug, rubbing her back. “Aww, my poor little Lilykins, look at you!”

She weakly pushed away, sniffling. “Don’t come too close, I don’t want to get you sick.”

She sounded ridiculously stuffy, and he laughed as he stepped back. 

She frowned and huffed, “Or maybe I should get you sick, if you’re going to laugh at me!”

“Aw, Lils, I didn’t mean to laugh.” He draped an arm over her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “But you have to admit, you sound hilarious.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a violent sneeze that shook her whole body, and once she’d recovered from that she was too upset to reprimand her boyfriend. She just took a shaky breath in and leaned into his shoulder.

“Maybe you should go back to bed,” James said gently.

Lily pouted. “But everyone else is going to Hogsmeade.”

“You’re just going to feel miserable if you try to push yourself. It’s better for you to rest." 

She screwed her face up in annoyance, and it was obvious that he hadn’t convinced her. James glanced over at the Marauders, Mary and Marlene, who were waiting for them by the portrait hole. 

He continued, "Do you really want everyone to see you with your nose glowing like Rudolph’s?" 

She lifted her shoulders and pulled her scarf up to cover the lower half of her face, eyes wide and looking close to tears. 

James hurriedly exclaimed, "Not that you don’t still look beautiful!”

She glared at him before lowering her shoulders with a defeated sigh. “No, you’re right. I’ll just go back to bed. Have fun in Hogsmeade." 

Lily squeezed his hand and turned to go back up to her dorm.

An uncomfortable weight twisted in James’s stomach, and he ran a hand through his hair, knowing that what he wanted to do (go to Zonko’s and restock his pranking supply) and what he should do (take care of Lily) didn’t match up.

But he liked to think that he’d matured a bit over this past year, and so even though it pained him, he told the others to go on without the two of them, promising that they’d be waiting to hear all about it when they got back.

Lily smiled at him from the foot of the staircase, before she was racked by another sneezing fit, and she looked so pitiful standing there shaking that James didn’t regret his decision at all. He guided her over to the couch, re-stoked the fire, and got her to curl up with her head in his lap.

"Why didn’t you go with the others?” she asked, the question muffled as she wiped her nose with an embroidered handkerchief.

He ran a hand through her hair, picking absentmindedly at a knot. “Because you weren’t coming.”

“Yeah, but everyone else -”

“Will freeze out there, while I get to lounge by the fire with a pretty girl on my lap.”

She laughed, a snuffled, almost choked sound, and smiled at him. “I don’t look too pretty at the moment; I look more like a zombie. A snotty zombie.”

“The undead have their good points. And you may be snotty, but at least your flesh isn’t falling off. And you’re not trying to eat my brains.”

She rapped her knuckles lightly on his temple. “You’d have to have some brains in there for me to want to eat them.”

James mocked offense. “Here I am, sacrificing a day out with my friends to take care of my girlfriend, and she’s insulting me-”

“I’m sorry!” Lily turned away suddenly, sneezing and sniffling, rubbing the already raw skin under her nose and wincing in pain. “And there’s my karma.”

He rubbed her shoulders as she lay back down. “Rest, my little zombie.”

“Is that my new nick name?”

“While you look like this, yes.”

“I almost prefer carrot-top.” She pressed her lips together and wiped her watering eyes. “Maybe we should have gone to Hogsmeade, and you could have locked me up in the Shrieking Shack.”

James laughed. “Even as a zombie you’re much too pretty for that place.”

Lily went to kiss him, thought better of it, and grasped one of his hands in both of hers. “You’re the best boyfriend ever, James. Thank you.”

He tapped the end of her red nose and said with false modesty, “Just add it to my list of accomplishments.”

He couldn’t remember off the top of his head how he got there, or at least how he got into the position he was currently in. A familiar warmth was curled up on his right, but also felt his arm instinctively wrapped around someone else on his left. Kristoff opened his eyes slowly to see that he was still in the side drawing room where he had gone to sit down after the ball, except now he had both Anna and Elsa curled up with him.

The Yule ball came back in hazy memories, he obviously hadn’t been asleep for very long but his mind was trying very hard to doze off again. He couldn’t recall what the loud mouthed trade merchant from the west had said, but he remembered his blood boiling as the man laughed. There was always at least one at every party. One person, too big for their own breeches as they looked down (or up, rather) their noses at Kristoff. First it was Sven. Then Kristoff’s clothes. Then his status. Then his breeding.

Kristoff resisted running a hand over his face as it all came rushing back. The asshole had called him a mongrel, asking if Kristoff enjoyed being the royal pet. The mountain man was very much ready to split the seams of his new formal coat to punch the guy in the face, but a sudden drop in temperature stopped them both. 

Kristoff could count on one hand how many times he had seen Elsa truly angry. He didn’t know if it was the hour, or the chaotic morning, or maybe a glass too much of wine, but frost was curling out from under the Queen’s dress as she walked up to the merchant. 

It was too bad the man didn’t have a tail, it would have been wedged very nicely between his legs as he scampered off. 

Everything died down after that, both Kristoff and Elsa irate and Anna desperately trying to calm them both down. He had left them so he could cool off, not wanting to argue or start a fight, especially not with Anna, especially not tonight. 

He could hear her murmuring against his chest, bringing his attention back to the present. Kristoff couldn’t help but smile softly at how different they were. Anna was practically on top of him, where as Elsa was curled up against him, her feet hooked around one of his legs and his arm instinctively keeping her from falling backwards off the couch. 

Rude merchants and nobles be damned, these two were his family. He wasn’t fond of politics, and less so of proper etiquette, but these two crazy women made it worth it. 

Anna and her sister Elsa.

No, he corrected himself in his head. Our sister. 

My family.

I think we could all use a little sweetness and fluff right about now.


“I’m dying, Swan.”

Emma Swan gave an indulgent roll of her eyes as she dropped two pills into her pirate’s weak palm. “You’re not dying. You have a cold.”

“I am unable to breathe through my nostrils like a normal human being, ergo I am dying.”

“Those pills will help with that. It’s the real stuff.” Not that Killian knew the difference between the stuff on the shelf and the stuff behind the pharmacy counter.

He swallowed the pills down with a gulp of water and flopped pathetically back onto his pillows, his eyes drifting shut. Emma hid a smile. Who knew a centuries-old pirate captain could be felled by the common cold?

Then again, he did look like he felt miserable. He was pale except for a light tinge of pink in his cheeks. His voice was scratchy and nasally, indicating a sore throat and stuffed nose. He probably had body aches, too, because he groaned softly every time he moved.

Emma first needed to do something about his low-grade fever. She crept into the bathroom, let the cold water run for a moment, and wet a face cloth. Then she tiptoed back into the room proper and gently set the cloth on his forehead. His eyes snapped open. “Shh, it’s okay,” she whispered. “I’m just doing this until the medicine kicks in.”

“I never thought I’d see the day that Emma Swan played nursemaid,” he teased, quirking an eyebrow at her.

“Shut up or I’ll leave you to tend to your man-cold by yourself,” she replied, her smile softening the bite of the words.

“I’m wounded. I am properly afflicted with a terrible illness and you’re mocking me.”

She heaved a teasing sigh. “You need to rest. Close your eyes and go to sleep.”

“Aye, Nurse Swan.”

Since continuing to argue with him would only delay his rest, Emma decided to let that one go. She watched as he closed his eyes and tried to settle into sleep.

The cold, however, had other ideas. It was probably the body aches, as he looked like he just couldn’t get comfortable. Emma only mulled it over for a moment before lying down next to him and grasping his hand. His eyes snapped open again. “Shh,” she whispered before he could get even one questioning word out. “Just try to relax.”

“I appreciate that you’re trying to make me comfortable, love, but you’re going to get sick yourself if you stay this close.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” she said, tightening her grip on his hand. “I’ll stay as long as you need. Now close your eyes and relax.”

This time, he obeyed. And true to her word, she stayed, long after his grip on her hand went slack.

—–

Of course, a few days later it was Killian who was playing nursemaid to Emma (when Snow and David weren’t hovering, of course) during the worst of her own cold.

And it was as Killian was placing a compress on Emma’s forehead that she grasped his hand and, in a very un-Emma-like fashion, whispered, “Will you stay with me?”

He smiled as he settled down on her bed beside her, entwining his fingers with hers. “Always, love. Always.”