Fun Lil Fact, In A Reddit AMA, Genow(one Of Thr Bug Fables Devs) Confirmed Leif Is “extremely Fluffy”

One trope that I really like for Shiro is having him fall asleep somewhere when he’s not feeling well.

He comes down with a cold? After a terrible night, his throat is sore, his head hurts and he’s tired and achy as hell. He takes a sit at the sofa, lays his head back, just for a few minutes, and closes his eyes, but two hours go by, and meanwhile someone has already gone by, taken his shoes off and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders.

He injures himself? Same thing. He hadn’t been sleeping well and his body aches, and staying still feels better than moving. He wakes up a while later, pillows and blankets all around him, and he’s so comfortable, he just closes his eyes again and drifts off to sleep.

Shiro being comfortable and rested and cared for is so great.

Menina bonita do laço de fita

feito inteiramente a mão

If my heart has to be stabbed so does yours

Am I the only one that really enjoys the exhaustion part of a whump fic? Like for example:

A character has pretty bad flu/cold and it knocks down their energy reserves. So much so that they can fall asleep anywhere at any time. And while their caretaker is by their side, comforting them, they just slowly rest their head against the caretaker’s shoulder and just… doze off. Without warning. And when the caretaker wants to get up, they notice the skight weight on their shoulder and decide to stay a little longer.

A character is exhausted from either a coughing fit, sneezing fit, etc. and when they finish they slowly rest their head onto the nearest surface and the caretaker has to try and drag them up gently to their room.

Bonus points if:

The character starts to snore with heavy amounts of congestion into the mix.

The character ONLY snores when sick.

The character is usually a light sleeper, but can’t even be woken up when sick.

Reblog if you would kill for her

Let her dance

Hey! I may have already asked this (I forgot) but can your write something on whumpee-turned-caretaker? Like whumpee has the flu, and gives it to caretaker, and whumpee takes care of them even though their still sick? How does caretaker react to being comforted and coddled when their usually doing the comforting? Thanks!!

Oh yes! Here you go!

(This...got out of hand. This is one of my favourite tropes too - I did this one a little different style wise than what I usually do, hope you enjoy!)

Day One:

B comes down with something bad, and fast. But they've always been stubborn, and refuse to stay in bed until A and C all but force them. Without B's help, C is busier than normal with chores around the house, so A does most of the caretaking. Which B rejects, of course. Even too weak to sit up without shaking, they struggle to do so whenever A brings them water or medicine, continuing to use there raspy voice out of sheer spite. A tries to be patient. They're not worried yet - B is tough, and they've been through far worse than this. That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt to see their friend ill.

***

Day Two:

Stubborn though they are, B can't deny they're feeling worse than yesterday. No more trying to drag themselves into the kitchen to make their own soup, no more sarcastic remarks whenever they're asked how they feel. This time A and C switch off; with A taking over chores and C spending much of their day at B's side. B's fever worsens as the day goes on, but no matter how much A asks if there's anything they can do, C insists they're handling it. Their protests become steadily more snappish as true worry for B sets in. Outside, it starts to snow.

***

Day Three:

B's coughing keeps both of them up. A knows, lying awake in their bed, that C is still with them, comforting them and caring for them, and guilt eats away at them. In the morning, C has dark shadows under their eyes and A's concerns about them only earn them a glare or two. They take over work around the house again, feeling like a caged animal as they go back and forth through the rooms, hearing B's cough and C's gentle murmurs of response. The snow that's climbed almost up to the windows doesn't help. In the evening, they catch C starting to nod off at B's bedside, and offer to take a shift looking after them. To their surprise, C relents, giving A a rare squeeze on the shoulder before they go. After an hour of sitting at B's side, trying to ease their raging fever, A is all but exhausted. B falls asleep eventually, and soon A can't help but follow curled up in their chair.

***

Day Four:

It hits C. They don't want to admit it, but overnight they're too sick to get out of bed, let alone tend to B. They try to anyway, but A refuses to let them. A spends the day taking care of both B and C, as well as dealing with the regular household chores. It's snowing again, making the little house feel like an icebox no matter how much wood they throw on the fire. And the woodpile itself is getting low, but when A digs themselves outside to chop more wood, the snow only piles up behind them and leaves them panicking for a minute - almost unable to get back inside. With the wood they lock themselves in, not daring to set foot out into the storm again. It takes a long time for life to come back into their stiff and frozen limbs. They're up late into the night before they're finally able to sleep themselves.

***

Day Five:

A drags themselves out of bed. They work themselves to the bone - their one solace being that none of their patients are hungry, and neither are they. Nevertheless, there's plenty of work to do even without preparing food. All the while the snow continues to build up outside. B is feeling better, but is still too weak to be out of bed for very long, and A won't allow them to get worse again. C sleeps through most of the day, and when they're awake they're miserable, no matter how much they try to hide it. They ask A for nothing, but it only worries A how much their normally sharp manner is gone. And how feeble their voice is when they do manage to speak. Despite their own sickness and exhaustion, C convinces A to go to bed early. By the time they make it to their room their head is swimming with tiredness, and no matter how much water they drink they can't seem to get rid of the dryness in their throat.

***

Day Six:

All day A feels like they can barely stay awake, like they never woke up in the first place. Their head spins and the floor rocks gently under them, as if they stand on the deck of a ship. No matter how many sweaters they pull over their head, they can't seem to get warm. B tries to get up and help them, but can do little more than shuffle tiredly around the house and A doesn't want them overexerting themselves. C is still exhausted and weak, and gives A instructions on how to be cared for even from their own sickbed. A carries them out no matter what, even when their own bones feel like they might crumble if they take another step. The whole world looks and feels like they're watching it from inside a fishbowl full of water, and though it pains them they have to ask C to repeat their instructions several times before they fully understand.

***

Day Seven:

All night A lies freezing and aching in their bed, unable to sleep for even a minute. In the morning they have to force themselves to get up, their head pounding and eyes sore in the too-bright light. A cough gnaws at their chest. But they have to take care of the others. To their surprise C is out of bed too, they're shaky on their feet but insist on helping out with some of the chores. B spends the day resting. Halfway through the day A finds themselves no longer able to stand, their knees suddenly turning to water and giving out under them. By the time they hit the floor, they've only just understood what's happening. In less than a minute a familiar figure is my their side, looking anxiously down at them. C, their eyes still ringed with exhaustion. A can't seem to form words. But C understands without any, helping them back to their feet with a gentle word and a steady hand on their back. On trembling legs and with their vision blurring they're hardly able to make it to their room. They do, though, C at their side the whole time. They're shaking all over by the time they're in bed, and when C tucks their blankets around their shoulders a wave of humiliating weakness overwhelms them and they start to cry uncontrollably. All those days of taking care of their friends without fail, hardly tiring, and now they're sick too. C shushes them, brushing the hair back from their face until their tears slow. They're so hot and so cold and their skin hurts, and they can't believe they're finally falling apart. Don't B and C still need them? Shouldn't they still be fighting? But they can't fight anymore. All the strength has gone out of them. They can't do anything more now than lie where they are and allow C to speak softly to them, the waves of their voice carrying them away into soft darkness.

***

Day ?:

They don't know how long they lie there, slipping in and out of a feverish sleep. Soon they're hot again, and have to toss away the blankets smothering them. They dream of scratching claws and flapping wings, of a scorching sun followed by icy cold water that drowns them. When they wake up they're gasping for air and freezing cold, drenched in sweat and shivering violently in their blankets. A hand brushes against their cheek and their teeth chatter so hard they're afraid they might break. C's voice shushes them gently, soothing words just at their edge of hearing. Another blanket is pulled over them, and something bitter slipped between their lips on a spoon. A thin, disturbed sleep takes them once again. When they next wake, their fever dreams dissipating in a mist, they think they're seeing ghosts at first. But after they flinch away from them, the smoky grey figures turn into something recognizable - the tired and worried faces of both B and C at their bedside. They try to sit up but the bed under them rocks and their arms turn to jelly, and soon two pairs of hands are pushing them back down to their pillow. Right away they try to protest, feeble words coming from them about how the other two are still recovering and should be careful, how they'll be all right, they just need a bit of rest, how it's their job to take care of everyone else - not the other way around. It's not long at all until they talk themselves into exhaustion. Embarrassing, unstoppable tears run from the corners of their eyes, knowing they've lost. B cracks a weak joke that would make them smile if they weren't so miserable. C lays a tender hand on their cheek, telling them they've done enough. More than enough. Telling them B an C are more than grateful, and couldn't have asked for better care. It's A's turn, now.

Bugtober Day 30: Nightmare

he needs a hug

So I know I have a thousand prompts to fill, and I apologize to all of you who’ve sent me a request forever ago.  I fully intend on working on them once I’m on winter break (in about three weeks).  Anyways, here’s a prompt fill for anon, I hope you don’t mind a college AU and that you feel better soon <3

*

It starts with a sneeze - it’s a scratchy, just barely congested sneeze that signals the beginning of a cold.  It’s the kind of sneeze that tears Allura’s attention from her textbook to her husband who’s been lying on the couch with a blanket, watching Netflix through half-lidded eyes for the last two hours.  

“Bless you…you okay?”

He sniffles, shivering lightly as he shrugs.  He’s not - he’s felt awful all day - but those five words feel like they’ll take too much effort to get out, so he resigns to just shrugging with the hope she’ll pick up on it and come sit with him.  

Allura stands up from the table and walks over to where he’s laying, presses a cool hand to his forehead and then purses her lips.  

She flips her hand over so that she can run the back of her fingers up and down his cheek, “you seem warm…but not worryingly so.”

His breath hitches and he turns his head to muffle not one, not two, but three sneezes into the sleeve of his sweatshirt.  

“Mmmngh…Allura,” he rasps, voice shredded and congested beyond belief.

“No wonder you’ve been so off lately.  You sound awful, want some tea?”

“No…I just want to go to bed,” he whispers, rubbing at his throat with a grimace.

“Medicine and water first,” she says, leaning down to kiss his forehead.  

Shiro rubs at his nose, and then ducks his head into the blanket with a sharp sneeze that makes his head throb.  He sniffles, and pushes himself into a sitting position with a yawn before he pads into the kitchen, over to where Allura is rummaging through their stash of medication.

“I don’t need medicine,” he croaks, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on the top of her head, “I’m fine.”

“Shiro, you sound miserable.”

He sniffles pitifully, and twists away from her to sneeze twice into his shoulder.  

“See? You need sleep, and you won’t be able to if you’re sneezing all night.”

“Sleep is for the weak.”

She rolls her eyes, “not sleeping is what got you into this mess. Go lie down, I’ll be there in a minute.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but the buzzing in his sinuses distract him, and he stumbles backwards and slams into the counter as he goes into a sneezing fit.  

After the fifth sneeze, he groans and wipes at his nose with a miserable, stuffy sniffle, and Allura quirks a brow, “you are a hazard, go lie down before you hurt yourself.”

He groans and slides to the floor, holding his head in his hands, “give mbe a mbindute…dizzy.”

She crouches in front of him, and puts a hand on his cheek.  She frowns and flips her hand to feel his forehead, “I think I know why…your fever spiked…how the hell? You didn’t seem nearly this warm a few minutes ago.”

He groans and blinks rapidly, trying to clear the dots that are clouding his vision,  “I wandt to go to bed.”

“Do you think you’re going to pass out, or are you okay to move?”

“I’mb okehh…heh…Nngtsh! In’gsTCH! *snff*”

“Bless you,” she frowns, helping him stand up.

*

Three days later, Shiro and Allura are in bed. Shiro’s been awake for hours, and he already knows that he’s not getting up today, again.  Everything is aching, and he feels too tired to move, let alone get out of bed and go to work.  He already texted his boss that he wasn’t making it in, and then he promptly tossed his phone onto the ground, because the light was agitating his headache.  

Part of him is tempted to wake Allura up, because he’s miserably stuffy and has been muffling coughs and sneezes for the better part of the last three hours.  It’s only about six, though, and she was exhausted when she fell asleep, and he doesn’t want to bother her.  

“Ihh…ihhtchiew! *snff*”

Shiro’s watery eyes snap to his wife’s sleeping form, and when she starts coughing, he puts a hand on her back.

“Allura?” He rasps, “baby, are you okay?”

She groans and flips around so she can bury her face in his chest, “m’tired.”

“Yeah, mbe too,” he croaks, but looks down and strokes her hair, “I cand feel how warmb you are through mby shirt…I think you have a fever.”

She groans, “everything kinda hurts.”

“Sambe here…you sound awful, by the way.”

She coughs again, shivering as she presses closer to Shiro.

“I feel awful.”

“I’mb sorry, Allura,” he groans, “this is all mby fault.”

“Don’t blame yourself…it was going to happen sooner or later.”

He sniffles, “‘kay…wannda mbove to the couch?”

~

“Shiro, we need to call someone,” she rasps, voice shot from all the coughing.

“I kndow,” he groans, muffling another scratchy and congested sneeze into his shoulder.  

Allura coughs miserably, slumping into Shiro even more than before.  She pulls the blankets up to her chin, and pulls her knees to her chest.  Shiro’s head drops back, and he stares up at the ceiling, sniffling incessantly.  Although it seems his fever had gone away for now, he still felt exhausted.  He wraps his arm around her shoulders as she coughs, and stretches his legs out to rest on the coffee table.  

Shiro had managed to make them tea before collapsing onto the couch in exhaustion.  He was spent, and the short walk from the bedroom to the couch had exhausted Allura beyond belief.  Allura is fading fast and needs medicine, and his head is so stuffy and he’s so fuzzy, he knows he needs medicine, too.  

“Call Lance,” she croaks, “or Hunk…I really don’t feel well, Shiro.”

“I kndow,” he sniffles, “we’ll get you feeling better, I prombise.”

She’s half asleep when he dials Lance’s number, so he balances the phone between his ear and shoulder so he can rub her back with one hand and play with her hair with the other.

“Hey, Shiro, what’s up?”

He sniffles, “would you mbind doing us a f-feh…heh…Hih’ihGNXT!”

The phone falls to his lap, and Allura jerks awake as he mutters a string of curses.  

“Wha-?”

“Sorry, hondey,” he mutters stuffily, sniffling miserably.  He raises the phone back to his ear with a grimace, “Landce?”

“Are you dying? You sound like hell.”

“We’re both sick, guh *snff* would you mbind doing us a favor?”

“Yeah, sure.  What do you need?”

“Umb…just…we’re too tired to get up, but Allura ndeeds mbedicinde, and we ndeed tissues and stuff, could you combe and help us?”

“Shit, you guys are too sick to get up?”

“Yeah…we tried, but-”

“-I’ll be there in a few. Try not to die until then.”

“Thanks, Landce.”

“Of course. See you soon.”

Shiro hangs up the phone, drowsiness hitting him like a brick wall as he feels himself beginning to drift off.

The last thing he remembers is Allura coughing and the door opening, and then, nothing.