Thinking About Scenarios Where The Caretaker Acknowledges The Sickie's Empty Stomach/appetite A Short

I still thrive off these three regularly.

We obviously love the stoic character becoming a bit soft and vulnerable when they get sick.

But. What about a stoic, stern, cynical character, who becomes soft and vulnerable when someone else is sick? Forehead feels, deep frowns, troubled sighs through their nose, unnecessarily worried glances.

How’s… the cold? in a strangely tense, uneasy tone.

Better…

A hand on the forehead. Liar. You have a fever. And you don’t sound better at all. Chewing their lip, looking away. Almost angry. Helpless. So vulnerable.

This or That Gothic Snippet 8- Bedridden

This is also a continuation of gothic snippet 4- winter forest.

Inspired by my answers for this post by @blackrosesandwhump!

Whumpee sneezed for the third time in a row, sending little snowflakes floating around the room.

“Lunchtime, Whumpee!” Caretaker called.

Caretaker entered Whumpee’s room, carrying a tray with a bowl of soup and a steaming mug of tea.

“I made it myself,” Caretaker said proudly.

“Thanks,” Whumpee sniffled.

Caretaker set the tray on Whumpee’s lap and sat on the end of their bed. Whumpee picked up a spoonful of soup and blew on it to cool it. Whumpee didn’t account for their frost breath, however, so instead of merely cooling the soup, they ended up freezing it solid.

“Here, let me,” Caretaker said, taking the spoon and blowing on it.

Caretaker’s fiery breath thawed the soup and warmed it to a perfect temperature. Whumpee took the spoon back gratefully and slurped down the soup. The warm liquid felt soothing on their sore throat.

When Whumpee had finished eating, Caretaker took the tray and set it on the bedside table.

“I still don’t understand how I got sick in the first place,” Whumpee croaked.

“You were hypothermic for quite a while, Whumpee, I’m sure that had something to do with it,” Caretaker responded.

Caretaker put a hand to Whumpee’s forehead and frowned at the heat they felt there. Whumpee’s ice powers kept them colder than most, but right now they felt warmer than even a normal person.

“I think you might have a fever,” Caretaker said.

Whumpee shivered under the covers; their powers were still malfunctioning from the other day, and they were no closer to getting warm than they were to getting better.

“Would you like me to warm you up?” Caretaker asked.

“Could you?” Whumpee asked pitifully.

Caretaker nodded, then scooped Whumpee up into their arms. They bundled a blanket around Whumpee and concentrated on spreading their heat throughout their body. There was the distinct sound of a sigh of relief from Whumpee. Steam filled the room as Caretaker hugged Whumpee close.

“I think you might have thawed me out,” Whumpee laughed tiredly.

“Oh no, is that bad?” Caretaker asked, brows furrowed.

“No, no,” Whumpee said, “I typically freeze back up within an hour or so, and with my powers on the fritz I’m sure that’ll happen even quicker than usual.”

Whumpee threw off the covers and went to stand up.

“Woah, what are you doing?” Caretaker asked, pushing them back down.

“I-I just wanted to help put my bowl away,” Whumpee said sheepishly.

“Uh-uh,” Caretaker said, shaking their head, “If you stood up now, you’d probably fall over. No, you’re not leaving this bed until you’re better.”

“But you’ve already done so much,” Whumpee argued, “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“If you were going to be a bother, I wouldn’t have rescued you in the first place, silly. Now stay put. I’m gonna go put this bowl in the sink.”

Caretaker grabbed the tray from the bedside table and left the room. Whumpee sighed and burrowed deeper into the covers. Caretaker was probably right, anyway. Whumpee had felt weak all day, if they tried to stand up, they’d probably collapse on the spot. It looked like they were stuck in this bed until their powers, and their fever, decided to calm down.

part 3

Bugtober

Day 2: Suspicious

Caretaker dialogue, feel free to add to the list

"I think you have a fever, you feel warm"

"Bless you, you sound congested"

"Sounds like you're losing your voice"

"That cough sounds horrible"

"Can I help you?"

"You need medicine"

"Feeling any better?"

"Do you need anything?"

"Here, this will make you feel better"

"Are you cold?"

"What's bothering you? What hurts?"

"Maybe I should take you to the doctor..."

"Let me take a look"

"You need rest"

"Let's get you to bed"

"I don't like the sound of that"

"Save your voice"

"Blow your nose, you'll feel better"

"I know you're not feeling well, I'm sorry, I wish there was more I could do for you"

"103? ...no wonder you feel so bad, come on we need to do something about this"

"It's okay, you can't help it"

"Have you been sneezing this much all day?"

"You must be exhausted"

"You sleep okay? No? Looks like you could use a nap"

"Good job"

"When did you start feeling sick?"

“oh your poor thing” is such a versatile statement and it makes me melt in any situation

feeling for a fever and their forehead is really warm? “oh you poor thing, you have a fever”

they just sneezed and it sounded miserable/tired/wet? “oh you poor thing, need any tissues?”

or, even better, they just got finished with a coughing fit but they have to sneeze a few times “oh you poor thing, you must feel misreable/you must be really sick”

i just 💕💕

"you never drink tea" for the sickfic prompts? :D

Takes place sometime after ep 12 in Russia

1200~ words

～～～

From across the rink, Yuuri scrutinizes the item held in Victor’s hands. The logo of Victor’s favourite cafe is displayed on the front of it, the familiar design revealing it is one of the special filtered tea mugs Victor loves to gush about. While the sight of him clutching a travel mug at morning practice is not an unusual one, seeing it now has Yuuri slowing to a stop on the ice as he gets a better look at his coach.

It’s not that Victor doesn’t like tea. It’s far from an odd occurrence for Victor to bring a thermos with him to stay energized through practice and warm against the chill of the cold winter weather.

Only now there is no chill, as it’s the middle of spring.

“Tired already, Yuuri?” Victor calls, his wide smile conveying the quip about Yuuri’s stamina that he doesn’t voice.

Yuuri narrows his eyes at Victor, paying his comment no mind. “You never drink tea,” he says accusingly.

For a moment, Victor looks like he’s taken off guardーalmost as if he were caught in the actーbut he quickly composes himself. “I do sometimes,” Victor replies simply, taking a sip rather nonchalantly.

“Yeah,” Yuuri says. “When it’s freezing outsideーwhich it’s not right now. Or when you need the caffeine, or when your throat is really bothering you because you’re sick.”

That causes Victor to flinch, and Yuuri knows he’s right.

“It’s nothing,” Victor dismisses with a wave of his hand and a smile practiced to perfection. “I’m just a bit tired. I didn’t sleep too well last night is all.”

Yuuri is well aware of the fact. Victor had been doing nothing but tossing and turning. Yuuri is surprised to hear he got any kind of rest at all.

It’s obvious to Yuuri that Victor is sick. Or at the very least coming down with something. While it’s likely not obvious to anyone else, the signs are all there. It’s not even just the mug of tea, it’s the fact that Victor tried to hide it from Yuuri. He had prepared it and packed it in secrecy, much like he had hid his illness the first time he had been sick in their relationship. Yuuri would have thought that by now that Victor wouldn’t try to do these things on his own.

Yuuri is tempted to advise they cut their practice short, that they go home and Victor rests, but he knows the idea will be shot down the moment he suggests it. Plus, as much as Yuuri hates to admit it, Victor’s condition isn’t bad enough to warrant sentencing him to bedrest. At least not yet.

So instead he settles for letting Victor have his way for a while, and pretends he doesn’t notice when Victor turns away to cough into the crook of his elbow.

Yuuri runs through his routine again and again, until the movements become more natural than breathing. Victor gives his compliments and critiques, each one sounding more tired and strained than the last. Yuuri still doesn’t voice his concern, knowing even now it will fall on deaf ears.

He loses himself in his skating, until the ice feels like it’s moving beneath his feet, as if it were the one dancing for him, rather than the other way around. The sharp slice of his blades echoes in his ears, the crisp and cool rink air fills his lungs with each heavy breath. He pushes himself harder, thoroughly enjoying every minute of it, until thoughts about Victor’s steadily deteriorating condition are all but forgotten.

He comes to a finish in the centre of the ice, breathing hard, feeling confident about a performance well done. He had landed every single jump, even the quad flip, though the landing was a bit shaky which he doubts Victor will let slide. His spins were tight, his step sequence was remarkable as always. Though Victor insists there is always room for improvement, and Yuuri is ready to hear where he should start.

But surprisingly there is no such input from Victor. Only silence. Puzzled, Yuuri turns and looks for his coach and finds him plucking a number of tissues from the plush poodle and blowing his nose into them.

A pang of annoyance surges through Yuuri. Victor just missed a near-perfect run through of his routine. (Even perfect run throughs are near-perfect to Victor.) But then, as Victor emerges from behind the cover of the kleenex, Yuuri feels all of his annoyance melt away into pity.

Even from a distance, Victor’s nose is noticeably red. His eyes (which have yet to notice Yuuri staring) lack the usual sparkle, and there are dark smudges underneath them. Victor sniffles, stuffing the used tissue into the pocket of his jacket, then wraps it more tightly around himself as he visibly shivers. His overall form broadcasts his exhaustion, the tired sigh he releases further proving that point.

“Victor?” Yuuri calls, causing Victor to snap his head up.

His cheeks are flushed, which could easily be from embarrassment at the realization he had missed Yuuri’s routine. Though judging by everything else Yuuri has witnessed, he’s willing to bet Victor is running a fever.

Victor’s posture changes in an instant. He straightens up and takes his hands out of his pockets, forcing a smile that Yuuri sees right through.

“Ah, sorry Yuuri. I got a bit distracted for a minute there,” Victor says with a lighthearted laugh, as if that will distract Yuuri from how hoarse his voice sounds. “I’m sure your routine was lovely! Though I wouldn’t be opposed to seeing you do it again. I’m confident you have the stamina.”

Yuuri has had enough. He makes his way over to the boards where Victor is. “Maybe I do, but you don’t.”

Victor blinks, still acting innocent. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re obviously sick,” Yuuri points out.

“It's… just a little cold,” Victor relinquishes, his voice quiet and sheepish. “I can still coach you. I’m fine,” Victor insists, or at least he tries to; his breath catches and he sharply turns away to sneeze before he can finish his sentence.

As Victor groans and reaches for a tissue to blow his nose yet again, Yuuri picks up the mug of tea and hands it to him. Victor accepts without a word, takes a sip, then heaves a sigh as he sets the drink down.

Yuuri takes Victor’s hand in his and runs his finger over where the ring is. It’s covered by his glove, and that is another dead giveaway to Yuuri that Victor is well and truly sick: he never passes up an opportunity to flash their engagement rings. He must really be chilled.

“Come on. Let’s get you home,” Yuuri says.

He expects Victor to argue, to insist he’s okay to keep coaching, despite all evidence pointing to the contrary. But Victor must either be feeling that bad, or perhaps he can’t find it in himself to resist Yuuri’s sweet charms, because he just smiles, adoration written all over his features, and lets Yuuri lead him by the hand to the benches.

～～～

Prompts can be found here!

Bugtober Day 30 - Nightmare

I’ve accepted the fact that I’m going to be a day behind on these. Ah, well.

What are the odds of everyone having a nightmare on the same night?

Dialogue Prompt

“Seriously, you’re starting to scare me.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Well, you don’t look fine.”