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I don’t talk enough about how hot A/lastor would sound when he’s losing his voice
Like. I go insane any time his voice gets low and husky, but imagine when he’s sick and his voice is all rough and gravelly- I would melt on the spot probably
All he has to do is talk in a low voice and I’d do anything for him. He’d have my soul so fucking fast 😭
And of course him being so stuffy he can’t pronounce things right would be so cute
If they're both sick, V/ox will still try to take care of A/lastor instead of resting, and A/lastor will claim that he's getting better faster than he really is
Vincent denying being sick, being snippy at anyone mentioning that he might be sick, overworking himself, bringing work home, not even looking up when Alastor tries to talk to him... so Alastor uses the five minute thermometer wait to refocus Vincent's attention.
Vincent waves him away, like shooing off a fly, when Alastor strides back into the kitchen where Vincent is working, obsessing over the schedules and contracts he brought home from work, mumbling to himself between sniffles and coughs. "I'm fine," he grumbles.
Alastor shakes the thermometer down with a couple sharp snaps of his wrist. "Well, if you're fine then this will tell us, won't it? Surely you can take five minutes to prove me wrong."
Vincent doesn't even acknowledge him. So Alastor hooks a finger under Vincent's chin, to tilt his chin up and establish eye contact, and Vincent snarls at him, eyes wild. "I don't have time for it, Alastor."
Alastor's eyes darken and his grip on Vincent's chin tightens. They stare at each other, tension growing thicker, until Vincent seems to come back to himself. He tries to pull away, not to return to work but to create more distance between him and Alastor.
Alastor doesn't let him, but he relaxes himself, waving off the physical manifestations of his annoyance with a twirl of the thermometer. "You can take five little minutes away from work."
Vincent's eyes drop down to the paperwork and Alastor's grip on his chin tightens again until he looks back up. "There we go," chirps Alastor, moving his hand so that it more gently cups Vincent's cheek. He slips the glass rod into Vincent's mouth and marks the time on his watch.
Vincent stays quiet for all of ten seconds. "This is stupid," he grumbles.
Alastor pulls the thermometer from his mouth. "Every time you talk we have to start over," he says disappointedly as he shakes the thermometer down. Vincent glowers at him as Alastor inserts the thermometer again but he stays quiet. Alastor's thumb brushes over his cheek. "Good."
Vincent lasts nearly a minute before he shifts, angling his body to reach for his pen, attention moving back to his paperwork.
Alastor snatches the thermometer from between his lips.
"I didn't say anything!" Vincent whines.
"You moved," Alastor replies airily as he shakes the thermometer down again. "You wouldn't want to artificially increase your temperature, would you? When you're trying to prove how well you are?"
Vincent boggles at him.
Alastor pops the thermometer back in between his parted lips. "You'll sit still and let it regester properly. Unless you never want to get back to work."
Vincent looks like he wants to say something, but he just huffs resignedly instead.
Alastor marks the time on his watch and then cups both hands around Vincent's face, taking a good look at him.
He removes Vincent's glasses, noting how glassy his eyes are before sweeping his thumbs across the dark bags under them. Vincent's eyes flutter shut, only to pop back open when Alastor presses down over his sinuses. Alastor shushes him before he can make any noise and holds his head firmly so he can't pull away. Then he moves up to press his thumbs along Vincent's eyebrows, massaging between them where he knows Vincent gets his headaches.
Vincent winces but doesn't move or make a sound. If anything he allows Alastor to take more of his head's weight.
Alastor moves to Vincent's ears, rubbing behind them where they often hurt when Vincent has a head cold, and then slides his hands down around Vincent's neck. He finds every tender and swollen gland as Vincent gazes hazily at him. Alastor makes a sympethtic noise and he slips his hands to the back of Vincent's neck to knead at the rock hard muscles there.
Vincent gradually relaxes, shoulders drooping as he leans into Alastor's touch. He blinks slowly, fighting to keep his eyes open, and sniffles once as his nose begins to drip.
Alastor presses his lips to Vincent's forehead before pulling back and easing the thermometer out of his mouth. He clicks his tongue. "Oh dear, nearly one hundred and two."
Vincent whimpers and leans forward, resting his face against Alastor's middle, practically begging to be touched again. Alastor rewards him with one hand stroking his hair while the other rubs his back.
"Do you want me to put you to bed?" Alastor asks and Vincent nods against him. His breath hitches and he sneezes, not bothering to pull away, and mumbles a muted and congested "sorry".
"No apologies for being sick," Alastor coos, fingernails scraping against Vincent's nape. "And you are sick, aren't you sweetheart?"
Vincent nods against him again and Alastor helps him to stand, arm wrapping around his middle, and guides him away from the forgotten pile of paperwork.
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imagining cold sneezes so fatigued that there’s no vocalization or far-spraying pressure behind it, it becomes just a nose blow with slightly more force and less predictability <3
an allergy sneezing fit where the mess starts off super runny and watery, like it’s mostly just from their itchy, teary eyes. and as they sneeze. and keep sneezing. the mess gets thicker, their nose working so hard to remove the irritation.
"Oh dear, you're in a bad way." And it's said with such tenderness that his eyes begin to burn and blur. "Oh, no... I've upset you."
He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut so that the tears don't spill over. It's futile. They work their way through anyway.
"But I have." A cool palm sweeps across his forehead, brushing back the hair before it comes to rest for a moment against the hot, tight skin. "Now, tell me what's wrong."
Someone bursting into tears at the mere mention that they don’t seem to be feeling well. They’ve been trying to hide it for so long that the tender acknowledgment from a loved one is all it takes to unlock the flood of emotions they’ve been suppressing all day.
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Contagion clinic sickie who's been so stuffed up they can't sleep let alone snz.
They've been up for days barely getting 4 hours of sleep.
So when they come in with dark circles under their eyes and their nose very red and may be very visible congested. Its no surprised that the doctor's treatment it a nice long inducing session.
They start off with massaging their sinuses and the bridge of the patient's nose that crinkles under the physician's touch.
Maybe the doctor tilts their head up to 'get a good look
and yup poor thing is absolutely stuffed tight with that awful cold.
So they get started, applying some sensitivity lotion-that also increases with mess production- Gently rubbing it along their septum and nostrils, then up the base of their nose.
Each movement causes a squishing noise of all that congestion
They give it a few minutes til the patient starts to complain of an awful tingling buzzing in their nose. A nurse then hands the doctor a swap that has lil feather like fronds along it to which the doctor circles along the patient's nostrils and then pushes inside one of them.
Lil gasps and hitches follow suit as the frons sweep and brush along the red, sensitive insides. THeir nostrils flare widely and a congested blunt snz comes, just one.
The doctor keeps going, the snzs come out in singles for a little bit until finally a double happens and you can hear the mess move forwards, you can also see it too.
"good good, we're making progress" The doctor says and then switches nostrils, this side seems to be more sensitive than the other when the doubles come easier. They push the snot right to the edge of their quivering nose with each sneeze until the doctor pushes the tool in deeper and pulls out a very desperate set of four from them. Mess pours down their face. They have strands of it dripping down and between apologies they hitch and snz at the doctor more.
contagion clinic nurse checking in on a long stay patient and when they nurse asks if there's anything they need. The poor thing shyly asks "help with blowig bmy dnose, or at least sobe bmore tissues"
Sickie's been nothing but sweet, the nurse can't even bare the idea of saying to wait. So they hurriedly grab a few tissues from the supply area, the softest kind they can and come back. They pull up a hand full of them and gently cup them around the patient's very red swollen nose and tell them "go on, blow for me dear"
and when they do its very gurggly and heavy sounding, like they definately needed to get all of that out. The tissues are feeling warm and full from just the first attempt. The nurse pulls the tissues away, looks and moves the clumps around to find a dryer spot before placing it back at the patient's nose.
"good job hun, lets do it again, need to get out as much as you can"
"I'm not sick... 'm fine," A mutters in a slightly hoarse voice, followed by a pause.
There's nothing to break the silence that follows, allowing B to perk up their ears and listen to the dense, heavy rattle of A's breathing, their shaky inhales and exhales accompanied by a noise that B can only juxtapose with the image of bubble wrap under a steam roller.
B walks over to A, gently pulling their body closer and kissing their forehead, "No, you're sick... you don't get to act like you don't have a cold just because it decided to settle here-" they press a palm to A's chest, "-and not here," they playfully poke A's nose.
i keep thinking about someone with a heavy head cold, holding a blanket around themselves, leaned into someone's shoulder or chest while they desperately build up. Nostrils quivering, eyes squinted, nose running down to their parted lips.
While their partner has a couple of tissues in hand just below their nose as they patiently wait for the poor thing to sneeze.
they rub their back, give soft encouragement, especially when the poor sweetheart does finally snz after such a long wait. They tell them how full the tissue is getting and how good the sickie is doing as the warm thick mess makes the tissue stack heavy in their hand.
feeling the sickie shudder through their snzs and stuffily ask to blow their nose that's still impossibly overfilled with cold. You can't say no to such a pitiful precious face, can you?
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Contagion clinic sickie who's been so stuffed up they can't sleep let alone snz.
They've been up for days barely getting 4 hours of sleep.
So when they come in with dark circles under their eyes and their nose very red and may be very visible congested. Its no surprised that the doctor's treatment it a nice long inducing session.
They start off with massaging their sinuses and the bridge of the patient's nose that crinkles under the physician's touch.
Maybe the doctor tilts their head up to 'get a good look
and yup poor thing is absolutely stuffed tight with that awful cold.
So they get started, applying some sensitivity lotion-that also increases with mess production- Gently rubbing it along their septum and nostrils, then up the base of their nose.
Each movement causes a squishing noise of all that congestion
They give it a few minutes til the patient starts to complain of an awful tingling buzzing in their nose. A nurse then hands the doctor a swap that has lil feather like fronds along it to which the doctor circles along the patient's nostrils and then pushes inside one of them.
Lil gasps and hitches follow suit as the frons sweep and brush along the red, sensitive insides. THeir nostrils flare widely and a congested blunt snz comes, just one.
The doctor keeps going, the snzs come out in singles for a little bit until finally a double happens and you can hear the mess move forwards, you can also see it too.
"good good, we're making progress" The doctor says and then switches nostrils, this side seems to be more sensitive than the other when the doubles come easier. They push the snot right to the edge of their quivering nose with each sneeze until the doctor pushes the tool in deeper and pulls out a very desperate set of four from them. Mess pours down their face. They have strands of it dripping down and between apologies they hitch and snz at the doctor more.
A Poké/mon trainer going to face the grass gym but anticipating their horrendous spring allergies getting triggered, so of course they take their meds… but meds can only do so much against prolonged exposure to superpowered creatures giving it their all with constant barrages of plant and pollen-based moves designed to be potent and do harm. Not even through direct crossfire, the aromas and irritants soon fill the stadium, leaving the poor the trainer hitching and sneezing through their attack commands, to the point where their own Mons can no longer follow, because “Umbreon! hh.. u-use… shaAAD-GHSHHU!!” is not exactly a coherent command
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