tired and ill

📖 2026 Event Prompt List

"I told you, I'm fine." / Loss of Balance

"When was the last time you actually slept?" / Sensory Overload

"Stop talking for a second." / Pharmacy Run

"I can handle it." / Lab Results

"You look pale." / Chronic Illness/Injury

"You feel warm." "I know." / Sharing a Bed

"I made coffee/tea." / Tired Caretaker

"Don't look at me like that." / Too Busy To Stop Working/Moving

"Let me help you." / Anxiety/Panic Attack

"Just sit down before you fall down." / Overworked

"You don't have to carry this by yourself." / Fever Induced Confession

"Just give me five minutes." / Hiding An Illness

"Everything is vibrating. Please stop talking." / Shaking Hands

"I'm just tired." / Burning the Candle at Both Ends

"I am completely capable of doing my job." / Brain Fog

“I was just trying to help.” / Exhausted Silence

"Everything is too loud." / Sleep Deprivation

"How long was I out?" / Waking up disoriented

"It's just a headache, drop it." / A cold compress.

"I didn't realize how bad it was until I sat down." / Uncontrollable shivering.

"Can you turn the lights down?" / Fluffy Blanket

"I don't think I can get up from here." / Warm drink

"I've handled worse than this." / New Medication

"I didn't think it would hit this fast." / Contlagion

"Hold onto me for a second, the floor is moving." / Stomach Virus

"My brain won't shut up." / Relapse

"Don't treat me like I'm fragile." / Loss of Fine Motor Skills

"I can't remember the word for it..." / Failed Masking

"I think I'm awake, but I'm not sure." / Wired but Tired

"Is it just me?" / Hot Flashes

"Just rest." / Tunnel Vision

🔄 Alternate Prompts

"Did I already say that out loud?"

"It's fine, it's just a seasonal thing."

"I don't need a doctor, I need an hour of silence."

"Everything is just... too much right now."

"I didn't mean to snap at you."

Ringing Ears

Nausea

Fight or Flight

Fever Dreams

Abandoned Tasks

Hey everyone, a quick note from me.

You might have noticed things have been a bit quiet around here lately, and the prompt list didn’t quite make the midnight debut like it was supposed to. Life got a little crazy behind the scenes, and the scheduled posts simply didn't happen. I’m really sorry for keeping you all waiting!

Thank you so much for your patience and for sticking around. The prompts are officially up now, and I’m incredibly excited to see what everyone creates this year.

It was quite a typical day, really. A lovely, domestic day.

It was mid December, and Crowley had set out quite early to meet with his angel. He bundled up to deter the brisk, London chill, sternly told his plants not to even think about dropping leaves from the cold snap, and sauntered out the door to his Bentley.

Aziraphale was already outside and locking the shop when the demon swerved (you could barely call it parking) onto the curb. Crowley slid out of the seat and slammed the door shut, his eyes already trained on the angel. He let out a soft laugh, rounding the car with a smile on his face.

Aziraphale was wearing a lovely tan winter coat, a scarf meticulously tucked into the lapels and fluffed high enough to warm his nose. He wore brown leather gloves, which Crowley noticed as he waved at him with a bright smile. What had Crowley completely amused, however, were the puffy, cream-colored earmuffs displacing his curls.

“Good morning, dear!” Aziraphale beamed, tucking his keys into his pockets.

“Mornin’, angel,” Crowley smiled softly. Aziraphale stepped down off of the front step, walking up to the demon.

“I thought we’d walk today, if you’d like,” Aziraphale said, effectively stopping Crowley in his tracks from opening the passenger door for him. Crowley slid his fingers off of the handle, shrugging.

“Don’t mind it. Sounds lovely.” He held out his elbow. “Coffee first, I assume?” The angel smiled warmly at the offer, and Crowley’s heart fluttered.

“Of course,” he said, looping his arm with Crowley’s. “Will you be warm enough, dear? You’ve barely bundled up.”

Crowley wore his usual turtleneck, and he was donning a stylish, black peacoat over it that certainly wasn’t made to be particularly warm. He had lazily tossed on a skinny, black scarf that didn’t even cover his neck properly, but had, at least, taken the time to slip on a pair of black, leather gloves. Silly to put fashion first, really, seeing as he was more susceptible to the cold than Aziraphale. He, of course, didn’t care.

“Not too worried about it, Angel,” he hummed, guiding them across the street towards ‘Give me Coffee or Give me Death.’ “I’m desperate for an espresso, though.”

— 

They spent the better part of the day out. After coffee, Crowley trailed closely after Aziraphale as he stopped to visit some local shops and shopkeepers he had been meaning to catch up with before heading down to the park. 

It always amazed Crowley how after 6000 years together, they never ran out of things to talk about. Aziraphale would always come up with something, and it felt easy for Crowley to talk to him. Even if it was just a gentle hum, Aziraphale knew he was listening. And their silences, when they did occur, were comfortable.

Which is why, amidst their short walk in the park,  Aziraphale felt a pang of worry when the silence that greeted his last comment was most certainly not comfortable.

“Crowley, dear, did you hear me?”

“Hn, wha?” He pulled his eyes away from the path in front of him. “Sorry, angel. Got a bit distracted. What were you saying?”

“I was– well, I don’t remember. Nevermind that anyway. Are you alright, dear?”

“M’ fine, angel,” he said.

If Crowley was entirely honest, he wasn’t feeling exactly well. If he was quite honest, he hadn’t felt exactly well all day. He just felt wrong enough to notice, but couldn’t quite place it. 

Now, he felt achy and exhausted. His head was throbbing, prickling in his jaw and against his forehead. He found it hard to think, his mind foggy and miles away. 

“You’re shivering, dear.”

It had started snowing. Crowley was busy staring at the delicate snowflakes collecting in Aziraphale’s curls. 

“Am I?”

“Perhaps we should head back to the shop. I can put a fire on, and make you a nice hot toddy.”

Crowley smiled.

“Sounds lovely.”

—

Eleven minutes and 38 seconds later had Crowley feeling significantly worse. 

Snow had begun to stick to the ground, and Aziraphale was quite excited about it. They had lapsed into the Medium (capital letter intentional) kind of silence. The kind where Aziraphale would offer musings and comments, and Crowley would occasionally offer acknowledging hums. He was really struggling to do that much now, it seemed, as they continued to tread the familiar path home.

Crowley had begun to feel fuzzy. His face and arms had started to tingle, but not from the cold. It had become even harder to concentrate, and he felt as though everything around him was covered in a layer of thickness that made it hard to hear and see. His head pounded, his body ached, and some sort of acrobatic creature had made a home in his stomach and named itself ‘Queasy.’

Needless to say, he was quite excited to be back at the bookshop so he could promptly sit down.

“Oh, do you mind if we stop, dear?”

Crowley froze, looking towards the Mini Mart Aziraphale was stood in front of.

Damn. 

“I’d like to try and make those pastries for us again.” He wasn’t, unfortunately, very good at baking despite how much he loved food. “I’m just missing one thing. Oh! And, they have that lovely Bordeaux.”

“Anything you want, angel,” Crowley said, stamping down the wave of Unwell that fell heavy on his shoulders as he moved to hold the door open. Aziraphale smiled brightly, thanking the demon as they entered.

He was quiet as Aziraphale puttered about, having produced a grocery bag from who knows where, muttering to himself as he looked for the wine he wanted. Crowley stood behind him, reaching over Aziraphale’s shoulder to grab the neck of the Bordeaux and pulled it off the shelf to hold in front of him.

“S’ this what you were looking for, ‘ngel?”

“Oh, yes, dear!” He said, taking the bottle out of the demon's hand. He looked over his shoulder and up towards him. “Thank you– oh my. Are you quite alright?”

He must look as bad as he felt.

Crowley had found a name for that odd, fuzzy, thick and far away feeling. He had been lightheaded. And now, lightheaded had graduated to dizzy. And his lovely new friend ‘Queasy’ seemed to have changed its name to ‘Nausea.’

“M’ fine,” he breathed, the words almost a pant. Even he had to admit that he most certainly did not sound fine. “Wha- uh, what else d’you need?”

“I needed some mo-  oh, nevermind that! Are you sure you’re alright? You’ve gone quite pale.” Aziraphale had fully turned around now, wine bottle still in hand.

All the color had drained from Crowley’s face, but a pink flush remained high on his cheeks.

“Yeh,” Crowley swallowed thickly, reaching a hand up to tug at his scarf. “S’ just kinda hot.”

“Hot?” Aziraphale gaped. “Crowley, it’s barely warm in here. It’s still quite cold.”

“Wot!? S’ hot, ‘ngel.” It was practically a whine, because Aziraphale was insane. It was far too hot. In fact, it was boiling.

Crowley yanked his scarf off and started fumbling with his gloves, desperately trying to get them off. Satan, his hands weren’t working– they weren’t doing what he was bloody telling them to!

“Crowley-!” Aziraphale started, haphazardly abandoning the wine back onto the shelf. He wasted no time in reaching for the demon’s hands, peeling the gloves off with ease. “There. Is that better, love?”

Crowley practically whined, already shakily trying to unbutton his coat and shimmy out of it. He couldn’t even get past the first button,  his fingers far too stiff and unwilling. 

Aziraphale was quick to replace Crowley’s hands with his own, swiftly unbuttoning and sliding the coat off for him. He was far too aware of how heavy Crowley was breathing, so Aziraphale simply dropped the winter garments onto the store floor in favor of grasping Crowley’s shoulders with both hands.

“My dear, please tell me what’s wrong,” Aziraphale pleaded, worry pinching at his brow.

Crowley’s head was absolutely spinning, and stars had begun to dot his vision. He worked his jaw, trying to respond to his angel. The words were stuck, sloppy. Everything felt a few seconds behind.

“Um,’ he ground out, trying to blink the stars away. It was damned hard to explain what was going on when he barely knew himself. “Dizzy.” As if to punctuate his success in speaking, his knees decided to buckle beneath him.

Aziraphale gasped, a swear on the tip of his tongue as Crowley slumped forward into his arms. The angel quickly caught him before he could fall any further, lowering them both to the ground.

“Crowley!” he cried, his hands ghosting over the demon. He really didn’t like how pale Crowley had gone, nor how limp he was  in his hold.

Crowley groaned quite pathetically, chin bobbing against his chest. His eyelids fluttered as he struggled to keep them open against the harsh fluorescent lights of the shop– the shop which had, apparently, decided to turn into a carousel ride.

Aziraphale slowly laid him back against the shelf they were in front of. He leaned close, lifting a hand to gently cup Crowley’s cheek. Just as soon as it had touched, Aziraphale’s eyes shot wide, a gasp soft on his lips. He slid his hand up to his forehead, brushing against tufts of red hair as he did.

“Oh, my,” he sighed, pulling his hand away. He didn’t miss how Crowley faltered at the loss of contact. “You’re burning up.”

“Wha- huh?” Crowley mumbled, trying again to lift his chin and look at his angel.

“You have a fever, dear,” he murmured. That darling pink on his cheeks wasn’t from the cold, it seemed.

“Ah,” was all Crowley said. It made sense now that he put the pieces together, but he was too hazy to think about it much more than that. He thought that perhaps he had forgotten his brain somewhere in the park, or dropped it along their stroll. All he knew was that he certainly didn’t seem to have it now.

“Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?”

“Don’t–” his tongue felt thick. He paused to swallow. “Don’t think I knew.” His stomach climbed into his throat, and he dropped his head again. “Guh,” he said.

Aziraphale sighed and  moved his hand to Crowley’s back. He rubbed soft circles there, guiding him just a little farther forward.

“You silly old serpent,” he sighed. “That’s it, there you are, now– head between your knees.”

They stayed that way for a few quiet moments. All they heard was the muted bustling of evening shoppers and the hum of fluorescents around them. Whether by coincidence or by miracle, no one else was shopping for wine that night.

Another moment passed, and Crowley slowly lifted his heavy head. Aziraphale cupped his chin.

“Any better, dear?”

“Ngk.”

“Good. Can you stand, then?”

“... Think ssso.”

Aziraphale hummed approvingly. He picked up the scarf and gloves, tucking them into the grocery bag. Then the coat, which he loosely draped over Crowley's shoulders so as to not overheat him again.

“Let’s get you home, shall we?” He stood, carefully guiding Crowley to his feet. When he swayed, Azirapahle looped his arm around him.

“M’ sssorry, ‘ngel,” he slurred, leaning heavily into Aziraphale’s side.

“Whatever for?”

“All this,” he groaned, feeling ridiculously weak as Aziraphale carefully led them back outside. The cold air hit Crowley’s face, and he sighed– a mix of relief for the cooling of his fevered skin and exasperation at his own damned corporation. “I– ngh. M’ a demon. I sh–”

“Oh, pish posh.”

“Pish posh?” Crowley said, brows raised.

“Yes!” Aziraphale said. “You may be a demon, but you’re not just any demon. You’re my–” His face flushed. “Ahem. Yes, well. There’s nothing wrong with needing a little help from a– a friend. Demon or not. And I can’t help if you're too stubborn to let me, let alone tell me.”

“You don’t have to do anything, angel.”

“I want to,” he huffed. “I want to help you, Crowley. Not to mention, I really doubt you would take care of yourself. Not that you can’t– just that you won’t– I– I just. That is–” Aziraphale sighed, a soft frown on his lips.

They had, at some point, stopped walking. Crowley could just see the bookshop across the street over Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“Please, let me do this for you. Forgot how stubborn you are for one night, even if it feels rather silly.” Aziraphale said. He was looking very intently into Crowley’s eyes. “I’ll take care of you.”

“... I really didn’t realize.” Crowley looked as though he had been scolded and then kicked for good measure. Aziraphale softened completely.

“I know, dear.” They started walking again.

A few agonizingly slow, yet surprisingly quick moments had passed before they found themselves at the bookshop’s front door.

“Right,” Aziraphale said, keeping one hand firm on Crowley's waist  as he fished his keys from his pocket with the other. “I think it’s about time we get you inside, don’t you?”

Crowley said nothing, his mind still miles away. He was staring at Aziraphale, he realized slowly, and had to force his aching eyes to close. Aziraphale frowned, softly pushing the door open and guiding the demon inside.

“You really don’t feel well,  do you, dear?” Aziraphale said, helping Crowley to sit on the loveseat. He pulled the coat from Crowley’s shoulders, draping it on the nearby armchair.

“I–” He was about to go on, say that he was fine, because, really, this wasn’t the worst he’d felt. But, the words died as Aziraphale reached up and gently slid Crowley’s sunglasses off of his nose. He looked into his eyes, his fingers lingering against Crowley’s cheek. As it often did, it made Crowley forget everything.

“... No. Not really.”

Aziraphale sighed, that darling frown still ever present on his lips.

“That won’t do.”

“Suppose not,” Crowley smiled.

Aziraphale straightened back up, taking off his own winter garments.

“Alright. What do you say we get you changed and all wrapped up with a nice cup of tea?” “Maybe some wine and–”

“I think not.”

Crowley couldn’t help but laugh, even if it came with a dull ache in his chest. He smiled fondly, finally allowing himself to surrender to his corporation. He slumped back into the cushions, letting out a graceful ‘ngk’ to accompany it. He looked up at his angel.