I probably won’t be drawing a ton of bigger Ghost but I think that molting is probably a big part of bug culture, and I have my own headcanons about how that would look with vessels as well
Everybody thank this anon for pushing my molt fascination over the edge
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sick character shivering in bed as they're overcome with a fever. delirious enough to start mumbling panicked words in a foreign language they dont usually speak. the only teammate who can understand them hears it, and replies softly in the same language. repeating gentle reassurance as they stroke their hair.
Bruce has never understood why other parents complain about how difficult their kids are when they’re sick, because the batkids actually turn out to be nicer to him when they’re sick
They’re so sweet and docile, listening to his every word and obediently taking their medicine, looking up at Bruce with watery red eyes and awaiting praise
The only thing they request is Bruce’s attention and lots and lots of cuddles
He doesn’t know it, but that’s only for Bruce. Being sick is just an excuse to act sweet to him without getting embarrassed
Bruce had to go to a meeting at the company for a bit, and called Clark to come take care of his kids. He went over what meds to take at what time and who likes what blanket, but other than that, there wasn’t really any briefing. He didn't think he had any reason to
To this day, Clark talks about that time as if he were fighting Darkside himself
Dick wouldn’t sit down for anything. No matter what Clark bribed him with, the moment he turned his back, Dick was up and moving, despite having thrown up five seconds ago. He was also bothering everyone and talking over whatever show or movie all the kids had finally agreed upon. He was trying to land a flip while also doing his best not to throw up. It did not work. Clark almost threw up cleaning it before throwing a blanket over him when he finally collapsed
Jason wouldn’t even look at Clark. And anytime he did it was with utter disgust that truly hurt Clark’s feelings, even if the younger man was sniffling with a bright red nose. He's always been standoffish with Clark since he was a kid, but Clark thought he got over his jealousy after he explained he wasn't trying to steal Bruce's attention. He has not, he's just good at hiding it. Clark threw a blanket over him and decided to deal with it later
Cassandra lunged at him the moment he tried to put a cold compress on her forehead. He wasn't expecting it, so he barely dodged, even with his superspeed. She let out a low growl, and Clark seriously didn't know what to do with that kind of hostility. He kinda just threw a blanket over her and hoped for the best while she dozed off in Bruce’s favorite chair. He didn't dare disturb her unless it was time for her to take her medicine
Tim turned the brightness of all his devices to the max, even though it made him dizzy and gag, because he claimed he couldn’t see through his watery eyes. It didn’t help that he had to be kept separate from his other siblings so he didn’t get worse. He kept trying to sneak off to be with everyone, and Clark couldn’t let him, but he got so sad thinking about it, so he divided the living room where they were all staying in half with pillows, so Tim could still be in the room but not too close to anyone. He then threw a blanket over him and moved his devices away
Steph, on the other hand, was trying to sneak over to see Tim, which was bad. Logically, he knew they all understood Tim was vulnerable, but being sick seemed to devolve their thinking processes. She also continued asking for food, and when Clark brought it over, she’d gag and push it away. She then asked Clark to make something, and when he presented it to her, she gagged so hard she threw up, so Clark also threw a blanket over her head
Duke, while the calmest, was not easy to handle either. He would just stare. Clark expected that from any other child under Bruce’s wing, but not Duke. Duke would turn himself invisible to stare at Clark, but Clark got goosebumps all over his skin nonetheless. Super hearing can only do so much when the person sneaking around you is trained by Batman himself. He threw a blanket over Duke and prayed he didn't remove it
Damian insisted on having all his pets near him at all times, then got scared his sickness would transfer over to them and cried so hard he threw up. Clark deposited him in Cassandra’s lap after cleaning him up, just so he could have some comfort, and gave him his phone so he could watch all the videos he wanted of the cows on the farm. He then threw an animal print blanket over him
And all of them, yes, all, would randomly burst into tears and call out for Bruce. Each time, he would have to deliver the devastating news that he still wasn’t back, then be subjected to all seven glares, which was a lot to handle. He wanted to fly into the attic and hide, but he promised Bruce he would try his best, and he was bound by moral obligation
Yes, Clark tries to appeal to the masses and children by wearing bright colors, but he’s never claimed to be good at handling children. In fact, his parents would say he’s the opposite
He can handle it for short amounts of time, but carrying them and having to interact with them for an extended period of time? Fuck no. He's never had to clean up or make throw up as in that moment. He will not do it again
When Bruce comes back, all his kids are absolute angels again, if not a little more pushy, so they can cling to him without Clark being there. They whine and tug Bruce into the living room so they can pile on top of him (Tim has a mask on) and bury him under their combined weight
Bruce simply doesn’t believe a word of what Clark says. Those are his babies. And even if they did do that… whatever
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Summary: You get sick, and he takes care of you. All fluff and mush.
Warnings: None really. Mentions of fevers, pet names galore, no use of Y/N, not beta read whoops
Word count: 905 words
Another grueling nightshift, another morning spent on the roof. Robby’s gentle teasing and turn of phrase hid thinly veiled concern, and if this was another time in Jack’s life, he'd understand. Before, when work was over, he went home to a silent house. The same house that held memories of a dead woman and what felt to Jack to be a dead man as well. Ever since he had met her, however, everything changed. Mornings were now something he looked forward to.
Robby and him never really talked about the positive impact she had on his life. They never had to. Everytime he had found Jack on the roof since they started going steady, he had stayed firmly on the inside of the rail, elbows resting on the cool metal.
They walked down the stairs, exchanging handover details before they get into it properly. Only a few criticals left from the night crew. Jack prided himself on having a very efficient crew. He gave Ellis a good pat on the shoulder as he was leaving, she had done a few tough procedures that night, but he knew she could do it.
So, all-in-all, Jack Abbot was in a good mood leaving work. He drove with the radio on, fingers drumming to the beat reverberating softly through the car speakers. It was a beautiful day, maybe they could go for a walk later. Pulling up to the house, he admired the potted plants you had lovingly bought to liven the place up. He unlocked the front door and all but skipped through it.
The house was silent. Huh. That was odd. As long as Jack had known his partner, you'd been as bad a sleeper as him. And always an early riser. He glanced at his watch - 7:45 AM. you were sleeping in.
“Baby…?” His gravelly voice rang out. He called again once he got into the main hallway and heard a faint ‘hm’ in response coming from the bedroom.
He crept into the bedroom, looking into two glassy eyes that looked sleepily back at him. He knelt beside her and took her face in his hand, immediately frowning at the heat in her cheeks.
“Hi darling,” You began sleepily, “how was work?”
He pressed his lips to your forehead, sneakily checking you temperature again. Hot, hot.
“Fine, good. Same old same old.” He replied, distracted. “What’s up with you, sleepyhead?”
“Eugh, slept through my alarm, I guess.” He could hear the phlegm in your throat.
“Yeah? Lay back, pretty girl.” You didn’t need to be told twice before flopping down, no energy in your body.
Jack rooted around in the bedside drawer before finding what he was looking for.
“Open.” He said simply, making an ‘ah’ sound instinctively. Your eyes remained closed and you had no idea he had a thermometer, but your mouth still opened. He appreciated your utter trust in him.
“Keep that there for a sec.” Not that you had any energy to spit it out. Jack had walked away again. It hadn’t beeped, but he knew you had a fever. He popped some Advil into his hand and filled your favourite water bottle.
Goods in hand, he checked in again. The thermometer sounded when he walked in. Looking over it, he softly tut tut tut’ed and shook his head. 102.4° F.
“Am I dying?” You murmured, tiredly.
“Definitely not well, I’m afraid. You’ll have to try harder to get away from me, though. Sit up for me, honey.” Jack cradled you into a seating position and put the tablets into your hands. You swallowed without asking what they were, accepting the water bottle after.
He maneuvered himself onto the other side of you, switching the wall-mounted TV onto some nature documentary for some quiet background noise for the both of you. Turning the brightness down halfway, He leans down to kiss you properly for the first time today.
“You’ll get sick.” You protested but he laughed into your mouth.
“I think I’ve got a better tolerance than that, sweet thing.”
Your eyes closed again, but he could feel you trying to wake yourself up.
“Go back to sleep. Your body needs this. Besides, I’m napping anyway.” He lazily threw one arm around you, laying both of you down. Jack pressed one more kiss onto your nose when he finally felt you relax. He tried to watch the documentary for a while but drifted off not too long after. You stayed curled around each other.
The next time you woke, the sunshine was poking through the half-drawn blinds. Jack knows you like to wake up to a little sun, wherever possible. You register something in your mouth. He was taking your temperature again. You reached for your phone, careful not to dislodge the thermometer - 12:06 PM.
It bleeped and you took the liberty of taking it out yourself. 101.8° F. Jack walked in just as you were looking and snatched it out of your hand, shooting you a disapproving look. You couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on your lips.
“It’s going down. Feeling better?” He pressed kiss after kiss onto your shoulder.
“A bit. Thank you for taking care of me. I know you’re sick of sick people when you get out of The Pitt.” You frown, guilt gnawing at your stomach. He kissed the corners of your frown.
“Nonsense. I’ll always take care of you, sweet girl.”