Incan,t get covid because im basically immune basically from this mud i drank
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Tag Archives: cw illness
Hi, I’m M16, I’m here today. The body is absolutely fucked up and I have no energy to do anything but reblog shit so enjoy getting to know me through that I guess. Planning (hoping) to use our only spoon to shower today.
Enemies/rivals to lovers self shippers:
Imagine being so sick, or hurt, or exhausted that you can’t stand up, and you pass out on the way to fight with your future f/o.
The last thing you recognize before darkness claims you is the figure of your f/o approaching, and you think that you may not wake up.
But you do wake up, somewhere unfamiliar. There’s a damp cloth on your head and before you open your eyes, you feel fingers brushing through your hair, or touching your cheek.
When you do open your eyes, you see your f/o standing over you. Apparently they have been taking care of you this whole time…
Late getting up this morning because @megaphonegirlk was up last night with a nausea episode and we stayed up with her. The poor dears :c hoping they feel better today.
Noncon/Dubcon CWI’m currently thinking about something awful. What if you have a fever, or for whatever reason you’re so exhausted you can’t really do anything about it, while your F/O takes advantage of you and forces himself on you
Damn anon, are you me? I was just thinking about this the other day.
You’re feverish, exhausted and disoriented. You can’t do anything but lay there while they do what they want with you.
Maybe your F/O teases you by being gentle and soothing while they use your limp body, stroking your hair and whispering that they hope you feel better soon.
Or maybe they’re rough and nasty, taking their time to taunt you, and enjoying the fact that you can’t fight back to just abuse the hell out of you.
Either way they’re arranging your body exactly how they want it, touching your hot, sensitive skin despite any protests…
Karl Heisenberg can’t get sick in the normal way, but sometimes the mold surges or blooms in his body, and makes it feel like he has a bad cold. Coughing, sneezing, aches, fever, the works.
He hates it; it makes him feel like his body is physically falling apart, and he worries some time it will end in losing control of his human form.
When he gets like this, laying in bed, miserable and covered in blankets, Albert comes to comfort him quietly. A cup of tea, smoothing Karl’s hair.
Karl is pathetic like this, but Wesker can’t hate him for it. It reminds him of holding Jill in his arms after the fall, her neck broken, hanging in the fragile space between life and death, and needing to help her too.