One Of These Days I’ll Draw A Proper Bug Fables Comic, These Are Super Scribbly But I Figured I’d

Have you got anything for parent-child comfort prompts?? Xx

Parent comforting child:

Cradling child close to their chest

Wrapping child in old blankets like a little burrito

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Assuring child that the pain isn’t their fault

Distracting child with their favorite things (toys, comfort items, ect.)

“Nobody’s going to hurt you as long as I’m around.”

Watching child’s favorite childhood movie with them (bonus points if child is all grown up)

Wiping child’s tears away, cupping their entire face with their hand because child is so small

“It gets better, I promise.”

Child comforting parent:

Knowing parent is hurting, even when they hide it

Crawling into parent’s lap quietly

Gently patting their parent’s hands/head

“Even though you’re big, it’s okay to cry.”

Wiping parent’s tears away, using their entire hand to do so because parent is so big

Writing parent a note in crayon to cheer them up (bonus points if they include a messy drawing of their parent smiling)

Doing chores if they are a bit older, knowing that taking care of other tasks will help parent relax

Pretending they’re the one who needs comforting, because they know parent will try to hide weakness in front of them

"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!

Whump community Reblog if you hate AI

it ruins the whole point of art

Consider this, congestion so bad the sick person cant breathe or concentrate. Staring off into the distance with mouth slightly agape as they struggle to form cohesive thoughts through feverish haze.

Am I the only one that really enjoys the exhaustion part of a whump fic? Like for example:

A character has pretty bad flu/cold and it knocks down their energy reserves. So much so that they can fall asleep anywhere at any time. And while their caretaker is by their side, comforting them, they just slowly rest their head against the caretaker’s shoulder and just… doze off. Without warning. And when the caretaker wants to get up, they notice the skight weight on their shoulder and decide to stay a little longer.

A character is exhausted from either a coughing fit, sneezing fit, etc. and when they finish they slowly rest their head onto the nearest surface and the caretaker has to try and drag them up gently to their room.

Bonus points if:

The character starts to snore with heavy amounts of congestion into the mix.

The character ONLY snores when sick.

The character is usually a light sleeper, but can’t even be woken up when sick.

I've seen people making their own whump bingo cards lately and thought it looked fun so I made one dedicated to these lovely fever tropes 👀 Feel free to use if it inspires you!

is there a (real) doctor in the house..?

💟 “Are you okay?” response prompts:

“Why do you keep asking me that?”

“I’ve been better.”

“Not really…”

“Yeah, my stomach’s just bothering me a little.”

“No, my stomach’s really bothering me.”

“Do I look okay to you?”

“I was just going to ask you that.”

“I’m fine. I’m just tired.”

“I will be once we get home.”

“Not exactly.”

“No, I kind of feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m just a little out of it today.”

*shrugs* “I don’t know. I feel funny.”

*covers mouth and shakes head before making a mad dash for the bathroom*

“Yeah, I think so.”

“No, something’s not agreeing with me.”

*shivers* “I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure I’m running a fever.”

“Like you care.”

*wraps arms around belly and starts to cry* “No.”

*blinks dazedly* “Huh? Are you talking to me?” ———————————————

“Relatively speaking.”

“At this point? Not sure I’ll ever be okay again.”

*swallows thickly* “No, I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Hard to say.”

“No, I’m starving.”

*snorts* “Did ____ send you?”

“Not even a little bit.”

*shakes head* “I don’t feel good.”

“I think I’m as far from okay as I can be.”

“Yup! I’m right as rain.”

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“No, I-I don’t–” *faints*

“I’m not talking to you.”

“Who’s asking? Because I know it’s not you.”

“Define ‘okay.’”

“You know I hate that question.”

“No. I have the worst stomach ache.”

*sarcastically* “Oh, yeah, I’m great.”

*shakes head and buries face into friend’s shoulder*

“Ugh, no. I think I’m gonna hurl.” ———————————————

“Yeah. Why?”

“No. I just threw up.”

*can’t answer over the urge to gag*

“Yes. You’re starting to sound like a broken record.”

“Yeah, fine. Why do you ask?”

“Would you be okay?”

*gasping breaths, crying* “No. I can’t breathe.”

“No, I-I need a bucket.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about me.”

“You have some nerve asking me that.”

*knees collapse*

“No. I don’t think my stomach’s too happy with me.”

“That’s a bit of a loaded question.”

“I dunno. Do I feel hot to you?”

“Never better.”

“No, I feel like my insides are liquifying.”

“Nnh. My head feels like it’s gonna explode.”

“I think you need to answer that question first.”

“Psh. Of course I am.”

“That’s gonna be a negative, ghost rider.” ———————————————

“If I said ‘yes’ would you believe me?

“Jury’s still out.”

“I feel like I could puke at any second, but other than that I’m great.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m living the dream.”

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

“Compared to who?”

“No. Pretty sure I’m dying.”

“I’ll live.”

“Well, I’m still alive.”

“No, I’m really dizzy.”

“No, I think I’m sick. Really sick.”

“You’re receiving medical attention right now and you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

“Just peachy.”

“No, I’m not okay. Is that what you want to hear?”

*exasperated* “Yes, quit asking me that!”

*shakes head, pinches bridge of nose* “I think I need to leave.”

“You already asked me that today. You passed your quota.”

*humming no and cradling belly* “Mm-mm. M-My stomach…”

“No… I’m gonna–” *throws up hugely*

*stomach makes loud gurgling noise* “Yeah, sorry, my stomach’s just going haywire.”

“You’re tired, aren’t you?”

“...”

“Come here and let’s get you to bed.”

When Jaune saw Vi’s scars, the team were worried that she would stop Vi from exploring. But fortunately she didn’t.