After such a successful run, last year, @obsessionoftheday and I are super excited to be hosting @sicktember again this coming September.

The event is open to all fandoms. But let’s face it, what I’m most excited to see is some amazing irondad and spiderson content. Just some sweet sweet hurt/comfort to soothe my soul.

If your interested, prompts will be released on May 15th!

sicktember:

It’s May! And as promised, we have an update on Sicktember 2022

On May 15th, we will be releasing the prompt’s list! And we are excited to tell you that, this year’s list will look a little bit different than last years. Rather than having 30 word-based prompts, there will be a some dialogue prompts mixed in there as well.

We spent hours creating this upcoming prompt list, and can’t wait to share it with you! But, to hold you over, we thought we might go ahead and share a few of the prompts that didn’t make the cut (and why). We’ll call them the ‘Wild Card’ prompts.

1. ‘Are You Trying to Reenact That Scene From The Exorcist, Or Should I Go Ahead and Call a Doctor?’ (too long)

2. ‘You Have to Carry Me! I’m Dying!!’ ‘You’re Literally Two Feet From the Bed’ (also too long) 

3.  Medication Hesitation (hey look! it rhymes!) 

4. ‘I’m Pretty Sure Someone Needs to Check My Pee’ (started as a joke. ended as a 'no.’)

Stay tuned for more updates!

sicktember:

It’s May! And as promised, we have an update on the Sicktember 2022

On May 15th, we will be releasing the prompt’s list! And we are excited to tell you that, this year’s list will look a little bit different than last years. Rather than having 30 word-based prompts, there will be a some dialogue prompts mixed in there as well.

We spent hours creating this upcoming prompt list, and can’t wait to share it with you! But, to hold you over, we thought we might go ahead and share a few of the prompts that didn’t make the cut (and why). We’ll call them the ‘Wild Card’ prompts.

1. ‘Are You Trying to Reenact That Scene From The Exorcist, Or Should I Go Ahead and Call a Doctor?’ (too long)

2. ‘You Have to Carry Me! I’m Dying!!’ ‘You’re Literally Two Feet From the Bed’ (also too long) 

3.  Medication Hesitation (hey look! it rhymes!) 

4. ‘I’m Pretty Sure Someone Needs to Check My Pee’ (started as a joke. ended as a 'no.’)

Stay tuned for more updates!

It’s May! And as promised, we have an update on Sicktember 2022

On May 15th, we will be releasing the prompt’s list! And we are excited to tell you that, this year’s list will look a little bit different than last years. Rather than having 30 word-based prompts, there will be a some dialogue prompts mixed in there as well.

We spent hours creating this upcoming prompt list, and can’t wait to share it with you! But, to hold you over, we thought we might go ahead and share a few of the prompts that didn’t make the cut (and why). We’ll call them the ‘Wild Card’ prompts.

1. ‘Are You Trying to Reenact That Scene From The Exorcist, Or Should I Go Ahead and Call a Doctor?’ (too long)

2. ‘You Have to Carry Me! I’m Dying!!’ ‘You’re Literally Two Feet From the Bed’ (also too long) 

3.  Medication Hesitation (hey look! it rhymes!) 

4. ‘I’m Pretty Sure Someone Needs to Check My Pee’ (started as a joke. ended as a 'no.’)

Stay tuned for more updates!

Fugue

AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT!

@coramatus! I BLAME YOU!

Fugue - Janekfan - Pokemon Legends: Arceus (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]

“Lady, wha–?” The Pearl Clan leader rubbed the sleep from her eyes, stepping aside as the large Noble pushed her way impatiently past, removing the basket from her back with gentle claws. The human crept closer, face twisted up in confusion, but the Sneasler didn’t have time for any of that. Not now. Not when.

Panicked mumbling. Murmured names, unfamiliar names she’s heard before, as her Warden shivered insensate among tangled blankets.

The young female gasped, ripping Sneasler away from memories tinged with panic. She was out of her depth. Being a Noble sometimes meant asking for help. When needed. The humans have always been eager to serve and they had a soft spot for her strange warden.

“Ingo? Hey, hey.” Soft. Soothing, interspersed with the wheezing, the crackling that had worsened over the last few days. But he’d insisted it was nothing. And she’d listened. Foolish.

”I am well, Lady. Just need to rest and repair. I shall be back on track in no time.”

She should have known.

“My Lady?” Worry was making her careless, robbing her of much needed focus. “We need Calaba, and she’s in the Mirelands.” Steel hardened her voice and the Leader was already pulling on warmer clothes, celestica flute held loosely in her fingers. “Will you be alright here until I return?” Sneasler tossed her head, plume fluttering as she drew back her shoulders, baring a hint of fang at her doubt. “Of course, Lady.” The door opened under a human hand, flute already lifting to pursed lips. Sneasler protected the basket from the biting cold while, haunting, the melody resonated in her ears.

Braviary then.

A rush of wings.

A clipped conversation in worried tones.

Then nothing but the howling wind.

Irida pushed Braviary hard, desperate to reach the Mirelands before the blizzard hit in earnest, while explaining why over the wailing gale. There was still the return trip to make, and who knew what Calaba needed to pack in order to be prepared. Ingo’s snow-white, nearly translucent face flashed in her memory. Mighty Sinnoh, if Sneasler hadn’t brought him down when she had.

No. Don’t think like that. It’ll help nobody, least of all her most peculiar Warden.

“Faster, please. If you can.” Voice pitched above the roar, Irida asked for even more. She would apologize later and lavish him with gifts and offerings befitting his station. For now, focus on getting to Calaba and back.

Rumbling in her chest, Sneasler paced in the uncomfortably small space. After unfolding her human from the basket and churring away his breathless, half-formed questions, she’d tucked him into the Pearl Leader’s nest, arranging the many warm things to her liking before stirring up the remaining embers with a claw. The new wood she added caught quickly and before long she was far too warm even as her Warden still shook with chills. Breaths wet and labored and uneven, he leaned into the back of her massive paw when she laid it over his hot, hot forehead. Nervous, she groomed him, brushing back sweat soaked strands of silver-white hair tinged orange in the reflected light of the fire with a sandpaper tongue.

“M’mmet…” She could hear the crackle of dry leaves when he breathed. The damp in his chest was worsening and there was already precious little room.

Where was the female? If she didn’t return soon and with help– What if the storm blew them off course? No. Braviary was strong. He would fly fast and true.

“Derail that train of thought, Lady. You are worrying over delays and detours that have not yet come to pass.”

Whatever her human meant by that, it was a comfort. She wished he would say it now, notice her like no one else did when her mind ran away with itself. The cry she made out of frustration roused her human and he coughed painfully, reaching out for something (someone) she couldn’t provide. Instead, Sneasler nudged his arm back into the nest, nuzzling his flushed cheek in a way she hoped would soothe until the sound of footsteps crunching in the snow and Braiviary’s departing call drew her back to the moment. A blast of cold air hit her back just as relief punched her hard in the chest. The humans were back, the humans would fix this, fix him.

The relationship between Warden and Noble was complex, deep in a way Irida knew she would never fully understand and never more clearly illustrated than in the sight before her. Sneasler was crouched low, purring against Ingo’s side and whispering softly in her language whenever he made sounds of discomfort. She didn’t stop in her ministrations, merely turned toward them with hope brimming in her red eyes. Calaba approached with caution, asking the Noble first if she could see her charge and bowing respectfully when the giant Pokemon shifted to make room.

“Warden Ingo?” Gently and under Sneasler’s careful watch, Calaba felt for his pulse and touched the backs of her fingers to his face. “Can you hear me?” She knuckled his chest and didn’t even flinch when Sneasler growled at her Warden’s groan of pain. “There you are.” Glassy silver gleamed in the firelight at her soft praise. “Do you know where you are?”

“Ca…” Oh, and his voice was so small as he glanced around the unfamiliar room. She nodded, feeling under his chin firmly. His throat clicked with a heavy swallow. “I, I don’ remember.” He paused to catch his breath, wet dry lips. “Apologies.” Blown pupils rolled up under fluttering lids.

“None of that, young man.” She stepped away, hand lingering on his shoulder. “Sit him up for me.” Irida was thankful for Calaba’s no-nonsense attitude because she certainly didn’t know what to do here. Illnesses like these… well in this harsh landscape, once the wet collected in a creature’s lungs like this there was little to be done. Ingo whined low in his throat at the touch of cold hands on his feverish skin and Lady Sneasler growled in warning, narrowed eyes flashing like Gengar’s Curse.

“We’re going to help him, you have my word.” Irida continued, pulling his lax weight forward and holding him there when he threatened to topple backwards. This was bad. Head hanging limp, chin touching his stuttering chest, Ingo’s vacant eyes were half lidded and limned in deep shadows. How’d she let this happen on her watch? Irida startled when Sneasler settled on the bed next to him, ears pitched forward in watchfulness as the medicine woman divested Ingo of his coat and tunic, tugging uncoordinated limbs out of his black undershirt. His Noble didn’t look convinced, and probably wouldn’t be while her Warden was so confused and upset. “I promise.” Irida took Ingo’s hands, squeezing gently and running her thumbs over the back of each until gradually he settled into his delicate trembling.

“Hush, both of you. I need to listen.” Ingo shook in the relatively warm air of the tent while Calaba thumped her fingers on his back seemingly at random, ear pressed close, frown etched in stone and face unreadable. The Noble fidgeted beside her Warden, supporting him as he collapsed ever sideways by inches, quaking fingers winding into her coarse fur while enduring the examination.

“Wan‘Mmet…wha…whe–!!” A fit of coughing stole away whatever he’d been trying to say along with the air in his body and it was only Irida’s firm grip on his shoulders that kept him from curling inwards. The man in white. Was that the name he’d been searching for? Was that who he was asking for?

“It’s alright, you’re okay.” Across from her, the Noble mimicked her sounds in a chirruping tongue, nuzzling his temple and holding him fast. Calaba crushed ingredients from her satchel in the mortar and pestle she’d brought and the scent of Gentle Mint wafted from the bowl in her ancient hands.

“Hold him still.” Not without care, Calaba smeared the remedy over jutting collarbones, offering him a sip of warm water from the kettle over the fire when he was able to breathe again, eased by the crushed herbs. As quickly as she paused, the woman resumed her examination, pinching the skin over his ribs, smoothing her fingers over old scars, checking his eyes, mouth, and ears before finally settling him back in the bed, propped up on several pillows and Lady Sneasler. “How long has he been ill?” Irida didn’t know. She’d been busy with her duties preparing for the storm and hadn’t had the time to visit her Wardens or their Nobles. Sneasler held up a huge paw. “Three days?”

“Snea.” A firm confirmation. Calaba held her chin in thought, brow furrowed.

“So fast.” Irida covered her mouth with both hands, tears prickling in the corners of her eyes.

“Warden Ingo isn’t the only thing thin in the mountains.” Again, the Noble agreed. “Being unused to the thin air, this probably happened too quickly for him to realize and by then it was too late.” Sneasler made a mournful sound. “Even small ailments can be cause for concern for the unwary.” Outside, the wind picked up. Calaba began unpacking. “He can’t be moved; not in this cold.”

“Of course.” Of course she would gladly give up her tent if it meant Ingo would recover.

“I’ll stay through the worst of it.”

“He’ll be okay?”

“We’ll know soon enough.” Deft, practiced hands began slicing leeks into even pieces and Irida did her best to help, sparing a smile when smoothing a cold cloth over Ingo’s closed eyes resulted in a sigh of relief.

The humans worked through the night, plying her Warden with teas and tinctures made of familiar ingredients combined in unfamiliar ways. A sticky paste of leek and berries and various mints wrinkled her sensitive nose when it was spread across his skin but she had to admit it alleviated the pain and made his breathing easier. In the heat of the den, he was a brand against her, matting her own fur with sweat and burning up under her claws where she pet his head. Humans weren’t meant to burn this bright and she feared he’d burn entirely away at this rate. But her presence was a comfort, that much she knew, so she kept up her purring, her careful touches, while both healer and leader worked to save him. It was late morning when they were satisfied enough with his condition to sleep themselves.

Sneasler heard him first, felt him shaking against her, and scented salt in the air. She licked the tears from his face, thrumming in what she hoped was a comforting way, but they kept coming. Faster and faster, breath hitching until he’d worked himself into such a frenzy he risked choking.

“Ingo, Ingo. Shh.” The human Irida leavered him up, pressing him close as he scrabbled to hold onto her, hold onto someone, even if they weren’t who he wanted, needed.

“Where…where, he promised. Promised me.” His sentences were broken into fragmented pieces where he gasped for air in between words.

“I know. He’d be here if he could.” Of that much they could all agree. She held him upright when he began losing strength, slumping into her arms as his own fell to the sides, chin resting on her shoulder as he wept. Sneasler groomed his face while the healer bustled around, collecting different mixtures and readying them.

“Why? Why isn’t he h’here?” Irida met her eyes briefly, reflecting the agony of being unable to help.

“I’m so sorry, Ingo. I wish I knew.” Carefully, the last thing her Warden needed was an accidental poisoning at this stage, Sneasler cradled him in her claws, folding him up and letting him cling to her fur.

Someone was missing.

Someone who should be here and wasn’t.

Someone who’d promised.

”We’re a two car train.”

And what did that mean? And where was he? When Ingo felt so awful and sick and couldn’t breathe and he should be here. Merciful Sinnoh, he was so dizzy, his head ached, his whole body ached, joints screaming, chest burning and tight and it was so hard to breathe. The arms holding him weren’t right, none of this was right.

Where was he?

Soft swipes of a scratchy tongue distracted him though he couldn’t stop sobbing like a small child for the person he was missing. The voices around him weren’t right. He was exhausted, wheezing desperately through cough after cough after cough and why couldn’t he breathe?

Where was he?

He was pulled away from the wrong, gathered up. Held, held, held and he wound trembling fingers into familiar fur.

Where was he?

A warm rumbling relaxed his pounding heart without his permission. A cold nose, a damp tongue bathing his hot face, unsticking the sweat-damp hair from his forehead so gently as though he might break.

Where…?

A roughhewn cup pressed against his lips, crisp, warm steam cleared his mind and something sweet and hot flooded his mouth.

“Just sleep, Ingo.” The answering chirp seemed to agree this was best. “It’ll be okay. We’re here.” Another mouthful was coaxed into him. “Just sleep.”

If you insist.

Sneasler was proud.

A lesser being would surely have succumbed to this. Not her Ingo. He fought. Unyielding and uncharacteristically quiet. But he was so tired, an empty vessel in her claws where he’d remained since waking in a panic days before. The human named Calaba was silent, preparing the next doses of medicine and Leader Irida was checking on the rest of the clan now that the worst of the storm had passed.

Here in the leader’s den, it was a bad night.

Her human was uncomfortable and sore, twisting weakly in his troubled sleep, fingers knotted in the blankets over his chest in a vain attempt to relieve the pressure drowning him. The old female approached and Sneasler tipped her Warden’s pale face towards her, counting the drops poured on his tongue, daring to hope that this would lower his fever and eventually, hopefully, it would begin to break. Ingo needed a break or this would be the end of him. Sneasler nudged his cheek, hissing through her fangs at the heat in him, somehow higher than before, and when heavy lashes parted there was no recognition there. His gray eyes, slightly crossed, unfocused, passed through her, looking, no doubt, for the human in white.

“Here Ingo, drink this down.” A wrinkled hand helped guide him away from his futile search, attempting to draw his attention. “Do you know me, young man?” Roaming eyes caught on the shadows, got stuck there while Sneasler’s heart caught in her throat.

“Snea?”

“Ingo?” The quiet expanded to fill the den, broken only by the raspy inhale-exhale of the human in her arms as he puzzled. One beat. Two. Too many. His mind was already wounded, what if this stole away the rest of him? He blinked hard, coughed, met her gaze again.

“Nnh…Lady?” A familiar hand reached for her, scratched under her chin and traveled behind her ear in that way she liked. “You’ve been working too hard.” The old healer chuckled in disbelief.

“And it’s your fault.”

“A’ah.” This time the flush painted high in his face had little to do with the fever.

“Indeed. Drink this.” He held his head when sitting up sent him reeling but was able to hold the cup on his own. Exhausted, Ingo followed Calaba’s directions, subjecting himself to her examination without complaint. “Long way to go, but you’ll mend.”

“Ingo?!” The Pearl Clan Leader startled them all, surprising her Warden into hacking around the tea choking him. “Oh thank sweet Sinnoh.”

“Lady Iri–”

“And YOU.” She grabbed him by his shoulders and glared like an angry Zoroark. “Don’t do that to us again!”

“I–”

“You scared us half to death.”

“I am so–”

“Not to mention how difficult finding a new warden would be at this time.”

“Of cour–”

“Caused us so much trouble.”

“It won’t–”

“Happen again! It better not.” Irida took a deep breath, tugging the blankets up and smoothing them over his arms. “Or there’ll be worse coming for you.”

“Yes, Lady Irida.” He accepted the broth pressed into his hands next. “I must apologize. By the time I realized what I’d so foolishly allowed to happen I was in no state to help myself.” He glanced up into Sneasler’s face. “I am certain it is you, dear Lady, who I owe thanks to most of all.” Embarrassed, she looked away, growling out an order to eat and recover while her traitorous purring gave away the happiness and relief welling in her chest.

Ingo allowed the fuss, sensing how his close call worried the ones he felt closest to. He couldn’t help feeling as though someone was missing, that another smiling person should be beside him, chiding him for overworking (only to turn around and do the same days later). But like all the vague notions he had about himself, the feeling stayed locked behind the same wall he’d run into when first he woke in this strange place. He’d tried to excuse himself once realizing he was taking up his Leader’s bed but she wouldn’t hear of it and honestly, he didn’t have much fight left in him to protest. He was tired. Not in the bone deep, desperate way he’d been before, but tired nonetheless. Calaba’s medicines took the edge off the aching in his chest and the urge to cough, but had the unfortunate side effect of making him even sleepier and once he’d made the mistake of yawning, Lady Sneasler wasted no time in pushing him down like he was an unruly sneaslet. She licked the side of his head, once, twice, no doubt standing his unwashed hair on end, but as he slipped out on a tide of friendly, familiar voices Ingo couldn’t find it in himself to mind.