masterlist, the cheaty version

💝 all my stuff is here 💝

terrestrialyarn :

I do love the sense of inescapability when it comes to stirred-up dust.

terrestrialyarn :

Look, sometimes the mood is big dramatic sneezes with that classic three-breath build-up and that’s just how it is.

would love 💁 and ⚔️ for cerberus if they haven't been done yet! :)

Absolutely, and they have not! Thank you so much for the ask! 💁 How would other characters typically describe their sneeze? heh, it depends a fair bit on who's being asked. I mean, Kia's going to have quite a different answer to most. But taking it as a generality, I'd say "attention-getting" is probably the most usual response, with a fairly solid runner-up place going to "dramatic". Cerberus himself would argue the point of that second one, too - he genuinely doesn't see anything he does as dramatic so much as necessary - but he's wrong, haha. No, he doesn't deliberately make a show out of it, he's just naturally...theatrical about some things. 😅 ⚔️ How do they go about trying to fend off a sneeze? Is it effective? He doesn't usually try to, not under normal circumstances, anyway - he's much more of the "if it's needed, let it happen" type - but if it's not normal circumstances, he will occasionally attempt to stifle if he feels he has no choice but to try it. He will absolutely have to employ outside pressure for this - he's got zero hope of managing it at all otherwise - so whichever physical "dear gods, stop it" route is the most doable at the time, he'll try it. Usually back of the hand pressed with significant force against his nose, although if this isn't possible for whatever reason, crushed against upper arm is probably the next most common route. Is it effective? Hell no, not at all. It will fail. He might manage two stifles at best, but it will result in him just having to sneeze unrestrained anyway. And probably more intensely than if he hadn't tried to interfere with things in the first place, too. Such a shame.

OOhh! YES UM hi hi can i please get🍲 ❤️ and ❔for Cerberus? THANK YOU

Of course, and thank YOU! 🍲 What’s their ‘get better’ strategy? Do they have one? Uh...well, not a good one. 😂 His first strategy, if it can be termed as such, is intense application of willpower for this just not to be happening, damn it. He does this every time, although to be entirely fair to him, he actually does manage to shake off milder colds regularly enough that he's not just totally delusional about this stuff. And he's not used to getting sick but he is used to being able to impose his will to achieve a desired outcome, so...he'll pretty much never just accept his fate in this regard. Once he's undeniably sick, though, and has begrudgingly accepted that no amount of willpower is going to do a damn thing about that, he'll look after himself reasonably well, in that he'll do his best to stay warm, and he will take meds (not without significant complaining about both having to do so and the inefficacy of the godawful stuff) and drink tea and eat soup and the whole deal, BUT. He's usually terrible at actually resting properly - unless told to do so, he probably won't - and he is also terrible at sticking to recommended doses of medication. And he's certainly not averse to the occasional glass of cognac or merlot getting included in the mix, too. This can have...entertaining results. ;P And again, and as ever, if Kia's around, he'll do much better. <3 ❤️ What’s your favorite thing (or some of your favorite things) they’ve ever said about illness/sneezing in reference to themself? Asked and answered already here, but since there's (several) more than one answer to this one, the other one that always comes to my mind is: “Bless you, hon.” Kia moves to him, places a gentle hand on his arm. “Should I even ask how your day’s been?”

“Argued with Aera, sneezed a lot. I’m fairly sure that covers it.” With a sharp, strong sniffle, he pushes newly disarrayed midnight from his face, manages a sardonic half-smile for his bonded. “You, darkling?”

(From Much Better) ❔If asked, “Are you okay?” while sick, how would they phrase their response? Does it depend on who’s asking? His most common answer, by a fair margin, is "I'm fine", delivered in whichever tone fits the circumstance. He's as likely to say this calmly and gently as he is to practically snarl it, and yes, it does depend very much on who's asking, and what else is going on. His other most likely answer, though, is "I'm alright," or - and this one is a tell, if you know him well - "I'll be alright." Both of these indicate he's probably not, actually, and particularly the second one. He'll also use "I've been better" - this, like "I'll be alright", definitely indicates that he is not, in fact, okay. If Cerberus is asked if he's okay and he just openly admits that he isn't, something is very wrong with him indeed. Kia is, as always, the exception here, but even then, he's often avoidant with this question as he never wants to worry her.

🗣️ for Cerberus? Thanks

Certainly! 🗣️Do they tend to say anything after sneezing? “Pardon me”? Apologize? Comment on it? Oh, yes, absolutely, and almost without fail. He's a gentleman, after all, for all his, uh...darker inclinations. He will excuse himself - either the abovementioned "Pardon me" or "Excuse me" verbatim - unless he actually can't, which usually means he's not done sneezing, so...he'll get to it. Eventually, lol. He will also fairly regularly apologise, though this is due to the interrupting of things that sneezing causes rather than any sense of embarrassment about it. And yes, he will also comment on it generally from time to time, particularly if he doesn't know why it's happening - or still happening, as the case may be.

Aah! May I get 👤and3️⃣for Cerberus, please and thank you thank you!

You absolutely may! Thank you so much! 👤 What’s one (or more) ways their sneeze reflects their personality? He means business. Sneezing has a point, it has a purpose to achieve, and thus it will be done with conviction and commitment to the cause, heh. Cerberus is end-goals focused a great deal of the time generally speaking, and this is also the case when it comes to sneezing. This is 100% the reason why he gets particularly annoyed when the sneezing fails to stop after a short time, or doesn't actually achieve anything, as is often the case with allergic reactions.

3️⃣ Describe their sneeze in 3 words. Heavy. Powerful. Absolute.

I love this already!! Will you do me a favor and answer ❤️ and 🎭 for cerberus?

Thank you so much, and of course! ❤️ What’s your favorite thing (or some of your favorite things) they’ve ever said about illness/sneezing in reference to themself? Cerberus is a blunt and casual assessor of his own sneezing, and will sometimes comment in a matter-of-fact, offhand way about it which has flustered me more than is reasonable more than once, lol. His simplicity and directness about this does me in, for some reason. My personal favourite is...hmm, probably this one, since it seems to always be the one that comes to mind first: Tucking the books she’s collected so far under one arm, Lilith exits the library with a sigh. “What are you doing here?”

“HuhTSCHuu! *SNFF!*” Another wave of disorientation ripples through him; he nevertheless manages to gather enough wherewithal to reply. “Sneezing, currently.”

(From The Answer ) 🎭 How does being sick affect them emotionally? Do they become withdrawn? Needy? Easily annoyed? Especially softened? VERY easily annoyed, particularly during the early/oncoming stage of a cold, but more about his immediate situation than external whatevers. At the height of a head cold, though, he has a tendency to alternate between seething anger at the situation and abject self-pity of the "no, but I am actually dying, though" sort. Unless Kia's involved, in which case he will absolutely soften. He genuinely loves the comfort she offers him, but this was something he had to learn - he'd never experienced being cared for in this manner before (and to be fair, he'd never considered it something that he might actually want) and it took him a while to completely let her. He's much better at it these days, and although I wouldn't go as far as saying that he milks the attention he gets from Kia at such times, he certainly doesn't fight it, either. Her ministrations are notably more pleasant than the ones from Healing, after all. 😘

snzgay :

OK QUESTION TIME

Which group are you in when in regards to mess?

Answer via reblog comment

😷=Nope, no mess, gross, ew nope

😪=In-between, little mess is ok, as a spice

🤧=Did someone say mess? I want mess! Where's the mess?!

snzgay :

Reblog because want more answers!

sickromancer :

Perfect summary on my preference is here:

https://victoriablackrose.tumblr.com/post/683423643284406272/on-the-topic-of-mess-i-like-heavy-messy

Mess. Heavy mess. A lot of it. But contained.

mongooseblues :

Inquiring minds would like to know about your OCs or fav characters 👀 Ask others OR consider this your official permission to just answer the ones you want to yourself! Any of em! All of em if the mood strikes you!

👤 What’s one (or more) ways their sneeze reflects their personality?

❔If asked, “Are you okay?” while sick, how would they phrase their response? Does it depend on who’s asking?

🗣 Do they tend to say anything after sneezing? “Pardon me”? Apologize? Comment on it?

💬 What do they respond to blessings? Do they bless others? If so how?

3️⃣ Describe their sneeze in 3 words.

🍲 What’s their ‘get better’ strategy? Do they have one?

✋Is there a certain way they go about touching their nose/face? A certain part of their hand they use? Knuckles, wrist, fingers?

🎭 How does being sick affect them emotionally? Do they become withdrawn? Needy? Easily annoyed? Especially softened?

💁 How would other characters typically describe their sneeze?

❤️ What’s your favorite thing (or some of your favorite things) they’ve ever said about illness/sneezing in reference to themself?

😳 Under what circumstances might they be embarrassed by sneezing?

⚔️ How do they go about trying to fend off a sneeze? Is it effective?

🌡What symptom(s) most severely plague them when they have a cold?

🖊 Tell us something about their snz we might not know just from written spellings/description.

dopaminty :

I just have a special place in my heart for the way a handkerchief falls covering the hand when held one-handed just under a nose. Just something in the visual. Mmm.

athousandblessings :

Sneezing in multiple singles, my beloved. When they sneeze and it seems like a one time thing, there’s plenty of time for recovery and blessings, casual though, just continuing on doing whatever they’re doing otherwise, but then another sneeze follows. Just a short time later but enough time that you thought they were done. Oh mmmf. And then it happens again. And again. And… Oh god oh god oh god

victoriablackrose :

Geralt And The Griffins

ch 1

Cw: Geralt not eating enough. Nasty wounds, and a queasy Witcher no emeto but the paragraph will be in red you prefer to skip it!

Geralt and Jaskier have been apart for just more than two months, attending business in different parts of the continent, and fall has just barely begun to touch the land. The very soggy land as it happens. It has been unusually cold and wet for the end of summer. Even so, when Jaskier meets back up with Geralt just outside a village on the border between Kaedwen and Redania he is startled by just how poorly his Witcher looks. He is ghastly pale save for an unhealthy flush high on his cheeks, and an absolutely startling crimson hue to his clearly badly abused nostrils. Furthermore the dark circles under the man’s eyes speak to another bout of lingering insomnia. It is also clear the Witcher is slightly leaner than he had been when they last parted ways, his cheekbones more prominent than Jaskier recalls.

“Goodness! Geralt my dear wolf! You look absolutely dreadful! Haven’t been taking proper care of yourself at all, have you?”

“Dice to see you too, Jaskier,” says Geralt sarcastically, voice thick and rough with a painfully obvious cold.

“Oh! You poor dear, you sound as bad as you look! Just full of cold! Let’s get you into town, you need a hot bath and a warm bed as soon as possible! I can’t believe you’re looking this poorly after so short a time!” The bard says clearly distraught.

“Jaskier, I’b…” Geralt starts.

“Geralt, you really must take better care of yourself!”

“I’b fide Jaskier!”

“Really Geralt! You call this!” He gestures at the Witcher incredulously, “fine? Well Roach looks well at least!” The horse in question has an oilcloth cover protecting her from the unending drizzle.

“As if-if… h’huh’ HURRASSHOO! *sniff* as if I’d led her ged raid rot?” The Witcher looks affronted even as he holds what appears to be a length of bandage in place of a handkerchief.

Jaskier hands him his own handkerchief, “Of course not! But come now, let’s get to the inn and out of this infernal rain.”

“Can’d pay for an idd,” says Geralt as he follows Jaskier toward town.

“I’ll take care of it Geralt! Never fear. But have there really been so few contracts?”

Geralt sniffles thickly and rubs his nose with Jaskier’s Handkerchief, “pledty of codtracts, shit pay sidce the fields flooded.”

Well, thinks Jaskier, that explains how drawn and bedraggled Geralt looks. He clearly hasn’t been able to get supplies in some time, aside from an oilcloth cover for Roach. And even Geralt can’t make it on game meat and forage alone, especially with his heightened metabolism. Witchers go through a lot of food, even more so if injured.

They are just walking into town when they hear shouting and a horrible screech from the other end of the village.

“Fug, thad’s a griffin!” Geralt shouts grabbing three vials, one each of thunderbolt and blizzard and white Raffard’s. This combination is very toxic, but Geralt knows he is too sick to take on a griffin without them.

Geralt downs thunderbolt and blizzard as he runs toward the screaming, finding a young man being chased by not one, but two royal griffins. Geralt can’t help but think he will probably die in this fight, taking on a regular griffin while sick would be bad enough, but a pair of royal griffins is going to be nearly impossible.

He dives between the boy and the monster just in time to deflect the beast’s talons. Villagers are still scrambling for shelter and chaos is everywhere. He only just manages to throw a small girl into her mother’s arms before the griffin’s claws rake across his back, slicing through his armor and deep into his flesh. He manages to wound the beast in return, driving it back. He dodges and strikes as best he can, struggling to keep the attention of both beasts on himself rather than the panicked, unarmed villagers. Something in his left arm snaps as he meets a steep swooping strike from the male, that would have killed an old man who just barely makes it into a doorway with Geralt’s help.

Even with most of the villagers now safely inside, the fight is long, bloody, and brutal, and halfway through Geralt is forced to drink the White Raffard’s to help with the numerous wounds he is sporting. Finally he takes down one griffin disemboweling it, when its mate slams a great paw hard into his side driving the breath from his lungs as he feels something crack. Then, just as his strength is failing and he’s sure this will be the end, the griffin is distracted by a woman’s scream and Geralt sinks his sword into its heart.

He staggers to a bench outside of a storefront, covered from head to toe in blood, viscera, and feathers, and collapses there exhausted and in agony.

Villagers slowly poke their heads out from their doors and from other hiding places, most of them having seen the epic battle in the middle of their town square from their windows.

Jaskier scrambles toward Geralt with the medical bag from Roach’s saddle Roach herself following. He has barely gotten a look at the Witcher, enough to know he’s badly hurt and toxic, when a large man approaches.

“Come! Get him inside my inn, you can treat him there.”

Jaskier helps Geralt limp into the inn, which is luckily just across the street. They sit him down on a chair while the innkeeper’s wife gets hot water, a cloth, and strong alcohol for the Witcher’s wounds. All of the patrons are shooed out of the door so Geralt can be stripped and wiped down, and his wounds treated.

Geralt, we need to get the bleeding stopped! What portions can I give you?” Jaskier asks somewhat frantically.

“Can’t, too toxic, out of white honey.” Geralt pants.

Now that Jaskier looks there are painfully few potions left in the bag. They would have to work quickly to make do without.

The three large, deep gashes that cross Geralt’s back from his left shoulder to right hip are the first priority. Jaskier carefully gets Geralt clean enough to pour alcohol over the bleeding wounds and begins stitching them as fast as he can while the innkeeper wipes the rest of the Witcher down with a warm cloth to reveal the rest of the damage. Geralt allowing this contact is worrying, the Witcher is far too pliant, his skin burning hot.

What is revealed is horrible. A long cut crosses his abdomen, making it clear that only his armor had saved him from having his guts spilled. It looks like one of the bones in his right calf is broken, and his left wrist as well. Other more minor cuts and bruises litter the Witcher’s body. A lurid bruise spreads dark across his ribs on the right side, they are undoubtedly broken.

Jaskier is only reminded of Geralt’s cold when the Witcher suddenly gasps and pitches forward with a pair of huge sneezes that he only barely manages to cover. He moans as pain shoots through his broken ribs.

“B-blessings!” Stammers the innkeeper who Geralt had only just managed to turn away from.

Geralt says nothing, just looks up at the innkeeper, his eyes still black with toxicity. The innkeeper blanches and looks away.

Geralt is shivering in earnest by the time he is clean, bandaged and with his wrist and leg set and splinted. Sitting in the tavern room in his small clothes being wiped down with a rag has probably lowered his fever, but it has left him trembling with chills.

When they finally have him dressed Jaskier helps and the innkeeper half carry him up to a room and get him into bed before returning downstairs intending to see to Roach.

“Thank you for your help, now about the room,” Jaskier says.

“It’s on us! That was our boy the Griffins were chasing. My name is Nikolai, my wife is Zofia, and our son is an idiot! He thought he’d go kill the griffin and impress the baker’s daughter! Didn’t expect two of the beasts! Not that he could have handled one!” Nikolai rubs a hand across his face, “we owe the Witcher more than we can repay, so he can stay as long as he needs, the room and food are on us.”

“Thank you so very much, now I really must see to Roach.”

“Who? Oh the horse! She wandered straight into the stables, I have someone seeing to her now!”

“Oh dear! Now I REALLY must get out there! she won’t let them touch her!” Jaskier heads for the stable door in time to find the stable hand rubbing his arm where Roach bit him, clearly quite hard. He apologizes and sees to getting her settled.

He returns to the tavern room to see Zofia waiting for him, “is there anything we can get for you or the Witcher? Some food perhaps?”

“For me, yes. But for Geralt probably just some broth and bread, those nasty potions of his leave him feeling quite unwell and rather uninterested in food.” Jaskier says. “Oh, and if noise could be kept to a minimum he’d surely appreciate it, they tend to leave him with a wretched headache.”

“Absolutely, he saved our son, and many others today. We will ask our patrons to respect his rest.”

Jaskier returns to the room to find Geralt meditating in bed as best he can with a stuffy nose and broken ribs. Jaskier sets about organizing the packs he has brought up, shaking his head at the Witcher’s meager supplies.

Not long after Zofia knocks gently at the door, she brings in a tray with a cup of broth, a loaf of bread and butter, and a bowl of stew.

Geralt looks up at her entrance and promptly has to grab his handkerchief to cover three massive, wet sneezes, “huh HUH’RAASHOO HUUSHOO eh EH EHHGGSHOO.” He grunts from the harsh pain in his ribs and gives a few careful but congested coughs into the still raised handkerchief.

“Oh! Oh my! It sounds as though you’ve an absolutely dreadful cold! Zofia says quietly, mindful of Jaskier’s warning of the Witcher’s headache. “To think you fought in this condition!”

Geralt makes an indistinct noise of ascent and looks away, his eyes still black and his skin bone white, lurid black veins snaking across his face. He knows he’s terrifying to look at in this state, which adds to his self consciousness.

“He does have a rather bad cold,” says Jaskier. Geralt shoots him a dark look which makes the woman pale and step back.

Jaskier clears his throat, “now thank you once again, I’ll bring the tray down when we are done.”

“Now Geralt, let’s get a little of this in you! It will do you no good having those potions and naught else in you.”

“D’not hungry,” Geralt mumbles

“Come now, just a bit of bread?”

Geralt grimaces and looks away from the offered food, disgusted by the thought of eating.

“I know, my dear Witcher, but you really must! You need something to absorb those vile potions, you’ll just feel worse if you don’t.”

Geralt appears to consider the matter for a moment, before sighing.

“Fine,” he concedes, if only so Jaskier will let him rest.

Geralt eats with a little difficulty owing to his broken wrist, but manages well enough. He eats only enough to satisfy Jaskier, which isn’t much. But the younger man is right, loathe as he is to admit it, Witcher potions and an empty stomach don’t mix.

As Jaskier takes the tray back to the counter he notices the room is full, curiosity has brought a good number of people to the inn. They are keeping the noise down at least, but whispered accounts of the fight dominate the conversation.

Nikolai takes Jaskier’s tray and asks “anything more we can do? The wife tells me he brought down those beasts while sick with a horrible cold? We could fetch the healer?” He looks fretful. “He was burning with fever when we were patching him up.”

“Well, we shall need some pillows, he won’t rest well laying down with those ribs of his. Otherwise I’m afraid there’s nothing to be done save to let him rest. As for his fever, it isn’t quite so high as you fear, Witchers run hot.”

Unbeknownst to Jaskier the whispers behind him increase, one of the villagers having heard the conversation.

“Did you hear?” Whispers the nosy villager to another, “The White Wolf was sick for that fight today?”

“Really?!? That was him fighting ill?” Whispers his companion reverently. “Can you imagine how strong he must be when well?”

“Yeah, it seems he has a bad cold and fever!” And it’s not an hour before the whole village knows that The White Wolf is ill.

Geralt sleeps fitfully, fever, congestion, and pain all warring against the pull of sleep. It is a very long night for Jaskier who tends to the wolf as best he can, he battles against a fever that keeps trying to climb armed only with cool, damp cloths. Medicine is out of the question until the toxicity fades. Water is all the relief he can offer the ill man for his cough for the same reason, and it’s heartbreaking to see his pain with every cough and sneeze. It turns out that stifling, or holding in sneezes is harder on his aching ribs than just letting them out. But as Geralt finally succumbs to true sleep, Jaskier risks laying down in the next bed for a few hours.

Morning dawns chilly and rainy as the past month has been, and Jaskier is the first to awaken. He gathers the supplies to change Geralt’s bandages, and a clean handkerchief he is sure will come in handy. Then he moves a chair over to Geralt’s bed, none of this has caused the Witcher to stir, which is somewhat alarming though understandable given how exhausted he had been and how badly wounded he is.

“Geralt my dear, I need you to wake up, we need to change your bandages.”

Geralt groans, coughs a few times, and opens his eyes blearily. They have finally returned to their normal gold but their hazy cast tells Jaskier he still has the post potion migraine. Jaskier wishes he could close the curtains in deference to Geralt’s headache, but he needs the light to work. Begrudgingly Geralt sits up, sneezes twice, wrapping his arm protectively around his ribs, grimacing at the resulting pain.

Carefully removing Geralt’s shirt and unwinding the bandages he gets a good look at the Witcher’s body for the first time, he’d been too focused on sewing the man up before he bled out to take in the whole picture yesterday. He’s still covered in bruises and scratches that would normally have healed by now, but show little improvement. To say nothing of his more significant wounds. Adding to the overall picture of misery is how drawn and ill he looks. The wolf is also somewhat leaner than the last time Jaskier saw him, not underweight certainly, but leaner nonetheless. He clearly hasn’t been taking care of himself.

Jaskier applies salve to Geralt’s wounds checking them for infection, everything looks clean, but the lack of healing worries him.

“Hmm, these should be much further along by now,” Jaskier says concerned.

“Id’s the toxicity add this cold.”

“That can happen?” Jaskier looks at Geralt startled.

In reality it’s the result of a string of brutal hunts with too many potions, no white honey, little food, no sleep, no shelter from the unending rain, and a bad cold. But there’s no way Geralt will tell Jaskier all of that. So all he says is “hmm.”

“Can you take any potions yet? Swallow perhaps?”

“I’b out,” Geralt sighs and coughs as carefully as he can, mindful of his sore ribs.

But In short order all his dressings have been changed and Jaskier closes the curtains and goes down to get breakfast, which Geralt will be eating whether he wants to or not. Nikolai greets him at the counter where he orders some eggs and sausage for himself and a bowl of porridge and some cooked fruit for Geralt. He also gets a kettle for the hearth which he can use to brew a tisane for Geralt’s cold and his pain.

“Please tell Geralt that the blacksmith has offered to sharpen or repair his weapons or provide shoes for his horse, and the leather worker is offering him any repairs he needs to his horse tack or armor.” Says Nikolai.

“That’s very generous! But why would they do that?” Jaskier asks, surprised.

“The old man Geralt saved yesterday is father to the blacksmith and father in law to the leatherworker.”

“Well thank them for us, I’ll have to ask Geralt what he would prefer. His armor I know will need repair but I don’t know how he will want that handled, Witchers do make their own armor after all.”

Jaskier returns with the tray of food and kettle to find Geralt dozing lightly. He sets the kettle to boil on the hearth in the room and wakes the Witcher.

“Breakfast is served!” Chirps Jaskier.

“Dot hungry,” he replies before sneezing, “huh HU’GSHOO”

“You really must eat Geralt! You need your strength to recover!”

Geralt grumbles but sits up and takes the bowl, a few bites is all it takes for him to realize how hungry he actually is. He finishes easily.

Later as Geralt sips the tisane Jaskier tells him of his conversation with Nikolai.

“The townspeople seem to be grateful for your efforts yesterday,” says Jaskier, “This room and the food are free until you are well, and the leatherworker and blacksmith have both offered free services for your heroism.” He outlines the morning's conversation to Geralt’s disbelief.

mongooseblues :

I do love variety but there’s something to be said for that static, repeated sound that occurs when someone’s stopping a sneeze short, completely in vain because it just makes them sneeze more times to achieve the same end. When a person’s body is trying the same thing over and over and over, just this inefficient, sexy display of hubris. Particularly love when that leads to a final aggravated iteration that, while it might retain the same general sound, has this undeniable tinge of almost anger to it. Like;

“iikshh!” Why- “ikshh!” -isn’t- “iishh!” -this- “…HIIZSHH!” -working??

evilfloralfoolery :

Sooo, which one does it for you:

"I have fever." "I have a fever." "I've caught a cold." "I've caught cold." "My allergies . . ." "My hay fever. . ."

sickromancer :

Just a little application post for the phrase "get better".

Please try to rest. And get better.

Hope you get better soon.

*kiss on the cheek/forehead* Get better.

And also the naughty one: He's not getting any better, poor thing.

Sometimes about that phrase in the context of colds just gives me butterflies, hard.

botchedexperiment :

Someone who's forced to work when they're sick and grumpy. Everyone else knows they don't feel good, and also knows not to mess with them. Let the poor thing get their work done so they can go home and go to bed.

(Maybe there's one person who can approach them without getting their head bit off. Maybe they can convince them to rest)