Prompt List

Yooooo. Here’s the third and final part (Part one can be found here, Part two can be found here).  Honestly there was less Shiro whump in this than I had planned, oops.  Sorry.  Please let me know what you think, and also please send me prompts or asks or anything, I really wanna make more friends on here XD

Shiro was…well, if we were being honest, Shiro wasn’t doing too hot. Lance was asleep next to him, and had moved so he was lying with his head in Shiro’s lap, and his legs in Keith’s.

Keith was on his phone, his tongue poking out of his mouth as he concentrated on whatever game he was playing.  

Shiro closed his eyes, grimacing at the throbbing in his head.

“Hey, Keith?” “Hmm?” Keith mumbled absentmindedly.   “Lance is out for the night, I think I’m going to go back to my place…sleep in an actual bed.” Keith looked at him, panic stricken.  “You’re leaving? Why-why-why are you leaving? you don’t need to go anywhere!” Shiro sighed.  “Keith, I need to sleep in an actual bed.  You’ll be okay on your own.” “What if he wakes up?” He was barely concealing his annoyance now. “Keith.” “Okay, okay. Um…what do I do with him?” Shiro sighed again. “He can have more medicine at eleven.  If he wakes up again, give him some then.  If he stays asleep, leave him be.” “Can I call you if I need something.” “You won’t.” “But if I do?” Shiro rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Fine.  Yes.  But I think you’ll be fine.”

Shiro slipped out from under Lance.  Luckily he didn’t even stir, and just stretched out even more.  The moment Shiro was standing up, black spots clouded his vision, and he nearly pitched forward. He caught himself at the last minute on the back of the couch.  

Keith narrowed his eyes.  “Stand much?” Shiro shot him a flat look. “Very funny.  Alright, I’m gonna go.  Let Lance know I’ll be here around nine.” He shot him a thumbs up.  “Will do.”

Shiro made it back to his apartment a lot slower than usual.  It was only a five minute drive, but because he was so sleepy and felt so out of it, it took him fifteen.  He didn’t really remember the drive, but he didn’t crash so it must have been somewhat okay.

Once he was inside, he nearly collapsed on the couch that was too short for his six foot frame to stretch out on.  He didn’t care, though.  He was far too tired to make it another six feet to his bedroom.  

Despite his exhaustion, Shiro didn’t sleep that night. Then again, he never slept when he felt shitty, and man, did he feel shitty.

His entire body was aching, and he was sure the achiness was exacerbated by the couch he had to curl up on to fit.  It felt smaller, somehow.  By that point, he was too tired, and had no energy to get up, so he resigned to staying on the tiny uncomfortable couch.  He tossed and turned the entire night, and eventually tumbled to the floor, where he landed with a dull thud, and low groan of pain. His head was throbbing much worse now, and Shiro wasn’t sure if he had smacked it on the ground when he landed, or if the act of falling just angered it.  

Lance woke up the next morning, and rubbed a hand over his face.  He felt better for the first time in days, but he was nowhere near one hundred percent.  None of his symptoms were gone completely, except maybe the fever (which got rid of his achiness).  They were all just less severe.

“Oh good.  You’re awake.” Lance inhaled sharply and rubbed his eyes as he looked at Keith, who was leaning back against the wall next to the doorway to the kitchen.  “What time is it?” He mumbled sleepily. “Just past eight. Shiro said he’d be here around nine.” “Shiro?” He mumbled, his brain muddled from sleep.  “What? I thought he was here.” “He wanted to go sleep in his bed or something, I don’t know.” Keith shrugged.  “How are you feeling?” “Uh…better, I guess.” He rasped. “I finally don’t feel like death.” Keith cracked a smile. “Well that’s an improvement. You should go get ready. Shiro should be here soon.”

And he was, thirty minutes later.  Lance had thrown on a pair of sweats, a ratty t-shirt, and a zip up hoodie, not caring how shitty he looked, because he still felt shitty and couldn’t bring himself to care.  He was lying down on the couch when there was a weak rapping on the door.  Lance pushed himself off the couch, trudged to the door and threw it open.

“Hey Shir-oh.  Dude, are you alright? You look like hell.” “Yeah, just tired.” Shiro muttered, shooting him a weak, tired smile. “Just tired?” Lance said, quirking a brow at him.   “I had a hard time sleeping last night.” Shiro shrugged.  “Anyways, are you ready to go get this done?” Lance nodded slowly, narrowing his eyes at Shiro.  “Yeah, but if you’re not feeling great, maybe you should take a day and just rest.” Shiro rolled his eyes (which felt so heavy and hurt so bad). “Let’s just go.” “But are you-” “-I’m fine, Lance.  How are you feeling?” “Better.”

*

By lunch time, Shiro was definitely sick. He locked himself in his classroom, using the ‘I really want to get this all cleaned and organized without distractions’ excuse.  In reality, he was huddled underneath his desk, barely conscious and shivering.  He was freezing, but his skin was slick with sweat, and his shirt was sticking to him uncomfortably. He definitely had a fever now, and he told himself he just needed a fifteen minute cat nap, and he’d be okay after waking up.

The congestion finally hit him thirty minutes after he got to his classroom, as did the awful sore throat that felt like he had been gargling knives anytime he spoke or swallowed.  

“Hey, Shiro?” Lance rasped, knocking on the door.  Shiro shot up into a sitting position, and then groaned in pain as the throbbing in his temples increased. “Hold on.” He croaked weakly.  He pushed himself to his feet, and walked on legs that felt like jello to his door. He opened it, coughing into his fist.   “You ARE sick!” Lance cried, pointing an accusing finger at the larger man. “I’m f-” He turned from Lance, pinching his nose as he stifled what must have been ten sneezes in quick succession.  The fit left him panting, and his eyes watering as he coughed lightly.   “You are not. Shiro, come on.” Shiro sniffled, turning around and walking to the tissue box on his desk.  “Landce, I’mb finde…allergies, or sombething.” “You don’t have allergies, you idiot.  Come on, let’s leave.” Shiro blew his nose, and then wiped under it with the tissue and tossed it in the trash can.  “I don’t need to.” “You’ve been here for almost four hours, and your classroom isn’t any closer to being clean than it was when we got here.” Shiro sniffled weakly in response.  “Go back to your classroom.” “No.  I’m not going back to my classroom.” Lance spat, throwing his hands in the air.  “Will you just QUIT the tough guy act? I know how shitty you feel, I’ve been there for the last five days. Now stop it, let’s go home, you need to sleep. We can come back tomorrow if you’re really that desperate to get your classroom clean.

Either Lance was a hell of a lot more persuasive than he thought he was, or he really didn’t feel well.  Either way, Shiro nodded in agreement, visibly deflating as his eyelids drooped and he swayed on his feet.  

Lance wrapped an arm around his waist.  “Alright, big guy.  Please don’t pass out on me, just get to the car.”

Shiro was a solid wall of muscle, with broad shoulders and a barrel chest.  Lance, on the other hand, was the complete opposite.  He was much shorter - a good five inches - and was small and wiry.  If Shiro collapsed, he would definitely take Lance down with him and Lance would probably die.  

Lance managed to get him to the car.  He’s not sure how, because Shiro was very unsteady, and very out of it (but he did it).

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, watching as Shiro clambered into the front passengers seat of the car.  

“Keith, I need a favor.” “Yes?” Keith asked, sounding distracted. He was most likely writing the manuscript of his latest novel.  Usually Lance didn’t bother him too much while he was working, but he needed him. “Dude, I need your focus.” “What is it?” “You need to come get us.” “What? Why?” “Shiro’s sick.  He’s really out of it and in no condition to be driving us home.” “Can’t you drive?” “I’m exhausted.  I feel like shit, man.  Can you please just come?” Keith sighed.  “Yeah, okay.”

*

Lance was better by the next morning. He still had some lingering effects from the flu, but he was better. Shiro, on the other hand, was worse, and had what seemed to be the flu/head cold from hell. It was all in his sinuses and head.  The coughing had gone away completely, and instead, there was an annoying, almost constant buzzing feeling in his sinuses.  He was sneezing what felt like every fifteen seconds.  He had already gone through a box and a half of tissues, and was laid up on the sofa, despite how (weakly) adamant he was that he was FINE.

“His fever’s pushing one hundred and three.” Lance groaned, staring at the thermometer.  “Go get some washcloths. We’ve gotta get it down.” “Yeah, okay.  You know, I never signed on as caretaker for you guys.” Lance rolled his eyes.  “Okay, well you didn’t do shit because you don’t know how to take care of someone.  Stop complaining and go get the washcloths.” “Yeah, whatever.”

Shiro sniffled, going into another weak sneezing fit.  His sneezes sounded exhausted at this point, and like they were clawing their way out of his throat. He sounded miserable, and Lance felt awful for getting him sick.  

“Shiro?” Lance asked anxiously.   He sniffled.  “What?” “Sorry you’re sick.” Shiro just shrugged listlessly, his eyelids drooping.  They snapped open when he sneezed again, and he moaned in discomfort and annoyance.  “I’mb really sick of sndeezindg.” “I think we have some decongestants.  Let me go check on that.” Shiro nodded, closing his eyes again.  

Once the damp washcloths were on his forehead, and the medicine had kicked in, he was finally drowsy enough to fall asleep.  Which he did, and it was the most restful sleep he’d had in the past week.

idk i really like when a character gets progressively sick like

Day 1 Character A goes to school with a slightly runny nose and an occasional cough. Character B notices and comments on it but Character A is like “nah i’m good”

Day 2 Character A’s slightly running nose is slowly turning into a waterfall and the coughing gets more frequent and is accompanied by a raspy voice. Character B questions why Character A is even at school and Character A brushes the question off with “it’s just a small cold”

Day 3 Character A is running a fever. Their face is flushed and glistening with sweat despite the chills wracking their body. The runny nose leads to aggressive sneezing fits and the coughing is pushing every few seconds. After an intense coughing fit at their locker, Character A is forced to grab onto the locker door to keep from toppling over as they start to sway. Character B is downright worried now and scolds Character A before carefully leading them into the parking lot and into the car to go back to Character B’s house. Character A tries to protest but Character B brushes any complaints off. 

uh oh baby time

forgot to post this thing i found in my garage

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

Hi could you write something where A has been hiding sickness for a while now, but suddenly B got sick as well (maybe got it from A) and everyone else are too busy so they ask A to take care of B not knowing A is worse off? Maybe A even gave up some comfort items or the last meds for B?

just a disclaimer that this is all in good fun and not actually recommended treatment for the following illness - I just wrote purely from vibes lol 😆

A suppresses another cough in the corner of their elbow, disguising it as a clear of their throat. They’ve definitely felt off for the past week or so - deep aches and chills all the way to their bones, a constant cough, and the desire to just stay curled up in bed - but they’re not going to tell anyone that.

Instead, they pull on a sweatshirt and head down to the kitchen to make themselves a cup of tea to ease their shivers, praying that today is the day they finally take a turn for the better.

“Hey, have you seen the hot water bottle anywhere?” C bursts into the room, eyes searching urgently, just as A takes their first sip.

“Um…yeah, it’s in my room.” And it’s been my constant companion for the last two nights because I ache all over and can’t get warm for anything. “Why?”

“B woke up not feeling great, so I was gonna grab it and give it to them. You’re good if I take it?”

“…Sure.” A rolls their shoulders, rubbing their aching joints and trying to stretch out their sore muscles. They’ll take a hot bath later, then.

“Thanks,” C says, darting back out of the room, then suddenly poking their head back in. “Hey, A?”

“Hmm?”

“Listen, I’ve got a bunch of errands to run today and a work meeting I’ve got to go into the office for, and D’s working later at the hospital, so do you think you could look after B?”

A shrugs, clearing their throat. “Sure.” If C’s asking them, then B must be much worse off than them - so they owe it to them to suck it up and help out.

After they finish their tea, they head upstairs to B’s room. B’s curled up in bed reading a book, hot water bottle laying on their stomach.

“How’re you feeling, B?” Despite not feeling well themselves, A has to admit that B looks a little wan and peaked.

B sets the book down, coughing into their elbow. “I’m okay. Just a fever, aches, that sort of thing.” Their voice is scratchy, but they’re clear-eyed and alert.

Same as them a few days ago, then. Guilt washes over A - if they’d have just confessed to being sick, they could’ve isolated and B would be okay. This is all my fault. “Well, can I get you anything?” They try to brighten their voice, but overdo it and it just comes out sounding forced.

But if B notices, they don’t let on. “Maybe….some cough medicine? It’s all in my chest, and coughing hurts.” They rub their breastbone with a wince, pulling the hot water bottle over their chest.

“On it.” A shuffles off to the bathroom, pulling the brown bottle they know all too well from the medicine cabinet. There’s only a little left, but they don’t even give it a second thought - B needs it more, and they can text C to grab more while they’re out. Their hands tremble as they pour the remainder of thick liquid into the little cup, and they squeeze their eyes shut to try and stop shaking. Come on, A. Get it together.

By the time A sets the dose of cough medicine on the nightstand, their vision’s swirling in their eyes. Even walking to the bathroom was exhausting.

“A, are you alright?” B sits up in bed, eyebrows furrowed as they pick up the dose and knock it back. “You’re really pale.”

“I’m…I’m fine.” A sudden shudder rattles their teeth and they lean on B’s bed for stability. Despite their layers, their whole body’s just gone ice cold, a sheen of cold sweat and goosebumps covering their body. They tilt toward the bed and lean heavily against the mattress, bracing themselves with both their arms, suddenly finding it hard to take a full breath between the deep, painful coughs.

“A, I’m serious, are you sure you’re…”

But A doesn’t hear the rest as their knees slip, and they’re falling down, down…..

“A. Wake up. Come on, now.” B’s raspy voice cuts through the haze, commanding with an edge of fear. They’re out of bed and on the floor with them, looking just as shaken as A feels. “Get up. Please.”

A blinks awake, immediately aware that B’s at their side, tugging at their sweatshirt, trying to lift them off the floor.

“A. Get in bed. Now.” B’s voice is someone between stern and on the verge of tears. A’s so spent that they can’t even respond verbally, so as B half-lifts them with their remaining strength, A claws at the comforter to pull themselves up, up, until they tip onto the covers in a heap next to B. They cough deeply, the effort burning in their chest, and moan slightly. In a minute, they’ll get up and care for B.

“A….are you sick too?” B’s crackly voice sounds small and scared, and A wishes that they could spare them from this.

I should’ve said something. This is my fault. I’m sorry.

But a sob is the only thing that can escape their lips as they nod. They’ve been trying and trying so hard not to bother anyone with this, and now they’re collapsing in front of the only other sick person in the house.

“God, A, why didn’t you say something?” The words are angry, but A can hear the tremble in B’s voice.

“I’m sorry,” A weeps. “I just didn’t know what to say.”

“Hey, hey, you’re alright. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped.” B clears their throat, resting a hand on A’s shoulder. “You’re just scaring me, is all. Tell me what’s up.”

“I’m so cold,” A chatters weakly, hugging themselves. That’s all they can get out, anyways. In reality, they’re feverish and cold to the bone, shivering from head to toe, and their chest is on fire. They’ve barely done anything and yet they can’t catch their breath, and the air feels thick and heavy when they breathe.

B hurriedly covers them with a blanket, pulling them close and rubbing their shoulders, pressing the hot water bottle to their chest. A clings to it like a lifeline against their sore chest, but the chills still course through their body. Nothing warms them - they’re slowly freezing from the inside out, even though they can feel their head and joints burning with fever.

The next hours (or days - A’s lost all sense of time) are an absolute blur. They’re aware of a voice shouting, thought they sound like they’re underwater, even though there’re right next to them. Hands tug at their clothing, pulling off their sweatshirt, and in their fevered dreams, vultures peck away at them, and they’re unable to fight off the vicious birds. Cold, damp rags are laid across their forehead and over their chest and stomach, and to them, they’re trapped in the deepest ocean, and seaweed wraps around them and chokes the life out of them.

And the shakes - god, the shakes are unlike anything they’ve ever felt. Great, rolling earthquakes of chills from their core that rattle their bones and teeth so hard they’re scared they’ll break. At times, it seems the only thing keeping them together is the warm arms that hold them tight and the gentle whisper of comforting words in their ear.

When A surfaces from the dark hell they’ve been trapped in, they realize they’re still in B’s bed, covered in piles of blankets. D hovers next to them, fiddling with a small orange bottle, and the night table has been filled with all sorts of medical paraphernalia - medicine bottles, a nebulizer, a stethoscope and box of tissues. Perks of living with a doctor, they think, but they’re too drained to poke fun at B about it.

They’re acutely aware of feeling worse than they had earlier. Everything aches - their arms, their legs, their back and shoulders, especially their chest, and even shifting in bed is painful. Not to mention that they’re still freezing, and they can’t take a deep breath.

“What….happened?” They rasp, coughing between each word.

“Hon, you’ve got pneumonia.” D slides onto the bed next to them, pushing A’s hair back off their forehead to feel their fever. “How long were you feeling this bad?”

A shrugs. “Couple days.” D gives them a pointed look, but doesn’t push further. Instead, they pop open the small bottle and tap two pills into their hand.

“Take these,” D says. “B called me at the hospital freaking out, and we were able to chat with the doctors and get some antibiotics to pump into you for the next few days.”

A’s too tired to respond to that, so they just oblige as D slips the bitter medicine under their tongue, then props their head up so they can sip some water to chase them. As they sit up, the blankets slip from their shoulders and allow the cool air of the room underneath, setting off another round of shivers that send them clutching at the covers. D hurriedly tucks A back in, gently rubbing at their shoulders.

“Shhhh, you’re alright. You’re okay.” The chills seize their body for what feels like an hour, but finally, A stops shivering enough to ask the question on their brain.

“B, how’s B?”

“Fine. We still think they’ve got a bad cold, but they shouldn’t get nearly as bad as you if we take care of them.” D smiles sadly, gazing up at the ceiling. “They’re in your room - we didn’t want to move you.”

As if on cue, B pokes their head in the door, blanket wrapped around their shoulders. A’s awake enough to see them lean against the door, exhausted from their own illness.

“B, I thought I told you to stay-“

“Is A okay?” B asks it in that crackly, worn out voice of theirs.

D glances back at A. “Still pretty sick. But we’ve got some medicine in them now. Once C gets back with the rest of the prescription, I think we’ll be out of the woods.”

B nods, coughing into their own elbow. “Sorry you’re sick, A.”

A nods, stifling a coughing fit of their own, cinching the covers up to their chin. In that moment, B darts back into the room, carefully settling on the bed next to A while D’a back is turned. When D sees it, they exhale and roll their eyes at B’s clinginess. “B, you need rest. Go back to-“

“Can’t I stay here? Just for a little bit?” B’s voice is pleading, and they nestle closer and rest their head ever so gently near A’s stomach.

D finally relents. “A few minutes. But only until their nebulizer treatment’s done. You push it, and you’ll end up like A here.”

B nods, sneaking under one of A’s many blankets and wrapping an arm around A’s waist. D fiddles with something on the nightstand and turns around with the mask of the nebulizer in their hand, then gently eases it over A’s face.

“There. That’ll help your breathing a bit.” D rubs their hands together and surveys the room, and with every breath of the medicine A wants nothing more than to throw their arms around D and thank them for helping them be able to breathe better. But D leaves to go get something else, and B curls closer, pressing themselves into A’s side like they’re scared they’ll fade away.

“Don’t you ever sacrifice yourself like that again, okay?” B’s voice is shaky, and they gently rub A’s side.

A nods weakly, letting their tired eyes fall shut. They wish they could pull B close, but they can’t bring themselves to pull their arms out from under the warmth of the covers. So instead, they just roll toward B and hope they get the message. And from the way B hugs them tighter, A thinks they do.

new fic In Which Team Snakemouths New Home Is Not Quite As Ideally Set Up As Canon

It took a lot of work to get there, but finally they’d gathered enough berries to pay for a house.

“Mhm. It's good to not be homeless anymore.” Leif remarked. “We’ll be sleeping on the floor, but at least we’ll have a floor to sleep on.”

Beette narrowed her eyes at her, “...Oh!” She huffed, going back to her resting (lightly smug) expression. “Did I not mention? You can have the furniture too.” She waved a hand dismissively as she spoke. “It’s just not worth the berries to have it shipped all this way, especially when none of it was anything special.”

“Gee, thanks,” Vi muttered.

“You could have been a little more gracious,” Kabbu told her as they made their way toward the Hive’s exit. “Anyway, I would have thought you’d be excited to get something for free.”

She crossed her arms. “Technically, we bought it with the house.” A sigh. “Of course it’s good! But that doesn’t mean I have to like how she said it like she was being all charitable. Ugh.”

“So, your usual problems with other Bees,” Leif said.

The sun had already set as they got off the elevator, the town dark and the desert chill settling in.

“Hey!” Vi called, “Where do you think you’re going?”

Leif pointed just ahead of where she and Kabbu were walking. “The inn. To sleep.”

“We just bought a house , with beds, and you want to waste money on an inn?”

With an overdramatic groan, L eif l eaned against the wall.

“... She does have a point,” Kabbu said, although he snuck another glance toward the entrance and the light emanating from it.

“But it’s so far .”

“We don’t have any berries left to pay for it anyway,” Vi said.

Leif flopped to the ground. “You planned this, didn’t you.”

“No?! How would I know how much of a reward we’d get for that last request?”

She grumbled, but got up and followed the other two.

The mine tunnels cut down travel by a lot, but it was still long enough that even Vi was slumping by the time they exited the Palace. She leaned her head against the doorframe of the house – their house – as Kabbu figured out which way the key went in the lock. When he got it, they all practically fell inside.

The house wasn’t particularly wide, but it went pretty far back, and the height of the ceiling bordered on r idiculous . The open front took up most of the floorspace : living room, a small dining area, kitchen, and a ladder up to a hatch in the ceiling in a single space. More importantly to them in the moment was the back rooms. One, a little small, appeared to have been used for storage. The other, the bedroom...had a single, oversize bed.

For a long, silent moment, they all stood in the doorway staring in at the room. The Leif and Vi yelled “Dibs!” at the same time and ran for the bed.

Vi shoved at Leif, but it didn’t knock her far, so by the time Vi flopped onto the bed, she was right behind her.

Leif managed a tenuous grip around her, but Vi wasn’t holding back her flailing. So she collapsed forward on top of her.

Which did quell her for a moment, with a sharp yelp. But then she was back, and managed, with a pointed jab, to shove Leif off of her.

Except she ended up on the far side of the bed instead of off it.

“H-Hey now, there’s no need for that!”

They halted mid-tense for lunging at each other to look at Kabbu.

He was still in his original spot in the doorway, waving his arms. At the pause in their tussle, he relaxed a fraction. “There’s plenty of room. Can’t you just share, at least for tonight?”

They both looked down at the mattress. He wasn’t wrong .

With a huff, Vi fell back onto what she guessed was her side now, limbs splayed out. “Guess Bee extravagance comes in handy every now and then,” she muttered.

Leif had started to melt into the covers, but suddenly perked up. “Wait, where are you going?” she shouted at Kabbu.

He stepped backward back into view. “Getting ready to sleep?”

“You’re not going to fit on that couch.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me! I’ll figure something out!” And then he was gone again.

They both settled in under the covers, but despite their earlier exhaustion neither fell asleep.

“If it was anyone but Kabbu I'd think he was guilting us on purpose,” Vi said, curled on her side facing the wall.

Leif also didn’t move, laying on her stomach. Her “mm” was heavily muffled by the pillow.

Another long silence.

Vi shifted around three times, increasingly more agitated, until finally she kicked her blankets off.

“...You know, we’re pretty sure you could fit on the couch.”

For several seconds, she glared up at the ceiling. Then, still without looking, she smacked at her.

“Ow,” Leif said, in possibly the most sarcastic tone she’d ever used.

Vi ignored her, getting up and trudging toward the door. “Kabbu!”

From the other room, scuffling. “Vi?” His voice was slightly higher than normal. What seemed like the exact next second, he dashed around the corner, skidding to a halt in front of her. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” She batted his hands off her shoulders. “Just...get in here.”

He followed, but stopped in the doorway, clearly still having expected something to be wrong.

Leif patted the empty side of the bed. “Get in.”

“But-” He looked at Vi.

She sighed heavily. “We wanted to at least c heck to see whether we’d actually all fit.” She had no intention of squeezing in with her teammates, but knew it would be the fastest and easiest way to get Kabbu to agree to lying in the bed .

It turned out they did fit without having to be on top of each other, although they couldn’t avoid brushing against each other (much to Vi’s annoyance, since she’d somehow ended up in the middle).

Kabbu sighed contentedly as he settled in. “Thank you for checking, Vi; I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.”

He shifted for a moment like he was going to comment on that, then stilled. “Goodnight, Leif. Goodnight, Vi.”

“Good night,” they both murmured.

Now all Vi had to do was wait until Kabbu fell asleep and climb out to sleep in the other room, unbothered. Which shouldn’t take too long. The bed was obnoxiously comfortable, she noted, now that she was less distracted, and it was cozy-warm (even for her, since she’d shoved a blanket between herself and Leif). Even if they weren’t already tired, it was a perfect setting to just doze...off…

Next thing Vi knew, she was blinking awake in morning sunlight. Because of course in typical Bee fashion, the curtains were slightly more decorative than functional. (In her own room back at the Hive she’d managed to get them thick enough it could look like night at any hour. Just how she liked.)

As she got over the brightness, the immediate next problem she noticed, as she tried to move, was that she was now squished between Leif and Kabbu. Even more annoyingly, Leif had grabbed one of Kabbu’s arms, hugging it to her front (faced away from the other two), which effectively trapped Vi there.

“Ugh.” As much as she could manage, she started poking at Leif to get her to move.

She stirred, mumbling incoherently, but then just snuggled in tighter, if anything.

So she renewed her efforts, until finally Kabbu pulled his arm back and rolled over –

Vi grinned, stretching. Now, she could-

– and onto the floor, a loud crash as the movement knocked over the small bedside table.

Swearing under her breath, Vi crawled to the edge of the bed. “Kabbu? Are you okay?”

It looked like the table had fallen away from him, which was good. He wasn’t facing her, but he was moving a little and groaning, which was...at least better than being unconscious or screaming. She was pretty sure on that one.

The mattress sank down just behind her. “What did you do this time,” Leif said groggily, as she draped herself over Vi.

“It was an accident!” she yelled, at the same time as Kabbu sat up, mumbling “I’m alright.”

With a laugh, she slid down to check on Kabbu. “Guess that means we need a bigger bed.”

Vi sat completely still for a moment, eyes narrowed as she tried to process the remark. “...Why?”

“So we can fit better.”

She scowled. “I am not sharing a bed all the time.”

Apparently satisfied that Kabbu actually hadn’t gotten hurt, Leif turned to face her, draping her head and arms across the bed. “Then we’ll keep this one and you can get your own.”

“...Um,” Kabbu said in the background.

“Why do you get the nice expensive bed?!”

“Because you don’t want to share.”

“Oh, so I have to pay-”

“Alright, hold on.” Kabbu stood in between the two of them, blocking sight lines. Using the same firm tone, he said, “We will figure out something that works for all of us. Okay?” And then he stood there expectantly.

“Okay,” they both agreed, in different flavors of mild exasperation.

“Good.” Then, he deflated, sitting at the edge of the bed with a huff. “But can we please at least eat breakfast first? We have a kitchen to make it now and everything.”

“Do we have anything to cook?” Leif asked, sticking her face back in the blankets. “We doubt there’s anything here already.”

“We can go shopping,” he said, undeterred. “Maybe even get a little extra of things that’ll keep.”

Vi kicked her legs out. “Ok, but we have to check the kitchen first, ‘cause my berries are on there being just enough cooking stuff to make it look nice. She seems like one of those you ‘shouldn’t have to cook at a vacation home’ types.”

There was a stretch of silence.

“Fry’s,” they chorused, and went to head out.

bad cold stuffy talk

"I have a bad cold id by dose ad it's baki'g be s'deeze so buch. I'b so stuffed up ad I cad't stop s'diffli'dg ad I deed to blow by dose so badly. ah-ah-uh-CHOOOO! sdf. excuse be. could you please had be sobe tissues?"

"I've had a bad cold for two weeks dow a'd I thi'dk—hhdjisschewww!—I thi'dk I'b catchi'g adother ode."

"AH-CHOO! I'b so sorry, I did't bead to s'deeze od you. I have a bad cold a'd I—ACHOO!—I haved't beed able to stop s'deezi'g all week. AHAHCHOO! Sorry... I hope I did't give you by cold."

"I had to walk hobe last dight a'd it was raidi'dg a'd I did't have ad ub'brella. I got so cold a'd wet a'd by dose was ruddi'dg so buch. By the tibe I got hobe I was shiveri'g a'd by dose was bright pi'dk a'd I was s'deezi'g like crazy. I could'dt stop s'deezi'g all dight a'd dow I have a really stuffy dose a'd it wod't go away. I thi'dk I caught a bad cold frob bei'g id the rai'd."

"I'b—ADJCHOO!—I'b cobi'g—AHD'JHISH-CHOO!—I thi'dk I'b cobi'g dowd withAHGK-CHOO! with a bad AHHTCHOO! AHGKT-CHOO! with a bad cold. AACHOO! AHHPTCHOO! AH-AAH-AAAHH–AAHPTSSSCHOO!"

Sociopath Profile: Mothiva

Species: silk moth (Bombyx mori or Bombyx mandarina) From the 2020 video game Bug Fables: The Everlasting Sapling

Mothiva here is one of the interesting occasions of having a heroic sociopath. She is firmly allied with the side of good and abhors the atrocities committed by the Wasp King (another sociopath). However, being a hero doesn't exactly mean that she's a selfless individual.

She is a popular celebrity with dozens of fans, but it's mostly a way of fueling her ego. The hero gig is something she does because she wants to have some recognition to be seen as the star she believes she is, not necessarily for the good of other bugs. All she wants from the expedition is fame and glory, and she's willing to hinder the other groups to get it for herself. The fact that she decides to attack Team Snakemouth and take their missions just because they were getting more popular than her.

This translates to a distinct lack of empathy for others. While she may project the idea that she loves all her fans and cares about her allies, she could not care less about them. If her partner Zasp gets knocked down in battle first, she'll reprimand him before reviving him without showing a bit of concern for his safety. It is noted that he does have affections for her, but she doesn't return them at all. Although she draws the line at Wasp King treating his forces like cannon fodder, she still isn't above using violence against her allies.

While she is an unpleasant person, Mothiva knows how to act around her adoring fans. She has a very superficial persona of the bubbly and caring celebrity who adores all her fans with all her heart. However, after Snakemouth discovers her true nature, it goes to show how calculated that persona was. And they were formerly fans of her until they experienced her true personality.

She also displays no remorse for any of this behavior. Eventually, she is on the receiving end of two beatings and losing the support of her fans in the Termite Kingdom. The problem is that she suffers no real consequences aside from that. In fact, she still has a wide following since knowledge of her crimes hasn't gotten out further. Chances are she has not learned much.

Mothiva may not be a criminal, but she's still rather sociopathic despite this.

Female Sociopath List

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