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Dumb Doodle: Sick by ThaddeusMcBoosh Dumb Doodle: Sick by ThaddeusMcBoosh
Simon's head pounded. Well, maybe not pounded. That might've been a bit extreme. He wasn't sure how to define the unpleasant sensations that seemed to assault his temples, throat, and nose. They were unpleasant, though. And encouraged a lethargic state of mine he was not normally accustomed to. His head seemed to rest in a miasma of illness. He wasn't in any danger, but he was just ill enough to ground his spirits.

He laid in bed, quiet and wheezing. Each breath a reminder of his congestion. Each swallow a mildly unpleasant collection of seconds punctuated by a surprising soreness around the left side of his throat. Pathetic, really. The windows were shut tight to keep out any daylight, but by the watch on the wall he could clearly see it was only noon. And yet here he was. He had a carbine to tune. A paper to write. He had to pack as in roughly a week he was going to take what Lilith dubbed a "tour of duty" and return to the Broken Barrel for a month or two. 

He sniffled a bit. Bleugh.


He was so cold.

The door opened softly in the distance.

He could hear a familiar set of footsteps cross the door frame and pound the wooden floor. The weight and tempo were distinct enough to remember. Plus, she was the only one who ever really came in anyway.

Down went her bag.

He could hear the rubber soles of her shoes pivot a bit.

Oh the shame. The immensity of the shame. Simon Collins. Immobilized. Brought down by a meager cold. He cursed his earthly form. He pondered what he must've looked like. Collapsed in a mess of sheets and cotton.

Suppose he's had worse. But at least that was justified. Right?

A few shattered ribs and a broken nose condemned him to days of bedrest once. But that was from a boxing match. A fairy mage once put a hard-light construct spear into his stomach and damn near severed a femoral artery with a magic lance. But that was the field of battle.  So why in the realm of the Gods should this keep him still?

Suddenly, over head, a mess of white locks danced into view, illuminated by the bedside candle he kept for soft light. Finally a pair of wide eyes stared down at his, their gaze soft and familiar. Lilith loomed for a moment, taking a mere collection of seconds to bask in his smallness.

"Hey." She said quietly.

Simon gave a wave and grimaced a bit, embarrassed.

"How you feelin'?"

"Like a sack a' piss."

"That bad, eh?" Lilith rose to her full height for a moment, breasts heaving and slamming together in the confines of her sweater. "Have you been drinking water?"

"Yes." Simon motioned the the empty bottle next to him, matching him in height but more than doubling him in width. Lilith left it as a precaution so he'd always be hydrated without having to climb down the table he lived upon and heave open the small fridge she kept across the room.

He had downed the whole bottle.

Simon had quite an appetite, but he might've been pushing it today.

"Get plenty of rest?"

He nodded. "I don't suppose you know where my tools've gone?" He gave her a knowing look. 

Lilith looked off into the distance. "No. I don't." She lied through her fangs. She adjusted her bra casually. As casually as she could. His screw driver had been prodding her right breast all day. "But I'm sure you didn't need them with all the rest you've been getting."

"I could've at least had something to do besides-"

"Be up until four tweaking a clock?" She grinned, leaning forward and closing the distance between them.

Simon seemed to sink a bit, his head falling back into the oversized pillows. He was still cold. Lilith's enormous hand descended upon him, a single pale finger extended. She pressed it gently against his forehead.

"How's your temperature?"

"I don't..soddin' I don't have anyway to quantify that..." The closest instruments he had for that had been dipped in sulfur and sparking crucibles. "I'm 'jus really really cold."

"You want more blankets?"

"Do we have any more that're my size?"

" That looks like all we have. Oh-I got an idea." She brightened up a bit.

She gently worked her fingers under his body, lifting his body up a bit before stopping. "Uh..." She blushed, letting her mind get the best of her.

"" Simon seemed surprised.

"Well, uh, do you mind? I was just going to slip you into my collar and sorta-"

"Is it warm or did you just want to-"

"No no. It's really warm. But...uh...I guess I was sort of making it weird-"

"Go on. I'm not in a stopping mood." He sighed. Ever so gently Lilith fished his body out of his bed and through the air, then pull open the collar of her sweater. Already he could feel the heat coming off of her, the uncanny scent of strawberries filling the air.

As gently as she could, she deposited him into her collar and tucked him under an expanse of cotton weaving, the heat of her body and the friction of the sweater laying itself over him. He expected it to be, as he trusted her enough as it was, but she really was warm. She must've had a nice supply of blood running through her.

She pressed her hand against her collar, drawing him in a bit, her sweater covering him by an oversized comforter. She could feel him curl up against her skin a bit, clinging to the article of clothing.

"Sorry. Is this-"

"No. You're...actually really warm."

Lilith smiled and bounced on her heels a bit, trying not to move too much. "You want some soup?"


I'm sick.

I wrote a thing about being sick. Because I wanted to write again.

I'm too sick to say anything else. Or give a fuck.

But hey.

Acta non verba. 
Make of it what you will.
Add a Comment:
ChojinRyu750 Featured By Owner Edited Sep 1, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Awe that is cute :)
DoodleWill Featured By Owner Aug 31, 2014
Tis always nice to have people care for yeh when yeh sick.

Feyzer Featured By Owner Aug 31, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Petting the dog moment here? X3
DoodleWill Featured By Owner Aug 31, 2014
Getting all TV tropes up in this place yeh?
Feyzer Featured By Owner Aug 31, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Well, whenever the term happens to fit or sound appropriate, yes.
MegaScarletsteam Featured By Owner Aug 30, 2014  Hobbyist
hope u get better
TheRealYuma Featured By Owner Aug 30, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Sick of being sick?
Chessrook44 Featured By Owner Aug 30, 2014
D'awwww, poor little brownie.
TheRealYuma Featured By Owner Aug 30, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Brownie? Where? I hear the Scots will pay top dollar for them.
Chessrook44 Featured By Owner Aug 31, 2014
Right over there. [Points at Simon.]
TheRealYuma Featured By Owner Aug 31, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Funny, he doesn't look like a brownie.
Add a Comment:


Submitted on
August 30, 2014
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