#anyways Im going to go eat soup

[amphirrhvx]

🩸

non bloody version

[littleplantfreak]

tbh seeing Sakura learn to rely on people is so satisfying and kinda healing which ig is part of the reason why people resonate with it and love it too but the new episode always makes me go

[lethxia]

headcanon time. aizawa eats a lot.

the only reason he doesn't use the lunch break for eating is because it "saves time" to deal with both lunch and dinner at once, aka absolutely clearing off three times the amount of whatever hizashi gets them both for dinner.

nemuri sees the shit ton of empty takeout boxes on the teachers dorm dining table one night and goes "u invited the kids over for dinner???" and aizawa shoots her a weird look from the couch where he's getting ready to take a nap and wake up in time for all that energy to go into patrol, replies "no?????" nem just. points at the trash. aizawa says "oh yeah. yours is in the fridge. i finished off the rest." nemuri stares at him and back at the pile. this man just ate like quarter his weight in spicy ramen.

[altruistic-meme]

being sick when you live alone SUCKS what do you MEAN I have to make my own soup :(

[jessicatredes]

being emo & grumpy instead of crying in my notes app

been feeling v nauseous lately about the fact that next week is the anniversary of my absolute sewercide spiral that lasted a month and the fact im sick just like i was then and anxious and irritable all the time. i hate the fact it feels like i will always in some way be the sad elven year old wishing to not wake up or become terminal. i want to hug her but also wish she would explode lol.

[todayisafridaynight]

arakawa wouldve wanted this for me

[jiyoos]

one of my managers triggered my ocd so bad and now i feel like everyone at work secretly thinks i am a horrible person and i want to quit and i know it’s not real but like!!!!!!

[phagodyke]

back home and my washing is done and I need to eat lunch and do my ironing and then I've done all the tasks on my list and I can spend the rest of the day having a mental breakdown and then go straight to sleep woohoo

[br1ghtestlight]

i used to eat healthier bcuz i was living with my grandparents who actually know how to cook and who had homecooked meals almost every single night. Anyway i do miss their cooking but also there were SO MANY potatoes. somewhat related but i wish i knew how to cook their homemade soup i want soup right now. NOT canned soup

[ragingtwilight]

BRUH

EVERYTIME I feel like im starting to feel better my body just turns around and flips me off

mf sends me off w a shove down the stairs, nausea, sweating/tremors, headache, confusion, dizziness, it pantsed me, it stole my lunch money, it gave me a swirlie, i cant fuckin win

[mojaves]

i need to be turned into clay and moulded into a vase

[heartyearning]

DELISHES chicken soup made with the extra coconut milk i used for a delishes carrot curry earlier this week. the only downside is that i have been eating carrots for weeks & i was finally thru with my thing of carrots but i had to buy new carrots for this soup. so now again i have to figure out what to do with carrots.

[divinedelusional]

rafe being grumpy when he's sick

rafe cameron x female reader

word count: 678

warnings: none

rafe never got sick anymore like ever

ever since he hit puberty he wasn't catching cold anymore, no health problems (expect for being fucked in the head)

so to say you were surprised when you saw him lying in bed under a thick duvet in the middle of summer would be an understatement

"yo topper what happened to rafe? i leave for three days and my boyfriend's completely wiped out??"

"is he asleep?"

"yeah! that's what's weird!"

"weird? girl you're lucky he's asleep, he's been a complete diva last two days"

rafe woke up after an hour and told you that he must have got sick when they were out at the beach and suddenly it started pouring cold rain and he was soaked before he got in the car

"yeah they brought me some syrup so cough is gone, but who gives a shit, this fuckin fever is too much anyways"

turns out rafe barely ate the last two days since he couldn't get out of bed and he was sick of the food topper and kelce were ordering for him

"wendy's not a type of food you eat when you want to get better rafe"

"hell i know, but what, is it my fault i have to have idiots as friends?"

you rolled your eyes and told him to lay down with cold compress for the fever

in the meantime you drove to get grosseries and made him chicken soup

you could see he really liked it but when he ate he mumbled a quiet "thanks" and went upstairs

that's the last you saw him that day and you were kinda mad at him

next day it didn't got better since he noticed you didn't come to bed last night

"i went to guest bedroom, im not catching whatever you got"

you didn't see him much for another day, only when he was coming to the kitchen for next bottle of water

so at least he took your advice to stay hydrated

not like you could hear him saying: hydration this, hydration that, who tf would want to pee that much

topper was right, you lived with a diva under one roof

grumpy, 6'2, hoodie clad diva

but on the third day you were finally about to reach a truce

rafe came for breakfast and you could see he felt better, as he was almost smiling and wasn't shivering

you ate breakfast in silence but he followed you like a lost puppy to the couch where you sprawled out to watch tv

you were watching real housewives of atlanta and rafe sat down with you for 3 episodes fourth now staring

he was quiet but all of the sudden he started to complain how awful it is to be sick in the summer

he tried to grab your attention, he knew you were testing him, you never binged rhoa for that long

you also knew exactly what he was doing, he was trying to make up with you but you weren't having his ways, so you informed him that you're going to take a swim

rafe was upset that his plan didn't work out, apparently not only sitting through four episodes of rhoa wasn't enough sacrifice for you but it also made him hungry

so he decided to win you back with very simple and little bit goofy solution

you came back after hour and a half, also hungry

you found rafe sitting at the table

there was a faint delicious smell in the kitchen

"you made soup?" you asked rafe after taking a peek to his plate

rafe didn't respond and held out a spoon to you, letter pasta forming words: im sorry bby

you couldn't be mad at him anymore

you ladled yourself a bowl of soup and formed a response on your spoon as quickly as you could

rafe smilled at words ur cute and let out a chuckle

"i missed this smile" you said and kissed him lightly, happy when you felt him smiling into the kiss

"and i missed those lips"

a/n: my first work for rafe, hope it was okay and feedback is really appreciated ♡

bottom divider by: @astralnymphh

[ghostprinceiii]

As soon as I get home I am never leaving my house again.

[mrcrawly]

MORE house MD headcanons (just hilson)

finished season 2 officially FINALLY. took forever. anyway these freaks live in the little furrows of my brain and eat my grey matter so here's this

House:

had multiple deadly allergies as a kid that he grew out of as an adult for some reason

the pickiest eater you have ever seen. the canned soup is not a laziness thing he's just afraid to waste his money on shit he won't eat

composes his own songs on the piano when he's got time but never writes then down, freestyles that shit

DEFINITELY has some pot he smokes a few times a year

obviously when Wilson learns this he's concerned that maybe it's laced and is like House where are you getting this and House literally tells him the exact location on the exact part of town on the exact street and where the guy normally is on weekdays because he assumes Wilson wanted in on it

subconsciously thinks of Chase, Cameron, and Foreman as his children. of course he doesn't realize it nor would he ever admit it so don't misinterpret but lwk worries about them a lot and talks about them to acquaintances in such a way that multiple people actually think he has three grown up children

gets overstimulated fairly easily but not the shut-down-get-quiet overstimulation he starts yelling and hitting things and getting pissed off

has bad anxiety but in the opposite way most people do. doesn't get anxious in most social situations at all whatsoever but give that man ten minutes alone with his thoughts in his own house and he's sweating

doesn't sing but has perfect pitch. sometimes someone in the office will hum something or make a noise and he'll just absently go "E flat" (based on one of my irl friends noah you won't see this but you freak me the fuck out with that)

runs cold all year (something something universal recipient)

eventually stops drinking because it gives him panic attacks and nightmares

sad weepy drunk

pretends not to care about patients but there have been several times that a patient died and made him completely shut down for days at a time

views his disability as something to compensate for

if House MD took place in the modern day he would definitely have a twitch live stream about a patient to get idea

chronic nail biter

most definitely would own one of those massive fucking brick flip phones even if the show was set today

he doesn't know what OS stands for. couldn't tell you what a USB-C looked like if his life depended on it. wouldn't be very good at operating a smart phone. has an extremely durable cheap phone because he's always dropping and/or throwing it

Wilson:

lactose intolerant methinks

or possibly gluten sensitive

would still eat gluten bread and dairy products regardless

never quite got the hang of chopsticks. if he gets sushi or Chinese takeout with House, House makes that little chopsticks contraption for him

do you guys know what im talking about

the kind of autism that makes you feel bad about everything ever all the time and obsessed with a particular thing

definitely collected baseball cards at some point in his life

doesn't really keep kosher but hates most meat so he rarely ends up mixing dairy and meat anyways

if you gave him one of those Nee Doh nice cube things he would sit there and play with that shit for hours at a time

if he was born in the right generation he would have loved slime as a kid

ended up really close with House's team

does marching Halloween costumes with House every single year

House actually doesn't like Halloween (lots of walking) but it makes Wilson happy so usually he agrees

one year they went as American Gothic (House insisted on being the old man with the pitchfork and now everyone has photos of Wilson in a bad blonde wig)

really good in pediatrics. it really wears on him if he has a young patient but he handles it really well

taught himself to make balloon animals for the pediatric cancer patients

runs warm all year (something something universal donor)

big spoon

has joint problems but he insists it's not that bad so he won't go get seen for it

favorite movie is Pretty in Pink

office teddy bear. working in oncology is hard and some of the nurses just don't take it as well, so if he's around he takes it upon himself to comfort them

shockingly pretty good with technology and phones. i like to think this is because he has a fairly adaptive personality as it is and medical technology (especially in oncology) is always changing so he's used to keeping up with new things

definitely would have one of those fucking military ass otterboxes and a tempered glass screen protector and a camera protector like someone is gonna come run over his fucking phone

lwk i think he'd be kinky asf but im gonna leave that there

[jimmyscanongf]

returning the favour

Mouthwashing - Jimmy x reader

Summary: Your boyfriend Jimmy calls upon you to care for him after you infected him.

Content warnings: fluff, Jimmy, he’s too sick to be much of a bitch in this one.

i wrote this directly in the post editor because im still fucking sick. and sickness is just on my mind. i think he would be adorably pathetic if he were sick. anyways enjoy <3

After the click of the deadbolt unlocking, you opened the door and met with Jimmy’s face- pale and colourless save for the feverish splotches across his cheeks, all chapped lips and puffy, watery eyes, scruffy beard even scruffier than usual. A ratty, well-worn comforter wrapped around his slumped shoulders. His hand retreated underneath to clutch the loose edge closed again as he turned away from the door, went back towards his couch, the slow shuffling gait of an old man with back pain.

“Look at wh-” He started, voice deep, clogged and croaky, but the words caught in his throat swiftly and he devolved into a deluge of coughs, dry and painful sounding. By the third time he tried catching his breath only to start hacking again, you dropped your bags and went to his side, rubbing his back as he doubled over, as his whole body heaved with each attempted expulsion. Though there was nothing to expel from his lungs, you knew that well enough, having gone through the same thing the week before.

“Relax, Jim, relax. Try to breathe slow. It’s that tickle in your throat, huh? It’s awful, I know.” Your own voice was still a little raspy, still recovering from your own week of hell. He caught hold of his breath, each respiration shaky. You felt him tense underneath your hand again but he stopped, wrestling down the autonomous instinct to cough.

“Look at what you’ve done to me…” He moaned at last, soft and weak, and gave a thick sniff through his nose as he stood up, turning his red-rimmed gaze to you. A look of betrayal playing on his face.

“Oh…” You intoned in mock insult, but softened. “Okay. I take full responsibility. But I’m here now to help. Go sit down.” You waved him over to the couch and he flopped down, slumped over on his side and curled up under the blanket, knees to his chest. You shed your outerwear, hanging your jacket on the hook and lining your boots up neatly on the tray. He groaned as you went to bring the bags closer to the couch.

“I’m freezing… I can’t get warm,” he mumbled. “And I’ve never ached so bad in my fuckin’ life…”

“I’ve got you some medicine, don’t worry.” You rifled through the bag, and placed a rattling bottle of Advil and the same bottle of NyQuil he had brought you, now half empty, side by side on the coffee table. “Advil will help with the aches, the NyQuil is for everything else. Let me go get you a glass of water.”

You got up and headed to his kitchen, bringing the crinkling brown paper bag with you, the savoury smell of fried food wafting about. “Are you hungry, Jimmy?”

“No… But I know I should eat. I haven’t really had anything today.”

“Okay, I’ll make you a little plate. You should have something if you’re taking ibuprofen anyways.” After placing the bag on the counter, you opened it, staples tearing strips out as you recalled his feeble voice over the phone: “…and could you go to the fried chicken place? With the good mac and cheese… And fries, and coleslaw.”

You smiled with warm affection, how cute he could be without even meaning it. This was definitely less nutritious than his soup he had so graciously made for you, but it was calorie dense, at least. You took a glass and a plate, and a fork from his cupboards and spooned out a small portion of everything, selecting a prime piece of chicken, and filled the glass with water from the tap. Then, brought both back to the living area, setting them down in front of him.

“Thanks,” Jimmy said. He was sat upright now, shivering under his blanket. He had poured himself a dose of the cough syrup and knocked it back with expert skill. Opened the Advil and shook out two little reddish brown pills, swallowed them down with a sip of water.

You went back to your bags, pulled out a big rolled up blanket, and unfurled it, the electric cord hanging from the corner falling to the ground with a plastic thud. “I went and dug my electric blanket out of storage, just for you,” you sang with a grin.

All folded in on himself, pale and clammy, with dark bags under his eyes, he looked so small sitting there, listlessly eating from his plate. It tugged at your heart. “Aww, you look terrible,” you kissed his messy hair as you wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, taking the cord and plugging it into the wall socket next to the couch.

“Thanks, babe. You looked fresh as a spring rose when you were all snotty, hacking your lungs out,” he muttered sarcastically through a mouthful of food, while he took the control for the blanket and clicked it up to high.

You just smiled, gently scratched his scalp with your fingers as you passed by on your way back to the kitchen. “I’m gonna make myself a plate. Hang in there, Jim.” He just hummed. You heard him flicking through channels on the TV behind you as you walked away. Coughed a little, though not as intense as he had when you came in.

When you came back, there was some documentary playing low, and Jimmy was laid down, curled and trembling under the heated blanket, eyes shut, shuddering breaths passing his lips. His plate was abandoned, half eaten on the coffee table, though he had drank the water down. The only free space was at the end of the couch by his feet, so that’s where you sat. Jimmy stretched his leg out, just enough to make contact with the sole of his foot to your thigh. You pulled the edge of the blanket over to cover him and keep his body heat in. Then you started eating, half-watching the documentary that you couldn’t really hear, time punctuated by the occasional cough or groan coming from him at the other end of the couch.

When you were finished, you got up, and Jimmy’s legs retreated back further under the blanket with a low whine. You took both plates and his glass and went to the kitchen, scraping the leftovers into the trash before leaving the plates in the sink. You refilled his glass and returned to the living area.

“…I’m really cold… and it hurts so bad…” Jimmy whimpered, eyes still closed, and you pouted, feeling so sorry for him as you looked down. You set the glass down, and pressed your palm to his forehead.

“Hopefully the meds kick in soon. You’re burning up.”

“Yeah I bet,” he murmured as your palm went from assessing his temperature to caressing his face. You moved to sit back down where you were before, but he stopped you. “Wait- c’mere,” he looked up at you with glassy, half-lidded eyes. “I want- I need your body warmth…” He pleaded. He sounded so sweet when he pleaded with you.

“You want me to cuddle with you?” You asked in clarification.

“…Yeah…”

“Alright, Jim. Let me in then,” you agreed. It wasn’t a hard choice. “Sheesh, and the way you fought against cuddling me…” You teased in false hurt.

“I hadn’t been sick with what you had yet. But you’ve already been sick with what I got now, so it doesn’t matter,” he lifted the blanket with his one arm and hissed through his teeth, shuddering with the other arm pressed close to his chest while you crawled underneath. You pressed your body face to face with his. He dropped the blanket over you and drew that arm in close to him, crossing them between your bodies for as much warmth as he could. You moved your own arm, prompting him to lift his head so you could slip it underneath and cradle him in your arms. You rubbed soothing circles into his back and he sighed, still trembling slightly in your embrace.

You bent your neck down to kiss him on the forehead, giving little scratches on his scalp through his hair. “You’re gonna get all sweaty and then I’ll get sweaty,” you complained, light and unserious.

“Worth it.”

“How do you know?”

“Cause I’m always worth it, aren’t I, darlin’?” He mumbled, voice heavy with exhaustion.

You sighed. “Can’t argue with that.” Certainly it was worth it, at least to be the one holding him in your arms instead of the other way around. Jimmy didn’t like to feel weak, or small like that. It was a precious, rare moment for him to let himself be held, cradled and comforted so softly while he curled up and pressed himself close to your warmth. “You are worth it, Jimmy.” You kissed his forehead again, and he only hummed in response.

It was nice. He rubbed his leg against yours, up and down, and gradually his shivering stopped, all while you caressed his back and his hair. His body relaxed against yours, his breathing gradually slowing until you could tell he was asleep.

Your heart softened, an aching outpouring of love flooding through your chest. “I love you, Jim,” you whispered, and closed your eyes. Not much else to do here but sleep along with him, and wait for him to wake up, damp and scrambling to cool down in the open air. But you were perfectly content to lay with him until that moment came.