#I don’t feel so good

[igotthisaccountunderduress]

*watches Taylor Swift x thg edit* *takes 100 psychic damage*

[quietlyimplode]

the language of flowers and silent things

Whumptober 2023: Day 13 - I don’t feel so good

Warnings: nightmares, illness, vomiting

Word Count: 1.6k (gif not mine)

Summary: Clint gets sick after a mission and Natasha learns the importance of having your own space. (First dates)

A/N: Happy Friday dear ones. Well done on making it through the week.

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

.

2009

NEW YORK

Their changing relationship is new and Clint knows they both feel the shift.

Neither willing to say anything.

Fury’s emphasis on partnership had set a punishing pace of nonstop missions and constant surveillance in the first year.

It was effective.

Natasha was used to it.

Clint was not.

The Red Room had never believed in rest, and Clint seemed to revel in it.

She’d often find him asleep on the couch with the window open, and she kept telling him that it wasn’t safe.

He’d laugh, tell her to join him.

She’d become very familiar with the way he worked; and with his apartment; and he’d become more familiar with her trauma and skills sets.

It all had a way of bonding them.

The second year, Fury had sent them on more long term missions, deep cover, and Natasha found when they were apart she missed him.

They come back together like magnets to debrief and talk.

The hours moved quickly, and she wondered if he missed her like she missed him.

It was silly really, she told herself, that there was no way; with all her baggage that he would ever feel the same.

She was glad he was finally home.

Two weeks he’d been in Antigua.

She carefully juggles the donuts and apples in one hand and knocks on the door with the other.

He doesn’t answer and she picks the lock anyway.

“Clint?” she calls, “it’s me.”

She wanders in and finds clothes strewn across the apartment, telltale signs he’s home.

She sets the donuts and apples on the bench and continues to the bedroom.

“You’d better not be naked, again,” she calls out, half covering her eyes as she pushes open the door.

She finds him on the bed, in his boxers asleep.

Natasha walks over to him and touches his shoulder; heat radiating off him.

“Clint?”

She shakes him.

She’s never worried over someone before, not consciously at least, and the new feeling makes waking him feel urgent.

“Clint wake up,” she repeats, urgently.

Eyes peak open and he groans.

“Hey.”

Attempting to get up, he moves slower than usual, and doesn’t seem pleased to see her.

“Your face is warm,” she tells him, “do you have a temperature?”

“Idunno,” he says, groaning again and laying back down.

“Im’k,” he tells her, rolling over.

“Your sick?” she asks redundantly, knowing the answer before he refutes it.

She leaves and gets him some painkillers and water, returning to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands.

“Clint?”

He looks up, his face sorrowful.

“I don’t feel so good,” he confesses, then promptly vomits on the floor.

He groans.

“Sorry,” he says, looking up with glazed eyes, “sorry.”

Natasha steps around it, pushing him gently back into the bed, and passing him water and the two little pills.

“Take this,” she urges.

He stares at her for a minute before following her instructions, then leaning back he apologises again.

Natasha goes to bathroom to find cleaning supplies, and returns to clean the vomit.

“Mmmsorry,” he mumbles, “please.”

He raises her head to find him staring again, and she assures him gently.

“Go to sleep, Clint,” she whispers.

“Be here?” he asks, tiredly.

“Yeah,” she assures him, “I’ll be here.”

.

Clint talks in his sleep, things she’s sure he wouldn’t want her knowing.

He calls out for his mother, and she sits by him, drawing circles on his hand and telling him stories that she knows to calm him down.

The fever spikes and drops and she sits with him through it.

Fury calls through with a mission for her and for the first time, she asks if she can stay grounded.

She tells him that Clint isn’t well and she needs to stay.

Fury hadn’t said much but his distain was clear.

He told her, she had a week, and sent through the mission packet regardless.

She hears Clint get up, move to the bathroom.

Dutifully, she follows and knocks on the door asking if he’s okay.

“Nat? You’re still here?”

His voice sounds pathetic and she tells him she’ll warm up some food. He calls out thanks and she leaves him be.

She sucks at this.

Natasha knows Clint just seems to know how to make her feel better, but she has no context, only what she’s looked up. She knows to track the painkillers, make sure he eats and drinks, and sleeps.

She thinks maybe, he might be feeling better, the last two days passing quickly.

Smiling as he enters, he greets her with a tiny wave.

Natasha offers him food, but he beelines for the coffee.

Holding up the cup, he grins.

“Make sure you eat something with that,” she smiles back, glad to see him acting more like himself.

Clint steps forward.

“Thanks,” he says, offering her the coffee.

“You know, for taking care of me.”

Natasha ignores the acknowledgment.

“Are you feeling better?” she asks.

Clint shrugs.

“Better enough I think,” he nods taking another sip.

The silence is comfortable, as they both move around the kitchen. The morning passes slow, with Natasha pushing Clint to the couch to rest.

She watches as he dozes then allows herself to do the same.

.

The forth night of staying with him is the longest she’s ever lived with someone in a setting that’s not contrived.

It’s the most comfortable she thinks she’s ever been. This apartment, this small place of a friend’s home, is perfect in all the ways she would think a home would be.

It makes her want to live somewhere other than the base. To have a place of her own.

She thinks Clint knows she’s not ready to leave, because he doesn’t say anything, and tells her to stay with him; that’s he’s still not 100% and needs some help.

The night has been kind and they’ve made it through another movie in his DVD collection that he swears everyone should watch. Movies like The Princess Diary and Miss Congeniality are at the top of the list and though she makes fun of it, she knows they for her.

She smiles, a spontaneous moment that Clint notices, and offers a smile on return.

If only her 15 year old self could see her now.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks after a moment.

“Do you think they’d let me get an apartment?” she asks, “away from the base?”

Clint looks slightly off, and she thinks she did something wrong.

It’s a moment before he nods and smiles back.

“Yeah! Of course, yeah!” his enthusiasm is infective.

“Would you want to live somewhere near here? There’s an apartment nearby? I could ask? It’s not big but it’s like in the apartment block over!? Nat, you could learn to cook like you wanted! Not that you couldn’t before, but it’s easier when it’s your own place,” he rambles.

“You could get stuff? Do you know how good stuff is? A cool rock, your favourite hair conditioner, oh! A favourite mug! Not that you couldn’t before, but like it’s different in your own space.”

She smiles, slightly overwhelmed.

Natasha sits with her hands around her glass, and nods.

“I’ll help you, okay? We can work it out, together,” he assures.

“Yeah,” she says, sipping her drink, “I’d like that.”

.

He knocks on her door, flowers and food in hand.

Moving from foot to foot, Clint knocks again impatiently, and waits.

It’s slow but finally she opens the door.

She looks worse for wear than he’s ever seen her.

Dark circles under her eyes, pale face and a slight sheen of sweat on her face.

“Oh Nat,” he says, sympathetically.

He still thinks back to the time, months ago, when she took care of him.

“How long have you been feeling like shit for?”

She shrugs.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He pushes his way inside.

“It’s okay, I am feeling better, tell Fury I’ll be back on Monday,” she sighs.

He laughs.

“I’ll do no such thing.”

He looks her over again.

“Go to bed,” he says softly, “I’ll make us something to eat.”

Natasha must really not be feeling well, as she pads slowly back to bed, and climbs in without argument.

Later, he finds her in the midst of a nightmare, sweat drenched and hand in mouth to stop the screams and tears.

Clint’s heart breaks.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, like soothing a small child, “everything will be okay.”

She looks up, eyes unseeing.

“I don’t feel so good,” she whispers, “they’ll kill me if they know.”

His heat drops.

“Who’s going to kill you? Hmm? Here in your own apartment?”

It seems to orient her, so he continues.

“No one can touch you here, not with the bullet proof glass, or the soft blankets that surround you. No one would find you here, with your name changed to Natalie. You’re safe and I’ll help protect you, even though you don’t need it.”

She closes her eyes and tucks herself in next to him.

“Mmmsorry,” she whispers.

.

Their first date is a non event, and although both of them acknowledge that it was their first date, it’s more because it’s the first time they kiss.

Popcorn and a movie on Clint’s couch, with Natasha dressed in his clothes and Clint in his oldest hoodie.

Anything else, they agreed, would be contrived.

All day they play someone else, dressed up and faking happiness.

In their apartments the masks drop.

It seems right that the first time and the first date is perfectly in a place they feel the most safe.

He promises though, that he’ll take her to all his favourite places, and kiss her there as well.

.

[hellverse]

a lesson in faith

[kybercrystals94]

The Common Cold

By KyberCrystals94

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2023|Day 13|Prompt 13: “I don’t feel so good.”

Rating: G

Words: 451

Summary: Tech catches the common cold.

The common cold should not - in theory – affect clones whose DNA has been specifically engineered to withstand against a multitude of hardships that would be of detriment to the average human; however, perhaps the demands of war and the need for new soldiers has had an impact on the Kaminoan’s quality control.

Which may explain why Tech wakes up in the middle of his sleep cycle with his throat raw and his head stuffed to the point he worries his skull might combust. His bones and joints ache beneath sore muscles and sensitive skin. Miserable feels too mild a term.

It takes some mental preparation, but he manages to roll out of his bunk to stagger over to the med kit and search for anti-inflammatory and decongestant.

Hunter catches him.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, “Are you injured?”

“No. I don’t feel so good. I’m sick,” Tech bites out, voice nasally and hoarse.

“Sick,” Hunter echoes, deadpan, as though the word has never been introduced to his vocabulary until this very moment.

“It’s just a minor cold,” Tech clarifies. He rattles off his symptoms, “Aches, congestion, sore throat…”

Hunter takes a measured step back. “Why don’t you go back to bed, and I’ll bring you whatever medications you’re looking for.”

“I am perfectly capable...”

Hunter gives him a look that borders on concern and disgust. “It’s not about capability, Tech. It’s about you touching our medical supplies with your infected hands.”

While the words themselves feel a little...dramatic, the man has a point.

“Fine,” Tech relents, holding up his infected hands in surrender. “I just need an anti-inflammatory and decongestant.”

Hunter nods. “And where’s the disinfectant spray?”

Tech rolls his eyes, but he’s too tired and sore to think of a snarky remark. “You’ll find the cleaning supplies in the bottom drawer of the supply closet.”

Crosshair chooses this exact moment to make an appearance, catching Tech’s words with absolutely no context. “What sort of mess did you make, Hunter? Playing with the armor paint again?”

“It’s not for me. Tech is sick.”

The sniper casts Tech a dirty look. As if Tech chose to get sick. As if this were his idea of a good time. Tech tries his best to match the disdainful expression before announcing, “I’m going back to bed. You had better hope that the air filters are in working order. I would hate for anyone else to fall ill.” He makes sure to force every ounce of sarcasm he possesses into his tone.

Maybe his brothers would finally start to replace simple filters like he asked countless times.

And if they do get sick, maybe they will discover that a little sympathy goes a long way.

END

Author’s Note: I wrote the draft to this story way back when the prompts were released…then today came, and I am down for the count with a stomach bug. What are the odds?? 🥲

So here we are, a story based on true events with my own siblings growing up. I got you, Tech! 😂

Tag List: @isthereanechoinhere96 @followthepurrgil @amorfista

✨Let me know if you’d like to join my tag list✨

[medusapelagia]

Eddie's month day 11 + Whumptober Day 5

written for @eddiemonth and @whumptober-archive 

Prompts: Eddie’s month day 11: Pirate | The Last in Line - Dio  | Adventurous Whumptober day 5: “It comes and goes like the strength in your bones.”

Cold Compress | Infection | “I don’t feel so good.”

Rating: Mature Relationship: Eddie Munson/Steve Harrington WT: injuries, sickfic WC: 2265

Being a pirate wasn't exactly Eddie's dream.

He wanted to be an artist and travel the world while playing his lute, but his father thought that it would have been easier selling him to the pirates than trying to raise him after his mother’s death, so Eddie lived all his childhood on a boat, learning how to make a sailor knot and avoid a noose around his neck.

But even being one of the most famous pirates in the world couldn't help him when the royal guards found him in a brothel and sentenced him to death.

Hazard of the job.

He has had a nice life after all, he has traveled all over the world, met people of every color, and even found himself a lovely second in command.

Yes, because after the big storm that almost destroyed the Black Fire, they found a lifeboat with a young boy an inch from his own death.

That's how Steve Harrington, the only heir of the Harrington dynasty, quickly became Eddie's second in command.

Eddie looks at the sun that is rising, it's probably the last time that he can see the dawn, so he tries to enjoy it.

There is a moment when the blue of the night shifts into red and then pink, and Eddie thinks about the color of Steve's lips.

He laughs a dry laugh. He should have said to his second in command that he was deeply attracted to him instead of going to a brothel to take off the steam.

Well, he will have time to think about that in hell.

The telltale sounds of footsteps and keys clanging one against the other catch his attention.

He asks himself if they are going to send a priest or not, he is not the religious type but he would gladly exchange a couple of words with someone before leaving this life.

The metal around his wrist is cold and harsh, but he doesn’t complain. He always knew that sooner or later he would have ended like that.

At least Henry Creel will not have his treasure. He hid him too well to let someone as stupid as him find it. The only one who has a possibility is Steve, and Eddie is very pleased with that. Maybe he will think about him when he will spend all the doubloons that he will find.

Sweet Steve, never killed anyone but managed to terrify the Black Fire’s men enough to make them obey his orders.

He will fucking miss waking up and seeing him still asleep a few feet away from him.

“Are you having a nap in there, Munson? Maybe I should come later.”

Eddie turns toward the door, seeing the familiar face of his second in command.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Freeing you? Or do you have other plans? The boys are ready to sail as soon as we get there, so step back and move your stupid ass from the door.”

Steve takes the keys and opens his cell.

“How?”

“Later. Now move. It will not take long for Creel to find out that his men are having a rest!”

Eddie nods and follows him, running toward the exit of the prison.

Steve stops, pushing Eddie behind him “Fuck.”

“What?”

“They are waiting for us. I have seen at least three archers. There is another exit?” he asks.

“How the fuck would I know! They didn’t exactly give me a tour, Steve.”

“Fine.” Steve kisses the golden necklace with the crucifix that he has worn since the day they met each other. The one that became so hot under the sun that left a burning scar on Steve’s neck “Here goes nothing.” he wraps Eddie into his arm and then starts to run, shooting at the leg of the archers.

“Kill them! Kill them!” Eddie yells, but Steve keeps moving, dragging Eddie with him until they get to a little boat hidden in the dark of a tunnel.

“Give me your gun.”

“Eds…”

“Give me the fucking gun!”

Steve sighs but gives him the gun and starts to paddle toward the secret cove where the others are waiting for them.

A couple of arches point at them and Eddie shoots them in the head, feeling almost merciful.

“Muson!” a familiar voice screams and he sees Henry Creel’s blue eyes pointed at him.

He is holding a quiver and Eddie has no more bullets.

“Shit.”

Someone pulls him from his jacket and Eddie falls in the water.

When he reemerges he notices that Steve has flipped the boat, using it as a shield.

"Genius idea, Harrington!” he praises him, while they keep swimming toward the cove.

When they get there the crew cheers them and they quickly leave the bay.

“You know what? Almost dying made me want to live even more adventures! What do you say? Are we going to have some fun?” he asks the crew, Steve is a few feet behind him, smiling at him.

Everything is fucking perfect.

***

The next few days everyone on the ship is excited about the new plan for assaulting a boat that is transporting species from the Indias. The only one who doesn’t seem enthusiastic is Steve.

Even if they sleep in the same room they almost don’t see each other.

Eddie is worried. Did he say something wrong?

He tries to give space to the boy but on the third day that he is ignoring him he goes to him, locking them in the hold.

“So what? Did something happen, Harrington? Is your conscience giving you shit? I did what I had to do. I kept us alive!”

Steve nods, without turning.

“Come one, Steve. Look at me! Tell me what the fuck is wrong!” he yells, turning the boy harshly.

“I… I don’t feel so good.” the boy replies before falling to the ground.

“Steve?! Steve?! Help! Someone! Help!” he yells, but he is the one who closed the door, so the crew has to break in.

“What happened?” Henderson asks, getting closer.

“I don’t know. He told me that he didn’t feel good and fell to the ground.”

Will Byers gets closer to them “He is burning up.” he states and in that moment Eddie notices that the golden skin is covered in sweat.

“What the fuck?”

“Bring him to his bed.” Will says, while running to his cabin and gets back with many potions.

“Hey, Steve? Stevie? Can you hear me?” Eddie calls him while washing his face with a wet towel.

Will strip him and they see it, a red angry wound on his left arm with a dirty bandage around it.

“When did this happen?” Eddie asks, looking at the crew.

“He was ok when he came to rescue you!” Dustin protests, and when Will removes the bandages they see the point of an arrow stuck in his flesh.

“Creel.” Eddie growls, looking at the injury.

“We have to take out the arrow. It’s causing an infection.” Will states, taking a little knife and sanitizing it with a burning candle.

“Hold him.”

As soon as the hot blade touches Steve’s skin his eyes open wide and he starts to trash around, but they are holding him tight.

“Bite this.” Eddie says, giving him his own belt to bite.

He sees tears in the eyes of the boy while Will opens the wounds and finally removes the point of the arrow, and then he loses consciousness.

“Steve?”

“He passed out. It’s for the best because I have to clean the wound.” Will says without stopping his work until he feels satisfied, then he stitches the wound and puts another bandage on.

“What now?” Eddie asks, looking at the feverish boy.

“Now we pray.” Will replies, washing his hand in a bowl “We have done all we could. Now it’s his body that has to fight the infection.”

Fuck.

“Try to make him drink something and keep his temperature down with some cold compresses. How far is the nearest island?”

“At least two days.” Lucas replies, looking quickly at the maps.

“Make it one.” Eddie orders.

“But…”

“I don’t give a fuck Sinclair. I want Steve to see a doctor as soon as we can and I don’t give a fuck if you will have to blow on the sails.”

“As you say, captain!” he replies, running back to the helm “Have you heard fleabags?! We have to run! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

When Eddie is left alone with Steve he takes his hands into his, kissing the knuckles and feeling the sweat on his skin.

“Steve, you can’t leave me. Do you hear me? You can’t  fucking leave me! Not like this! Please. Come back to me. Come back…” he whispers, changing the cold compress on his forehead and winching at the warmth that the boy irradiates.

***

Will comes a few times during the day to address his condition, the wound seems better but the boy has never gained consciousness. They manage to make him drink some drops of water and keep his lips wet, but the fever is still high.

“He needs medicine stronger than the one I have.” Will explains to him “I can’t do miracles Eddie!” he complains when the black-haired man starts to yell at him that he has to do something.

Eddie is not a religious person, but that night he prays to every single god that he knows, he even takes Steve’s necklace with the crucifix and hides it under his shirt, he doesn’t want to risk that anyone would steal it.

When they finally get to the closest island Will and Dustin go to find a doctor and bring him on the boat.

“This will cost you. It will cost you a lot.”

“I’m Eddie Munson, Captain of the Black Hell. It’s your own life enough of a payment?” he asks, holding his knife at the man’s throat.

“You don’t do my kind of job on this island without meeting some pirates. I want the money.” The man replies unamused.

Eddie growls but takes some doubloons and throws them at him.

“Half now and half if he survives.”

The man smirks, taking the money and then looking at the injury.

“Your boy did well, the wound is well cleaned, his body just needs some help to fight the battle.”

He takes some liquids and starts to mix them, but when he tries to make Steve swallow the medicine it just falls from his lips.

“Shit. Do you have something that could help? We have to push the medicine in his mouth. It’s not like you can kiss him, right?”

He absolutely can.

“How much?”

“All the vial, if you can.”

Eddie takes it in his mouth and then pushes the bitter liquid into Steve’s mouth, trying not to lose even a drop of the precious medicine.

“What now?”

“He will need another dose in a few hours. And after that, he is on his own.”

Eddie stays with him, cleaning the sweat from his face, doing his best to keep him hydrated, while he keeps staring at the vials on the table.

He will give the second vial to Steve and if it will not work… he will follow him.

He writes a few notes for the crew, holding Steve’s hand all the time.

When it’s time he takes the vials in his mouth and pushes it in Steve’s mouth, licking his tongue for a moment. 

If this is going to be their only kiss he wants to enjoy it as much as he can.

Steve’s tongue twitches under him.

“Steve?” he calls, astonished.

The chestnut boy opens his eyes “Eds?”

“I’m here. I’m here.” he replies holding him tight “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t feel so good…”

“I know, baby. You gave me quite a scare, but now you are better. Aren’t you? Come on, drink some water.” he pushes a cup of water against Steve’s lips.

“I had the strangest dream…” he tells him, his bright-for-fever eyes staring at him “I dreamt that you kissed me.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah…”

“And did you like it?”

Steve blushes and nods “I did. I’m sorry if it’s not appropriate or…”

“I kissed you. And I’d love to kiss you again. It’s that alright?”

Steve nods and they kiss. It’s just a peck, a simple touch of lips but it’s the best kiss ever.

“Now sleep a little. I’ll be here with you.”

When Steve falls asleep Eddie takes the doubloons and gives them to Dustin “Bring this to Murray and go have some fun, As soon as Steve is feeling better we are leaving.”

The boy nods, smiling.

Eddie looks at him running through the crowd.

Garreth, his oldest friend, gets closer to him “Did something happen?”

“Something did happen, Gar. Something did happen.” Eddie replies with a smirk.

The other sailor nods “The two of you will be ok if I go have some fun too?”

“We will.” he answers “I think that we are going to be more than ok.” 

When he comes back to his cabin Steve is still asleep, but his breath is calm and regular and he is not burning up anymore.

Eddie gives him back his necklace with the crucifix and then takes a doubloon.

“You are going to be a nice addition to my collection.” he says to the golden token.

A few months later Eddie has the same necklace with the crucifix Steve has and they share not only the cabin but also the bed.

[emewtselch]

Yessssss let’s all start our days at 4pm!!!!

[ashes-and-ruins]

i don’t feel so good.

my thoughts are racing and my hands are shaking and is this what it feels like to fall? to fall from yourself? is this what losing feels like? is this what this is? my hands are shaking, why are my hands shaking? my wings are burning right off of my back and oh god, i’m icarus—though is there a version where icarus didn’t fly too close to the sun, because i never made it that high, i was just trying to fly as far as i could, and now look where that got me. my lungs are seizing and my body is at war and my mind is somewhere short of lost.

i don’t feel so good.

[justanillvampire]

I’m shaking ever so slightly all over today. My heart rate is so low compared to yesterday and my normal I think. It’s 70 to 90 when my usual is like 90 to 110. Rough estimates but even walking around it’s 80/90’s when that’s easily 110/120.

I’m going to eat some soup see if it’s the fact I haven’t eaten much. I feel like I’m not used to my heart being like this.

I feel so nauseous too, I really just might need to eat.

My legs are shaky, my grip is shaky and unstable. I feel weak, weaker then normal. I dont know if the lower heart rate has to do with that or maybe this is just fatigue from yesterdays heart rate crescendo for a few hours of rates in the 130-160s.

Anyway I guess I’ll see how the soup works out and update later.

[error-silence]

New wip who this

Well technically it’s not NEW new

But I just now started working on making it digital…..

[zibanejad]

aj preller you just gotta trust me but clarke’s medicals are so much better than kinger’s. it’s true you just gotta trust me PLEASE

[shibesky]

my perception of the world has been shattered and my catchphrase no longer holds up. “even bad pizza is still pretty good” i have just eaten a pizza that is actually genuinely abysmal

[foxyfrolic]

You ever feel so hungry you might throw up?

[wastedutil]

[justanillvampire]

Something pretty to make you smile. Or it made me smile so 🤷‍♀️

moon and rainbow at sunrise by mark ham

[stimmingandstruggling]

more good news from tiktok: they’ve started blocking celebrities.

they’re calling it block party 2024. just blocking and ignoring countless celebrities who havent said shit about palestine. influencers, actors, anyone who went to the met gala, whatever, they’re getting blocked. and people keep talking about how cathartic it is, how good it feels, how they never realized they could DO that. there was some kind of subconscious law against blocking famous people, but it’s broken, and people are LOVING it. and it’s WORKING. a social media/digital advertising coordinator was talking about how ad companies are PANICKING, because they can’t accurately target anymore. so many big influencers, including fucking LIZZO started talking about palestine the MOMENT their follower counts started going down. and the best part? no one is forgiving them. lizzo posted a tiktok asking people to donate to palestinian families, and all the comments just said you’re a multimillionaire. put your money where your mouth is. blocked.

i feel like i’m witnessing the downfall of celebrity culture, right here right now. people are waking up.

[zimshan]

Attention Pennsylvania voters!

Senator Bob Casey’s race is now at a margin of 0.53%.

An automatic recount in PA is triggered with a margin of 0.5%. That’s a difference of 0.03% or a little over 2,000 votes. We need to make sure every ballot is counted here, and there’s thousands of uncounted ballots right now due to voter error.

Did you mail in a ballot? Check to see it was accepted here:

If it says anything other than accepted/counted/etc, your ballot needs your attention. A mistake in filling it out means that your ballot will not count unless you “cure” it. Check your county’s curing policies:

See full instructions for curing by county here.

You have until November 12 to cure your ballot in PA.

Do you know someone who mailed in a PA ballot? Please pass these links on to them. You may be the difference between their vote counting or not in a super close race.

Everyone else, you can help PA voters cure their ballots. If you live in Pennsylvania, you can help canvass in your county (see links in this thread). If you are in another state, you can sign up to call voters and help them cure by phone.

Want to help another state? Sign up for a shift through November 19.