#asthma musings

[dmcoffee]

Had to reup my emergency inhaler today and I got to thinking about my history of Asthma. (Surprise, it's a life-long thing!) I don't really know when they first started giving me these little things, Probably since I was six or seven? (My recall is fuzzy on stuff like this.) But I had one for a few years before the doctors worried I didn't know how to use it properly. So they gave us a thing called a spacer. It was just a five inch clear tube with a mouth hole on one end and a little spot to insert the inhaler's aerosol end. The idea was to inhale slowly when I could see the medicine being sprayed. And to make sure I wasn't breathing it in too hard (Therefore negating it's medicinal purpose) the tube had a little plastic harmonica. If the harmonica sounded, I was sucking down the albuterol too fast. If you think for one moment my wheezing ass was going to skip out on the weird little thrill of hearing a harmonic sound as I huffed the ever-living hell out of that stupid tube, you are fucking wrong. I tried not to use the damn thing, knowing full well my little brain would not resist the siren temptation to make a thing make sound while I am actively coughing my lungs out like a fish on land. But my mother wanted me to use it because "I paid money for it" and "I have to hand wash that medical device", and thus we all suffered from a doctor's foolish mixture of underestimating a child's ability to take her own fucking meds, and overestimating the dopamine hit of a stupid mini harmonica.

[werewolfbarista]

why do people like red bull so much........ this shit is wretched

[nohumaen]

I must say how much I love smoking aesthetics in fictional works, like, p much all of my muses are smokers...

yet I hate the idea of smoking irl and I want that far away from me LOLOLOLOL

[prestonmonterey]

advice of the day:

even while drawing absurd amounts of windows,, dont forget to breathe. youll regret it

still gotta finish the right windows TwT

and

the other building

but im making progress!!!

even if im not quite breathing

[cupcraft]

Be safe today with air quality everyone if you're in an affected area in US/Canada.

[nohalosinhell-archive]

I was a theatre kid, and I remember a few times on a few different shows when someone either forgot their cue or was having some kind of issue back stage such that they couldn't come on.

Look At This really captures that steadily increasing anxiety of saying and doing anything that comes to mind that's remotely in character and will distract the audience from realizing something's wrong.

[planetoflovers]

Not my dad trying to get on me about my weight mind you his hearts about to give out cause of his uncontrolled hypertension and all he does is lay on his bed typing away on his fuckass laptop

[milksnake-tea]

━━ to walk amongst the living .

Jade's last words continue to haunt Sunday as he is cast from the heaven of Penacony and goes from a Family Head to a mere traveler. On his journey to fully understand the struggles of mortals, he ends up becoming companions with you, a fellow wanderer.

sunday x gn!reader

contains: post 2.3, written before 2.7, sunday is hinted to have asthma, sunday is trying his best but bro hasn't touched grass in years so he's struggling, hardcore yearning from sunday

word count: 3.1k

a/n: SUNDAY TRAVEL SUNDAY TRAVEL SUNDAY TRAVEL SUNDAY TRAVEL BARKSI RIYGHGUGHU if hyv doesnt give us any crumbs on what he was doing before he runs into us again. EXPLODES

taglist: @sh0jun , @themoderatelyawesomeninja , @xphantasmagoriax , @rainswept , @lucensei , @akutasoda , @naraven , @scribs-dibs , @apathicace , @flurrina , @tragedy-of-commons , @cakechase , @kiiyoooo , @moineauz

“Achoo!“

The cold was starting to get annoying.

Sunday sighed, biting back his frustration as he wiped his nose with a handkerchief and tugged his scarf to better shield his face. It was a good thing he’d decided to bundle up before leaving Penacony; otherwise, he would’ve already died of pneumonia.

The Planet of Dreams and Festivities was the very definition of a paradise. Everything, from the colors, the sounds, and the temperature was carefully maintained to never be too much or too little.

Sunday did not have such privileges here.

He didn’t remember when the last time he saw snow was. Back home, the closest he’d seen to a natural landscape was the Moment of Oasis, where tourists lounged about on the spectacular beaches - and even then, Sunday hadn’t exactly had time to indulge in such luxuries.

His nose was no doubt red from the cold, and his thighs burned from the long hike he’d decided to torture himself with. Wind battered his hood against his face, occasionally blocking his vision or smacking him. Sunday’s wings instinctively shielded him from the incoming snow that somehow made its way past his hood. He grimaced at the feeling of the ice catching and melting on his feathers, already dreading having to clean them out.

Upon reaching a somewhat flat piece of terrain, he gave himself mercy and allowed himself to stop for a break. His halo, his main weapon against frostbite, glowed gently with a heat not unlike a fireplace as he surveyed just how far he’d traveled.

Mountains upon mountains greeted his gaze, all jagged and covered with the same multi-colored snow that was the staple of this planet. He stood among fallen aurora, and down below, he spied a cluster of bright, warm lights that stood apart from the greens, blues, and purples of the snow: the cities, where he’d first arrived here.

Zastrugi was a planet infamous for its harsh conditions, rivaled only by the recently reintroduced Jarilo-VI. Even so, the people here prided themselves on their resilience, and gladly welcomed those seeking a challenge or a death-defying thrill.

In other words, it was a cemetery of the arrogant and the ambitious, and a perfect fit for Sunday’s current goals. After all, what better way to live a mortal’s life than to endure their struggles?

Sunday looked down at himself. His legs were weak, shaking and trembling from the hike, and no doubt were only kept standing due to adrenaline. His chest burned from haggard breaths, cut again and again from each frosty inhale. His head felt light. He wanted to die.

If this wasn’t suffering, he didn’t know what was.

It was invigorating.

Never before had he felt more alive, with the frost biting at his cheeks and the pain that ransacked his body. He could hear his heart beating in his ears, fighting yet strong and resilient and surviving. A soft smile graced his pale lips as his breath fogged in the air.

How strange, he mused. To find such joy in his own suffering… Was he always this twisted?

“I was wondering when you’d catch up.”

Sunday turned to see you sitting on a rock nearby, snow brushed off of stone so that you could sit without wetting your pants. One of your legs is propped up as you look out at the view, your bored expression proof enough that you’d been sitting there for a while.

You were a fellow traveler he’d met sometime on his travels. Sunday still groaned whenever he remembered your first encounter; he’d gotten swept up in a sudden storm and remembered too late that 1.) he didn’t know how to swim and 2.) his wings were not waterproof. Had you not dove into the raging tide and pulled him out, he would’ve drowned for sure.

Ever since then, you’d accompanied him on his travels - or, rather, he accompanied you on yours. Sunday, with what little he knew of the world outside of Penacony, knew not what his destination was, nor where he should head off to. Your goal was a little more simple - you wanted to see all that was beautiful in the universe.

Even if that meant climbing to the tops of unreasonably steep mountains or camping out in unbearingly hot deserts.

Thankfully, you weren’t opposed to his offer (begging) to join you - on the contrary, you were thankful that he had been the one to say it because in your words, you didn’t know if he would survive if you left him alone by his lonesome.

He still didn’t know what to make of that. For his own pride, he chose to ignore it for the time being.

“Were you waiting long?” he asked, gloved fingers holding the edge of his hood as to keep both it and the snow out of his face. You shook your head, your own hooded cloak flapping in the wind as you looked back out at the view.

“Not as long as I might’ve in the past,” you joked lightly. Sunday breathed a laugh.

Back when he’d first walked alongside you, he’d fought a long and hard battle with his own stamina. It was embarrassing when he thought back on it, how many times he’d have to ask you to stop for a break or even had to be carried by you to the nearest rest stop. Sometimes he wondered why you kept him around, but of course, he never asked.

But he’d grown stronger and more resilient since then, at least, he hoped he did - if not for you, then for his pride.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Your voice was rather wistful as you spoke, a little breathless and hushed, yet clear in the crisp, scarce air. “What do you think? Was it worth it?”

“I’m not so sure,” Sunday tried for a joke of his own - although, he wasn’t all joking. No matter how much he traveled, he could never get used to the feeling of his own breath scraping against his lungs as he heaved for air.

You, intuitive as ever, sighed knowingly. “Sit down. You look as if you’re going to pass out.”

Brushing aside some snow on the rock, you shifted over to make room for him. Gratefully, Sunday fought demons in order to stop his trembling legs from collapsing in from under him as he lowered himself onto the rock. That would’ve been mortifying.

His breath fogged in the air as he sighed, thankful for some rest. Around him, the snowfall was gentle and slow, and as the moonlight from Zastrugi’s two moons caught on each individual flake, ribbons of light came and passed like wisps of smoke.

An echoing click of metal caught his attention. He looked to his side and was greeted with a cloud of steam warming his face. In your hand was a small metal thermos that held what he assumed is either tea or hot water. You gestured for him to take it.

“Drink; you need to warm up before we continue. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you died of hypothermia.”

Sunday breathed his gratitude as he took the thermos. Your fingers brushed slightly, but with the cold, he registered it only after it was gone, and by then it was too late to respond. Still, his heart skipped regardless, and he turned away before he dwaddled too long, thankful for the cold that had already reddened his cheeks.

He blew gently on the liquid within, and took small, carefuly sips as to not burn his tongue (it’d happened before, and it was humiliating). He was delightfully surprised with the subtle floral tastes of white tea, his favorite. It was obvious that it had been sweetened, and the honey added was just enough so that it satisfied his cravings.

But, as Sunday drank away, the tea warming him from the inside, he thought to himself - he never told you he liked white tea specifically, nor did he ever tell you how much sugar he preferred. How did you know?

Had you, every time you’d taken him to a local cafe or restaurant, watched and observed? Had you remembered, from the few times you’d seen him order or make a drink for himself?

His hold on the thermos faltered as fire rushed to his cheeks. In his chest, under all those layers of cloth and cloaks, a dance unfolded, his heart tip-tapping away, a steady rhythm that was both nerve-wrecking and comforting.

Sunday inhaled deeply, wings fluttering ever-so slightly, and pushed his thoughts away to focus on the tea, nearly burning his tongue in the process. You only raised a brow before returning your sight to the distant city. A comfortable silence enveloped the two of you.

As Sunday gazed down upon the scene, a sharp ache in his sides and a stiffness in his legs, he wondered - was this how Robin felt, when she performed from that grand stage of hers. Sure, the aurora couldn’t compare to the lightshow that accompanied his sister’s concerts, but still - there must be some similarities. Here, at the top of this world, he felt light, as if nothing could ever touch him.

“O chosen one, who dared to exceed his bounds. Sever your wings, descend to the mortal realm, and walk their lands. See what this world is truly like.”

Lady Bonajade’s words rang in his head. Instantly a scowl twisted his features.

He’d never liked the IPC, and he wasn’t going to start now - especially not with a snake like her. He could still hear her taunting voice, that indifferent condescention presented as good-natured pity dampening his mood. There wasn’t much that could truly anger him, but it only seemed natural that it was yet another IPC Stoneheart that managed the feat.

But still, she had been right… much to his chagrin. As much as he hated to admit it, he had flown too high from the people he wished to protect. Even the Astral Express - whom he respected far more than Jade - had made it clear: Know your people before you decide what was right for them.

“What’s on your mind?”

Sunday flinched. You peered at him from behind your hood, face gentle yet your brows were furrowed ever so slightly.

“Ah, I apologize.” He lowered the thermos to his lap. “I was… thinking.”

“I know,” you replied. Shifting slightly so that you could lean back on your hands, you stretched your legs out into the snow. “You do that a lot.”

With a kick, you sent the snow flying into an arch off the cliffside, creating another ripple in the aurora.

“Thinking too much in a place like this… seems like a waste, doesn’t it? Try and take a break from your brain, and just- see. Look at where you are.”

Sunday raised an abdominal wing to block the multi-colored snow from falling into his thermos. Shaking the snow off the twilight feathers, he sighed, staring into what remains of the tea.

You clicked your tongue. Snow crunched, and cloth shuffled, before the cap of the thermos blocked his view. Screwing it closed, you took the thermos from him, a twinge of annoyance tugging at Sunday as he mourned the last bits of tea still left in there.

Before Sunday could complain, however, you beat him to it.

“Don’t give me that look,” you teased lightly. “We’re almost to the top - you can finish your tea there.”

The beginnings of a pout tugged his lip, but with a reluctant sigh, Sunday abided. Pushing off of his knees, he brushed himself off.

“Very well,” he relented, but not without fixing you with a flat stare first. If you saw it, you didn’t say anything, for you had already begun your trek to the mountain’s peak.

The higher you climbed, the harsher the snow became. No matter how beautiful something was, Sunday found that he didn’t care if it was pelting him in the face with as much punch as a bullet. His hood became his shield, and he hurried to keep in pace with you.

Because unlike him, who specialized in Imaginary and Quantum manipulation, you were a master of fire. Your footprints lasted longer than his for the mere fact that you seemed to melt through the snow, and as long as Sunday kept close to you, he wouldn’t be at risk into becoming a popsicle.

But that was easier said than done. Again, you were far more traveled than he was, and as such you moved at a much faster pace despite the melting snow’s attempts at slowing you down. Sunday was already dreading the next morning - he’d have to do a full-body stretch for at least half an hour after this was all done if he wanted his legs to be functionable tomorrow.

Every now and then, you would glance back at him, as if making sure he hadn’t been swept up in an avalanche - which, if it weren’t unfortunately a valid concern, would’ve damaged his already ruined ego. And each time, Sunday would meet your gaze, and offer the tiniest of smiles before returning to his suffering.

By the time you had reached the summit, Sunday was well about to pass out. The air was thinner up here, making it hard to breathe, and his exhaustion did not make things easier. But he had done it, and surprisingly, he had kept in pace with you.

He breathed as much as he could, swallowing what little oxygen he could grasp from the top of the world. A wheeze or two ripped through his lungs. Wordlessly, you pressed his inhaler into his hand, a pat on his back to congratulate him. Sunday nodded his thanks.

Once his medication had done its magic and he no longer had to focus on the struggles of breathing properly, he realized that the world had gone silent. Snow no longer pelted at his face, and the aurora had gone dark.

And then he swept his gaze, and saw the clouds below him. Somehow, without noticing, he’d passed through them, and entered an entirely different plane of Zastrugi. Here, there was nothing but sky, and the stars - real, actual stars, not the false ones created by the snow, danced in nebulae above him.

And there was you, your cloak flapping in the wind as you gazed up at the cosmos. With so little light, he could only see your silhouette, but he has the impression that your back is turned towards him.

You are silent, as you always are when you see new sights. In moments like these, it was as if your breath had been stolen, and it is all you could do to absorb the picturesque scene before you, engraving it into your mind to store for all eternity.

Once, Sunday had expected you to take photos of your journeys, as a memento. But you never did. No, rather, you would stand there, memorizing every little detail, and then return to your temporary home to paint it instead.

And he swore, those paintings were almost always more magnificent than the places they were based on.

Sunday took one last look towards the everlasting cosmos before coming up to your side. Rather than the sky, the image he drank in was you. Your expression was soft, yet awe-struck, much like a child seeing the world for the first time. There was always a sort of melancholy in your eyes, but also a love for everything that he could drown in if you allowed him to.

You loved the world, and it was that love that he adored.

You turned to him, noticing his gaze, and for a moment, it was if time itself had stopped. His breath caught in his throat, and words died on his tongue. All he could do was look into your star-speckled gaze, all the colors of the universe casting their light onto the two of you.

What expression was he wearing, he wondered? A smile, or perhaps… something else?

But then you raised your hand, brushing it against his cheek ever so slightly, and all of those thoughts disappeared.

A smile wove onto your lips. “You had some snow left on you.”

Sunday tried not to miss your hand as it left him. His fingers trace what you had left, his gaze becoming lidded.

“Ah,” he breathed.

The corner of yours eyes crinkle, and you turned to the cliffside. Leaning over slightly, you peered over the edge, the clouds obscuring the true height of the fall. Sunday blinked.

“What are you planning…” he sighed, crossing his arms. You chuckled, turning slightly to meet his eyes.

“One way or another, we have to get down,” you pointed out. Sunday’s expression fell flat.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Your feet toed the edge, sending rocks and snow tumbling down. “You said you wanted to experience life as a mortal to the fullest, didn’t you?”

“I wasn’t aware that included throwing oneself off a mountain.”

You shook your head, a grin surfacing. “You’re no fun, Sunday. Don’t you have those wings of yours? What do you have to worry about?”

Sunday’s answer was immediate. “You.”

“How sweet of you,” you commented as he came to besides you. “Well, then, you’ll just have to catch me, won’t you?”

Sunday squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. “[Name], I swear upon all that is good in this world-”

He opened his eyes. You were already gone.

Sunday swore.

Midnight unfolded behind his back, clashing with his white cloak. Without so much as a second thought, he dove into the clouds headfirst, shooting through the sky like a meteor as he searched for you.

The second the fog of the clouds leave, however, he was thrust into a world of color. He fell alongside the snow, and unlike when he was on the mountain itself, he became a part of the aurora. The colors nearly blinded him, if not for the fact that he had his sights set on one thing - your falling figure, so close yet so far.

He tucked his wings as to fall faster. The second he reached you, he grabbed you, arms locking around your waist and pulling you into him, where it was safe.

“You’re a fool,” he scolded as your chest met his. You laughed, throwing your head back to return to the aurora.

“And yet, you saved me all the less.”

Sunday rolled his eyes as your legs wrapped around his waist. His wings returned to their full wingspan, catching the wind and ensuring that your fall didn’t end in a tragedy. He swerved and turned and glided, dodging peaks and keeping his sights on the city.

And all the same, you laughed, nothing short of pure glee in your voice.

And he sighed, fondness squeezing him regardless.

Yes, you were a fool.

But you were a fool he couldn’t help but love.

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[enden-k]

1st batch of random sketches of a loose ivlk au idea

in which ivan is a vocalist/lyricist in a band who lost his inspiration for music and finds it in luka, a burnt out musical prodigy, after getting entangled with him almost by fate; they become each others muse and obsession - and comfort

they share the similarity of being musical prodigies with abusive guardians/upbringing; ivan ran away from his and lives a free and unrestrained life singing in underground bars and clubs in a band he only joined bc of his best friend/childhood love. his feelings went unrequited for many years until he eventually and recently slowly got over it, coming to terms its no use and that they would never have a chance since hes "too intense", "too much", "not normal". bc of this, his inspiration disappeared since till was his muse all this time

luka stayed and became a golden-caged songbird, objectified and used by his possessive guardian bc of his talent. he was trained strictly since childhood and forced to perform on stage, study and pursue music, the only thing that he truly enjoys, to utmost perfection to the point of burn out and beyond. his guardian eventually passed and it left luka free but since his entire life was planned and dictated and control taken from him, he feels lost and alone, unsure what to do. music was the only purpose in his life, the only thing hes good at, he can do; hes burnt out and exhausted but still continues, the things his guardian ingrained into his mind still controlling his behavior and life

when luka meets ivan, his love for music gets rekindled without the pressure and abuse that loomed over him all his life; when ivan meets luka, his inspiration and love returns. theyre both scarred from their similar upbringing and situation which influences a lot of things they are/do (e.g. tendencies to become obsessive/possessive,...) theyre both considered and branded "odd" by people around them but they learn they can let go of their masks around each other and be themselves, finding comfort and healing together. what started as an entanglement w mutual benefits grows into mutual love

i babbled quite a bit kjhbkjbj.. 🧍‍♀️

(as obvious above, i love keeping close to canon while also mixing in own thoughts/my hcs when i do AUs so yea, luka still has asthma, migraines etcetc, but theyre also both autistic (not planning to make it relevant or focus, im just throwing it out there) and luka has an ED)

[allpiesforourown]

Goodnight I just want roommates bingyuan to have weed together. Binghe never tried any when he was a teenager because shen yuan has severe asthma and he didn't want smoke lingering on him and sending his yuan gege into an episode.

Obviously the second shen yuan muses that he'd like to try, binghe is baking delicious brownies for them to have together and um. It turns out shen yuan is very very affectionate when he's high...

Idk I just want shen yuan giggling and crawling into binghes lap and gushing over how binghe is such a good boy, so handsome and sweet, cooks so well, the perfect wife! Maybe he playfully nuzzles his face against binghe, maybe he starts kissing him until they're on the couch making out...

Yuan gege without his thin face to hold him back from moaning into binghes mouth and pawing at him desperately 🥺🥺🥺

[awrkive]

tlp extra where one of the surgeons gang catches him admiring tlp OC please 🙏🏽

summary: tlp drabble #2 where taehyung figures jungkook out

w/c: 1.5k

note: instead of an extra heres a Drabble 🤓 the official introduction of taehyung into the surgeons gang study group. timeline is first semester of second year. this got a little angsty in the end but nothing major u'll see angst if u squint. also pls dont judge me if i got some of the technical medical stuff wrong 💔 i was armed with google searches n tiktok 💔

Taehyung can already hear the sound of laughter and your voices slipping through the hallways as he makes his way to Moon’s Print Shop. 

When he enters, he immediately sees the three of you – Doyeon, Jungkook, and you, huddled in the long table, with Doyeon seated across from you and Jungkook who are sitting close together on one side like usual. From where he is at the door, he gets the view of Jungkook circling his arm around the back of your chair, his head leaning down to the side of your direction, listening to you and Doyeon talk. 

“Oh, hey, Taehyung!” You snap your head to the direction of the door when Taehyung enters. The other two follow, greeting him simultaneously while he gives the same back, going straight to the chair available next to Doyeon. 

“We’re doing clinical reasoning. __ here is trying to do it in under three minutes.” Doyeon says, chuckling a little at the end of her sentence.

“Yeah, she’s trying to beat my record.” Jungkook muses beside you, and Taehyung watches as you turn to Jungkook with your bottom lip jutted out, frowning.

“I don’t know how you can do it in a minute. Teach me.” 

Jungkook chuckles, forming crinkles at both sides of his eyes. He lifts his hand – the one that’s not around your chair – to pinch your cheek a little. 

“You gotta study a lot, buddy.” 

“Don’t be cocky,” You say, swatting his arm and turning to Doyeon. “Okay, give me a new case. Jungkook, press record.” 

Doyeon and Taehyung laugh at both your antics. While Taehyung prepares his iPad and books, Doyeon begins to tell you about the patient, reading through a reviewer. 

“Okay, so the patient, a 42-year-old male, presents to the ER with increasing shortness of breath. He’s wheezing and coughing.” Doyeon starts. 

Cocking your head to the side, you ask, “Does he have a history of asthma or any allergies?” When Doyeon says "no", you try again. “Smoking?” She shakes her head. “Okay, well uhm… is his cough dry… or?” 

“Yep. It is dry.” Doyeon nods while looking at the paper. 

“What about the chest X-ray?” 

“Marked hyperinflation.”

“Is the AP diameter also increased?” 

“Yes.” 

“Oh,” Taehyung watches as some sort of enlightenment crosses over your face. With curiosity, he tries to peek at Doyeon’s paper but she immediately puts it down so he can’t see it. She arches her brow at him and he rolls his eyes, sitting upright back on his chair again. He watches you instead, getting invested. “Can you tell me about the ABG report, then?” 

“It’s PaO2 of 63 and PaCO2 of 54.”

“Oh, oh!” You lean towards Doyeon enthusiastically. “So the patient is hypoxic and hypercapniac… what about the spirometry, the FEV1?” 

“Zero point sixty.” 

Taehyung watches as a confused expression paints your face again. “So obstructive in nature…” It takes you awhile to ask another question, and even though Taehyung has only known you for only around a term, he knows that look on your face. You’re beginning to feel anxious now. With a hesitant tone, you cock your head to the side as you ask, “What about the bronchodilator response— is it significant?” 

“No, no.” Doyeon responds immediately. 

You pout. 

That’s when Taehyung sees Jungkook’s face beginning to contort into an expression of concern. 

It makes him arch a brow, but Jungkook’s too busy staring at the side of your face to even notice and question Taehyung about it.

“Okay… let’s go for the CT scan. Was there primarily an upper or lower lobe involved?” 

“Lower lobe, yes.” Doyeon nods.

You subtly look at Jungkook’s phone laying on the table with the timer up, grimacing at whatever you saw. 

Taehyung tears a piece of paper from his notebook and writes, [What is it?], and when he’s done, he slides it to Jungkook’s direction. It does a good job of straying his friend's eyes from you, his attention now to the scratch that Taehyung gave him. 

Jungkook quickly scribbles down something and returns the paper back to Taehyung. 

[Not sure. First impression is COPD. Waiting for blood work up.]

Taehyung’s mouth forms an O-shape upon reading the note, everything suddenly also making sense to him. He’s about to give Jungkook an impressed look but he’s already back to staring at you again, but this time you meet his gaze, and for awhile it’s like you two are communicating in a language he, neither Doyeon, know anything about – and Taehyung suddenly feels as if he’s… third-wheeling. 

The moment is cut short when you suddenly look at Doyeon, voice sounding full again. Confident this time. “Does the blood work up show that there’s deficiency in alpha-1 antitrypsin?”

“Yes.” 

Now there’s a grin on your face, and when Taehyung’s gaze falls back to Jungkook again, he smiles the same time you do. His arm around your chair comes up to pinch your arm, rubbing there softly – subtly – and your grin grows even wider – like his – when you finally tell your final diagnosis. 

“If he's AAT deficient then that's COPD. In his case, specifically, emphysema.” 

"And referral?"

Your excitement feels palpable as you say, "AAT replacement therapy and pulmonary rehab."

“You got it.” Doyeon says, smiling at you. 

“Oh my god,” You look at Jungkook’s phone and your eyes widen. “I did it in two minutes and thirty one seconds.” 

“Yeah,” Jungkook chuckles. He looks down at his phone as well and then gazes back at you. “That was hella good.”

“Right?” You grin, taking in the praise from Doyeon as well. 

“That was really impressive, __.” 

Taehyung throws a compliment, as well. He’s admittedly a bit slow at clinical reasoning – slower than Jungkook and you, at least. 

“That was, wow—” he shakes his head to the side and claps slowly for the theatrics.

The others follow through the silliness and applauds you. Meanwhile, you stand up from the chair and begin to curtsy jokingly, relishing in the exaggerated celebration. 

When you come back to your seat, Jungkook makes sure to scoot your chair closer so you land on it well, and you chuckle as he does so. 

Doyeon probably didn’t catch it as she’s back to reading her notes again, but Taehyung catches Jungkook mouthing, “I’m proud of you” to you in which you give him a sweet smile for.

“What was that yesterday?” Taehyung asks Jungkook as both guys wait for you and Doyeon at the cafeteria for lunch. 

Jungkook looks at him wide-eyed as he stops sipping on his shake. “Huh?”

“The whole thing with __.”

With a deepening frown, Jungkook continues to look confused. 

“I don’t understand.” 

Taehyung deadpans. “Oh, so, like, rubbing your friend’s shoulder to calm them down during a clinical reasoning test and staring at them intently while doing it, being all proud and supportive and shot, is normal to you?” He adds, “I caught that “I’m proud of you” line, by the way. I was watching you closely.” Taehyung makes a show of pointing two of his fingers to his eyes and then to Jungkook to emphasize his point. 

Jungkook scoffs. “What the hell does that mean?” 

“You like her.”

“Who?” 

“__.” 

Jungkook chokes on his drink. Taehyung doesn’t bother to give him his glass of water, squinting his eyes at his friend instead.

When Jungkook recovers, he jabs at his chest as he glares at Taehyung. “What are you talking about? No, I don’t like __. Not like that.” 

Taehyung doesn’t say anything for awhile, just stares at Jungkook to see the reaction of his face. He keeps on tightening his brows so Taehyung can’t decipher anything – a defense mechanism, really, but he knows he’s blown his friend’s cover when Jungkook scoffs again and rolls his eyes. 

“Alright, fine. You win. I like her.” 

Taehyung snorts. “I knew it.” 

“You didn’t.” Jungkook rolls his eyes again.

“I thought about it a few times. Dude, you’re like a golden retriever around her. Jackson totally digs __ but he thinks you’re both together the way you act around her.” 

“W-what?” Jungkook stammers. “Jackson? Senior?” 

Taehyung nods. “Yep.” 

Looking away, Jungkook stares at the glass wall. “Well. That’s not possible. She has a boyfriend.” 

That makes Taehyung's grin fade. 

Clearing his throat, he sips from his water on the table. “Well. Yeah. She has a boyfriend. The Eunwoo guy, right? The architect, or something.” 

Taehyung sees something that flashes across his friend’s face – hurt? jealousy? – he’s not sure. But the air begins to feel thick at the sudden drop of mood. 

“Yeah.” 

Both of them are quiet for awhile until Taehyung speaks. 

“That’s tough, Jungkook.” 

“I know.” But there’s a bitter smile on his face. “Just… don’t tell her about it, okay?” 

The sincerity and vulnerability in his voice were something Taehyung doesn’t expect at all. It makes his tongue fumble for the right words, but he settles with, “Okay. She won’t hear anything from me.” 

Jungkook gives him a tight-lipped smile. “Thanks, Taehyung.” 

[werewolfbarista]

the way i got hit with the allergy-period one-two combo . i thought i was getting sick NO it's just the plant cum. and the uterus

[applysome]

I’ve now been lucky enough to see Miles Kane with my own eyes (and ears) twice in two days and have been able to form more coherent thoughts (though this will still be a massive ramble!). Long post warning split up by sections so you can skim to whatever interests you!

For ease:

N1 = Night One Thursday

N2= Night Two Friday

Note: all of the below are my observations, perceptions, and speculations, I could very well be wrong about some or all things.

Crowd

Both nights I arrived fifteen minutes before Miles was due on. N1 the crowd was sparse, apart from the venue floor there were large tiered steps and a balcony, and everyone seemed to be spread out. N2 was much busier, the floor, tiered steps and balcony were all packed out. I suspect this may be to do with the Thursday / Friday and 8pm / 9pm effect. Both nights I got myself three rows back from the barrier, stage left (N2 took a little more manouvering!).

The crowd on both nights was a good mix of teenagers/early twenties, people my age (thirties) and men in their fifties. Most of the older men were back on the tiered steps and from previous experience at shows, aren’t as vocal as the younger fans (I’ve observed this over the years watching Maximo Park, I’d recommend checking their music out if you haven’t already!).

N1 Miles takes to the stage greeted by a few cheers and applause and starts to play. Not much singing along or dancing on my side apart from a few of us. Muted cheers at the end of the song. A few songs in and I’m disappointed by the crowd’s reaction; although Miles is giving his all, I feel like I can see a little disappointment on his face too. This is his homecoming show, everyone here should be really up for it. A few people on the barrier in front of me talk to each other frequently right in his eye line. It takes about two thirds of the set list for the crowd to properly warm up and bringing out Dave McCabe from The Zutons gets the loudest reaction and sing along of the night. I tried to be as responsive and loud as I could but I’m only one person.

N2 Miles takes to the stage greeted with thunderous applause, cheers, screaming, the full works. Thirty seconds in he already looks much happier than he did on N1. At several points between songs when Miles stops to catch his breath the crowd is so loud all he can do is stand there and take it in. He was visibly emotional at several points throughout at the crowd’s reaction and a few spontaneous chants of “Miles Fucking Kane” really put a smile on his face. Much more singing, especially in the call and response parts of his songs. Definitely the homecoming show he deserved.

Also noteworthy, I didn’t see anyone from N1 on N2. Although a small sample size of where I was stood in the crowd, I expected a few people would go to both shows. Perhaps there were some people more central or on the steps/balcony.

Appearance and Performance

We all love Miles primarily for his talent but let’s be honest, the man is also stunning. But I wasn’t prepared for how attractive he would be in real life up close. It was a little distracting at times on N1 😅. By N2 I was more prepared! Miles looked great as always and certainly knows how to work those boots. As someone who can’t wear heels at all I must admit I’m a little envious!

N1 his moves were still there and he was giving his all as always, but N2 he really went for it, obviously spurred on by the crowd’s reaction. Cardio is sometimes overlooked I think but is so important for singers, especially ones who dance or are very active on stage. Again from experience watching Muse a lot over the years, I could tell when Matt Bellamy had let his cardio slip, struggling to hold notes for as long, singing more in chest voice than belting and so on. Miles had none of these issues which is impressive given his asthma and being a heavy smoker. Obviously the boxing is working!

Performance wise, I have high expectations and can be quite critical because a lot of my favourites (again - Muse, Maximo Park) are spot on live. Across both nights there weren’t any vocal issues, missed notes, absolutely nothing. Just pure passion, excitement, dedication, determination, even when the crowd wasn’t as vocal on N1. Flawless, faultless performances.

Setlist

The set list was the exact same across both nights which I was a bit surprised at, even down to Dave McCabe with Miles on bass and the support act Ellis Murphy playing harmonica in Come Closer which was a nice addition. I wondered if the choice to keep the set list the same will be something going forward for the rest of the tour or if it was just so everyone in Liverpool had the same experience. Regardless it was a good mix of songs with Come Closer, Coup de Grace, Cry on My Guitar and Inhaler getting the biggest reactions of the night.

It was great to hear Shavambacu live though I don’t think everyone gave it the appreciation it deserved! As others have shared, the set list choice of Shavambacu - See Ya When I See Ya - Colour of the Trap was… a choice. Also nice to hear Counting Down the Days which is such a platonic song… Might have been nice to hear My Fantasy or Kingcrawler one night instead but overall no complaints! Forever holding out hope he will play Ransom or Wrong Side of Life!

Other Notable Moments

During Never Taking Me Alive on N2, Miles seemed particularly amped up proclaiming “From day one Liverpool, been doing things my own fucking way”. Maybe he’s here amongst us following yesterday’s discussion (see my previous post) 🤣 but in all seriousness it was amazing to see Miles happy, rocking the stage and getting the reception he deserves, being unashamedly himself with his heels, leopard print amps and turtle plushie.

During Come Closer on N2, someone threw a turtle plushie onto the stage and Miles proceeded to balance it on his head for the last call and response of the song, quite impressive whilst singing animatedly!

Miles on bass during You Will You Won’t on both nights was really quite something (petition for more of this please) and I could tell he was genuinely excited to be playing with Dave McCabe.

One of the teenage girls in front of me excitedly proclaimed to her friends a few times that Miles had looked at her. Well we all know really he was actually looking over her head at me 🤣 a tiny part of my delusional brain feels like he saw me both nights and “recognised” me on N2, as I was wearing the same jacket in the same spot. But really I think this is just the Miles Kane effect; his ability to connect with the audience on a personal level, making you feel like he’s playing just for you even in a room of hundreds of people.

At the end of N2, Miles lingered on stage for longer and jumped down into the crowd for handshakes and hugs (sadly not on my side!) and generally soaked up the overwhelming response from the crowd which was truly deserved.

Overall Thoughts

If you’ve made it this far you’re a trooper! Be rewarded by my very poor quality photographs (I am short and there were a lot of heads in the way!)

Miles is a born performer who gave everything he had both nights, even when the crowd wasn’t as receptive on N1. I’ve been to a lot of shows in the last twenty years and these are genuinely some of the best I’ve seen. You can just tell how much he loves music, performing and being on stage, I had a huge smile on my face throughout both shows. I know this isn’t always the case as some artists become tired or jaded and see it as “just a job”.

Best of all, I didn’t hear anyone so much as mention TLSP or anyone affiliated with them anywhere around me. Everything on both nights, but particularly N2 was about Miles Fucking Kane, as it should be.

I’m so grateful I got to see him live at all, let alone twice for his homecoming shows and I’m so happy Miles got the overwhelmingly positive reaction he deserves on N2. As a new fan (April 2024) I just hope he continues to gain momentum and grow in popularity from here.

Hopefully for Miles, The Best is Yet to Come.

[nancydrewwouldnever]

RANDOM MUSING: The official cause of death for Sinead O'Connor was finally released, and it was a combination of COPD and asthma. I hope all those assholes who jumped to suicide really, really feel like shit right now.

[not-that-dillinger]

Ed sighed. "They probably thought I was trying to instigate a fight. Which, I dunno. I really wanted to for that, but I wouldn't. And... it'll take a lot more cigar smoke to actually hurt you, but poison is a good descriptor for it. I'll probably still check over your code when we get home, make sure you're okay."

Ed paused for a moment, thinking. "Asthma is... it's a disease that affects the lungs, it makes them swell more easily, and makes it harder to breathe."

"Anyway..." Ed paused by the car. They were out of California, which was where the worst of the traffic was, and the next stretch to Winnemucca was promising to have little--if any traffic, either. Clu had done simulations, and out here the lack of traffic would make for a stress-free drive. "Would you like to have a turn at the wheel?"

Nevada Road Trip

(* closed starter for @systemadministratorclu *)

How Ed managed to not spoil the surprise, he didn't know. two months of planning a trip for the two of them, for his son's first time on the other side, and Clu was still... well, clueless.

(Son... they've known each other for two months now, and Ed still can't help the dopey grin every time he thinks about it.)

Well, perhaps not quite clueless. Clu had to know something was up when Ed suggested a very specific time and date, ("I found something I think you'll like, but it has to be exactly on this day"), Or certainly by now, when they were both about to leave the Grid, and Ed was practically vibrating with excitement.

The planning, of course, started when Quorra mentioned Clu wanted to see the stars. Which. Was a dilema, because the light pollution in Los Angeles made the night sky quite disappointing. The next best thing that Ed could think of was a visit to the planetarium. He tossed that idea out after a few seconds of contemplation. Ed personally didn't like crowds, and he didn't want to subject Clu to so many humans on his first time off the Grid. Too many random variables to mess things up. And Clu deserved better.

Ed was going to show Clu the stars.

And so Ed researched the best places to go star gazing.... Which lead to him stumbling into a Los Angeles amateur astronomer club forum.... which lead to three things.

First, it lead to the awareness of the Perseid meteor shower, which was going to peak in mid august.

It also led to Ed buying a (admittedly entry-level, but still really nice with several lenses) telescope. If it was partially because he had wanted one as a kid, that part was secondary. He couldn't wait to show it to Clu.

And most importantly, it led to him discovering dark sky sanctuaries.

And particularly the nearest one, which was about a twelve hour drive north of where they lived.

...In the nearly ten years Ed had worked for Encom, he had never used his time off, and so he had ten years' worth of it. He had never had a reason for a vacation, nobody to spend it with, until now. And so Ed all but gleefully informed Mackey that he was going to be taking a week off in August.

During the day, Ed planned the trip, and gathered supplies. A tent, sleeping bags and mats, a camping stove and small cooking set were added to his supplies. He planned stops along the way, and calculated the time they would need to get there just before sunset, leaving enough time for bathroom breaks and lunch.

During the evening, he did his best to prepare Clu to for what things would be like on the other side, showing him memories from his disc, answering questions, and or bringing him books to read and food to try (if Clu is going to spend over a day outside the Grid, Ed was going to make sure he had something to eat that he would actually like).

And he promised he'd stay the night the night before their grand adventure, so Clu wouldn't have to go through the portal alone for the first time.

And so the evening before the trip, Ed packed the telescope under an excessive amount of blankets and pillows, the camping gear, and several days worth of snacks that didn't require refrigeration into the car, then went to go visit Clu.

The morning of, Ed stood with Clu, doing his very best not to act like a little kid bouncing with his excitement, and activated the portal. "How are you feeling?" He asked softly as the column of light ignited a not far from where they stood. "Think you're ready?" As excited as he was to share his world with Clu, he knew Clu was at the very least, nervous, despite his best to reassure him everything would be alright.

Ed offered Clu a hand, a silent reassurance and promise that Ed would be right be right next to his son to help him, no matter what happened.

[medali-meltdown]

🌻Brassius headcanons🌻 (companion post to this one, now with added imagery (a single screenshot but so worth it))

-In his mid-40s but refuses to accept it, which manifests in ways such as: pulling all-nighters like a young student, skipping/forgetting meals, continuing to make an impression on gym challengers by leaping from the tops of windmills, roofs, whatever's convenient. Any of these habits could break his fragile body. Speaking of which...

-He started doing the wild leaps in school as a cool stunt and way to show off and be memorable, but he has a private reason also — it's his way of defying death and mocking his illness. By gods he's going to live and not only that, he's going to do it in the most avant-garde way.

-tbh I haven't pinpointed exactly what is his chronic illness. Asthma? Hey wouldn't it be ironic if he has a severe pollen allergy while loving and being surrounded by plant pokemon? (just like me fr) Also I'm still on the idea a friend told me of him describing his symptoms as thorny vines in his lungs (which could be his creative way of describing a common asthma attack, and of course he styles his hair in the same manner because he's just Like That).

-Nature and the turns of seasons are his religion. He dabbled in paganism in his younger days. Found the modern practices too commercialized, but keeps it in his heart, in private.†

-Super pretty when he was younger. Wore his hair long, and with it being so thick and wavy, it cascaded about his (fuller, more lively) face and slender neck, even when he had it pulled into a ponytail. Stormy grey eyes always in deep contemplation of Art. Elegant ways of moving and speaking, radiating beauty with every step and word... honey what happened.

-(Nothing, it's all still there if you know what to look for and Hassel sure does, he is an expert on beauty, after all!)

-Hassel 💗💗 What a long, complex history he has with Hassel. They were good friends as students long ago, both being in arts & music classes. Brassius looked up to the multi-talented Hass from day one, always inspired by him and his bravery. Of course he fell in love with his muse, but for one reason or another, they never could quite be together, at least for very long. It might take Hassel until the present to reconcile his feelings, but will it be too late? (please I have a whole fic I want to write about this, of course I love them being Extremely Married but consider this: 20 years' worth of Mutual Gay Pining and the angst what follows)

-Just like born musician Hassel has some art in him, natural artist Brassius has some form of musical talent. After all, he's the Verdant Virtuoso — a term that skews toward musicians. I like to think he's got a good singing voice.* Belts out tunes while he's in the Art Zone. In perfect Spanish Paldean because he's bilingual.

-Whenever the mood strikes him (rarely, anymore), this guy can get a little kinky. He may carry a rope to help him climb high for tall sculptures (I guess???), but it also comes in handy for tying up unruly dragons~

-He's had many more partners in the past than Hassel has, and therefore a lot of practice. Not so much these days, however. His art, gym, and health come first.

-The Surrendering Sunflora Story: it's easy to tell that Brassius, at the beginning of his art career, let his personal vision suffer because he was focused on being more of a content creator, gaming that algorithm in endless pursuit of fame, fans, and money. The stress got to him, making his illness flare up to near-fatal levels. Was there anything else stressing him out at the time? Was he battling debilitating depression as well? Because he was prepared to die from it all — whether or not his debut work succeeded. And then Hassel appeared. "It was then I met Hass." So they must have become friends a little later in their student lives? Out of nowhere comes Hassel to remind Brassius of the meaning of Art, and that saves his life. Where's that meme picture of the creature holding onto a wall and going i think i need a moment wait

-It's p much universally accepted that Brassius gave Hassel the Applin that would evolve into the latter's Flapple. I think Brassie did so after the Surrendering Sunflora exhibition was complete to express his feelings. Unfortunately, Hassel, not being from this part of the world and unfamiliar with nearby Galar's customs, thinks it's simply a friendly gesture of appreciation. Hang in there, Brassie ❤️‍🩹

-Maybe once Hass figures it out he'll give Brassius a Dipplin in return. "There are two bodies sharing one sweet home! It's more symbolic than the Applin, right? Surely they know this in Galar...?" "No, Hass, Dipplin's apple is only found in a region that's very far away, so it doesn't have that kind of meaning..." "🥺🥺😭 B-BUT IT'S USSSS"

†Meta: isn't the Pokemon world inherently pagan? I know we like to throw around the name of Arceus and/or Mew as though they are God, but... they're not really? Do not let me get theological on this post about my grass blorbo hfhfhsh

*Look, his deep, deep Japanese voice did things to me, and learning that seiyuu Nakai Kazuya voiced Mugen of all people (and some other guys I guess, Zoro if you go there) amuses me to no end hhhn