#but no further left than than

[endlessfandomverse]

source: just trust me bro

[vela-pulsars]

not enough stonjourner art out there

[etz-ashashiyot]

Friendly reminder that A Land for All is an excellent organization that is still, even now, working to create an equitable resolution to the conflict. Please check them out:

I also strongly recommend reading through their full proposal here.

[cent-scratchnsniff]

of where [ ] [ ] used to be

[plantanarchy]

I am so deeply ready for election season to be over. Swing state general election season in particular when your workplace in a red county took a strong blue stance has been such a headache for real. But equally there's been a whole lot of kindness and hope and faith in humanity and community restored as well. The huge amount of people who went out of their way to offer support has been so unexpected and wonderful.

[alliluyevas]

Appalachia is a distinct area and culture from the rest of the southern US. it is a LOT further left than most of its neighbors. IE: it's mostly mines and other hard laborer so the unions in Appalachia are VERY strong

people on this website will just go on here and say things.

[jjinpang]

※read right to left

Old roughs of the start of a P5 fan comic of “how I thought it was gonna end” I drew well before the royal came out

[blood-and-foam]

i will say it's fascinating to me how americans seem to frequently blame candidates' failures on voters, rather than blaming candidates for failing to appeal to voters, which is, i'm pretty sure, their job,

[louferrignojrofficial]

what are these trousers…

[bibutterflies]

nil + rendezvous

Horizon Zero Dawn (2017) | Horizon Forbidden West (2022)

[ezralva]

Two weeks after anime Nanami's death and there are still ppl bitching about how sick Gege is to k*ll off his favorite character brutally like that. I started to think those ppl conveniently skipped the fact that Gege had canonically wrote Nanami as the most gentleman and (not) arguably had the best personality among JJK's adults that made his character so loved by many. That the way his death was narrated is without question better than other deaths in the story. As we saw him gave his best to protect others and being worn down first then his last moments with Yuuji and Haibara. That it was clearly shown how impactful his death was for Yuuji. That all of those narratives combined made Nanami such an unforgettable supporting character. Which spoke a lot about how Gege treated Nanami as a character and it's definitely not a bad writing or doing him ugly.

[dreamy-pill]

This is an AU idea for another Steven Universe Gravity Falls that I just wanted to illustrate.

I skipped ahead of the plot and instead just went straight for the comfort. 🥰🥰🥰

[cubbihue]

Ruh Oh Scoob, I've run out of pins to mark all the asks in the inbox...

[calocera]

objectively strange things going on in starlight express rn

[jungkook97]

fling;; jjk

pairing: canon idol!jungkook x reporter!reader

word count: 4.6k

rating: ma

genre/warnings: romance, angst

summary: you were interviewing bangtan and couldn't help but felt a level of closeness to the youngest member. soon after, jungkook ended up taking a liking to you, proposing that you two should meet up throughout the week while he was in town for a little fun.

notes: this has been a fantasy of mine. it's angst as usual, but it's more so of lost connections that the boys may have upon going on these promo cycles overseas.

this also exists within the decision to leave jungkook fictional universe from the perspective of the reader.

© jungkook97 2023. do not repost or modify. please ask for permission to translate.

You were nervous. Very nervous. 

Your hands were shaking a bit, clammy as you wiped the sweat off on your dress as you checked your Apple Watch for the fifteenth time. It wouldn’t really change anything but more so of a tick that you had whenever you were nervous.

It was the first time you were assigned to interview with an A-list celebrity, or rather, an A-list group. You followed their careers from nearly the beginning, slowly becoming a major fan (minus the unhinged nature of being a stan, of course). It was as if you were living your dreams out in reality, something that you never thought in a hundred years or even this lifetime that you could do.

And so, you held your breath as the time ticked closer and closer to their arrival. The staff had arrived to go over some topics that you couldn’t talk about, the usual: dating, anything super personal, and anything that would be anti-capitalistic (although you had a feeling that some of the members wouldn’t have minded having such conversations). You knew the drill at that point as you zoned off, thinking about how you would be interviewing the biggest band in the world, talking to them and them actually responding back to you in real time. 

It was hard to grasp for you. Like everyone else, you always saw BTS as a group that meets a lot of people every single day, not really being able to distinguish faces or fully pay attention like operating on autopilot. The idea that they would be perceiving you drove you insane as your heart thumped ever so loudly in your eardrums, wondering who you saved in a past life to deserve interviewing a group you admired for so long.

Eventually, the time came to usher them in, and you held your breath in anticipation, continuing to self-soothe yourself by rubbing your hands on your thighs as they walked in one by one, looking exactly the same. You had seen them in concert in the press boxes, maybe a few times up close as a fan, but having them bow to you in greeting…it was a lot.

“H-hi,” you mustered all the courage to start the greeting, meeting eyes with every single member slowly, taking it all in. They responded, leaving your heart leaping for joy and also with an uncomfortable, but not uneasy feeling in your throat. You felt like it caught a mass while you were waiting for them, but you knew it was just simply nerves. “S-sorry if I’m too nervous around y’all–”

All of them started chuckling, with Namjoon putting his hands up in attempt to comfort you (it did a bit). 

“It is totally okay,” Namjoon spoke in his usual deep voice, perhaps an octave lower than you anticipated. “We get this pretty often, actually.”

You flushed in embarrassment, shifting in your seat trying to feel a bit more comfortable. You could feel the heat of all seven of them having their undivided attention to you, and the studio lights being as hot too. You weren’t sure if you were sweating everywhere else, if you smelled, if you shaved enough to get rid of any peach fuzz, or if you put enough makeup to look just as gorgeous as they were.

It didn’t matter anymore. You were in the moment. Too late to go back now.

You took a quick deep breath, exhaling slowly as you heard your cameraperson stating that they were ready to roll. 

“Let’s begin.”

It was easier than expected. Your nerves got the best of you at first as you stuttered the first few questions out before taking a five minute break. It was embarrassing, but the boys understood, trying to coax you and comfort you by stating that they get it often. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to be another young fan acting like a high school girl around their crush!” you laughed, wiping your tears away from the welling of tears as you were overstimulated (you had disclosed to them awkwardly about your neurodivergence, something that Yoongi immediately nodded and expressed his understanding much to your surprise). 

“You’d be surprised,” Namjoon reassured, smiling. “There was a male reporter earlier that kept freaking out about Jin-hyung.” 

“Really?” you chuckled as the members nodded in agreement, talking to their oldest in Korean, probably teasing him. You weren’t fluent in Korean, but you could tell from Jin’s red ears that they were making fun of the situation. 

“Yeah, it was funny,” Hoseok said, his light and bouncy voice filling up the room. He had become as fluent as Namjoon was over the past year after having spent a year in the U.S. after his enlistment. “Like, I think he got a…crush?”

“Ey, no~” Seokjin protested, you understand for him to disagree. He spoke some more, in which the interpreter from the earpiece all of you had translated, “He was a fan of all of us.”

“No, I’m pretty sure it was just you,” Hoseok pressed via interpreter. “I can tell he was one of us,” he pointed to him and Jimin (the both of them had come out to the public two weeks ago together as a part of the LGBTQ+ community). 

“A crush, huh? Worldwide Handsome getting everyone!” you laughed as the interpreter did as well, translating for the rest of the team. Everyone agreed, giggling as well. 

“Can we continue?” Namjoon piped in, his index finger imitating an old film camera rolling. You nodded, gesturing to the cameraman to continue.

You and BTS talked about a lot of things at length, questions that you never thought you would ever say to them. Surprisingly, a lot of the more “controversial” opinions got past the company, perhaps from all the work the boys had done to be as transparent to the fans as possible. Most of what you speculated the boys had felt during their hiatus were validated, and some were debunked to your surprise. You were shocked to learn that most of them had a lot of control over their solo activities, if not complete control despite what the conversation was at the time on Twitter. 

Eventually, the boys turned the mic back to you, asking something that caught you off guard.

“We heard you’re a huge fan of Jungkook’s,” Jimin beamed in mischief, nudging the youngest to pay attention. Jungkook had barely spoken at that point, but you had felt his eyes on you the entire time, getting you a bit flustered sometimes. 

Jimin wasn’t wrong. You were the biggest fan of Jungkook’s, mostly ever since his sudden glow-up with his tattoo sleeve. You had a soft spot for the kid (you were a few years older than him), and seeing him grow into this confident and sexy late-20 something was satisfying for you to see. 

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered out, your hands covering your mouth in shock. “How did you guys know?”

“Ah…” Jimin trailed off, looking towards his other members. “I think Namjoon-hyung found your Twitter fan account yesterday?”

Fuck.

“What?!” you exclaimed, standing up. The members cracked up as Namjoon began to protest, putting his hands up. “You stalked me?!” you asked teasingly.

“No! It’s just…” Namjoon started stuttering as well, caught in the act. “I heard from our translator that you were a big fan and so, I did some digging…”

“Well, you did a lot of digging!” you argued back, laughing and flushing madly. You didn’t want to look at Jungkook at this point, although you felt he was embarrassed based on how much he was shifting in his seat from the corner of your eye. 

You felt like you wanted to die. Die in a sense, you now knew that Namjoon saw your unhinged tweets about the group’s maknae. You wondered how far he scrolled down, if he saw your tweets crying about Jungkook’s sparkly ensemble at the last concert stop a few days ago that amassed to tens of thousands of tweets. You wondered how he even found it, considering that you didn’t even follow your fan account on your public one. Maybe you forgot to unlink it on your YouTube account, or maybe you had accidentally shared the numbers on your Instagram. It didn’t matter: Namjoon found it. 

It grew awkwardly quiet, and you could still feel the gaze from the youngest. You were too scared to even look at him. What if he thought you were insane or unhinged? Did Namjoon even show the tweets to him? You were mortified at the thought of him staring in disbelief. 

What was even worse is that he knew before you guys officially met, meaning he had been staring at you the entire time in silence, probably mortified that an obsessed, crazed fan of his was conducting the interview. In fact, it made sense as to why he was so quiet: he probably was judging you for being batshit nuts on your stan account about him. 

“Ah, I shouldn’t have said that,” Jimin sighed loudly, his words being translated. “Now it’s all awkward…” 

“N-no, it’s okay,” you lied, shuffling your interview cards. “I had a feeling you guys have your burner Twitter accounts just watching us,” you squinted your eyes at Namjoon. His cheeks turned red as you did the same, your heart fluttering. 

“It’s just Namjoon,” Hoseok emphasized, even though you knew that to be a lie. “He has too much time in his hands.” 

“Ey, shut up,” Namjoon said in Korean, chuckling. “Well…don’t you want to say something to Jungkook, maybe?”

You blinked.

“Say what?”

He shrugged, smiling. 

“I don’t know, I thought you guys would be the type to want to say something to someone you really admire. I’m sure Jungkook would like to hear from his biggest fan,” he teased. 

You blushed madly, laughing nervously. 

“I didn’t prepare or anything,” you began making excuses, your eyes slowly moving toward Jungkook’s direction to gauge his reaction. It took a few seconds, probably from the interpreter for him to understand what was going on before he sat up straight immediately, clearing his throat. 

“Yeah!” Jungkook exclaimed a bit too loudly, clearing his throat again. “I wanna…hear.” 

The rest of the members echoed the same sentiments. 

“Ah fuck,” you muttered. Not BTS putting you on the spot to confess your feelings. It wasn’t something you really wanted to do in front of the entire group and the crew, but the crew kept pressuring you to do it. After all, it would make great TikTok content. It was then you turned away from the group, just dying from embarrassment. 

“Come on, it would be so cute,” your PD encouraged you. 

“But it’s so embarrassing,” you whined as you flushed wildly, your back toward the group. “I have so much to say.”

“I’m sure Jungkook wants to hear all of it. He seems to really like you!”

Your heart skipped a beat from hearing that. That was true, the group and you kept having great laughs and teases throughout the entire interview. 

“Fine, fine.”

You took a deep breath, nodding towards Nicole, their interpreter. You could see Jungkook leaning in closer as you began. 

“You’ve always been my favorite,” you began. “And uh, I always admired that you always did what you wanted no matter how many people said you shouldn’t. You’re strong and rebellious, something that I admire because I wish I had half of that strength…”

You closed your eyes at this point, your eyes swirling in its eye sockets. You couldn’t believe you were saying this to Jungkook who was right in front of you. For a moment, you forgot that you were interviewing him, that it was a professional setting. You felt like you needed to say all of this, knowing full well how much Jungkook had felt insecure about his image change and how he was being perceived. He was pretty explicit about that in the recent lives you were able to catch, and you wanted to comfort him. 

“And I know that a lot of people have a lot to say about you, and as an older fan, I just want to say…not all of us are like that. I’m not, at least. I want you to be happy, to be loved, to be able to not be restricted by society’s standards. I want you to know that I will always love you no matter what, that you will always be my favorite person. I hope one day, you will find someone or something that will make you feel like home, Jungkook. I want…” 

You swallowed.��

“I want you to be comforted. And unconditionally loved.” 

You sighed deeply, shaking your head as you opened your eyes, looking right at Jungkook. You felt a bit confident after all of that as Nicole continued translating for him. He was listening intently, crossing his arms trying to digest all that you said. 

“Ah…” he vocalized a few times, nodding his head. His eyes grew glassy as he closed his eyes a bit. 

There was silence, this time more comfortable than before. You held your breath in anticipation, wondering how he reacted to that. Was it too much? Were you being a little too extra? 

Fuck, that was too much was it. 

“I’m sorry if that’s a lot,” you blubbered out, putting your hands up in defense. “I…kind of lost myself there.”

A moment of silence for the translations. 

Jungkook laughed. 

“Ah, it’s okay,” he said in Korean. “Uh…”

He smacked his lips together, his eyes looking at the floor sheepishly. He then looked up at you, his eyes sparkling with genuine happiness and joy. 

“Thank you,” his voice echoed in your skull as he thanked you in English. 

You looked away abruptly, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. It was a lot, and you felt like you could die at any moment. 

“Uh, let’s take a break, yeah?” Namjoon piped in. You agreed, taking your lavalier mic off and running straight to the bathroom. 

Or rather, let’s end this so I can die in a corner, probably. 

It wasn’t long until the interview was over, much to your dismay. While it felt like you were floating on clouds, it felt too short, too professional for your liking. 

Ever since your confession though, you felt a pair of eyes intently following your every movement, or so you thought anyways. You never once coded Jungkook’s stare to be intense, but he was quite attentive after your little spiel, nodding and laughing at your jokes (even though it was off by a few seconds for translations). You wished that you were native in your own tongue, but as the interview went on, you surprisingly knew more than you thought, laughing at the supposed inside jokes they had. You guys went briefly over the infamous dumpling incident, which, at this point, had its own lore. 

The boys felt approachable for once, although you knew for quite some time that they would be. You were similar in age with them after all, the same age as Namjoon give or take a few months. It felt like you were talking as friends rather than an actual interview that you were being paid to do. 

Nonetheless, the interview was a success, and you were packing your things up to go home. 

That was, until Namjoon approached you. 

“Hey,” he began, startling you. Your eyes widened at him coming up, being his normal self. 

“Hey,” you managed to say back, trying not to freak out. Is he about to do what I think he’s about to do? “What’s up?”

“Uh…” Namjoon put his hands in his pockets, smiling sheepishly. “I was wondering if you wanna get dinner with Jungkook and I. He told me he really liked your energy today, and was wondering if we could talk more over some food.”

Holy shit. Is this real?

“Uh….” was all your stupid self could say, gawking at him as if he said something completely unintelligible. “Um…”

Say yes, you asshole.  

“It’s fine if you have to like, uh, edit and shit,” he continued, his eyes averting away from you, his voice trailing off. 

Fuck, dude. Say something back. Say YES. 

“Um…” 

Then, you saw Jungkook at a distance, overwatching the whole conversation. His lips were pursed into a pout, his neck extending toward the direction of you two, perhaps trying to hear what was going on. There was no way you could be making this up. Jungkook seemed… interested in wanting to spend more time with you. 

Romantic? Unsure. But definitely interested. 

This wasn’t the first time a celebrity has asked you to dinner (in fact, you were a looker yourself, whether you liked it or not), but with BTS? They were more definitely out of your league. However, you felt like you had been friendly at this point, so why not? 

“Yeah, why not?”

Dinner was a blast. In fact, it was the most fun you ever had. 

While you and Namjoon exchanged even more funnier quips, teases and passionate arguments about life, you and Jungkook sat next to each other, just feeling rather comfortable. It wasn’t to say that you two were feeling each other up, but Jungkook, an avid fan of Namjoon’s, was taking your side the entire time, initiating contact here and there to definitely show more than just platonic interest. You were taken aback at first, recoiling your hand when he “accidentally” brushed his hands against yours, but after a while, you leaned into him, showing your desire to get closer too.

Jungkook wasn’t as shy as you thought he was, and by the time dinner was over, he was playing footsies with you, his shoulder leaning against your own but disguised as him getting a bit too drunk for everyone’s liking (well, Namjoon’s anyways). Namjoon showed signs of feeling like the major third wheel, but he was, after all, the wingman in all of this, awkwardly smiling his infamous smile when he felt out of place. 

“Ah, you guys look really comfortable, huh?” Namjoon pointed the obvious out in his native tongue as you laughed. Jungkook leaned into you as you cupped his face with the biggest grin ever seen. 

“He’s adorable,” you replied back. “Cuter off-camera, if you ask me.”

“Gag,” Namjoon teased. “You guys need a room?”

You were staring into Jungkook’s doe eyes at this point, the chocolate pools of wonder. He was deeply in love, or at least, enamored by your presence. It turned out he was feeling you as well throughout the interview, and something in the air felt right to him. Not per se, bells ringing in his ear (he was past the romanticism), but he wanted more. So much more than what you two could do in front of Namjoon. 

“Can we use yours, hyung?” 

It didn’t take long before you two fucked after Namjoon and the two of you parted ways. In fact, both of you leaped onto each other madly the moment the door closed behind you. Of course, it was met with the typical NDA the morning after, something that you were quite used to at this point. It was a given that your night with him would be done in secrecy and with a contract to never speak of it, but to be honest, you weren’t planning to do that anyways. Jungkook was yours, even if it was for a split second.

“You’re incredibly beautiful, you know,” Jungkook breathlessly said after some time had passed, your bodies entangled with each other under the pillowy white sheets. “I never felt like I could just connect with someone I just barely knew.”

You grinned back, kissing his lips and the rest of his face. 

“Call it karmic,” you replied back. 

Jungkook, not knowing what the word was, leaned back in confusion. 

“Kar…mic?”

“Uh…” you struggled to find the Korean word equivalent, trying to run through your shoddy vocabulary. “Um…it’s like…fate…?” 

You weren’t sure what the word was, although it seemed to be received well with Jungkook. His pupils grew dilated as his mouth relaxed into a comfortable smile. He closed his eyes, leaning against you. 

“Ah…fate, right?”

You blushed wildly. 

“Yeah…fate.”

For the next week, you two met up every night in between your guys’ respective craziest schedules. Thankfully, it was easy because you were able to attend their next show (at the request from the artist, of course). While the others were in the press box though, you were in the family and friends’ box in which Jungkook may or may not have secretly passed by to steal a kiss or a hug. The two of you had agreed that this would be a short thing, nothing too serious. After all, the language barrier was a bit rough, and you two were working professionals. 

However, you couldn’t help but to feel more of a connection besides a little fling because well, both of you were totally into each other. He eventually gave his personal cell (or at least, the U.S. one he used in the States) to text, something that Jungkook admitted he didn’t do often. Adoringly, he had his read receipts on, and it looked like he always checked to see what you wrote, even if it took a good hour or two to respond. 

“I’m getting better at it, okay? Heh,” he would write, sending butterflies in your stomach. He was making an effort, although you can never be sure if he was like this with other people. Not that it mattered, you knew what it was, and you weren’t going to be caught up in it. 

As the days went on, you and Jungkook started sharing intimate details about each other, something that you only had when it was a real relationship. This confused you, but maybe it was because you used to be the only one who did it as a part of the neurodivergence part of your personality. You found out more about his flings, how much he craved for more than just fucking around.

“I don’t know,” he said one night as you brushed your fingers through his hair, his face buried deep into your chest. “I feel like…you know, I want something more with all of these people. Like…I’m wasting my time whenever I do these things, but…I can’t help it. How can I find someone when I’m Jungkook of BTS?”

It was a lot to take in, but you took it on like a champ. There were thoughts that you wondered what Jungkook would think about, and it felt unreal that he could say all of these things to you in the comfort of his hotel room, away from all the lights and the glitz and the glamour. In this moment, in this scene in your guys’ story together, he was yours. 

“Do you want more?” you asked quietly. You weren’t sure as to what you were saying, but it felt right to ask. 

He shifted his head and moved it up to see yours, closing the gap between you two. 

“Always. I always want to be loved unconditionally.” 

It was getting complicated, fast. 

You weren’t sure how to end it. In fact, time was ending it for you. It was Jungkook’s last day in the States, and it seemed like Jungkook suggested you go on tour with him for the next stop, Central America. While you weren’t entirely opposed to it, you knew where this was going. Last time, a celebrity had suggested that you to do a documentary film on them, and while you were flattered, it was just another way to keep you around at their convenience. 

It wasn’t to say that Jungkook was being selfish. Rather, it was the circumstances that made him think this way. With how restrictive the industry was, and how incredibly famous Jungkook was as well, it was hard for him to see people besides those closest to him, which at this point, had began to warn you during your time in the family and friends’ box at the shows about Jungkook’s quick attachment to people. 

“I know he always says he doesn’t get attached, but he really does,” an ex-fling told you in confidence in between VCRs. “He told me he was going to keep it professional, but the guy lies.” 

You were dreading it. Although you felt great that you slept with your favorite, it wasn’t your intention to get anything more out of it because well, what is there left? You signed an NDA, the company regularly asked if you two used a condom…it was getting invasive, weird, and it was starting to turn you off.

And so, the last night came through and you two met up again. This time, you knew it was the last time, and to Jungkook, maybe the start of something new. 

As you began to pack up your things, Jungkook laid on the bed sprawled out underneath the sheets. 

“So…Mexico…” he began. You sighed, knowing it was coming. 

“No, Jungkook,” you replied, turning toward him. “As much as I liked this, I can’t travel with you.” 

“I’m not asking for you to travel with me,” he rebutted, sitting up and grabbing his shirt to put it back on in one hand. “I’m just saying, come with me to the next show! It would be great coverage for the magazine.”

“Jungkook-ah, that’s not how it works,” you doubled down, zipping up your weekend bag before putting your jacket on. “I have to get approval from my editor. Plus, people are starting to talk, and frankly, I started getting texts from your fans about us.”

There it was, what you had been hiding. Honestly, you were used to it from the last celebrity you hooked up with, but this time, his fans, or his stalkers to be exact, knew everything about you, threatening to ruin your life if you didn’t stop fucking him. It was getting emotionally taxing, but you wanted to hide that from him. After all, you were confident that wasn’t his first time hearing this. 

“They’re not my fans and you know this,” he argued, now getting up and putting on his Adidas track pants. “The real ones will know it’s a little fling.”

“Do they though? Do you though?” 

There it was, the hard truth. 

Silence enveloped between you two, and Jungkook stood there in the dark with his hands in his pockets. He was staring at you, his eyes clearly pleading for you to not leave. 

“Don’t leave,” Jungkook’s words came after. “I know this seems a lot, but I really like you. We can make it work.”

Make it work…as if that could ever be a thing. 

You walked toward Jungkook with your weekender bag slung over your shoulders. Slipping your shoes on as well, you came closer to him, his breath hitched as you leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. 

“I’m sorry, Jungkook,” you began. “We can’t keep doing this. This is our last night together.”

He exhaled sharply, his eyes closing slowly. 

“I know.”

It didn’t take long before you two blocked each other on everything, pretending that you two didn’t exist to each other. It took a few more weeks before the fans stopped bothering you, probably focusing on the next fling Jungkook had. 

And so there it was, you had a fling with one of the biggest stars in the world. 

If only you knew what would happen next.

END. 

[lackadaisy-headcanon-supply-unit]

how do all the lackadaisy characters react to getting sick/how do the handle the situation. Thanks!! :3c

Lumping these two asks together as they are the same request. Ask and ye shall receive! (A collaborative effort between multiple of our authors as it does involve the whole cast.)

ROCKY

Sick? What do you mean sick. In his over twenty-two years of living thus far he's never been sick once. He has the immune system of a titan, what are you talking about.

Questions he whilst leaning heavily on the bar counter for support lest he is knocked to the ground in a feverish pile by this sudden earthquake that apparently no one else is noticing like seriously you guys shouldn't we evacuate the place?!

In his defense, he's right about one thing: illness seems to avoid him as prevalently and miraculously as death itself. He could get stuck in the rain, take cold mud baths, sleep outside in winter snow, hug someone with Spanish flu, taste the pavement of a rat-infested alley and drink raw sewage and still come out of it all fit as a fiddle.

(Whether he carries anything is a different question, though with the various microorganisms inside him he seems to live in an overwhelmingly peaceful coexistence.)

But every rule has exceptions. And since he frequently does end up in all those situations, when once a millennium he comes down with something it's hard to tell the cause.

How he handles it can be summed up in a short answer of: he doesn't. He refuses to acknowledge it until he's physically incapacitated. If asked about it he keeps insisting that he's fine, a-okay, dandy as can be, never has existed a more invigorated healthy young man on Earth. At best he may invent a perfectly unconvincing excuse, like allergies acting up. (Inside underground caves. In winter. When he's never been allergic to anything in his entire life.)

Aside from perhaps unsuccessfully forbidding him from causing more grievous disturbances than usual, people usually opt to just leave him to it, because once he's set his mind on being "fine" logical reasoning and sound advice are only breath wasted. Ever well-intentioned, Mitzi still tells him to get some rest every now and then, yet keeps stumbling into the boy as he's fumbling through whatever that unresting intent has currently possessed him to be doing.

This wouldn't be such an issue with, say, a cold, because regardless of his masochistic eagerness for activity it inevitably does pass, but if it's something that necessitates any amount of bedrest... well, good luck.

For one he hasn't really a place to rest. I mean... there's the car. No one but Ivy at the Lackadaisy seems to know he technically lives in there, and he's not too enthusiastic to disclose it himself; besides anywhere else actually suitable, like in Mitzi's apartment, he'd just feel like a capital nuisance.

But let's suppose a scenario with the ideal location and someone who cares enough to stick by and ensure he actually does stay put. Shouldering such a responsibility, they must be prepared for a minimum of two things.

For one: he's going to be even more unbearably talkative than usual. Because what else is there left for a restless spirit if the flesh is restrained? Nothing but to complain and lament and versify and prattle on incessantly about whatever comes careening hither along a changeful stream of consciousness. Albeit unwittingly, driving others insane with his aimless rambling is how he keeps himself... well, something.

It's like if his mind had to stop running at maximum speed for just a few minutes it would promptly crash for good. Which, for all we know, may really be the case.

(This is just my two cents, but: I think giving him drawing implements and a coloring book or just plain paper might keep him very nicely occupied, as well as relatively quiet. Be sure to provide plenty of paper though, if you don’t want him to start drawing on other things not meant to be drawn on when the supply runs out like an unsupervised kid... unless you welcome the idea of your walls and furniture being covered in doodles.)

The other, possibly more arduous challenge is keeping him inside the room in the first place. Not understanding nor agreeing with his special treatment largely experienced as imprisonment on his end, he seizes each arising opportunity to attempt to weasel away somehow.

And he's a trained escape artist.

Watch him closely but look away for even a second, and you'll find no trace of him left in the room when you look back. Lock him in there, he'll pick the lock in a pinch - or attempt the window, which depending on the floor number may carry various levels of risk. Tie him down (because you're getting desperate by now) and you're likely to stumble into him minutes later by the front door, having already wriggled his way out. Doesn’t matter which knot was used, he knows most of them by heart. (And even if he didn’t happen to, he’s resourceful enough.)

Like I’ve said before, he perseveres in resisting his confinement for as long as he's capable of moving his limbs around and some vague semblance of coherent thought. Even with his brains cooking with delirium one may have to rescue him as he's crawling along on the floor dragging with him the tangle of blankets he was last left swaddled in, not entirely clear on what direction he's headed but by all means dedicated.

He's not above manipulation either, in order to divert his warden’s attention or make them relinquish his firm supervision rooted in concern for his well-being. Because it's not like he's concerned about it; so why should anyone else be? In addition he's unshakably certain that his role in the Lackadaisy's rumrunning force as well as there in general is absolutely vital and requires that he always be available for employment regardless of if he’s even in a proper state for it. (Just look at the latest comic arc, for crying out loud.)

But psst. Here's a little personal tip, for (Y/N) specifically. If reasonable advice hits deaf ears, and cuffing him to a bedpost yields little results other than another mildly baffling escape attraction, there remains one other thing to try with better chances of success... a more hands-on approach, if you catch my drift.

(Cuddling. I'm talking about cuddling. If you've got a good grip on this string bean of a man he is certainly not going anywhere so long as you're vigilant. Doing so, of course, means risking your own health, which he won't fail to coyly point out either; but he'll otherwise put up minimal resistance and ultimately cave in because God knows he’s touch deprived and doesn't get held enough otherwise. Well, by not enough I mean not at all, ever. But that's exactly why it's a good thing you're here, isn't it?)

Overall, as amusing of a story collection to recount as his commonly absurd ailing escapades might provide later down the line, the fact that they very rarely happen is no doubt for the best. He engages in enough troublesome shenanigans as is.

FRECKLE

Surprisingly pragmatic about it. Yep. He's getting symptoms. Looks like he contracted something.

Best be careful about it... mostly because Nina wouldn't allow him running himself ragged anyhow.

Along with other moral virtues he's had honesty drilled into him from kittenhood. And although it's not always an option in... other matters... he's upfront about how he's feeling physically if not much else, and eventually does come to terms with it. (Once he’s confirmed with certainty that it’s not just the general nauseated feeling he gets whenever he thinks too deeply about his “work” nowadays.)

He doesn't want to infect other people, or incur the stern concern of his mother, so at the very least he stays around the house, doing small, mostly undemanding chores. He's aware it's not expected of him nor recommended, but he has a bit of restlessness to him too.

Mostly because, were it bad enough to confine him to bed in a blanketed bundle of suffering incarnate, all he'd be able to think about is that God's wrath finally caught up with him for being a horrible person and this was part of his rightful punishment. Even worse if he got a nasty fever; it's like he's already burning in Hell.

Distractions may be scarce, but if he's been told off from chores for sneezing on the washing-up or exhausting himself with much too overzealous hammering, he opts to read instead. Over the years he's amassed quite the collection of books, renowned classics and youth literature, and most of them still give off the fluttering remnants of a good kind of nostalgia when flipping through the pages.

And besides, immersing himself in someone else's story is far more pleasant than fretting over his own current predicaments.

Some company, from a safe distance of course, will do him wonders as well. Nina is not the most conversational woman around, and aside from checking on him regularly and ensuring his wellbeing they don't make much meaningful contact.

Rocky likely pops in from time to time however, forever enthused to just run his mouth for as long as allowed, and although he may get a bit too bombastic for Calvin's comparative lack of vitality sometimes he appreciates the distraction more than he's able to express it. And, believe it or not, it's not entirely one-sided either. Rocky has developed a keen sense for his quiet cousin's intent to contribute and will more than gladly listen to what he has to say.

He’ll also forward Ivy’s wishes for Calvin to get well soon as she’s just dying to be able to meet with him at the speakeasy again. (Definitely also attaches a teasing remark or two to the message.) Then he’s eventually ushered out by Nina and as soon as his hasty goodbyes are swallowed by the outdoors Calvin finds himself missing the noise already.

The paralyzed stillness of being sick gets to him a lot more than it shows… seeing as it leaves him a little too alone with his own mind. So he sinks into the comfort of old books until he’s incapacitated by a headache and sore eyes, and diligently rakes those seven leaves that had gathered across the back lawn since he last attended to them two hours before, and lingers outside in the garden until warmer hues overtake a sun-painted sky and the evening chill starts to bite, taking in all things green and alive and in motion to remind himself that he’s not a walking corpse. Not yet, anyway.

Due to his mom’s supervision as well as his own eagerness to follow instructions in order to escape his personal limbo as soon as possible, he does tend to recover fairly fast; and he’s a pretty hardy young lad, thank goodness, so it’s all quite uncommon of an ordeal. In short it’s back to the ol’ grindstone in a jiffy; you know, the kind of grindstone that pulverizes mortal lives and churns out dripping blood.

But hey, best not stop and mull over it too long.

IVY

Oh, it's a nightmare for her.

You mean she can't go out in the evenings anymore? Can't go shopping with friends? Can't procure booze with her criminal coworkers? Can't attend dates with her cute new boyfriend? (Well, those last two are one and the same, really.)

These are all vital activities for a young woman like her to pursue! What else is she supposed to do? Rot in her room and steer clear of all fun whilst everyone else keeps going on with their lives?!

Some flimsy cold is nowhere near enough to keep her away from the beloved Lackadaisy. She can still man the café counter with a little sniffle (taking care to sneeze on no one's food) or look absolutely gorgeous on the dancefloor decked in glimmering pearls and feathers with a slightly paler constitution. But if it's bad enough that she simply must stay put...

During classes the still life of an empty dormitory fills with upbeat contemporary tunes from her bedstand radio as she lies upon crumpled bedsheets, clad in her prettiest pajamas, surrounded by an almost ritualistic circle of tissues and magazines whilst flipping through one of the latter with her legs girlishly dangling in the air. This is likely the scene any visitors are greeted by as well.

She looks like she's coping rather well... until verbal contact ensues and she begins her long string of complaints about how she's feeling utterly miserable. Runny nose, sore throat, grating cough, an unshakable sense of fatigue and she can't even go anywhere! Her classmates are off studying or having fun themselves (as well as deliberately avoiding contact with her for obvious reasons), and she's got nothing to look at but patterned wallpaper and pictures of pretty clothes she currently can't even visit the boutiques for.

But once the grievances are shared she promptly guides the spotlight in their direction, upon which they are to share every last bit of information and news about all most recent ongoings in the world of the healthy. It is a requirement (she will not let them go until they oblige), but also an opportunity; they're welcome to spill the beans on how their week has been and any noteworthy things that happened to them and also to just chat with her about whatever else comes up in the process.

Another way she keeps herself involved with the outside world is through the telephone. The local operator can already tell if she's under the weather by the prevalence of hearing her slightly weathered, juvenile voice squeak for connection to mostly one line throughout the day.

Her calls may also be scheduled to a certain hour so that everyone can come up to Mitzi's office and say hi. That "everyone" overwhelmingly ends up being Rocky, who lingers around there a bit more insistently than usual nearing that time frame and never fails to make his presence known by shouting his own greetings and cheerful encouragements of perseverance into the receiver.

She always asks him about Viktor and Calvin since the former disappointingly refuses to engage with her calls, and the latter doesn't visit because boys aren't allowed in the dormitory... and because he's afraid of catching her sickness. (What a chicken.)

You’d better believe they both get a scolding once she’s recovered for not contacting her at all… though you can’t really stay mad at sheepishly apologetic, babyfaced Freckle McMurray, now can you

Supposing the presence of company who’s emotionally close enough, she may also get clingy in the physical sense. Yes, she knows it’s not very courteous to rub your germs all over someone, but oh, her head is just killing her and she’s exhausted and achy and utterly sick of being sick, hence she desperately needs to rest her chin on someone’s shoulder and latch onto their soft warmth. Really, they brought this upon themselves by daring to enter the sniffly lion cub’s den. Now they’re likely not allowed to move for… let’s say the next two hours. Alternatively, until she has to go to the bathroom or ask them to get her something to drink.

Yes, she’s a bit of a princess; and especially when she’s miserable she may occasionally indulge in showering a willing servant with her various requests. Fetch her this, throw away that, bring hot chocolate and snacks, take out the trash, give her attention. But how could you say no to those big, innocent eyes?

If it’s a schoolmate she will absolutely persuade them to skip their classes for the day and spend time with her instead, offering cuddles and gossip. Forgetting, or ignoring rather, that not everyone can afford to be so lax about their education. Though surely, full-time service as a personal maid slash stuffed animal is making a much better use of their time. She promises to do the same when they inevitably catch the illness themselves, if that’s any consolation.

Nightly adventures and consequent loss of sleep aside, she takes decent care of herself overall, so the understimulating agony of quarantined solitude luckily isn’t something she suffers more of than the average person… albeit that little she’s an expert at suffering luxuriously.

VIKTOR

No, he's not sick, you're just lying. The great, the indomitable, the fierce Viktor Vasco never gets sick.

Denial is definitely a big part of it. He will not admit to getting sick until he's too weak to stand, and even then he'll fight anyone who tries to get him to rest.

The boredom is somehow scarier than actual health concerns. Staying at home and being too ill to do anything except think means he'll think. And thinking leads to a whole load of other things that he doesn't want to get into.

Essentially, getting sick is a liability to everything, from his job to his sense of self.

However, good luck on trying to make him better. He will also stubbornly refuse any help that comes his way, will slam his door in the doctor's face and threaten to tear apart anyone who so much as suggests getting him medicine.

His colleagues from Lackadaisy have taken to asking Mrs Bapka, his neighbour, to administer anything they want to give him themselves (he will draw a line at punching an old woman and fellow Slovakian immigrant), or Ivy (no one can successfully dispose of Ivy and her headstrong attitude. No one.)

The last person he had actually listened to when he was sick was a certain Mordecai Heller. Needless to say, that's not the case anymore.

Maybe that's what really makes him so grumpy and reluctant.

ZIB

His immune system is either rock hard or absolute dogshit, there is no in-between. He can go through a crowd of cats with nasty 'bouts of the flu without catching it, but gets bedridden by something as small as a head cold.

Said wonky immune system may be because he tends to drink stuff cut with the most ridiculous ingredients (radiator fluid, coffin varnish, paint, water, mud, you name it he's probably tasted it)

When he gets laid up, he gets laid up hard (innuendo not intended). He has to drag himself out of bed during the worst parts of it and may not even bother, electing to curl up and shiver/cry from the pain/die where he's comfortable. His band members have to literally drag him out of there on those days and force food down his throat so he doesn't wither away

Goddammit you lanky noodle bitch look after your sick ass don't make everyone do it for you

MORDECAI

He hates falling ill with a passion. It's one of many reasons he drinks tea so often: if he does get sick, it won't hit him so hard.

He tends to try and shrug off small stuff (runny nose, mild to moderate headache, aches and pains) to go to work anyway; but he's no fool. If he really feels icky he'll stay at home and look after himself. As much as he hates to do it, he's only got one body and somebody has to look after it.

The Savoys bash/tease him relentlessly whenever he comes in sick. If the mild headache becomes something worth staying at home for, they'll go as far as to try and visit him (or get him to come to them). Is it guilt about ragging him about it, them missing him or just boredom? Hard to tell with those two.

Serafine once teased about playing as his "mama" and looking after him until he's better. Mordecai, in his sickness-muddled mind, flew off the handle at her...Though all the Savoys saw was him almost break a glass in his paws before telling them flatly to get out.

Neither one realized Serafine had hit a nerve until he refused to let them in for a few days after. Whether it was something about his past or Serafine betraying his trust to get him into her group, they let it go and pretended nothing happened once he was back in action (though there was a noticeably thicker wall between him and them)

SERAFINE/NICODEME

Meet the "clingy" duo.

They don't get sick often and have impressive immune systems, what with their past roaming the swamps and other dangerous conditions, but when they do? Oh boy...

They'll either cling to each other in private, or play it up and annoy a hapless colleague.

And by "hapless colleague", I mean Mordecai—because of course it is.

Sickness is less of an actual, preventive ailment, but rather an excuse to show off some dramatic acting skills.

"Oh, cher, I simply cannot move until you bring me some nice warm tea and chocolate!"

"If I die, tell the world I was warm and safe, because of our dear ami, Heller..."

"For crying out loud, you've both got nothing but a cold."

They'll still play it up.

Just because your nose is stuffy doesn't mean the rest of you has to be.

The show must go on, mon cher.

WICK

He gets sick really, really easily. He stays up late at night often, so he doesn't get much rest and his immunity suffers for it.

(Licking rock walls probably doesn't help with that. Muffinhead (affectionate))

He still does work and goes out when he's sick, which results in papers with shitty writing and his friends urging him to go and rest up, "we can go with you another day".

When he's not thinking straight he'll whine to Lacie about how no one wants to see him when he's sick; ignoring the fact that she's either making him food, putting a cold cloth on his head or literally came by just to say hi to him

He's a bit dim sometimes, but he's a loveable dim.

The easiest way to see how sick he is is to mention putting the work on pause or crack a joke at his expense. If he rapidly objects to not working or good-naturedly shrugs off the joke, it's a small thing, nothing to worry about. If all he has to say in response to not working is "I can't" and he tries to defend himself from the joke (or even worse, agrees with it), he's feeling god-awful.

Lacie tends to hide the alcohol away until he's feeling better. During the week or so he's really feeling foggy this actually works, since in his addled state he can't properly look for them.

MITZI (BONUS since she's been getting a fair bit of attention)

Mitzi doesn't get sick. She becomes inconvenienced.

She's also a real bitch when she's sick. It's less of a slipping mask and more of a "I can't be nice when my brain feels too big for my skull"

She'll still grin and bear it for Rocky. He's positively devoted to her, after all; the least she can do is swallow her nasty remarks and come up with something softer for him.

Some cats swear that she never falls ill or has anything happen to her...Usually because once it does happen she locks herself in her office and won't open the door if you're not Horatio or Viktor.

If another cat somehow gets through her door, can put up with her attitude swings and goes out of their way to help her through her illness, she may very well open up a little and talk to them easier. Something as small as a cup of tea during a ravenous headache will convince the then-bitchy queen that you're not all bad-and later that since you put up with her ravenous insults and still helped her, maybe you're worth swallowing her pride for and confiding in.