#currently dying of pneumonia

[daddysfavouritegirl]

Hope you haven’t missed me too much 💕

[holocrone]

i never feel as at peace as when i'm sitting here making my silly little edits and listening to music and reading lyrics and collecting quotes from my silly little tv show and making connections and feeling things and getting to know my silly little characters better and having a little drink

[sovamurka]

got jumpscared - stumbled upon a dubbing community for which i translated c-dramas a year ago before mysteriously disappearing

[jotawaifu]

Day 10 - 13

finished with the middle-ground embroidery, working on the foreground now. I was feeling a little... 'what's the point other than me being extra' for the last several sessions, but I think switching to colored thread in the foreground is actually doing quite a lot to add depth and layers overall, which is what I was hoping to do in the first place. so. hopefully my crazy idea will translate after all.

aaaand here's the back, too, to truly highlight my insanity

[anaconamor]

having to share bed with ex-bsf! jude after a night out, but he’s cold and shivering in his sleep and you can’t help but hold him. jude being all soft and subby bc he doesn’t want you to let go. apologizing over and over and falling asleep after not being able to for many weeks ☹️

it was absolutely freezing outside. small drops of water, frozen along the windows and doors. the wind gushing, hearing the trees and bushes swing. but for some reason that hadn’t stop your friends to go out and go clubbing. you had came back early, refusing to walk or wait outside in the current weather conditions.

quickly taking a body shower and slipping into warm pjs. you laid in your side, observing the walls rigid imprints. your fingers played with your necklace, attempting to calm nerves that built up by thinking of jude.

you closed your eyes quickly when your bedroom opened. knowing it was jude, you heart skipped beats, feeling the empty space next to you, but also in your chest. you heard him place the keys down, the dresser door open as he probably got clothes.

jude followed you, to and from the club, not wanting a single thing to happen to you, to protect you and keep you safe. even if the two of you were mad at each other and not on speaking terms. “why does she have to be so stubborn? why can’t she for once listen to me?”

jude quickly slipped on a pair of plaid pjs and a black long sleeve. not saying a single word or mutter as he grabbed the blanket and slipped into bed. he could smell the similar scent you wore always. having to hold back from pulling you close to him so the two of you could talk and make things right.

he remained still, turning his head back to watch you sound asleep. he knew you were asleep by the small pout on your lips, and heavy breathing you let out. he sighed and shifted to stare at you. “if only you knew how much i love you darling. i���d do anything to fix us, for you to be mine…” jude said in small whisper.

by the movements and storm outside, the weather had gotten worse. you squinted your eyes not adjusted to the light, reading the clock at 2am. you looked over, being faced with jude’s back. he was cold, shivering and trembling, despite wearing hotter clothing than you.

as you debated whether to wake him or not, you heard him sleep soundly. not a single noise from outside disturbing his sleep. just the cold feeling. “why does he have to be so oblivious? why couldn’t he see the way he made you feel? was the damage already done?” you thought.

you propped yourself onto your shoulder, a hand reaching out to wake jude up. “jude? ba- i mean jude? wake up, your shaking like crazy. are you feeling okay?” you mentally slapped yourself, almost calling him “baby.” jude stirred awake, then became aware of his surroundings when he saw the soft look in your face.

“come here. let me warm you up. you could catch a cold or worse pneumonia,” you say, laying down and extending your left arm for jude to lay there. jude groaned at the warmth your body produced, as he laid ontop of you.

your legs tangled with his, jude’s body ontop of yours as he began to calm his trembling. jude placed his head in the crook of your neck, finally breathing the scent he had to been dying for. he placed a small kiss on there, sighing in relief as he felt you.

jude felt your hands slide along his back, the draws of your palms and fingertips to your nails raking along the clothes material. you covered him as much as possible with blankets not caring if later on you go hot.

“i’m sorry,” jude muffled, his hand pulling you closer to him. he kept repeating and apologized over and over again, letting himself finally put the two do you out of misery after. jude could feel the warmness in your hands, the slow and tiny kisses you spread along his forehead, small “it’s okay,” leaving your mouth. “i haven’t been able to sleep, y/n. i can’t sleep if you’re not next to me or if i haven’t heard anything from you.”

“jude. i forgive you, now please just go to sleep, we can talk more in the morning,” you said in a small voice, jude relaxing and letting him fall completely on you, the deep slumber coming back to him as he fought his sleep but ended up sleeping soundly.

“if only you knew how much i love you jude. and not in a friend way. in the way i see you as my future husband. why can’t you just listen to me?”

[peaches2217]

Toadsworth was originally steward to the Mushroom Queen, the current regent’s late mother. They were very close friends, often spending hours in deep conversation, always at one another’s sides (to the point that whispers of an illicit affair between the two weren’t entirely uncommon, though certainly untrue — he loved her just as dearly as the King did, yes, but in a completely different manner). When she became pregnant with the King’s child, she cheerfully asked Toadsworth if he would like to be its godfather. He accepted.

The title was meant to be more a nicety than anything, a declaration of the Queen’s love for her friend and desire for him to remain a part of her family. Neither anticipated he would have to take on said title’s responsibilities.

But the Queen fell into poor health, and in spite of every medical intervention known to man and Toad alike, it became clear as the months went by that she wouldn’t live to raise her child. Mercifully, she gave birth to a perfectly healthy baby girl, and then three weeks later she passed peacefully in her bed, her husband and her steward both by her side.

The King fell into grief so immense that it swallowed him whole, and he shut out the world and numbly threw himself into his duties as monarch to cope. And though he too grieved for his dearest friend, Toadsworth had every intention of honoring her wishes: he took in his godchild — Peach, the Queen had named her, because she looked a great deal like the fruit when she was born, plump and swaddled in pink — and he raised her in her parents’ place.

Three years after he lost the love of his life, pneumonia or something similar befell the King, and he put up no fight against it, dying no more familiar with his wife’s child than he had been the day she was born. But in raising Peach, Toadsworth found the healing his King had shunned; he processed his grief between late-night feedings and tired lullabies sung in scratchy voices, and soon the love he felt for her as the last living reminder of his best friend became far more: the love a father feels for his own.

To this day, Peach doesn’t know that Toadsworth is her godfather. He never told anyone, least of all her; when she asks for stories of the woman she never knew, he’ll happily tell her all except for that little tidbit. He’s merely her humble steward, serving her as he served her mother. But he’ll always consider himself her father in secret… and Peach, in turn, is all too happy to consider herself his daughter.

[halfagonyandhope]

How about a good ol’ sick fic 🤒 you choose who’s under the weather

He’s not sure he’s ever been this terrified before.

And that’s saying something, as just a standard month prior Obi-Wan Kenobi had been on the brink of death after falling victim to the venom-mites of Draboon. But that had been different. For one thing, he’d been mostly unconscious through the worst of the pain. And for another, he’d known Satine had been safe.

But now, on the other side of the planet, he’s also on the other side of fate, and he’s staring down at a nearly lifeless Satine, watching her shiver by the fading light of the fire.

Obi-Wan looks up toward the entrance to the cave, as though he has the ability to summon Qui-Gon back with sheer willpower alone. The elder Jedi had gone in search of more kindling to feed the dying flames, and he’d been away long enough that the temperature of their sanctuary had dropped precipitously.

Satine is shaking again, her fever still high.

Obi-Wan hesitates. He’d already wrapped his cloak around her, but he feels so damn helpless.

He remembers Qui-Gon’s words from earlier, in response to his question.

“Mandalorian medical factories pivoted away from producing vaccines and toward production of bandages and other supplies when the war began,” he’d told Obi-Wan. “When your people are dying, you don’t allocate resources to preventive health; you triage your available facilities to stop the bleeding where it’s currently happening.”

Obi-Wan had looked at him, aghast. “So Satine’s immune system isn’t as strong as yours or mine? That’s why we haven’t caught whatever she has?”

“Thank the healers at the Temple that your inoculations are up to date,” Qui-Gon had responded. “I’d wager that Satine’s people haven’t had access to such technology for many years.”

Obi-Wan returns his attention to here, now, in the cave. Oh, how he wishes he’d had the foresight to take her to the Hall of Healing before they’d departed Coruscant. But they’d had so little time, and he’d had so little knowledge of what they would face on the run.

He sighs.

Satine jerks suddenly, and a coughing fit seizes her entire body. It’s an eerie, horrible sound that echoes throughout the cave, and she struggles to catch her breath afterward.

Obi-Wan crawls to her, seeing that she’s awake.

“Water,” she mouths, her throat too weak to form the words.

Obi-Wan nods and reaches for the canteen near his feet. With his other arm, he pulls Satine up, holding her against his chest, her torso at a slight incline so that gravity can do the work she is too exhausted to. He puts the canteen to her lips, and she manages to swallow a few sips.

He sets the canteen aside, wrapping his other arm around her and noticing how she’s sweat through her tunic. But the sweat is turning cold as the temperature around them plummets, and Satine is still shaking.

And Obi-Wan is terrified all over again.

He pulls the cloak more tightly around her.

She just needs to make it through the night. Tomorrow, Qui-Gon will rendezvous with a contact who has retrovirals and antibiotics, the former to treat the initial infection and the latter to treat what Obi-Wan suspects is secondary pneumonia.

She just needs to make it through the night.

He realizes with a jolt that Satine is no longer shaking.

“Satine?” he whispers, alarmed.

“‘M alright,” she says, slurring her words, her cheek against his collarbone. “Finally warm.”

Obi-Wan examines her more closely. Sweat has stuck her hair to her face, and he brushes the strands away from her brow. The relief he feels upon seeing the tension fade from her jaw - it’s practically indescribable. 

Gradually, the tension also lessens in her shoulders and around her torso.

Obi-Wan feels Satine’s fingers fist in the fabric of his tunic, just over his heart. Her eyes are still closed, but she says, her voice cracking and strained, “I must have been quite close to death to receive that reaction.”

He laughs at how she’s echoed his words from when he’d woken by her side after surviving the venom-mite attack.

He tightens his grip on her. “You’re still quite close to death, by all appearances,” he notes.

“Well, then, I suppose you better keep being nice to me.” She breathes deeply but unevenly. “At least until I pull through. Then you can resume being insufferable.”

“Insufferable?” he says, disbelieving. She’d been the one who’d continued to be argumentative, even after the venom-mites.

Even after she’d kissed him.

Even after he’d kissed her back.

Obi-Wan grimaces. Maybe he’d also been argumentative. 

And maybe he’d liked it.

“Yes,” says Satine, her voice cracking. “Insufferable man. Incorrigible, even.”

In love, Obi-Wan’s brain supplies suddenly, and he tenses. He looks down again at Satine, wondering if she’s noticed, but she’s fallen back asleep, reclaimed by unconsciousness.

He closes his eyes in wonder.

The realization should frighten him more than anything else, but it doesn’t.

From the start, it’s like he had known she’d change everything he thought he knew about the galaxy. He’d pushed her away, repeatedly, scared of what she’d reveal about his feelings and how those feelings would reveal he wasn’t made to be a Jedi.

But he finds - to his surprise - that his feelings for her…somehow they don’t negate his ability to protect her. They don’t endanger her, or him.

The light he feels, the strength of his feelings - it all makes it easier to connect with the Force. It makes him a better Jedi.

It feels so antithetical to everything he’s ever been taught that he wonders if he’d ever really understood the Jedi at all.

Obi-Wan brushes a kiss to Satine’s temple.

And, suddenly, he’s afraid no longer.

[laswells-ashtray]

IM GONNA FUCKING KMS🤩🫶!!! My throat is coughed raw, even drinking water irritates my throat, I have a fever and a headache, random ass inconsistent cramps, every time I cough my head pounds in sync, my body is achy, hot flashes, I'm hot and I'm cold. I'm on my last leg, I'm dying, I have no idea what I have. It could be a simple cold, it could be bronchitis from a friend, or pneumonia from another friend. I'm going insane

Jesus Christ, someone get them on House MD urgently.

Well, my current advice is don't die and if it comes down to it, weed nap your way through it.

[enchantedabode]

“Flu season” -Keith Kogane x Reader

I currently have pneumonia so I’m writing this in bed dying. Sorry for the spelling mistakes or if you can’t understand what’s happening because I can’t either

Tw: vomiting, sickness, dissociating.

You curled up into a ball and sniffled next to the trash can full of balled up tissues. You groan as you blow your nose yet nothing coming out. You hear a knock at the door and a tall man with long black hair walks into your room. “Y/N? Hey lay on your bed, you’re only gonna make yourself feel worse if you’re on the cold ground.” Keith picks you up and places you on the bed before tying your hair up. “I have some medicine for you, can you sit up for me?” You nod and sit up, leaning against the wall as he gives you a….medicine cup…? “I know you struggle taking pills so….just drink this okay?” You sigh and gulp down the grape flavored medicine. “It doesn’t even taste like grape it just tastes like…..purple.” You give the cup back to him and rest your head on the pillow. “It tastes like….purple..?” Keith is clearly confused by your statement and looks at you, completely boggled. “Shhh shut up, shut up. You’re…fucking like..not real dude. No wait, I’m not real…nothing feels real!” You throw the blanket over your head and groan in annoyance. Keith takes the blanket off of your face and places a thermometer in your mouth. “Relax for me please, I need to take your temperature.” You close your mouth and wait until the thermometer beeps. When Keith takes the thermometer out of your mouth he frowns and rubs your arm gently. “102°….” He turns on the fan and sits next to you once more. “You have a pretty bad fever, do you want some soup?” You shake your head and the thought of food makes you wanna vomit. “Are you sure? Hunk can make you some tomato, or chicken, or even dumpling if you’d like.” You sit up know what’s gonna happen next if you hear one more damn mention of food. “Keith shut up.” Keith wipes the drool from your lips and gives you a worrying look. “You’re drooling like crazy, are you sure you don’t want something? Not even crackers?” That was the last straw, you run into the bathroom in your room and empty your stomach into the toilet. Keith follows you and rubs your back comfortingly. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know yo-” “Sh-ut up.” You spit into the toilet and lean against the shower. “Sorry..” Keith wipes the remaining vomit off of your lips with some tissue. He waits for you to get all of the vomit out before picking you up and placing you on the bed. He wipes the sweat from your forehead and gently places the blanket on you. “Sleep well lovely. You deserve it”

Sorry if the name Alex was in Keith’s sentences I’m half awake with pneumonia and that’s my name 💔 I just wanna sleep I love y’all though mwah. Also more Keith content is on the way school hasn’t really let me work on it though

[evieskiesss]

when r u gonna post more of ur requests im dying over here without any updates :( pls post!!!

i’m so sorry, loves. i promise i will post soon! i currently have covid which is quickly turning into pneumonia so im like.. very sick☹️. i just need to start standing on business but it makes me happy to know someone misses my fics : ).

please be patient with me guys, i’m having a hard time. thank you if you’ve been waiting , i love you<3.

[aftonfamilyvalues]

so the neilman dragging in your asks a couple weeks ago, where you mention him getting pissy that some 90s feminists didn't see trans women as women, reminded me of one deeply deeply weird short story he wrote in the 90s called 'changes' in which a man called rajit (a man he needs to point out is gay and only has sex with male prostitutes cause he's such a fucking genius he can't have a social life, and whose penis neil describes as 'nutlike') comes up with a cure for cancer that reboots your genetic code, except a side effect is you change sex. whoopsie! some parts are a bit funny (mostly side comments about how inaccurate the biopics on the guy are) but a lot of it is just weird, fetishy, and transhumanist, but also weirdly prescient for current day gender politics, although probably not in the way neil thought. the first person rajit experiments on is a woman who ends up dying of pneumonia anyway. neil goes on to describe the social changes this causes society wide in detail, especially from religious groups and recreational users, but never ONCE mentions what feminist groups have to say about it, what effect this has on women or violence against women, cause this dood never even thought about it. there's a scene where a male takes the drug to change sex to go with an outfit, masturbates with his dick, passes out, wakes up with a vagina and those kind of triangle boobs girls get when they first grow boobs (and how does neil, a man, know this?), and then uses his pussyjuice as perfume. there is almost nothing about the benefits for trans people, how it's a life-saver the best thing to ever happen to them, other than a passing mention of how it makes trans surgeries obsolete. like it's clearly being abused as a fetish drug people take. there are mentions of boys being forced to take it so they'll make more money being sex trafficked, men who can't prove they weren't born women are imprisoned and raped in arab countries. taking the drug halts the aging process for some, giving the appearance of long youth. a woman who can easily tell natal sex acts as a bouncer for a club that only lets in those who haven't rebooted their sex, and is violently beaten up because of it and she learns her lesson and never does it again. rajit eventually dies of prostate cancer rather than take his own drug, hallucinating on the beach, blood dripping from his penis, thinking all these androgynous beings on his drug are angels. it is one of the weirdest things hes ever written.

i literally have no idea what to say about this. i had to look this up just to make sure i wasnt being fucked with. and people hail this guy as some sort of god of literature? jesus fucking christ

[eureka-its-zico]

Hi, how are you doing? Honestly missed seeing you in my feed and hope you are taking good care of yourself🤍🤍

Hello babes!

I wish I could write I’ve been doing well and happy things but, unfortunately, it would be a fat ass lie.

June fucking sucked. Not only am I still permanently disabled (what is this nonsense?!), I’m disabled without being able to make an income which fucking sucks because my doctor can’t release me to work without intense accommodations that apparently NO JOB can fucking accommodate, which makes no sense because you aren’t supposed to discriminate against people who unfortunately can’t function like a normal person, alas here we are. On top of that, my care team on the pulmonary side feels like they’re just twirling their thumbs and waiting for my immune compromised ass just to get sick again to see if I end up with congestive heart failure (again) in lung x-rays and lab work and I’m having a surgery I don’t really understand and now I feel like Oliver Twist because the only thing I got is my writing and my books and just me in the corner waiting for the universe to be kind to me like -

^^^ literally me trying to figure out how to pay rent, bills, and get basic human needs in this economy while I wait for the government to decide if I’m broken enough for them to pay me.

And the cherry on top is my Grandma has been in the hospital since June with necrotizing pneumonia. She’s been intubated. Come off intubation only to end up on the bipap and hi-flow oxygen and yesterday, we as a family came together with palliative care to essentially talk about the fact she is dying and what route do we want to take in her death.

So ya girl is exhausted. Heavily seasoned. I can’t enjoy writing, reading, video games, or watching shows/anime. I just curl up into the fetal position and try and sleep away the day because being awake currently sucks.

I apologize profusely that this couldn’t be a lighter and happier reply, Nonnie. Ya girl is just exhausted with life and I want to say good days are hopefully coming soon, but I know my grandma will be passing soon. I’m both sad about it, but also happy because I know at least she’ll finally be at peace and be able to get some rest. She deserves it.

After all this, I hope you, dear Nonnie, are doing okay. That these days have been treating you with kindness and you’ve been treating yourself with the love you deserve, always. Take care of yourself, and wishing you happiness, always 🖤 much love, Jenn

[kingofsummer93]

Sunny one so true, I love you

This is part 2 of an Elucien fic for the acotar writing circle organized by @azrielshadowssing.

Part 1 was written by the lovely @fieldofdaisiies. Check out the masterlist to read the other fics, and to read part 3, which will be posted on April 23rd by a different author.

Elain raced all the way from the bus stop to her apartment building, holding her thin cardigan over her head as a measly barrier against the sudden downpour. With each step she became more and more drenched- her flats were immediately soaked, the cold rain seeping through her makeshift umbrella to chill her directly to the bone. The song she’d had stuck in her head all day played on an endless loop inside her head, as if mocking her current predicament.

The dark days are gone

And the bright days are here

The world’s idea of a cruel joke.

It was her fault, really, for going to class in such a summery outfit without checking the forecast. The weather was unpredictable at this time of year- it could feel like summer in the morning and winter by night. If she hadn’t wanted to look cute for a certain someone and had actually bothered with season-appropriate clothing then she wouldn’t be in this mess.

Even the memory of his eyes on her as he checked her out that morning wasn’t enough to keep her from regretting the flirty sleeveless green dress. If she ended up getting pneumonia it would be his fault.

The thought made her grumble as she finally arrived at her building, struggling to open the heavy door while also holding her cardigan overhead and juggling her books and purse. A sudden gust of wind caught in the flowy fabric of her skirt, and she shrieked, almost tumbling to the floor of the lobby as she tried valiantly to cover her exposed ass.

Please, please, please, let the lobby be empty, she prayed to any god who would listen. The last thing she needed was to go down in history as the girl who had mooned one of their elderly neighbors.

Her hair was whipping around her face, her once-smooth curls now a frizzy halo. She was still struggling to wipe her hair out of her eyes and regain her balance when she stumbled head-first into someone.

Or, more specifically, someone’s very hard, very muscled chest. She would have fallen over were it not for the hand that wrapped around her arm, keeping her upright while another hand gently brushed her sodden curls out of her eyes.

Shit.

Elain knew who it was going to be before she even looked up. She’d know that scent anywhere. Spicy, warm, a little bit sweet, and undeniably, dizzyingly male.

Shit.

“You ok there, Sunny?”

Elain shivered at the sound of that voice- deep, rumbling, forever tinged with humor. At least this time she could blame her shiver on the rain and her soaked clothes.

The hand on her arm was warm and steadying, and when he let her go and stepped back she felt its absence like a phantom limb. She smoothed her dress and hair as gracefully as she could, given the fact that she was currently dripping water onto the tiled floor.

When she finally looked up at him she wished she hadn’t. Lucien was grinning at her almost wolfishly, his russet eyes lit up and twinkling like a Christmas tree. Damn it. She’d just given him what was probably enough ammunition for a year’s worth of teasing.

And not only that, but as she fully took him in she found her voice dying in her throat. He’d clearly just come from the gym, and was wearing nothing but a pair of loose shorts, with a soaked t-shirt slung over his shoulder. His golden-brown skin glistened with sweat, and his face and neck were still tinged pink from his workout. Elain’s mind immediately ran away from her, picturing what other activities could leave him looking like this, sweaty and tired and-

Lucien’s grin intensified. Shit. She was staring. Damn him. Damn him and his stupidly beautiful face and dumb, idiotically muscular body.

“I’m fine!” Her voice came out like a breathy squeak. Great. The absolute picture of cool, detached grace.

She didn’t wait to see his inevitable smirk before hurrying towards the elevators and punching the button repeatedly. As if they weren’t headed to the exact same place. As if she could escape him.

She felt more than heard him coming to stand next to her, as if her body was attuned to his presence. Her cheeks were burning so hotly that she was sure they probably matched Lucien’s vibrant hair. If they didn’t live on the seventh floor she would have already bolted for the stairs.

When the elevator finally arrived Lucien followed her inside silently, though she could feel his eyes on her like a brand. The silence stretched on as the old elevator made its clunky way up, until Elain felt like a stretched rubber band about to snap. It was very unlike him to be this quiet, and it unnerved her. No doubt he was silently coming up with the best taunts to torture her with later.

The elevator came to a stop with a ding! and Elain practically ran down the hall towards their apartment. She was still scrambling around in her purse for her keys, trying not to drop her books all over the floor, when the sound of his voice directly behind her made her jump.

“I got it.”

Elain kept her gaze down as she turned, meaning to step out of his way, when she found her path was barred by a strong arm braced against the doorframe. Her breath caught in her throat. Lucien was standing so close that if she leaned forward only a few inches she could have tasted the sweat on his chest. She tried to take a step back, but her back met the cool wood of the front door. Her eyes lifted higher still, as if pulled by a magnet, until she met his gaze.

His eyes were dark, and so intense as he looked at her that she felt herself burn even hotter. His full lips were still twisted in a grin, and when his tongue darted out to wet them Elain’s knees nearly buckled. And then he leaned down, and her heart stopped.

Oh god he was going to kiss her. Right here, right now, against the door, as her soaked dress dripped onto the floor and her teeth chattered with cold.

But then he was reaching into his shoe, and she realized he was simply retrieving his key. She didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved as he slid the key into the lock and turned, pushing open the door slightly.

Elain would have fallen backwards if he hadn’t caught her again, this time with a hand pressed against her lower back. His other arm was still braced against the doorframe, trapping her within a cocoon of his body.

They’d flirted and teased and taunted each other before, but they had never touched like this, and it was intoxicating. She couldn’t move or look away as she watched his eyes rove over her, snagging on her chest. One of the advantages of being small-chested was that she could often forgo a bra, but it also meant that her nipples were currently extremely visible through the soaked, thin fabric of her dress.

Her heart was racing so swiftly she was sure he must be able to hear it. It was an effort to keep her hands at her sides, and not to reach for him. She wasn’t sure whether she’d pull him closer or push him away.

He leaned down again, this time bringing his lips so close to her ears that when he spoke his breath ruffled her hair.

“Nice thong,” he whispered. His voice was raspy and gravelly, and if she hadn’t known better she might have though he sounded slightly breathless.

She barely had a second to register the fact that he had, in fact, seen her bare ass, before he smoothly sidestepped her and disappeared into the apartment, whistling merrily. Her mouth dropped open after his retreating back.

“Excuse me?” she stuttered, kicking the door shut behind her and dumping her books onto the floor.

Lucien grinned over his shoulder as he headed for the kitchen. “I said nice thong,” he repeated, enunciating slowly. “I didn’t know they made dental floss that color.”

Elain didn’t wait for his laughter to start echoing around the kitchen before she ran to the bathroom and slammed the door shut. She sank onto the edge of the tub and buried her face in her hands.

There was no overcoming this embarrassment. The only solution was to move and never see him again. Vassa would be disappointed, but she would understand.

That was when she remembered. Vassa and Jurian had left to spend the weekend at Vassa’s parents’ house. She was alone with Lucien until Sunday night.

Fine. That was fine, she would survive. She would simply stay in her room until Sunday, and wait for Lucien to leave before coming out for meals.

With a resigned sigh she turned the shower on the hottest setting and stepped under the hot blast. When she had finally thawed the chill from her bones she wrapped herself in a thick towel- and then realized that she had not brought any clothes into the bathroom. Damn it. Why had she thought it would be a good idea to move in with boys?

Elain pressed her ear to the door, and bit her lip as she heard Lucien moving around in the kitchen. He was still whistling, and it sounded suspiciously like the song that had played on a loop in her mind all day.

Sunny, yesterday my life was filled with rain

Sunny, you smiled at me and really eased the pain

Damn him. If he wanted to play games, then she could play games, too.

She wrapped the towel tighter around herself, gripping it so tightly her knuckles turned white. Before she could rethink it, she squared her shoulders and strolled out of the bathroom. The whistling stopped the instant she stepped foot into the kitchen.

She could see Lucien sitting on a stool at the kitchen island out of the corner of her eye, but she didn’t dare look at him. His gaze followed her as she walked to the fridge and peered inside, immediately grateful for the rush of cool air against her heated cheeks. She bent over as much as she dared, pretending to inspect the mostly empty fridge.

“I’m going to order pizza,” she declared. “Want some?”

Only then did she finally turn to look at him, and the look on his face had her biting back a laugh. His jaw was hanging clean off its hinges, his eyes wide with surprise. He wasn’t even trying to pretend not to be staring at her. Elain felt a rush of victory. Two could play this game.

When he didn’t answer she cocked her head at him innocently. “Well?” she prompted. “Pizza? Yes, no?”

He seemed to rouse himself then, shaking his head as if he had been in a daze. “Oh, sure, yeah, sounds good. Whatever you want.” With that he jumped up from his seat and disappeared into the bathroom.

---

By the time Lucien came out of the bathroom and walked back into the living room the pizza had been delivered. Elain was lounging on the couch, sipping from a bottle of beer. If the sight of her plush lips wrapping around the neck of the bottle hadn’t been enough to set his blood boiling again, then her outfit certainly would have been. She was wearing a long t-shirt that barely grazed the tops of her thighs, with her legs innocently tucked underneath her.

Either she had no idea the effect she had on him, or she was actively trying to kill him.

For some reason he was pretty sure it was the latter, and that drove him even more crazy. Maybe she’d finally decided he’d gone too far with his teasing. Either way, he wasn’t about to complain.

She smirked at him as she unfurled her legs from underneath her and reached for a slice of pizza. “That was a spectacularly long shower. I’m shocked you didn’t run out of hot water.”

The way she was grinning made him think that she knew precisely what he’d been doing in there. Ironically, with the image of her bare ass in that scrap of pink lace fresh in his mind, it had taken a spectacularly short amount of time before he’d been spilling himself all over his hand.

“Maybe if you join me next time we can save some water.”

Elain choked on her pizza, guzzling down her beer to stop the coughing.

“What?” Lucien asked innocently. “Don’t you care about the earth, Sunny?”

She rolled her eyes at him, though not before her cheeks turned the most exquisite shade of pink. He’d never tire of that blush. It was almost the same shade as that lace he’d spied nestled in between her perfectly pert-

Stop it. Don’t be a pervert.

“Eat your pizza,” she scolded him. “And stop calling me that.”

“Hmm. Maybe I should call you Thunder instead.” The look she gave him was so unimpressed that he couldn’t hold back his laugh. “Thunder it is.”

“Don’t you own any shirts?” Elain asked suddenly, her eyes fixed on his bare chest.

Lucien threw her another grin. The sweatpants and no shirt route never failed. “Don’t you own any pants?”

She shrugged, biting her lip to keep from smiling. What he wouldn’t give for that to be his lip between her teeth.

“Maybe we need to take fashion advice from each other,” she quipped back.

An image slid into his mind- Elain, in his bed, wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts. Or better yet, nothing at all.

Hands off, Vassa had warned him. Elain Archeron is a nice girl and if you hurt her feelings I will gut you.

He could admit that maybe the threat had not been unjustified, given his less-than-innocent track record with women. Still, he was starting to suspect that she might not be as much of a good girl as she pretended to be.

Oh, how he’d love to find out.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked, tossing his crust back in the box.

Elain raised an eyebrow at him, as if to say When have I ever been able to stop you?

“Why did you date that guy?”

He’d been wondering that since the first time he met Elain, back when she was Vassa’s very unattainable, very not single friend. Finding out that she had a boyfriend had been a blow, but finding out that she had been dating a dweeb like Nolan…

Elain picked at the label on her bottle absently. He half expected her to glare at him, or throw some retort back in his face, but to his surprise she just shrugged. “Honestly? He was a nice guy. Well, at first, anyway,” she added with a dry laugh. “He paid attention to me. He was one of the few guys I knew who was interested in more than just hooking up.”

“Seems like a weak reason to date someone.”

This time she did glare at him. “Says the guy who’s never had a real girlfriend.”

Lucien clapped a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “Don’t spare my feelings there, Thunder.”

The jab still stung, however much he pretended like it didn’t. He wasn’t the guy that girls dated. He was the distraction after guys like Graysen broke their hearts, and it had always been just fine by him.

Except when it came to Elain.

“You know what I’ve always wondered?” Lucien mused out loud.

Elain shook her head with a small smile. “I’m scared to know.”

“Why is it that girls in books and movies always like bad boys?”

Elain snorted, and then threw her head back and laughed. It was the most glorious sound he’d ever heard, and he felt his lips spread into a silly grin.

“That’s because they’re fictional characters and don’t have actual brains,” she replied, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes.

Lucien pouted, turning on the couch so he could face her fully. “And where does that leave us real-life bad boys?”

Elain laughed again, though with less conviction than before. Their gazes caught and held, and he noted with some satisfaction that she seemed to be having some difficulty breathing.

“See, I have a feeling you like to think you’re bad, but I’m not sure if you actually are.”

“Oh?”

A shrug. “Do bad boys make girls pancakes and fruit salad unprompted?”

“Would you like to find out?”

Dangerous. This was dangerous territory. Vassa would absolutely flay him alive, but he couldn’t help it, not when she looked at him like that…

Elain scoffed, tucking and untucking her legs. Lucien forced himself to keep his gaze on her face and not on the expanse of bare thigh inches away from him. “If you have something to ask, you can just ask, you know.”

Right. Because a proper gentleman would ask her on a date first.

Fuck it.

This would either end very badly or very well, but before he could talk himself out of it he grabbed one of bare ankles and yanked. She let out a high pitch squeak as she landed flat on her back on the couch.

Lucien leaned forward and hovered over her until their lips were inches apart. It would be so easy to just lean down a little further and finally taste those lips he’d been fantasizing about for so long.

Her chest was rising and falling heavily, her eyes wide and dilated. He braced a hand next to her head and leaned further still, until her breath tickled his lips.

“I’m asking,” he murmured, “if you’d like to find out whether I’m a nice guy or not.”

He waited for the eye roll, or the scoff, or the hand pushing him off her. He waited for his idiotic hopes to come crashing down around him, for the bitter disappointment to fester in his heart.

But instead- a quirk of the lips, a low, throaty laugh that had him instantly hard.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

I swear to gooooooood I feel like I’m dying. I went to the doctors and they said I don’t have COVID, I don’t have the flu, I don’t have pneumonia, I just have a cold…

But I’ve been coughing like this for almost a week and a half now and it’s getting worse.

I really am trying to work on fics to put out though, I’m currently working on a Hyunjin fic that I hope you all will like. It’s very angsty, very dark… I’m working on it. Please stick by me, I hope I will be better soon and be able to put out fics consistently again.

[packedwithpackards]

Mystery of Frances Appleton Packard

This past June I wrote about the importance of LGBTQ+ ancestors, stating that there are more queer ancestors within my family tree, and pointed out my fourth cousin five times removed, Frances Appleton Packard (1836-1902), noting that she "was always listed as single and never noted as marrying anyone, which can be a clue that the person is a queer individual". [1] In this post, I'd like to focus on her life.

Reprinted from my Packed with Packards! WordPress.

Frances was born in Brunswick, a town within Cumberland County, Maine on March 28, 1836 to Alpheus Spring Packard, Sr., a professor of Greek and Latin at Bowdoin College, and Frances Elizabeth Appleton, said to be a "woman of rare excellence". Unfortunately, when Frances A. was three years old, her mother would die for reasons not yet known. Frances A. next appears in the 1850 census, living with her father, Alpheus Sr., her five brothers (Charles A., William A., George L., Alpheus Jr., Robert L.), her stepmother Caroline W. Bartels (Alpheus Sr.'s second wife), and two boarders: 12-year-old George McLellan and 17-year-old Joanna Sillers. By 1860, however, she would not be living in the same household as her parents. Where she was living that year remains a mystery. But, one can make the supposition that she was still living in Brunswick, as she was living with her family in 1870 with her father and stepmother. This would be unchanged by 1880, as she still lived in Brunswick with her parents and an 18-year-old servant named Margaret Cusick in the household. [2]

Further evidence of her residence in Brunswick is made clear by one document: the school catalogue of Abbott Female Academy. She attended there between 1851 and 1852. She was among many married women, many of whom were from towns in New England or elsewhere. Abbott Academy, based in Andover, Massachusetts, was a well-known independent boarding prep school which was aimed at educating young women, with women proving key to its success, and was beginning to develop its robust curriculum. She would not be a student there the following term, from 1852 to 1853. She would only be briefly mentioned elsewhere, and additional records show that she was living in Bath, Maine (first on 21 Linden and later on 894 Washington), through the 1890s and into the early 1900s. In these records, she is never noted as marrying anyone else, always shown noted as being unmarried. [3] She would die on July 20, 1902 in Bath from bronchitis pneumonia and be noted as a housekeeper:

This image combines records from Maine, U.S., Death Records, 1761-1922 for Frances Appleton Packard, 1902, P, Maine State Archives; Cultural Building, 84 State House Station, Augusta, ME 04333-0084; 1892-1907 Vital Records; Roll Number: 43, Images 1-2. Charles, her brother, is noted as providing information about her.

She would be buried in Pine Grove Cemetery alongside her parents. Her Find A Grave entry only says two words currently: "Never married." [4] There's much more that can be said about her, however. A search on newspapers.com uncovered an obituary in the Sun-Journal which described her as a "woman of culture", a "deep student of literature" and member of the Fortnightly club. It also notes that she lived in Brunswick from her birth, in 1836 until the death of her father in 1884, and then moved to Bath, where she lived, meeting "many warm-hearted friends" which he kept until her death. It further notes her membership in the Congregational Church of Brunswick and later in the Winter street church in Bath. She was noted as dying, at the age of 63, at the home of her brother Charles who lived in Bath as well. Other notices pointed out that William, the sister of Frances, would administer his estate. [5]

We also learn, from the newspapers, that Frances visited the Bath Military and Naval Orphan Asylum in February 1898, where it turns out she worked as a "lady visitor" since at least January 1895. She is not to be confused with Frances Elizabeth Packard (1880-1971), daughter of Alpheus Jr. (Frances A.'s brother) and Elizabeth Derby Walcott who was said to be a "remarkably interesting young woman" who went on a trip to Europe, Asia, and Africa, from 1898 to 1899, and reportedly had "many friends" in Auburn and Lewiston. As for Frances A., one article confirmed her trip to Liverpool in 1899. She was clearly more than someone who was unmarried whose nickname was purportedly "Fanny", but a person who had a full life. [6]

The Bath Military and Naval Orphan Asylum was a place that helped out soldiers' orphans, and "half orphans of officers, soldiers, seamen and marines" who died while in combat or from wounds, injuries, or disease. This may be why Frances A. was listed as a housekeeper on her death record. It also included soldiers’ and sailor’s orphan children and grandchildren of any gender, specifically veterans of the Civil War. By January 1903, there were 69 children in the asylum plus 18 who were admitted and 25 taken in by other homes or relatives. Some children had been "farmed to outside homes" but came back to the asylum for "one reason or another".

In 1892, Frances A. voices her views on the aforementioned asylum in 1892 and shows that she is impressed by it [7]

In sum, much of the life of Frances Appleton Packard remains a mystery, complicated by the fact there were others who had similar names, leading to a propensity of false drops. Additionally, while she was noted as single throughout her life, I could find no indication that she ever had a partner. The supposition, based on what I said at the beginning of this post, that those listed as single may be queer is still a good one, but in the case of Frances A., all we can say is that she was single and unmarried throughout her life, as no evidence points to anything else. After all, thought her life, Maine had in place a sodomy law which imprisoned people for ten years, after a revision in 1840, for the crime of sodomy (anal sex, oral sex, or bestiality), laws which are usually used against gay or lesbian people. It would only be repealed in 1976. Even so, some have said that Maine has a "rich LGBT history that is relatively unknown". Interestingly, Brunswick is among the towns recommended for where LGBTQ people should move, while Bath is not. The exact history of LGBTQ people in those towns is still fuzzy, although one source said that "rural Maine gays who had little support in their small towns." That was likely the case for Brunswick and Bath, perhaps more for the latter than the former. [8] In sum, the story of Frances A., living in a town based in shipbuilding (Bath) and the center of activity for the Pejepscot region (Brunswick) remains unwritten, but this article is just the start.

© 2023 Burkely Hermann. All rights reserved.

Notes

[1] There are other ancestors that I believe might be gay or otherwise queer, since they never married: my great-granduncles Harold "Harry" Cyrus Packard (1907-1975), Herbert Miles Packard (1898-1966), and Thomas "Tom" Theodore Packard (1902-1975) (this would be funny as he was apparently staunchly Republican), my great-grandaunts Olive Martha Packard (1896-1969) and Rachel May Packard (1900-1933), my second great-uncle Joseph B. Mills (1844-1900), my first cousin two times removed Giles Franklin Whitley (1911-1970) who died in 1970. The same is the case for my great-granduncle Joseph Winfield Packard (1885-1910), but that is no surprise as he only lived to the age of 24 before a freight train took his life. The same is the case for my first cousin three times removed Harry Tilson Packard (1879-1915), my first cousin three times removed, who died at the age of 36 in Los Angeles, and my second great aunt Mary M. Packard (1862-1887) who died at only 24 years old. I also have a nonbinary cousin, whose name I won't mention here, and on that note, I'd love to find some nonbinary ancestors, although that could be a challenge. There's also the interesting fact that my second great-grandaunt Margaret "Maggie" E. Mills (1854-1920) and father of great-grandaunt Thomas H. Crosgrove (b. 1858) only had a child when they adopted Mabel Hattie Packard (1892-1961), my great-grandaunt who is the child of Cyrus Winfield Packard (1852-1924) and Dorothy "Dora" Ann Mills (1849-1895), adopted by Thomas and Mabel at age 3. Also, Mary Jane Mills (b. 1854) my 2nd great-grand aunt was not married, from the little we know about her, nor was my second great-grand uncle, William Mills (b. 1861), my first cousin three times removed, Joseph Arthur Packard (1891-1911) who died at age 20, my first cousin three times removed, Walter Archie Packard (1903-1928) who died at age 25 when he was crushed by an elevator in the Montgomery Ward building in Albany. Additionally, my second great-granduncle B. Fred "Freddie" Packard (1858-1884) never married, nor did my first cousin four times removed Eva L. Packard (1876-1967), living in Kansas City for over 50 years, my first cousin four times removed Martha Elvira Packard (1880-1957), living in Kansas City like her sister Eva. The same is the case for my fourth great-grandaunt Ruby Packard (1799-1871) who never married and died of old age or my fourth great-grandaunt Sally Packard (1792-1868). Also, my first cousin three times removed Ida Martha Packard (1892-1973) and her husband Andrew Erastus Kenney (1891-1971) never had any children. Then there's Polly Nash Packard (1819-1868), my third great-grandaunt, termed to have a mental illness by censustakers and stayed at home for her whole life.

[2] 1850 United States Federal Census for Frances A Packard, Maine, Cumberland, Brunswick, Year: 1850; Census Place: Brunswick, Cumberland, Maine; Roll: 251; Page: 254b; 1860 United States Federal Census for Alpheus S Packard, Maine, Cumberland, Brunswick, Year: 1860; Census Place: Brunswick, Cumberland, Maine; Roll: M653_437; Page: 58; Family History Library Film: 803437; 1870 United States Federal Census for Frances A Packard, Maine, Cumberland, Brunswick, Year: 1870; Census Place: Brunswick, Cumberland, Maine; Roll: M593_539; Page: 75A; 1880 United States Federal Census for Francis A. Packard, Maine, Cumberland, Brunswick, 024, Year: 1880; Census Place: Brunswick, Cumberland, Maine; Roll: 477; Page: 55C; Enumeration District: 024. I went through all 120 pages of the 1860 United States Federal Census for Brunswick and didn't see anyone who was Frances. Interestingly, there is a family led by a 45-year-old John Mills and 30-year-old Mary Mills on image 80 (of 120).

[3] U.S., College Student Lists, 1763-1924 for Frances A Packard, Massachusetts, Abbott Female Academy, 1879 (date of publication), Image 174 (and page 48); U.S., College Student Lists, 1763-1924, Massachusetts, Abbott Female Academy, 1879 (date of publication), Image 176; https://archive.org/details/memorialalpheuss00litt/page/10/mode/2up (on page 10); U.S., City Directories, 1822-1995 for Frances A Packard, Maine, Bath, 1897, Bath, Maine, City Directory, 1897, Image 134 (Page 131); Boston, Massachusetts, U.S., Book Indexes to Passenger Lists, 1899-1940, (002) Aug. 26, 1899-June 30, 1900, National Archives and Records Administration (NARA); Washington, D.C.; Book Indexes to Boston Passenger Lists, 1899-1940; Microfilm Serial: T790; Microfilm Roll: 2, Image 148; U.S., City Directories, 1822-1995 for Frances A Packard, Maine, Bath, 1902, Bath, Maine, City Directory, 1902, Image 83 (page 161).

[4] Maine, U.S., Nathan Hale Cemetery Collection, 1780-1980 for Frances Packard Appleton, Annis, George F-Austin, John B, Images 194 and 1035.

[5] "Obituary of Miss Frances Appleton Packard, dying at home of her brother, Charles" clip from Sun-Journal, Lewiston, Maine, 21 Jul 1902, Page 7; "Death notices" clip from Kennebec Journal, Augusta, Maine, 30 Jul 1902, Page 5; "William A. Packard is administrator of his sister's estate" clip from Kennebec Journal, Augusta, Maine, 05 Dec 1902, Page 2. She wasn't mentioned in her father's obituary in 1884 weirdly enough.

[6] She is mentioned as a lady visitor at the asylum on page 5 of this report. Also, the "Appleton-Aiken family papers (1806-1934)" Finding Aid put together by the University of Michigan Clements Library, she is listed as unmarried. Also see: "Frances visits the home" clip from Sun-Journal, Lewiston, Maine, 26 Feb 1898, Page 18; "Frances elected as a "lady visitor"" clip from The Lewiston Daily Sun, Lewiston, Maine, 08 Jan 1895, Page 6; "Passengers return from Liverpool" clip from Boston Evening Transcript, Boston, Massachusetts, 23 Sep 1899, Page 4. This article is about the other Frances: "Frances returns from a trip abroad" clip from Sun-Journal, Lewiston, Maine, 14 Oct 1899, Page 8. This Frances was covered in the newspaper more, as in 1901, it was noted that Florence Gallagher, Elise P. Packard, and Jessy L. McClellan, all women who seemed to be unmarried, were Frances' guests at the Mere Point House (see "Frances entertains guests at Mere Point House" clip from Sun-Journal, Lewiston, Maine, 20 Jul 1901, Page 12). It was also shown that this Frances had been to other parties at the house, including one sailed by a Mr. Packard (see "Frances presents a gift" clip from Sun-Journal, Lewiston, Maine, 02 Aug 1895, Page 8; "Opens cottage at Mere Point" clip in Sun-Journal, Lewiston, Maine, 25 Jun 1901, Page 3). This Frances also seemed to be supportive of temperance (see "Elected to temperance temple" clip in Sun-Journal, Lewiston, Maine, 15 Jan 1898, Page 6). This Frances purportedly crossed the Atlantic with Alpheus Jr. during his travels (see page 200 of T.D.A. Cockerwell's Biographical Memoir of Alpheus Spring Packard 1838-1905). She is also not to be confused with the daughter of William Alfred Packard (Frances E's brother) and Susan Breeze Gallagher also named Frances Appleton Packard (born c. 1865) who died at the age of 17 in October 1882.

[7] Twenty-Second Annual Report of the Military and Naval Asylum At Bath, ME. 1892 (Augusta: Burleigh & Flynt, 1892), 8.

[8] Alan Woods in his "The 7 Best Towns in Maine for LGBT Families" article recommends Augusta, Bangor, Bar Harbor, Brunswick, Ogunquit, Portland, and Rockland. Also see "Pride Maine LGBT History: Life and Activism in the 1970s, a panel discussion and exhibit", "Maine LGBT History: Life & Activism in the 70s. Part One", "LGBTQ+ History in Maine: A Documentary History Reader", "LGBT History in Maine 1856-1984", "Great Towns for LGBT Couples in Maine", "Bath library celebrates pride month, marks LGBTQ+ history in Maine".

[ofviolentdeath]

Pete's Verses

Beneath the cut are all current and planned verses for Pete. I might add more or even remove some that don't end up working out. This is under the cut for length

v: baby you're a haunted house (main-ghost)

Pete died in 1997, early into his 20’s, after a series of complications following a nasty case of pneumonia. It was one of those situations where every possible thing that could have gone wrong did, resulting in lung damage.

Not wanting to leave his family, his spirit refused to cross over.

v: in another life (reincarnated)

Following the main verse, Pete's spirit lingered for a couple of years before he decided to cross over and be reincarnated. In this verse, his legal name is Daniel King. He has no memories of Pete despite looking nearly the same (different scars being the main distinguishing physical difference), however, in the right circumstances, he could remember that life.

v: and pull us through (reincarnated, 2057 timeline)

Similar to the reincarnated verse but takes place in 2057 following the nuclear war. Pete is in between safe zones, mostly scavenging supplies and trying to make the best of things until he comes across the next safe zone. Special note: this verse is connected to @bleedtheneonfromthebitemarks and their character Doe.

v: I hope you miss me sometimes (Pete's former life)

This would be who he was prior to Pete. In this verse, his name was James Thompson and he was killed in an accident. Like Pete, he also died fairly young only he was fairly quickly reincarnated.

v: you are the moon that breaks (werewolf)

Following most of the main verse only he was bit by a werewolf in 1997 on a camping trip instead of getting pneumonia and dying. He had no idea what was happening to him until after the first few shifts. He is currently on his own but trying to make the best of what he is.

v: will you still kiss me the same (vampire)

This one follows the main verse a little more closely in that Pete does get sick and put on the transplant list but a member of the medical staff had taken a liking to him and knew a vampire. Pete was too out of it to make the choice for himself but it's not one he would have made. He tries his hardest to feed in purely ethical ways but he would have honestly preferred dying to becoming a vampire.

v: let me see you stripped down to the bone (witch/fae)

Unlike the other verses, Pete was never human to start with in this one. His mom was fae and his dad a witch. He was the product of a short fling and his dad never had the chance to find out about him before ended up in a secured medical facility. His mother swapped him for a human child when he was a few years old, so he doesn't really remember her. His human mother was great though and she had figured out pretty quickly what had happened but had chose to focus on the positives and doing her best to keep him alive despite the difficulties that being half fae brought about.

In this verse, he is Ajax's kid, making him the half brother of Dante and Myra and Brynnlie.