#does eye Flu spread by touch

[absfawn]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤnerd!abby x reader x ellie part 2 𝟏𝟖+ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤpart one

ㅤ “Now fuckin’ touch my girl like you mean it and make her cum”

Abby doesn’t remember how long she’s been between your thighs, all she can really focus on is the sound of your heavy breathes, your soft gasped moans, the squelching sound of your cunt and Ellie’s whispered praises against the plush of your tits.

“you’re doing so good, baby” your girlfriend chuckles, her tongue swirling around the hard bud of your nipple, teeth lightly scraping across it, tearing whimpers and quiet pleas from you.

One of your hands cupped the back of Ellie’s head as your back arches, and she greedily sucks on your nipple while your fingers slide through her hair, tugging harshly. Meanwhile, your other was gripping the Blonde’s hair tightly, hips bucking up into her mouth as she lazily sucks at your clit, humming into your cunt at the feeling of the grip you have on her hair “s’too much” you whine, legs tightening around Abby’s head.

“You can take it baby. Being such a good girl. Abby’s takin’ good care of you, ain’t she?”

The Blonde, who was still laying between your legs, lips wrapped around your clit and fingers working in and out of your sopping cunt, looks up at the mention of her name, glasses fogged up and eyes all doe. You can barely focus on her face, only her tongue and fingers but she can see you.

Seeing you completely naked between them while they were still fully clothed had her cheeks flushed. Having you pulling and gripping onto her hair for dear life had her whimpering pathetically into your cunt, the vibrations tearing whines and utter nonsense from your pretty lips. And having your hips stuttering against her mouth, trying to fuck yourself on both her tongue and fingers, had her going crazy.

“mhm… s’good Abs—fuck”

“startin’ to think Abby’s just as fuckin’ needy as you are, baby”

The statement from Ellie had you both a whimpering mess. Abby couldn’t deny her words because deep down she knew it was true and you? you knew she had a little crush on you and how you, most of the time caught her looking at you with that soft, shy smile, and how she would ask you if it was okay to study at the same table in the Library with you.

You could never say no to Abby.

A startled cry was pulled from you when Ellie slips her hand between your quivering thighs, groaning into your skin when she feels how wet you are against the pad of her fingers, her lips making a home on your neck as she litters kisses up and down, in slow actions. “you get so fuckin’ wet. s’ridiculous” she mutters, rubbing tight but slow circles on your clit. Abbys still fucking in and out of you, watching the way your cunt practically sucks her back in.

Your fingers grip onto Ellie’s hoodie, blabbering and whimpering into her neck while you try your hardest to form one correct sentence, but with the way your girlfriend was giving so much attention to your throbbing clit and how good Abby’s curled in your cunt, muttering small curses and praises, had you on cloud nine.

“made such a mess of my girl, you’ve now got her crying” Ellie coos, wiping the tears with her free hand, smirking down at your fucked out face. “feel good, huh? yeah, i bet you do”

Her mocking tone was more than enough to have you whimpering, pulling harder on her hoodie. “Els, please” you whine, legs threatening to close around Abbys head and Ellies hand.

“please what, baby?”

To them, you were such a sight. Legs spread beneath them, the glistening of your cunt, naked to their eyes only. Nipples pebbled from the cold air as well as all the attention from Ellies mouth. Abby could barely even form any words, or look up at your face because you took her fingers so well. She couldn’t look away. Your pussy was her new favourite thing.

“pussy takin’ me so well, pretty”

You whimpered at her words, and she had the balls to laugh when your walls tightened around her fingers at the praise. Ellie, on the other hand, smirked. Tapping your face, your eyes flutter and flicker to look up at her. “open your mouth, baby”

Never one to disobey her demands, you quickly open your mouth, and your heart thumps in your chest when she smiles and slips her fingers into your mouth, damn near whimpering at the feeling of your tongue brushing against the pads of her fingers.

“Abby”

“w-what?” The Blonde stutters, looking up at the Auburn, who was practically finger fucking your throat. She shivered, and eyebrows furrowed when Ellie gripped her free hand in hers, placing it on your lower stomach.

“she’s not as innocent as she looks, once you fill both her holes, she’s a dirty little slut” Ellie grins mischievously down at you, “fuck her harder”

It was like a flip had switched in Abby’s head hearing the obscene words. The once slow pace she had going was switched up to brutal one in mere seconds. Your eyes went wide, your thighs clamped around the Blonde’s hand and your moans were muffled by Ellie’s fingers shoved down your throat.

“there you go, baby”

If Abby thought you were beautiful when you smiled at her and laughed, then she sure as hell knows you are fucking ethereal now. Having you underneath her, gripping at her wrist, and trying to fuck yourself against her fingers was something she didn’t know she needed this badly before, until now. “Look so fuckin’ pretty like t-this..” she stutters, curling her fingers against the spots she knew now that had you clutching at the bedsheet with your free hand, still greedily sucking on Ellie’s fingers. 

You sure as hell were not going to last long. Not with how Abby was fucking you at such a relentless pace and how Ellie was rubbing at your clit.

Your girlfriend leaned her face closer to yours, pressing sloppy kisses to your jaw, chuckling at the way you whine and whimper around her spit-covered fingers. “Knew you were dirty, baby. Just had to have your best friend truly show me just how fuckin’ dirty you are, huh?” she whispers into your skin. “yeah, i know you love this”

Abby was quick to curl her fingers against the right spot inside you that had your back arching, almost choking on the fingers still in your mouth. Your hand tightened around Ellie’s wrist, the pace of her fingers rubbing circles on your clit matched Abby’s while your hips bucked up into them, and the tears ran down your face.

“You crying, baby?” Ellie cooed, again.

Nodding quickly, you looked up at Ellie with glossy eyes, feeling your orgasm creeping up on you. Tapping a finger on her wrist, she tsk’d before pulling them out your mouth, only to instantly grip your jaw between them. “m’gonna cum” you whimper. “please Abs, wanna cum”

“Do you think you deserve to?” was all she said, working her fingers faster. “Hm?”

She knew you were close. How could she not know with the way your walls gripped her fingers tighter, refusing to let her go anywhere. They were practically trapping her there. Chuckling under her breath, the Blonde adds a little pressure to your lower stomach, face heating up at the pornographic sounds of your cunt and soft whimpers and whines filling the room.

“Yes! I’ve been so good— so good for you— oh my god”

Her mouth was instantly back on your cunt without a single warning, fingers hitting that spongey spot inside you repeatedly, whereas Ellie had her lips wrapped your nipple again. Sucking, licking and even biting like her life depended on it. Your hips stuttered against Abby’s mouth, walls tightening around her fingers. “Abby m’gonna cum. please let me cum”

She just kept sucking at your clit, curling her fingers and abusing that little spot inside you. Glasses too fogged up to see you, but hearing the moans she was tearing from you was music to her ears. “cum in my mouth, please, want you to cum in my mouth” she whimpers out pathetically, tips of her ears red when Ellie chuckles.

“Both such little sluts, fuck” She mutters, letting go of your nipple with a ‘pop’ “be a good girl, baby. cum”

That was all you needed for your thighs to finally cage Abby’s head between your legs as you cum against her tongue and fingers with a silent yet choked moan as your back arches. The pace of her fingers slow down but they don’t stop, slowly fucking you through your orgasm, her tongue lapping up your cum and her own spit lazily.

“You did so good” Ellie murmurs into your neck making you hum, rubbing your hips when you whine quietly as Abby draws her fingers from you, instantly shoving them into her mouth, moaning at the taste of you, which catches the Auburns attention. “Greedy slut, huh?”

“n-no, just taste so good”

Pressing a kiss to your head, your eyes flicker open tiredly to find Ellie looking at you with a smile, “m’gonna run a bath for you, okay? clean you up a little then we can find something for you to eat”

“after you guys cuddle me”

[breadcat-xx]

@jegulus-microfic

27.06.2024 - heal - 484 words

Regulus rarely catches anything. He hasn’t had the flu in years and can’t remember the last time he fought a cold. His immune system hasn’t let him down in a long time… Or well, it hadn’t.

Having a toddler run around the house is all fun and games until they bring home a nasty bug. Harry got it from one of his classmates; a fever, a runny nose, a nasty cough. Luckily for him, he felt better in no time. A couple of days after he first showed symptoms, he was as good as new and was able to return to class. For a while, Regulus believed that was the end of it. His hopes were crushed when he woke up the next day with an itchy throat himself.

Unlike Harry, Regulus didn’t feel better the third day. It only worsened. At first, a pain potion was enough to get him through work, but by the end of the week he found himself tied to his bed. It was awful. The only things he could currently do were sleep and use up all of the tissues they had lying around the house.

He was in the middle of a nap when he was awoken by a gentle hand brushing back his hair.

“Reg?”

Regulus hums. His eyelids are heavy and at first he can’t be bothered to try to open them. The hand feels cool and pleasant against his clammy skin, so he leans into the touch.

“It’s time for your meds, love.”

Fingers combs through his curls with practiced ease, slowly but surely managing to wake him fully. When Regulus finally opens his eyes, James is looking down with a somewhat concerned expression. James worries a lot. He fusses over him. He makes sure he stays hydrated, brings him food, reminds him to take his medication. It makes Regulus feel oh so safe.

He sits up a little so he can take the glass of water and the pills James is offering to him. He takes his meds, gulps down the rest of the water and then lies back down. A grimace spreads across his face as he does so. Everything hurts.

“Do you need anything else?” James asks softly. His hand finds Regulus’ and squeezes it.

“A hug?”

It’s selfish, Regulus knows. He doesn’t want to get James sick too, but at the same time he yearns for the comfort only he can give to him. James doesn’t seem to mind. He leans down immediately, carefully pulling Regulus into a warm embrace.

“I’m so sorry, darling.” He whispers. “You’ll be better in no time, promise… Your body just needs a little longer to heal.”

Regulus nods. He knows it’s only a matter of time, yet he can’t help but long for the day he’ll be able to breathe through his nose again.

“What about we take a nap together?” James offers kindly. Regulus couldn’t say no to that even if he tried. Soon, they’re curled up under the sheets together, James’ fingers combing through his curls once more as he slowly drifts off to sleep.

The last thing Regulus thinks before he dozes off is that if he has to be sick anywhere in the world, his husband’s arms are probably the very best place.

[ladykailitha]

Not All That Glitters is Gold Part 3

Happy New Year to all those that celebrate on Jan 1st! I didn't get as much writing done as I wanted during my break because my son brought home the flu and I've been sick for most of the winter break.

That said, I still have a backlog of at least a dozen chapters spread out among my WIPs.

I will still be posting Sundays, Tuesdays, and Thursday just nothing will have a set day. Meaning you might get this story on a Tuesday one week, and Thursday the next. So on and so forth.

In this chapter I get heavily into gender dynamics and how sexuality would work with second genders.

Part 1 Part 2

***

Steve slid into bed with a sigh of relief. His scent permeated the bedding sending out a calming signal to both him and the alpha. He wrapped himself around the alpha and felt as he began to come out of the tranquilizer.

Dillon hummed happily. “You smell good.”

Steve chirped in response, rubbing his nose on Dillon’s scent gland. Again he sighed in relief. The actor’s scent was coming through. Weakly, but it was there. It was a dark woody scent. Like a forest after the rain.

“I’m going to take care of you, alpha,” Steve purred. “Make you feel so good.”

Dillon pounced on him and he laughed. “So eager. Take it slow, you’ve got plenty of time, sweetie.”

Steve ran his fingers up and down Dillon’s spine, causing the man to arch into his touch.

“Does that feel good?”

Dillon nodded, biting his lip.

“You don’t have to keep quiet, alpha,” Steve murmured. “No one is here to hear you but me.”

Dillon hung his head. “You don’t mind if make noise?”

Steve kissed his nose. “Did they make you keep quiet when they forced you to have sex with other alphas?”

He nodded, tears streaming down his face.

“Don’t worry,” Steve said. “You’re safe here. No one knows this address outside of Starcourt Services.”

Dillon closed his eyes and let Steve take care of him.

Over the course of the next three days, Steve found out that Dillon’s guilty pleasure was fruit leather. Not the overly processed kids stuff, but the locally sourced fruit snacks.

Steve practically cheered. It wasn’t protein bars, but it was something. He also found that Dillon would drink the shakes if Steve gave them to him, but wouldn’t chose them on his own.

By the time Dillon’s rut was over, Steve had really gotten to know him and was a little sad to see him go.

He wasn’t even told where Dillon would be going, but he knew it was for the best.

Steve showered and was dressed before Robin came back.

“Thankfully his rut didn’t last too long,” she said pulling up his schedule on his tablet, “you’ll have two days to do whatever before the charity ball for the New Yorker.”

Steve sighed in relief. “Thank god for that. First ruts are so hard.”

Robin nodded. “And it’s so rare for Starcourt to do them at all with the whole legality of it usually being alpha usually being fourteen to seventeen years old when they get their first.”

Steve sighed. “That too.”

Robin got a notification on her phone. When she checked it, she laughed.

“I just got something to absolutely make your day,” she said with a giggle.

Steve raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Tommy’s last rut servicing hit him with a mini-heat. He’s out of the game for the gala.”

Steve winced in sympathy. “Better him than me.”

Robin laughed again. “That’s why you have me, babe. If the alpha has a history of blocker breaking, they have to do a lot to convince me to let you service them. Starcourt has a perfect record of whisking away omegas that have gone into a heat as a side effect of the servicing, but I’m not willing to take that chance with you.”

“And that’s why all the other omegas are jealous you’re my handler,” Steve grinned.

“Damn straight.”

They high-fived.

“So what are your plans for today?” Robin asked, putting away her phone.

“Pedro is coming in today for a final fitting for the tux,” he told her and she added it to his schedule.

“I’ll find out the exact time and get back to you,” she said.

“Then I’m having dinner with Max and Lucas,” Steve continued. “They just got into town this morning and wanted to meet up while they had time.”

“How goes Lucas’s law suit?” Robin asked, adding it to the schedule.

“They think it’s about to burst the NBA wide open,” Steve said with a devilish grin.

She grinned back. “It’s absolutely ridiculous to have six different sports leagues.”

Steve nodded. “Even the division between beta teams is dumb. But they’re working on one problem at a time. Get it down to two and then work on destroying first gender bullshittery.”

Robin nodded. “It’s especially stupid because that’s how it is handled in high school. If schools can handle the raging hormones of presenting athletes then professional teams can handle level headed adults on scent suppressants.”

Steve nodded back. “That’s their argument.”

“Good luck to them.”

“And then I plan on doing some shopping,” Steve finished. “Dillon’s rut depleted my stock more than I would have liked.”

Robin winched. “Well, at least your next servicing isn’t until the end of next week.”

He nodded again. “I’ve been messaging the alpha couple, they seem sweet.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “I am so grateful to be a lesbian to first and secondary genders.”

“There are so many sexualities these days it can make one’s head spin,” he lamented. “Are you an alpha that likes alphas but only alphas of the opposite sex and does that make you straight or gay?”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I simplified it to ‘no dicks’, but I know it’s more nuanced than that for a lot of people.”

Steve scoffed. “Like me?” he huffed, flopping on the sofa and crossing his arms. “Bisexual first gender, but I’ve never been attracted to other omegas, so straight secondary gender. And there are a lot of people that would say I’m not queer because I prefer alphas.”

“Yeah,” Robin said. “And I swear it’s getting worse with non-binary and trans people added to the mix, too. And of course the rest of the queer community is thinking they’re safe from the hoopla, when we all know these ass clowns won’t be happy until they’re back to one man and one woman betas.”

“Which has never been a thing,” Steve grumbled. “It’s ridiculous.”

She tapped her tablet. “Anything else?”

He shook his head. “Just when Pedro is coming and my day is set.”

She shot off a quick text and got an immediate response. “He says at eleven. Is that okay?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, that’ll be fine. Gives me time to shop before dinner.”

“Done and dusted,” she said, putting away her phone and tablet. “We still on for platonic soulmate day tomorrow?”

He grinned up at her. “Always. We’re going to binge movies and eat junk food and lament about our love lives all day.”

“I’ll bring over some wine coolers and stuff to make cocktails,” she said.

He hopped up and gave her kiss on the cheek. “See you tomorrow.”

“Have fun with Max and Lucas,” Robin said. “Give them my love.”

“Will do.”

*

Max looked around the fancy restaurant in awe. “I can’t believe you can just walk into a place like this and you instantly get a table.”

Steve barked out a laugh. “It’s not that easy. They had a cancellation and was able to get us in.”

“I bet they canceled the other reservation to give it to you,” Lucas said.

“Ooh...” Max said. “I bet they did, too. Steve Harrington, omega escort to the stars wants a dinner reservation at our restaurant, lets boot some D-list actor so we can have him instead.”

Steve laughed again. “Really, guys. It’s not like that. I’m not some Lonnie Hansen or Roxie, I’m barely a middle of the road escort as far as how much money I make.”

Max and Lucas shared a glance before they broke out laughing.

“Guys!” Steve protested. “I’m serious. There are other escorts that make way more than me.”

Max raised her eyebrow. “Name five other than Lonnie and Roxie.”

Steve counted them out on his fingers. “There’s Nicole Jawara. Koo Sing Ma. Mirabel Diaz. Uh...” He tapped his third finger. “Um...”

“Admit it,” Lucas said. “You can’t think of any more. And the ones you have named? They’ve all been in the business for longer than you and have had time to be higher paid. You rose through the ranks like a shooting star and everyone knows it.”

Steve blushed. “Yeah, okay. I love doing what I do, though.”

“Which is why we’re fighting the NBA about Lucas’s secondary gender. He should be allowed to play in the national league regardless whether he’s an omega or not,” Max said. “As an alpha I can do whatever the hell I want and only mildly looked down on because I’m a woman. But being a male omega makes it hard to do anything outside nurturing jobs.”

“Which I’ve never got,” Steve growled. “They don’t force female omegas into those jobs, just male ones.”

Lucas sighed. “Add to it being black and I’ve been fighting an uphill battle my whole life.”

Steve nodded sympathetically. “Tell me what else is up with you two. Any chance of bonding on the horizon.”

Max scoffed. “As if. We want to get this suit over with first. Then we’ll talk.”

“What about you?” Lucas asked. “Surely there have been alphas that have offered to buy your contract. You could settle down with one. Adopt pups.”

Steve ducked his head. “I’ve had offers. But as...” he huffed trying to find the right word. “Concubines? Sex toys for when their mates are pregnant or nursing. Not actual relationships.”

Max snorted. “I bet Nancy Wheeler tried.”

“Twice,” Steve agreed. “The only thing that would lure me from my job is falling in love with an alpha. And the chances of that happening are slim to none right now.”

Lucas sighed. “It’s because anyone you do meet is just going to want sex, huh?”

Steve nodded. “It’s really frustrating. But that’s why most of my friends are from before I became an escort. It’s just too hard to trust someone now a days. People wanting to be friends only want it for the perks,” he waved around him, “and not because they actually like me. People who want a ‘romantic’ relationship are one of three categories: only in for the sex. Only in for the sex and all the perks that come with being me. Or they want to shame and control me.”

Max and Lucas share a glance and have the decency to look mildly chastised. Because, yeah they used the perks of Steve’s job on more than one occasion.

Steve sighed. “So have you guys seen the latest superhero movie?” he asked, eager to move on.

Max and Lucas took it as the life line it was and starting chatting about what movies they’ve seen.

*

Steve loved his days were it was just him and Robin sans Starcourt business. Where they could just be two lovable goofballs and talk about their love life.

“Vickie is an omega, Steve,” she whined, ripping into her gallon sized bucket of Red Vines. “She’s not going to want to be with someone who can’t help her during her heats.”

Steve scoffed. “I’ve never had an alpha service my heats, and I’m fine. If she cares about you, she’ll use toys and heat aids. And don’t discount the pleasure of your fingers, babe.”

Robin made a gagging sound. “Don’t talk to me about sex, dingus. I don’t think I can handle it.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “It’s literally my job, Robs. Like you can blow me off all you want, but you know you’re not going to get better advice from someone outside the medical field.”

“I hate it when you’re right,” she sighed.

“So you’ll ask her out this weekend?” Steve pressed.

“Yes, Steve,” Robin said, rolling her eyes “while you’re out there looking gorgeous on the arm of Nancy Wheeler, schmoozing it up with the rich people, I will be putting my heart on the line to ask a really cute girl out on a date.”

He kissed her cheek and stayed in her space. “And then when she says yes and you two are making out on her sofa, spare a thought for your poor single platonic soulmate who was soooo right.”

Robin pushed him away from her. “God, you are such an ass.”

“Yes, but it has been praised by many an alpha,” he teased, “so I love flaunting it.”

Robin threw her Red Vine at him.

He took a huge bite out of it and then grimaced. “I don’t’ know how you can stand eating these things. I think they taste like soap.”

“Just because your tastebuds are out of wack,” Robin said, snatching it away from him and munching on it, “doesn’t mean the rest of us should be forced to eat those tasteless sticks called Twizzlers.”

Steve pouted. “But I like the chocolate ones.”

“Further proof of your lack of taste, dingus,” she said. “It just means that this,” she held up her bucket, “is all mine.”

He just shook his head and grabbed the remote. “It’s a vampire romance, you ready for this?”

“Hell yeah!”

***

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

The Red Vine vs Twizzler debate was something that me and my best friend argued for years. And yes there was a period of time when Red Vines tasted like soap. They don't anymore, thankfully. But they did.

The TV show they are watching is "The Scholar That Walks By Night" a Korean drama my sister is obsessed with.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @lexirosewrites @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @yikes-a-bee @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @irregular-child @nburkhardt @apomaro-mellow @yellowdevilkitten @lingeringmirth @rememberthatiloveyou @demolvr @ellietheasexylibrarian @slowandsteddie @mangoinacan13

[madamepestilence]

H5N1: What to know before fear spreads

What is H5N1?

H5N1 is a 1996 strain of the Spanish or Avian Flu first detected in Chinese birds before spreading globally across various avian species. H5N1 is similar to H1N1, but spreads slower and has a much higher mortality rate.

H5N1 may also be referred to as Influenza A. The American Association of Bovine Practitioners has seen fit to rename H5N1 to Bovine Influenza A Virus, or BIAV, and are encouraging others to use the same terminology.

I would not be surprised if the colloquial name among the public becomes Bovine Flu or American Flu in the coming months, and may be referred to as the Chinese Flu by the same folks who took the spark of the SARS-CoV-2 (COVID-19) pandemic as an excuse to be publicly racist to East Asian people without social repercussions.

BIAV is a virus, meaning that it is a (probably) non-living packet of self-replicating infectious material with a high rate of mutation. BIAV is structured similarly to SARS-CoV-2, having a packet of infectious material encased in a spherical shell with a corona, or crown, of proteins that can latch to living cells to inject RNA.

Image source with interactive model: ViralZone - H5N1 subtype

What is the history of BIAV?

In 1996 and 1997, an outbreak of BIAV occurred among poultry and infected 18 people in Hong Kong, 6 of which died. This seemingly isolated incident then infected ~860 people with a >50% death rate.

At the time, BIAV was known as Highly Pathogenic Avian Influenza, or HPAI, and killed nearly 100% of chickens within a 48 hour period.

From 2003 to 2005, continual outbreaks occurred in China and other East Asian countries, before spreading to Cambodia, the Netherlands, Thailand, and Vietnam.

From 2014 to 2016, it began being detected in American fowl, as well as mutating the H5N6 (lethal in birds, no human to human transmission) and H5N8 (largely spread through turkeys, ducks had immunity) viruses.

BIAV has since evolved into a clade known as 2.3.4.4b, and was first detected in 2021 in wild American birds. This then caused outbreaks in 2022 among wild and domesticated birds (such as chickens) alike, but was largely being overshadowed by the pressing SARS-CoV-2 pandemic at the time.

From 2022 to 2023, it was observed to be spreading among various mammals, including humans. Now, in 2024, we're having the most concerning rapid outbreak of BIAV since 2003.

BIAV is known to spread from mammal to mammal, particularly between cows and humans. BIAV may also be spread from cow to cow (highly likely, but not confirmed - this is likely the reason the virus has spread to Idaho from Texan cattle), and is known to be lethal to domestic cats and birds within 48 hours.

How does BIAV spread?

BIAV spreads through fomites - direct contact with infected animals or infected surfaces and then touching parts of your face or other orifices - as well as through airborne particulates, which may be inhaled and enter the sinuses and lungs.

BIAV is known to spread through:

Asymptomatic Ducks, geese, swans, various shorebirds

Symptomatic, may be lethal Foxes, bears, seals, sea lions, polar bears, domestic cats, dogs, minks, goats, cows, (potentially human to human, but unconfirmed - there have only been 8 potential human to human cases in 2024).

How can I protect against BIAV?

As BIAV is a type of Influenza A, existing protocols should do fine.

Current recommendations are to wash your hands vigorously after interacting with birds (I would also recommend doing this with mammals), avoid touching your face or other open orifices, and wear N95 masks.

Avoid sick or dead animals entirely - I would also recommend reporting them to your local Animal Control or veterinary centre and warning them about the infection risk. People who work with animals are recommended to also wear full PPE such as N95 masks, eye protection, gloves, and partake in vigorous hand washing.

If you suspect you've caught BIAV, seek medical attention immediately. Existing medications such as oseltamivir phosphate, zanamivir, peramivir, and baloxavir marboxil can reduce BIAV's ability to replicate.

Standard flu shots will not protect against BIAV. Remember - symptoms of BIAV may not manifest for between 2 to 8 days, and potentially infected people should be monitored for at least 10 days.

How far has BIAV spread?

BIAV is currently a global virus, though the current infection location of note is the United States.

Image Key: Dark red - Countries with humans, poultry and wild birds killed by H5N1 Deep red - Countries with poultry or wild birds killed by H5N1 and has reported human cases of H5N1 Light red - Countries with poultry or wild birds killed by H5N1

Image source: Wikipedia - Influenza A virus subtype H5N1 - File: Global spread of H5N1 map

Image source: Metro.co.uk - Map shows where bird flu is spreading in US amid new warning - File: The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s H5N1 bird flu detections map across the United States

Should I be afraid?

You needn't be afraid, just prepared. BIAV has a concerningly high lethality, but this ironically culls its spread somewhat.

In the event human to human transmission of BIAV is confirmed, this will likely mainly affect marginalized communities, poor people, and homeless people, who are likely to have less access to medical care, and a higher likelihood of working in jobs that require frequent close human contact, such as fast food or retail jobs.

Given the response to SARS-CoV-2, corporations - and probably the government - may shove a proper response under the rug and refuse to participate in a full quarantine, which may leave people forced to go to work in dangerous conditions.

If this does spread into an epidemic or pandemic, given our extensive knowledge about Influenza, and the US having a backup vaccine for a prior strain of H5N1, a vaccine should be able to be developed relatively quickly and would hopefully be deployed freely without charge - we won't have to worry about a situation like The Stand.

Wash your hands, keep clean, avoid large social gatherings where possible, wear an N95 mask if you can afford them (Remember: Cloth masks are the least protective, but are better than nothing. If you can't afford N95 masks, I recommend wearing a well-fitted cloth mask with a disposable face mask over it to prevent pneumonia from moisture buildup in the disposable mask), support the disabled, poor, and homeless, and stay educated.

We can do better this time.

Further things to check out:

YouTube: MedCram - H5N1 Cattle Outbreak: Background and Currently Known Facts (ft. Roger Seheult, M.D.)

Wikipedia - Influenza A virus subtype H5N1

Maine.gov - Avian Influenza and People

CDC.gov - Technical Report: Highly Pathogenic Avian Influenza A(H5N1) Viruses

Wikipedia - H5N1 genetic structure

realagriculture - Influenza infection in cattle gets new name: Bovine Influenza A Virus (BIAV)

[jennay]

Sick and Tired

Rory Culkin x Reader

Master List

Idea: Reader is sick and Rory does what he can to make reader feel better. Hope you enjoy feel free to share. 💜

Word count: 1000ish

No warnings

This Gif is my favorite 😍

Rory tip-toes down the corridor, careful not to make the wooden floors creak as he walks toward the bedroom to check on you. He was surprised you'd slept as long as you have, this flu was kicking your ass, and he hated he couldn't make it go away. He knows how much you hate being sick and how it makes you feel weak and miserable, and he wishes he could do something to cheer you up or at least relieve the pain.

Rory gently pushes the cracked door open and peaks his head through the opening. Sympathetic blue eyes land on you, and he feels helpless when he sees you curled in a ball with blankets pulled over your body, your hair spread across the pillows, and your mouth slightly hung open from being unable to breathe through your nose. He can hear your raspy breathing and the occasional sniffle and wonders if you have a fever.

The room feels warm and stuffy, and Rory finds it hard to breathe in there. He quietly walks over to the window, cracking it open just enough to get a nice breeze but not enough to make you cold. He hopes the fresh air will help you feel better or at least clear your sinuses a bit.

He looks around the room, noticing the tissues scattered on the nightstand, the empty glass of water, and the medicine bottle. He decides to get you some more water and clean up the tissues making sure not to touch the dirty parts. He smiles softly as he sees your favorite stuffed animal tucked under your arm, a gift from him on your last birthday.

He sits beside you, brushing the strands of hair off of your face. Rory rests his palm on your forehead to gauge if you are getting better or worse. He feels a slight warmth on your skin, but not as hot as before. He sighs in relief, hoping that means you're recovering. He leans down and kisses your cheek gently, whispering, "Hey, sweetheart, how are you feeling?"

You stir at his touch, feeling nauseous as you open your eyes. You see his concerned face hovering over you, and you try to smile weakly.

You croak out "Hi." in a hoarse voice, feeling a dryness in your throat. You reach for the glass of water, but Rory beats you to it and helps lift your head slightly to sip some water, careful not to spill it on the bed. You thank him with a grateful look, feeling a bit more refreshed. You ask him, “How long have I been asleep?”

“Somewhere around 12 hours. I kept checking on you to make sure you were still breathing.” He teases. “I had to send Doctor Peach in a few times.” He says, referring to his cat. “She said you’re gonna be ok.”

You weakly smile, closing your eyes. “Doctor Peach knows everything. I trust her judgment.”

He chuckles, stroking your hair. “Yeah, she’s a very smart cat. She also said you need to take your medicine, eat some soup, and watch some Netflix with me.”

You open your eyes again, looking at him suspiciously. “I don’t believe you?”

He nods solemnly, trying to keep a straight face. “She did. She even wrote it down for me.” He pulls a piece of paper from his pocket with a scribbled note saying, “Doctor Peach’s prescription: medicine, soup, Netflix -Meow.”

You laugh, despite the pain in your chest. He smiles, happy to see you in a better mood.

He leans down and kisses your nose gently. “See? Doctor Peach is always right.”

"I doubt you want to sit in this room with me, and I don't want to get you sick."

Rory shrugs as he makes his way to the other side of the bed and crawls under the blankets. "It's ok, I'll be ok." He confidently says.

You can't tell if he's trying to convince you or himself. He scoots closer to you and opens his arms, signaling for you to come closer to him, but you're hesitant. "You're going to be so mad when you get sick." You snuggle into his side, allowing him to hold you. Your body relaxes under his touch.

"I'm not worried. Peach can handle it." He jokes, pointing to the cat on the edge of the mattress. You laugh weakly, too tired from the flu to argue.

"Can you put on a movie? I can’t handle this anymore." You say.

Rory does as he’s told and throws the Simpsons on. He strokes your arm and whispers sweet nothings in your ear, feeling lucky to have him by your side.

He kisses your hair gently, whispering, “I love you.”

"You won't when you're sick." You joke. “Trust me. I hate whoever gave me this like if I knew who it was, I’d show up at their house and kick the front door in.” You laugh. “It’s bullshit.”

“I can handle my own.” He reminds you. “Besides, when was the last time I got sick?”

You roll your eyes. “Last week, when you ate expired yogurt and spent the whole night in the bathroom.” You remind him.

He groans and covers his face with his hand. “Don’t bring that up. That was a nightmare.” He says.

You giggle. “Well, at least you have a good immune system.”

“A good immune system, a good life, a good girlfriend. I’m living most people’s dream.” He sweetly speaks. “Don’t you dare try to say something bad about yourself.” He says, reading your mind. “I’m not having it.”

Your body tense, “I wasn’t.” You lie. “I’m perfect. Even with snot dripping out of my nose.”

He smiles and pulls you closer to him. “Exactly, You’re perfect. Even with snot dripping out of your nose.”

You blush and feel a wave of warmth in your chest. “You’re too good to me.”

“You’re worth every second of it, and I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep proving it to you.”

[thebluestbluewords]

Spiraling

TW for anxiety/OCD-like thoughts. This one is completely self-indulgent. Carlos-centric, because I like it when my badass characters also have brains that are a little bit broken. +

The stupid thing is that there's no trigger. 

It's just. 

Everything. All at once. All the time. There's math class, which Carlos loves fiercely and completely, only today his usual teacher Mr. Gemble is out sick. Which would be fine. People in Auradon get sick all the time, and then they get better, and there's nothing to worry about, except-- 

Except for how sometimes people get sick and they don't come back. Sometimes a little flu turns into something worse, and it means fluid in his lungs and long term damage from the smoke and need to start an antibiotic course right away and if I thought it would get used I'd send them home, but with that family-- 

There's nothing to worry about. People in Auradon get sick, and then they go to a doctor, and they get better. Simple. A dependency. Mr. Gemble is out sick so that he can go to a doctor, and he'll get the treatment he needs, and he'll be back in school once he's feeling better. 

He's going to get better. 

The sickness isn't going to spread. 

Viral infection and endemic and need a higher sample to provide effective inoculation. 

But they're not on the Isle of the Lost anymore, and everyone at Auradon Prep has a course of vaccinations before they come into the school for the first time, and the only exceptions are them, and it's not like Carlos is that close with his math teacher. Not like he could be the vector, bringing whatever illness took out a teacher, an adult, a man who's always seemed strong and healthy and whole, back to his crew. 

He's not-- 

There's nothing to worry about. 

So he sits in his usual seat. Middle of the class, Evie at his back, both of them against the wall, door directly in their line of sight. He pulls out his notebook and his pencil that appeared in his room one day, and he does not burn them because they were contaminated. Nothing could be done. No disinfectant can get out the spores-- 

He takes notes. Doesn't touch his face. Eyes, nose, mouth. Clear. He'll wash his hands after class. His bag is contaminated now, if the notebook was inside it, but he can take everything out later, if he brings it in the shower, he can take everything out and wash it clean, and he'll run the ultrasonic bath for the metal pieces, he can use the key to get into the lab and borrow the enclave, and don't touch your face, that's how it spreads. 

Carlos lowers his hand. 

The movement looks like he's raising his hand. He knows with the rational part of his brain, which is why the substitute teacher Mrs. Sidney calls on him, because she saw his hand move and she's young, and her voice is high-pitched and a little bit sharp because she gets nervous around the four of them, because she's a good Auradon teacher, a nice young teacher, and-- 

He doesn't even know what the question was. 

She called on him because she's a nice Auradon girl fresh out of teaching school, and she's scared of his crew but she's trying not to show it, she's trying to take care to treat them equally and bring them out of their shells, and she doesn't know, she doesn't know. 

She doesn't know that Carlos isn't supposed to talk in class, because letting people know how much he knows is dangerous and he's small but he's fast and he's smart and he doesn't want to be tapped as a henchman for one of the adults, so he will keep quiet and slip out of school before anyone can catch up to him and he'll stay quiet in class and maybe answer one question a day, because that's a normal amount, that won't stick out, and even if he gets them all correct it won't matter if he's only getting one or two things right. That's a normal amount. He's normal. Nothing special, nothing worth noticing. 

There's nothing to worry about. 

He stutters out a non-answer. Stupid, stupid. He's got to pay better attention. 

"I don't know," he says, and it's the truth, but he doesn't know-- 

It's not safe to be too clever, but it's also not safe to be stupid, and Mrs. Sidney sighs like she's disappointed in him, and there's nothing he can do to play back the question and make it make sense, so he just ducks his head down and keeps his hands on his desk and doesn't move them again, and-- 

It's not safe to draw attention to himself, so he won't. He'll draw away and inside himself, and he can't feel shame if he can't feel his body, but he needs to stay aware of his hands so he doesn't touch his face and contaminate everything, so he can't retreat all the way. 

So. That's one thing. 

The bell rings. 

The bell rings, and Evie's getting her things together behind him, and Carlos needs to move, because everyone is moving, because passing periods are short and staying still isn't keeping him safe anymore, so he moves at automatic speed through the motions, pencil tucked in his shorts pocket, wash his clothes later, and notebook in his bag, don't touch your face, and textbook shoved in behind them. His bag goes over his shoulder. Don't flinch. His free hand goes in his hoodie pocket, so he can tap the handle of the knife he's got tucked there, small and close and safe. 

His shoulder throbs. 

That's another thing. He's got something fucked up about his right shoulder, something small and hot that burns down his arm through his elbow every time he picks up his bag and shoulders the weight of it. He's not allowed to check the anatomy textbooks out from the library because they're restricted to only people taking the A&P courses this semester. Idiot boy doesn't know what he's reading, he just likes the pictures. But. He's pretty sure that his shoulder isn't supposed to burn, and even flipping through the whole thing in the library, because people are always watching the Isle freaks and he can't linger on any one illustration for too long and reveal a potential weakness, he can guess that there's some sort of nerve damage. A pinch or a twist or something that can't be fixed except with rest and time and general good health. 

Chronic pain, the clinic doctor said. Bone shards. Too small to be worth operating on, not with this level of healing already. 

The barrier is a curse. 

"Gods," Evie says, and Carlos does not jump. "I'm starving today. D'you think they'll have the croissant sandwiches at lunch?" 

don't eat that. it's not safe. give it to mama. 

Carlos forces his face into a smile, because Evie loves croissants, loves flaky bread and soft pastry, loves them loves them loves them loves them. "Probably. If they don't have them out you can ask Janelle in the kitchen to get one for you." 

Evie sighs as she shoulders her bag, and Carlos is watching her face so he sees when there's no wince as the weight hits her shoulder, and Evie's bag is even heavier than his, so it's stupid that he's the one dealing with pain, but he's always been—

He's not weak. 

"Janelle's so sweet," Evie says dreamily. "I asked her for the recipe of that avocado dressing last week, you know the one, with the poppy seeds in it?" 

"Yeah." 

"She just gave it to me. Printed off the cutest little recipe card and everything. She said they have a school cookbook that they print out for all the seventh graders in the cooking elective, and she'll make an extra copy for me the next time they run it by the printers." Evie's hands flutter like little butterflies to follow the words, bright and slim like the printer paper that Carlos knows how to feed into the industrial size printers they use for the school paper. He could hack into the school computers and print off a recipe book for Evie. He can run the printer and the laminator and the spiral binding machine that Jordan uses to archive copies of the school newspaper. "She's so nice." 

Evie's got a crush. 

Highly contagious. Spreads through shared food and drink. 

Evie's crush works in the kitchens. Where everyone comes through. Where there's a lot of shared food and drink, and buffet lines where it's easy to sneeze on the silverware cups, and—

Carlos needs to wash his hands. He needs Evie to wash her hands, but he can't touch her, because he's already contaminated and she might not be yet, she doesn't sit as close to the front as he does, so he can't touch her but they both need to wash their hands right-fucking-now, and he can't touch her to ask. 

Also because he’s— he’s being irrational. And Evie can’t be as dirty as he is anyway, because she’s Evie and she’s perfect and her hands are cool and pale and clean, and he can’t ask but he needs her to wash her fucking hands. 

Um," he manages. "Yeah. She's cool. I have to—“ he jerks his head towards the boy's bathroom. 

Evie nods. Waves a slim, graceful hand. "Go. I'll do the same. We can regroup after next period. Your class isn't doing testing this week, right?" 

Carlos has his English class next period. Woodland lit. Evie's in a different English class, but he's got— somebody. 

Jay. 

He's in the same English class as Jay, which means if there's testing he has to sit in the middle of the room, so that he can leave his left side open for Jay to read off his answers, not because he's stupid, but because he can't read fast enough to keep up. They've got a system. Carlos goes through the multiple choice section first, and then flips over to the short answer portion, and that's Jay's signal to stop where he's reading and flip back to multiple choice so that Carlos can go over his answers again, but slowly, dragging his pencil down the page as he really truly thinks about every answer. And if he just so happens to leave his left side open, so that maybe someone a little bit taller can see which bubble he's blacked in and which one's he's marked as not it, that's just a coincidence. Just like it's a coincidence that he and Jay rotate who gets to sit by the window and who sits in the middle of the classroom every few days. They're keeping things fresh. If they rotate seats themselves, the teachers won't rotate the seating for them. 

He dredges the class schedule up from the depths of a mind that feels syrupy-slow and very, very far away. "Nah. No testing this week. We're doing a discussion unit on poetry." 

Evie flashes him a perfect little smile. "Have fun with that. I'll see you at lunch?" 

wash your hands, Carlos thinks, and doesn't say, because he's aware that he's not thinking correctly right now. 

"See you at lunch." he echoes. “Bye, Evie.” 

He washes his hands. 

The pencil in his pocket is dirty too. He washes it. 

His pocket is dirty—

He can't get clean here. He's got to be normal, stay invisible, get to class so he can talk about poetry from three hundred years ago and listen to Jay making fun of Audrey under his breath, and stop washing his hands before the skin starts to go red and hot and raw under the water. He's got to stop. 

There's nothing to worry about. 

Okay, Carlos tells himself. This is Auradon. Nothing really bad happens here. 

But that's not true, because Mr. Gemble is out sick, and he could spread it. Carlos messed up a question today, and Mrs. Sidney could use that as proof that he's not smart enough to be here, that he should be sent back—

he's not being sent back to the Isle. 

Ben wouldn't let him be sent back. Because they're friends. 

Carlos's shoulder throbs. 

Class. Class, then he can run back to the room and change his clothes before lunch, and-- and Evie wants to check in at lunch, because he doesn't make mistakes, and she's got to know he's having a bad day, and if he doesn't show up for lunch she'll freak out. So he can't change. Or touch anything, because he's contaminated and—

Okay. 

This is a spiral, a bad one. He's going to class, because that's what he does. He's not going to spiral, because that's not what people do here. Kids in Auradon go to Kids in Auradon go to class, and they sit still-but-not-too-still, and they answer questions when they're asked, and Carlos can do all of those things. He likes class. He likes learning, and he likes hearing Jay make fun of the girls who write dramatic poetry about how their boyfriends broke up with them and he knows how to pretend that he's an Auradon kid who's nice and sweet and not a disease vector with broken lungs who's going to get them all sent back to the isle. 

He's fine. 

Nothing to worry about. 

Nothing is wrong. Nothing is wrong. Nothing's wrong. 

Just. 

Class. 

Yeah. 

He can go to class. 

Door. Elbow. Don't touch. Don't leave fingerprints. He's not— he's allowed to be here, but if he leaves fingerprints it'll be bad, because he's not allowed to touch the nice things unless he's cleaning them. His hands are always greasy. He can't afford to spend the extra time cleaning off his fingerprints, so he won't touch. 

He's allowed to touch. 

This is a spiral. It's not real. He's not— 

His shoulder hurts. 

His bag is slipping down his shoulder, so he lifts his arm to push it back up, and the pain spikes worse than before. Stabbing. Like hot needles all the way down the length of his arm. Shoulder to elbow to fingertips. It hurts, and that's the last thing he can handle. 

There's a thing, that happens sometimes, when his body hurts and his brain is spiraling and everything is too-much-all-at-once. A thing where Carlos puts his body on autopilot. Automatic functions can continue operation without him. He can—

He can leave. He'll get to class, and get through the day, and then when things are safe later, when he can curl up small-and-safe-and-hidden in the closet in Evie's room where she keeps her designs-in-progress, he can deal with everything.

[okdeedee]

lay down your head

a very small din djarin x gn! reader sickfic . reader,,, works with mando? is hired by him? live-in employee. idk. the razor crest still exists. handwavey in terms of chronology.

__

an: because i have a shitty cold / fever / idk right now. so i daydream about how din djarin would take care of someone. me. us. whatever.

warnings: fluff. the mortifying ideal of being vulnerable with your colleagues/friends/crushes. no use of pronouns other than "you/your" and no y/n.

feat. trying to debunk the theory that being in the rain/being in somewhat cold weather will make you sick, one fic at a time. (hypothermia is real, catching a cold/the flu from being in the cold is not.)

wc: 1.3k words of 11pm feverish delirium.

__

It starts as a funny feeling behind your nose. As the day goes on, it spreads down to the back of your throat. Then there's the melancholy dawn of a dull headache and your joints start to hurt more than they usually do.

You're helping Mando carry a bounty back to the Crest at around three in the morning, Coruscant time, and suddenly it's ridiculously difficult.

The bounty is a fairly waiflike Twi'lek, so you're not sure why you're struggling. He could carry her on his own, sure, but you've watched him move enough that you can tell he's got back problems, so you try to help him carry heavy or awkwardly shaped things.

This Twi'lek in her hoop-skirted Opera-Concert-Goer finery definitely counts as the latter.

You watch him a lot.

The way he moves, how he interacts with his child, his prowess in combat. His proficiency with weapons gets you hot under the collar, sometimes.

But he's gruff and quite reserved, and you've taught yourself not to expect anything from this arrangement the two of you have. You haven't touched him before - not even to shake his hand.

When you trip over your own feet and the bounty goes lurching toward the floor, the Mandalorian pauses and glances at you with what you think might be annoyance.

But you can't see his face, obviously, and you sort of can't see full-stop in this dark alley, so it's anyone's guess.

By the time you get back to the Crest, your eyes burn with the effort of keeping them open. You don't want to be a liability, so you keep your head straight and you don't show any sign of weakness.

Once the bounty is frozen in carbonite, Mando climbs up the ladder, Grogu gurgling happily in his satchel. He doesn't seem to have noticed anything's really wrong with you, which is a relief. As soon as his boots disappear into the cockpit, you slump down to the floor.

Mando doesn't need a co-pilot - you're often down here during take-off anyway, tidying or putting your weapons away.

You value your alone time as much as he does, which is nice. He never pries when you need some time away from him and his little green kid.

You ache all over and you're shivering, but at least he can't see you. You're so tired that you fall asleep with your head resting against the weapon cupboard's door.

.

After he gets the Crest out of Coruscant's atmosphere and into hyperspace, Din lets Grogu play with a very small selection of the control panel that will not have drastic effects on the ship.

It takes a while, but the child's movements grow lethargic, and soon enough, he's asleep in Din's arms.

Din places him gently into his mobile cot so as to not wake him by taking him down the ladder, and realises he hasn't heard you move in over an hour.

Which is somewhat alarming - you take turns in the cot in the hull, and since Din can sleep in the pilot's chair, he figured you'd sleep there.

But he never heard the cot door depressurize and slam open, nor did he hear you pottering around like he usually does.

So he makes his way down the ladder, and he's bewildered by what he sees.

You're slumped on the ground, neck bent at an uncomfortable angle against the cupboard. You're breathing through your mouth a little raggedly, so fast you're almost panting, and there is a trickle of mucus coming out of your nose. Your hands twitch where they're draped across your torso, and your skin looks dull.

His heartrate skyrockets - he's a seasoned warrior and you're just his employee, so it probably shouldn't - and he moves over to you instantly.

Before he can think, he turns on the thermal view on his helmet, and sees that your head is hotter than the human head usually appears. So is your whole body.

He flicks it back to normal as he crouches next to you.

"Hey, wake up," he mutters.

He reaches out a hand to touch your shoulder, but he stops. He hasn't touched you before. Not intentionally. He wonders if you'd mind.

He thinks about it more and more each day.

Touching you.

Holding your hand, standing shoulder to shoulder, stroking your face.

Pressing your foreheads together in the way of his people, even if it's through his helmet.

But this is to make sure you're okay; it's different, so he reaches out and gently shakes you by one shoulder.

"Hey, you need to wake up," he murmurs.

You grunt, and your voice sounds like the rumble of footsteps over gravel.

"Can you open your eyes for me?"

Your eyelashes are a little crusted together, but you manage to open them. Your stare is vacant.

Din starts to panic.

"Did someone poison you? Did you eat something bad? Are you alright?"

You give him a sleepy chuckle, and your eyes close again, which is not helpful.

"Hey." He says with the sort of no-nonsense tone he uses with the child.

You blink. "What?"

"Did you get poisoned? Or spiked?"

"'M fine, Mando."

"You're not."

You huff, which sets you into a fit of coughing.

"What's wrong?" He asks.

You look at him with those bright, bloodshot eyes. You sniff and blink a few more times, blearily. It's silly, because he's really worried there's something wrong with you, but the open, sleepy expression on your face fills him with affection.

"Sweetheart, please."

You smile just barely. "Really, 'm fine. Just'a cold," you mumble.

"How would you have gotten a cold? The rain yesterday?" Din starts to spiral; he's supposed to protect you, whether he's ever expressed that to you or not, and now you're sick-

"Prob'ly that club a few days ago. Lots'a people. Confined space. No ventilation. Wonder why you didn't get sick."

"My helmet filters out most toxins and germs." He says.

You reach out and fiddle with the edge of one of the pouches strapped around his calf. "Lucky boy," you say, grinning dazedly.

You look incredibly unwell, but you're touching him, joking around with him. His heart pounds.

Then you groan and put your hand to your head, and he's whirled into action again.

.

The next half hour is hard to remember in full detail. You're so tired.

These are the glimpses you're conscious enough for:

Mando lifts you up, even with his bad back, and sits you up properly. He gets painkillers from the 'fresher, which you try to refuse, but he practically force-feeds them to you. He gives you his water canteen and tells you to take twenty sips of it.

He holds a cloth to your nose and tells you to blow your nose into his hand, which is mortifying, but you're too dazed to do otherwise.

He uses a cold, damp cloth to wipe your face and neck down, which makes your skin erupt in goosebumps.

"Too cold," you grumble.

"Almost done, baby."

The heat that rushes through you at the sound of his gruff, modulated voice calling you 'baby' almost cures your chills for a second.

"Can I hold you?" the Mandalorian asks softly.

If you were awake, you'd freak out about this ridiculously attractive and emotionally distant man making an offer like that, but being held just sounds nice right now, so you whisper, "Yeah."

Next thing you know, the battle-hardened, ruthless Mandalorian bounty hunter is sitting behind you, one arm around your torso, the other stroking your forehead.

You're in between his legs, your back against his chest.

This is not how you thought your recovery from illness would go.

You find you don't have any reason to complain.

His armour's a little cold, and it shocks you at first, but once your feverish body heat warms it up, it's soothing. He smells good - beskar doesn't have that tangy scent so many metals have; it's cleaner, earthier. He smells warm, inviting, human.

You like this Mandalorian. Quite a lot, as Mandalorians go. And just as a person in general.

He chuckles; a deep, comforting rumble that you feel in your back ribcage before you hear it.

"What're you laughin' at?" you mumble, burrowing the side of your head into his chest

Another shorter, breathy chuckle. "What you just said."

Oops. "Didn't mean t' say that. Out loud, I mean."

"I'll forget I heard it."

"No you won't. You remember everything."

The chin of his helmet rests gently against the crown of your head, and he takes a deep breath in.

"Sleep, cyare. I've got you."

[blindmagdalena]

I hope you are taking care good care of yourself! I was just thinking about taking care of a sick Homelander, maybe another supe that can make other supers fall ill accidentally used their powers on Homelander, the supe gave him the equivalent of the flu, but Homelander being Homelander is needy and dramatic as fuck, forcing you to take care of him.

It's been two days since Homelander had a nasty run-in with a supe terrorist—sorry, super villain—who calls themselves Contagion. As the name implies, their power is the spread of disease through contact. At the time, Homelander had been dismissive of it, certain he would be immune. As it turns out, he absolutely is not. Luckily, it isn't lethal for him in the way it would be for just about anyone else. However, it has left him suffering side-effects the likes of which he has never experienced. On the bright side, it isn't contagious beyond initial infection, and you've been allowed to care for him while the malady wears off. In fact, he insisted upon it. He thoroughly refused to stay in Vought's medical ward.

"Babe," Homelander groans weakly. He's sprawled out on the couch, too stubborn to be resting by himself in the bedroom while you cook dinner, but too sick to be self-sufficient. You know it's serious because he's wearing pajamas. "My ice pack melted." Never have you heard him sound so full of self-pity. He's been relentlessly mopey through this experience. While you can't blame him, the flu is wretched, the theatrics are a little funny. You give a quiet laugh under your breath. Not quiet enough. "You're laughing," Homelander says flatly, still holding up that melted little ice pack. "I'm dying a slow, miserable death, and you're laughing." "You're not dying," you assure him, biting back a smile. You turn off the heat, cover the pot of soup, and retrieve a new ice pack from the freezer. You walk it to him, taking the lukewarm one from his extended hand. "The doctor said your system is fighting it exceptionally well. You're going to be alright." Homelander is quiet. He's pouting at you, you realize. His lips are pursed, brows deeply furrowed. His fever has improved, but his cheeks still have a pronounced flush to them.

He doesn't want facts. He wants comfort. "...But I know that it feels like you're dying," you continue, softening your tone. "Here, up," you say, gesturing for him to lift his head. He does so without hesitation, giving you just enough space to sit before he's crowding back down against you, nuzzling grumpily into your stomach. He slips his arm under your legs, wrapping it around to grip your thighs like a pillow. You press the cold gel pack to his forehead with one hand, and stroke through his hair with the other. He makes a soft, sad little noise, but it fades off into a sigh of relief. "There we go. I've got you, darling," you coo, brushing your thumb over his temple in soothing circles. He glances up sidelong at you, ill and with a deeply wounded ego. You smile sympathetically. "This will pass. I promise." "Don't laugh at me," he says, quiet and morose. "Okay," you relent, sincere. "I didn't mean it. Honest." Satisfied, he closes his eyes, turning his head into your touch. After a few moments, he opens his eyes, staring up at you, though his gaze seems distant. "I used to have dreams like this. Of being sick. Being taken care of. Eating chicken noodle soup. Just like in the movies." You hum, caressing his cheek with your knuckles. It makes your heart ache to think of him yearning for something like this. Dreaming of a taste of the normalcy he saw in fiction. "How does the reality compare?" "Awful," he says, pitch dropping. "But there's one part of it that's better." "Oh?" You prompt, intrigued. "What's that?" "You." It makes your heart skip a beat. Warmly, you smile down at him. "I love you." He smiles back weakly, but earnest nonetheless. "Love you, too." It makes all the more sense now why he was so adamant about being home with you, and not tended to by a dozen faceless professionals in a sterile hospital. For as miserable as this is, a small part of you is glad that he's been allowed this one deeply human experience, and that you have been the one to see him through it.

[thesakuragarnet]

Touch-Starved

Summary: What does the hero do when the villain collapses?

Tags: s3xual tension, swearing, first kiss, sickfic, hurt/comfort, DabiHawks, Pre-Paranormal Liberation War Arc, enemies to lovers, Dabi-typical body horror and blood

Word Count: 2,904 words

AO3 link

Dabi never canceled. No matter what. He couldn’t let trivial things get in the way of his plans, and, in his eyes, that included his health. He didn’t care that he was running late; he would find some sort of excuse. In truth, he was walking as fast as he could; everything felt like Hell. He was supposed to change out his staples last night, but he didn’t have the energy or the stamina. He was pretty sure Twice had given the entire League the flu, as everyone in the hideout slowly developed the same symptoms. Dabi never really got sick; his immune system had to be rock solid given his condition. If it were any lesser, he’d be long dead. He always kept up with his surgical staples, changing them out before anything got infected. In the back of his mind, if he didn’t change and clean them tonight, he feared the worst would happen. 

Hawks checks his watch as he waits in the dark warehouse, wondering where his villain contact is lurking. He looks up and sighs, preparing to turn and fly back out of the skylight, when a harsh creak of a door echoes through the building. Dabi is in his normal disguise: a dark pullover hoodie zipped up all the way with dark aviator shades. 

“And I thought you weren’t gonna show,” Hawks smiles cheekily before registering the difference in Dabi’s normal demeanor. His gait is slightly slower, and his eyes seem a little droopier than usual.

"You feeling okay?" The hero asks cautiously, putting his hands in his pockets. Dabi doesn't answer, which is unusual. Hawks expected some snarky comment or backhanded insult. The villain remains silent, and he ever so slightly starts to sway. 

"Over...sl....slept," Dabi lies between jagged breaths, barely getting the last word out before Hawks realizes his knees are buckling beneath him. 

"Whoa, whoa!" Hawks exclaims as his feathers swiftly stop Dabi's head from cracking against the concrete floor. He hesitantly steps toward him, wary that this is some kind of ruse. However, Dabi is unconscious, weakly shivering. Something in the back of Hawks' brain whispers. This is the chance to get one of Japan's worst villains off the streets for good . He could kill him and leave him here. The Commission would want that. It'd be so easy in his frail state. Hawks' brain swirls between listening to the voice of his superior in his head and following what his heart compels him to do. 

...

...

Dabi slowly opens his eyes to find himself on a couch covered in a thin blanket with a cold rag on his forehead. 

"Ah! You're alive!" Hawks' chipper voice assaults his ears as the Pro Hero suddenly materializes beside him, staring down at him like he's some museum exhibit. 

"Where the fuck am I?" Dabi croaks, his voice coming out raspier than usual. 

"My apartment. You passed out on me, Dabs. I was worried I was gonna have to drag your ass to the villain hospital," Hawks chuckles, but his words make Dabi's blood run cold. 

"You wouldn't dare ," Dabi seethes, feeling his Quirk activate at the mere thought of it. That would make this entire plan fall to pieces. They'd take his blood. They'd trace him back to Endeavor. It would ruin everything . 

"I wanna stay on your good side, man. Of course I wouldn't do that to you," Hawks replies, oblivious to the wrath he just incited within his colleague. Before Dabi can respond, he feels a dull wave of nausea and dizziness sweep through his body, making his vision blur. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to breathe through his nose. Normally, he can't feel pain. His nerves are all fried and dulled. Everything feels muted and faint to him. It has been since he woke up from his coma after Sekoto Peak. Whatever Twice had spread around the League was strong . Still. He needs to change out the staples. At least the ones on his back. He pulled some of them when he made a run with the League last week. If he didn't replace them, he'd risk going septic. Unfortunately, he's quickly realizing he won't be able to do that by himself in this state. 

“Fuck,” He mutters under his breath, feeling anxiety bubble up in the pit of his stomach. He’d brought a bag of supplies with him; he’d been planning on changing them out on the way back…if he made it that far. Suddenly, he feels the rag disappear and warm, soft skin replaces it on his forehead; he flinches, eyes snapping open when he realizes Hawks is feeling him for a fever. 

“You’re not quite burnin’ up, but I don’t know exactly how your Quirk impacts body temperature,” Hawks murmurs absentmindedly as he pulls the back of his palm away from Dabi. The touch was gentle. It was genuine concern. Dabi hadn’t felt such a thing since before his accident. Someone caring after him. His mouth is suddenly dry, and he can’t find the words. 

“You coulda told me you were sick. I wouldn’t have minded postponing our meeting,” Hawks points out, a touch of empathy in his voice. Dabi wrestles with the notion of whether his empathy is from his hero routine or from authentic compassion. They’d had a weird relationship ever since Dabi recruited him. There was an uneasy tension between the two. It had gathered at an all-time high the night of the Nomu attack in Kyushu when Hawks held a blade to his throat. But…this wasn’t the same Hawks that he met in that warehouse months ago. There was no cold-blooded, mistrustful stare…only worry…only tender warmth in his eyes. Dabi averts his eyes, taking in his surroundings. He can see his bag sitting on a red nest chair in the corner of the living room. Could he trust him to do this? Another shock of pain ebbs through Dabi's body, and he winces. He doesn't want to ask him for help. The mere thought is making his stomach churn even more. Hawks could easily kill him. He's literally giving him the opportunity to stab him in the back. The villain takes a deep, shuddering breath as he slowly sits up, ignoring the haze in his vision from the movement. 

"Bag," He demands without elaboration, pointing to the pack, and Hawks raises an eyebrow before complying. Without a word, Dabi carefully slips off his hoodie, and Hawks' eyes widen as he takes in Dabi's surprisingly toned form. The villain gets on his knees and turns around so that his back faces the hero. 

"I...I need you to change out the ones on the top part of my back," Dabi mumbles, hating that he has to even say it out loud. It feels pathetic. It takes a minute for Hawks to register just exactly what the villain is asking, but, when the lightbulb goes off in his head, he kicks off his shoes and gets on the couch, kneeling to face him as he unzips the pack. Carefully, he pulls out a pair of hemostats, a pack of gauze, a loaded surgical staple gun, and a water bottle filled with a clear bubbling liquid labeled "ANTISEPTIC". The hero blinks. It feels like a setup. Maybe some sort of test. There's no reason why the villain should trust him...unless it's truly a life-and-death situation that he's in no shape to handle himself. His eyes scan Dabi's back, lighting up in recognition when he sees the slightly pulled staples on the top of the scar line. There's ten of them. 

"You want somethin' to bite down on?" Hawks offers as he leans forward, positioning the first staple between the tips of the hemostats. 

"Used to the pain," Dabi rasps, and the hero sniffs before he carefully pries the staple free from Dabi's skin. Dabi grits his teeth as he feels the faint tug, and he hears Hawks trying not to panic behind him. 

"SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! THERE'S BLOOD!" Hawks stammers, haphazardly tearing open the package of gauze as he watches the red bloom out from under his scars where the staple once held the skin in place. 

"They fucking hold me together, moron. Yeah, there's gonna be blood. You should've had the gauze ready and held it over before you pulled it out," Dabi snaps, and Hawks snorts. 

"Y'know, you didn't give me any instructions," The Pro retorts before pouring some of the bubbly liquid on a fresh gauze square. He peels back the blood-soaked piece of gauze and immediately replaces it. The faint hiss that results from the chemical reaction makes Hawks cringe, and Dabi winces. 

"Hold it for five seconds. Then staple it," Dabi mutters, and Hawks nods wordlessly. With a shaking hand, Hawks grabs the silver staple gun, eyeballing the target before he pulls away the gauze square. 

Ka-CHICK!

The familiar sound of the staple gun sends chills down Dabi's spine, and he grunts at the dull, muted pain. Tenderly, Hawks presses the other side of the antiseptic gauze onto the shining staple, dabbing away any residual blood. 

"One down," Hawks quips softly, and Dabi flexes out of habit, getting used to the new staple. The motion highlights the hidden muscles in his back, and the sight catches Hawks off guard. Hawks turns his attention to the second dirty piece of metal in the row. This one looks particularly painful, and half of it is already lodged out, the blood clotting to it in a messy scab. 

"This one's gonna be a bitch," The hero warns, and Dabi braces himself. When he removes the staple, the clot dislodges, and Hawks quickly covers up the open wound before it can start spurting. Dabi shudders as his vision blurs in and out. He feels so fucking weak. He was never gonna let Twice hear the end of it when he got back to the base. Dabi gulps, barely registering the click of the fresh staple being fastened into his skin. 

...

Ka-CHICK!

Dabi curses like a sailor as Hawks fastens the final staple into his back, and the Pro immediately starts blotting away the dried blood with the antiseptic. Breath hisses through Dabi's gritted teeth as the sting slowly numbs, and, finally, it's over. The second Hawks pulls the rag away, he puts his hand on Dabi's unburned shoulder, giving a light, comforting squeeze.

"Do I...can I put the Neosporin on 'em, too?" Hawks blurts. Dabi had almost forgotten about that. 

"Whatever, I guess," He huffs, wishing that he would stop talking; the situation couldn't possibly get even more awkward. He loathes the vulnerable position that he's found himself in. He should be intimidating the Pro, instead, he's being coddled by him. However, Dabi's bitter mindset dissolves when he feels Hawks' calloused hands massaging the scars on his back. It sounds cliché, but his touch feels like magic, expertly kneading into his flesh in a way that's subtly suspicious. After all, he must be doing this on purpose for Dabi to be able to register the sensation. It's thrillingly intimate...deliberate...intoxicating. The villain turns rigid, trying not to melt as Hawks' hands dance up and down his back, traveling significantly farther than the isolated scar line. 

"You're fuckin' tense," Hawks mutters under his breath as his hands find their way to Dabi's shoulders, thumbs pressing into the back of his neck. 

"Probably because my back is turned to a hero," Dabi grunts, letting the last word fall from his lips with a venomous twist. Hawks simply ignores him, a small smile playing at his lips when Dabi swallows a sigh as he forcibly rubs into the tense areas of muscle. Finally, he works his way back down to the scar line, and Dabi hears the familiar squelch of the tube. 

"You hadn't even put it on, yet?!" The villain scoffs, stealing a glance over his shoulder to see Hawks' shit-eating grin, but, when the hero catches him looking, his expression changes to ambivalence. 

"Quit complaining. You needed it. Don't you feel a little better?" Hawks replies before gently weaving his fingertips between the staples, and Dabi shudders at the faint cold sensation. The massage did manage to distract him a bit from the dull ache pulsing through his entire body. 

When Hawks removes his hands from Dabi's back, the villain takes in a deep breath as he turns to face the hero. It's only then that he realizes how close Hawks has gotten. Their faces are mere inches apart, and Dabi's heart skips a beat...for whatever reason. He doesn't know why he feels so flustered all of a sudden. Maybe it's the intimacy that he accidentally created? Maybe it's the fact that, for once, someone seems to care in a way that no one else ever has? A few seconds of silence slip by; the only sounds coming from Hawks' apartment are their tense breathing. In the dim lights of the apartment, Hawks practically glows; the lights reflect off of his feathers and highlight the gold flecks in his eyes. There's a glint in them that Dabi's never seen before. 

Time seems to stop...and...without a word...Hawks leans in...and kisses him. Dabi's eyes widen, and his breath catches in his throat; he freezes like a statue, his entire body tensing the moment that Hawks' impossibly soft lips sweetly press against his. He can only partially even feel the sensation, but it shakes him to the core. The hero's eyes are closed, and the villain takes note of how long his eyelashes are. He assumed the markings on the corners of his eyes were some sort of weird birthmark, but now he can see that it's just seamless eyeliner. His gut instinct is to push him away. To burn him to ashes. He should kill him for doing this. But...his heart twists in a way that makes blood well up in his fucked up tear ducts. Everything about this is wrong...but...why does it feel so right? Why does it feel relieving? Against every logical thought, Dabi's eyelids flutter shut, thin streaks of blood dripping down from them as he begins to kiss him back. Hawks smiles into the kiss, a low chuckle rumbling in his throat when he feels Dabi pushing closer, and he wraps his arms around the villain, making sure not to pull any of the fresh staples on his back. Dabi's sharply inhales and exhales through his nose as he gently lifts his hands up, using the little bit of strength he has to cup the side of the hero's face and wrap another arm around his waist. After what seems like an eternity, they both break from the kiss, cerulean eyes reflecting in gold. Dabi can't form words. His mind is swimming with a thousand thoughts of: 'You idiot! What are you doing?! That was...amazing... He's the enemy! You can't trust him! He's so pretty...' Until it finally lands on:

"Why the fuck would you do that?!" Dabi suddenly angrily blurts, his face heating up as a dull blush spreads across the healthy skin on his face. 

"Please. I don't care if you get me sick," Hawks smirks, rolling his eyes and waving his hand absentmindedly. 

"That's not why-I don't give a- fuck you!" Dabi stammers, getting progressively irritated as he tries to gather his hazy mind. He can't think clearly when he feels so shitty. 

"You're the one who leaned into it," The Pro shrugs, grinning smugly. Dabi scoffs, speechless. He can't stop staring at Hawks' lips. No one had ever touched him like that. Not in a way that felt like it meant something. But...what the fuck did it mean? Hawks' devilish smile fades when he notices the trails of blood streaming from Dabi's eyes, steadily dripping down the side of his face. 

"Dabi," Hawks mutters, his voice laced with worry as he points to the red streaks. Dabi blinks, immediate realization crashing down on him as he frantically thumbs the blood away, embarrassed that he let himself be so vulnerable and silently cursing himself for it. Another wave of nausea sweeps through his body, and he puts his face in his hands, trying to calm down. 

"Hey, I didn't mean to upset you," The hero murmurs apologetically, feathers drooping ever so slightly as he instinctively reaches an arm out to comfort him. Dabi flinches the moment Hawks' fingers brush against his shoulder, but, in a split second, he sinks into the gesture, letting himself get lost in the feeling of his touch. 

"I...I haven't felt this shitty in a long time," Dabi huffs, his voice muffled by his hands as he keeps his face hidden.

"I think you just need some rest," Hawks offers, giving his shoulder another tender squeeze, "You can crash here for the night if you want. I'm not sure if you should try to make it all the way back to wherever your colleagues are holed up."

Dabi sighs, mulling it over in his head. He knows that he's right. He'll probably just collapse again if he trudges back on his own...and he can't take Hawks back to the base yet. 

"You tell anyone about any of this, and I'll burn everything you love to the fucking ground," The villain grumbles, and the hero chuckles nervously. 

"Wouldn't expect anything less."

[merrybloomwrites]

You Can Start a Family Update

After taking a little break I'm planning to start writing again this weekend!

The first one I'm going to work on is a sickfic. Probably gonna be a bit more intense than a cold or flu or something like that. I'm planning to go all in on the angst and reader being taken care of by everyone.

I also got a request for another angsty one that I'll start soon as well.

I'll throw something fluffy in soon; no specific plan for that so I would love to take a request if there's anything you want to see!

Finally, I want to do another smut piece but again, not sure exactly what I want to do. There's a smut prompt list under the read more so please let me know if there's anything from that you'd like to see!

“You look just about good enough to eat.”

“Take your clothes off. Right now.”

“We’re really going to fuck here? What if someone sees us?”

“Hands behind your back.”

“Open your mouth for me, baby.”

“Is it good when I touch you here? Or maybe here?”

“Beg for it.”

“Be a good girl/boy for mommy/daddy.”

“I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

“You’re so in for it when we get home.”

“You can take it, you’ve done it before.”

“Just a little more.”

“I won’t apologise for marking you up, everyone should know you’re taken.”

“Suck on my fingers.”

“You look so good with my hands around your neck.”

“Keep your eyes open, look at me, baby.”

“Kiss me properly.”

“You’re so wet.”

“Look how good you take it.”

“My baby, you did so well.”

“God, you feel amazing.”

“Swallow. All of it.”

“Faster! Please, let me come!”

“Do think you deserve a reward/punishment?”

“Don’t make a mess, baby.”

“Come one more time for me, I know you’ve got it in you.”

“Stay still, don’t move your hips.”

“How do you want it?”

“Show me how much you missed me.”

“Did you come already?”

“Can you use your hand?”

“Harder.”

“It’s not too tight, is it?”

“I want to see you, want to watch you come.”

“Enough, please, I can’t take anymore!”

“That’s so fucking hot.”

“What makes you think I’m going to fuck you?”

“Spread your legs for mommy/daddy, I want to see you.”

“Slowly, baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Holy shit, you came pretty quickly.”

“Do you need to use your safeword, darling?”

“Do you know what happens when you misbehave?”

“Are you holding back? Don’t.”

“Shall we put that mouth to better use?”

“You’re going to come untouched, do you understand?”

“I want it. I want to taste you.”

“Don’t think so much, just let your body take control.”

“Won’t you help me? Please?”

“I don’t like getting off on my own.”

“Oh, baby, you’re drooling everywhere.”

“It’s my thigh or nothing, I’m not helping you get off.”

“I want you so bad.”

“You seem more sensitive than usual.”

“No one’s ever touched me like this, fuck.”

“Turn over, baby.”

“Come for me, you’ve done so well.”

“Again! Please, again!”

“Touch yourself.”

“I said I’d take care of you, did you think I wouldn’t follow through on that?”

“I don’t want anyone else. No one else can make me feel like you do.”

“I know, baby, I know. I’m right here, just breathe.”

“Please! Give it to me!”

“So good for me, look at how much you came.”

“Shh, just look at me, baby.”

“I’ll take care of you.”

“Where did this attitude come from?”

“You like it that much, hm?”

“I need it! Please!”

“God, you love it like this, don’t you?”

“Don’t tease me.”

“Please, I can’t sit still.”

“You know I’m holding back from fucking you over this kitchen counter, don’t push your luck.”

“I need you. I need you both, right now.” (could change this to "need you all")

“You know, I could always get you off right here, right now.”

“I can be good, so good! I swear!”

“You didn’t come yet, let me-”

“Do you wonder what it is that makes me scream?”

“We have to make this quick.”

“You’re easy to please.”

“Why not tonight? I’m even wearing something pretty.”

“Why are you being so gentle with me? I like it when you’re rough.”

“Does it make you nervous when I stare?”

“It’s hot when you talk back.”

“You’re so messy.”

“Your thighs are shaking so much.”

“I know what I like, I know my limits.”

“Be good for me and I’ll untie you.”

“I can’t- please- I can’t-”

“That’s good, baby, keep doing that.”

“Just relax for me, I’ll make it feel good.”

“Quiet, baby, the others will hear.”

“I had this dream and- fuck- you couldn’t keep your hands of me.”

“I was good while you were gone! I didn’t even touch myself.”

“I never thought I’d hear you say that, fuck, that’s hot.”

“I want more, please, give me more!”

“You’re still horny? Didn’t I fuck you hard enough last night?”

[raaorqtpbpdy]

Truth in Rumors

Based on the Phic Phight prompts: When Wes Weston is pulled out of school under mysterious circumstances, Danny thinks he'll have a little fun starting a conspiracy of his own. Turnabout is fair play, after all. It gets a little out of hand (from @thatst) and Wes gets in an accident while working on a plan to convince people that Danny is Phantom. Thanks to the ambient ectoplasm in Amity and the constant exposure to ghosts, he doesn't die... but he does get a lot clumsier in a very familiar way. (from @ajitated)

AO3 Link

[Warning's for mentioned character half-death, and swearing]

Wes had always been one of those perfect attendance kids. As long as they'd gone to school together, Danny couldn't think of a single time Wes had been absent, unlike Danny, who missed class all the time, especially since high school started. So, when Wes was mysteriously absent from school one day, the people who knew him took notice.

All they guys on the basketball team were muttering about how weird it was that Wes wasn't at school. A few others from his classes were remarking about the serendipitous break they were getting from his unceasing conspiracy theories. Normally, there was nothing all that interesting about a student being absent for a day, but Danny knew a golden opportunity when he saw one.

This was a chance to finally get back at Wes for constantly trying to expose his identity. This was his chance to make up a little conspiracy of his own. Turnabout was fair play, after all.

"Did you hear what happened to Wes?" Danny asked Mandy in history class, which she shared with both Wes and Danny.

"You mean that he's absent today?" she asked. "Yeah, I noticed."

"No, I mean did you hear why he's absent?"

"No? He's probably got a cold or something."

"Nope," Danny said. "He was trying to prove his insane theory about half-ghosts and got himself ecto-contaminated. My parents got a call about it last night and had to rush over 'cause they're the only people around who know how to take care of something like that. That idiot's in quarantine with a strain of ghost flu."

"No way," Mandy said, though she didn't appear to actually doubt his story at all. It did rather sound like something Wes would do. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," Danny insisted. "I got woken up last night by my parents prepping their equipment to treat him and they told me about the call."

"Damn, Wes may have gone a little too far this time."

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Danny scoffed. "My parents can treat ghost flu in their sleep. Serves him right, if you ask me. At least I'm getting a break from him rooting through my trash looking for 'evidence'." Danny put finger-quotes around the last work and rolled his eyes, illiciting a scoff from Mandy.

Mandy was an incurable gossip, which was why Danny had told her first. The rumor spread through the school like wildfire. When Wes was absent again the following day, the rumor mill worked over time. The rumor Danny had started grew twisted. Now Wes had become a ghost and would likely never return to school. Now the Fentons had already captured him and were running experiments. Now Phantom had rescued him and sent him to the Ghost Zone forever.

On the third day, Wes returned to school. He seemed human enough, as far as anyone could tell, but at the same time, something was off about him. Something strangely familiar. When Wes came back to school, he was suddenly clumsier than he'd ever been. Danny heard some of the basketball players complaining about how much Wes dropped the ball during practice, and the chemistry teacher complaining about dropped beakers. 

It wasn't until the chem teacher remarked, "He's like Danny all over again," that he made the connection. "I swear if I have to hand out another lifetime ban from touching sensitive equipment, I will. The school does not give me enough funds to keep buying new beakers and test tubes."

Danny had to talk with Wes right away.

"Fenton!" Wes shouted, cornering him in the hall after school. "Care to explain all the stupid rumors about me dying and being banished to the Ghost Zone? I know this is your fault."

"Care to explain why you're sinking into the floor?" Danny shot back. Wes was normally taller than him, but they were eye to eye.

"Shit!" Wes flailed, and Danny pulled him out of the ground with a sigh and dragged him into the staff bathroom, locking the door behind them.

"What the hell did you do to yourself?" Danny demanded. "Did you actually do what I think you did in your stupid quest to prove I'm a halfa?"

"A halfa?" Wes asked. "Is that what you are?"

"Don't call me that, it's a slur," Danny said. "Explain yourself."

"I didn't do it on purpose," Wes began. "I was... investigating the scene of that big ghost fight. Your mom was using this big, bazooka thing, and threw it away when it got damaged and stopped working. It was pretty much trashed, and she left it behind when the fight was over."

Wes had been trying to learn as much as he could about ghosts in order to prove that Danny was one. He shouldn't have messed with such a dangerous weapon, but he brought it home, to his room. While he was examining it, the weapon suddenly turned back on. Wes' voice caught in his throat as he described the way the Fenton Bazooka had malfunctioned, opening a ghost portal halfway inside Wes as it exploded.

"I don't know how I'm even still here, to be honest," Wes finished. "It completely trashed my room. It was more painful than anything I've ever experienced. I should be dead dead, but... I still have a pulse, and I'm still breathing."

"Yeah, being a half-ghost is weird like that." He wanted to be smug, because it sort of served Wes right, but he also knew exactly the kind of pain Wes was talking about, and he couldn't help a pang of sympathy. "You should know better than to touch discarded Fenton tech. Amity Park Sanitation dedicates a full day of training for how to safely dispose of my parents junk."

"How was I supposed to know that?" Wes groused, crossing his arms over his chest. "How could I possibly know that it was going to explode on me like that?" Danny sighed harshly. How could Wes not have guessed that? Fenton tech blew up all the time.

"Well, congrats Wes, you're like me now," Danny told him, finally mustering up some of the sarcasm he'd wanted to berate Wes with from the beginning. "You're half-ghost, which means the government has legally stripped you of all your rights as human beings, and if my parents ever find out what you are, you'll be on a metal autopsy table before you can pick out a ghost name."

"Well I'd have a lot less to worry about if someone hadn't spread rumors about me being a ghost all around the school when I was absent for two days."

"You're one to talk!" Danny scoffed, although he did sort of have a point. Danny would have to make sure those rumors were fully put to rest now that he knew the truth. As much as Wes annoyed him, he didn't want the asshole to be in genuine danger. "I was just trying to mess with you to get back at you for trying to expose me. I had no idea what happened to you. You know damn well what you're doing and you still try to expose me. Maybe now you'll learn to appreciate why I keep it a secret in the first place." Wes visibly tensed, then looked down at the tile floors, ashamed. "I'm surprised you haven't gone and revealed yourself to the whole school already, just to prove you were right."

"I... I'm sorry," Wes mumbled. "I never realized how hard this crap was. I've only been like this for three days, and I already had to miss school for two of them because my eyes wouldn't stop glowing and my hair wouldn't stop floating. Now I'm back and stuff keeps falling right through my hands."

"And my parents haven't even threatened to tear you apart molecule by molecule yet."

Wes flinched, but nodded. "I know I shouldn't be asking, because we're the furthest thing from friends, but please help me," he begged. His green eyes glowed red at he fixed Danny with a pleading gaze. "I have no idea what I'm doing, and I promise to stop trying to expose you, just please, please help me figure this out! There's no one else I can ask!"

Danny wanted to say no, to tell Wes to figure it out himself, like Danny had, but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to. He just couldn't leave someone to drown like this when he had the ability to save them. "Fine," he relented. "You're eyes are glowing by the way." Wes cursed as he jerked back and covered them. "It doesn't matter if it's only me around, but you should at least figure out how to tell whether they're glowing or not. Let's see your ghost form."

"Um... alright," Wes agreed. "I'm not sure if I can go back and forth on command yet."

"Close your eyes, and focus on your core," Danny instructed. "Switching between forms feels like turning something upside-down inside you. It's just a matter of finding the part of you that's human, and flipping it over. Visualize the transformation, and then switch." Wes nodded.

A moment later, there was a bright light like a camera flash, and when Danny stopped seeing spots, there was Wes, floating before him. His close had switched to a black and green version of Casper High's basketball uniform. His red hair was teal, and floating around his head as if he were underwater, framing his glowing red eyes. His freckles glowed now too, bright specks of light against his translucent skin.

"Yup, just as I suspected," Danny remarked, nodding approvingly.

"What?"

"You're ghost form doesn't look half as cool as mine does." Wes growled, and blue-green beams of ectoplasm shot from his eyes right at Danny, knocking him against the sink.

"Shit! Sorry!" Wes apologized. "I genuinely didn't mean to do that! It just happened!"

"All good," Danny grunted as he used the sink to push himself back up to his feet. "But we've got our work cut out for us."

[daintyduck99]

Friends to lovers trope my beloved! hugging and absentmindedly kissing their neck, resulting in mortification for one of them for rulie please!

Also tagging @jmrothwell, who asked for the same prompt! <3

Julie frowns at herself in the mirror.

She looks fine. She's being ridiculous.

Reggie has known her since they were six and seven years old; he's seen her covered in mud and paint and god knows what else. Heck, he saw her cry because she got her hair stuck in a fan once! 

Which…may have slightly been his fault, but he'd looked so torn up about it that she hadn't had the heart to be mad at him. Plus, he had held her hand the whole time as her mom got the fan detangled. 

So. She looks totally fine, and he knows she's looked worse. He's just dropping by her apartment for a friendly weekend visit. No need to fret about her baby hairs, or if her tied-back t-shirt and patchwork jeans are cute but casual enough. None at all! 

Still…

She tugs at her curls, wondering if she ought to try and tame them. But if she leaves them be, he might play with them, or bury his face in them when he hugs her. 

She'd given him permission to touch her hair long ago, and the way he'd lit up is still burned on the inside of her eyelids. 

And he's gotten really good at braiding it, which kinda outweighs the whole thing with the fan. She smiles at the thought.

"Daydreaming about your boy, babe?"

Julie squeaks, spinning to confront Kayla's smirk, which only grows as Julie stammers.

"H-he isn't…it's not like that!" 

"Oh?" Kayla's eyebrows arch. "Julie, how long have you been standing there?" 

Julie bites her lip, and Kayla relents a bit.

"Well, either way, I'll be out of your hair before he gets here. Don't sweat it, okay? I'm sure he's sighing into the sunset and messing with his hair in his mirrors, too." 

She's gone in a whirl of glitter and fluttery purple fabric before Julie can object, or even ask her about her own plans. 

And Julie tries not to daydream. She does.

But, well…

How else is she supposed to pass the time? She's sick of overanalyzing herself. 

She's sitting on the couch with a book she hasn't absorbed a word of by the time he knocks on the door, wrenching her from a particularly interesting scenario in her head that involved them square dancing. 

She may or may not have stolen his hat. 

Anyway! Reality! He's here! 

She plucks at her top and her bracelets and her hair, then hurries over to the door. 

Swinging it open reveals his sunny crooked smile, and his bright green eyes, which have crinkled at the corners. 

"Hi," she breathes, heart hammering against the bars of her ribs. "How—" 

He surges forward and tugs her into his arms, startling a giddy laugh out of her.

He does bury his face in her hair, and her heart stutters. She hides her face in the crook of his neck as he murmurs…

"Missed you." 

That does sort of answer her unspoken question. She missed him too, of course, and she holds him tighter in response. 

She even missed the way he smells, like leather and some kind of smoky cologne. 

He didn't always, of course. He used to smell like freshly cut grass from hours spent outside, or like cinnamon candies.

One thing that hasn't changed, though, is how sensitive his neck is. Ticklish. She'd first discovered it by accident when they were teens, playing with the fine hair at the nape of his neck, and she loves how blushy he gets, how it makes him shiver and surrender a quiet, breathy laugh.

A quiet, breathy laugh that's echoing a bit too sharply in her ears. 

"J-Julie—" 

Her eyes fly open, and she gasps, detaching her lips from his neck. 

She tries to scramble out of his arms, but he keeps holding her close, and she presses her forehead into his shoulder with a groan. A blush burns along her cheeks, spreading to the tops of her ears.

"Oh my god, Reggie, I am so sorry…" 

He swallows, hard. "You don't have to be." 

She feels her confusion write itself on her face, wrinkling her forehead. She lifts her head slowly, still conscious of her flush. 

And he's blushing too, but what really makes her gasp is the state of his eyes.

They flicker, like a candle burning low, to her lips, darker than she's ever seen them. 

"If you want me," he murmurs, "don't be sorry. Just say the word, and I'm yours." 

So she bunches her fingers in the back of his jacket, uncaring of the fact that they're still standing in the doorway for anyone to see, and tilts her face more towards his. 

She's scarcely said yes before he's stealing the word straight from her lips. 

And later, when Kayla takes one look at her and her still thoroughly mussed hair, squeals, and tells her good for you, Julie just beams…

Too sated and smitten to be mortified at all. 

[nosweatcleaning]

The Health Benefits of Weekly Professional House Cleaning

Maintaining a clean living space is essential not only for aesthetics but also for your health and well-being. While many people try to keep their homes tidy on their own, enlisting the help of a professional cleaning service every week offers a range of health benefits that go beyond surface-level cleanliness. Here’s why opting for regular professional cleaning can enhance your overall health:

Reduction in Allergens

Dust, pollen, pet dander, and other allergens can accumulate quickly in a home, even if it looks relatively clean. These microscopic particles can trigger allergies, asthma, and respiratory problems, especially in children, the elderly, or those with preexisting conditions. Professional cleaning services use advanced techniques and equipment, such as HEPA-filter vacuums and effective dusting methods, to remove these allergens from surfaces, carpets, and air ducts. By scheduling weekly cleanings, you significantly reduce the amount of allergens in your home, creating a healthier living environment.

Improved Indoor Air Quality

Indoor air quality can sometimes be worse than outdoor air, especially if your home is not cleaned regularly. Dust, mold spores, and bacteria can circulate through your air vents and settle on surfaces. A weekly cleaning service ensures that these contaminants are removed before they build up, improving the overall air quality in your home. Cleaner air can reduce the risk of respiratory issues, such as sinus infections, coughing, or other irritations, and promote better lung health for all inhabitants.

Prevention of Mold and Mildew

Bathrooms, kitchens, and other damp areas of the house are breeding grounds for mold and mildew, which can lead to serious health issues if not managed properly. Exposure to mold can cause skin irritations, respiratory problems, and, in severe cases, exacerbate conditions like asthma. Professional cleaners have the right tools and cleaning solutions to prevent and remove mold growth in these sensitive areas. By having your home cleaned weekly, you keep mold at bay and ensure that potentially harmful fungi don’t have the chance to develop.

Reduced Spread of Germs and Bacteria High-touch areas such as doorknobs, light switches, countertops, and kitchen appliances are hotspots for germs and bacteria. Regular disinfection of these surfaces is key to preventing the spread of illnesses such as the cold, flu, and even foodborne pathogens. Professional cleaning services prioritize sanitizing and disinfecting these commonly touched areas, helping to break the chain of transmission for viruses and bacteria. This is particularly important if you have children, elderly family members, or anyone with a weakened immune system living in your home.

Enhanced Mental Health and Stress Reduction A clean and organized home does more than benefit your physical health—it can also greatly impact your mental well-being. Clutter and mess can increase feelings of stress and anxiety, as they act as constant reminders of unfinished tasks. On the other hand, a clean and orderly environment promotes relaxation, reduces mental fatigue, and provides a sense of calm. Knowing that your home is professionally cleaned each week also frees up time and mental energy, allowing you to focus on activities that contribute to your happiness and well-being.

Fewer Pests and Insects Unclean spaces, especially kitchens and bathrooms, can attract pests like ants, cockroaches, and rodents. These pests not only cause discomfort but can carry diseases that threaten your health, such as salmonella or E. coli. A weekly professional cleaning service ensures that areas prone to pest infestations are regularly cleaned and sanitized, reducing the likelihood of pests making a home in your house. Professional cleaners also have an eye for spotting early signs of infestations, allowing you to address the problem before it worsens.

Less Physical Strain

Cleaning your home can be physically demanding, especially when it comes to tasks like scrubbing floors, deep cleaning bathrooms, or reaching high areas. This can be particularly challenging for individuals with physical limitations, injuries, or chronic conditions. Hiring professional cleaners not only ensures that your home is thoroughly cleaned, but it also reduces the risk of injury or strain for you. Regular cleaning by professionals keeps your home in top condition without you having to lift a finger.

Better Sleep Quality

Believe it or not, a clean home can lead to better sleep. Studies show that people who live in clean, clutter-free environments tend to sleep more soundly. Regular cleaning reduces dust, allergens, and irritants that can cause sneezing, coughing, or discomfort while you sleep. Additionally, the mental peace that comes with knowing your space is clean can make it easier to unwind at the end of the day and enjoy a more restful night’s sleep.

Conclusion

Investing in weekly professional house cleaning isn’t just about making your home look spotless—it’s an important step in safeguarding your health. From improving air quality to reducing stress and allergens, professional cleaning services can enhance your physical and mental well-being. By keeping your home consistently clean, you create a healthier environment for yourself and your family, making it easier to enjoy the comfort and peace that a clean space provides.

[drvitaltips]

Does the Flu Make Your Eyes Hurt? Causes & Solutions

Ever wonder does the flu make your eyes hurt? The answer is yes! The flu can knock you out! Fever, chills, body aches – it's enough to make anyone miserable. But did you know the flu can also make your eyes hurt? If your eyes feel sore, itchy, or like they're burning, you're definitely not the only one. So, why does the flu mess with your eyes, and what can you do to get some relief? Let's dive in! Flu and Your Eyes: Why the Connection? There are a few reasons why the flu can leave your eyes feeling not-so-great: - Pink Eye (Conjunctivitis): Ugh, pink eye! This super common eye infection is often caused by the same viruses that bring on the flu. Think redness, itching, sometimes a goopy discharge, and that awful crusty feeling in the morning. - Dry, Strained Eyes: The flu's classic symptoms like headaches and sinus pressure (that stuffy nose feeling) can make your eyes feel tired and dry. You might also blink less when you're feeling under the weather, which makes dryness worse. - Light Sensitivity: Did the lights suddenly get brighter? Headaches, eye strain, and the general ick-factor of the flu can leave your eyes extra sensitive to light. SymptomPink Eye (Conjunctivitis)Dry, Irritated Eyes from FluRednessYesSometimesItchinessYesYesDischargeYes, often thickUsually notContagiousHighlyNo Myth Buster: Reading in low light will damage your eyes.Fact: While reading in dim light can cause eye strain and tiredness, it won't permanently harm your vision. However, eye strain can certainly feel worse when you're already under the weather with the flu! Be kind to your eyes and make sure you have good lighting when reading or focusing on close work. Ouch! What Helps with Flu-Related Eye Discomfort? While your eyes might feel awful, there are things you can do for relief: - The Basics: This might seem obvious, but good hygiene is key when you have the flu! Wash your hands often and definitely avoid touching your eyes. Pink eye is super contagious, so you don't want to spread it around. - Cool It Down: A cool, damp washcloth over your closed eyes feels amazing when they're sore and itchy. - Fake Tears to the Rescue: Over-the-counter artificial tears (like eye drops) can help with dryness and that scratchy, irritated feeling. Key Takeaways: - The flu virus can cause several eye problems like pink eye, dryness, and light sensitivity - Taking steps to control the spread of germs can help protect your eyes - Cool compresses and eye drops can help provide relief from eye discomfort related to the flu Eye SymptomAt-Home RemediesRedness, ItchinessCool compress, artificial tears, avoid touching your eyesDrynessArtificial tears, limit screen time, use a humidifierLight SensitivityDim lights, sunglasses, take breaks from screensEye PainConsult with a doctor Protecting Your Eyes During Flu Season Okay, so you have the flu and your eyes feel terrible. But how can you protect your eyes when the dreaded flu season rolls around again? Here's the lowdown: - Get Vaccinated! Hands down, the best way to protect yourself from the flu and its yucky eye-related side effects is to get a flu shot. Not only does it lessen the chance you'll get the flu, but it can make your symptoms much milder if you do catch it. - Keep it Clean: You probably get tired of hearing it, but it's true – washing your hands frequently is one of the best ways to stop those nasty flu germs! Also, try to avoid touching your face, especially your eyes. - If You Do Get Sick: Stay home to protect others and help yourself recover faster. And while it's tempting, resist the urge to rub your eyes, even if they feel like they're on fire! Pros of Flu ShotCons of Flu ShotReduces risk of catching the fluMay cause mild side effects like soreness at injection siteLessens severity of symptoms if you do get sickNot 100% effective, you can still get the fluCan help protect others, especially vulnerable populationsMay not be suitable for everyone (talk to your doctor) FAQs - Question: How do I get rid of sore eyes from the flu? - Answer: Simple things like cool compresses, artificial tears, and getting enough rest can all aid with sore eyes. If the soreness is extreme or accompanied by vision changes, see your doctor. - Question: Why do I feel pressure on my eyes when I'm sick? - A: That pressure-y feeling in your eyes is likely due to sinus congestion, a common side effect of colds and the flu. - Question: What are flu eyes? - Answer: "Flu eyes" is a general term referring to eye problems caused by the flu virus, such as pink eye, dry eyes, and light sensitivity. - Question: Do your eyes hurt with COVID-19? - Answer: Yes, COVID-19 can cause eye problems similar to the flu, including redness, itching, and sensitivity. - Question: Why are my eyes so sensitive when I have the flu? - Answer: Headaches, inflammation, and overall body aches associated with the flu can make your eyes extra sensitive to light. Fact: Your eyes and your nose are closely connected! That's why sinus pressure from a cold or flu can leave your eyes feeling achy or uncomfortable. Should I See a Doctor? While most flu-related eye issues are minor and go away on their own, sometimes seeing a doctor is the right call. Definitely seek medical advice if: - Eye pain is severe - You have vision changes - Your eyes are getting worse, not better - You have thick eye discharge (especially yellow or green) Conclusion Having the flu is rough, and dealing with eye problems on top of it can feel like a double whammy. Remember, the majority of the time, flu-related eye troubles are annoying but temporary. Simple self-care practices can often make a big difference for helping those achy, itchy eyes feel better. Protecting yourself with a flu shot and practicing good hygiene are your best defenses against getting sick in the first place. If you are struggling with the flu and your eyes, don't hesitate to talk to your doctor for personalized advice and treatment options. Key Takeaways: - The flu can cause eye problems ranging from mild itchiness to serious infections. - Self-care strategies include cool compresses, eye drops, and avoiding touching your eyes - Getting a flu shot is the best way to protect yourself (and your eyes!) - Don't hesitate to see a doctor if eye symptoms are severe, don't improve, or if you have vision changes We hope this article has helped shed some light on why the flu can affect your eyes and provided you with helpful strategies to manage the discomfort. Feel better soon! Disclaimer: The information provided on this website is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice. Always consult with a qualified healthcare professional before making any decisions about your health. Read the full article

[gsuniversityofficial]

Best ways to avoid catching Viral Disease

Monsoons are here and so are the rains! With rain, there are higher chances of catching viral infections. Let us not forget the covid impact which took a viral storm globally.GS Hospital Ghaziabad has come up with an initiative to provide you with prevention and precautionary measures to avoid viral disease this season. Also, World Hepatitis Day is on 28th July 2023. GS Hospital Ghaziabad, the best hospital in India, takes a step forward to bring about awareness globally about the viral disease. This hospital is dedicated to raising awareness about viral disease as a World Hepatitis Day initiative.

Before we take a deep dive into the topic of the best ways to avoid catching viral diseases, let us give you a sneak peek into viral diseases.

What are viral diseases?

As the name suggests, “viral” means “to spread”. Yes, that’s right. Viral diseases are communicable diseases that tend to spread due to their contagious activity. Viral diseases are infections caused by viruses. They are also known as “superbugs.” They tend to spread different types of infection ranging from minor ones like flu or cold to severe ones like HIV.

Different types of viral diseases

The viral disease may affect one or multiple systems of the body from the respiratory system to the brain depending on the severity of the infection and the type of viral attack.

The different types of viral diseases are as follows-

Respiratory viral diseases like, flu, common cold, respiratory syncytial virus, covid.

Gastrointestinal viral diseases like Typhoid or gastroenteritis

Exanthematous viral diseases which include chickenpox, shingles, chikungunya, measles

Hepatic viral diseases like hepatitis A, B, C, D, E

Skin viral diseases which include, warts or HPV virus, herpes, molluscum contagiosum

Hemorrhagic or blood viral diseases include dengue fever, Ebola virus, and yellow fever.

Neurological viral diseases include meningitis, encephalitis, poliomyelitis, and rabies

How does viral disease affect your body?

The viral disease may enter the human body through the following pathways-

Close Contact

Coughing or sneezing causes respiratory problems

Defecation and vomiting cause gastrointestinal problems

Generally, our body is protected from the viruses causing infection with the immune system or defensive mechanism which protects the body by providing a shield. If the immune system is weakened, the body fails to fight viruses. This causes viruses to multiply resulting in infection and attacking other healthy cells. 

Symptoms of viral diseases

The general symptoms of viral diseases are as follows-

Flu-like symptoms such as fever

Sore throat

Runny nose

Vomiting and nausea

Loose motions

Swollen tonsils

Skin rashes

Excessive weight loss

Muscle weakness

Loss of appetite

It is important to stop the spread of the virus which may affect multiple systems. In such cases, along with proper medication from your doctor, there is a need to take certain precautionary measures to avoid viral diseases.

Top 8 best ways to avoid catching Viral Disease

The 8 best ways to avoid catching viral diseases are as follows-

1.  Wash your hands and sanitize

Handwashing is a must to protect yourself from any germs. Wash your hands regularly and frequently in case of flu-like symptoms after coughing, sneezing, visiting washrooms, vomiting, or even simply eating. Follow the handwashing guidelines-

Scrub your hands with soap for at least 30 seconds

Ensure to wash every part of hands which includes palms, fingernails, back of hands, and in between fingers.

Use sanitizer with at least 60% alcohol content.

2.   Avoid touching your face

Keep your hands away from your face, nose, mouth, and eyes to avoid the spread of infections. Touching your face frequently can result in a faster spread of infections by entering your body.

3.  Avoid close contacts

Are you going through an active infection? It is important to avoid close contact and stay away from people at around 6 feet. Avoid visiting public and crowded places. It is important to avoid going to school or work and take an off day instead even though you are completing your course of medications

4.  Cover while coughing and sneezing

Coughing and sneezing can cause faster spread of infections. They can spread through respiratory droplets in the air. It is important to cover your mouth and nose with your hand or with disposable tissue which is the best option. Post coughing and sneezing always make it a point to wash hands.

5.  Stay home when sick

If you are sick, you need to take care and stay home for faster recovery. Not only that, avoiding meeting people during sickness can help prevent the spread of viral diseases. Do not shake hands or touch others when you are sick.

6.  Clean and disinfect

Clean and disinfect objects and surfaces which you use frequently. It is important to disinfect your mobile, tablet, computer, laptop, switchboard, desk, and room as well to prevent cross-contamination which will trigger the spread of viral disease. You can use an alcohol-based disinfectant along with sanitizer to help prevent the spread of infection.

7.  Boost immunity

Boosting immunity is a must with supplements, a healthy diet, and optimum hydration. It is important to ask your doctor about flu shots, especially for recurrent viral diseases. Babies must be vaccinated to prevent any kind of viral infections which helps in boosting immunity. Remember to take your immunity dose of supplements and follow up with a healthy lifestyle to keep infections at bay.

8.  Best medical care

The viral disease may crop up with viral infection with the first sign of viral fever. Some viral fever may resolve on its own. However, it is recommended that if you have a fever for more than 24-48 hours which does not resolve with paracetamol, it is recommended to reach out to the best hospital for your treatment for medical care. Routine check-ups with your doctor and lab tests are a must for avoiding any recurrence of viral diseases to prevent severe infections in the future.

Wondering which hospital is the best for viral diseases? Well, when it comes to healthcare, we all want to choose the best doctor in India. Let’s explore in the next part of the article the best hospital with a team of the best doctors in India for viral issues.

Best Hospital in India for Viral Diseases - GS Hospital Ghaziabad

GS Hospital is considered as ranked #1 amongst the top 10 hospital in Ghaziabad. It is a well-known and medically reputed best hospital in Uttar Pradesh. Thanks to its special expertise with highly-qualified and board–certified doctors, GS Hospital is one of the pioneers in treating viral diseases to prevent a recurrence.

How does GS Hospital provide treatment for viral diseases?

GS Hospital is a highly renowned hospital with a professional team of the best doctors in India along with dedicated staff. They work in the following steps to protect you from viral diseases.

Allocate you to the best doctor for infectious diseases who is a superspecialist

Helps in getting laboratory tests or any other diagnostic test done to confirm the diagnosis

Provide the best treatment and course of action based on your diagnosis for faster and better recovery

Helps provide preventive measures and healthy lifestyle practices to prevent the recurrence of viral diseases.

When should I see a doctor for a viral disease?

It is important to monitor your symptoms in cases of flu-like problems in the initial stage itself. Here are certain warning signals on when you should see a doctor for a viral disease which is as follows-

Fever that reaches 103 F or higher

Severe headaches

Weakness with dizziness

Abdominal or chest pain

Rashes on body

Stiffness of neck

Convulsions if any

Conclusion

Flu-like symptoms for viral diseases may crop up at any point in time. In such cases, it is important to keep medical assistance handy. Knowing where to go for the best medical care and whom to approach is very essential. Along with proper treatment and medications from the best hospital and doctor, it is important to follow healthy lifestyle practices to keep viral diseases at bay in the future and lead a healthy life.

[mitzirockerextendeduniverse]

...

is there room for me, in this cozy cottagecore future?

i don't have a garden. that's not because i don't have an opportunity, it's because it's not my kind of thing. i don't have grandkids, either. i live on my own, in a small house full of old books and at least one thing what plays video games. there's a community outside, for when i have the energy, but i need my own space, quiet, unbothered, to recharge. i go for walks, i write

what am i wearing? up here, where i grew up, they make clothes from wool, it's way too cold to grow clothing plants. but wool itches against my skin, it makes me break out in rashes, and it gets up my throat and makes my breath come out wheezing. that's likely to be a problem either way, though, with how terrible my respiratory system is. are there asthma inhalers in your future? are there annual flu shots?

what do i eat? pecans, eggs, milk, i have so many allergies i have to keep in mind when i choose my food, narrowing down your sprawling feast to a few tiny dishes. you look at your locally grown produce and marvel at its freshness, but i stare at the nuts and beans on offer and remember the tropical fruits of my youth. chicken in bread again tonight, it seems

while you grow milkweed in your garden, am i fiddling with a nest of internet cables, begging them out loud to just connect, just for an hour? or does the internet even exist? am i forever wistfully remembering the friends i made when i was young, the fandom community that was the first place i ever belonged, the stories that meant so much to me that no one around me ever understands? i used to study a language spoken on the other end of eurasia, it was the one 'useful' skill i've ever really had. i used to be able to brush up against a world so like and unlike my own, and dreamed of writing translation bridges to bring together people from here and there. i'll never touch that world again, now

perhaps i've made friends in my local community, but i've never been good at that. i can't talk for an hour about nothing, i can't do small talk or stay in a conversation that's stressing me out or even look people in the eye for more than a second. and what would i talk to them about? either i have nothing to say on a topic or i can and will go on for hours, i nod and fiddle with a piece of grass while they talk about village life and talk so much my jaw begins to ache when they bring up books, or history, or the stories in my mind. i type easier than i talk, it's harder to get lost in spiralling tangents when i can edit my words before i show them to the world, harder to seem rude or inattentive around someone who doesn't know me when it's acceptable to reply to people as and when you feel up to it. in real life, i stumble over my words, and i fail to explain myself, and i talk too loud and too fast in an unidentifiable accent. not that many people have the patience

and what happens when the crops fail, or a disease spreads through town, or the flood barriers fail? will my community accept that sometimes these things happen and do what they can to ameliorate the problem, or will some of them do what people around here have done for centuries long after they should have known better, and blame the old, reclusive, uncanny, isolated jew?

all of which is assuming i even survive to the time when you're showing your grandchildren pictures of lawns without tomatoes. when i was young, every month i would go to the chemist and they would give me little cardboard packets of antidepressants and antipsychotics and antihistamines, a chemical cocktail my psychiatrist and i had put together through trial and error over the course of years. those medicines stopped my brain from grinding itself to death in the gears of tangled unshakeable terrifying thoughts and gave me the strength to get outside of my own head and make a mark on the world. i never asked what was in the packets, or how it was made. i never thought i'd need to know. but now - at best, i think, i'm scouring markets for expensive drugs i used to get free and easily from the government and the global supply chain. at worst... i barely got through a decade without my meds, once puberty and secondary school kicked my mental health issues into overdrive. i don't think i'd survive five more

don't get me wrong, i'm not writing this to reddit-atheist debunk your dream. i'm writing this because i read your post about the crack in the darkness through which you see a tree, and i...

seven billion people, in every corner of the planet. unless we totally break the biosphere (and i don't think that's likely, we're not half as powerful as we think), even if things get apocalyptically bad... even if not all of us survive this, mathematically, someone, somewhere, will. i think we owe that person something. people my age talk a lot about how we have no future and we're all going to die, but i've never been able to believe that. maybe it's privilege, maybe it's the kind of deliberately unthinking optimism i developed back when my fears would pile up so heavy the back of my neck would burn, but... our parents grew up thinking they'd die in a hail of nuclear fire, some of our ancestors grew up thinking the last judgment would come any minute and there was no need to think about the world around us. which is partially what got us into this mess in the first place. no one's ever made bank on the end of the world, and i'm not arrogant enough to think our generation is magically right when all our predecessors have been wrong. there will be a tomorrow. we need to prepare for it

i'd been thinking like that for a few years, already, when i read your post. but it was the first time i'd seen thoughts like that reflected back at me from someone i could see as a peer. a tumblr user, just like me, who can see a bright future ahead. i'm not into bugs or plants or north american environmental management, but i did read your blog, for hope

but then i read this, and... i'm probably projecting. i often do that, when i haven't taken my meds, get lost in rhetorical wildernesses with barely any relation to what anyone's actually said. still i can't shake the fear that the future you described, that sounded so boundless, is actually tight and constrained, horizons that barely stretch to the nearest town, where you are trapped in a community is friendly and supportive as long as you are exactly what they want you to be

it's almost certainly not what you meant. but modernity saved my life, literally and metaphorically, several times over, and the outlines of the idyllic future you sketch have taken on a shake alarmingly similar to the past i, a mentally ill autistic weirdo who grew up an outcast, child of poor english farmers who scraped the bottom of the butter tin to get every last drop and eastern european city jews who only just escaped to america before the sword of damocles finally fell, fought so hard to escape

In the future, children will think our ways are strange. "Why do old people always grow so much milkweed in their gardens?" they'll say. "Why do old people always write down when the first bees and butterflies show up? Why do old people hate lawn grass so much? Why do old people like to sit outside and watch bees?"

We will try to explain to them that when we were young, most people's yards were almost entirely short grass with barely any flowers at all, and it was so commonplace to spray poisons to kill insects and weeds that it was feared monarch butterflies and American bumblebees would soon go extinct. We will show them pictures of sidewalks, shops, and houses surrounded by empty grass without any flowers or vegetables and they will stare at them like we stared at pictures of grimy children working in coal mines