#ear pain is horrible tho at least i have pain meds

[housemarcellus]

.

[fairyhaos]

❖ take care of me anyway // yoon jeonghan

jeonghan x gn!reader, 1.7k+ words

tags: office worker!jeonghan not rlly relevant to the plot tho, sick fic, fluff, established relationship

warnings: brief fever-induced hallucinations ig?? but theyre rlly cute, pet names, reader has a cold

notes: im sick. like, 'i have a cold' sick. and i also have another sick fic planned so uhh yeah im a little Unwell in the head too

There are ten minutes left of Jeonghan’s lunch break when you finally call him.

“Hello, my darling,” he says, his tone both parts dry and amused. “How are you?”

“Sick,” you reply, and even just that word sounds horribly bunged up. “But you knew that already, didn’t you? You called in sick for me.”

Jeonghan just hums, smiling a little as he adjusts the phone against his ear, walking down the street back to his company building. “Maybe I did.”

You don’t say anything for a moment, and he can almost hear you pouting on the other end of the line. There’s a rustling sound as you adjust yourself in bed, and he sighs.

“How sick are you?”

“Very,” you say, miserably, and then give a series of harsh, wet coughs that has him wincing. “Very sick. I only just woke up, but my head is just…” You don’t finish your sentence. Just make a very pained sound like a wounded puppy.

Jeonghan chuckles. “Gee, I wonder how you managed to get so sick. It’s not like walking home in the pouring rain without a coat makes you ill, isn’t it?”

You whine at that, upset. “Han, I told you, I was gonna call you but my phone was dead. I had no choice! Wanted to get home fast to see you,” you add in a mumble, sounding dejected.

He smiles at that. “It wasn’t like I was going anywhere, though,” he points out. “I was all comfortably squished on the couch. I wasn’t gonna disappear any time soon. You could’ve taken your time. Waited for the rain to pass.”

“Yeah, but still,” you huff petulantly, then sniff. “Can you make soup when you get back home?” you ask after a beat, and sniffle again. “And also buy some tissues? And meds? And give me cuddles?”

Jeonghan chuckles at how pitiful you sound, resisting the urge to coo. “No.”

“What?” You’re whining again, and you sound all bunged up but Jeonghan just smiles, amused. “But your darling Y/N is currently suffering the worst cold in the entire world.”

“But alas, I think my darling Y/N is the sole person to blame for this cold,” Jeonghan says, lips twitching upwards. “Don't you think so?”

“Come take care of me anyway.”

“No.”

You make a noise of discontent, sheets rustling as you shift around in bed again. “Hmph. Worst boyfriend ever. I’m breaking up with you.”

That makes him laugh, the stunned sound being pulled out of him by your deadpan tone, and he grins to himself out on the street, rounding the corner until his company building is in sight. “Whatever you say,” he singsongs. “I’ll see later, okay?”

“Whatever. Bye.” A pause. “Have a nice day.”

Jeonghan smiles as you hang up, looking fondly down at your contact name. He’s standing in front of the company entrance, now, and he has three minutes of his break left. Just enough time to get into the elevator and up to his office.

He pockets his phone, turns on his heel and traipses off to find the nearest pharmacy.

───────────── 🧂

You’ve been drifting in and out of sleep the entire day, constantly stuck in that drowsy, so-sick-that-nothing-feels-real state, and you’ve hallucinated Jeonghan coming home a total of thirteen times in the past five hours.

At least, you think it’s been five hours.

Maybe it’s been less than that.

Whatever. Time is weird.

The point is, your mind is all fuzzy and everything feels like it’s floating, so when someone who looks an awful lot like Jeonghan comes into the room, you just groan. Hallucination Jeonghan #14 has come to pay you a visit, it seems, so you just frown and give him the response that you’ve given all his other clones.

“Go away. Stop trying to sell me fish.”

Hallucination Jeonghan #14 makes a confused noise at that, walking closer to your bed, leaning over to adjust your pillows and pull you up into a more upright position.

“I don’t want your fish,” you say, just in case he didn’t hear you the first time. “Stop it.”

That makes the hallucination chuckle, and his hand comes up to your forehead. 

Cold. Huh. None of the other hallucinations touched you before.

His hand drops from your forehead, swiping at the soft skin under your eyes gently, and his fingers are blessedly cool against your skin. You hadn’t realised how much you were burning up before.

“You’re really, really sick,” Hallucination Jeonghan #14 murmurs, and he sounds so concerned, before pulling out a bottle of water from one of the plastic bags he’s holding. Woah, you hadn’t even realised he was holding them. “Here, darling. Drink.”

You obediently take a sip once he uncaps the lid for you, before making small noises of distress when some of it spills down your shirt. Hallucination Jeonghan #14 (wow was it a mouthful to say, even in your head) just hushes you gently, dabbing at it with tissues that he’d procured from the plastic bags. 

“It’s okay,” he says softly, and his hands take yours, clasping them around the bottle. Once you’re holding it, he gets up, and for a horrible moment, you think this hallucination is going to leave again. You kind of like this one.

“Where’re you going?” you ask, but it comes out as more of a slur of vowels. You’re not sure he understood a word.

 “Drink up,” is all he says. He fishes out a packet of pills from the bag (it’s like a magic bag, you think blearily. It seems to have everything inside it). “Have these as well, okay? I’ll go make that soup you wanted.”

You nod, blinking. Dutifully, you sip the water that the hallucination has left you, because really this was one of the most gentle, doting, Jeonghan-like Hallucination Jeonghan and it kind of feels like he really does have your best interests at heart. 

Unlike the other Hallucination Jeonghans, who just wanted to sell you fish. This one really seemed to care about your well-being. 

You blink again, slowly. 

Oh. 

By the time Jeonghan comes back with a gently steaming bowl of chicken soup on a tray with a mug of tea, you're more lucid than before, pouting at him as he comes closer, having remembered his last words before you’d hung up the phone.

“You said you weren’t going to take care of me.”

Jeonghan doesn’t say anything, setting the tray on the bedside table, before sitting down on the edge of your bed, wordlessly picking up the bowl and spoonfeeding you some soup. You open your mouth easily, and he hums in approval with a smile.

“What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let my darling be sick all alone, hm?” he says. “I can’t do that. Especially if you’re also seeing hallucinations of me who are trying to sell you fish.”

He continues feeding you soup in tiny sips, and the entire situation feels weirdly vulnerable, with you propped up on pillows and Jeonghan making small noises of approval every time you successfully swallow a spoonful. Like you’re a little baby bird, or something.

But he smiles so lovingly at you the entire time, so it’s kind of hard to feel too embarrassed.

“Well done,” Jeonghan murmurs, once you’ve finished half of the bowl. Your boyfriend is affectionate, almost overbearingly so at times, always poking you in the side or pinching your cheeks or tweaking your nose, but the softness with which he treats you right now is a whole other level of affection entirely.

Jeonghan cares deeply for you. You know that. You’ve never doubted how much he loves you, and he never gives you reason to doubt it. But still, when he smooths down your hair and strokes the back of your hand and gazes at you so gently, it makes you realise yet again that oh God, he loves you.

“We’re going to get you to finish the rest of the soup in a minute,” he says, reaching down towards the plastic bag at his feet, “but first. I wanted you to have this.”

Out of the bag, he pulls out…

A fluffy bunny plushie.

You blink, tilting your head, sniffing in confusion and also to try and unblock your bunged up nose. “What?”

“Say hi to Jjongie,” Jeonghan says. “He came up to me when I was buying your soup, and I couldn’t not bring him home.” The bunny’s pink ears flop adorably into its eyes as he holds out the soft toy to you. It even has a cream coloured ribbon around its neck. “He’s gonna keep you company whenever I can’t be here for you.”

“Oh,” you say softly, taking Jjongie from him with a smile. You rub your thumb over the soft fur of the bunny’s cheek. “He’s adorable.”

Jeonghan beams, proud. “Of course he is. He’s a me-substitute.”

You look up at him, smiling. “Han, I—” You can’t finish your sentence, too choked up. Literally. You suddenly start coughing, hand coming up to cover your mouth, and Jeonghan rushes forward with the mug of tea and an opened box of tissues that he suddenly procured out of nowhere.

“Hey, it’s okay, no need to cry over it,” he says teasingly as you glare at him, eyes tearing up from how hard you’re coughing. You accept the tissues and, when he pushes the tea insistently in you direction, you take the mug too.

“Yeah, yeah.” You blow your nose with one hand and then drink the tea, noting with a smile the subtle notes of honey in it. “Thank you,” you add, softly, looking down at Jjongie in your lap. Jeonghan really has gone out of his way for you.

Jeonghan just shakes his head, picking up the soup bowl again. “Thank me once you get better,” he says. “You can take care of me after. I’ll probably be catching your illness from looking after you.”

You grin, blowing your nose again, and even you can’t miss the way that Jeonghan watches you, eyes devastatingly fond.

“Yeah, but you’re gonna look after me anyways, aren’t you?”

Jeonghan grins, unashamedly bright. He taps the spoon against your lips, smiling wider when you sip the soup, the mug of tea in your hands, Jjongie the bunny in your lap. 

“Duh. I love you too much not to.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @thedensworld @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @evasaysstuff @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @butiluvu @sakufilms @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @amxlia-stars @raevyng @isabellah29

[urlocalwhumper]

OK LAST ONE FOR NOW. MAYBE. DEFINITELY NOT FOR GOOD THO LOL I WILL ALMOST CERTAINLY WRITE MORE EVENTUALLY

as always, rayan belongs to @sowhumpshaped

rayan felt horrible.

nana had only been with him for a few days when he noticed that her tail was bothering her. a little glint of pain in her eye whenever it wagged, she way she took great care not to sit or lay on it, and, most recently, how she yelped and flinched away when he, idly fidgeting with her tail while sitting on the couch, brushed his fingers over the unnatural bend near the middle.

he'd wanted to give her at least a week to settle in before taking her to the vet for a check-up, but he also wasn't just going to sit there and let her suffer when she was clearly in pain.

so, off to the vet they went. nana really didn't like it there, she shook like a leaf and stayed glued to his leg for their entire time in the waiting room, and once she was up on the examination table, he had to be at least holding her hand for her to stay somewhat calm.

even the vet winced once her x-rays appeared onscreen.

"oh yeah, no wonder she's in pain." the vet grimaced. "this is a really bad break, the bone is completely shattered around where that bend is." he said, pointing on the screen to what he was talking about.

"this kind of injury... the most likely cause is crushing." the vet glanced at nana's papers and pursed his lips. "repeated impacts. like being stomped on, perhaps."

rayan felt sick. he could tell, from the look in nana's eye and the way she curled further into herself, that the vet's assumption was correct. he trailed a comforting hand across her scalp and pressed a little kiss to the crown of her head.

the vet continued. "either way, for a break this severe, there really isn't much we can do to fix it. your best option is to amputate."

nana went stiff as a board. rayan felt her breathing quicken as she started to whimper under her breath. her loose grip on his shirt turned into an iron vice and she looked up at him with a fearful, pleading gaze.

he continued to scratch at her scalp and behind her ears, soothing and gentle, but internally he was just as frazzled as she was. he was expecting the worst case scenario to be needing to re-break a badly healed bone, not amputating most of her tail.

"can... can we have some time to think about it, please?" he said, wanting to at least get nana out of the examination room and hopefully calm her down.

the vet nodded. "of course. you know how to make an appointment, once your decision has been made."

it took hours for nana to calm down fully. once they returned home, she immediately retreated to her bed, curling up under the blanket like it would hide her from the world. rayan sat beside her, nearly lost for words.

"... i'm so sorry, nana." he said, resting his hand, palm-up, on the edge of her bed. her shaking hand reached out from under the blanket and gripped it tight. "this isn't fair, you shouldn't have to deal with this at all."

he sighed. "... but... your tail's just gonna hurt forever if we don't do anything. and it might even get worse." he squeezed her hand. "getting it amputated is scary, but it's the only option we have."

he felt horrible, trying to convince her like this. he knew that if he was in her position, he'd be just as terrified and reluctant to have a part of him cut off. but, he also knew that, for her health, it needed to be done.

and when he looked over and saw her peering out at him from under the blanket, her eye hesitant but trusting, he knew that she understood too.

nana was a nervous wreck on the day of her surgery. even though he could tell she was trying to be brave, the vet informed him that she wet herself out of fear the moment she was in the prep room, completely separated from him.

but it was finally over. the amputation had been performed with no complications, and now nana was at home - short half a tail and loopy from the meds they'd given her, but no longer suffering from a painful shattered bone.

she was napping at the moment, her head in his lap as he absently pet her hair. he frowned at the bandaged end of her newly shortened tail. it was the right decision, he knew that, but... it was just so unfair. for her to lose most of her tail just because some jackass decided it'd be funny to stomp on it... it made him angry.

angry that such a monster could get a pet license, angry that they'd been so cruel to a pet as sweet and loving as nana, angry that they even existed. it made him so angry that he felt like he could just- !

nana stirred in his lap, mumbling something unintelligible and snuggling further into him. right, he needed to calm down. all of that was in the past now. right now, she was safe and comfortable and happy with him, and that was all that mattered.

[watercolourferns]

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It’s very probable I have Meniere’s. That’s it a nice prospect./s My dad lost his hearing from it. I also have allergic rhinitis and I’m on treat for that after a preliminary vertigo treatment. I need to have more tests done and I just… I’m dissociating… I’ve always had respiratory problems, even I did sports I got winded and ear and throat infections galore. So I’m kinda tired of always having something. Nasal cleanings are a hassle, meds taste horrible, I’m always tired and overwhelmed… I don’t want to lose my hearing, tho, so I go with it and do what I have to do, but it’s in autopilot… I miss sounds when they were sounds and not just something painful… my already fragile mental health is taking a toll not just from the whole treatment but also due to money concerns, how am I gonna pay for all of this?! …but at least this doctor is listening to me. Art will always be my outlet tho, even when I no longer can hear the world around me…

[justfor2am]

hi sry no dog pics today im spending the night w a friend .however i did walk for 45 minutes to a walmart (n back ofc) while also learning how to ride an electric scooter (i do not know how to ride a normal scooter. or a bike. or a skateboard. or roller skates.) it was very fun n the sunset was pretty :3 then i played beat saber n absolutely rocked at one of my favorite songs ever (nee nee nee by pinocchiop u will ALWAYS be famous in my heart 🫶) n then sucked at everything else why r custom charts almost always in expert or expert+ (my shit got completely rocked on a chart of hibana just for both my friend n their roommate to play it after me n easily clear it ..embarrassing) ANYWAYS!! hope ur day was good at least :33 food update uhhh we had pizza!! we each got our own n mine had alfredo sauce n a parmesan/asiago blend on top (i love cheese) ok bye :p just wanted 2 check in n send an ask today!!

wil im gonna level with you i am doing complete fucking ASS rn lol

i got a double middle ear infection, plus my left ear is impacted. which means i can't hear for shit, got hella pain, and have been guzzling ibuprofen like it's my last meal on this bitch of an earth. as i type this i've had several random stabbing pains in both ears, and i am moments away from clawing at the walls of my bedroom in despair

i got meds yesterday tho, which hopefully will help this shit go away. btw the american healthcare system is a sham and i hate it.

anyways: i have HORRIBLE balance so i can't ride a bike either lmao, i've always wanted to learn how to roller blade but for sure would bust my ass immediately

people that do custom beat saber charts are try hards i stg, maybe i just wanna lowkey enjoy a song without a whole ass work out (beat saber makes me dizzy as shit anyways so i can't play it lol)

waough alfredo sauce pizza........ i want pizza >:((( i can't really chew either so it's all been soft things uhhhhhh i had bacon grits earlier tho those were pretty good

kk i'm gonna try not to die bye friend

[aphrodite-would-be-proud]

omg i’m melting over your Erwin birthday headcanons !! could you do taking care of Erwin when he’s sick?

Yep! And I'm so happy you liked the birthday headcanons, i tried to make his friends included in it as much as i can.

And oh👀a sick Erwin would be a rare sight to see, tho I'm like 90% sure he'd be one of those people who never get the yealry flue but when he does, his health takes a massive hit.

Taking care of sick Erwin

{ Erwin x reader | tw:sickness | fluff, reverse comfort | modern }

{ "Drift off to Dream" by Daniel F. Gerhartz 1965-alive }

You noticed something was wrong when your phone alarm went off in the morning and Erwin was still sleeping beside you.

Or at least you thought he was asleep with his face buried in the pillow, untill he reached over you to turn the phone alarm off without a word.

He's got a horrible headache, each source of noise or light being too painful to handle. And so you close the curtains and sit next to him, asking if he wants you to get him some painkillers.

You ask him how does he feel while gently stroking his hair, his face still in the pillow. You heard a muffled "horrible"

Attempting to get up, you didn't get very far before he held your hand, slightly turning and bringing it to his face.

"Stay please" he says, voice sounding weak and hoarse, leaving a small kiss on the inside of your hand.

How could you say no?

Pulling you back into bed, he wraps his arms around you and hugs you into his chest. You can hear his heartbeat slowing down as he drifts back to sleep.

Giving him a few more hours of peace before having to get up and deal with life again, you too close your eyes.

It's the ringing of his phone that wakes you up, him still soundly asleep next to you. It takes some effort to reach the phone with his hands still holding you so close to him like you're the air he needs to breath.

Still sleepy, you don't read the name before answering. Without letting you get a word out, Levi goes off on a lecture while scolding you for being so irresponsible, how you should be an example for the rest and dont just ditch work whenever your lazy ass feels like it.

He ends it with "tch, don't even have anything to say for yourself Erwin?"

You're not Erwin.

Erwin is still sleeping next to you. And so you tell him that, before explaining the situation.

"Oh, sorry should've checked." Is all he offers you for the most harsh scolding you've gotten in your life.

But he doesn't hang up, instead he guides you through checking Erwin's temperature, what meds to get and what things he needs to eat and drink.

You make sure to write it all down, he also tells you what things you’ll need to wash daily from now.

Lastley he tells you to stay by his side if you can, Erwin doesn't get sick often but whenever he does it effects him greatly. He'll make sure to drop by after work to get you all the necessary meds and personally scold Erwin this time.

Hanging up the phone, you notice the pair of blue eyes staring up at you, rising an eyebrow.

"Y/n my love, Come back to bed"

How could someone sound so sick but assertive at the same time?

You stand your ground, telling him he needs to eat something.

After managing to escape Erwin's mind games and negotiation skills because he was too tired to be able to think properly, you make it to the kitchen.

While eating breakfast in bed, Erwin keeps looking at you. Every bone in his body hurts too much right now and the ringing headache won't leave him be, he wants nothing but for you to stay beside him.

If he could just lay and cuddle you all day he would, the sickness clouding his usual rational thinking as he sets the food tray aside and just pulls you against him again.

Successfully trapping you, he rations how since Levi is coming anyway, you could just stay beside him and leave the rest for his friend to take care of.

He also brings up some how some scientific researchs actually showed how emotional support is one of the most important things during recovery.

You have your doubts about what's he's preaching, but the way he whispers honeyed words into your ears while holding you oh so gently, sways you to stay.

This is what Eve must have felt looking at the apple.

Sharing the same fate, you too fall to Erwin's husky voice and sugary promises.

Part of you thinks making you answer Levi's call was part of his plan all long

[mrpenguinpants]

Have you heard Xiao's growl? What do you think of it? Ugh the poor boi has suffered so much 😭

Quick edit: I wrote this first part before listening to jp growl if you’re confused. I went on a complete tangent I’m sorry anon haha. 

---

If the “growl” is his ptsd idle voiceline then yes. I’ve heard it way too often. And I’m a horrible person because it makes me laugh every time. I play windowed because I usually need to tab out and do other things (fucking crying in gbf right now. My crew wants everyone to get minimum 150M honours. Can we please fucking calm down, it’s midterms). But genshin is just running in the background and even if I’m tabbed out, sound will still play. So I’ll be dying on the grind train and I’ll hear Xiao dying in the background and honestly, same. 

It just comes out of no where and I can’t help it. It’s such a weird guttural sound that it makes me laugh. I can at least say it doesn’t annoy the piss out of me. Every time I use Childe and I hear “You know, there are better ways to seek out our enemies”- shut the fuck up Childe. But it’s also super awkward as well hearing some guy dying in my left ear. 

I’ve only played in cn but going back to listen to other languages. English was okay? I don’t really like the english voice the same reason I don’t like Klee and Razor’s english voice. I have nothing against the voice actors because voice acting is hard but it’s just not my style. It sounds so awkwardly forced? Which is weird because Xiao’s “normal talking” voice I actually really like in english. When it’s less raspy and forced. I think Klee is the best example. I know people think her english voice is cute and but it just sounds too much like an adult forcing their voice (which it is) to sound like a child and its really obvious. So it’s this huge difference that makes me not like it. 

This isn’t me hating on english, I actually prefer a lot of character’s english voices over other languages such as Mona (I love smug mona), but I think it mainly stems from the fact that I have only heard english for most of my life. All my Chinese interactions were from family. I think once you know and hear a language enough you can pick up on inflections and just, how people normally talk, that when people emphasis things in how they say things, it’s so obvious. It could also be that imo, english is the most expressive compared to the other languages. Which isn’t a bad thing at all, like I said before, I love Mona’s english voice because of that. 

Every other language sounds pretty generic. I love jp’s talking voices across the board (there isn’t a single jp voice I dislike) but that’s because I don’t know jp enough to pick up on emphasis or “voice acting” that everything just sounds generic to me. Korean is actually really nice, Paimon’s korean voice is my favourite, but I am so unused to hearing korean that the language itself kinda bothers me? It was the same when I found out genshin had a chinese language option. I’ve never heard chinese in a game before, that when I made the switch, it made me super uncomfortable but after playing genshin for so long I’ve gotten used to it that it doesn’t bother me. 

But getting back on track, Chinese sounds like he has actual gutteral pain and I will never get over it. It makes me laugh even more when I remember Zhongli wanted to give him pain meds. Korean sounds better but HOLY FUC- JP. Ahem. Okay, remember when I said I thought chinese xiao was slept on? I mean, that’s still true, but I might switch to jp just for this. It’s so different from the other languages because he sounds mad compared to suffering. Honestly, I feel like English and Japanese voice him as as this self-berating and anger issues person but is honestly a really calm person when he isn’t getting ptsd. That he’s mad at being possessed in the first place.

Meanwhile, Chinese and possibly Korean make him out to be this “calm before the storm” sort of vibes. Pretty relaxed but he’s actually dying on the inside. Actual, physical pain. That instead of being angry at being possessed, he’s still dealing with those physical and mental side effects of what he did. If that makes sense? This is all my opinion tho. 

Side note:

When you're doing the ritual for his story quest, he says "close enough" when you finish. But in chinese he says [马马虎虎] (im like 99% sure this is what he says) or "mǎ mǎ hǔ hǔ". The literal translation is {horse horse tiger tiger}. It is used to describe something that is neither outstanding nor terrible; just so-so. Or a haphazard management of something. But Xiao most likely meant that  although the ritual arrangement seems haphazard and a bit clumsy, it's still doable and can make do with.

I love that xiao talks so informal then as soon as he starts the ritual he sounds like fucking zhongli. HE'S SOOO RUDE IN ENGLISH I love it. 

[shesmorethanfibro]

Question, so usually I at least take a nap everyday or else I’m even more exhausted. Well lately, I have not been able to sleep at all. I am exhausted, but lay down, sometimes start getting more sharp pains (mostly when tho the fan is on or window is open, the cold air hitting me it gets worse, only when I napping tho, weird) , sometimes feel like i have super hearing like every little noise is happening right next to my ear like it’s damn hypersensitivity non stop, but mostly just can’t fall asleep, like at all. It doesn’t happen at night because I take meds that help me or else I have horrible insomnia. So, could this be like a type of flare since it’s been a week or two of this? Before it used to be where I had horrible sharp pains where I just couldn’t sleep because it hurt so bad when I was trying to nap.

So could this be a type of flare??? Are there types of flares other than just the pain ones. I’ve been in a pain flare but idk if this then is an addition to the pin?

[rikkisixx]

rant ahead

so heres where im at

im still looking for work. thankfully im still getting unemployment but after rent for the month, it only leaves me about $100 a month in gas, non-food groceries, meds, bills, etc. which obvs is not enough. 

my car didnt pass deq so i have to get an estimate to find out what it will take to get it to pass. 

i had received a check just prior to being let go for my migraine study that was initially meant to pay for my plane ticket to Massachusetts where i am to be maid of honour for my best friend in july. that money all had to go toward bills. my hope was to get enough back in taxes to just cover the plane ticket and i could worry about the rest over time. 

my refund is not great but would probably cover MOST of my travel.

however, my BELOVED parents keep telling me that if i pay for this plane ticket instead of paying them back for the money they’ve loaned me during this, that, in no certain terms, ill be cut off. i respectfully informed them that i understand that my circumstances may prevent me from going, that i have time to pay them back but only one opportunity to see my best friend marry (and be the maid of fucking honour), but these words fall on deaf ears. 

i even went so far as to tell them how i am in a very dark and bad place and that wedding is giving me hope. something i desperately need. so i dont kill myself. 

pretty serious statement, even surprised me but in that moment, as it happened, i knew it was true, not just an attempt to sway their opinions. 

the next day my mother spend time with my sister. the day after that, i visited my sister, my great niece, and the puppers. i found out that my mother was still going on about being angry about the wedding, in spite of having spent NOTHING on it so far.  and in spite of my sister agreeing that this is a once in a lifetime event vs paying them back is going to take quite a bit of time anyway. and the choice to go to the wedding isnt IN LIEU of paying them back altogether, its a delay for a chunk to be repaid. 

but here’s the best part guys... after everything I said... the first thing she said to my sister about my visit...

it looks like ive gained weight.

thats right folks, step aside for parents of the year. I heard my daughter cry and tell me shes in a bad place and assure me for the 654123rd time that she hasn’t spent money on this wedding yet, but you know what i heard? or saw? FAT.

oh and it gets better! prior to the joys of tax day, my mother and other sister had spent a considerate amount of time discussing how i probably wont fit into an airline seat. My mother apparently even googled the fucking measurements for first, business and coach class seats. 

so if i dont get to go, is this how they propose to console me? well, you wouldn’t have fit anyway! no harm no foul!

but they dont get it. for one, not going would not only be DEVASTATING to me, it would be horrible for my best friend who is COUNTING ON ME. I already did my research on airlines seats and big person policies IN CASE i dont fit. cos we dont actually know if i do or not. my chub tends to stack in the front and back of me more than spilling out the sides so its possible that all ill need is a fucking seatbelt extender. 

and im sorry, when your CHILD says theyre not in a good place and even mentions suicide in passing.. .MAYBE THE FOCUS SHOULDNT BE THE WEIGHT. its certainly not out of concern for my health, ive shown them repeatedly that my lab results are excellent. and apart from some back and knee pain, my weight doesnt really have much effect on my health. MY MENTAL HEALTH ON THE OTHER HAND HAS A GREAT DEAL OF EFFECT. 

my own parents cant see past my appearance and one sister would rather join in on the gossip than lose their approval. at least thats what i suspect.

so yea. i tried to drink away the thoughts in my head last night but it didnt work. i was just sad all night long. i slept like ten hours last night. i havent been able to afford my meds in over a month either, so im sure im feeling things 465231 times greater than i need to be. 

and even tho IM okay with me, just knowing how my family sees me is like... so harmful to me. i just dont even know what to do anymore. im giving up. 

[sicklylittlesnowflake]

I don't know wether or not you ship bughead but here's a prompt anyway- how about one where jughead is homeless and on the street and he's really sick and there's a really big storm and the thunder doesn't help his headache and the rain gets him really wet and he ends up at Betty's window and she takes care of him. You're writing is amazing so I thought I would drop you and idea!

(Hey honey! Im sorry but I personally don’t ship these two, it’s just not for me but I do adore their dynamic in a friendship kind of way so I still wanted to write this bc I like this a lot!! Hope that’s ok with you!! While this is written to be strictly platonic I guess you could read this through ship goggles if you want tho!)

What exactly is a home?

Jughead thinks about this over and over again, hoping that maybe eventually he’ll find the answer, but the question only becomes more frustrating and probes him so much that it’s like it’s stabbing him repeatedly.

He is a Type 5 on the enneagram, he is an investigator, he needs to push the limits of understanding. Jughead craves answers and knowledge, he is fuelled by the desire to understand the world he is born to, to gain knowledge on the nature of his kind.

Jughead is plagued by this question, it stings him because he doesn’t know the answer. In the most human way possible, he cannot understand what he’s never known. Will he ever get the answer? Or is he just doomed and destined to never have a home, always a loner on the sidetracks, watching the world go by, seeing a lot but never experiencing?

Jughead had built a wall so thick around himself that he doesn’t understand his own feelings; is he genuinely this sad about life or is this just the fever that plagues his body? There is a sadness that looms over him as the cold rain splatters on his skin, soaking his skin and dampening his bones.

The rain pours harder, raining down on him hard and harsh like a waterfall, causing him to sprint towards the closest tree. He feels so miserable he doesn’t even know if the droplets on his face are his own tears or the rain. Maybe a mixture of both.

He cowers under the tree, the little bit of shelter the tree does provide a much needed change. The rain still leaks through, a lighter sprinkling of rain still hitting his bitterly cold, pale skin. He’s so cold he’s numb, goosebumps and snow white skin. He shivers and trembles violently, sniffling wetly as he rubs at his nose weakly.

It’s just his luck this is happening to him. Perhaps this was just the satirical, darkly comedic plot of his life. He often wondered if perhaps all of Earth was merely an entertainment show like some weird Truman Show type and his particular life story was created for those sadistic types who liked watching people be sad.

Sleeping on park benches was bound to get him sick. He knew it was coming, besides, even if he did have a roof to live under he would still be sick anyway because that’s the way his cruel body worked.

Being sick and homeless and having to sleep on a park bench was horrible enough, in his opinion, but of course, of course, that wasn’t enough. Of course it had to pour lashing rain.

A drop of water fell down one of the tree leaves, delicately dropping on Jughead’s already sensitive nose. His nose twitched, and suddenly his breath was hitching and he was inhaling sharply to pitch forward with an explosive, congested sneeze. He groaned, thinking he was done when a piece of his hair fell onto his nose and tickled it further, causing him to explode with two more harsh, wet sneezes. He doesn’t even care about how loud he is, he’s sick and miserable, he shouldn’t have to restrain his powerful sneezes. The universe owes him that at the very least.

Jughead pushed the hair away from his nose frustratedly, scrunching his nose to get rid of the irritating tickle. He rubs at his reddened nose, cringing as he feels a little bit of wetness in it, but hey, nobody can see how disgusting he is now. He groans, and lets out a chorus of congested little coughs that stab at his chest.

He slides down against the tree miserably, sniffling wetly as he wipes his runny nose on his soaked sleeve. He shakes violently, teeth chattering and hugging himself (wow, is that how pathetic he’s gotten?). Despite how cold he’s feeling, there’s a little bit of warmth radiating off him from a sure fever that he’s had the whole day. He feels woozy and definitely very off, very feverish and generally unwell. He just wants this night to end.

Jughead is thinking about all the happy (or seemingly happy) little families of Riverdale all bundled up in their blankets and nice heaters to brave this storm. He hopes that fantasising about it would make him feel a little warmer. After another obnoxiously loud sneeze, he’s accepted that he’s doomed to a night of the freezing cold and rain when a flash of lightning blinds him, then he hears the thunder loudly rumbling shortly after.

The sound explodes in his ears, chilling him even further than he is so he turns to ice. The lightning that flashes in front of him blinds him, leaving him petrified and paralysed, terrified.

His breathing starts to pick up, his blood running cold as his chest suddenly becomes heavy, and it’s not from his cough. He’s being suffocated, as anxiety rushes throughout his body and shutting him down as his breathing is shallow and barely enough oxygen is being supplied in his system. He feels faint.

One of the many consequences of being homeless is that Jughead is off his anxiety meds; and going through his day to day is hard enough, but something like a loud storm offsetting his anxiety? It’s cruel.

Jughead knows he can’t stay here, but there is literally nowhere to go. The strike of light flashes in his eyes and jars him,  he feels faint and weak. The thunder is growling again and the explosion of sound rattles his brain and intensifies his headache. The pain is enough for him to leave the sanctuary that is his tree and he’s sprinting. Running as fast as his sick body can, letting his feet take him wherever they’re planning.

Running burns at his chest, because Jughead can barely breathe because he’s sick and anxious and he’s also incredibly unfit. He skips gym for a reason. As he runs he coughs harshly, spluttering as he runs his heart out.

Then suddenly he’s coming to a halt, as his foot miscalculates a step and lunges out too far, and he’s slipping on the slippery pavement, out of the somewhat firm grass. He slips across the road, managing to save his chin with his arms. He’s scraped, and a short sensation of pain rushes through him.

Exhausted, he is face down against the road. He’s too sick and too tired, his chest heavy from anxiety, but he can’t just sleep on the road like this. The thunder and lightning wake him up again, as well as intensify his headache.

Jughead lifts his head up, and sees two familiar houses that leave him feeling just a tad warmer.

By instinct his gaze shifts over to Archie’s house, he thinks about his best friend who he has just rekindled with, and the kindness of Fred Andrews. But then he remembers why they were split apart in the first place, Grundy, and how Archie does not need another problem right now. Archie needs time to heal.

Then his gaze pans over to the sweet, American Dream of a house. The Cooper household.

It’s not the same kind of warmth he thinks of when he sees Archie’s house, but it still warmth, and it’s just as good. And Jughead is so cold, and he needs it.

Jughead coughs, picking himself off the ground and approaching the household. He doesn’t even know what time it is, and if Betty is still awake, but his heart cannot take this storm.

He staggers and stumbles over to the Cooper house, his body racked by his violent shivering. His legs shake, barely supporting himself and he needs to take his time. He sniffles, running a finger under his nose and shuffles through the damp, glistening grass. Jughead spots a ladder just sitting outside, next to a bunch of hardware tools. He speculates it’s just Hal Cooper fixing up the house.

A thought crosses his mind and Jughead is against it, it’s awfully cliche and disgustingly Nicholas Sparks-esque and not him, he’s not into that, but there is literally no other way. He gets a grip on the ladder and carefully uproots it, and balances it on the window he knows by heart is Betty Cooper’s. He’s spent most of his life in Archie Andrews’ bedroom, he knows who the window across from his belongs to.

Once he thinks the ladder is steady, Jughead stifles a forceful cough into his sodden sleeve, it scrapes against his throats and burns. He escalates the ladder slowly, the ladder eerily shaking slightly as his body trembles from the cold, and as he is almost to the top his nose tickles, of course. Jughead is bad at stifling, and always needs his hands to do it, but his hands are firmly balancing himself on the ladder and if he lets go to stifle, he’ll fall down and cause a commotion. But if he sneezes freely, the loud sound would also cause a commotion.

Jughead can’t think of what to do because his body is bracing itself to sneeze and somehow he managed a harsh stifle that sounds so painful, and most definitely is painful. It scrapes against his throat horridly and leaves a dull ache in his sinuses. Someone stirs within the household, and Jughead freezes.

Betty Cooper makes her presence known by checking her window, and when she looks out she widens her eyes at the sight. Jughead manages a weak, sheepish but charming smile at her. He can faintly hear her soft gasp as she yanks the window open, and offers him a hand and helps him into her bedroom.

She doesn’t know where to start, whisper screaming, “Jughead?! You’re soaked!”

He smirks, “I figured you would appreciate me putting aside my pretentiousness and give it up for a more cliché, romantic Romeo type exterior.”

Betty rolls her eyes playfully, “Yuck, I don’t want a Romeo like you. I’d prefer someone who wasn’t quite a wreck, thank you very much.”

Jughead laughs a little at that, knowing full well romance wasn’t for him. It never was, and he wasn’t quite sure if it ever will. It was a funny joke though, in an ironic kind of sense.

Jughead shivers intensely, wrapping soaked arms around himself in an attempt to keep himself warm and Betty frowns.

She places a hand on Jughead’s forehead, he’s too weak to protest like he usually would, and her frown is worsened, “You’re burning up! What are you doing in the rain like this, you idiot?”

Jughead stifles a series of congested coughs into his shoulder, and looks up at her blearily and whispers, “I promise I just need to stay here while it rains, just for tonight, I’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow morning.”

Betty looks at him with a look he can’t quite decipher–a weird mix of sympathy, confusion, heartbreak and understanding. One thing Jughead loves about her is that unlike Archie, bless him, she is less naive and is better at reading in between the lines, and doesn’t blurt out things by accident that doesn’t help. Because Betty doesn’t question him, she doesn’t say anything.

She opens her drawers and pulls out an oversized t shirt she had gotten at a camp and a big sweatshirt she got at some volunteering event, and a pair of bigger sweatpants that she wears when it’s cold. She hopes it will fit him, and passes them over to him.

“I’m going to get you some tea and medicine, get changed into these while I’m  gone, you’re soaked to the bone,” She fussed worriedly, her voice low and whispery.

Jughead shakes his head violently, “No no no, you don’t have to..your parents..”

Betty lets out a fond chuckle, “Jughead, trust me, I know the ins and outs of this place. I am a pro at not waking my parents, I will be just fine.”

“Betty–” Jughead protests but Betty has already left him to his own devices.

He sighs guiltily, sniffling again and coughing chestily, feeling his lungs strain and feel blocked from phlegm. He groaned softly and quickly stripped his wet clothing off him and dried himself off with a towel. He donned the soft, warm and fresh clothing given to him and couldn’t help the soft moan of relief as his body warmed up a little. He felt comforted and warm in these new clothes.

Jughead quietly pushes the window open again, and wrings out his wet clothing out of the window–and when he finishes he folds them carefully and skilfully. He shakes his backpack out of the window too to get the water out of it, and places the backpack on the floor when he finishes. While waiting, he grabs at the towel he used to dry himself off to start drying at his dark, wet hair which was surely going to be a huge curly mess once it dried.

Betty slowly and nimbly reenters the room,  a steaming cup of tea and medicine in her hands.

Jughead smiles to greet her but the smile is wiped off his face quickly as his nose twitches irritably, as he inhales sharply and buries his face into the towel he was holding to muffle two explosions.

“Bless you,” Betty chuckles and sets the tray down on a table. “You know, for a person so quiet, you really can’t sneeze quietly.”

Jughead chuckled and sniffles, his voice stuffed up and an octave lower, he sounds pathetic, “I guess it makes up for all my time sulking alone.”

Betty stifles her hearty laughter, a little upset she can’t laugh louder because she can’t wake her parents. She reaches for a box of tissues neatly placed by her bedside table and chucks it at him.

“Wow, I can’t believe you can’t appreciate the wonderful, chocolatey huskiness of my voice, do you really want to get rid of it so easily?” Jughead jokes emptily, his jokes not quite as full, feeling hollow and like he’s not even there. He’s clearly not doing too good, and Betty is only now realising that he’s shaking and his breathing is definitely very off.

She watches him worriedly as she picks up the medicine packet and opens it up and gets a pill, and she picks up the tea cup. Jughead blows his nose weakly, the sound sounding horribly sickly. She frowns again and passes the medicine and the tea.

Jughead utters a small thank you before popping the pill into his mouth and downing the pill with the tea. The warmth of the liquid is remarkably soothing against his raw throat, and the warming sensation spreads throughout his body and he feels a lot better. But Betty is frowning at how Jughead’s hands shake as he sips at the tea.

Jughead’s chest is still heavy, and it still hurts to breathe and there’s still a cold pang in the middle of his chest. He puts down the tea and his lip trembles, trying to calm himself down but then he can hear the loud crackling of the thunder again and he starts to lose control. His breathing is erratic, and he can’t hide the look of terror in his face any longer.

Betty kneels down next to him, and slowly reaches for his hands, “Is this okay?”

Jughead nods weakly, and lets her take his hands and rub little circles into them comfortingly.

This situation has happened between them many times before, but it hadn’t happened since they were children. They are childhood friends, after all, they’ve seen each other grow. Betty’s been with Jughead when he’s had panic attacks like this, and while Archie literally didn’t know what to do there was some instinct in her that somehow understood. When they were all 13 Jughead started taking medicine and they didn’t happen as much. Betty wonders why they’ve started again, and the answer her brain gives her is one that she doesn’t like.

Jughead is looking away, eyes darting to the ceiling and to the floor.

“Hey, can you look at me?” Betty says softly, and Jughead does. He looks up at her and the kindness in her eyes is enough for him to steady himself so slightly and she’s so firm and confident that he feels a little more assured. Safe.

“Can you try and copy me? Take your time,” She whispers coaxingly, taking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly. Jughead tries to copy her, he is ragged and off rhythm for a little bit, but eventually he matches with her rhythm.

“You’re doing so well, Juggie,” Betty reassures. He feels a little more alive then, now that his body was taking in the oxygen it needed to survive.

He lets out shaky breaths, concentrating on a steady rhythm, and eventually his chest hurts a lot less. He’s a lot lighter. He coughs harshly into his sleeve, restraining the sound so he doesn’t wake Betty’s parents, but it strains his throat.

Jughead picks up the tea again, and sips at it and cherishes the hot liquid that flows down his throat and massages it.

“God, Jug, you should’ve come sooner, being sick in the rain like that was a dumb move,” She whispers as she boops him on his sensitive nose playfully.

A tickle creeps up on him and he pinches his nose and stifles three sneezes, letting out a soft groan when he finishes.

“Bless you,” Betty whispers, stifling her giggles. She leans in again to for his temperature; he’s burning up, but it’s not too bad. Jughead knows if he hadn’t come at all, he would be a lot worse. Betty seems to think the same.

“I’m glad you came to me tonight,” She whispers softly, her eyes kind and genuine.

She chuckles softly, getting up to drape a blanket over him, “Knowing you, your most likely action would be to hide under a tree the whole night.”

Jughead manages a shaky chuckle, pulling the blanket closer around him, letting the warmth blanket him so he can bask in its warmth, “You know, I was going to.”

Betty smirked, “and what changed your mind?”

His eyes soften, “The storm. I..it was too loud and..uh, my heart couldn’t take it.”

He feels so vulnerable, and he detests it. He loathes being outside of the safe walls he has built for himself, as much as they make him feel stifled, being outside of them makes him feel watched and judged and so alienated. Even more detached than he already is.

“Edgy Jughead Jones can’t handle a storm,” Betty jokes.

Jughead can’t help but smile, she knows him so well. She knows that the most she can do for him is to take him away from all of this.

Betty softens a little, and sighs, “But..you do know the obligatory ‘what’s going on’ speech is going to have to happen, right?”

Jughead nods.

“So, what’s going on?”

Jughead feels a pang of pain strike through his chest, tears prick his eyes and he looks away. He doesn’t know where to start, so overwhelmed by it all because he doesn’t know  what’s going on in his life. He’s never asked himself that question, he’s too scared to confront it in fear that if he lets it in, it will never come out again.

“I’m not ready to talk about it,” Jughead chokes out weakly, unsure if all the things happening to him is simply catching up to him or if the fever is speaking.

Betty doesn’t press him.

Her gaze is soft and understanding, but firm, “Alright. Okay but promise me you will, maybe not today, maybe not to me, but you will talk about this. Promise?”

She holds her pinky out just like when they children.

Jughead finds himself intertwining his pinky with hers, and he nods. Perhaps he is just looking for that relief and memory of his lost childhood, but something about how kind Betty is to him makes him genuinely promise.

Times like these make Jughead remember that his life isn’t just a Shakespearean tragedy, he has friends who love him. Friends who will always be there for him.

“Promise,” Jughead smiles.

Betty smiles at him sadly, “..So..do you know what you’re doing?”

Jughead shrugs, “I’ll..figure it out when tomorrow comes.”

This is the way his life has gone, living each day by day, any sense of security completely gone.

“..I always do.”

Betty reaches out, her hand comforting on his arm. Her smile is so warm and welcoming, “But you don’t have to do it alone.”

He doesn’t really know what to say, because a few tear spills from his eyes and he lets out a shaky breath, managing a weak smile.

‘What makes a home?’ he thinks.

Jughead’s not really sure if he’s ever going to be able to answer the question, (maybe there are some things he will never truly understand, he can only experience), but this is the closest answer he can get for now. That’s alright with him.