#guess who has PNEUMONIA!

[rubyroboticalt]

me: man i havent had the executive function to do anything lately whats up with that

the pnefarious anglerfish:

[id in alt tex]

[flickeringflame216]

anti biotics? you don't like bacteria? flagella attack 🦠🦠🦠🦠

[skyward-floored]

Oof I love feeling like I’m nearly coughing up a lung ACK

[cpvnksabm]

every time something happens to me im like this is actually a good research opportunity. i could make this happen to the character now

[afataldesign]

Sorry for being less active. I got super preoccupied with school work and musical rehearsals (the show was super awesome btw! We did suessical) Should have more free time in the coming weeks

Expect an info post soon :3

[headspace-hotel]

My mamaw has the book right now so I won't be able to read it for a little bit but my mom read The Worst Hard Time by Timothy Egan which is about the Dust Bowl and it puts in perspective all the environmental books I was reading from the 1940's and 1950's and the sense of agitation and intensity in them.

Everyone is like yeah yeah the dust bowl we've all heard of it, but the Dust Bowl was apocalyptic. The USA practically eliminated the bison—we are talking thousands of square miles of land littered with bones, enormous pyramids of skulls—and committed genocide against their caretakers, and then settlers ripped up the prairie grasses (which protected meters of top soil) with plows

And what happened was, half the country became in engulfed in horrific dirt storms that turned the sky black and reduced visibility to a few feet. Even indoor environments were full of deep drifts of dirt. When it rained, it rained mud instead of water. In ENGLAND the snow was RED because of DIRT. People died from pneumonia because they were breathing the dirt into their lungs.

Even before mom started reading this book, I was reading American books about the environment from the mid 20th century, and they are animated with the zeal and terror of people who have realized that human mismanagement could make the USA literally uninhabitable. I realized, "Oh. This is right after the Dust Bowl." cause of how they talk about erosion, and I realized just how formative the Dust Bowl was in terms of environmental policy.

Reading about various wildlife species, I realized also how utterly apocalyptic the conditions of the past were for animals. Deer were almost eliminated from my state. Deer.

Why do we have the Migratory Bird Treaty Act? Because just about every large bird species almost went extinct from uncontrolled commercial hunting. We almost had no swans, no cranes, no egrets, no storks. We lost the passenger pigeons and Carolina parakeets, but we could have lost Basically Everything.

So many of the ill-conceived decisions to introduce species to this continent are easily explained by how apocalyptic this period of time was. Why did we think it was a good idea to introduce Kudzu? Because in the 1950's, erosion sparked a visceral apprehension of CERTAIN DOOM, and logging had made the whole southeast start washing away! Why were so many exotic antelopes introduced to Texas? Because every native large animal was almost wiped out!

From my other readings on the subject (Changes in the Land by William Cronon is a good one) devastating environmental destruction started just about as soon as Europeans started controlling the land, and I am guessing that if you examined the timeline of environmental disaster alongside the migrations west, it would support the argument that settlers started pushing west more and more rapidly because of land degradation and environmental disaster.

I wish this was commoner knowledge, getting to where we are now has been a journey. Environmental history doesn't start in 1970's.

It is not the case that things have steadily gotten worse over time and recently are becoming extremely bad, rather, different parts of the environment have become both better and worse in steps forward and backward, and many seemingly unremarkable things around us were earned by a vicious fight, which we can learn from and continue...

[janeyseymour]

Love Thy Neighbor one shot where ellie calls mel mom for the first time in front of all the abbott family, maybe she gets sick at school and calls for her mom and when reader and mel show up she refuses to got with reader and they realize it’s mel she’s talking about

bestie. i got you.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10. Part 11. Part 12.

Title Change

WC: ~2.65k

Every year, right around the holidays, Ellie gets sick with whatever is running rampant through the school. And every year, you absolutely dread that time. It could be just the stereotypical, run of the mill fever, but it could also be the flu, a stomach bug, strep throat, pneumonia, pink eye… the worst was right before you moved out of Utah and she ended up with croup and in the hospital overnight. You’re pretty sure you’ll never be able to get the images or sounds from that experience out of your head. Seeing your little girl down for the count is so hard for you, and it doesn’t get any easier as she gets older- she’s still the same little love bug that you remember fussing over when her temperature ran a bit too high for your liking and she would fall asleep at a moment’s notice on your chest.

This year, she gets sick without fail, although you hate to admit that neither you nor your girlfriend had picked up on it when you brought her with you to school today. Her cheeks were a bit rosy this morning as you walked into Abbott, yes- but this December has been particularly cold so far and she had insisted on running around in her t-shirt and shorts this morning despite the fact that the living room was a crisp 65 degrees this morning when you woke up. And then on top of that, you were running a bit late and didn’t get your usual parking spot close to the front of the school.

Your little girl had been adamant that she stay attached to Melissa’s hip while the three of you sat in the staff lounge before everyone else comes in, which is not an uncommon occurrence. It’s warm and peaceful until Janine comes in with cookies for her students, and inevitably one for your daughter. Ellie begs you to let her have it, and you chuckle before relenting. It turns out that was the last think she needs because she’s running circles around the shorter second grade teacher within five minutes. Thankfully though, the time comes where the child high on sugar is no longer you’re problem- she’s now her teachers problem. The two of you walk her down to her first grade classroom before the rest of the kiddos trickle in.

“Be a good girl today, little miss,” you crouch down and open your arms.

Ellie’s arms are around your neck and squeezing you tight. “I always am, Momma.”

“I know, but I’m just reminding you,” you chuckle as you kiss her forehead. It’s a bit warm, but nothing that is too alarming. You release her, and it’s your girlfriend’s turn.

“Love you, kiddo,” Melissa embraces your daughter.

“I love you too,” the seven year old sighs as she rests her head on the second grade teacher’s shoulder for a few seconds. And then she’s bouncing into her classroom and greeting her teacher with the gusto that only a little girl who had a cookie at seven in the morning could have. You and the redhead chuckle as you watch before you loop an arm around your girlfriend and walk down to your little corner of the hallway.

“Did she feel a little warm to you?” Melissa asks you quietly.

You shrug. “A little, but she was also running circles around Janine not five minutes ago.”

“I guess,” she says softly. “I just know you said she always gets sick right before the holidays, and with everything going around…”

“God,” you groan. “I’ve had five kids out at the minimum everyday this week. I’m praying to God Ellie doesn’t get sick for break.”

“Knock on wood,” Melissa sighs as she knocks against her door. “But if she does get sick, we’ll be here for her.”

“Until I get sick with it too because she insists on laying on me,” you quip quietly.

The redhead kisses your temple. “And I’ll be here to take care of you.”

“It’s still insane to me that you haven’t been sick in over ten years.”

“It’s one of the few benefits I get for being in this germ breeding ground for so long,” Melissa chuckles.

Your kiddos come in and start on their morning work, and all is fine and normal until your classroom phone starts to ring. That’s unusual. Nobody ever uses the classroom phones because your crew will just call or text your personal phone, or they’ll just make the trip down to your end of the hallway. Honestly, the only people who really use the classroom phones are… the nurses.

“Hello?” you answer, and you pray to God it’s the nurse calling about the student that you had just sent down to the nurse’s office five minutes ago. But June comes walking back into the classroom right on time to confirm that this phone call isn’t about her.

“Hey.” It’s Ellie’s teacher.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I just wanted to call and ask if Ellie was feeling okay when you brought her into school today?”

You exhale a heavy breath. “She was running around the apartment this morning singing Frozen and ran circles around Janine in the lounge this morning, so I would say so. Why?”

“Poor thing’s been shivering at her desk for the last twenty minutes while we’ve been doing word work,” your coworker says quietly. “I asked her if she had a sweater with her, but she said she left it with you.”

“Send her down,” you tell the woman.

“Will do,” the first grade teacher nods into the phone. “Thanks.”

Ellie appears in your doorway a few minutes later. Your third graders immediately start cooing over how adorable she is.

“Hey, baby girl,” you smile at her from your place at the front of the room. “Come to get your sweater?”

She nods before coughing a bit. You frown a bit, the lines in your forehead etching their way into your face. You tell your students to work through the next math problem while you attend to your little girl.

As you help her pull on her sweater, you whisper to her, “You feeling okay?” You press your hand against her forehead, and then her cheeks, and then her neck. She does feel warmer than she had earlier this morning.

“Jus’ cold,” Ellie mumbles.

“Okay, baby,” you sigh softly. “Well, you tell your teacher if you aren’t feeling well, and I can always take you home, yeah?”

“I’ll be okay, Momma,” your daughter tells you. “I’m tough like… like Mel.”

You chuckle a bit before kissing her head. “Okay, sweetness. But still, if you aren’t feeling well, that’s okay.”

“M’kay, Momma,” you little girl sighs as she holds her arms out to hug you. “I love you.”

“I love you too, little one,” you whisper as you kiss her still somewhat chubby cheek. “Head on back to class, and I’ll see you at the end of the school day, okay?”

She scampers out of the room, happy to have that extra layer on. Ellie really is going back to her classroom, but as she passes Melissa’s door, she can’t help but stop in the open doorway.

Your girlfriend raises her brows at the sight of your little girl. “Hey, El. What’s going on?”

“I had to get my sweater from Momma, but then I was passing your room and I wanted to say hi,” Ellie smiles bashfully from the door. “Can I come in and give you a hug?”

“One quick one,” the redhead sighs dramatically as she opens her eyes wide. Your daughter knows she isn’t one bit annoyed with the big grin that your girlfriend is wearing. “But then you have to get back to your room.”

“I know,” the first grader says as she runs into the room and into Melissa’s arms. “Quick snuggle, and then back to Miss Smith.”

“Right. Good girl,” Melissa praises your daughter before releasing her from the hug. “I’ll see you at the end of the day, okay?”

Ellie hums her response before stretching on her toes and kissing the second grade teacher’s cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you too, El.”

“I know!” your little girl grins as she skips out of the room and heads back for her own classroom.

By the time lunch rolls around, you still haven’t heard anything from your daughter’s first grade teacher or the nurses, so you assume that Ellie really is just toughing it out until you all get home for the night.

“Hey,” you greet your girlfriend sitting her place with a kiss to the temple. “How’s your day going so far?”

“I had a little visitor today,” Melissa chuckles. “Oh?”

“Ellie came in wanting a hug after she got her sweater from you,” your girlfriend smiles. “She’s lucky she’s cute.”

“Did she feel warm to you?” you ask her the same question she asked you this morning.

“I asked you that this morning,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “But yes, why?”

“Smith called asking if El was feeling well while I was teaching math and told me that she was shivering for the entirety of their word work time.”

“Poor thing’s probably getting sick,” the redhead sighs as she brings a forkful up to her mouth.

You hang your head. “Great.”

“At least it isn’t during break that she’s going to be sick,” Melissa tries to comfort you.

You nod. “I guess, but I hate seeing her like-”

“I want Mommy!” you can hear your little girl before you can see her. You raise a brow at that though- she never calls you ‘Mommy’. You’ve always been ‘Momma’, from the time that she was born. The staff room door whips open, and there is a wailing Ellie with snot running down her face as she clings to her first grade teacher’s hand. “I want Mommy!”

“Y/N, I’m so-” Miss Smith tries to get out.

You shake your head, refusing her apology- you know how your daughter can get when she’s not feeling well, and it’s quite clear to you now that Ellie is under the weather. You rush over to her and crouch down in front of her.

Melissa raises her brow, and she contemplates making her way over. But you’re always so good with your daughter, and you she figures that you have this one handled.

The rest of the Abbott crew makes their way in, sidestepping around you to get to their own spots. But of course, Ava stops in her tracks.

“Why’s your kid so snotty?”

“Ava,” you scold.

The principal shrugs and bypasses you to get to the coffee machine.

“I want Mommy!” Ellie continues to wail.

You open your arms for your sick little girl to fall into. “Momma’s right here, baby. I’m right here.”

“I want Mommy!” the child refuses and goes so far as to stomp her foot in frustration. That action is not something you would usually condone, but you let it slide just this one time. God, is she so sick she’s delirious and doesn’t realize that you’re right in front of her?

“Sweetheart, I’m right here,” you whisper and you reach out a hand to brush away a few of the hairs that are in her face. You pull your sleeve over your hand and wipe the snot away from her face. “Momma’s right here.”

“I want Mommy!” Ellie shrieks again as the tears pour down her face.

You run a hand over your face before pulling her into your arms. You lift her onto your hip and hold her as she cries, offering the rest of the staff an apologetic look for the commotion your daughter is causing. 

“Mommy’s here, baby,” you sigh softly. You take your seat back next to your girlfriend as you try to soothe your daughter enough to be able to take her through the halls to gather her things to head home for the day.

Melissa reaches a hand over and starts rubbing circles on Ellie’s back in hopes of helping to calm her down. At her touch, your little girl’s head pops up from its place on your shoulder, and she immediately reaches for the redhead.

Your girlfriend pulls Ellie into her lap and holds her, rocking her gently.

“Mommy,” the little girl whimpers as her cries and wails turn into soft sniffles.

Everyone’s eyes in the room, including your own, go wide. Melissa’s jaw drops, and she looks to you.

“What was that, baby?” you ask softly.

“I telled you and Miss Smith that I wanted Mommy,” Ellie mumbles as your girlfriend’s warm touch and gentle rocking starts to lull her to sleep. She starts to lazily play with the red curls that are within her reach as her eyes flutter shut. She’s snoring softly against Melissa’s shoulder within minutes.

The silence that has washed over the staff lounge at Ellie’s words is finally broken when the redhead asks softly, “Did she- did she call me ‘Mommy’? Am I ‘Mommy’?”

“I think she did,” Barbara smiles from her place.

“Wow,” Melissa whispers as she looks down at the little girl in her lap. “Wow.”

You also whisper your shock and surprise.

Those green eyes that you’ve fallen in love with look into yours seriously. “Are you- how do you feel about that?”

“Honestly?” you ask quietly.

She nods.

You smile softly, a bit sadly. “I wish it didn’t take her being ridiculously sick for her to call you that… but it feels so right.”

The second grade teacher takes one hand off of Ellie’s back to take your own. She squeezes it gently with tears in her eyes. 

“Sorry,” she chuckles as she wipes at her eyes. “I didn’t think I would get so emotional over this.”

You chuckle softly, as does Barbara.

“Well,” the kindergarten teacher looks to the two of you expectantly. “Little Ellie needs her Mommy and her Momma to take her home and look after her.”

You glance to your girlfriend, and she nods without hesitation.

“Even if Ava and Mr. J are our subs?” you double check.

“El needs us,” Melissa tells you firmly. “I don’t care who is with our kids as long as we’re with Ellie.”

“I’ll get everything together if you want to stay here with her?” you ask.

She nods. “You know where my sub plans are?”

“Of course I do,” you laugh softly as you stand. “Just give me like fifteen minutes, and then we can head out.”

When you return back to the staff lounge, Melissa is still holding your little girl close to her heart and humming softly while glaring at everyone else, daring them to make noise and wake the Ellie.

“Hey,” you lug your bags, your girlfriend’s bags, and your little girl’s backpack in as quietly as you can. “We’re good to go.”

She stands from her place, still managing to keep Ellie asleep on her. You’re both able to get her in the car and back into the apartment while she naps, and once the little girl is settled on the couch and still asleep, you take Melissa into the kitchen. You wrap your arms around her neck and look her in the eyes.

“I love you,” you whisper as you press your foreheads together.

“I love you too,” she tells you quietly. “And El.”

“You’re so good with her,” you tell Melissa softly. “So good.”

She hums before kissing you gently.

“How do you feel about being ‘Mommy’?” you ask your girlfriend.

Your girlfriend’s eyes well with tears again. “Like I’m on top of the world… that little girl of yours… wow.”

“That little girl of ours,” you correct her. “Ours.”

As if Ellie knows the two of you are talking about her, she whines out from her place on the couch. “Mommy! Momma!”

Motherhood never stops, and the two of you head into the living room to hold your daughter together. 

TAGS (and lmk if you wanna be added!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson

[absideon-ephemeral]

Dog Tags | Bucky Barnes

Bucky Barnes x (fem) reader

Summary: there is something about Bucky’s dog tags that drove both of you crazy.

A/N: SET AFTER THE SHOW THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER. I have a head cannon that Bucky ended up moving to Louisiana and buying a house close to Sarah.

Warnings: (hopefully) tooth rotting fluff, mild language, Reader described as having boobs, suggestive themes, illness, idk what I missed so read at your own advisory I guess.

There was something about them.

Those fucking dog tags.

He wore them every moment of every day: didn’t even take them off to shower or sleep.

They were just pieces of metal (although they had special value to him) so you couldn’t figure out why it drove you crazy whenever you caught a glimpse of them.

I was a good kind of crazy though. One that would make you go feral for him. You never voiced this to your beautiful lover, but he knew. Oh, he knew.

After finding out about your obsession from Sam a little birdie, he would make any excuse to show them off. In the shower, working out, cuddling? Bucky did it all. (His favorite was seeing them dangle and slap your face while he has you folded in half).

But his ultimate favorite ended up happening on a quiet Sunday morning. . .

————————��——————————————

It was early. Early enough to just begin to hear the birds chirp and see the sun start to rise. Bucky unlocked your shared front door and crept inside as quietly as possible.

For the past week, he had been away on some diplomatic mission to tie up loose ends left from the Flagsmashers. His week was crammed full of press conferences, meetings, and the occasional man hunt for a left-over Smasher. And for the past week, his stress has been through the roof.

It all started when he had managed to forget his dogs tags on the bathroom counter the morning he left. For the rest of the week, an unsettling weightlessness sat on his chest and the absence of the familiar, cool metal was strange. The tags brought him comfort: it kept him grounded and reminded him of who he is. On rough days, they acted as a form of emotional support - reminding him that he is James Buchanan Barnes and not him. Without them, a strange hollowness followed him everywhere.

And to make matters worse, you ended up falling sick with something close to pneumonia the day after he left. He was helpless and couldn’t do anything more than call and pester Sarah to check on you.

So he felt empty and stressed, but now he was home and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with you.

As quietly as possible, Bucky set down his bag and toed off his mud-crusted boots, making his way to the kitchen after. He tried (keyword, tried) to quietly recreate his mom’s famous chicken noodle soup for you, but it was a bit hard when his metal arm ‘clinked’ against the pot and bowl.

Once he was satisfied with the meal he prepared, he grabbed a glass of water and made his way to your shared bedroom.

Nudging the door open, he was greeted with the sight of your sleeping form sprawled out on the bed. Setting the soup and water on the bedside table, he sat on the edge of the bed to silently admire you.

There you lay, hair a messy halo on the pillow and small snores accompanying each breath. He took note that you were wearing his old red shirt with the words “can you give me a hand?” written across it (Sam had given it to him during a visit to Wakanda when he was an armless mess). But the thing he noticed most was the harsh rasp and rattle of your lungs with each breath. A frown fell upon his face as he decided wether or not to wake you up. On one hand, he wanted you to enjoy your, seemingly peaceful, sleep; but on the other, he knew that you needed to clear your lungs before you suffocated on mucus.

The thought of you not suffocating won over and he gently shook you awake. It took a couple shakes and the quiet repetition of your name to elicit a groan from you. From there, he began to gently coax you further into awareness.

“Come on doll, I’m finally home and want to see those pretty eyes. I need you to get up, hon.” He spoke softly.

Slowly but surely, your eyes opened and you had to blink a few times to clear them. Upon seeing the beautiful face of your lover you shot up, despite the protest of your sluggish body, and threw your arms around his neck.

“I missed you so much.” Your voice was hoarse from coughing and sounded so frail.

“I missed you too, darling. I know you’re probably still tired, but how about we take a nice, warm shower together, hm? That way we can both be clean and we can loosen up that gunk in your lungs.”

You simply nodded, too tired and on the brink of falling asleep against him. He wrapped you up in his arms and carried out of bed and to the bathroom. Once inside, he set you down on the toilet and turned on the shower all the way to hot. He stripped himself bare, save for his boxers, and then began to help you.

Kneeling in front of you, he placed his hands on your waistband, a silent ask of permission. You lifted your hips just enough for him to slide your shorts off. The shirt came next. But it’s what was under it that caught him off guard.

It wasn’t the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra, no, he was used to that.

But it was the fact that you were wearing his dog tags.

His dog tags.

The ones he left behind and had felt their absence all week.

Sitting so prettily between your breasts, shining and slick with condensation.

For a minute his brain short circuited - snapping into a daze as the bathroom began to fill with hot, thick steam. But it was your voice that brought him back.

“Bucky?” The small call was followed by a series of coughs that racked your whole body.

He immediately sprang into action, rubbing your back and pushing your damp hair away from your face. Reassuring words spilled out of his mouth like a poem; guiding you through it and reminding you to try and breathe. By the time the coughing subsided and you could breathe again, your chest hurt and your lungs were so tired. Bucky could see your exhaust and it pained him to see you so tired.

“Whats on your mind?” The question caught him off guard.

“Nothing hun. Just thinking about how pretty you look wearing my tags.”

A small grin broke out on your face, “you like when I wear ‘em?”

His eyes met yours. “Honey, I absolutely fucking love it.”

A raspy chuckle escaped you. “Good. Cause I want to wear them if that’s okay with you. Especially when you’re not here. It’s like I have you right beside me no matter what.”

Bucky smiled and stood up, stripping you and himself of the remaining clothes and guiding you off the toilet and to the shower. “Doll, you can wear them whenever you want. You can wear them forever if that’s what it takes to make you always feel safe and loved,” he stepped into the shower, allowing the warm water to hit him first, “but I will always be by your side. With or without those tags.”

A small smirk crept upon his face as you fully joined him in the shower.

“You don’t know the things you do to me wearing my tags. Actually, I want you to wear them every day. That way, everyone will know you’re mine.”

———————————————————————

And he kept true to his word. Everyday, he would place those tags around your neck, making sure they fell just right on your chest. More often than not it ended up with him bending you over the bathroom counter and watching in the mirror as his tags slapped against your tits. And he made sure you always had them when he was away as well. No longer had he felt anxious or empty without them for he knew that they were always beside your heart.

So, it’s safe to say, that his favorite way of seeing his dog tags, was on you.

[live-laugh-legolas]

can you do headcanons for when they're sick?

preferably the fellowship+faramir

Absolutely!

When the fellowship members are sick (+Faramir)

Aragorn:

-Insists he’s fine

-If the tables were turned he would go all doctor like on you and tell you how rest will help

-But he’s built different so it doesn’t apply to him apparently

-Knows all the remedies but refuses to use them because he wants to “build up his immune system”

-You have to be pretty firm with him

-But after being his friend for so long you know this already

-Possibly threaten him

Legolas:

-Can elves even get sick?

-I imagine he would be confused in the same way he was when the alcohol was “effecting him”

-“My nose…It’s leaking”

-He’s probably a bit stressed but outwardly he seems pretty normal

-Will do whatever you tell him to do

-One of the easiest to take care of, plus he gets better after a day or so

Gimli:

-Grumpy and in denial

-Seriously, dwarves are so stubborn

-“dwarves don’t get sick!” Then proceeds to lose his lunch

-Tbh you probably have to drug him

-I read this fic by CheveronChick last year at some point and I did a deep dive to find it again because it’s a perfect example of how I think Gimli acts when sick

-I recommend giving it a read

Boromir:

-Tries to act tough and pretend nothings wrong

-But ends up being very dramatic

-Convinced he’s dying

-“you will die one day Boromir but not from this cold”

-He is used to being the one to take care of others, so when you force him to rest and let you take care of him he feels special

-I’ve mentioned before that I think despite his outgoing nature he doesn’t have many close friends

-So he genuinely loves having you to be there for him

-Side note, he may pretend to still be sick so you dote more but you know what he’s doing and he gets a pillow to the face

Frodo:

-Just sleeps it off

-Seriously doesn’t even act that sick

-You just don’t see much of him because he is asleep

-He could be dead…you honestly aren’t sure

-Would probably show up a few days later totally fine and just be like “sorry I had pneumonia” “Thats serious Frodo wtf”

Sam:

-Knows he needs to rest, but he doesn’t like to sit around doing nothing

-Actually one of the hardest to take care of

-Feels bad when he needs to be taken care of

-Also worried he will get you sick

-“Stay away y/n, I’m contaminated”

Merry:

-Very nonchalant and responsible

-Drinks so much tea and takes all the drugs

-Maybe I should take back the responsible part

-He seems like the type to genuinely like the taste of pepto and will chug it

-Takes shots of whatever the ME equivalent of night-quill is

Pippin:

-Standing in the doorway in the middle of the night; “I threw up”

-Cries when he gets sick, but me too Pippin I get it

-You will get sick too because he insists that you stay with him because he’s dying

-You would never forgive yourself if he died and you weren’t there (That’s what he tells you)

-But to be fair, I feel like he doesn’t get sick much but when he does it tends to be worse than a normal cold

Gandalf:

-I have no idea if he can get sick

-But don’t you dare suggest he might be

-You may lose your head

-No he’s not sick

*Bonus Faramir:

-I feel like he has two reactions and it depends on who he is with

-To most people he will refuse to seem weak, you probably wouldn’t even guess it

-Just maybe a bit sluggish

-However with people he trusts, mainly you and Boromir, he will happily let you take care of him

-Won’t verbally admit that he enjoys the attention, but you know he does

-So kind about it and appreciative

-Although he would feel bad, he would be secretly a little pleased if you got sick too because he could return the care you gave him

[cocteaucherry]

trials and tribulations .3

summary- falling in love with your sworn enemy was not something you planned.

cws- p&p au/ bridgerton au, inaccurate use of regency language, 18+, misogyny, sexual tension, future smut in later chapters, slow slow burn, LENGTHY descriptions, ooc Suguru, suguru x f!reader, talks of f!masturbation , not proofread

a/n- awkward silence when I up and left for 22 days with no explanation, I’ll touch more on that in a later post but for now enjoy!

taglist @mandysfanfics, @ti-mame, @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer

The rain belted on the glass as you stood on the other side watching as the world washed away.

You felt as if you needed a cold bath, something to wash the prints of Suguru Geto’s touch off your clothes, your hands graced over the areas where his touch lingered.

Why did you feel deprived of his touch? Why did you need his touch?

“Miss l/n I’m sorry to interrupt-“

He was caught off guard by your small yelp, you had to be more attentive in this house

“Sorry Ijichi! I get lost in thought a lot.” You bowed in apology before he also returned one.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve been more gentle with my approach.” He cleared his throat with a small smile, “It’s getting rather late and the rain hasn’t stopped.. we would offer you a carriage home but the roads have been washed out.”

“I guess I’ll wait for the rain.. or I’ll try to walk.” You shrugged contemplating your options, you really didn’t want to walk especially in this weather.

“Actually, Mr. Gojo has offered you to stay in a spare room for the evening.. we wouldn’t want you catching a cold.”

You smiled before letting out a small laugh, “I’m very grateful.. but I don’t want my mother and father to worry.”

“We assure you that your parents won’t be worried, I’m sure they’d be more upset with us for letting you walk home in this.”

Your eyebrow rose as you crossed your arms, “Forgive me for asking, I know he’s ill at the moment but will I ever get to see him during this visit?” The request came out rather timidly to your dismay but it made Ijichi sweat nonetheless.

“Well-uhm- you see Mr. Gojo wouldn’t want you to get sick as well.” Ijichi was definitely not great under pressure, you noted.

You uncrossed your arms nodding your head, “alright then, I will happily stay in a room until the rain stops.”

“Then you may follow me.”

Your head was spinning with questions, why would Ijichi possibly lie abt Gojo? Why would Gojo invite you knowing he was ill? Your heart ached in your chest, Geto's actions being the one to cause it.

Your stomach dropped and your blood ran cold, if the roads were washed out that means Geto couldn’t get back as well? Was he also going to stay?

You shook your head pushing the thoughts away. Hopefully you’d only encounter him one more time tonight.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

“Suguruuu~ are you listening?”

Suguru was snapped out of thought, he stood before Gojo’s bed, the white haired man staring at him with a sick grin. “Yes… I am.” He mumbled, pushing strands of rain soaked hair out of his face.

“Y’know, for a man who’s supposedly sick you seem rather energetic .”

Satoru smirked, leaning his head back, “I’m just plagued and riddled with sickness Sugu, and it seems you are too..” he pointed a finger wagging it teasingly.

The raven haired male stared blankly at him, crossing his arms, “I’m perfectly fine Satoru, please get some rest or die of pneumonia.” He turned on his heel, preparing to exit, “I’m going home-“

“Yeeesh about thattt- I’m afraid you’re not going home anytime soon, roads washed out.”

Geto froze a vein appearing above his eyebrow, “Am I supposed to stay here for the night?”

“With her yes, maybe if you’re lucky she’ll give you a kind ‘goodnight’” Satoru hummed, staring out the window to see the tumultuous rain belt down.

“Not planning on it, Satoru,” Suguru mumbled, stepping out of the room.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

The rain wasn’t letting up anytime soon.

You found yourself wandering the halls, the occasional strike of lightning helping to guide your way.

You admired the classic oil paintings that adorned the ornate halls smiling to yourself when you found a portrait of a familiar face.

hair as pure as snow with a slightly rounder face and those blue eyes that seemed to bore into your soul.

Although just like usual he was never alone, always accompanied by what seemed to be his shadow.

Dark hair that was shorter with those intense amber eyes.

“Thought you went home miss l/n”

this man truly was a shadow.

You turned to the voice of Suguru Geto, but he looked more undone. Hair slightly wet as it fell past his back some strands stuck to his forehead.

“How come you’re always near or behind him?” You ignored his question pointing your head to the portrait, footsteps echoed as he stood next to you. “How come you never answered my question?”

“Why would I answer you? Why should I?” You spun to face him as he avoided eye contact with you, “You never give me a reason to answer kindly.” You scoffed as you walked impossibly closer to him, Geto’s heart skipped a few beats as he finally made eye contact with your gaze.

He cleared his throat trying to regain his stance (control), “Satoru and I have been together for…awhile, while we both are wealthy, his family is significantly stronger.”

“So that makes you his equal, even possibly a scapegoat.” You stepped back, your eyes quickly shifting to his hand that twitched at your movement.

A grin appeared on his face, “Quite the opposite, I help save his ass on multiple occasions. He’s not the best at keeping his head straight.. or keeping his pants on.”

You choked on your saliva at the sudden mention which caused him to chuckle from his throat, “What? I know a forward woman as yourself isn’t taboo to the mention of sex? Satoru excels at that.”

You felt a blush creep under your skin, “What makes you think that?”

“The way your face visibly became uncomfortable told me that,” his eyes drifted quickly up and down your frame, “I can tell when a woman is.. how do I say this? Frustrated?”

“Frustrated?!-“ you yelled out but quickly covered your mouth to whisper it, “I’m frustrated because you- you’re!-“ you stuttered angrily, scolding yourself for not having a better comeback.

“Maybe you should try exploring your own body first before going after someone like Satoru, just a suggestion,” Geto said, turning on his foot to walk down the darkened hallway.

You had almost forgotten it was raining during the conversation, the soft patter of rain filling your ear drums as you try to reconcile what just occurred.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

You weren’t sexually frustrated, You weren’t sexually frustrated,

You repeated in your head as you buried yourself into the pillows of the way too extravagant bed, “ridiculous, he doesn’t know anything..” you mumbled clasping your hands close to your chest.

You tried to force yourself to drift off to sleep but your head began to pound and your body became warm, the handprints he left on your waist, they still left an excruciatingly burning linger. The way his hair framed his face annoyed you.

His avoidant stare annoyed you. His soft voice annoyed you, his strong hands annoyed you. His sly smirk, His perfect teeth, the way his fingers graced your breasts.

His last words echoed in your head broken by your lust “Explore, body”

You were taught otherwise in your life, should you?

You felt your hands drift towards your panties playing with the hem, would you really touch yourself out of Suguru Geto’s words?

You let out a frustrated groan, you couldn’t let him win.

[anna-scribbles]

hey anna! the wait for kwami’s choice part 2 truly is abysmal and it’s so hard to navigate through the tag with all the leaks about, do you have any fic recs to tide us over until gloob puts us out of our misery?

not only do I have fic recs, I also have way too much to do rn and therefore will spend an inordinate amount of time crafting a detailed rec list for you 😘 (we can also just consider this my 2022 ao3 wrapped lol)

goes without saying perhaps, but ANYTHING by @peachcitt is gold and also uniquely devastating, some of my particular favorites being:

metamorphosis - 97k, enemies, sleepovers, you get it. i'm normal

those benevolent stars - 23k, ladrien thief/prince/soulmates au. what more do I even need to say

chat noir's white french man hit list for feminist purposes - 7k, hilarious and devastating, this fic is a child to me

double dare - 32k, ladrien, absolutely everything. cemented my friendship w/ peach bc I had to scream at her everyday abt it

I thought the plane was going down - 11k, attuned to my tastes specifically, adrinette having a History while on airplanes

@carpisuns also puts out banger after banger like it's her dayjob, specializing in understanding the ridiculous nature of the lovesquare to such a degree and also being the funniest person alive. some of my faves from her are:

tell me something I don't know - 120k, the marichat fic EVER, mar's dissertation on lovesquare and guess what she's right

pink - 14k wip, adrien loves marinette, SOFT

two idiots and a hamster (collab with @botherkupo) - 24k, adrinette roommates, makes me cry laugh

@picayunearts is a goddess on earth. she bends word and image flawlessly to her will. recently she has enraptured me with

final girl - 41k, marichat, au where marinette succeeds in giving up her miraculous to alya in origins. INCREDIBLE marinette character study

@rosekasa invented ladynoir and i'm not afraid to say it. check out everything on her ao3 but just note the following

when things were good - 15k wip, breakup fic/post hawkmoth takedown, has been ruining me in a SPECIAL way

new marinette 12k, post-guardianship memory loss marinette, a classic

like poles of a magnet - 12k, enemies au, hurts my feelings

ya'aburnee - 13k, ladynoir, HURTS ME VERY MUCH. I'VE NOT RECOVERED

@buggachat's fics always feel like i'm attending a course on adrien and marinette's true characterizations explained to me by someone with a PhD in lovesquare and I walk away enlightened. she has an incredible gift for storytelling and just Getting It. anyway read

maintaining a professional distance - 43k, ladynoir hotel room shenanigans, god-tier characterization

when you're near 10k, ladynoir dating but adrinette have never met, a classic

@sha-nwa should honestly quit her career and write lovesquare fanfiction for me full time. proof:

the way I loved you - 68k, marichat break up fic, will be cemented into my mind forever

photograph - 1k, sweet adrinette, abby loves making me cry

things WOULD be amiss if I did not mention @officialratprince (carolinaa on ao3) bc their fics derailed my homework schedule on several occasions last semester, though I'll be honest that their fics are not for the faint of heart or those who wish adrien agreste to have a good time. my faves are

I will take it / it can't go wrong series - 3 fics at 16k, 25k, and 39k, adrien's journey through experiencing child abuse and his friends being there for him, culminating in gabriel's court trial

home sick - 14k wip, adrien gets pneumonia and Everything Is Really Bad

other various fics I love for various reasons:

how hawkmoth got his groove back series by @agrestenoir - 2 fics at 3k and 1k, one of my favorite crack fics i read last year. had me crying laughing

1 step forward, 3 steps back by agnes writes - 10k, breaks my heart every time I read it. also makes me legitimately angry at adrien while still keeping him in character which is a feat in and of itself

the last day on earth by reiaji - 10k, chat blanc keeps happening as marinette gets older, I am incapable of not recommending this fic

okay now go forth and don't do your work<3

[vstheworld]

how could I forget about the “what’s good here?” customer

just tell me what you want please I am so tired

easily my least favorite genre of customer is “I want Starbucks but I came to local coffeeshop instead to get mad that they don’t have the same menu as Starbucks”

[kr-han]

Would you post more High&Low trivia?

YES! But I'm so sorry that there isn't much left. I haven't had any time to rewatch nor reread anything about HiGH&LOW recently. Life sucks, sometimes but it goes on😪 Also, I didn't know much about the next generation (a.k.a Fujio and the gang).

Anyway, for anyone who just found this, here's the previous.

⚠ CAUTION ⚠

What I write down here wasn't necessarily facts, it contains some of my head canons and assumptions, so please take it with a grain of salt.

So, here something that I left behind!

Cobra and Yamato didn't attend high school at all. They were out there riding along with MUGEN while Noboru was in school and getting to a law school.

Cobra brings a wrestling magazine with him to the toilet (yes, he's taking a dump while reading, presumably, about his great Inoki-san).

Hiroto, most of the time, didn't help around the house.

Masaki has been doing the chores all to himself even when Takeru was still around.

Takeru was the one who did all the paperwork according to The Amamiyas' jobs and his brothers were at loss when he wasn't around. That was why we found a lot of documents and related news to their parents' incident in his room.

Although it wasn't a fun fact, but even if Kuryu didn't beat him up, Smoky didn't have much time left. He got several severe medical issues such as: asthma, pneumonia, hematemesis (the main reason why he coughed blood), and cataract. It was already hard for him to see and move around. Thus, he sacrificed himself. I assume he also had Marie Antoinette Syndrome considering his grey/white hair. (I might need to write a whole new content for Smoky).

Meanwhile, Eri has asthma and pneumonia. It can be cured, except for asthma.

When P was little, he cried like "Pii, pii, pii…." every single time. That was why he is P.

Takeshi has this breakdance-like-attack that always on the beat, thus he called Takeshi. It was a pun on the name 'Beat Takeshi' (he's a comedian, btw).

There was actually some kind of changes on character design, name, and all. It might explain on why some names are different on different sources. But I guess I'll write it for the next post.

I guess, that's all for this time. I hope it doesn't disappoint you. Please wish me well on my final paper, so that I can dig and write more.

You can support me on ko-fi as well!!

Thank you so much, hope that I can comeback earlier and write more. See you!!

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

PSA for anyone who recently had surgery: if you keep having persistent shortness of breath that might not be "just the aftereffects of anesthesia probably?" It might be fucking pneumonia.

Source: guess who has fucking pneumonia

[xiaoluclair]

20. clumsy attempts at flirting for lestappen pretty please?

okay confession, i have no idea what clumsy flirting even is beyond accidentally knocking over an avalanche of canned jalapeños onto you and your crush in the middle of a bend and snap. so i have a feeling this probably is not quite clumsy flirting but also i did not want to let the flow get away from me so eeeeeeenjoy!(?)

clumsy flirting attempts // lestappen // [ rating: T ] word count: 2.5k . yeah. not beta read either or checked over very well 😁

Max opens his front door and steps on a green bean. It's lying a foot away from a litre Tupperware box of... Max squints. Green beans.

He gives the hallway a cursory glance, then hefts the box into the kitchen and shuts the window his sister must've opened before she left the evening before. Something about needing more fresh air. Whatever, thinks Max, and grabs a pen to tick get green beans off the to do list on the refrigerator. He's not trading pneumonia for a tablespoon of chilled plant piss.

"Hey." Dilara gives him a smile, little Jerry stood between her legs and intently jabbing at a Samsung screen. Some garbled trumpet plays whenever he presses it. "How much were the beans?"

"Beans?" asks Dilara. "Oh, for your shopping? Around nine euros for a pack from Vie Claire."

"And you had, what, nine hundred euros to spend?" laughs Max. "Can you text me your account details for money transfer? My mum would probably shunt my d— um, dining table if I let someone spend that much on me."

At first, Max thinks he is about to get a smack for nearly cursing a three year old's ears. Then Dilara says, "I think. I am not sure what you are talking about."

So Max paints the picture from this morning and little Jerry stops trying to break his mum's phone with his thumbs to listen too. "You were the only one I talked to about it," as the elevator doors open and the three of them spill out into the little lobby.

"Someone might have overheard?" offers Dilara.

"Piano has beans," little Jerry informs Max sagely and Max.

Max snaps his fingers and says, "Of course, thanks mate."

Because piano has beans. Duh.

Max does not so much forget the bean incident as have a million other things piled on top of it. And then it gets lost somewhere. Maybe under a cupboard, or shoved between the radiator and the wall.

"It is broken, I think," says Max. "And the plumber said he is not free until the twenty second, so I guess that is me in socks and coats for the next three days."

Peter makes a delighted sound, a very different reception to Max's earlier lamentings on the lack of cat food in stock. "Did I ever tell you how my wife and I met?"

"Yeah," says Max, "on Gwyneth Paltrow's second cousins's niece's friend's friend's yacht's coach."

"Really?" say Peter. "Wow, that must have been fun. But the other time we met was — can you guess?"

"No."

"When my plumbing broke, of course! She was my neighbor, said I could take the left side of her bed for sleeping because the guest room had a fresh coat of paint. Of course," his jaw makes a quaint leer, "there was not much sleeping at all."

"Lovely," says Max, "I am going to get more gin. Happy birthday again."

Cue the next evening, and the doorbell rings. The peephole shows a slightly stretched suit, slicked back brown hair into a dramatically wide ponytail. Max sets down the last of the bean casserole, opens the lock, loops out the chain.

"Hello," he greets politely.

The woman with, actually, a normal sized ponytail gives him a grin. "Broken radiator?" She picks up the handyman's box of utensils next to her foot. G. MANNI, reads the orange block along the side. "I've got you covered."

"Are you a friend of Peter's?" asks Max.

"Who?" she says.

"Just a— never mind." Max waves her in.

What a bewildering scenario, he thinks later as he tugs off the three pairs of socks from his feet.

The radiator scenario would probably have suffered the same fate as the beans if Max did not, only the next morning, find 7kg of cat food waiting on his doorstep.

"Like angels dancing on my eardrums," Arnaav is saying when Max goes to wish them. "I asked him to record me a song as a present as a joke and he actually said I could listen to a demo."

"Wow," says Gertrude, "you lucky thing, you."

"Arnaav," says Max, "congratulations."

Arnaav beams. "Thank you."

"What was it, three years? Four?"

"Five actually. Masters with industrial placement. A dockyard up in Andora, lots of very ripped Italian men."

Max grins. "That sounds very lovely."

"Of course," continues Arnaav, "it seems like very ripped men are closer to home than I remember."

Gertrude giggles at that. Max feels his eyebrows arch together.

Arnaav gestures them both to follow into the kitchen. "Seriously," they say as they pass Frankie tying up a bright blue sausage balloon into a bright blue sausage dog to little Jerry's delight, "do you think I should shoot a shot? There is no way a guy like that is single though."

They are looking at Max imploringly. Max says, "Go for it." Then, "Who are we talking about?"

Gertrude chokes mid-chew on a bite of grape and gouda. "Gamer boys," she sighs, "always stuck in their computers."

"For once, I agree." Arnaav shakes their head. "I would point him out, but he's at his brother's for the weekend."

Dilara and Mag come laughing in then. "Mag," says Gertrude urgently, "Max does not know about the new tenant."

Which is how Max finds out, in the following five minutes, that the hottest man on the planet (Dilara's words, not his) has apparently been living two floors down from him since early November.

"Always fingering his music into late hours of the night," says Mag with a flushed sigh. "Have you ever wanted to be music so bad."

"Okay," says Max, and he takes the bottle of vodka and chugs for a little while.

The scenarios keep scenarioing. Max finds a wheel of cheese and two pounds of tomatoes in the mail. A couple days later, thirteen rolls of cat-patterned wrapping paper to replenish his dwindling stock. Then a stack of coupons for free petrol refills at any Shell in France.

It comes to an apex when he gets called down to the lobby to pick up an €800 gaming headset. Max takes it back up to his apartment and leaves it by the couch while he unlocks his phone.

Whoever keeps buying me things, it is very kind but please stop.

It is pretty late, so Max does not expect any replies. Does this have anything to do with the beans? says Gertrude barely a minute after he has sent it.

I think so, says Max.

amx is being sent things? asks Peter. *max.

Do not be jealous peter, says Dilara, I am sure we can find you your own courter.

Max blinks. Courter?

Person who courts someone else. Gives them presents to woo them that sort of thing.

I do not have a courter.

Sure you don't ;D

I don't.

HEY, Arnaav comes barrelling in, SHUTU P AND LET ME ENJPY THE MISIC.

its very lovely, agrees Peter.

Hey, has anyone added Charles? asks Mag.

Max, who does not particularly care for any person named Charles at the moment, least of all whether or not they've been added or deleted, whacks up the heating on his way to bed. He is about to turn off the light when a smack sounds from the balcony. Sassy makes a petulant expression when Max turns on the outside light.

"Idiot cat," he tells her, then slides opens the door. Immediately, the lethargic sound of piano floods into his ears. Sassy slinks inside as Max blinks.

His phone buzzes again. Mag: God I want him to play me like that.

So apparently Max's entire apartment complex spends their nights having a massive orgy to the new guy playing the piano. Charles, he gathers, playing the piano.

Charles gets added to the WhatsApp group too, renamed JDM GC (NOT FOR THIRSTING). His profile picture is black and white and contains three people, none of whom Max has seen before. He thinks they must be brothers.

not for thirsting? is the first thing Charles says. is this an inside joke i need to beg to be updated on? 😂. Max sees Mag is typing... pop up then disappear.

A few minutes later, he finds himself in a new WhatsApp group. JDM GC (FOR THIRSTING). Charles is not in this one. I'd make him beg, says Arnaav into it.

Same, says Mag, 💧.

Max thinks the exclusion is probably for the best.

He flies back in from iRacing contract negotiations a day before the Christmas Party. In the time left, he unpacks, laments to Dilara on the lack of green beans in store (“Christmas time,” she sympathizes), streams until two in the morning. Periodically checks his doorstep just in case. 

Everything is fine. Then he returns from another green–beanless escapade and on his mat, is a parcel. Inside the parcel, is a dark blue wooly sweater with an outrageously bright design of red and green animals and a manger on the front, yellow sheen emitting from the neck hole.

There is a note.

Merry Christmas x.

Max takes it in, puts it on. Stares at himself in the mirror. Takes it off, wraps it up, and leaves it on the torn parcel paper to return later. He can give the money to the New Year's party.

When he takes the elevator down to Dilara's apartment, he is immediately accosted by Gertrude and slightly less accosted by little Jerry. "Max!"

Mistletoe hangs from the ceiling. Max takes the kiss she plants on his mouth with his hands on her arms to make sure it does not turn into Human Bowling, then blows out a breath. "Do you know who keeps giving me shit?"

Gertrude's brow furrows. "The beans?"

"The same person, yeah." Max rubs his temple. "It is starting to piss me off. I asked them to stop and they have not."

"Maybe it is someone not in the building?"

"Unless they bugged the place, no." Max sighs. "It was always ridiculous but now it is even more ridiculous. The whole 'courting thing' too is just stupid."

Litter Jerry looks up, Samsung held slightly precariously in his chubby fingers. "What about—"

"Charles!" erupts Gertrude brightly, looking into the distance. Max twists on the spot but there's just empty hallway. The stairwell door swings a little. Gertrude sways on the spot slightly.

"Let's get you inside," says Max and herds her back into the celebrations. At the jerk of his head, little Jerry sighs a great sigh and ducks under his arm, back into the loud apartment.

Nothing. Max opens the door: nothing. Max enters the lobby: nothing. Max gets his mail: nothing.

Max gets on with his life. Nothing.

Max sits on the balcony at night and listens to the silence. He checks the messages on his phone. Maybe he broke his hands, muses Dilara.

both of them at the same time? says Peter.

I just saw him, reports Mag, in the elevator. His hands are fine. Really really fine.

Back in JDM GC (NOT FOR THIRSTING), Charles simply says he has taken a break due to 'lack of inspiration'.

I will gladly inspire him, says Arnaav in JDM GC (FOR THIRSTING).

Not if I inspire him first, replies Mag.

Max keeps out of that one. Max keeps out of most of it, and: Nothing. The little Merry Christmas note stays in his nightstand and Max just. Forgets to take it out every single night. Whatever.

By the time Peter's New Year's party rolls around, life has settled and Max starts the year off drunk, happy, and listening to little Jerry toot Anaconda on the trumpet while next to him, Peter makes out with his new fiancée as of three seconds ago. Max has never seen her in his life.

The next morning is a slow one. For one, it is already eleven when Max cracks open his eyes. He rolls over. A chilled breeze stirs the hair on his arms.

He blames the alcohol for accepting that as he does. Getting out of bed, taking the wrong door to the bathroom and finding a closet instead. Taking the right door to the bathroom and the Palmolive soap has been replaced by a pot of L’Oreal Paris hair mask. 

Then the cold wind comes back again and Max peers past his headache to see the window cracked wide open. He looks back to the mirror. He is naked. 

“Shit,” says Max, with feeling.

A snore comes from the bedroom. Apparently Max bypassed an entire human being too. Stupid, useless alcohol. He’s going to go back to his place, take his stash of gin, chug it to forget this ever happened.

For now, he puts on his clothes. Rumpled, clearly discarded without much care. But on. Then he takes a look around. Lots of red. A centerpiece of fake roses sits atop an electric piano. The front door is the same as his. A shelf of photos over the TV contains the same three recurring men. In the corner of the kitchen, there is a large cardboard box held shut by a loaf of 50/50. Max moves it off and takes a peak. Inside is roughly two hundred bags of green beans.

The mop of brown hair forms a person eventually. Max has found an OralB tube by then and used his finger as a makeshift brush. 

"Morning," says Max when they arise.

Charles takes one look at him before falling back onto his pillow. "Shit."

Max spends the first afternoon of 2024 swallowing Aspirin and slightly burnt Eggos. Suffice to say, Charles is a terrible host. And yet Max is still here. Pretty privilege. Hottest man on the planet, remembers Max. Yeah, okay. 

He swallows, nods to the box in the corner and its counterpart bread loaf. “So were you the one stalking me?” 

Charles chokes on his protein smoothie, glowers. “I was not— stalking, I was just. Courting.”

“Courting,” echoes Max. “Dilara’s going to have a fit.”

Charles stares at him. He was not in the WhatsApp group at that point so he wouldn’t know. Real funny, Max thinks to the universe. Great planning. 

“So you, what,” he says, “bugged the building?”

“I just overheard sometimes,” says Charles. His cheeks are a vibrant, sick red. Fucking fresh air lovers. 

Max thumbs his own temple. “What do I owe you?”

“What?” asks Charles, stupidly handsome and stupidly stupid. His fingers wrapped around the bottle are messing up Max’s already messed up mind. 

“For all the shit you got me. If you say anything less than a thousand, I will know you’re lying so what do I owe you?”

A moment passes in which Charles blinks at him, Max realizes Jimmy and Sassy are probably upending the microwave, and Charles blinks some more. Then: “A date?”

“You are the worst flirter I have ever met in my life,” Max tells him sincerely. He slides off the stool and kisses him on the mouth. Charles drops the protein smoothie. The bottle breaks all over the floor. 

Max buys him sixteen more.

[yaskie]

Fighting for Cancer

All Stickers and emoji sales will be used for Uncle Dindo’s medical debts and balances for his wake and burial, Auntie Sam’s and my ongoing Hormonal and chemo treatment. We also set a targeted amount through our goal for donations. We thank you all, thank you so much for everything. We deeply appreciate all donations and purchases that will be made. To all who have helped me in the past. I am eternally grateful. Please help me share this post, reblog. It will help me a lot. ❤️‍🩹❤️��🧡💛 Hello Dear friends, I hope you are all doing well. It’s been a long time since I have made an update about my health and everything that is happening to my life. Life has been so busy.  As you read the title for this campaign. Yes, Fighting for cancer, as some of you know I fought with the same battle several years ago, to my friends who helped me financially and all. My never ending gratitude to all of you. 

I became okay and I chose to deal with financial struggles myself, because I know that I am already giving too much burden to my friends over the course of more than a year. I went back to do regular jobs despite lower grade pays in order to survive, and pay the remaining debt for my medication. Where I live, we are paid daily, not hourly and daily wages are between $12-$15/day. And work 8-12 hours a day. Unfortunately, life does not always end like a fairytale. I am doing this campaign again. Not just for myself but for the other two people that are important to my life. I guess this battle runs into the family. I lost so many family members battling this. I lost my Dad to Stage 4 lung cancer last 2015. And last night(March 25,2024) I lost my Uncle Dindo in the same battle, after several months of intensive treatment. It left us drowning with hospital bills, and debts and it cost us nearly $130,000 and is still running. Uncle Dindo left her wife and two daughters, one who is deaf and mute.  Not only that, my Aunt Sam, is also dealing with her Stage 3 Breast Cancer, and it costs us almost $2,000 - $3,000 a week. Her right breast has already been removed. But she is also under close observation. And she was forced to have her unpaid leave at her job, as she needed rest. This also adds up with the financial struggles that we are dealing with too. We have bad healthcare here in PH. And if you are not rich you will die easily.  As for me. After I survived my battle in the Lungs. Tumors have popped up in other parts of my body, most of them are benign(but closely monitored for changes), if there will be malignant tumors again that will also pop out too. If you will see my previous posts, last year there had been a concern about my breast and a surgery was needed, but I decided not to proceed and I went through herbal medication, as it is the most affordable way. They helped me, but some backfired. And I am so afraid to lose a body part. Unfortunately, I got bad pneumonia on-off, and the pain in my right breast is unbearable, after several tests. I am diagnosed with Stage 1. Doctors have already warned me in the past about this. And I also asked for a second opinion, because last year it was just only a close call. I will currently take hormone medication, and another chemo. I do not want another surgery at the moment, if it can be avoided. I have high hopes that I will survive this. I can still do jobs to pay for home and other bills. And be with you all. 

I decided not just to do this campaign alone, but I also made a Ko-Fi Shop to sell digital stickers. With a collaboration and help from a friend, we currently made 11 printable stickers that you can print on the comfort of your home or print shops with a size of 2x2 inches. You can also use the emoji stickers through your streaming channel, please message me through my��Twitter, so I can follow your stream. And for those who printed the physical stickers, it would make us happy if you can tag a photo of them through my twitter. You can put them through notebooks, tumblrs….etc.

Here is the link for our Ko-Fi Store.

Please follow me on twitter or here on Ko-Fi for updates. As we are still working on more Sticker designs. We Can-CerVIVE.

I appreciate all the help that we could get. And thank you so much for understanding. Please take good care of yourselves. Never take your health for granted. Health is wealth. And prevention is better than cure.

Love, Jasky(Your Eternal Sprout)

P.S. To my friends in-game don’t worry you will still see me <3 I love you all! Stay happy and smiling.  These are the digital stickers that we are currently selling.

To all my friends, I badly need your help. Please. Thank you. Sorry for tagging you. Reblog and if you can tag your friends too. Thank you for understanding.

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