#hopefully ill post another one tomorrow

[mamawasatesttube]

i wish it wasn't so normal for people to complain about unfinished wips or fics that take a long time to update. because sometimes i think i have a really fun idea for a fic but it'd take a while for me to write, and i like talking about my work as i do it and i don't like writing entire fics over like 20k without sharing, because i lose steam. so if i were to write and post that cool fic idea, it'd be as a wip. and then i think about all the people who just refuse to engage with wips, or all the other people who would just go "update pls" all the time, and of how people only really comment in the first 24 hours something is posted and then it's lost to obscurity, and then i just go "actually whats the point in going through the effort writing this out? i'll just daydream about it now and then and be done with it." and then i don't write it. alas!

[todayisafridaynight]

stream tomorrow. ~3pm est. this fuckin site. if i dont get hit by a car by then.

[temporarywelcome]

Home Run - Spencer Reid

Wordcount: 2.6k

Summary: The FBI's baseball team needs a fill in for their game against the Secret Service, Morgan being able to convince Reid to take up the role. However, the boy genius does not have an athletic bone in his body, Morgan recruiting the genius' girlfriend to help.

Warnings: some swearing, Spencer is like a baseball magnet

A/N: my inbox is open! Currently working on my first request right now, and will hopefully have it posted tomorrow! This also can 100% be read as a standalone, though it's kind of a continuation of my first Spencer fic "Smooth Criminal". All information needed is in this fic as well though! ok ill stop yapping

-------------------

It might have been the worst day of Spencer’s life. 

Trudging along the field as sweat trickled down his neck and back, the sun beaming down at his pale, vulnerable skin. His tongue was dry, throat closing in on him. He could see spots clouding his vision. 

This wasn’t good.

“Jesus, Reid, we just got out of the car,” Morgan chuckled, hitting Spencer’s back, “This isn’t a desert,”

It wasn’t a desert, it was actually a baseball field. Which was just as bad to the boy genius. 

“You couldn’t ask Hotch or Rossi to do this?” Spencer mumbled nervously, eyeing the field as if some jock baseball player was going to come out of the dug out and murder him. 

“You’re young. Nice and nimble. Lots of potential-”

“They said no?”

“Yes, they said no,” Morgan sighed, placing down his bag on a bench in the dug out. Spencer did the same, awkwardly looking around once again. “Look, it’s only for one day,” 

“One day too many,” 

Morgan shot him a look, taking out his baseball glove and a ball, “We’ll start simple with some catching and throwing, yeah?” 

“This is so embarrassing,” Reid grumbled, grabbing his glove as well (which he has never used before, just buying it this morning). 

“Did you break it in like I told you to?”

He shook his head, “I got it two hours ago…”

Another sigh left his friend, who walked out into the disgusting sun. Spencer hesitantly followed.

And within fifteen minutes, Spencer was laid out on the ground in a starfish position, his life flashing before his very eyes. He thought this was the end.

“Shit! Reid! Reid!” Morgan sprinted towards the young genius, crouching next to his still figure, “Are you okay?” he touched Spencer’s cheek, already starting to turn red after connecting with the ball. 

“Shit, that hurts!” Spencer hissed, slapping Morgan’s hand away. The first sign of life. He slowly sat up, cradling his cheek, “I feel concussed,” his other hand went to the back of his head. 

“Be for real,” Derek muttered in worry, “It’s that bad?” Spencer had quite a low pain tolerance, so neither of them could tell how bad this really was. “I mean, you almost passed out just being in the sun.”

“I could feel my cells mutating,” 

“Let’s hope you’re just being dramatic,” 

_________________

Luckily for them, Spencer was being dramatic, and was back to normal activity the day after.

Like most days, his girlfriend, Y/N, drove into the bureau parking lot and parked, waiting for Spencer to get out of work. She was reading sheet music for her next show when there’s a knock on their window, making her gasp, snapping her head in the direction of her window.

Derek Morgan.

With a sigh, she pressed the button, window inching down slowly, “What the fuck was that for?”

Morgan laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck, “Sorry, Y/N. I know Spencer is trying desperately to keep you away from the team, especially after the fiasco last time we saw you, but…”

Ah, yes. Last time. Y/N and Spencer have been dating for a year, but he has kept the relationship extremely secretive from his team, until Garcia was able to finally crack the case and find pretty much everything to know about her, discovering she was a diagnosed kleptomaniac. The team (minus Hotch, who was peacefully in his office during the whole ordeal) was completely eager to meet this kleptomaniac girlfriend, and Y/N had a) admitted to not being able to pronounce JJ’s last name, and b) stole Rossi’s keys.

Yeah, Spencer wanted his girlfriend and friends far, far away from each other. 

“I really need your help.” Morgan finished.

“With what?” She asked in curiosity.

“I don’t mean to creep you out, but when Garcia did her whole ‘background check’ on you, or whatever you would want to call it, she found you used to play softball?”

“Yes, I’ve played since I was five,” She confirmed with a nod, “Still do, occasionally,”

“Well, the FBI has this little team I play on, and next weekend we’re going against the secret service, but we’re short one player, one of us has an injury. I convinced Spencer to fill in,” he noticed Y/N’s shocked expression, “Yeah, I know. I convinced him to fill in, really because no one else wanted to, and we went to practice yesterday-”

“Oh, yes! He’s got a huge bruise on his cheek, he said it was from some special training though,” Y/N laughed, “I guess he was embarrassed. He was hit by a ball?”

“Yes, he was on the grass fifteen minutes into our practice. It’s bad. He doesn’t even want to practice anymore, but I need him for that game. We haven’t beaten the secret service in years.”

“So you want me to convince him?” She concluded.

“Not just that. Maybe he’ll be more willing to learn if you’re also there to teach him?” 

“Hm,” 

Derek frowned, “Please, Y/N?”

She playfully narrowed her eyes at him, “How much?”

“What?”

“How much did you bet on this game?”

“Oh,” he awkwardly cleared his throat, “Five hundred,”

“Damn,” she whistled, “We gotta whip Spencer into shape,”

___________________

Spencer loved Y/N.

He loved her dearly.

However, right now he hated her with a burning passion.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Morgan asked as Spencer ran from home to first base. “What if this just makes him quit again?”

She had Spencer running laps. “He won’t.”

He only did two runs around the diamond before he came back to them, panting dramatically, hands on his knees, “Why… why do I have to… do this?” he gasped.

“Because, drama king, when you hit that ball, which you will, you need to be able to get to the bases on time,” Y/N replied, handing him a bottle of water.

“This is hopeless,” he began to carefully sip the water, not wanting to choke in his desperation for hydration. 

“We just started, baby” Y/N sighed, rubbing his back, “Now, c’mon, break’s over. Two more laps and we’ll practice catching and throwing,”

“I hate you,” Spencer huffed, handing the water back to her. However, he went back to running. 

“I love you too, darling,” Y/N rolled her eyes with a soft laugh. She crossed her arms over her chest and smiled as he clumsily ran along the diamond. 

Morgan glanced at her, “Thanks for this.”

“Of course. I love seeing Spencer suffer,” She joked with a chuckle, watching her lanky boyfriend move. He was so cute, despite the fact he looked incredibly pissed off. She sighed, soft smile on her lips, “I know you guys are all probably iffy about me, but… I do love him. Genuinely, I do.” 

Morgan’s lips curled up, “I know.”

Spencer finished his second lap, looking at Y/N and Morgan with an annoyed expression, “Okay,” he panted, “I did it. Now what?”

“Catching and throwing,” Y/N slipped on her glove, grabbing a ball, “Alright, we’ll start with the basics.”

“How hard can it be?” Spencer said, putting on his glove (which Y/N had broken in for him). 

“Eh, best not talk, you might end up with two bruised cheeks,” Morgan chuckled, nudging him. He was not amused.

“Alright,” Y/N began, “When you throw the ball to someone, you have to aim for the other person’s chest. As a beginner, you can practice by using the hand you’re not throwing with, so the gloved hand, to aim. Like this,” Y/N faced Morgan, holding out her gloved hand and throwing with the other. Morgan caught the ball with ease. “See?” Morgan threw the ball back at her the same way, which she caught. “You try.” She tossed the ball to Reid, who was, like, two feet away.

He fumbled the ball, scrambling for it as it landed on the ground. Once it was in his hand, he stood up awkwardly. Spencer got into position, following Y/N’s instructions. He threw the ball to Morgan, it landed a few feet in front of him.

“You’re releasing it too late,” Y/N explained, “Try again”

Once the ball was in his hand again, he took a deep breath, throwing it again. It flew way past Morgan’s head this time.

“Okay, at least you got a strong throw,” Y/N said, trying to stay positive, “Now you released it a little too early. We’re getting somewhere. Try again.”

A few tries later, the trio went on to catching. It ended with Spencer thrown onto the grass once again in a starfish position, Y/N and Morgan both running to his side. 

“Well, now your cheeks match,” she said, making Spencer groan. 

They decided to end the fieldwork, getting Spencer to bat next. He had a helmet on and everything, determined to not actually get concussed. 

“Alright, baby,” Y/N began, handing him the bat, “Knees shoulder-width apart. Bend your knees slightly. This elbow up,” she gently touched his arm, bringing up his elbow, “Keep your eye on the ball. The ball should be chest-height when thrown to you. If it’s a bad pitch, don’t swing.” 

Morgan goes to pitch, Reid’s brows furrowed as he eyed the ball. 

“Hold on,” Y/N stopped him, “I can see the gears turning in your head. No calculations, none of that smart boy stuff. Just put on a mean face, spit in front of you, and hit that home run.”

“Spit?” Spencer gasped, “That’s disgusting.”

“It works,” Y/N shrugged.

“I’m not doing that,” he deadpanned, making her giggle. He faced Morgan, a determined look on his face. “Let’s do this,” 

“Hell yeah, baby,” Y/N grinned. 

With a grin, Morgan pitched the ball to Spencer, who grunted, swinging the bat as hard as he can.

Losing his grip in the process, the bat flying through the air. 

__________________

A week had passed, game day approaching fast. The BAU all sat together to cheer on Spencer and Morgan, Y/N awkwardly with them. Garcia was friendly enough, yapping away, which caused Y/N to yap away as well.

Until it was Spencer's turn to bat. 

Y/N rushed to the fence, clapping, “You got this, baby!” He turned his head and gave her a look that resembled a deer caught in headlights. Prior to the game, she said she won't embarrass him. She had to promise it, because he knew how competitive she was.

Spencer gave her a thumbs up, going to the home plate and getting into position.

“Bend those knees, baby,” Y/N called. Members of the secret service glanced at each other smugly, making her scowl.

Spencer did as told, eyeing the ball nervously. The pitcher was a mean-looking guy with a vicious bulldog expression. He pitched the ball, and Spencer squeaked, swinging at nothingness as the ball flew past him.

“Nice try, baby, nice try!” Y/N said. He turned his head to glare at her, before looking back at the pitcher. “Oops,” she said, making Garcia giggle.

Spencer ended up striking out, incredibly embarrassed. He had a girlfriend coaching him at the stands and a team that was completely pissed at his inability to even catch the ball. He was humiliated.

Until he turned his head, seeing Y/N, camera in hand, taking pictures of him with a huge smile on her face. She grinned, doing a finger heart, and Spencer felt his spirits lift slightly, raising his hand and doing one back at her.

And then a ball went flying into his abdomen. 

After that setback, the FBI was back to batting. Morgan landed on third, this guy Ron at second. The FBI was at two outs already, losing to the secret service by one point. 

And it was Spencer's turn to bat.

He heard some other agents groan from the dugout, making him feel like absolute shit. As he trudged to the home plate, the secret service members were all chuckling to themselves, already knowing they won another year in a row. 

Spencer felt awful.

Then he passed Y/N. She had a determined look on her face as she stood in front of the fence. “Baby, he's a shitty pitcher. Don't swing at every pitch.” 

Spencer took a deep breath, nodding. “O-Okay.”

She cracked a smile, “You got this. Make them cry. I already don’t like them.”

He laughed, nodding and going to the home plate. Morgan nodded from third, and Spencer clenched his fists around the bat.

Putting on a mean face, he gathered the courage to spit, staring at the pitcher straight in the eye (who looked a tad bit grossed out). He planted his feet shoulder width apart, bent those damn knees, had that elbow raised.

The pitcher threw his first ball, and as instinct, Spencer swung, missing. He cursed under his breath.

“Chin up, baby, chin up!”

Spencer turned his head to Y/N, who was smiling wide. Then his team, all cheering for him in the stands. His family.

The pitcher threw again but Spencer got himself, not swinging the bat.

“Good job, baby, that pitch sucked!” Y/N said proudly. She paused, “I mean, it didn't suck…”

“We're going to get kicked out,” Rossi muttered to Hotch, who chuckled softly in agreement.

The ball went to Spencer again, and this time, with a low growl, he swung hard, bat connecting with the ball and sending it flying.

Everyone gasped, watching the ball descend into the air, until Y/N shouted, “RUN!”

Spencer snapped out of his trance, bolting towards first base while Derek sprinted towards home. Once at first, Y/N shouted for him to keep going, and so he did, rushing to second.

Longues burning, he dashed for home, throwing himself onto the plate.

And saving the game.

The FBI erupted into cheers, everyone rushing towards him and hauling him to his feet, slapping him on the back and shouting in joy. After a few hollers, Spencer was lifted off of his feet, laughing excitedly after their victory.

Once the crowd dispersed, Spencer immediately ran to Y/N who was waiting for him, a big grin on her face. She already had her arms open, which he dove into.

“You saw that, right?!” Spencer asked her, practically vibrating in eagerness.

“I did! I told you spitting works!”

He was pretty sure the spitting had nothing to do with it, but he didn't argue. “I can’t believe I made a home run!” He pulled away to greet his team, but Y/N stopped him.

“Jesus, baby, you’re lucky you didn't trip. How embarrassing that would have been,” She chuckled, gesturing to his untied sneakers. She kneeled down, tying them for him.

Prentiss, who was still sitting with the rest of the BAU, noticed the exchange from the corner of her eye.

Maybe Y/N wasn't too bad.

When Y/N finished tying his shoes, she stood up and kissed his rosy cheeks, red in embarrassment. She then patted his back and nodded, silently telling him to go to his team.

With a grin, Spencer rushed off to them, babbling about his hit.

_______

A few weeks had passed, and Y/N was with some friends at a softball field, getting ready for a game. Slipping on her glove, she turned her head, smiling at Spencer who was seated at the bleachers. He waved, and that's when she noticed Derek and Penelope were sitting next to him.

Y/N's eyes widened and she grinned, waving back at them.

Then, surprising her even more, Emily Prentiss took a seat with them.

It seemed that, little by little, Y/N was winning over the BAU.

[pearlfeline]

rookie

peter parker x fem!reader

word count: 900+

tw: black eye

a/n: this is short and it was in my drafts forever. and it was shorter than this before i added some stuff last night. posting it now for some validation and i want to feel better for my job interview tomorrow lol. hope its good enough.

“plwase unlokc your window!! OMW”

“I told him not to text and swing.” You mumbled to yourself.

You huffed, making your way to the window to save him the trouble and just lifted it wide open.

Peter flops in immediately, earning a yelp from you.

“Are you crazy?!” You held your hand to your chest.

“Heeeeelp.” He groans. Peter tugs at his mask, rolling his head back for you to see.

He had a black eye. “Make sure when you fall, you don’t land face first into a fire hydrant.” He tries his best to pry his swollen eye open.

“Since when do you fall?” You shake your head. Not expecting an answer, you walk off to the kitchen and open the freezer, grabbing a bag of assorted frozen fruit.

You come back to Peter flipping through channels on your TV, slumped on the bed.

“Put this on your eye.”

Peter gingerly takes the bag, holding it up to his bruise.

”Why are you getting hurt in the middle of the night?”

“Avengers make mistakes too.” He grumbled.

“Peter. It’s late.” You sighed.

“I know I know but I needed your help specifically.” He sits up mirroring the posture of someone who would hold a corporate meeting.

“Do my makeup please.”

You stare at Peter expressionless.

“Like with the skin paint thing.” He adds.

“For your black eye?”

“PLEEEAAASE! I can’t have May see me with another black eye. She said if the kids keep picking on me she’s gonna call the school.”

You roll your eyes, motioning him to follow you to your makeup drawer.

“Concealer.” You handed him the small bottle and heard him repeat after you.

“Concealer.” He nods.

“How long will this last?” He twists it open.

“Stop, you’re gonna dry it out. And not forever. So I’ll let you borrow it to reapply in the morning.”

“How do I do that?” He starts blinking rapidly the same time your finger pats into his under eye.

“No blinking! Just do what I’m doing here. See? You don’t even need a sponge sometimes.”

You try to ignore how close you were to him. Seeing Peter from this proximity was something you’d never think to do. You never noticed how many little freckles he had. They’re so faint. He had a little stubble from running around all day and chapped lips. Your eyes follow the line of his bottom lip, like a crack in the pavement. You could feel his breathing hit your hand as you pat into his skin. As you look up from his lips, you find him staring at you back.

“Done.” You reeled your hand back, clearing your throat.

Peter looks at himself through your small light up mirror. Seems simple enough.

“See? Good as new. Just a little swollen.” You comb his curl away from his forehead so he could clearly see the coverage.

“You’re the best.” He stares at his reflection in awe.

“I know.” You shrugged.

“Don’t touch it or it’ll come off.” You grab a small pouch to put the concealer in.

“Here. Don’t lose it. I splurged for this one.” You hand him the pouch and he nods profusely.

“Guarding it with my life.” He puts it in the small pocket of his backpack.

“Thank you.” He smiles.

“No problem.” You avoided his eyes, hopefully he didn’t see the heat rising to your cheeks. “Don’t keep May waiting.”

Peter nods, giving an awkward wave. “Right. See ya.”

Peter jumps out onto the fire escape. Quietly this time. Out of sight.

“See ya.” You said quietly to yourself.

The next morning, you woke up to a series of messages from Peter.

“she didnt suspect a thing HAHAHA” 12:32 AM

“thank u again btw” 12:33 AM

“it hurts to blink.” 12:34 AM

“ok goodnight ill let you know how it lasts thru the night.” 12:34 AM

“hi it disappeared a little bit but im gonna add some more i hope that’s ok” 9:12 AM

You bit your lip, your finger hovering over the facetime button. You click it without thinking too much of it, waiting for him to answer.

Peter comes into frame with a newly pale complexion. His entire face was covered in concealer.

“Hi.” He grins at the camera, oblivious to how ghostly he looked. This would’ve scared you if he didn’t answer the call in that ridiculous angle.

“Peter…” You sighed.

“What? Did I miss a spot?”

“…No. You can’t possibly miss any more spots I don’t think.”

Peter frowns at the camera, he thought he did well.

“Too much?” He chuckled, embarrassed.

You roll your eyes.

“This stuff covers everything. I don’t have freckles anymore.” He runs away at his cheek, showing that it wasn’t coming off.

“Did May see you yet today?” You sighed.

“No.. Should I take this off?”

Before you could answer, May quickly knocks on Peter’s door, and doesn’t wait to open the door.

“Hey, I’m thinking pizza for lunch-“

Peter turns to look at May and you could see her blurry face peek through behind Peter's shoulder on your screen. She widens her eyes and blinks a couple times.

“What… What is that?”

“Sunscreen.” Peter blurts out.

“Y/N and I are going to the beach.”

May knits her brows together, thinking if that’s really believable or not.

“There’s no beach near by.”

Peter silently stares at his aunt.

“...I’m eating this pizza with or without you .” May shrugs. “Have fun at the… beach.” She gives Peter a look and then closes the door.

Peter turns his attention back to his phone.

“The beach?” You squeaked out, attempting to stifle your laugh.

“I would hang up if I didn’t need help taking this off.” Peter says flatly.

You let out a groan. “Just get over here.”

[copperbadge]

Radio Free Monday

Good morning everyone, and welcome to Radio Free Monday!

Ways to Give:

Edminister Engler is a recent widower who has now been diagnosed with cancer; he doesn't have health coverage and is too sick to work, so is raising funds to help find an oncologist and seek treatment. You can read more and support the fundraiser here.

secondalto was in a car accident in February that totaled her car, and she missed work through the end of the school year; insurance was slow to pay out and she didn't get another car (necessary for her job) until last month. Due to the staggered nature of her work, she is facing car and insurance payments, plus gas and other bills, that she won't be able to pay before they are due. She is raising funds for bills and is also offering fic beta services and handicrafts in return for donations; you can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

songspinner9 linked to a fundraiser for Wren, a young, chronically ill person trying to stay active in their community and studying for a Library Science degree. Insurance will not cover the new wheelchair they need to achieve their goals, so they are fundraising for the wheelchair and power assist; you can read more and support the fundraiser here.

Anon linked to a fundraiser for meowdistract/hauntedrph, a friend with Guillain-Barre Syndrome, which leaves her with limited mobility and weakness. She's offering commissions and raising funds via donation to help pay off debt and treat herself a little for her 30th birthday tomorrow. You can read more, reblog, and find giving/commission information here and there are also links to wishlists and donation options here.

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Beth linked to First Draft Detroit, a Detroit metro region nonprofit intended to replace NaNoWriMo; they're holding their first fundraiser on October 5th. If you are local to Detroit you can buy a ticket to play one of several TTRPGs, plus a silent auction and a bake sale; if you are not local you can still donate to support the org. You can read more, buy a ticket, and support the fundraiser here.

Recurring Needs:

loversdoom has recently been diagnosed with PCOS and needs help to afford the prescribed birth control pills on top of living expenses and dental bills; you can read more, reblog, and find giving information here or give via paypal here.

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memprime linked to a fundraiser for a friend, virtualalternative, who needs help with cat vet bills after their cat had several blockages; you can read more, reblog, and find giving information here.

And this has been Radio Free Monday! Thank you for your time. You can post items for my attention at the Radio Free Monday submissions form. If you're new to fundraising, you may want to check out my guide to fundraising here.

[musamora]

𝖙𝖆𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖆 𝖘𝖎𝖈𝖐 𝖘/𝖔 「𝔣𝔶𝔬𝔡𝔬𝔯 𝔡𝔬𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔢𝔳𝔰𝔨𝔶」 ༉‧₊˚

from anonymous ⇢ "could you write some hc's about fyodor taking care of a sick s/o? love your work btw!"

content. gn!reader. illnesses (implied pneumonia and influenza), hurt/comfort, dizziness, badly translated russian, cute little headcanons. not proofread. 1.8k+ words.

author's note. thank you for the request! i've been in a bit of a writer's funk lately, so hopefully my little ramblings are good ٩(*•͈ ꇴ •͈*)و ̑̑❀

would you like to see more? fill out the taglist or comment under this post.

synopsis. it had been the perfect day for enjoying the sunshine, only for you to succumb to the symptoms of an unknown illness. unluckily for you, fyodor is gone on a mission, so it's time to fend for yourself.

You had been stuck home for weeks, only allowed to leave for groceries and emergencies. Fyodor was away on a dangerous mission inside the city and wanted to ensure that you were safe and sound at home. It was reassuring to receive letters from him since he was close by, but you had started to succumb to cabin fever.

But tomorrow was supposed to be the perfect day.

You took a cursory peek at the weather the night before, pleased to find local climate conditions suitable for finishing your chores while soaking up some sun. It had been either too hot or too rainy for you to leave the house, but tomorrow would provide the prime opportunity to embrace some fresh air.

But it was not meant to be.

"God," you hissed, stretching your disjointed limbs when the sun blinded you as it peeked between the shutters. Weather conditions were perfect, but it seemed your body raised another issue. Your muscles ached with each pop of your joints — strange, but you assumed you had slept wrong. And then your head began to throb. It was small at first but only increased in pressure and annoyance as the day continued. Your throat was the worst of it, an unfluctuating burning sensation aggravating your nerves every time you swallowed.

You originally wrote off these symptoms — the shift of weather probably had a negative effect on your body. It was nothing some good-ol’ fashioned pain medication couldn’t fight off. A minor cold or headache would be manageable as long as you didn’t strain yourself too much, and you refused to dampen such nice weather, so you trekked onward.

The beginning of your day started in the garden, your fingers fast at work toiling with weeds and watering plants. However, the elevated sensation of spasms crawled up the muscles of your arm, making your fingers twitch with every movement. You fussed, massaging your palm with your fingers, and decided that you had enough gardening for the day — there was no way you could continue in this condition. 

So instead, you embraced the brush of air-conditioning against your sweat-slicked skin, sliding the door shut unceremoniously as you trudged your way over to the kitchen counter. A mound of paperwork loomed ahead, awaiting examination and signatures. It seemed like Fyodor reveled in giving you these menial tasks, either to add or to evade your boredom. You shuffled through the top of the stack, carrying a bundle to sit next to the conditioning unit — otherwise, you’d be tempted to stick ice cubes against your skin to relieve the heat-based dizziness that stirred the neurons of your brain.

Tick. Tick.

The clock clicked onward, and you found your hands more cramped and your eyes more and more strained. Even paperwork had become an arduous task, your muscles twinging with pins and needles in the frigid air. So after you signed your name for what seemed like the thousandth time, you placed the pen and papers on the floor and called it a day. You weren’t getting anything else done in this position, and you honestly did not want to be awake for this day any longer.

It seemed to be one of those days, days when the world mocked your misery with its delightful weather, watching in humor as you stumbled over your own feet to crawl away from its intense gaze. You burrowed into the sheets like a rabbit, the cotton comforter cocooning around your body, substituting the presence of your missing lover. The scent of pine permeated from the sheets — you had sprayed the bed each morning with cologne whenever Fyodor was away — as your muscles unwound, eyes fluttering shut as a tiny smile graced your features.

But the nap did not help.

Instead of arising from your bed with a sense of refreshment and relief, the pounding of your skull ran tremors through your body. Your vision had split into blurred shards of light, hands shaking as you guided yourself into the bathroom. You placed a thermometer against your forehead after a quick rummage through your drawers, leaning against the wall as you waited for the beep. Your legs wobbled as you fought back sleep, wincing when the thermometer rang.

102.2°F.

That was pretty damn high.

Body temperature was the most concerning aspect of your condition, and most of your other symptoms would leave if you had taken care of it, so you focused on that first. After waddling into the kitchen, you strained to reach for a cup inside the kitchen cabinet to fill with water. The entire process became more tedious than usual, and the water splashing against your hands only made your fingers cramp. You popped the medication cap open, downing the pills and chugging the water with conviction before slamming the cup onto the counter.

You stumbled your way into the living room., throwing yourself on the couch as your legs gave up underneath you. Your feet toyed with a blanket on the end, flicking it across your body as you struggled to find the proper ratio for the best cooling effect. It became an on-again, off-again struggle before you gave up, groaning into the scratchy decorative pillow under your head.

Each breath was a struggle, the pressure on your chest acting like a lead weight slowly sinking under the water. You braced yourself on your back, feeling the expansion and contraction of your chest with your hands, fearing that if you stopped tracking each breath, you would stop breathing entirely. 

Shit.

The world went hazy, black dots crawling at the edges of your vision.

Creak!

You moaned, clutching onto the pillow as you covered your ears to shield them from the obtrusive sound. The footsteps that began to enter the room paused before someone rushed to your side. That same person seemed to be talking to you — yes, you knew they had to be — a hand guiding you to sit straight and a gentle voice coaxing your eyes open. It was difficult to see who it was, but that velvety Russian accent made it easier.

"F-Fyodor," you mumbled, squinting at him through clouded eyes. He leaned your body against the back of the couch, kissing your forehead to feel for your temperature. His brow furrowed, eyes examining your body as it tremoured with chills. 

If he had known about this, he would’ve returned sooner.

"Я тут, Я тут. Ты не один, любимая . Я тут."

The moment he strides through the doorway and spots your doubled-over body on the couch, he’ll assess the situation and act with precision. He is an intelligent man, which makes his first instinct to address the issues he can and find the fastest way to cool you down. And knowing him, he would be able to identify your specific ailment with around 95% accuracy.

He may not be a medical professional, but he is well-read and has extensive knowledge of human biological makeup and anatomy. He would also have access to your medical records (whether you know it or not) — it makes it easier for him to look after you, but he’ll never tell you that. 

So his first priority is both bringing your temperature down and stabilizing you. He will refresh the sheets inside your bedroom (smirking at the familiar scent of cologne), laying you down with a cool rag on your forehead. Any time you wake up, you are guaranteed to have water situated inches away from your face. Despite your sore throat, he will not allow you to gargle any salt water. He doesn’t want you to get any more dehydrated.

"You need to drink, мышка. You won’t get better if you're dehydrated."

Your entire bedroom will have turned into a cozy den, allowing you to rest without going completely stir-crazy. A heating pad would lie beneath your back, and a humidifier would be adjusted near your face to clear out your lungs — that’s one of the things that worried him the moment he walked through the door. He was concerned you were slowly suffocating, which he knows is one of the worst ways to go.

He would also massage your sore muscles. Enjoy this treatment while it lasts because he wouldn’t normally do this when you were fully cognizant. He is a bit softer to you in this state because it reminds him of the fragility of the human body. He often forgets (more like doesn’t take into consideration) that his own body is weakened due to his anemia, so this is an excellent wake-up call.

You are going to have a rare chance to eat his food! Fyodor is usually too busy to make any meals, so you have the prime opportunity to enjoy some classic Russian dishes — delicious sour rassolnik and hearty solyanka soups, perfect for soothing your throat and filling your stomach.

After all of this, he would force you to take a bath — but at a lukewarm temperature to ensure you wouldn’t worsen your fever. He would want to get rid of any germs as soon as possible, so he’d make sure that every inch of your body is scrubbed down.

And if you aren’t married, he will not get in the tub with you. He is a traditional man (i.e., no sex until after marriage, etc.), and he is already pushing it by helping you bathe in the first place — because as much as this man secretly loves your body, he has to "maintain the sanctity of your relationship." Though the entire experience would make him think twice about waiting to get married.

If you are married, he might get in the tub with you if you insist. He finds that he can’t say no to you as efficiently when you’re in this much pain, and you both enjoy the feeling of being so close to one another. 

He would still sleep in the same bed as you, but he won’t do any sort of cuddling (not that he does it much in the first place). At most, he’ll hold your hand as you fall asleep, letting you know that he’s there. He’d also read to you if you were struggling with sleeping, ensuring that you get a proper night’s rest.

It is rare to see this man taking care of you in a non-discrete way, so revel in it while it lasts. He will maintain a calm composure throughout the duration of your sickness, but he is genuinely worried for your health. He hates seeing you in pain, and he will do anything to ease it.

For the following weeks, he would not allow you to exert yourself until you have fully recovered. If he sees you overworking yourself, you are immediately chastised and sent back to bed.

"Приле́чь, любимая моя. Ты нужда́ешься в о́тдыхе."

He makes sure to set up a system so that he’ll be notified whenever you’re sick, which could be from having a co-worker monitor you (though he doesn’t like the idea of anyone besides himself having eyes on you) or setting up a camera system in your home. He wants to be aware whenever you’re sick so that, at the very least, he can be prepared for when he arrives back home.

"Идти́ спать, мой Дорогая. Я буду здесь, когда ты проснешься."

мышка = mouse я тут, я тут. ты не один, любимая. я тут. = i’m here, i’m here. you’re not alone, my love. i’m here. приле́чь, любимая моя. ты нужда́ешься в о́тдыхе. = lie down, my love. you need rest. идти́ спать, мой дорогая. я буду здесь, когда ты проснешься. = go to bed, my dear. i'll be here when you wake up.

TAGLIST: @imhandicapableofmath @seisitive

© MUSAMORA 2023 — do not repost or modify my works for any reason. do not steal graphics w/o explicit permission. reblogs are appreciated.

[somber-sapphic]

AheM 🌸 Im a secret lover for hugs so I’ll gladly accept and reciprocate :) and yep sorry I just fuLLy fully read the whole post :’) that definitely goes out to them and you and whoever gets unnecessary stupid hate. Heheh well if you don’t mind I’ll ask for something under this and it’s more than okay if you took like months just take ur time🤭 naw I’m sorry you didn’t have a great day, that’s really shit, but I’m super happy you feel better and hopefully today and tomorrow is a better day! And remember I’ve got two shoulders in case and anytime🫡💪 how’d you know? I’m like always dehydrated, dehydration is scared of me ahaha. But hey most if the time it’s always the people giving advice aren’t following it… so you better be drinking plenty of water too!! And as for the request, would it be possible to ask for a WandaNat with like pregnant reader or reader already recovering from a bad injury with prompts like ‘Ill timed’ and ‘ it’s nothing’🫣 if not that’s okay but ily thank you thank you your amazing eat drink SLEEP, take care of yourself please :)) <3

Are You Staying

⧽ Notes: Hi! So, I don't write anything for pregnant anyone, but here's a sick and hurt reader for you!

⧽Summary: Reader is injured badly after a mission, leaving them with an infection.

⧽Word Count: 1665

��� Masterlists 〕

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You were so, so tired of laying in bed, but your girlfriends wouldn’t let you get up. Apparently, when you ignore an injury for so long that the infection turns into sepsis you are no longer allowed to make decisions for yourself. Who knew? 

Well, there you were, laying in bed, struggling to focus on the book that you were holding in slightly trembling hands. The large gash along your side was beginning to throb again, indicating that you needed another dose of pain medicine, but it made you groggy and you didn't like it. 

You were already feeling sort of fuzzy, your mind blurring in and out. Your head ached and you were starting to wonder if this was more than just the damn lingering infection. Bruce had finally taken you off the IV antibiotics but you were warned that it was vital for you to take the oral ones on a strict schedule to ensure that you didn’t get worse again. 

You rubbed your throat gently and cleared it, trying to get rid of the tickle that had taken up residence there in the past hour or so. It was when the first sneeze came that you finally connected the dots. 

The pain in your sinuses, the slightly runny nose that had required you to wipe it every few minutes, the inability to get warm, the overwhelming feeling of fatigue. It wasn't the infection. You had a cold. You had a damn cold. Of all things, you had gotten yourself sick. Your girlfriends were going to kill you. 

Deciding that it was probably best to keep them out of the loop, you put the book aside and curled up under the blankets in a last-ditch effort to sleep the bug off. Maybe if you’d noticed earlier you would’ve had time to get ahead of it, but for now, you would at least sleep. Putting off rest had probably not helped the situation. Fuck. This was going to be a very long few days. 

When you woke you were incredibly disoriented. The pain in your side was so bad you felt like you wanted to throw up and for some reason, you couldn’t move. This was wrong, this was not okay. 

You managed to sit up with a lot of effort but your head was spinning, the room tilting around you in a way that made you wonder if you should call your girlfriends. They probably wouldn’t mind, they weren’t doing anything important, they just had a lot of busy work to do. You were also supposed to be doing busy work if you felt up to it, but there was absolutely no way you could read, much less hold a pen.

A harsh fit of coughing wracked your body, your lungs burning in agony as your side screamed at you that you needed to stop, that you needed to sit still and never move again, but you couldn’t stop coughing. 

You doubled over despite the protest of your body and hacked until you finally managed to cough up a glob of something green and absolutely disgusting. You leaned over the side of the bed and spit into the trashcan with an agonized groan. 

No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t get a full breath of air into your lungs. Everything hurt, everything was miserable, and the world was definitely ending. Tears rolled down your cheeks which you were sure were flushed with fever and you were regretting not taking the pain medication earlier. Now you were in too much pain to get up and find the pills. 

You managed to roll over and grabbed your phone, gasping aloud as you pleaded with the world that your stitches stayed intact. You really didn’t want to stain your bed with any unnecessary blood, the girls would probably be upset, they loved this comforter. 

With pain blurring in your vision you managed to click on the icon for Wanda’s name and hit speaker, absolutely no way that you would be able to hold the phone up to your ear. 

“Hi sweet girl, what’s up? Are you alright?” The woman’s voice lilted over the phone, immediately calming you down. She had a way about her, her mere presence, whether in person or over the phone, always served to make you feel safer. 

“I-I need…Wanda…Wanda it hurts…” You said through quiet sobs, your words punctuated by a particularly harsh sneeze that made you cry out. 

“Okay, okay love, give us five minutes. I’m going to stay on the phone with you. Are you bleeding? Can you check for me?” She asked, you could hear that she was running, another set of footsteps behind her. 

“No.” You whimpered, desperate for them to be back. You wanted them to fix it, you wanted them to make everything stop hurting, you wanted them to magically cure your sickness, which Wanda may actually be able to do. 

“Alright baby, just stay still. Wanda and I will be there soon. Keep breathing.” That was Natasha, her voice rushed as footsteps pounded in the background. You coughed and let out a sob, curling into a ball as your eyes and nose streaming. Part of you wished that the pain would just take over so that you could pass out and stop feeling it. 

You had almost slipped into that unconsciousness when the door slammed open and you felt gentle hands on your cheeks, one of the girls pleading with you to open your eyes. You obeyed, but mostly because of the harsher tone that you were sure came from Natasha. 

You stared at their blurry figures, wondering how much of this was the fever and how much was the injury. 

“Hey baby girl, there you are. Here, just want you to take this, okay? Swallow for me.” Wanda slipped a pill into your mouth and Natasha followed it with a cool bottle pressed to your lips. You took a little sip, but the cold water grated against your throat in an incredibly uncomfortable way. Every molecule in your body was ordering you to just stop. Your body was done. 

“Oh Y/n, you’re burning up. Why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you say something sooner?” The witch cooed, wiping away tears as quickly as they could. 

“I-it’s nothin’, s’nothin. J’st hurts.” You breathed, already feeling the effects of the strong cocktail that was whatever Bruce had prescribed for you. 

“Do you think the infection’s back? We’ve been making sure that they take the antibiotic, should we call Banner?” Natasha asked, speaking to you as if you weren’t in the room, literally sitting right there. Of course, you were so out of it that you may as well have been in space, floating away from reality. 

“Y/n, love, Nat’s going to check your side,” Wanda said, well aware that you weren’t listening even in the slightest as the drug kicked into your system. She could feel the heat radiating off of your skin and was absolutely panicking, but doing a good job of keeping it under control. 

Natasha very carefully lifted up your shirt and peeled back the bandage to reveal a thankfully clean, not bleeding cut with all of the stitches still intact. She let out a sigh of relief and kissed your stomach right next to the injury. 

You sneezed pitifully into the pillow and whined, looking up at Wanda with big, sad eyes. She grabbed a tissue and wiped your nose tenderly, her whole body relaxing as she took in the situation. 

“You’re sick, aren’t you?” Natasha shifted and frowned at the two of you, sitting right by your head. You shifted into her lap and nodded, muffling a fit of chesty coughs into her leg. The assassin rubbed your back while the brunette by your feet hummed her disapproval. 

“Okay, Y/n/n, let’s check your temperature and we’ll get you some medicine.” The thermometer was still there since they had been monitoring your temperature for infection reasons, but now you had a fever for a whole new reason! Your body was trying to kill you for something new!

“Open.” You glanced over at Wanda and pouted slightly, nuzzling closer to your other girlfriend, the one who wasn’t going to make you do something that you didn’t want to. You didn’t hurt anymore and you weren’t about to stay awake until the pain came back. 

“Just listen to her,” Natasha ordered, poking you in the face to get you to open your mouth. Your first instinct was to bite her, but she was too quick for that. The witch placed the thermometer under your tongue and you let it stay there, not in the mood to fight either one of the women. 

The redhead you were sitting on stroked your hair as you waited for the stick to beep, unknowingly lulling you closer to sleep. 

“102.4, that’s not great. Y/n, why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Wanda murmured, scooching up on the bed so that she was laying beside you, still wearing relatively comfortable clothes. You rolled over and pressed your head into her chest, mumbling some excuse that no one could make out under your breath. 

“Okay babe, take some more Tylenol and you can sleep.” You lifted your head and opened your mouth, not caring enough to take it yourself. If they wanted you to be medicated, they would be medicating you. Natasha rolled her eyes while Wanda chuckled and she helped you swallow the pills before laying you back down. 

“You stayin’?” You slurred tiredly, cuddling up against the Sokovian. 

“Of course, we’re staying, dummy. Apparently, you can’t be trusted by yourself.” The redhead grumbled, laying down on your other side. She pulled the blankets up over the three of you and kissed your shoulder blade. Wanda kissed your forehead and you sniffled, snuggling deep into the blankets. You could deal with the cold later, for now, you just wanted to be held. 

[sparring-spirals]

hello. to the person who sent me the ask about how to navigate fandom being kind of Blegh especially after. Exciting (contentious) moments like these. hello i am. Incredibly tired and the quick answer I wanted to give has ballooned intonlike 15 paragraphs i am not coherent enough to edit down rn so. instead. my Most Critical TL;DR so i can edit and post the ask tmr.

FUCK this still got long. putting a readmore in sorry.

- Do not feel bad about curating your fandom experience! Seriously. Blocking people or even not acknowledging certain people's posts does not have to be like. A moral judgement or anything. Follow people who you want to follow. Get friends who you can yell privately with.

- Do not feel bad about stepping away if seeing discussion and discourse is making you feel objectively Worse. Fandom is not a moral obligation, and you dont do yourself or anyone else a favor by continuing to look at things that upset you and making yourself feel worse. I cannot emphasize this enough. If looking at fandom stuff is exclusively making you feel worse, do yourself a kind gesture and. stop looking. u can leave. hit da bricks. etc.

- like related to the above, unfortunately there will always be some people who are just. Wrong On The Internet. You will not convince or correct them all. Nor can you stop them from posting. This is kind of something you just need to live with. Discussion and exploration of various views can be very beneficial! Just like. Yknow. Pick your battles.

- IMO People get really weird about character conflict and it gets quickly into Morally Right Vs Morally Wrong territory PLUS weird projections onto the cast. I have lots of opinions about this but i need to sleep so lets just say. People get weird. Emotions run high. feel free to disengage.

- There's been a lot of Events in the campaign recently, and being disappointed one way or another is understandable. There are different ways to approsch that particular sensation/feeling, but I'd say the biggest thing thats helped me is generally steering away from assuming malice or ill intent from the cast, as well as avoiding getting too caught up in assuming the story I am expecting is the only good iteration that can be told.

oh god this got so long. anyway sorry to the asker ill post the answer maybe tomorrow once ive slept and like. can edit. hopefully this is helpful in the meantime. to folks following me who did Not ask for me on a soapbox. i am very sorry. there will be more.

[the-wip-project]

Bad Brain Days

Today I’m having a bad brain day.

It’s not that my brain is misbehaving. It’s just having a rough time functioning.

You might call it something else, and it has numerous causes, a bad night’s sleep, a flare up of a chronic health condition, medication issues, a short term illness, or simply being overwhelmed with responsibilities.

Whatever the cause, we all have days when our brain doesn’t want to do what it’s supposed to, ie: think.

Which is bad for life in general, and particularly bad for the thinky work of writing.

So what does a committed writer do when faced with a bad brain day?

The first and simplest thing is yield. If your body is telling you to rest, it’s a good idea to heed it.

I don’t advocate for pushing yourself to write every single day. (unless streaks really work well for you, in that case streak on!) It’s especially important if your bad brain days are often caused by feeling overwhelmed.

No doubt you have things you must get done: work, classes, child or elder care, household responsibilities. Things you can’t skip just because you’re not feeling up to it. So do yourself a favor and skip the non-vital tasks, like writing. Just for today.

But perhaps that writing habit thing is starting to catch hold and you’re looking forward to your writing session as something you do for yourself, but sadly your brain just won’t go in the words and ideas direction. What then?

The best thing is to make a list of what you can do. If you have low brain usefulness days frequently, on a good day try coming up with a list of things you can do on slow brain days.

Here’s some ideas to get you started.

1. Read. Skip the social media doom scroll, turn off your devices, and read something on paper. It could be an old favorite that feels comforting, it could be something new and exciting, but either way, focus on what makes the book or story good. We hear a lot about reading critically, and finding fault seems to dominate that. But try reading to admire. Pay attention to what you enjoy, what makes you smile, what makes you feel immersed. Read with the intention of enjoyment.

2. Do something story adjacent. If you like posting about your WIP on socials, find a few good pull quotes and queue them up. Or create a synopsis or pitch to keep on file for whenever someone asks what you’re writing. If you like making visual stuff like mood boards, make one for a scene or character.

3. Feeling up to diving into the work itself? How about updating your outline? Read over what you have written and add whatever changes you’ve made to the outline. It doesn’t have to be complex. Just try making one sentence summaries of each scene. You can do this if you didn’t have an outline to begin with too.

4. Talk to a friend about your writing. Writers need social interaction and if your writing has been consuming a lot of your spare time, just connecting with a friend might be what you need. (and don’t make it all about your writing! Be a good friend!)

5. Make starting tomorrow easier. Do non writing stuff that smooths the way, like tidying up the formatting or layout, creating blank chapters or scenes, or even sketching out a scene without making an attempt to fill in all the blanks.

Finally, don’t make any major decisions about your WIP on a bad brain day. You might do something your regret. Instead make notes on any major cuts or changes that feel needed, and look at them again on a day when you feel good.

And don’t make your writing another burden that makes everything too hard to carry. Tomorrow, when your head is (hopefully) clearer, take the time to assess if your writing is too much. To consider if the goals you’ve set yourself are workable with your current life situation. There’s no shame in dialing things back. If writing 250 words a day is too much, consider reducing it to 200. Or adding in more days off. Or considering a lower pressure project. Writing short fiction instead of tackling The Novel.

Most of all, remember that a solid writing practice is first of all a healthy one. So take care of yourself.

—Maree

Subscribe to my substack to make sure you don't miss a post, chat with me on the WIP Project discord, and tag any posts you make about the challenge with #slomowrino if you want me to see them!

[bekandrew]

Queer Mutual Aid

I've asked for help recently, but we didn't get fully out of the hole yet and it's getting worse. I'm physically disabled and have debilitating PTSD which have made it hellish to find and keep work, particularly outside the house. I've been very ill for most of this past year, including a bout of sepsis where I nearly died. So even my attempts at self-employment have been... less than fruitful overall. I'm also visibly queer/trans in the Deep South, US. We should have been out of the hole this past week, except rent raised to ridiculous because HUD decided I'm not disabled by their standards (?????) so none of my medical expenses count. And I had to put all that aside first so it wouldn't actually get spent on anything. Wife's the one with an actual job outside the house. It pays over minimum but not much more, and not enough for two people to live safely on (especially with my medical expenses). They also have mental disabilities that need to be evaluated that we're only now getting some access for them. Hopefully. Wife's still without a phone currently. They got ripped off by the repair shop they went to and we ended up having to order a new phone anyway because it ended up being cheaper than the further repairs the shop wanted to make on the still not-working phone.

Because Wife is without their phone, they're locked out from the super duper secure government website like food stamps applications. Which we were in the process of when phone broke. We don't have money for groceries. We're nearly out and wife doesn't get paid for another week and a half. We had to entirely skip a planned grocery run. I've already been skipping meals for a while. We're about $90 short for our electric bill due tomorrow. I thought I paid it already. But nope, I hadn't figured in the past due amount when I paid. I'm unsure if we have money for me to make it to both my doctor's appointment on the 29th and the Vocational Rehab assessment on the 4th. I need to pay Uber fare since I can't drive. $55 should give enough padding for both trips and anything else would go toward food. I already rescheduled a post-surgical evaluation, which thankfully wasn't urgent, to a time wife will just be able to drive me. We've been trying to get permission to move my cousin in and applying for various other aid to relieve the situation, but bureaucracy's not been moving fast enough. I have a tip jar, art prints, ttrpg products, and linked commission info at linktr.ee/bekandrew

[pictopye]

Figure Fridays #6:

TLDR: A quieter week – focused more on artwork so I had time to work on Glorfindel, his base, and started working on Strong from Fallout 4 while waiting for paint to dry (literally - Glorfindel & a closet).

The Long Rambley Version: This week I had more free time from housework/renovations after finishing the paint in a closet before we start floor repair. So I got some down time to work on more artistic projects - some zines, sticker designs, a greeting card, etc… My partner & I tend to start releasing zines/stickers & other projects sometime around the new year.

I worked more on Glorfindel – slowly building up his hair, working the blending of his cloak, and refining a lot of the front embellishments of his sash. I have a few more passes for the hair to be done, and I’m considering my options for some washes on the armor in the front to get the bright vibrant green spring feel I’m going for with him – basing his look more on his time in Gondolin.

I also managed to find some excellent rocks in my yard to build up the base a little more till I was happy. I want to go with the final look being similar to post-Gondolin's Fall, but obviously before our man Goldilocks gets his hair yanked by the Balrog. So rocky/cliffs/mountainy vibes. I then affixed him to the base.

While waiting on the layers to dry on Glorfindel I started up on

Figure #3 – Strong from Fallout 4. He got a base coating of a rusty brown color then a good mix of flesh tones and greens dabbled on to him roughly. From there I felt it was too bright & too green so I ended up giving him a wash with some ruddy brown and peach tones which I’m quite pleased with. I’ve started his metal plates out with a metallic teal/blue and started up base tones of the Super Sledge he’s wielding.

That’s pretty much it for this week, thank you all for checking in on the progress! One other thing of note - Hopefully I can get a better photo set up area created before I paint some more – as man oh man I’m cringin’ hard at the photos I’ve taken. My cluttered desk & ill adjusted lighting just ain’t cutting the mustard. Sigh. Another project for Another day!

In other exciting news – going to PHX Zinefest tomorrow to see what folks are upto, see what's popular, etc! It's a fully masked event so we're stoked for a chance to get out for something fun!

[frogofalltime]

15.02.2024

last night i didn't get to sleep until around 3am. i was having a fever, i couldn't stop coughing, i had a sore throat and a headache, as well as period cramps. but i eventually fell asleep.

i woke up at 10am, which was when my first lecture of the day started, so of course i missed that. i got out of bed, ate two toasted bagels and a pear for breakfast, wrote some posts for @animal-of-the-day, spent some time doubled over in pain, etc

i finally forced myself to take a shower because i had another class at 1pm and i didn't want to miss this one, but i definitely couldn't go outside without showering first, i was Very gross. it was a difficult task due to being sick and in pain and gender dysphoria, so i'm really proud of myself for getting it done.

i rushed to class and made it just in time, but i was really exhausted from the walk, in a lot of pain, feeling very ill, and also sweating A Lot. idk why the weather was so warm today. it was literally snowing a week ago lol

after class @etherealspacejelly and some of our other friends were ranting about something so i listened to that for a while and then got myself some soup and a baguette for lunch. i saved half of it for tomorrow :)

i showed robin the shark picture book my mother gave me for my birthday in an attempt to help him calm down. idk if it worked, but it was fun to look at the sharks. then i went to another lecture which was really boring and a waste of time lmao

after that class ended at 5pm i hung out with my friends again for a while and then they went out so i took a short nap on the sofa. when they got back i was planning to go home and eat dinner, but robin was super stressed and i wanted to help by washing their dishes, so i went up to his room and then This happened (which cheered us both up immensely)

it was past 10pm when i finally remembered i was going to wash the dishes, so i did that and then went home. i was laughing and happy stimming the whole time. and thinking about quantum physics

my flatmate gave me the rest of the egg curry and rice her mother cooked, so i ate that with some chopped up cucumber for dinner, and also a banana and some chocolate as a sweet treat, because i was still hungry.

now i'm going to get ready for bed and hopefully sleep. but i'm still not feeling well, so that may not be very successful. but i will try my best !

[cinderella-ish]

Upload Schedule

I've been having a burst of creativity and output lately, which has been awesome! But I start work again tomorrow and I know that'll mean a pretty big drop in output.

I really, really love teaching, but it sucks that being a teacher with a chronic illness means I don't have energy for much of anything else during the school year. Ah well.

Anyway, here's my hopeful upload schedule for the foreseeable future:

Bloom Within Us: every other week

like the flowers and the bees and oneshots for lovers alone wear sunlight (and any non-Furuba oneshots that happen to take over my brain *cough cough ItaFushi cough*): posting as completed (no set schedule)

ichigo ichie and Of Lost Cats and Half-Shadows: alternating monthly (for example, a chapter of ichigo ichie in September would mean a chapter of Of Lost Cats... in October)

The One Who Stays and whatever canon divergence I begin for Fruits Basket Mondays AU week: alternating monthly (similar to the two crossovers)

Right now, this *feels* doable, especially since I have a few chapters already written for Bloom Within Us, but I may need to pull back a bit depending on how it goes (plus I might be starting my masters this year?? so there's that). If that's the case, Bloom Within Us is the priority until it's finished.

I am genuinely excited for all of these fics (lovers alone wear sunlight isn't really a fic, but ykwim) and I have a clear vision for all of them, so it's just a matter of getting the words on the page (always the hard part!).

On another note, I've started translating my own oneshots into French because I apparently didn't have enough projects going on??? And I've been learning how to do digital art and have an Akito-centric project in mind for that??? So those are two more things you'll hopefully see soon! 😅

[crazylittlejester]

i am once again calling out to the void to mandarin wars anon, hope this reaches you dude:

i am still working on ur prompt, and I’m actually working on ANOTHER of ur mini fic prompts rn (this one is gonna stay a mini fic and hopefully ill post it late today or tomorrow). if this ever reaches you dear anon, I know you’ll whack me over the head with a broom for apologizing again, but i do feel bad for not having finished ur first prompt sooner 🥺🥺🥺 it is SHOCKINGLY difficult for a few reasons but i am no quitter

kinda obsessed with our communication method being me screaming to the void and you appearing in my asks on a whim, and i have no idea if youll ever see this, i haven’t heard from you in a while dawg (i think, idk my memory SUCKS), but never fear: I have not forgotten

hope ur having a good day/night wherever you are 🫶

[prestonmonterey]

TLT UPDATE!! BEFORE I GO TO BED

(gods im so tired...)

@vincentaureliuslin @tatsumisheep3

no photos today so heres my cat :P

OPENING NIGHT!!! it went super well!!!!! (i think)

it was PA night so the understudys were percy and annabeth and they killed it!!!!!! :DDDD

also my director gave me a compliment today so im in a good mood (it was somethin along the lines of "you finally did a good job as cerberus" but ill take what i can get...) (i still have beef with him but.. whatever....)

its crazy how fast this show is going and that itll all be over after sunday,, but also i am SO tired bc we literally spend more time at school than at home this week :(

also getting a lotta acne bc im not used to wearing this much make up every day :P

but hey at least ill get to rest a teeny bit on the weekend (just in the morning TwT bc we have matinees)

also my parents and some of my friends are comin tomorrow so they BETTER FUCKIN BUY ME CANDY (i really really really want candygrams... one of the stage managers got like 4 boxes of candy i am so jealous...)

also also also we did the legacy robe last night before preview night and my friend (and mother /ij) got it :DDDD very happy for her

um um um i felt like i had more to say but idk this is already a lot and i cant remember things im kinda tired :P

oh i finally got my camper necklace!!! the beads were missing for like a week but they were just on the table in the costuming room... anyway my friend made it for me during tech class bc shes so so sooo sweet <3 (while i was in math trying to force my friend to study... *stares at neeks* /aff) i got four beads that kinda almost make the ace flag!! (black for tech, silver for the fall play, light blue for this show, and purple for my grade)

idk if i explained it before but all of our necklaces represent how much theater we've done,,, bc its kinda like how long we've been at camp. theres a bead for each grade based on our class colors, and the tlt bead, so everyone gets at least 2. theres also beads for each of the past musicals and plays at school, and a black bead if youve done tech, and a white bead if youve done leadership :D some of the seniors have like most of their necklace filled because of how many shows theyve done

heres another cat pic to keep you engaged and reading this /hj

also also also many many thanks to my wonderful actor and tech friends i would not survive without them (especially thanks to tech bc they have to put up with us actors... /hj) its poseidon's actors first show i think and they have a LOT of quick changes so their section of the rack is,,, kind of a mess. also the lamp for the oracle scene has broken multiple times i think already... and i already left my make up bag out yesterday and my watch in the cubbies today TwT we are a hot mess

my graphic design teacher was acting today :D (the farmer in drive is a teacher role, and they switch out every night) and i love him being so absolutely perplexed by the energy circle before show :333

also i remembered to put setting powder on for the first time,,, and... i forgot that my mom is SO much paler than me TwT (i was very washed out...) so ill probably stick to spray for the rest of the week :P

sorry i really am rambling tonight...

ok i will probably hopefully do at least one more update after strike on sunday!! (depending on how tired i am,, i might just curl up on the floor and sleep after the sunday show actually...) unless something goes horribly wrong,,, then ill probably post about it too

good night!! i need to collapse in bed and try to save up enough energy for tomorrows show :3

have a wonderful day/night and remember to hydrate! (or you'll die straight...)

[squibby0]

heyo!!! (art update)

so my hand is ALLL better now!!! im getting back into the swing of drawing again, and requests are once again being worked on!

though to prevent that from happening again since i was using any and all freetime to draw so i could pump out atleast one drawing a dayyyy, ill be taking things at a more manageable pace! i dont know exactly how frequent of posts this will end up being, but ill try to guarantee atleast 1-2 posts a week! :D

and hopefully tomorrow you guys will get another finished piece! i just got onto the coloring,,, and a little hint is that its a drawing of all of my favorite sans aus! im super stoked for this one, its perfect banner material >:))