#it's why snf is so fun to write to me

[dreamnotnapss]

man this clip represents snf's dynamic so well :') Sapnap asking for affection from George, George baiting him into thinking he's getting it, Sapnap inevitably falling for it bc he thinks this is one of those moments that George will give it to him, George juking him, Sapnap not taking that for an answer and touching his hand anyway, and George being displeased that Sapnap got his way and ripping his hand away. and then they both turn away, Sapnap with a satisfied and soft smile, and George with a miffed smile

that classic back and forth of trying to get the upper hand... that's them your honor

[suddencolds]

Fool Me Twice [3/?]

I had a stressful week and was sort of considering dropping/discontinuing this fic, but then I ended up having fun writing this part last night :’) So here’s part 3—definitely a little different from what I usually write (and I was a little bold with certain decisions, haha). Enjoy! 

Part 3 ft. fake dating, a New Year’s celebration, drunken decisions, implied/referenced contagion (maybe)

You can read Part 1 [here]! (No additional context is needed aside from the previous 2 parts).

—

Margot’s decorated the bathroom nicely— a glass soap dispenser, tied with a singular golden ribbon that seems—intentionally or not—in theme with the decorations outside; a small, fluffy blue rug; a shower curtain lined with silhouettes of raindrops, and one of those scented reed diffusers, scented like bamboo and lemongrass. Neither of which he’s allergic to, to his knowledge, but with this cold, any small push is enough to send him over the—

“hhEH… hehh’IIZSCHEEW!”

The sneeze does nothing—or close to nothing—to relieve the tickle in his nose. Yves desperately hopes that the walls are more soundproof than they appear to be. He reaches blindly for the roll of toilet paper, if only to have something to cover the resounding—

“hEHh… hEH-hHEh-! hhhEH’iTSSCH-Eew! Snf-! hEHH… HEHh’iIZSCHEEw!” 

The sneezes scrape unpleasantly against his throat, enough that he coughs a little, after. He blows his nose into the handful of toilet paper and finds, even after, that his nose is still practically dripping. His excuse to Erika had been nothing more than that—an excuse—but he’s starting to feel as if this bathroom excursion was necessary in more ways than one.

The cold medicine from earlier is certainly starting to wear off, if the congestion settling in his sinuses is anything to go by. He’s tired, even though it isn’t especially late, and his throat is undoubtedly sorer than it had been before he got here. On top of everything with Erika, it feels like insult to injury. 

Erika. Where would he even begin with her? Now—knowing that she wants to be friends with him still—what can he do? Has anything she’s said tonight merited his forgiveness? Even if she hadn’t meant to cheat on him—even if she’d been planning to break up with him formally, even if she’d only made out with Brendon because she was drunk—does that make any of this permissible? She still lied to him. That night, when she’d gone to the party, she’d told him that she was just visiting a relative. The only reason why Yves had found her there with Brendon—the only reason why he’d shown up at the party at all—was because he’d been dropping something off for a friend.

She might not have chosen to cheat on him. But she’d still chosen to get drunk with someone she knew she had feelings for. Is that really any better?

And there’s this, too—part of Yves wants to forgive her. Part of him wants to move past everything, if only it means he’ll get to keep her as a friend. There was a point where she was everything to him, and maybe a friendship would be second best to everything if it meant he’d get to keep talking to her. That version of her that he remembers, walking with him through the 5am dark to crew practice, leaning into his shoulder.

Yves turns on the sink, lets the cold water wash over his hands for a few seconds before he cups his hands together to splash some water on his face. For reasons other than the cold water, his eyes sting. He shouldn’t have come here, he thinks. Seeing Erika again, after everything, feels like reopening a wound that had only started to close up.

Or maybe that isn’t right. Maybe he’s not over her at all.

From the other side of the door, he hears a sharp knock.

“I’ll - snf-! - be out in a sec,” he says. “I thidk Margot has adother bathroom if you need to go.” One that he hasn’t just sneezed in, notably.

“Do you need anything?”

It’s Vincent.

It occurs to Yves, all of a sudden, what an asshole he’s been. He’s the entire reason why Vincent is here in the first place, and here he is, locked in the bathroom, leaving Vincent alone at a party he wouldn’t enjoy to socialize with people he doesn’t know.

But what can he say? He’s far from presentable, right now—with the large, glossy bathroom mirror in front of him to confirm it—his face flushed, his hair a mess. There’s no way he can open the door, as it stands, and let Vincent see him like this.

“I could… hEHh… hEHh’iIIZSCHEEW! snf-! Ugh, I could use a dridk right ndow,” he says instead, which is more honest than he intends, except then he remembers he’s not supposed to be drinking. “Wait, fuck. I still have to drive.”

“I can do it,” Vincent says, “If you trust me with your car. I wasn’t planning on drinking.” 

“I do trust you with my car,” Yves says. 

“What do you want? Champagne? A beer?”

“Whatever you find that will get mbe idtoxicated the fastest.” It’s half a joke.

“So you can wake up tomorrow with a hangover to go with your cold?”

“Hodestly? I can’t think of a better start to the ndew year,” Yves says.

A pause. “If it’s what you want.” It’s an easier victory than he’d expected—he supposes he can’t complain. He listens as Vincent’s footsteps recede.

He shuts the water off. Runs a hand through his hair, fixes some of the strands back in place. Blows his nose again, for good measure. His face is a little flushed—probably a telltale sign that he has a fever—but if he drinks, who will notice?

Vincent is back a couple minutes later. He knocks with the same, curt knock as before, and this time, Yves opens the door.

He’s standing there, looking no less charming than before, holding a cocktail glass. There’s an orange slice on the edge, and an elegantly placed sprig of rosemary—Margot’s doing, probably.

“Vodka and orange juice,” he says, by way of explanation. “Margot said it’s called a screwdriver.”

“She’s really committed to the orange juice,” Yves says, and takes the glass from him. “Thadks, snf! I’m sorry for disappearing on you.”

Vincent looks like he’s about to say something more. Yves braces himself for the questioning, but instead, Vincent turns away. “It’s fine.”

“And sorry about Erika,” Yves says. He thinks he sounds a little less congested now that he’s blown his nose—at least, for the time being.  “It’s just—it’s been awhile since I’ve seen her. But that doesn’t mbean—i mean, I don’t wadt you to have to worry about all of this.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” “I just want you to edjoy the party,” Yves says. “Well, as much as you can, adyways. I can handle myself.”

“I never doubted that,” Vincent says.

“That’s why you’re the perfect pretend boyfriend.” Yves tips his drink back, takes a couple large, indulgent sips. He doesn’t catch Vincent’s expression as they take their seats again at the dinner table.

“You’re back,” Erika says. “I was starting to think you were planning on camping out in the bathroom for the rest of the night.”

“Yeah, it’s quite the complicated bathroom,” Yves says. “Thankfully Vincent was there to show me the way out.”

The rest of dinner is surprisingly uneventful—or maybe Yves is too tipsy to pick up on Erika’s passive aggression. Either way, he finds himself actually enjoying himself through the haze of the screwdriver and a few glasses of champagne. It helps that Erika hasn’t brought up the whole friend thing again, and it helps that Margot stops by a few times, whenever the conversation lulls, to change the subject to something utterly unrelated to his breakup. Yves isn’t sure how much of a role Vincent has to play in that. At some point—halfway through another sneezing fit—Vincent wordlessly gets him a stack of napkins, and Yves is not embarrassed enough to pretend he doesn’t need them at all.

After dinner and dessert (which Yves would usually help with, on the many occasions when he doesn’t have a cold, but which Margot does a perfectly impressive job with), everyone disperses again. Yves catches up with everyone he knows from college, introduces Vincent to them (“Don’t tell Vincent I said this,” he says, “But I think he’s way too smart to be on our team,” and Vincent laughs and modestly denies this), and wonders what he’ll tell them all when, inevitably, Vincent doesn’t show up to any of their future meetups. At some point in the future, Vincent will find someone, presumably, who he’ll spend every subsequent New Year’s with. Yves is a little too drunk to think about the slight pang in his stomach when he considers this.

It’s only when it’s nearing midnight that he finds himself out on Margot’s balcony with Vincent.

It’s a nice view of the city, with its rows and rows of glittering skyscrapers. Yves leans out on the railing. 

The alcohol has done its job of making him feel pleasantly warm indoors, but it’s too cold outside for it to have the same effect. He doesn’t realize he’s shivering until Vincent says, “Are you too cold?”

“No,” Yves says, crossing his arms in an attempt to keep himself from shivering. “It’s… ndot that… cold out—hh-! hHehh’IIZSCHh-EEW!” Ugh. Very convincing.“That was bad timing, snf-!, I swear.”

“Bad timing, I’m sure,” Vincent says, his tone soft. “We can go inside if you want.”

“No,” Yves says, rubbing his nose. “It’s nicer out here, snf-! Also, I’m sure there will be fireworks at mbidnight. Which is soon.”

“So you’re taking the best vantage point all for yourself,” Vincent says.

“Yes, I— hHh-hHEH-!” He thinks it might culminate in another sneeze, but the tickle in his nose dissipates, very frustratingly, at last possible moment. “I got here first,” Yves says, sniffling. “Finders, keepers.”

“In that case,” Vincent says. Then—in lieu of finishing that sentence—he unbuttons his blazer and drapes it over Yves’s shoulders. 

Yves stares at him, disbelieving. The blazer is still warm—indulgently, comfortably warm—from Vincent’s shoulders. “There’s no way you’re not cold wearing that,” he says, gesturing to Vincent’s button-down shirt. It’s long-sleeved—a small consolation—but with fabric that thin, there’s really no chance he’s dressed warmly enough for this weather.

It’s starting to snow again—lightly enough that the snow melts into water when it hits the ground.

Vincent shrugs. “I grew up here. I’m used to it.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” Yves says, pulling the jacket closer. “Thadks.”

Inside, almost everyone who hasn’t left has gathered in the living room. Someone—Mikhail, maybe—is telling a story to the crowd, to raucous laughter. Then, after a bit, Margot says something, lifting her glass of champagne, and everyone joins her in counting down. Ten. Nine.

“Erika’s watching,” Vincent says, after a beat. Eight. Yves turns and sees that he’s right—he spots her somewhere in the crowd, in her sleek blue dress. When she catches him looking, she waves. Seven. Six. “She’ll probably be expecting us to kiss.”

Yves looks away from her to look at Vincent. Vincent, who’s here just because Yves asked him to be, who looks unfairly attractive even in something as forgettable as a white button-down shirt, who Yves will probably never have another chance to spend a night with again. The question is out of his mouth before he can think twice about it.

“Can we?”

He almost bites his tongue after. What is he thinking? It’s a ludicrous request—something absolutely unfitting to ask from a coworker, especially when he has a cold—and he’s certain he would never have asked it if he were sober. He opens his mouth to apologize, to explain himself, but—

Two. One.

Vincent leans in, briefly, and kisses him.

Beyond them, fireworks shatter into the sky. There’s the sound of cheering in the living room. 

The kiss lasts only a moment before Yves is wrenching himself away, taking a couple hurried steps back before his head snaps forward with a sudden, spraying—

“Hhehh’IIDSCHiiEW!”

—which, despite his efforts, almost certainly mists Vincent’s collar. It’s enough of a warning for him to lift his hand to his face and twist away to cover the subsequent—

“hHEH… Hheh’yISSCHEew! Snf-! Heh… hheh-!! Hheh… HEHh’iiDDZSChiEw!”

He feels heat creep up into his cheeks.  “I’mb so sorry,” he says, and means it for everything—for the untimely sneeze, for the kiss, for inviting Vincent to the party in the first place. “That was… I’mb really sorry. Oh, god, I really hope you don’t catch this. I would feel awful if you caught this.” His head swims, and he finds himself grabbing the railing to steady himself, muffling a fit of harsh, grating coughs into his hand. Usually, it would be his sleeve, but given that the sleeve he has on now belongs to Vincent’s very nice blazer, his options are limited.

Yves leans his weight onto the railing, sniffling, and shuts his eyes against the dizziness. He might be drunker than he’d given himself credit for. 

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Vincent says. Yves doesn’t want to look at him, doesn’t want to see what he might be thinking. He really, really owes Vincent for all of this. “Are you tired?”

“Just a little drunk,” Yves answers. “We should probably head home soon.” 

“Okay,” Vincent says.

The apartment is indulgently warm when they step back inside. Yves hands Vincent back his jacket and lingers in the living room to say goodbye to Margot (he has the pleasure of watching her hug Vincent for the second time tonight) and to the handful of college friends that he recognizes. It’s a short walk to the car through the snow—just a few minutes, except he finds it to be more of a tedious walk than expected, and Vincent has to grab his arm a couple times to keep him from stumbling.

“Careful,” he says sternly, the first time.

Yves stares at him, tries to think about what sober Yves would say. He’s always been a little too honest when drunk.

“You are a godsend,” he says. “Thanks for coming todight. I kdow you hate parties.”

“I don’t hate parties. Are you always like this when you’re drunk?”

“Like what?”

Vincent laughs—a short, soft laugh which Yves wishes he could hear more of. “This is the fifth time you’ve thanked me.”

Is it really? “Ndo, I just am… hEH-!” Yves twists away from Vincent, just in time to let out a barely covered— 

“hehh’IZZSCHH-iIEW! Snf!” The sneeze jerks him forward, harsh—and loud—enough that he feels a twinge of pain in his throat. Luckily, Vincent won’t be here tomorrow to see him lose his voice. 

“Bless you,” Vincent says, reflexively.

“That’s definitely ndot the fifth time you’ve blessed me,” Yves says. “It’s more than that for sure. So I’mb allowed to thadk you more than once.”

“If you put it that way.”

Vincent drives him home. Yves directs the GPS to his address and tries to stay awake so he can talk to him, until Vincent says, “If you’re tired, you should sleep,” which Yves wants to protest. It seems rude to fall asleep in his own car when he’s supposed to be the one driving in the first place. But maybe Vincent is tired, too, from having had to socialize with strangers all night, and maybe silence would be preferable to him now. So Yves leans his head against the passenger seat window and shuts his eyes.

It feels like he’s only been asleep for a minute before Vincent taps him on the shoulder.

“We’re here,” he says, pulling the keys from the ignition.

“That was fast,” Yves says. He muffles a small cough into his sleeve. “Thadks again for driving me. I’mb sorry we stayed out so late.” He checks his watch—it’s close to 1am. It occurs to him that he has no idea if Vincent is a morning person, if this is considered late by his standards. If he’s tired, too.

“It’s no problem,” Vincent says, stifling a yawn into his hand. Well, that answers his question.

Yves unbuckles his seatbelt, opens the passenger door, and gets out. It’s brutally cold out, cold enough that he has to fight back a shiver. “At least wait inside as I call you an Uber?” “You don’t have to do that.”

But Yves is already pulling out his phone, scrolling through their messages for Vincent’s address. It’s the least he can do, after everything.

Vincent waits inside with him for a few minutes. It’s a bit of a wait for his ride—probably everyone’s trying to get back home from their New Year’s parties at this time—so Yves makes them both some hot chocolate (nothing fancy, given the time constraints—just hot cocoa mix with some cinnamon and steamed milk—but Yves says “You should come again some time, I promise I can actually cook when I have more than three minutes”) and sits with him in the living room. He finds himself almost disappointed when the cab finally arrives.

“Get home safe,” Yves says.

“Thanks,” Vincent says. “I will.”

“And Vincent?” Vincent turns.

There’s a hundred things Yves wants to say to him. He wants to say, you didn’t have to do this. He wants to say, I don’t know what I would’ve done without you. He wants to say, how can I make it up to you?

“Happy New Year,” he says, instead, and Vincent smiles.

[ Part 4 ]

[mushiewrites]

CONRGRATS!!!! 300 followers is so cool I’m so happy for you! :D

for the fics, what inspired rise & shine and what possessed you to write Round One and The short(s) Struggle

from this milestone post / rise & shine / round one / the short(s) struggle

I am excited about explaining all of these, they are all so special to me omg elliot thank u for sending them in <3

also loving that you asked what possessed me, bc honestly I have no idea :D but whatever it was, it needs to do it again right now

rise & shine was written purely out of spite and 1000000% towards summer bc she was being a little shit and I was feeling evil.

exhibit A:

once summer told me she thought george was the meanest, I went with sap with the lee bc I hc both of them with horribly sensitive thighs, so it was always gonna be between snf since the target spot I had in mind....was thighs (gee I wonder why???????)

after that I kind of blacked out and wrote it. It was done pretty quickly, like I've mentioned before I'm way more motivated to finish something when it's targeted at someone else! (: it's just more fun and it doesn't really feel like I'm pressured to finish it or anything bc I want to sooooo bad anyways! and like I did with my other fics targeted at summer (yes there are multiple! :D) I just included things I knew got to her, and bam, good reactions!

exhibit B & C:

so yeah, this is why rise & shine was made! there was no planning in advance, nothing leading up to writing the fic, it was simply bc summer was being a little shit and I was feeling evil enough to write a reaaaaaally mean fic at her <3

I do it purely for the "MUSHIE", which I have sooooo many screenshots saved of <3

- - - - - - - -

okay......round one. okay. look. this was also for lee!george week, and it was born bc I NEEDED to do an intense tk day. it's just my branding, I needed them to destroy poor lil georgie ):

it's a litttttttttle bit self indulgent Im not gonna lie. a lot of what was written was from possibly personal experience, and I really just tried to write a lot of what I thought would be super intense tks for george (I also added in lil digs at someone but I will not be naming who <3)

I wanted to explore things that I hadn't publicly posted yet, like oil and some specific tools. I actually had a lot more plans for this fic, a lot more spots and tools and techniques, but I was running out of time, and left it off so I could revisit it as a sequel (which I absolutely am, I already have some plans written out)

but uh....mostly this one was self indulgent. I can't even lie about it, it was definitely written for me (and a few other people) more than anything 🫠

that's all I'm saying about round one (: <333333

- - - - - - - -

short struggle!!!! my tiny sap in his tiny shorts!!!!! literally was inspired by the tiny shorts he was wearing when he streamed a clothing haul when he was in LA <3 my brain chemistry has never been the same since <3

like….look at him???????

I have been saying this for half of my fics but like….I really was just mindless when I wrote this? I saw sap thighs and immediately got the idea for dream and george to latch on and never ever EVERRRRRRRR let go <3

sap is so tiny and small and a baby panda, and normally I love when people are sweet to him, but I just needed him to get his shit absolutely ROCKED in this, I have no explanation really, just that my brain went insane and I made dnf do what I wanna do to him :3

this was cals reaction in the middle of me writing the fic btw:

“why me!?” is one of my favorite lil dialogues I’ve written for sap just bc I can hear it so clearly in his lil raspy voice through his lil raspy giggles with his lil nose scrunch <3

short(s) struggle was purely bc sap couldn’t help but show off his thighs on stream, and i couldn’t help but destroy them <3333333

[gg-selvish]

Gen q what it is with dnn and snf shippers always making George a pos in their fics? When I say gen q I mean it, I'm not being sarcastic. Why is it always George made in the wildly out of character asshole?

i mean i wouldnt say its wildly out of character. its like known that george doesnt say sorry or i love you even in dire situations where people get hurt and it's his fault so like. is it really that 'wild' that he would be insensitive or less empathetic off screen as well? sure we make it more toxic because it's fiction and makes the plot more interesting but it is definitely based in reality to a degree. george is a good guy and can be really soft and sweet but from the way we've seen him interact with sapnap especially (cuz ur talking about dnn and gn) he can also be a dick and thats just fun to write. sometimes its fun to write things that are toxic and heavy and it's just fanfiction for entertainment so it has no merit in the author's perspective of the actual cc, or what he actually is like as a person. i think multishippers are just more willing to explore the faults of ccs instead of making their fics totally vanilla with a happy ending. idk at least for me and the fic i read i like more weird and interesting stuff that goes into the negative aspects of people and the relationships they're involved in.

[neko-naruto]

Hihihihihi tell me about ur fics pls ::) (only if u want i just like hearing about them)

*deep breath* I am going to talk about so many fics

!!! DISCLAIMER !!!

Most of the fics i'm rambling about under this cut are my SNF works cause I like those ones the most, but there will be other ones. For the most part I'll be gushing because hey that's what I do best, but there will be world building elements added into the larger ones ramblings. All fics are linked, just click on the title and it'll redirect you to the fic in question, I hope the readmore actually works too.

Parlors and piercings

SNF tattoo AU, that's it, but wait! There's more, cause there will always be more and that is how we role in this household. For some reason my dumbass decided that Quackity, Karl, Wilbur, and for some reason Dream, all needed to be background drivers to this story which is most likely why I hit 7K. I only wanted to write a short little 1K bullshittery and be on my way, a little bit of crumbs for the SNF enjoyers, but uh, that didn't turn out how I wanted it too.

So I'm sitting there, staring at the 5K word mark and going, 'you know what this needs? a piercing scene' and then not waiting for an answer. I added it purely on a whim because Wilbur didn't have enough screen time and I wanted to make sure he got some form of banter with Quackity (who makes fun of him for getting a piercing). I wrote this like, four months ago so I don't entirely remember the thought process aside from the fact that I wanted one SNF tattoo scene to exist referencing a very specific post.

Also I never explicitly mentioned it in the fic but George works at a flower shop with Fundy, I think I was saving that for a part two. But it's been four months and I've yet to start a part two, so unless something happened George and Fundy working at a flower shop is VIP knowledge for anyone bold enough to click the read more. I do remember wanting Sapnap to give Dream the 'fuck you' bouquet with the help of Georges flower expertise-

Like your jacket

Not only is it the worlds first Kenikari fic, it is also the worlds first angsty Kenikari fic, and the first multichapter Kenikari fic. This one is a lot smaller, a lot simpler at that, basically I fucking hate the rolling rock sequence and took that out on Detah. He's my favorite he really is, and if you were around for my Danny Phantom era, you may or may not know that it changed me on an atomic level and I show I love characters by putting them through it.

I also saw Detah looking dead as fuck on the ground after the rolling stone puzzle and decided I should just, angst it up a little bit. Give him a broken ankle, it builds character, a bit of blood, heavy anxiety and minor gore never hurt. Don't worry though! He gets fixed up a little bit in chapter two :)

It's fungal not floral (yeah, specifically that chapter)

This fucking fic. I had so many WIPs going on when I wrote this, I had homework due when I wrote this, I had a family meeting the day after the night I wrote this. And guess what? I fucking dropped everything to write this, a moderately fucked up Hanahaki SNF fic where Dream is an unforgivable cunt cause thats how we do in this household. This shit pulled the E-brake on my return to Undertale brainrot, this shit pushed a rest button in my brain and threw me back into the SNF pool full force.

I have no clue how it did so, or why it decided to have an adverse effect on me, the author, but it did. It's been like, a month since I posted it, and I ended up deciding to write a part two for it as well, a part three waiting to be started. Since the release of it I've also hit 50K words of SNF cause it just, pushed me back into the deep end which really isn't that deep considering it's a moderately rarepair.

AND I BLAME ALL OF IT ON @sobredunia SHE CAUSED THIS. She dropped into my inbox and went 'hey Ace, what if you put mushrooms in someones lungs instead of flowers?' and then I did exactly that. So in this world George had mushrooms in his lungs (luminescent ones), has hollow bones, turns into a glowstick if he cracks his back, and he can purr also because of dunia.

Grounding

I was sad that they didn't animate the taser torture scene, or ever go in depth on the trauma that he would've left with upon being tasered half to death while tied up in an abandoned warehouse. And before you go wondering what fandom this is for, it's Yugioh, it's a fic about Yugioh, specifically the manga. I would heavily suggest giving the mangas a read actually, it's full of Yami giving out junior Saw Traps to anyone who hurts his friends and family.

More or less I threw Jounouchi into a brand new situation that goes over the past trauma of getting electrocuted half to death in a brand new form because sometimes a girl needs to write about her favorite dude getting tortured. Another prime example of how the phandom has left me forever changed- also they literally tied him up like this in one panel mere moments before the taser part.

Like, bro, chemically designed in a lab to be put through it and I'll do it if no one else will.

Just like you

Behold, the fluffiest fic I've ever written, not a whole lot is behind this one and all the props go to daydreamdnn's works for giving me a heady dose of inspiration. I just, the SNF brainrot man, it got me good, and then the notions of giving them a cat? Amazing, beautiful even, perfection in short fluffy oneshots with a sprinkling of suggestive themes underneath it all.

The only behind the scenes bit is that they probably fuck off screen, I don't know what else there is too it than that. I also like to imagine that they go back and get a dog too, said dog and cat mix like oil and water. Just a lot of fluffy potential is inside of this ficlet, a short sweet trail of crumbs for the SNF enjoyers because I know it can't just be me.

...

yeah, I'm too sore to talk about any of my other fics, cramps are a bitch, hope this satiated your desire to learn more though. maybe when my cramps go down I'll talk about them a little bit more in depth

[leafannarchive]

new year’s eve - run it back 😼

i’m copying scoops @scoops404 again because this was her idea originally!! i put this on my twitter already but i wanna have it on tumblr too SO here’s my 2022 fic rank and recap. i’m putting them under the cut because i simply wrote so much this year it was insane.

i loved all my fics this year, and thank you if you’ve read even one of my fics. it means the absolute world to me. i have so many things i still want to do so. here’s to 2023 and more insane dnf writing ���

19. i could easily lose my mind

part 8 of the pro soccer dnf series!! it was my first step back into the “present” after the olympics fic. it’s cute but someone has to be last place :)

18. everything i need i get from you

more pro soccer dnf (part 9) and it’s the wedding fic!! it’s cute too, i just don’t love weddings. i struggled with this one a bit tbh but i wanted to get the wedding done and out of the way. i like how it came out in the end though!!

17. love you for a long time

this one is the light on sequel!! i had so much fun writing it because light on is so personal to me. obviously i’ve been to the places i write about in it and it’s always fun to revisit those trips. the universe itself is also incredibly fun to revisit

16. when it is hopeless i start to notice

pro soccer dnf again but this time it’s the olympics one so part 5. this one hurt so bad, like i cried rereading it. she’s good, she could be better. hope to improve on the international rivalry in a future fic :)

15. the universe works in mysterious ways

this one’s cute!! it’s a little bit of a vent about my apartment but with a much happier ending. it was my first shot at grad student george with streamer dream which obviously i just revisited these dynamics later and wrote something better, but this one is still worth a shot!!

14. follow what i’m feeling

this was the second meetup fic i wrote of three this summer. this one was based on some tiktoks about the inherent romance in friendship!! i look back on this one so fondly. i went on a walk to clear my head after writing the ending and then got back home and completely rewrote it (shoutout scoops for the help with this one)

13. they don’t know how special you are

this one was good, the first deeper look i gave into the pro soccer universe characters!! i like this one a lot but i’m docking points because i used a lot of stuff from a fic i wrote for a different fandom. idea recycle and even some scenarios in the fic were recycled and changed a bit.

12. it’s nice to have a friend

more pro soccer in college. i wrote a few different fics exploring snf’s friendship this year and this was one of them!! i think of them all, this was my least favorite which is why i put it here :)

11. you are in love

third meetup fic i wrote just before the actual meetup!! i love this one and i got to try out a nonlinear timeline. also i wrote about dream wearing a chain before we knew he does for sure. one of my highlights this year

10. that’s because i wanna be your favorite boy

mostly wrote this at the airport after missing a flight which turned into a whole mess (i’m sure some of u guys remember i got accused of plagiarism for this one 👺) BUT i think it’s a cute little college au that slays. i like the way i wrote dream coming out and how his friends and george react specifically :)

9. complete mess

OKAY this is a deviation. this is my snf fic and i actually love this premise. it’s cute, it’s fun, based on the morning lobbies and their little friend group. it was for a little challenge with some friends :)

8. one day i know that you will be there

my twist on how the dream team blew up but a long fic!! my baby girl going into 2022. disclaimer, i started this fic before george took to the internet and started talking about how much he hates editing 👍 it’s still fun though with lots of besties qnf and callahan.

7. he’s falling, i offer him my hand

my first meetup fic!! it recently hit 1k kudos so thank you all sm 🫶 man this one… i put a lot of my own loneliness into it, scenes from my experience living alone in 2022 and came up with something i love. this one has some nswf btw so. look out for that

6. for a while you were all mine

latest fic 😼 and this was my second attempt at grad student george streamer dream and i really really like this one!! good show of how i’ve improved this year i think

5. you and i

the pro soccer dnf origin story. i adored this fic, it was for the one year anniversary, it shows so much george character development. they are so important to me. this is my favorite pro soccer part of all time (part 7)

4. peace

pro hockey dnf. i saw the clip of george saying he played hockey and this was born. i stuck them on my favorite team and included some of my favorite hockey ship’s insane moments. perfect fic. showstopper. it’s also had art made for it twice which is EPIC ‼️

3. delicate

rivals (sort of one sided?) to lovers >:) basketball george and football dream at florida state. it is everything to me. the george, foolish, sapnap friendship dynamics were so fun to write. and background punznap!!!

2. tear in my heart

kidfic!! i love liam and i love what i did incorporating a/b/o as part of a challenge. i loved the time travel aspect. it was really really hard to pick between the last two. it’s a very close second :)

1. light on

and finally, dream’s birthday fic!! this one is so personal. it’s me and my life on display. it’s a love letter to my city. it’s coming to terms with growing up and changing. i love their relationship and i put so so much of myself into it plus getting to read all the comments of people relating too. i don’t know it just made me feel so nice.

[mageofspacemultiverse]

The Comedian - The Superego

“And then, if I were to go, ‘it’s just another doomsday device!’, would that be crossing the line—?”

He was milling. Back and forth, shuffling his shoes against the underfoot shag…again. Drifting.

“Adobo…?” A crimson red crescent bounced impertinently against an LED screen. “Mooshu…?” They would be eating dinner in her office tonight, it had been decided, but getting there was half the battle.

Trajes’ bottom lip pursed, itching at a spot behind his ear where the elastic of his performance mask burrowed into the skin. His hair remained stoic in its over-prepared masse despite the motion. “Why do they call it that anyways—? Mooshu…if I wanted to ridicule moo-beasts I wouldn’t need to name a dish after them—! Just get me a forklift, a plunger, and two trolls with too much free time on their hands, ahh—?”

She pursed her lips gently, chuckling under her breath. The young man’s small grin emerged further. “I’m not one to know that. It’s rated not too poorly, and less venomous than some other foods you’ve tried eating before.”

“Good point…— Hmm, oh, what about wontons—? Have you ever sung a wonton a swan song—?”

“Never. Perhaps on my next park visit.”

The boy unfolded himself onto the lavender suave lounge just next to him, kicking his feet as she silently made the decisions for him, as always. A hand went to the lavender agenda set on the wooden side table beside her, unclasping a black string from around the button that held it together.

“How did it fare, though?” Her face-paint contorted slightly before she put her head down, checking the notes of their most recent appointment. “We agreed you would try to write some parody of a memory that was quite fond to you.”

“Oh, yaaas, well, y’see—! I brought a few friends to it, including one of my relatives that you directed me to—!” Hands went to knees, sandpapering the bony bumps. Trajes tended to do this when he got excited, but she could already tell he was deflecting. “I might’ve made some friends—! A bit of a dull night for the rest of the audience though—. There was a blood-pusher stoppage in the middle of my monologue on the Battle of the Gnashing Grasses—. Total mood killer, but I pushed through—!” An expectant blink and a slow pause was enough for him to hum and reconsider for another moment, before he added once again: “Well, it was, well, I had a bit involving the first time I discovered hair glitter—?”

She’d written most in short-hand, ineligible to those who didn’t know the style. Her bum shoulder made the scrawl especially peculiar. “And, how did Ashter react? You’ve said before you were interested in connecting with him on a deeper level.”

“Well, he was…confused, and uncomfortable, but he came—!” His tone bounced with uncertain optimism.

“Do you think based on his reaction he wants to pursue your connection as a mutual friendship?”

“Aaheh, I don’t really know—.” Trajes ran a hand bashfully through his hair apologetically, staring towards her with a small smile. “He doesn’t outright hate me—? He has a lot of friends and doesn’t need me, but it’s like you said: ‘You have to control your impulses, young man, or you’re going to get into huge trouble—!’ Sorry, I might be paraphrasing—.”

Trajes Faurux was impulsive; she’d wrote an article in the Alternian Alternative Medical Stratagem seven solar cycles ago to that end. Giving him patience had taken a few sweeps of grueling focus. A fun pastime in her retirement, but seeing progress, seeing the pupa break, was a reward in and of itself.

“Good, good. Keep viewing the pros instead of focusing on the cons. The only way you can have the confidence to build a relationship is if you have confidence in your own abilities.” Her high heel of one leg pumped open air, and her pen waved betwixt two fingers.

“You’ve…gosh, you’ve helped me so much Superego, y’know—? Like…—” Trajes laughed with another sweep through his hair, hugging around himself. “I know you’ve sacrificed…so…so much for me, and… snf—“ He wiped away the forming tears with the edge of his sleeve. “—I have…I’m making friends, and having success, and…snf…and one day, I really am going to pay you back, I promise—!”

She sat back and looked to him again, lips soft and forlorn, but fully formal. “My role in your life, Trajes, is as an anchor, not a trader. While your therapy has the chance to be helpful for patients similar to you in the future, do not split your attention with that worry. I’m already quite well off. Mead?”

Trajes’ mouth squished together, puckering, before he nodded queerly. Something was on his mind, but as she poured him a paper mug of the liquor, he stayed silent about it. She’d known him long enough to get a sense of his body language too: shoulders tight, legs tensed.

“And yes, that includes what we mentioned before…I’m not your lusus.”

“You’d ought to be, though.— You might as well be—.”

“I ought to decide what I ought to be, dear. If I were 30 sweeps younger-“

“I’m sure there’re other coddling laughsassins around, right…—?”

“Sure, for the right price.” The Superego’s eyelids narrowed and she smirked. “But I did not insist for your datasets in the drone inventory to be deactivated out of a need to coddle you. I recognized it was necessary, therapeutically. I have made you self-reliant for a reason.”

He nodded absently, taking a small sip of his mead politely, the reminder of how much effort he was sitting on his think-pan. It was honey and metal on his tongue. “I’ve got two more gigs lined up—. Zaldes would’ve liked one of the locations, actually—.”

“Hmm? Is it near his grave-site?”

“…yeah—. Umm…yeah, there’s a rebellion re-enactment going on in the woods where—.” He didn’t need to fill in the rest, she knew, and as Trajes trailed off she scribbled more. “………might visit him before—. Figure it’ll settle my nerves —! What do you think—?”

The Superego shook her head. “That symbolism is not mine to interpret. What do YOU think?”

“I think…he’d appreciate it- oh!”

Ugh. The doorbell. Just when they were possibly getting somewhere again.

“Oh, Supergo, I think our stuff is here—! It was wontons and mooshu, right—?”

“And lobster soup for myself. Wait there Trajes, I’ll take care of this.” She stood up, all eight foot tall, leaning her weight onto the cane she grabbed from behind the chair. In younger years she would’ve ruffled Trajes’ hair on her way, but weaning him from the small affections was a strategy to make him independent. As she strode to the door though, the last sentence she’d written in dark orchid was the same as it had been before.

Still suppressing.

[miamoo27]

Too lazy to get up to get my note book so I am writing on here. My chest hurts so bad from smdoking three cigs today. I fucked nick yesterday and it was the best sex I had in a while I hate that I’m in love with him my brain has been filled with him today and I want to get it out I can’t wait for work tomorrow so I don’t have to think about it. all I want is him and he does not want snf sure As he’ll do not think he even loves me. He says he loves me and cares but there is barely any action. He never texts me never talks to me only if it’s to see him and have sex. I thought he said he could get any woman he wanted. Why the fuck he want me. I love fucking gim but I also LOVE him. And he only likes fucking me. “Not romantically comparable” the duck that mean. He’s lowkey right but STILL I have fun with him I love him but I also feel jealous and possessive with him which is not a good trait. I’m trying hard not to judge my thoughts but they weigh so heavy on my chest. Anyway I’m on a diet. If nick finds another girl I’d fucking lose it like ho crazy and that’s why I’m afraid of knowing him bc I know what he’s capable of and he’s capable of causing me a lot of pain bc I’ve seen him do it with his own eyes. He’s done it to me what makes me think he won’t do it again. I don’t trust him not one fucking bit. And what’s so fuckinf wrong with me that I am in love with a man I don’t trust. I know Intellectually it won’t work and it breaks my heart. God I wish he fuckinf loved me isn’t that pathetic? I wish he wanted to see me and told me how beautiful I am. Because I don’t feel beautiful unless he’s saying it to me. I miss him a lot more than anything and I wish that we could fucking be together even tho I don’t trust him one fucking bit if he just showed me his fucking heart and didn’t run away. Why am I still here at countless times. He doesn’t care he won’t. And I should go to sleep or try to be I can’t stay up thinking about him I’ve been thinking about him all fucking day I wish it would leave my head. I smoke way too much weed. Not a normal amount and my heart hurts bc I’m heart broken and anxious of my future. Things seem so blurry without him like smoke in a mirror. I wake up drink coffee and think of him I spending countless hours trying to distract myself from the reality of my life that got upside down cake for fun. I

And I talk to people like I’m not sad. I’m so sad. I lost someone I really cared about who made me happy for the most part. How the fuck could I be happy and he’s a jerk he doesn’t even deserve me to think all these great things about him he said it himself he’s happier alone.

[cannibalisticcorpse]

didnt get tagged but im high and realllllly wanted to do this

How many works do you have on AO3?

63

What’s your total AO3 word count?

214,757

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Dream Team/dsmp, Achievement Hunter/fahc, Cow Chop/fake chop, Red vs Blue, RWBY, Wolf 359, (and these are all deleted/orphaned now) voltron, supernatural

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

i promise the titles do not reflect me as a person

1. The Dick Pic Fic - 1884 kudos

2. the text fic - 1136 kudos

3. The Kitten Fic - 589 kudos

4. The Cup Fic - 516 kudos

5. The Piss Fic - 406 kudos

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

i try to, but sometimes i get like.... the same comment so many times that i cant really say anything more on it yk. but i usually try to say thank you at least T-T

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Cassiopeia and Cephus - GeorgeNotFound/DreamWasTaken, T, 1,187 words, among us AU, additional warnings in note

summary: Dream leans in and whispers, “George you’re supposed to be Cetus the sea monster, and I’m Andromeda, cast in stone.”

Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I wrote fake ah crew/john wick where trevor was just... john wick.... that's it tho. i think it'd be fun to write a dsmp fic where every british person just talked like gavin but i dont think that's a crossover technically...

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOO...... i had a member of a youtuber group i have a tattoo on my shoulder of read one of my fics, a gorey smut fic, out loud, live, to over 1k people and then he read my twitter @ at the end of it. (and this was just 1 instance)

:biteslip: so yeah i guess you could say i've received hundereds of death threats and other nasty shit

i will say most of it is deserved to be fair

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

uh.......

yes. i have a kink request fic going so that's like..... everything? idk i usually write to vent and that means i write violent stuff sometimes and that gets turned into smut

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of, but i have inspired a lot of fic titles and plots. i had a 13 yr old accuse me of stealing their fic once?? idk i just blocked them

Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope

What’s your all time favorite ship?

ummmmm i dont know actually. maybe dnn?? snf? idk

Whats a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

T-T birds, stars and sunshine, the soulmate zombie apoc au

features childhood best friends to loveres bbh/skeppy, meet cute love at first sight karlnapity, and meet cute enemies to lovers dnf

it's such a good au but im so shit at world building for it

What are your writing strengths?

i genuinely don't know, the only common compliment on my writing i can think of is writing characters.... in character.. and dialogue? idk im a good ideas guy kinda

What are your writing weaknesses?

also genuinely dont know but im gonna say describing smells, feel free to tell me if any of u have read any of my shit

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

a few words are nice and cool, but just make it natural and don't over-do it? like if you're fluent in the language or have an editor who is then like pop off and write multi lingual characters, if it's like a whole conversation i beg u to put a translation after it. i only speak eng

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

supernatural

What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

Concept of Joy :(((( i've been writing it with my partner for over a year and i love it sm...

if u see this and you write, please do this too and tag me at the top so i see it for sure :]]]

[blu-archer]

Warmth

Hi... So, It’s 00:44. I should be editing photo’s for the day a head but I did this instead. I really shouldn’t have but... it happened... (If there’s grammatical errors... this is why.. forgive me.)

Because procrastination has just kind of merged itself as a part of my very soul and essence as a human being at this point. 

This is just a short thing to be honest, and its technically a ‘sick/snz’ thing, but really it felt really short and comes across as more as a comfort, small filler type thing... but it was fun to write sooooo anyway..

enjoy I guess

Caretaker: ???Jimin/Jin?? I don’t really know 

Sickie: Yoongi

word count: 2568.

.

.

“Huh’ishh… snf… Huh’ihishew… huh’igxnsh!”

“You sneeze one more time and I’m sending you home.” Jin said warningly from his seat at the front desk.

Yoongi rolled his eyes, merely sniffling until he could get the chance to blow his nose. He didn’t remember the stores shelves being this dusty, but perhaps Namjoon just hadn’t had time to clean up while Yoongi had been away. He’ll have to do a deep clean once his magic has rested enough to manage it.

“I’m serious Yoon.”

“Jin. You don’t work here.” Yoongi replied dryly, not sparing the elder a glance. “and I own this business. You can’t send me home for sneezing.”

“You own half this business.” Jin corrected, clicking away at the latch on his pen as he stared through the gaps in the shelves at where Yoongi rubbed at his nose before putting up more jarred charms. “and I am married to the owner of the other half, which means I am also the owner of the other half.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“It does. You wouldn’t know because you haven’t married Jimin yet. What’s mine is Joon’s and what’s Joon’s is mine.” Jin grinned teasingly.

Yoongi knew that he was mostly joking, just twisting things to get his way, but it was still somewhat relevant in some areas. Namjin was a typical ‘we’ couple the second after Jin had gotten Namjoon to love him more than his plants, which honestly hadn’t been that difficult.  

“Does that mean that Namjoon can go treat kids at the school, like you. You’re the nurse right.. does that mean Namjoon has the same qualifications?” Yoongi asked, his words laced with building congestion.

“Don’t make jokes like that. Joon would never be able to manage working with children, no matter how much he loves them.” Jin shook his head. “Poor baby would be so terrified of hurting them or something, probably wouldn’t be able to put up with half the rascals I have to deal with. Teenagers are the worst, and when it comes to creating excuses to get out of class... don’t get me started.”

 Yoongi joined him by the desk, having finished most of the restocking of the shelves. It was technically supposed to be Jin’s day off from work – which usually meant that Namjoon would call in for the day off as well, but they had had a last minute call pleading for someone to come charm and heal sections of a park that had been set a light a few days prior, and well… Namjoon wasn’t going to decline that. He had even taken Taehyung with him. Hopefully nothing gets set on fire again.

But that meant that Jin had welcomed himself to lurking around the store, “helping” Yoongi with the daily routine and customers. Helping had turned into pestering very quickly.

“This is proof that it’s not true then.” Yoongi shrugged, reaching for a serviette that had come with the lunch Jin had ordered in to blow his nose.

He pointedly chose to ignore the exasperated look that flashed across Seokjin’s face.

“How’s Jimin?” Jin’s tone wasn’t as curious as the question posed. “Still sick?”

Yoongi refused to meet the witches gaze as he cleared his throat and reached for his iced coffee. It was more like watered down coffee now, but he required any form of caffeine that he could get.

“He’s still a little sick, but he’s going back to work tomorrow.” Yoongi pursed his lips as he thought back to when Jimin had told him the day before.

The hybrid had put a real fight when Yoongi had suggested to take another few days to rest. One would have thought he had told Jimin to quit or something. He understood his boyfriends need and passion to do his job, but from what Hoseok had mentioned to him, it was precisely the fact that Jimin worked too hard that got him into the mess he had been in any way. He just wanted to make sure that his boyfriend was taking enough time to recuperate.

“You don’t think that maybe… he shared?”

“What?”

“Yoongi..” Jin sighed. “Your nose is red. You’ve been coughing and sniffling all morning. You also haven’t taken off Jimin’s hoodie – which you usually do before opening because you don’t like mixing potions and other peoples’ scents over his, and don’t even try to tell me that your voice hasn’t been cracking since you entered that door.”

Yoongi looked away, taking another sip of his drink. “Could be allergies. ‘s dusty…”

Jin didn’t even have to say anything. His deadpan expression and tightly drawn lips told Yoongi enough about what the elder thought of that suggestion.

Maybe he was getting sick. After all, he and Jimin hadn’t exactly worked hard to prevent any contagion – especially after Yoongi had convinced the younger to let him be more helpful in all matters of care. It would actually make a lot of sense, but he couldn’t bring himself to want to acknowledge it. Jimin would feel so bad if he knew that he’d gotten the warlock sick, especially if it happened right before he had agreed to return from sick leave.

“I can’t go home. Jimin will feel guilty.”

“That is stupid reasoning.” Jin pulled a disapproving face. He looked at his friend, then shook his head. “I’m being serious Yoongi. You should rest now before it gets worst. We can close the shop for the day, Namjoon can continue tomorrow like he has been and Jimin would feel better knowing that you didn’t try hide this from him. You know that he will see you not telling him as some sort of annoying guilt thing. Don’t make a small thing big. He’ll probably be so happy to do whatever you young couples do now days again.”

Yoongi grimaced but didn’t waste the energy on commenting on Jin’s overly wistful words. Rather he put his mind to the customer that had just warily entered the store. He wasn’t going home. He had made up his mind and nothing Jin could say would change it.

**

“Kit’en?” Yoongi snuffled wetly.

Groaning and clearing his throat as he locked the front door behind him. He was about to call again when a deep, congested sneeze ripped through his throat – much louder and harsher than he liked. He really shouldn’t have stayed the full working day. He should have accepted Namjoon’s offer to have him just continue working the store for today and onwards, but if Yoongi was anything – it was stubborn. Of course he regretted it now though.

He walked into the kitchen and swallowed some of the medicine Jimin had been taking before he went to find the hybrid, who had remained silent. It was a bit odd that he hadn’t replied when Yoongi called, but it wasn’t rare enough for him to be overly concerned. Just curious…

It was when he couldn’t find Jimin in any of the rooms that his worry began to rise.

He called out again as he quickly paced through their cottage, being met by nothing but silence. He even tried to call but following the muffled ringing of Jimin’s phone lead him to their rumpled, vacant bed. In a final moment of panic, he called forth his magic, letting the icy chill of it flood throughout his body until a blast of wind shot off of him with staggering force. Usually he wouldn’t use his magic so raw, much rather preferring to have a physical object to make the effects easier to deal with, a skill that had been adapted centuries before from witches to fit a warlocks needs without the risk of magic drainage, but he didn’t stop for a moment to think. The magic had left him so abruptly that he had to lay a steadying hand on the wall while he breathed icy white breaths for the brief moment until the surged wave returned to him with just as much impact as it had left him with, causing him to break out coughing for air while the room tilted and swayed beneath his feet before returning to its previous temperature and stability.

Jimin was outside… in Yoongi’s studio?

That couldn’t be right. Jimin didn’t really go to the studio unless Yoongi was there. In fact, he was sure Jimin had told him that he didn’t like the studio space at all – something about there being too many scents.

Why would he be there now?

 He took a second to catch his breath before he went on his search. His nose had just started to run, and no amount of sniffling was going to help him. His head pounded against the cold, but he ignored it as best as he could.

None of it mattered.

What mattered was that it was cold. His studio specifically was always cold to a degree, and Jimin was uncharacteristically in there.

 “Love?” Yoongi called as loud as he could as soon as he passed the entrance, his voice cracking over the single word.

“ ‘oongi?”

Yoongi came to an abrupt halt just outside of the tiny, makeshift library that he stored all of his spell books in to see the familiar form of his boyfriend curled up on the oval windowsill with a blanket and pillow tucked around him as the dying sunlight painted his skin.

His hair was a mess and he swiped at his mouth and eyes languidly as a yawn broke widely across his face.

“Hey.” Jimin greeted with a warm lazy smile. “Good day?”

“It could have been better.” Yoongi answered honestly, moving into the small space so that he could wrap his arms around Jimin. The hybrid jumped at the icy feel of his skin. “I thought you didn’t like my studio.”

“It grew on me. Was the only thing that strongly smelt like you for a while, so it became more comfortable for me…Why are you so cold, what happened?”

Yoongi shrugged, his cheeks warming has he realised his actions may have been a bit impatient. There were other spells that he could have used, weaker ones that relied on words and physical additives rather than actual core magic, which would have left him with more energy and just overall less affected. He’d been unnecessarily rash.

He sunk his face into the hybrids chest, somewhat admitting defeat while forcing the younger to be pushed up tightly against the window as he was embraced. He felt fingers run through his hair and an ill-timed cough shook his entire frame. Jimin froze and Yoongi caved with two soft words. “I’m … sick.”

“Oh, baby…”

He felt Jimin card his fingers through his hair again, harder this time, letting his nails scrape lightly against the Warlock’s sculp as he held him close. Yoongi took as deep a breath as he dared. He couldn’t smell the usual spicy aroma that hung around the younger, but he melted into the bundle of warmth that was Jimin, succumbing rather easily to the uncomfortably angled yet intimate embrace.

“I’m so sorry I got you sick… we should have been more careful.”

“I’m fine.” Yoongi said, his voice muffled before he pushed away from Jimin so that he wasn’t bent in an awkward standing/leaning position any longer. “I was more worried about you, but you look better.”

“I feel better, mostly. There are still moments when I feel bad, but it’s a big.. improvement…” Jimin yawned, pulling his blanket up to smother it, then chuckled as Yoongi broke into a mirroring action, sniffling and resting lazily against his bookshelf afterwards.  “We should probably head inside now. Get something in you before we go to bed.”

Jimin gradually got to his feet, stumbling a bit as he stretched before opening his blanket to properly engulf Yoongi in its warmth with him. Jimin could feel a bundle of heaviness, completely unrelated to his cold, settle in his chest as he listened to Yoongi sniffle thickly on their way back into the house – making a quick dash when they had to cross yard with the cooling breeze. The warlock had a lot to catch up on in terms of his work and this was quite obviously going to set him back a bit further.

Not that he seemed to mind.

Jimin seemed to be more stressed than his boyfriend about the matter. To compensate for resulting in getting Yoongi sick he had tried to collect a bunch of blankets and soft materials that he had scattered around the house during the day, working to make a more comfortable setting for Yoongi in their room once he had gotten the warlock to lie down there. He had successfully gathered water and at least three of the fluffiest blankets they owned before Yoongi had him trapped beneath him against the mattress.

The warlock had distracted him from his coddling after sneezing openly to the side with enough force that Jimin had reached out to steady his seated figure with concern, only to be tugged onto the bed and rolled on top of with the accompaniment of all of the blankets he’d piled on the elder moments before. He had wanted to complain, that he needed to make food for them or to get them the medicine, even if Yoongi had mentioned that he’d already taken something – or at the very least more tissues, because they’d definitely be needed those. Yet Yoongi had merely rested his cheek against Jimin’s shoulder, sniffling into the base of the hybrids neck while he wrapped his arms tightly around the dancers frame.

“Yoon… you need food…”

“ ‘need you.” Yoongi whispered lowly, yawning into Jimin’s chest. “I missed you today… just… just stay. Please.”

Jimin snuggled down, embracing the warlock as entirely as he could. Their limbs becoming a mesh between the blankets. If this was the comfort that his boyfriend needed, then who was he to protest?

Even as Yoongi drifted off to sleep, the ice that had filled his veins from earlier thawed with the warmth that bled through him by the mere presence of the Calico cat. The dying sunlight still blared down on them, but neither of them could bring themselves to care. If anything, it helped in making the pair sleepier. Jimin rubbed his nose through Yoongi hair and down over his cheek, pressing soft lips to the elders temple, then his cheek, then nose.

Yoongi squirmed and let out an amused groan, pushing Jimin away before pulling him close once more. He’d never get used to the effect that Jimin had on him. How a simple gesture made him feel as if he could wield all the magic in the world. He’d tried to explain the empowering feeling before, but he had never been able to put it into words.

“I’m sorry.” Jimin whispered, pressing a final kiss to Yoongi’s head. Although his tone had dipped into the same seriousness from before. Then in an even softer voice, he added. “Love you, Yoongi… ”

Yoongi was already half asleep, his body giving in after the events of his day, but the tender words pushed him further. He slipped into a dark content sleep, filled with that familiar warmth and spicy scent that he had grown to depend on.

He’d let out a soft sigh, barely catching Jimin’s final words of ‘rest well’ before he was completely submerged into his dreams.

[suddencolds]

even the tiniest drabble with kaeya and albedo where one of them has a cold would make me super happy. i don't even care which one is sick, really, but if you want something more specific i feel like albedo being the sick one could be cute? and albedo has a canon liking for dessert/sweet things so maybe kaeya brings him some hot chocolate????

Hi anon!! First, the mention of sweets is so cute?? I live for Kaeya knowing that and specifically bringing Albedo hot chocolate 😭 (Also to the one other anon who asked for Albedo sjfhajfsh), I’ve always wanted to try my hand at writing Kaebedo, so I hope you enjoy! <3

—

Albedo is in a hurry.

“Good morning,” he says, when Kaeya runs into him just outside Jean’s office. “Forgive me. I can’t stay to talk.”

“Good morning to you too,” Kaeya says. “Busier than usual?”

Up close, Albedo looks slightly off—he’s paler than usual, save for a flush high in his cheeks. Closer inspection reveals that he’s shivering, too, if only slightly.

“Much to get done,” Albedo says back. “I have another shipment I need to attend to.” Before Kaeya can find a chance to respond, he’s already turning, heading for the exit.

Kaeya sighs. “Albedo.”

Albedo turns on his heels, sniffing softly. “What?”

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Kaeya asks, as nonchalantly as he can. Albedo looks surprised for a moment, as if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing. Then he nods.

“I am fine, I promise. I think I’ve...” he trails off, his gaze going distant and indistinct, and ducks into his shoulder. “...hiih’TSCHh!... caught a cold, snf.” Albedo clears his throat; Kaeya almost misses the grimace that follows, the discomfort that catches in his eyeline for a split second, there and then gone. “I should be back to normal in three to five days. Until then, I suggest you keep your distance.”

“Should you be working if you’re ill?” Kaeya asks, skeptical. “If you’re just running deliveries, I can help you with that.”

“It’s only a cold. No fever, and no symptoms that would warrant any additional concern…” Albedo rubs his nose, sniffling into a raised fist. His breath catches again, sharply, without a release. He sighs.  “...I’m sorry. I should really go. I would have liked to stay to chat..”

Then he’s slipping out the door to the Knights’ headquarters, and Kaeya—who still has a day of work ahead of him—doesn’t follow. Still, it bothers him as he goes out with the Knights. It’s been a winter colder than most, and it can’t be much better on Dragonspine, which is cold enough already without taking into consideration the variations of the seasons.

Albedo is honest when it comes to things like this. Kaeya knows that if he says it’s really nothing, he will be fine.

But he’s well-enough acquainted with illnesses to know how simple colds can still be fairly miserable. Albedo had seemed well enough, but appearances can be deceptive, and a cold is a cold. The weather in Dragonspine can’t possibly be conducive to his recovery; Kaeya can’t imagine the stress from running errands is helping, either.

—

Days like this aren’t frequent, but they’re tiring. Albedo gets caught in a frenetic back-and-forth between the camp at the base of Dragonspine, his own laboratory campsite up in the mountains, and the Knights of Favonius Headquarters in Mondstadt, transporting materials from outpost to outpost, double-checking the packaging, informing Sucrose and Timaeus about how the more fragile—or perishable—items should be handled.

By the time he’s back at his campsite, the exhaustion is starting to catch up with him. There are torches, set up around the periphery of the campsite, and usually they do a fair job of keeping the campsite area warm. Today—maybe owing to the fact that it’s particularly windy, or maybe only because it’s a colder winter than usual—he finds that it’s not exactly the most comfortable place to work.

Albedo takes a seat on one of the crates. He’s certainly well enough to be here—the cold he’s caught is an annoyance, but he’s certainly worked through worse. His throat hurts when he swallows, and every few minutes he has to pause to sniffle, wipe his nose briefly into the handkerchief Lisa had insisted that he take, crane his head over his shoulder to cough in an effort to avoid contamination of the materials he’s been using in his alchemy.

It’s disruptive, in the most inconvenient of ways, and he’s not getting any better out here, but he has so many new orders to sort through. He has a new shipment of Fontaine’s specialties to investigate. Rest can wait.

It’s not long before he’s raising the handkerchief to his face—he suspects it will stop being useful soon, for how much he’s used it—in ticklish, agonizing anticipation.

“Hiih... hiIH’izZZSch!!”

He winces, sniffling. The sneeze is just wrenching enough to send pain lancing through his throat.

“HiiiH’GZSChh!” Now his nose is running too, which is even worse. Still, he can’t bear to open his eyes; the anticipation is still there, persistent. “Hheh… heEHh… hehh’NGKT’shh! snf, snf...” He thinks the smoke might be getting to him. Perhaps it would do to try to sneeze this cold out—to expel all of the pathogens first, before his cold has the chance to worsen. Judging by how things are looking, it might happen even if he doesn’t do anything to encourage it.

“heh… hehH’iiSSSCh! HEHH’GKTschh!”

“Woah, bless you,” says a familiar voice.

Albedo’s eyes snap open. “Kaeya…?” He winces, still sniffling, and lowers the handkerchief from his face. Something must be wrong, he thinks—it must be urgent, too, if Jean had thought to send Kaeya up here on such a short notice. “Don’t tell me I mixed up the delivery shipments, snf, rest assured, I’ll… h-have it sorted as soon as I… hiih… can... hiih’GZZSchh!”

“Bless you again,” Kaeya says, sounding unbothered. “Relax, nothing’s wrong. Just thought I’d check up on you.”

It’s a puzzling response, to say the least. Albedo frowns. “Did you need something?”

“No, but I brought hot chocolate,” Kaeya says. When Albedo looks up, he sees that Kaeya is holding two mugs, one in each hand—both of which are miraculously still steaming. He holds one out in Albedo’s direction. “Sucrose tells me you have a taste for sweets.”

“I… am indeed fond of them,” Albedo says, taking the drink from him.

Kaeya brightens visibly. “This is an old recipe. You’ll have to tell me if it’s any good.”

Albedo takes a sip. The taste of it is slightly dulled under his worsening congestion, but it’s warm, fragrant and light, just sweet enough to not be overwhelming. “It’s exceptional,” he says earnestly, curling both hands around the mug to relish its warmth. “I would appoint you Captain of Drinks, if I could.”

Kaeya laughs. “You flatter me. I’m glad it was to your taste~ So,” he starts, smiling in that familiar, unreadable way, “is there anything I can help with?”

“Not off the top of my head... hiiH’DSCHhH!” Unprepared, uncovered—Albedo looks away, suspecting that his face must be red. “...Apologies. I’ve done this...”—he gestures vaguely to the workspace in front of him—“...many times before. I assure you, I can handle it. Did Jean send you?”

“Jean? No, I sent myself. I’m off work for today, and you said there was lots to get done, and you’re not feeling well, so...” Kaeya says all of this simply, as if his presence here is really only natural. As if he’s made the trip here—in the freezing cold, unpressured by the Acting Grandmaster, unaccompanied—just to stand here now, smiling, as if none of that is a big deal. He says, “Let me help?”

Albedo gapes at him.

“I would like to help,” Kaeya adds, sensing Albedo’s hesitation. He takes a seat on one of the crates opposite to Albedo—too close, really, to guarantee that he won’t contract this, which Albedo wants to comment on too. “That is, if you’d let me. I have no doubt you’d be able to handle this by yourself, but I can’t imagine it would be much fun. I’m better at alchemy than you might expect.”

“How chivalrous…” Albedo starts. He turns away to cough softly into his shoulder. “Captain Kaeya, you always manage to exceed my expectations.” It’s illogical, he thinks. There should be no reason why Kaeya’s presence would affect his illness in the least. And yet...

Kaeya smirks. “Since you are so intent on working hard, I figured I would lend a hand. So, where should we start?”

...he definitely feels better already.

[part 2]

[racingtoaredlight]

RTARL’s 2020 NFL Season Week 17 Extravapalooza

Well, here we are at the end of the most unique NFL season in memory. Was it the smartest idea in the world to stage an entire professional football season in the midst of a rampaging viral pandemic? No, it really wasn’t. But, somehow, the NFL managed to make it through the year without any outright disasters (sorry Broncos, having to start a practice squad WR at QB doesn’t really count), and they did it through the tried and true combination of blind luck and pure willful ignorance. Yay, I guess? I’m not going to pretend that I didn’t appreciate having games to watch, but the whole enterprise was downright impressive in its blatant disregard for common sense and social responsibility. That’s why it’s America’s game!

There’s still a fair amount of playoff-positioning to hash out this week, which always lends a nice bit of urgency to some of the proceedings. I’m far too lazy to go into those particular weeds myself, so I’ll just link you to someone else’s work if you want to study up on the various scenarios in play.

My picks are in BOLD, and the lines come to us courtesy of our friends at Vegas Insider. I use the “VI Consensus” line, which is the line that occurs most frequently across Vegas Insider’s list of sportsbooks. Your sportsbook of choice may offer a different number, and if you’d like my opinion on said number A) you are insane, and B) leave a comment below and I’ll try to answer at some point before things kickoff today.

EARLY GAMES

Baltimore Ravens (-14) at Cincinnati Bengals

If the Ravens win, they’re in the playoffs. The Bengals don’t have the horses to offer much resistance against a supremely motivated Ravens team. I will say that the most entertaining turn of events for someone with no dog in the fight would be for Baltimore to somehow lose this game, for the Browns to win, and for Ravens fans to have to sweat the result of the Colts/Jags game to see if they make the playoffs. Friend of the blog Fryan Turd would likely suffer a half-dozen heart attacks in this scenario.

Miami Dolphins at Buffalo Bills (-2)

I have no idea how important clinching the #2 seed in the AFC is to Buffalo, and if it’s not a big deal to them they may rest some guys for all or some of this game. The Dolphins will remain feisty to the very end, of that I’m certain.

Pittsburgh Steelers at Cleveland Browns (-9)

The Steelers are sitting a whole bunch of guys and the Browns are in the playoffs with a win. I will say that losing this game to Mason Rudolph and subsequently missing the postseason would be an incredibly Brownsy thing to do. 

Minnesota Vikings (-4) at Detroit Lions

Despite having nothing to play for and no reason to risk further punishment, Matthew Stafford is suiting up for this one. Dare I say that Stafford is...A GAMER? I do dare say it. I hope he whips ass and the Lions win in what could be his last home game in Detroit. I would sacrifice one of my siblings to get Stafford onto the Patriots this offseason, and also to get a larger share of my family estate.

New York Jets at New England Patriots (-3)

Oh man, this is not going to be a fun game to watch AT ALL. Sullen Bill Belichick, Broken Down Cam Newton, Traumatized Sam Darnold, Dead Man Walking Adam Gase--this game has way too many depressing ingredients, to say nothing of the very-likely-to-be atrocious quality of play. Let’s just move on.

Dallas Cowboys (-1.5) at New York Giants

This is essentially a playoff game, as each of these teams needs to win (and for Washington to lose) in order to clinch the shittiest division of all time. I’m taking Dallas here because they’ve been rolling in recent weeks and Daniel Jones isn’t close to 100% healthy, but what I want most is for the Giants to win, the Football Team to lose, and for us to get the hilarious spectacle of a 6-10 playoff team.

Atlanta Falcons at Tampa Bay Buccaneers (-7)

I’ve ridden with the Falcons all season, why stop now? 

[looks at season record] 

Okay, that might be a good reason to stop. BUT I AIN’T GONNA!

Hey, do you think Matt Ryan could end up on New England? He went to Boston College, right? What have I become, coveting other teams’ used goods? This is no way to live.

LATE GAMES

Green Bay Packers (-4) at Chicago Bears

I’m greatly enjoying the Trubiskaissance. The Bears making the playoffs would make for some tremendous restlessness and conflicting emotions among Bears fans, as a strong showing would likely mean that Mitchell and Matt Nagy will run it back next season. This would entertain me as a man who isn’t a Bears fan. 

Las Vegas Raiders (-2.5) at Denver Broncos

I truly have no opinions or thoughts on this particular contest. Oh wait, here’s one: fuck the Raiders for ruining so many of my picks. Here’s another: Do you think New England could trade for Derek Carr? HELP.

Jacksonville Jaguars at Indianapolis Colts (-14)

The Jags are quite possibly the most ready-to-start-their-vacation team in the league, and the Colts need to win this game to make the postseason. I’m bummed about how things turned out for my man Gardner Minshew this season in Jacksonville. I hope he’s able to continue his career with a franchise who appreciates his comedic potential more fully. You know who would love him? Famous mirth-merchant William Belichick.

Los Angeles Chargers (-4.5) at Kansas City Chiefs

Tremendous opportunity for Justin Herbert to pad his already fantastic rookie-year numbers against the K.C. JV team. The thing that makes me the most nervous about this pick is the possibility that Chargers Head Coach Anthony Lynn knows that this is his last game, and as a result will make sure to unveil his most breathtaking piece of clock-mismanagement performance art yet.

Arizona Cardinals (-3) at Los Angeles Rams

I can’t in good conscience get behind a team that intends to start John Wolford at QB, no matter how awesome their defense is. Then again, maybe if Sean McVay basically controls his movements Ratatouille-style the way he does with Jared Goff, he’ll be okay. If Arizona loses and misses the playoffs, Coach Handsome might experience the quickest progression of “This Guy Has No Idea What He’s Doing” to “This Guy Is A Genius Who Is Changing the Way Football Is Played” and back to “This Guy Is a Dipshit” of any coach I can remember.

Seattle Seahawks (-6.5) at San Francisco 49ers

The Seahawks continued there whole “now the defense is good, but the offense is kind of blah” thing last week in a 20-9 win over the Rams, and I see no reason to think things will change. The Niners finally got All-Pro TE George Kittle back from injury, but then immediately lost studly rookie WR Brandon Aiyuk. The injury gods have really had it in for them this season. Despite the brutal injury luck, San Fran has remained competitive all season, and I say they keep this one within a TD.

New Orleans Saints (-6) at Carolina Panthers

The Saints won’t have RBs Alvin Kamara, Latavius Murray, Dwayne Washington, or their fullback Michael Burton. They’ll also be without WR Michael Thomas once again. If I were Saints Head Coach Sean Payton, I’d start Taysom Hill at QB for this game so that he can use his legs to augment the severely diminished run-game, and also to give Drew Brees’ ribs more time to heal. I’d also be an insufferable dickhead. Well, more of one. Okay, I’d be the same, I’d just be addicted to pain pills. More addicted, I mean. I’m Sean Payton.

Tennessee Titans (-7) at Houston Texans

DeShaun Watson has been absurdly good this season, despite the total shitshow around him. He leads the league in Yards Per Attempt while also being third in the league in Completion Percentage at 70.1%. He’s not dinking and dunking his way to his eye-popping numbers. You’d think having a franchise QB in place would make this a primo job opening for potential head coaching candidates, but between the lack of high-end future draft picks and general ownership/executive ineptitude, it’s gotta give a desirable candidate pause. Yikes. Clearly, Houston should trade DeShaun Watson to New England. 

SNF: Washington Football Team (-3.5) at Philadelphia Eagles

The Eagles have nothing to play for and a bunch of key players are skipping tonight’s game. Among them are TE Dallas Goedert and RB Miles Sanders, which is going to make things extra tough for QB Jalen Hurts against Washington’s exceptionally nasty defense. The Football Team also has major injury questions, as QB Alex Smith, RB Antonio Gibson, and WR Terry McLaurin are all listed as Questionable. As of this writing, it looks like all three of them are going to play, but I have no clue how effective they’ll be. All of this uncertainty does not make for confident betting, imo.

Last Week’s Record: 4-7-1

Season Record: 99-112-8

[mrjohntsnyder]

Home Health OT Strategies and Insights

Is home health OT the right practice area for you? Are you already working as a home health occupational therapist, but hoping to enhance your practice? 

Below you will find an interview with home health OT, Monika Lukasievicz, about what drew her to this particular practice area and her desire to provide the best care possible to her clients.

After being in the field for several years, Monika has collected some of her hard-earned knowledge in a new ebook, Home Health OT Strategies and Insights. Monika has a keen eye, not only for the actual OT session with patients, but also the personal factors that influence our work.

Find out more about the book and some of Monika's favorite home health OTs resources at the bottom of the article.  

Interview with Monika about her work in home health occupational therapy and new ebook

Potential: What initially drew you to home health occupational therapy?

Monika: After nearly 6 years of work as an OT in outpatient, acute, SNF and inpatient rehab, I was drawn to the opportunity to practice the skills of an OT in the truest context that the client would be living.  I was working at a SNF when I decided to make the change. Using mock bathroom measurements and scenarios was getting old. For me, these revelations (combined with an opportunity to work for a local, non-profit) meant it was time to serve as a home health OT.

What challenges did you encounter in home health that were different than the other settings you had worked in?

I have to be way more organized and willing to initiate collaboration including via phone, text, email, and in-person.  I was surprised to learn I had to make all my own phone calls to set each appointment.  (No more walking down the hall and knocking on a door.) I had to become much more flexible in terms of planning (and re-planning) my day. The documentation types were also a challenge at first. This ranged from learning documentation to send my own faxes to doctors, email with patient family members, learning OASIS and SunCoast, and using Outlook for emailing more than I was used to in previous settings.  I also relate to the team differently due to typically being with them only in the mornings. Some therapists work for companies in which home health teams see each other once a week at most. 

What made you want to invest in home health OT as your practice setting of choice?

It is this setting, of being in the home, that gives me the best sense of flow.  The challenges of building rapport with the client starting on the first phone call to carefully navigating the personal space of a home to sharing specific recommendations carefully worded. The sense of creativity that emerges from being in the actual kitchen, bedroom, or especially bathroom is unlike I've experienced in any other setting thus far.

My greatest gifts of communication, responsibility, being strategic, and being a maximizer are hugely at play in this arena. I've been able to incorporate strategies from motivational interviewing, another passion area of mine.  

I am also highly independent and trusted to make decisions like creating and carrying out a schedule within the demands of productivity.  Direct training with family and caregivers is more realistic and welcomed.  Family members and caregivers often want the training and make sure to be present for those sessions. These are the reasons I choose home health. It even inspired me to study more about flow and how it relates to my OT practice.

When applying to an home health OT job what questions do you recommend people ask about the agency?

What are at least 2 qualities that are important to make a team member successful in this company as a home health OT?

How many patients will I be expected to treat each day?

Approximately how much mileage will I be expected to drive each week/day?

What would it look like for an OT to be successful in this position? Please describe what it would look like from a management or team perspective.

Why did past OTs leave this company?

Please describe the documentation system/process for an average day (at least for an average visit and an evaluation).

Where would you hope to see the OT department of this company/team be in 5 years?

What, if any, areas of expertise are either already present on the team or are wanted on the team (i.e. lymphedema, cognition, vision, neuro, ortho, motivational interviewing)?

You mention in the book that you hope to see a revolution in home health OT. Where would you like to see OT in 10 years?

Wow. Great question. It'd be great to see OT practicing from a more evidence-based position (and therefore finding effective ways to engage with research regularly), getting reimbursement for more lifestyle management type of treatments, and interacting more with each other in fun, supportive, and accountable ways. I'd love to see the confidence in OT as a profession and in its clinicians be solid, holding it's own ground. Portland, OR hosts regular pub nights for OTs and it'd be great to begin seeing that in more cities.

It is quite the leap from thinking about writing a book to actually putting pen to paper. What made you sit down and start writing?

There was a coffee shop that proved to be the perfect "writing office"! Writing a book was a personal interest. The topic was also naturally interesting and appeared to be relevant.  Recognizing that the biggest thing that blocks the pursuit of dreams is our own behavior and/or attitude, a decision was made to begin. I felt quite convinced that it was time to reach out and attempt to provide valuable information that I wish had been available to me.  

What do you hope fellow OTs gain from your ebook?

The hope is that readers gain inspiration to engage in a process that is effective and that can decrease suffering/stress in their days. My hope is that readers are able to realistically do this as a result of the book providing simple, effective tips to improve their effectiveness as well as decrease their experiences of stress.

In addition to your book, what other resources would you recommend to OTs who are looking to maximize their home health work? 

Here is a great online CEU (4 part, 6 hrs) called "Series: Defensible Documentation for the Home Health Therapist" by Diana Kornetti, PT and Cindy Kraft, PT.  

Occupational Therapy and Dementia Care: The home environmental skill building program for families and caregivers is a book created by an occupational therapist. The program has been heavily researched, too. (This program has been cited more than 200 times in other research literature.)  I found this while searching for research about dealing with dementia in home health. Here you can find information about in-person training about the program. 

I've enjoyed these tricks from an experienced OT on keeping the bag light and ready to address holistic needs.

I've also written for the About.com occupational therapy page: Home health is scheduled to start. Now What? 

A Sneak Peek at the Table of Contents

An Excerpt from the Introduction  

Is This eBook Right for You?

Pulling out your hair due to feeling crazy, stressed, disorganized, or all the above during your life and work as an occupational therapist in home health? Looking for simple ways to allow more peace, effectiveness, and powerful value in your home health practice? Do you love being able to fulfill your calling in the field of home health? Do you wish someone would write a book of solutions for common home health stressors that was so simple you could start implementing easy strategies today? Are you getting ready to begin a career in home health and eager to know more details about this area of practice? If yes, read on!

If you are open to and believe in the value of shared experience, this book is for you.

If you are looking ONLY for research, statistics, and specific evidence-based practice information, this book is not for you....

To continue reading you can purchase Home Health Strategies and Insights here.  

Buy Home Health OT Strategies and Insights from OT Blog - Potential • An OT Job and Resource Site http://ift.tt/2q7zFl2