#what is this the malaria of colds??

[neosatsuma]

I've had some kind of insane cyclical cold since Christmas and it's decimating me again. send me silly little things to draw if u want

[sparkly-sediment]

tf2 merc sick day headcanons?

TF2 mercs vs common cold headcanons

thank you for the ask!! always feel free to send them in 🥰🥰

Scout

Pitiful victorian child withering away, pleading mama to please carry him to the garden to witness one last merciful sunset

Sniffling and shivering. His nose is raw from blowing it and he sounds so congested Medic lowkey thinks he’s playing it up

Coughs with tongue out like a small cat

Scouts spent most of his life trying not to be the little bitch of the family. But he’s the youngest brother, mommy’s favorite, and emotionally sensitive

Predisposed puss boy 😔 acts like he has malaria when really brother is experiencing flu season

He stops getting flu shots when he becomes a mercenary because he Doesn’t trust Medic and notices it helps!

When Miss Pauling visits the base and he’s sick as fuck it’s the most she’s ever been attracted to him

Which is minimal due to her lesbianism

Soldier

He purposely infects the others

Mf is the reason there is a sick day 😭 He’ll cough and hack all over your personal space and get mad about it

Like how dogs get aggressive when they’re injured

Okay look I love Soldier but he is an ASSHOLE when he’s sick

He pushes through any and all physical aliments to keep working (Medic ties him down. He escapes) and drags sick coworkers along with him

Scout looks like he’s about to fucking die and Soldier is trying to yell at him to quit being a pansy but he can’t even yell without hacking up a lung

Literally hacks up a lung at dinner and collapses with blood spilling out of his mouth. Chaos ensues

RUINS pasta night. But it follows his cycle

Become sick, ignore, fight, crash out, sleep for 72 hours, and lock in

Would be an anti masker 😭

Engineer

Fairly reasonable. He feels like shit, gets his job done, and retires to his quarters 🐴 🤠

He has to take the rest of the day in bed after passing out (thick overalls +fever do NOT work)

Weary and acts much older than he is… starts getting progressively sentimental the longer he’s sick and talking about his memories as a boy

Will walk with a hand on his lower back when he has a cold as if his body is shutting down

Curls up into a little ball and only drinks chicken noodle soup which Soldier makes for him

there are piece of metal in it but he spits them out. Iron is good for you anyway

Texans so drinks whisky mixed with his cough syrup

vomits profusely on the side durning matches which leaves both teams concerned+repulsed

Medic

Shockingly, he really doesn’t get sick

Over worked and sleep deprived usually make a ho more susceptible to illness, especially when he’s around bodies that are opened the varying degrees

And you know that mf is not sanitary okay

Medic said fuck PPE we ballin

Eventually Medic falls gravely ill

He’s in bed with an ice pack on his head and mercy thermometer like a cartoon child

Wears a nightcap. I know this for a fact

Since he’s the team’s Medic when he gets sick, everything spirals. It’s like mom left to visit family and dad is not involved in his children’s lives because 😭 the descent is swift

Engineer picks up what paperwork he can but Medic is the team’s daddy and without hum they are lost!! And fighting!! And Scout is getting blood everywhere!!

Medic hibernates in his bedroom hidden behind the medbay. Heavy checks up one him, brings food and water, and will sit and read from his favorite books

Medic doesn’t speak Russian and has a raging headache but he loves it so complies

Definitely some sort of “I’m Doctor now” dialogue and they giggle but when Heavy leaves the birds attack him for food

The birds flock to him and guard his bed. They only let Heavy through. The doves bring Medic small gifts and trinkets, usually tongue depressors and coins. They’ve sworn allegiance long ago

Heavy

He’s a throw up kind of guy. It’s giving emesis red (vomiting blood 😰)

Heavy still lives in the mindset that sickness=death. It’s gotten better over the years but after his time in the Gulag watching disease spread like wildfire and death extinguish it, he absolutely loathes being sick and does all he can to avoid it

Obsessive handwashing, won’t sit directly next to someone while eating if they sniffle

He likely gets sick from taking care of Medic and views it as a betrayal

Should’ve left him to the birds

Heavy is very defensive and avoidant if he’s sick. He does his best to keep it a secret and ups his macho acts for reasons previously mentioned

At first Medic is like “wtf” since he didn’t anticipate his bae being so on edge but when he learns why they hold each other and murmurs sweet things

Heavy recovers very quickly though and bounces WAY back. A day in bed with electrolytes and emotional healing and he is rocking his shit again!

Wakes up one morning with a small silver coin and a single white feather on his nightstand

The council thanks him

Sniper

The common cold ravages this man

Chris Trager from Parks n Rec. One grain of sand comprises his delicate microchip

Sniper is mentally tough but his body is delicate tbh. He’ll feel fine but then he has a fever of 104 and the walls are taking

He disappears into his camper van and after a few days the others start to worry

Scout and Engineer do a wellness check and find Sniper passed out, face down on the camper floor, with jars of radioactive piss on the counter

Sick Jarate ends lives immediately upon contact

Severe dehydration and he probably has wicked diarrhea. Medic has to give him an IV and nurse him back to health like an injured dove

Doves fw Sniper and by their blessing he heals

Sniper gets primal when he’s sick and builds a nest and stops grooming. Sweaty, messy hair, dirty tank top. When Scout sees him the runner nearly combusts

Sniper hocks snot into empty cans

Spy

Very fussy when sick. Refuses to be put down for a nap

Spy’s voice gets super nasally and ragged when sick and occasionally he’ll lose it all together

Nasal drip means this man is hacking and gasping for breath 😍

He carries a handkerchief like an old ass man and keeps it meticulously folded in his suit pocket

Groans a lot when he moves. He’ll still smoke though, just a bit more slowly, and it really genuinely does make things worse

Spy goes to the medbay for cold medicine and Medic is appalled to see him light up a cigarette. Spy gets an ass chewing for that one 😔

Because of being a chronic heavy smoker his lungs are bot doing great. His breathing is ragged, he’s wheezing and constantly out of breath. When he gets into a coughing fit, he struggles to regain himself and it scares him

Probably the one who infects Sniper. Goes to back stab, spit droplets transfer, contamination occurs

Spy retires to his smoking room and passes out on the chair. He wakes up drenched in sweat and disoriented

Stumbles back to his room and drinks a bottle of something brown

Next morning back on the grind (not

He stays sick but pretends he isn’t since it doesn’t feel suave enough for him

Demoman

He doesn’t realize he’s sick!! The pounding headache, tummy ache, exhaustion, and chills pass off as a terrible hangover

When his symptoms aren’t alleviated by drinking, he starts to take note

Medic offers him some strong cold medicine but says Demo can’t drink on it

So obviously a no-go. Tavish is rawdogging the cold and is loudly whining about it

Not whining like Scout, but like an overstimulated neurodivergent child crying as their mother rushes them out of walmart and apologizes profusely for bringing them after school (ifykyk)

Weeps from the weight of it all and it is actually sad 😭 the others unite to take care of him

Accidentally blows open half the base because sickness and explosives don’t go well together

Eventually our sniveling Scotsman caves and takes the medication. Within two hours he downing a bottle of scrumpy and then he is fucking gone

He isn’t on Earth anymore. His body might be, but Demo has ascended

He projectile vomits in a bathroom stall and does not clean it

Crawls outside because he thinks he’s dying and when Sniper makes his morning walk from his van to the base, he finds Demo face down in the dirt

Sniper considers leaving him there but feels too guilty

Second most pitiful of the mercs

Pyro

It’s the only time they’ll willingly enter the medbay

On the outside, Pyro sick isn’t too different from Pyro healthy. It’s hard to tell if someone has a cold when they live in a rubber suit

Cries out in the middle of breakfast and lays their head on the table in defeat. The room clears expect for Engineer, who eventually pries out that Pyro isn’t feeling her best

I feel like Pyro snorts coke to get through the work day and then they collapse in bed

Most pitiful of all the mercs and makes you wanna nurture them back to health like a small animal or perhaps bird

When Pyro gets the chills they have one solution. It is not a good solution.

Find them sitting in the middle of a roaring blaze because she cold

[yannasuniverse]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐥 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Paige Bueckers x oc!Amira smith

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Amira and Paige have been dating for a while now. Amira has a really bad addiction to weed and alcohol due to past trauma and anxiety. Amira had promise Paige that she would stop after she has expressed her concern for Amir health. One day Paige comes to Amira dorm after practice only to find Amira Breaking the promise making Paige end the relationship leaving both her and Amira heartbroken.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Weed, achool, Crying, cussing if there’s any grammar that needs to be fixed let me know!

𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬!: This part is set when Amira and Paige are juniors in College this is important to know.

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚: Don’t worry guys I change the name I didn’t know malaria was a disease😭. This is probably gonna be a two-part story or three part I really don’t know yet.

“Amira what the fuck are you doing?!”

Amira jump at the sudden burst heart dropping to her stomach, Her chest tight as she felt Paige’s foot  steps come closer to her.

“Paige baby look it’s not what it look like-” She started, but was cut off by Paige slapping the blunt out of her hand. Amira look up at Paige who was now standing over her with a pain look on her face.

Paige look around the room, bottles of tequila scattered around the room the room reeked of smoke.

“I thought you said you quit?” Paige said tears welling in her eyes, betrayal filled her voice as she squat down, grabbing Amira face making sure she was looking at her.

“I did am just-” “Bullshit” Amira red eyes look at Paige’s blue eyes, Amira could feel the dispontment raiding off of her.

Paige got up, letting out of a sigh running her hands over her face, Amira eyes watch her ever movement. It was silent for a bit only Paige soft sinfles could be heard. Amira felt guilty. She felt guilty before— but not this bad she let down the only girl who actually really loved her. She could only watch not knowing what to do.

“I can’t do this anymore.” Her words made Amira world stop, Amira jump up, her whole body hot as she try to make her way to Paige but failing miserably as she end up on the floor.

Tears rolled down both of their faces as the stared at each, daring to break eye contact “Baby please don’t leave me, I’ll stop-” Amira said, chocking out sob, holding the bad frame for support as she tried to get up.

Paige could only stare at her girlfriend current state, her heart was beating out of her chest as she watch Amira struggle. Walking over to Amira bending down to her. Paige hot skin came in contact with Amira cold skin. Amira instantly wrap her arms around Paige starting to sob in Paige’s shoulder cause her shirt to be wet.

She could only hold onto her tightly afraid to let go, Knowing once she let go she would be gone. Paige began to whisper soft sweet nothings into Amira’s ear to calm her. Her heart broke seeing Amir like this but she knew she had to let her go. She couldn’t deal with the lying, the promise’s— She just couldn’t.

Looking down hear the sobs quiet down, Amir had fell asleep due to cry to much. Paige pick’s her up carefully, placing her onto her bed. Putting one of Amira many blanket’s on her.

“Bye Amira, Just know I’ll was love you and I’ll be waiting for you” She said, with love in her voice but with a bit of sadnesses.

Giving Amir one last look before walking out. That’s what finally made her broke down, The tears started to pour down her face. Sliding down the door bring her legs towards her body, Hugging herself to feel Comfort. 

She felt so cold without Amira, Her head hurt knowing that you and her were over for good.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @ashortyluvsports @paigeluvvr @pinkyqily @starlighttsv @jadasogay @niya500 @remythemousechef @chapellroanenthusiast @r24blog Some if y’all acc didn’t show but I just put the people who said yes to me writing this!

[boyakishan]

Alien: I'm going out!

Human: why?

Alien: well, it's frankly stuffy-

Human: it's going to rain in *sniffs air* half an hour?

Alien: but. It's not even cloudy.

Human: yeah. You're here in the tropics. Remember?

Alien: ... You're being ridiculous. Back on my planet, the rains are big and heavy.

Human: same here, those are monsoon rains though. What I smell is your standard shower. [Tropics people, y'know what I mean by shower].

Alien: it won't be that bad.

Human: bring the light jacket and hat.

Alien: I won't need it!

Twenty minutes later:

Human: told you.

Alien: how is this standard rain.

Human: welcome to the jungle. It'll be gone in anywhere between. 8 hours to ten minutes.

Alien: what?

Human: doesn't smell that thick. So... Ten minute range.

Alien: ... I thought you were Australian.

Human: I thought I told you I was also from the tropics. Also, Australia's even worse. There the rain can go for a week, to a minute.

Alien: ....

Human: not to mention it's COLD.

Alien: what?

Human: now get in, you're gonna contract malaria or some shit.

Alien: what??

Human: Doesn't matter, get in before you explode like a water balloon.

[rrr-is-gay]

Okay, I know it’s a mosquito net, but there’s something so gay about Ram’s bed canopy, especially with all the romantic, boudoir-style closeup shots that happen around it.

Honestly, Ram’s entire flat looks like some kind of Oscar Wilde level gay dandy professor homo bookworm heaven. No straight man can interior decorate like this!

It just makes me appreciate the attention to detail in RRR. This set was lovingly built and furnished to deepen the viewer’s understanding of Ram, and I feel like that’s something that’s totally gone in modern Hollywood. So many residential sets in American movies are sparse, minimalist, cold, clinical, barren. This set feels so much more REAL! It’s warm, lived in, and it tells me a lot about the man who occupies it. It’s not only more beautiful to look at, it’s more useful to the characterization. ESPECIALLY when you contrast it with Bheem’s intro sequence, what his home looks like. You can really feel how differently the two men had been living before they met in the middle.

Take this shot of Bheem sat comfortably on the floor while Ram stays in his wooden chair. This tells me SO MUCH about Ram’s internalized colonization and Bheem’s enduring connection to his roots.

And this shot of Bheem lovingly gazing at Ram asleep at his desk, with that tiny moment of confusion as Bheem tries to understand the words printed on the pages that surround him. The messy set is essential to my understanding of their dynamic! There are things which consume Ram that Bheem cannot understand.

Back to the canopy: Why is this shot so fucking sexy???? The intimate lighting, the delicate, diaphanous quality of the canopy and how it softens Bheem’s features… The camera treats this canopy like a wedding veil, not a functional mosquito net. It brings us into Ram’s bed with Bheem in such an erotic way… I fucking cannot get over it!!!!!

Anyway, I love Ram, I love his gay flat, and I love his mosquito net princess bed canopy. Fighting malaria AND serving interior design? You love to see it!

[idontknowreallywhy]

Quiet

So this is the Chapter 4 of Bearded (tumblr / AO3) that I never really intended to write, but felt a little mean for leaving poor Scott where I did and so I used a little something I began to draft for @edutainer2022 AGES ago but never quite progressed… and I think it works!

Obviously I’ve made it worse before finally making it better but y’know… contrasts.

Usual warning that this is angsty malaria-ridden POW Scotty. No graphic torture or anything but he’s not at his best or having the best time.

💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠💠

It had all gone very quiet.

Not the strange underwater-quality of quiet he’d been experiencing for days, almost as though the perpetual darkness that was now the sum total of his visual world was leaking into his auditory one.

No… no this was Quiet. Not just muffled noises but no noises.

None at all.

Had he lost his hearing altogether? He felt a surge of panic break through the eerie calm that seemed to smother his exhausted mind each time the fever dipped for a few hours. What if he couldn’t hear Virgil play anymore? Or little Alan’s giggle? He tried to remember the sound of his tiny brother’s laughter and encountered a frosted glass wall behind which the memory crouched. Scott reached for it… he could remember the feeling… but not the sound. No! No!!! He couldn’t lose that too!

A broken cry echoed off the walls of the tiny, unfamiliar cell.

Wait.

That was sound. He heard that!

The relief was quickly shoved aside by the terror. They might have heard that!

He held his breath and waited but nobody came.

Of course… the door was fairly solid and there were no windows here. He’d begun to curse the small barred hole near the ceiling of his old cell for the cold draft that sliced through it but now…

Now he felt the loss of that glimpse of sky like an open wound.

He didn’t know how long it had been since he’d been slung into this claustrophobic hellhole… when they’d apparently given up on getting any sense out of him. When the shouting and the pain had been replaced by the dark and the loneliness and the lurking fear that the next stage was an even smaller box.

Ha, silly boy, Tracy. They wouldn’t bother with a box.

His mind wandered for a moment as he wondered when they’d next check on him. Why they were leaving it to nature rather than just finishing him off themselves?

Perhaps they believed nature was crueller.

They obviously wanted to prolong it… Water and some kind of dry biscuit appeared occasionally and he hadn’t been able to help himself when he realised it was there - but he could never remember it arriving - clearly when the fever rose he was losing time. He hated not being able to track the time. It was all he’d had.

The last number he’d calculated with any kind of reasonable basis for it was seventy eight. Seventy eight days plus however long he’d been in the dark. Maybe a week? He’d survived that long. Grimly he wondered if he could stretch it to an even 100. He didn’t know for sure how sick he was, but he didn’t feel too optimistic. When they were still trying to break him they seemed to be giving him something for the fever… or perhaps it had just been something else awful they’d forced into his bloodstream. Maybe whatever it was was causing the fever? No… that didn’t make sense because they seemed irritated by it… worried even. Not for him of course but from what he’d picked up he wasn’t the only one suffering with it. Even some of the guards he’d learned to recognise had stopped turning up.

Something had gone wrong.

And what went wrong for them should be good for him. And yet… he scrunched up his face wryly as he felt the sweat begin to prickle at his hairline again and tried not to panic at the prospect of what was coming, at the impending loss of reality: where the living nightmare was made worse by vividly seeing his brothers experiencing it alongside him. Dad’s disappointed face. The blood on his hands… All the pain he’d… it wouldn’t be real. It won’t be real. It can’t be. He wouldn’t.

They’re safe.

Just wait it out, Tracy. You’ve got this.

He shivered and the ache in his bones intensified into daggers of pain.

He hadn’t got this. He hadn’t. Nobody could.

Yeah, he wouldn’t have wished this on anyone. Not even his worst enemies. Even when it was their fault. He’d happily have killed them for what they’d done to him and to the others. The sick bastards deserved death. But not this. This was worse.

He didn’t deserve this. Whatever they told him.

Whatever it was, they seemed not to be treating it now. And it hadn’t gone away. So presumably it would get him eventually.

Why was it so Quiet? Even when it was quieter they were clearly still around. He had evidence - the food and water for one. And clearly they were opening the heavy door at some point as even with the slight crack at the bottom the air in here should have gotten bad by now. The oxygen replaced by… whatever poison it was he was expelling from his lungs. The word, the name of the gas escaped him as so many things did now.

But there were some names he mustn’t forget.

He wiped at his damp forehead with a shaking hand, twisted his lank hair around his fingers and pulled gently. Come on, focus.

The whisper when it came required nearly all the energy he had.

“Hhhhh’Aaaaall…an”

Ok ok next one.

“G…g…hoord..nn”

“Tjjhh…onnn”

“Fff… vfff… vfff”

Come on. He bit down on a swollen broken lip and tried again.

“Ffffff….”

A panicked whimper escaped. He was losing this! He was losing them!

He could see him, brown eyes shining with adoration, his hand reaching out to hold his big brother’s and Scott’s own hand rebounded agonisingly off the metal door as he flung himself at the mental lifeline:

“FFFFFFVVIIIIIRGIIIILLL!!”

His throat burned from the scream and his ears rang. His head pounded and he could feel the fever rising again.

Footsteps thundered out of the silence.

Now he’d done it. Now he would be punished. Perhaps it would be the last, if there was any mercy left in the world. Scott pressed his forehead against the coolness of the stone floor and tried to be brave but as the door was wrenched open and so many voices thundered against his skull he couldn’t avoid cringing and curling himself away as the fever spiked again and he held his breath and flailed impotently against the sea of pain in which he swam. He tried to relax and let himself sink to the bottom, to take a breath and let it be but something was tugging at his attention. A muffled voice filtered down through the churning waves:

“Scotty! Bluejay! Stay with me! We’ve got you… stay with me. Please stay with me.”

💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙

Little self-indulgent note - I’ve also designed it to mirror what happens later between Scott & Virgil at the hospital in Response. Because connecting things pleases me 😁

[lemurlord]

In defense of the Siberia Dimension

To preface this likely very controversial text, I will say that I am Ukrainian, so the memes about the Siberian gulags is slightly more than just memes to me. Was I kinda pissed at that proceeding. Yes. Still, I felt like some of your people's takes were mighty uncharitable, so here this is.

It is important to understand that the Siberia Dimension was not an idea formed and executed in a vacuum. Rather, as a consequence and result of the Prison Takeover fiasco, which once again reminded of the simple fact: parahumans are a resource. And a great collection of morally flexible parahumans incarcerated in a singular insular location, ready to swear allegiance to whoever frees them, before we even factor in Master powers? We've seen what happened. Or almost happened.

But you need to keep these assholes somewhere. The obvious solution is to divide and compartmentalise, but holding them at police station is an untenable position at best, as demonstrated by the Hollow Point faction.

Hence, the Siberia Dimension, Birdcage's daughter. Born out of the same necessity to contain human weapon. A shitty, cruel, flawed option, but the only one that won't immediately collapse on itself liek a house of cards. Sure, stranding someone in a winter forest with some supplies is a shitty move, but it prevents both a malicious actor taking control of a bunch of villains at once, and chains the prisoner to their location. And cold is much either for the authorities to help with than malaria on a deserted tropical island, I imagine.

Also, if we need to shit on something, let's shit on the original prison. What do you mean those guys didn't have a single parahuman-or-equivalent threat of their own? Dragon didn't bother to park one shitty mech in general proximity of the massive point of interest for every dickhead with delusions of world domination? Absolute clownage.

[mercurygray]

I will be all over it if there's Dr Huston fic with Vivian, fyi.

For those of you just tuning in to the broadcast, Vivian Arsenault is one of my Pacific OCs; she's a nurse who's been imprisoned on Bataan and her sister, Laura, appears in The Darkening Sky.

I wish I had a more concrete idea for this, George, I really do!

Vivian's time as a POW is such a important part of how she functions as a character, and so taking her out of that timeline leaves this kind of...weird hole, in her backstory. Was she at Pearl Harbor, at Hickam Field? Recalled from Corregidor with a really bad case of malaria? Part of her backstory is that she was and has been in the middle of things and now isn't ...quite able to be in the middle of things any more.

Which works really well for the flak house, right?

If she's been invalided out of the Nurse Corps, maybe joining the Red Cross is...the next best thing. (I don't know how she'll deal with malaria in England, where it is cold, but that's what whump is for, right?) They assign her to the flak house knowing that she's not up to Clubmobile work, with her condition, and she throws herself into this the same way she throws herself into everything. (Her sister's still nursing, right? And her brother is still on a tank crew. She can't let her family down, not when her little siblings are still doing so much) And into this comes Dr. Adam Huston, flight surgeon with the 96th bomb group, assigned here himself as a matter of rehabilitation. They can share stories they'd rather not share with anyone else and he can cuddle her through malarial chills and they can make out a little in a hallway or something.

"Adam..." "Shhh, it's theraputic." "For me?" "No, for me. Now, stop talking."

[darkmaga-returns]

DMSO: ‘Transformative’

During the pandemic, a relative few doctors dared to treat Covid-19 with off-label medications like ivermectin and hydroxychloroquine, at the risk of their reputations and licenses. Both drugs were safe and FDA-approved and had saved millions from river blindness and malaria; ivermectin had won its researchers the Nobel Prize in Medicine in 2015. The drugs also worked against Covid-19.

Now, in the pandemic aftermath, some of these doctors are again veering outside the entrenched pharmaceutical model with dimethyl sulfoxide.

An over-the-counter supplement and drug, DMSO has been known since the 1960s to allay many maladies—promoting circulation; reducing catastrophic swelling; resolving blood clots; healing burns, wounds, and skin disorders; curbing chronic pain; and—among its greatest powers—stopping strokes and healing their aftermath.

But DMSO was inexpensive, safe, and natural, meaning this substance from wood-pulp processing could not be patented. And so it was largely forgotten by medicine.

Until now.

“Last week I cut my finger while making dinner. I had that feeling I was going to need stiches as it was deep and gushing. I had some DMSO in my kitchen somewhere in the 10-20 percent range. I poured it on my finger and within 10 seconds it stopped bleeding, no pain or swelling and the edges came together. I’ve never seen anything like that before!!! Wild.”

That testimonial was sent by a patient to Dr. Pierre Kory, a pulmonologist and former intensive care chief at the University of Wisconsin-Madison whose hospital career ended when he opposed top-down Covid-19 protocols. Dr. Miller, too, left his job as a respected surgeon, having rejected the standard covid menu of patented drugs and what he saw as risky vaccines.

[splashgal]

Bridgerton Recap- 1x6: 'Swish'

We open on multiple long range shots of the Hastings carriage, including one from overhead. Dame Julie tells us that she’s very happy for Simon and Daphne as they suck face and then she tells us they better have stamina, because they are about to be fucking like crazy. At least we are getting a heads up on it, as Julie announced grandly that she is of course talking about the honeymoon. We actually got that, Jules. They pull up in front of their estate in Clyvedon, and it is crazy-town banana pants. There’s a really nice brass-heavy instrumental piece playing as Daphne climbs out of the carriage, and I just need to say that I effin’ love the music on this show. Well done, Kris Bowers.

Anyway, Dame Julie tells us there is nothing more romantic than escaping society and leaving behind watchful eyes. Ah yes, just the Duke, the Duchess, their fifteen trunks, their thirty-seven staff, and their eleventy-billion rooms. How quaint. Simon climbs the steps and greets Mrs. Colson, who, despite her Frau Blucher energy, seems psyched to see him.

And if you got that reference, you were possibly at least born in the same decade as me. He introduces Daphne, who Frau Colson seems warmish toward. She announces that she has lunch prepared, to be followed by a tour of their giant ass house. Simon puts the kibosh on that idea, as he has some boning to do, and all but drags Daphne inside as his housekeeper kind of rolls her eyes.

Daphne is in awe of her new palace, but Simon is just looking for a flat surface. He will get less picky as the episode goes on, for what it’s worth. His new bride is scandalized that he would pick her up in front of their assembled staff. They giggle together as he carries her off.

Oh wow, I thought we would go to a title card, but we are over at the Queen’s gardens ( I think at least). And Julie is still going too! She says everyone is going to miss Saphne, maybe at least they will return with a bun in the oven. This is yet another one of those outdoor scenes where everyone looks cold. Poor Pen’s lips are practically blue. She and Eloise eye each other warily. It needs to be noted that once again, Violet is wearing way too much mesh netting around her neck. Is she ready for a malaria outbreak here? And this time, she has taken poor El too, who is covered to up her chin and down to her wrists in sheer fabric.

Hyacinth asks what they think Daphne is doing right now. Rather than start in on her basset hound story from the last episode, Violet just says she probably has ‘many new duties’. Wah wah. She goes on to say that Eloise needs to start learning these things before her debut next season. El has practically been itching for a chance to launch into a diatribe about stupid men and their stupid feet and their stupid personalities, and do you think it was just too on the nose to make her the lesbian in the family? Someone who I think is little adorable Greg comes up and swats at Hyacinth, who runs off after him. I just noticed Anthony and Benedict are behind them, chatting up a couple of generic-looking blondes. Violet mentions that El needs to also lower her hemlines, presumably to signal to the men of the ton that her ankles are now considered sexy and therefore off limits from view. Eloise tells her mum that she does not have the time to visit the modiste, since the Queen has tasked her with unmasking Whistledown. Violet opens her mouth in shock, but before she can say anything, we…

Oh, good lord. Colin and his cerulean crushed velvet jacket and his Jimmy Neutron hair clinks his glass, getting everyone’s attention. For what it’s worth, Marina looks fucking fabulous though. He says he has an announcement to make and Penelope is already hyperventilating.

Colin has proposed and Marina has accepted! Anthony practically swallows his tongue, but Portia is psyched! I’m telling you, she is into Colin. Aw, little adorable Gregory is there with his little adorable dimples! Even Feather-Baron is happy. Violet looks like she has spoiled milk in her mouth and a giant shower puff on her head. Pen looks so sad, you guys. Anthony rushes to her mother and asks if she knew about this. She tells him to cram it because people are looking at them for a reaction. They join the crowd of Top Hatters surrounding the happy couple.

We cut to Anthony and Colin in Anthony’s study. Ant and his pointy pointy sideburns are reading Colin the riot act for proposing to someone he hardly knows. What was Colin thinking? The younger sibling says he was thinking Anthony would react this way and Anthony brings up Violet not being cool with this. Colin argues that she congratulated him, so she must be fine. His hair is half the size it was in the last scene.

Anthony does not strangle his brother, so I think he should get a little credit. He asks if Colin banged Marina and Colin, in his ponciest voice replies that he would never, he is a gentleman. How dare you suggest he would lay with a woman before marriage! Anthony asks why the hell he is getting married then and Colin cuts in and says he’s in love. Oh, sweetie. Anthony then proceeds to crack splashguy up by suggesting that Colin is too virginal and it’s his fault that he didn’t take him to enough whorehouses after he came home from school. He asks if Colin is trying to just ‘wet his wick’, which is an excellent euphamism by the way. Colin cuts in and calls Anthony an asshole, and Anthony doubles down and says he should really bang a bunch of chicks so this one doesn’t seem that important. It's a bold strategy, Cotton. Let's see if it pays off for him!

And it’s a miss as Colin stands from his chair to yell and Anthony to shut his fucking pie hole. He’s insulting Marina and himself and he’s sorry that Anthony was grown in a lab and doesn’t understand basic human feelings. His pants are really tight, y'all. Anthony calls Colin ‘a child’ and Colin shoots back that he’s older than Daphne. It’s not the same though, she was shipped off to have someone else care for her. Anthony calls him immature, which- fair. Colin says he doesn’t need Anthony’s permission, but he would like his blessing. Anthony essentially blows a raspberry at him and he leaves. Don’t worry Colin, you just have to work on your gameplay. Next time do all of this stuff while he’s out of the country (spoiler!).

And we are FINALLY at the title screen! Holy shit you guys, I need a nap.

Simon and Daphne are naked, macking on each other. Get used to that sentence, I’m going to use it a lot in this episode. I might make a macro. Daphne notes that moms don’t tell girls about sex so they will occasionally do something else with their time. They roll around as they cutely argue back and forth about whether or not Daphne should blow off Frau Colson and her tour. She puts on her robe and gives him an adorable curtsy on her way out.

Simon sits in silence for approximately one point three seconds before his valet Jeffries comes in and says he’s got the study ready for work. Simon argues that he’s supposed to be just fucking full time and then looks like a real jerk when Jeffries points out that his tenants are poor and starving and have been asking to see him. Simon and his shaved chest relent and says he will go work.

Daphne is on the boring tour with Frau Colson, who is trying to give her history on the estate. Little Miss Know-It-All talks over the top of her, looking very pleased with herself. Daphne prattles on in each room, causing Frau Colson to get more and more irritated. The housekeeper mentions an upcoming fair and says she’s RSVPed for Daphne already. The Duchess suggests that the staff should be able to go to, which the older woman tries unsuccessfully to shut down. They pause on the staircase and look up at a portrait of Simon’s mother, Poor Dead Sarah. Frau Colson pointedly calls her a ‘perfect Duchess’. Ouch. They pause in the doorway to the nursery, with the housekeeper giggling strangely. I guess because she knows they have sex? I don’t know, it’s weird. Daphne asks to move on, and they head out to look at the grounds.

We cut to later in the formal dining room, where Daphne is nervously touching the silverware as she sits in a gown at one end of the table. Simon wanders in with his clothes half-on and notices how stuffy it is in there. One of his footman says that the Douchke liked dinner to be formal. Simon sits at the other end of the table as Daphne helps herself to some asparagus that looks very out of season. She’s talking about the gardens, but pauses when he doesn’t engage. She asks what’s wrong and he whines that she’s so far away. She suggests that they go to the kitchen to eat with Alfred instead.

No wait, sorry. I got confused. The Duchess picks up her plate and goes down to join him at his end of the table. Everyone watches, aghast at the moxie of these two. She wants to talk about redecorating, but he’s already trying to undress her. Daphne asks if they should go upstairs, and he says he has a better idea.

Cue the Taylor Swift montage people! I’m not going to really recap this too much, because sex is kinda boring to write about in this particular medium. They run out to the gazebo and we establish another Bridgerton kink- having sex anywhere but a bed. It’s raining, she looks good in her corset, he pulls out and she asks after his sperm. He says he feels great and then we are watching them continue to go at it. One the bed, on the floor, on a towel by the door. She’s on a ladder in their library. You guys were so busy wondering if you could that you didn’t think about if you should. I guarantee there’s a sofa two feet from you!

Later, Rose is brushing her hair and Daphne giggles about how much fun sex is and Rose teases her about her tangles. That was cute.

Back in Mayfair, Whistledown is being delivered. Colin stalks into the dining room as Ben tries to diffuse a fight between Hyacinth and Gregory. When his siblings notice him, they all vamoose and Colin sits at the table with his mother. He apologizes and she replies that she should be relieved that she found out about his engagement before Lady Whistledown. It was actually at the same time, but that’s neither here nor there I guess. He points out that he’s been courting Marina ‘all season’, but I’m not falling into this trap again. Is it morning? Is it June? Is it still the 1800s? There’s no way of knowing on this show. He goes full middle child and pouts that Violet has been giving Daphne all of her attention. Violet states that she thought he was just flirting, because he flirts with everyone. This will be mentioned multiple times on this series, and I just have to say- when? We never see him flirting. Is it all off screen? Do they think I’ll be so distracted by his magnificent hair that I won’t notice they’re telling us and not showing us this character trait? Violet worriedly says that she’s never seen him so serious. He huffs that no one takes him seriously besides Marina.

Violet takes Colin’s hand and laments not being prepared to let him grow up and leave. He says she still has a lot on her plate with the ones who are left. ‘Especially Eloise, good luck with that one’. Ha!

Then we are across the street at Feather-House. Pen is outside the drawing room, listening in as Marina chats with Anastasia and Drizella Prudence and Phillipa. Does Marina think that Colin will introduce them to his hot friends? Marina is sure he will, and their fortunes are about to change. Pen steps into the room and sarcastically says that Colin’s definitely will. She goes to grab a book and Marina tells her she looks lovely in her canary yellow dress. Pen snaps ‘do not mock me’ with a tight smile before flouncing over to her (second) favorite settee. Marina follows and sits next to her, saying she doesn’t want Pen to think she’s mocking her. Pen spits at her that she doesn’t want pity either. Marina says she respects Pen and wants her continued friendship. Pen astutely replies ‘my continued silence you mean,’ without even looking up from her book. Meow. Marina keeps going though, telling Pen that she can’t bear Pen thinking so little of her and Pen finally snaps that she will not cause scandal, but she is not going to condone this either. Marina has the audacity to ask if Pen can’t be a little happy for her, like- read the room, sweetheart. I swear, the better the hair, the less the braincells with this group. Portia busts in and says that she needs to take Marina to Linens and Things to- oh no, wait. They need to go to the modiste to get her trousseau. Pip notes jealously that Marina gets a new wardrobe and a hot husband, and then notes that their baby will be beautiful. Pru stares at her for a moment before reminding Pip that Hot Colin is not the babydaddy, and they both giggle. Pen snaps at them for making fun of Dumb Hot Colin. ‘You are no fun anymore,’ Prudence notes. ‘Was I ever?’ Pen asks rhetorically before stomping out of the room.

Over at Gen’s Fabric Emporium, Violet is fussing with Eloise about wearing her hair up next season, saying she will look lovely. I mean, she needs to work on those bangs, mum. Genevieve comes over and murmurs that she knows they’re here to talk about Eloise’s impending showing on the cattle floor, but before Violet can really get into checking her hooves, Portia bursts in with Marina in tow. She’s really acting like the Koolaid Man this episode.

Anyway, she’s super excited to see Violet. Portia states that the two families will be connected forever now, and it sounds like the threat. Portia invites Violet and ‘dear Colin’ and Anthony to dinner to celebrate, and Violet says she will talk to Ant. Portia then pulls Gen away to the back, but Gen says she will not work on Marina’s trousseau until their bill is paid. She suggests that they find a seamstress across town. Oh no she didn’t! Marina proves that she’s the daughter Portia wants, but not the one she deserves by asking Madame Delacroix where in France she’s from, and then, in French, threatens her. Portia is so turned on right now. El looks over at them suspiciously.

We cut to the ‘Safety Dance’ video. Oh no, it’s actually the fair that Frau Colson was talking about during the tour. Daphne and Simon stand by a hog enclosure. Daphne asks the man next to her in an unfortunate tri-corner hat what the prize is for the winner. Slaughter! She looks over at Simon, who chuckles. Does he not know how this works? Didn’t he ask Jeffries, my favorite character in this show right now? Anyway, Daphne announces that everyone is a winner. Oh, she’s one of those. There is very lukewarm applause, and then we get a shot of Frau Colson in the crowd practically doing one of those ‘Airplane’ face palms.

Yep, we got references to Men Without Hats, ‘Young Frankenstein’, and Koolaid in this recap. Don’t tell me I’m not hip with the lingo of the young kids!

Daphne is sampling things and having a grand old time at the fair. She tastes a hot water crust pie that looks really really good before they are approached by a man in a top hat made of wicker. He has a sort of Billy Connelly vibe to him. Anyway, rents are tripled, the farms are struggling, and he can only afford to tint half of his eyebrows. Times are rough, guys. Daphne thanks him for bringing it to their attention, and they will figure something out.

A little girl comes running and crying at Daphne, who promptly picks her up and cuddles her. The girl’s very pregnant mum waddles up and apologizes for her child being a child. She tries to bow, but Daphne stops her, saying she shouldn’t be stooping her her condition. Yeah, she can come back in a couple months and do it properly! Simon watches as Daphne cuddles the girl for a moment longer before putting her down awkwardly and walking away. She turns back to look at her as she goes. I’m sure this is nothing and will go nowhere.

Later, as they are walking through a field back to the Saphne-Plex, she mentions the farm thing again and he says he should have come back sooner. She brings up the girl and says she hopes he wasn’t too bummed seeing what an awesome mom she would be. She goes on to say she doesn’t think about all the endless emptiness of her future when she is around kids and is sure all of her siblings are going to reproduce like bunnies, so it’s fine if they don’t have a litter of their own. Simon says she will be a great aunt and that he’s thrilled that she’s happy with their life. Well, she has had over four days to make that decision. I’m sure this is nothing and will go nowhere.

Here comes the plinkly plunky music of wackiness that happens in every television show since the beginning of time. Oh, this scene is bound to be silly, you guys. Over at Feather-House, the fam is lined up at the base of the staircase, waiting on Marina. She sweeps down the stairs with the biggest hair I’ve ever seen. It is definitely full of secrets. Portia commands her to ‘swish’ (roll credits!) and Marina kinda shimmies in her dress, revealing just a hint of belly. Portia congratulates Marina on doing such a good job so far, but tonight they need to talk about having a swift wedding. Pen chuckles humorlessly and calls them idiots. Tricking Colin is easy, but tricking Violet will be harder. She was professionally pregnant for like 15 years straight. ‘Trust she knows when she’s being managed,’ Pen notes before smiling sweetly. Portia assesses Marina.

Then we are at dinner. The seating arrangement here is kinda fascinating, with Anthony next to Marina on one side and Portia next to Colin (see? She lurrrves him!) and Violet next to Pen. Violet is asking Marina what she liked to do on the farm she lived on before coming to the big city. Marina liked riding (heh heh) more than anything. Portia points out how proper Marina is and Pen gets this look like she would destroy everyone with her brain if she could. Violet asks Marina if she has traveled much, because Colin is very into travel. And flirting. And all kinds of other things that only happen off screen presumably. Portia suggests a globe-trotting honeymoon, and asks Anthony what he thinks. Anthony hates everything about this and doesn’t want to talk. Portia goes on saying a foreign honeymoon would be amazing and then directly addresses Colin to snap to it on the wedding thing and they could go right now and take advantage of what great weather they are having! Anthony pipes up that Colin’s very young and hasn’t figured out pomade yet, so she should slow her roll a bit. Colin brings up that Marina is very accomplished at needlework. Pen looks like she wants to murder him with said needle. Marina calls him a liar and then he makes a joke at Daphne’s expense that Portia laughs too hard at. Because she loves him. Pen saws through the table while aggressively cutting her meat.

Then we are in a room we have never seen before I think! Pip is at the piano and Pru is singing badly and she’s not even in tight pants to do it, so what is the point? Colin tries to smother a giggle as Anthony and Violet look on in various states of ‘what the fuck?’-ness. Colin gets up and leaves the room and Pen waits all of three seconds before she follows him. Subtle, Pen. It’s really a testament to how little attention everyone in her life gives her, because she is really not sneaky at all. Out in the hall, he’s headed toward the stairs, so I’m not exactly sure where he was going. Do they not have chamber pots on the main floor of this house? She calls out to him and he comes back to talk to her. We can still hear Prudence very clearly, I’m sorry to say. Pen starts by saying she needs to talk to him about something delicate and Colin asks if he has something on his face, which genuinely makes my husband laugh. She says she’s been trying to get him alone since the engagement was announced, and he astutely guesses that this is about Marina.

She immediately starts babbling about George and cake and getting lost between the moon and New York City. She says she thought he should know before it was too late. This two-shot of them is crazy, she looks literally half his size. He takes her hand and says ‘you really are very good, do you know that?’. Well, it could have been worse. He could have patted her head or scratched her behind the ear and given her a snausage. Her face falls. Colin doesn’t care that she got an ex, and he brings up again what a flirt he is. I’m being serious here: if anyone can remember examples of him flirting, can they let me know in the comments? I feel like I’m being very weirdly gaslit about this. Pen interjects that Marina still loves George, but Colin says that he and his intended understand each other. Given all of their deep discussions, this tracks. Marina comes out and Colin steps back from Pen and notes that Prudence’s singing sucks. Penelope looks like she is going to throw up. Marina says that Portia is looking for her daughter. Pen and Colin exchange a look before she goes back into the parlor. Marina stomps over to Colin and starts talking about how everyone hates her, even Saint Violet. Colin takes her hands and says he is her family now, and she says she wishes they could be married this very minute. She led that well-groomed horse right to water, will he drink? He will! He knows of a way they could be together right now! What a completely brilliant plan that he definitely came up with entirely on his own! She loves the idea. Interestingly, she says ‘I love you’ and he doesn’t say it back.

Daphne wakes up in bed alone and goes in search of Simon. She walks past the nursery and shuts the door before going down to his study. Simon is in the most amazing robe I’ve ever seen. I will refer to this as his Jeffries robe from now on, since he is wearing it while working. Daphne wants breakfast, but Simon no can do. The corn is not as high as an elephant’s eye and it’s all his fault. He says words like ‘livestock’ and ‘crop’. Daphne says she will be visiting some of his tenants and delivering gift baskets. Ah, the Michael Scott approach! I can’t wait until she rides her horse into a lake.

Rose and Daphne are picking lavender in the gardens when Frau Colson comes charging toward them, scolding her for…doing something I guess. Daphne says she’s got it under control and Frau Colson sarcastically asks if she’s going to collect the honey from the hives too. If Daphne knew where the beekeeper’s suit was, I bet she would at least give it a shot. Frau Colson says she needs to know what Daphne wants done to ensure it is done ‘properly’. Daphne and Rose have a back and forth about how the housekeeper hates everyone.

Then we are in the village, where Daphne is trying to give away her baskets, but nobody wants one. Did she not get the good turtles? Daphne asks if she is coming across as too snooty, and then there is the little screaming girl again. She runs at Daphne and hugs her. Aw. Daphne offers Still Very Pregnant Mum a basket, but SVPM can’t carry it along with everything else she has. Daphne immediately offers to walk with her. Guys, she’s seriously like a Princess. Daphne asks SVPM why everyone hates her. She is told it’s about the pigs. The winner gets the pork contract for the year. How did Simon not know that? He’s bad at being a Duke.

Back at the Saphne-Plex, Daphne comes in to see Simon’s desk being moved to the East Wing. Probably because the West Wing is forbidden. She asks what is wrong with the study, but he kinda blows her off. Frau Colson strides past her, but Daphne calls out to her. We cut to them having tea, and Daphne says she appreciates the older woman’s guidance. She can tell Simon kinda hates living in their house. Frau Colson explains that he grew up there without his parents, because his mom died and his dad was a shithead and moved to London. Daphne incorrectly guesses that he must have been so heartbroken by her death, and Frau Colson launches into to an exposition dump about how Poor Dead Sarah kept trying to have a baby long after doctors told her to stop, but the Douchke wanted an heir. She is babbling about courses and then says everyone blamed Poor Dead Sarah for being barren when it might have been the Douchke. Something finally clicks in Daphne’s brain, and she asks her housekeeper to elaborate. Frau Colson says that she told Poor Dead Sarah that a womb needs strong, healthy seed. I don’t know about you guys, but I could go a whole lifetime without having discussion about seed during snacktime.

Pen is sitting in a chair in her room. She’s pretending to be sick. Portia points out that she got a dinner invitation because of the engagement and flounces out. Cue Pen being sneaky around the house and finding a packed bag in Marina’s room. She then finds all of George’s letters and starts looking through them. Marina comes in some time later and Pen excitedly points out that the last letter is forged by Portia or Mrs. Varley. Marina blows her off and burns the letter. Pen demands to know why she has a bag packed and begs her not to go to elope. She screams at Marina that Colin is not simple and will realize the child is not his. Marina responds that he is good and would still take care of her and her baby.

‘But what of him? What of Colin!?’ Marina finally finally twigs to the fact that Pen is in love with her fiance and flatly calls her out on it. Penelope tries to deny it, but she is not even slightly believable. Marina says she knows so much more than Pen does, about Colin and everything else in the whole world. And now she goes full mask-off. Pen’s love is not requited, and Colin views her the same as Eloise or ‘even little Hyacinth’, but he seems Marina as a woman. And she needs to make difficult decisions, like lying to her husband about the paternity of her child. ‘Even if they hurt your feelings’. She’s still not quite getting it, is she? Penelope leaves her room without another word.

Over at the Saphne-Plex, Daphne comes into Simon’s new study in the East Wing and points out that it is late before hopping into his lap and as laments that he is bad at Duking. She asks why he stayed away, and he says he had business in London and then met her and yada yada yada. They kiss and then immediately proceed to sexing on the desk. Must have been all that poor farmer talk that got them so hot and bothered so fast I guess. He pulls out an (hopefully, depending on his aim) finishes in a handkerchief instead of all over his papers. Thank goodness, what would Jeffries say? He goes to clean up for dinner and Daphne stares at his discarded spunk catcher. Ew.

Cut to her striding into the servants quarters. She goes into Rose’s tiny, sad room and asks how a woman comes to be with child. Violet told her nothing. Um, not true. She told you about rain and bassett hounds.

We get a montage of Daphne staring off sadly into the middle distance then. At the dinner table, as she stares at a suckling pig. She ignores Simon when he crawls into bed. He wakes up the next morning and she’s gone. She’s delivery supplies to Wicker(Hat) Man from the fair, who thanks her and tells her everything is fixed now. Huzzah! She sends the carriage home so she can brood in the rain. Later, she stares at a portrait of Poor Dead Sarah and Simon comes in in his Jeffries robe. He leads her to the bedroom as we get I believe the only example of an actual song with lyrics in the history of this show. They proceed to get naked very quickly and climb onto the bed.

I’m going to not go into a ton of detail because this scene is icky to me in a lot of ways. They start going at it vigorously and then she rolls over and starts riding him. They both look very good naked. She proceeds to stay atop him as he finishes. And here’s the thing. She weighs 102 lbs soaking wet. Like this isn’t his fault, but he could have just shoved her off him. But still, she essentially rapes him here and it’s not a great look. After he finishes, she climbs off him wordlessly and he asks what she did to him. Oh, let’s phrase that differently, shall we?

She says she had hoped she wasn’t right and accuses him of lying and taking advantage of her. He argues that he told her he couldn’t give her children, and she yells back that cannot and will not are two different things. Point- Daph. He chose to lie to her. He says he didn’t lie and thought she understood. She says all she wanted was to be a mom, and he says he was ready to die rather than marry her. That’s not the best argument, Simon. She says she felt pity for him because he was never going to know the joy of fatherhood. ‘I never asked for your pity’, Simon says. ‘And I never asked for your betrayal!’ she replies. He starts to say that he loves her, but she is amped up now and tells him that you don’t lie to and humiliate the one you love. She points out that she doesn’t know anything, which he took advantage of, but she knows that ‘that!’ she says, pointing to the bed, is not love. She storms out of the room.

Dame Julie is back to tell us that all is fair in love and war. We get shots of the printers making Lady Whistledown. El is on a swing outside as Pen comes over sadly, and immediately starts sobbing. El runs to her and holds her.

The next morning, Whistledown is being delivered. We cut to Violet in her hangover robe in the front hall, reading the paper. Colin comes down the stairs with his bag and is wordlessly handed Whistledown. Dame Julie tells us that Marina has been pregnant this whole time. Marina comes down the stairs with her own suitcase, but finds Portia waiting for her. These mums get up early to read their gossip, huh? Julie goes on to tell us that many will think ‘ her actions beyond the pale’, as we get a lovely shot of Daphne on her back curled up in a ball, trying to get that semen to stick I guess. ‘Or perhaps she knows no shame’, Julie continues.

[cbk1000]

I had a very worrying conversation yesterday with a friend who works in community health regarding the immediate stop-orders on USAid and PEPFAR which is causing all kinds of chaos for them and their patients. The hospital I work for also sent out mass communication today saying basically that funds are being redirected to ensure the patients' ARV cycles aren't interupted (which would obviously have caused greater harm), but that the overall situation is being 'closely monitored' and that they'll release the results from impact assessments soon.

Surely sudden and complete mass withdrawal of funding for regimen drugs / treatment essentials without recourse should be considered an act of (at least attempted) genocide?

Yes, I was just reading about this the other day. That motherfucker stopped aid that was already allocated from going out, which is the height of cartoon villainhood. It's shitty enough to say, 'We're not sending any more funding, who cares if foreign babies die of malaria'; it reaches new levels of 'can't wait till all those Big Macs finally catch up with your arteries' to stop funding that we've already committed to. Also, you'd think even this admin could see the importance in working toward global AIDS epidemic control, but of course, AIDS is just the gay disease if you ask them, so who cares.

I want a journalist to put his feet to the fire and give him the statistics on how many millions of lives PEPFAR has saved and ask what possible benefit it could have for America to ensure vulnerable people die in other countries (including infants) with no warning for them or plans to help them transition to other sources of funding. He'll just poop his diaper and scream about how mean the media is to him, but voters need to be confronted over and over again with who they voted for. His actions will kill people, period. Some of his voters will just be like, 'Who cares; the people dying are foreign and probably brown', but some of them are fucking morons who voted for him because he said, 'economy bad; I will fix it immediately with my beautiful, perfect tariffs.'

Oh, and the plane crash that just happened in D.C., which is the worst commercial aviation accident on U.S. soil in 16 years--he blamed that on 'DEI' in a press conference instead of just giving his condolences to everyone who lost someone and saying investigations are underway. Straight to, 'A MINORITY must have done it!!!' before the bodies are even cold.

I can't even begin to articulate my absolute contempt for him as a human being, let alone a leader.

[sholiofic]

I've read a couple presumed-dead fics where Biggles is the presumed party, but I don't think I've seen one with the reverse dynamic of Biggles thinking EvS dead and coping (or rather, not as the case may be) until the sudden revelation/reunion- which seems like something that would fit your writerly wheelhouse

In my wheelhouse indeed. :D For a longer take on this idea, I also know of a couple of Sakhalin presumed dead AUs:

A Desperate Execution by Philomytha

But At What Price by me

...but there is absolutely NO bad time to write presumed dead.

--

The item came across Biggles's desk in a stack of other reports and files. It was his habit to come into the office early and read the stack of post, analysts' reports, and other items flagged for his attention over a cup of tea before the others got there. When Algy came in, however, it was to find him staring into space, the dregs of his tea going cold at his elbow.

"Something wrong?" Algy asked, taking his jacket off. Then, getting a better look at his cousin's face, he amended it with more concern. "Bad news?"

"What? Oh—no, nothing, I ..." Biggles jerked a little, as if coming back to himself. "A piece of international news that caught me by surprise, that's all." He shuffled the papers he had been looking at into a stack.

"Anything the rest of us should be worried about?"

"No—no, just ... a surprise," Biggles repeated, and as Algy continued to look at him with concern, Biggles hastily opened another file, almost at random.

He continued to be distracted all morning, occasionally missing the others' comments, staring uncomprehendingly rather than laughing at jokes. After a while, Algy went and sat on the edge of Biggles's desk, eyeing his oldest friend and disliking the pallor he saw, a drawn look that made him think uncomfortably of Biggles in wartime. "If you're feeling under the weather, go home. We have things in hand here."

"I'm perfectly well," Biggles said with a surliness that suggested to Algy he wasn't.

"Right," Algy said, hopping off the desk only to take Biggles by the elbow. "Time for lunch. Hold down the fort, lads."

"Wait a minute, we're hungry too!" Ginger protested.

"Get a takeaway then!" Algy said over his shoulder.

In the hallway, Biggles drew himself up stiffly, adjusted his jacket, and said, "You're behaving very strangely."

"I'm behaving strangely? You're either about to go down with a bout of malaria or you've just heard someone died -- oh God," Algy said in a very different tone, as Biggles looked away. "It is that, isn't it?"

He didn't say anything else, but he steered Biggles, not towards the main entrance, but down the back stair that led to a small courtyard with benches. A few people were having their lunches there. Algy walked to the end and sat Biggles on a bench.

"Now look," he said, sitting beside him. "If it's anyone I know, I won't thank you to stay quiet about it. I suppose it's something awful from the way you're acting—it's not old Wilks, is it?"

"No, you've the wrong idea entirely. I knew you'd—oh well, why not." Biggles sighed and reached into his pocket, and pulled out the sheet of typewritten paper he had been reading earlier. Algy hadn't even noticed him tucking it into his pocket, folded and folded again. Algy took it and opened it, noting as he did the softness of the folds that suggested it had already been opened and refolded more than once.

It was an analyst's report; he had become familiar with the dry tone of collated reports distilled from firsthand sources. This was a brief summary about mercenary operations in the North African desert involving cargo aircraft ... an Algerian police action leaving six dead ... the names of the deceased ...

"Ah," Algy said. He laid the paper down on his knee, unsure what to say.

"It shouldn't really be as much of a surprise as all that," Biggles said quietly. "I always knew—well, that I'd see that name on this sort of list someday. I simply felt that ..." He stopped abruptly, looked off into the distance for a minute, and then said, "He was capable of better things. That's all."

Algy rather doubted that, but sensed that now was not the time to say it. "Look," he said, handing back the paper. "D'you suppose there's a—a next of kin, or something?"

Biggles folded up the page with an odd sort of care, handling it gently as if the typewritten sheet of bond meant something to him. "I suppose there must be," he said, looking a little more focused and less pale and unhappy with something to do, as Algy had known he would. "Unless all his people were lost in the war—but no, there must be someone. And they might like to hear from someone who knew him. I'll ask Major Charles about it, that's a good idea, Algy."

Lunch was a bit funereal all the same, and Algy found himself lifting a glass in a toast. "I won't pretend that I liked him," he said. "But a lonely grave in the desert's a hard end, and—and I'm sorry for it." He was a little surprised to find that he meant it, and Biggles smiled a little, the first smile all morning, and clinked glasses.

They ordered takeaway sandwiches for the others and returned to the office. As they came in, Ginger called, "A fellow from the Air Commodore's office was in and left you something, Biggles. Eyes only. Do we have a case or not?"

Biggles strode over to his desk, one hand in his pocket. He swiped up the folded slip from his desktop, opened it, and read it. Algy was close enough to see the swift flash of delight that crossed his face, all the animation that had been absent for the entire morning returning in a rush.

"Oh, it's nothing much," he said casually, and tucked it in his pocket beside the other.

Algy took the opportunity later that afternoon to slip off to the coat room during a quick trip to the loo, and was very much unsurprised by the contents of the slip.

Earlier report from Algiers in error. Five casualties, not six.

Algy replaced it carefully; he supposed it was likely to end up into some box of souvenirs in Biggles' room. So, he thought, not the end of an era after all. But after seeing Biggles that morning—quiet and dull, as if the best part of his bright energy had gone out of him—Algy discovered that he couldn't find it in himself to be too upset about it.

[she-wolf09231982]

Chapter 3- The Letter

Summary: The US Navy had fled allowing the Japanese control of the sea, leaving the marines to fight the battle for Guadalcanal alone. They were vastly undersupplied, and many were on the verge of starvation and some at the mercy of malaria. As thousands of Japanese reinforcements poured onto the island, Kate, Blanche, and the boys were strafed and bombed relentlessly. It was during these harsh times Kate found herself becoming closer to the guys and in a constant state of worry when Hoosier isn't where she could hear or see him. 

A/N: Mature audience, BillHoosierSmithx!FemMedic, WW2, OC/Kate Danaher, Female Pronouns, Cursing/Swearing, Derogatory Slurs, Womanizing Comments, Military and Medical Terminology, Inappropriate Nicknames, HBO The Pacific References, Mentions/Descriptions of Death, Blood, Weaponry, Smoking, 💚Very small Band of Brothers cameo quote…if you blink you might miss it💚

Story takes place Episode 2 Basilone Chapters 1-5

*These stories may not fall entirely in accordance with the TV series timeline. I do not know the real Marines the actors portray in this series, so please understand I show no disrespect. Some or most of historical events and character interactions in my fanfics are fabricated purely for the sake of the enjoyment of fiction* 

~~~~~~~ 

Guadalcanal 

September 1942 

“What’s wrong with him?” Sgt Stone asked Kate while she kneeled over a young marine. 

She had been holding a thermometer to the man’s mouth, and when she removed it, it read 105. 

“His temp is 105. He’s clammy and sweating bullets but says he feels cold-has to be malaria, sarge.” Kate finalized with a frown. 

Sgt Stone shook his head, “He’s the fifth marine to catch this shit.” 

“He won’t survive here if he stays. I don’t have anything to treat him with since that cruiser sank with all the supplies we needed.”  

Sgt Stone nodded, “I’ll try to arrange for transport if it’s available. We’re pretty much on our own out here.” 

Kate nodded, “I’ll do what I can for him, sir.”  

~~~~~~~ 

H Company was due to push forward the following day upon hearing D Company making contact with the enemy some 15 miles ahead. The men were instructed to police their gear to be ready by 0500 the next morning for the convoy. Around sunset, Hoosier scavenged beyond the camp for anything palatable to bring back to his buddies and himself for dinner. 

Leckie, Runner, Chuckler, Sid, and Gibson sat in a 7’ by 8’ foxhole they had dug for all of them to fit in. 

As darkness engulfed the island and thunder rolled through, Hoosier returned with chow. 

“Supper’s on, supper’s on.” he announced as he jumped into the hole. 

“Anything good?” Gibson asked hopefully. 

“What are those?” Runner asked skeptically. 

“Army rations from 1918. Quartermaster at Dog Company claims they’re edible-” Hoosier began as he handed each of them a small, unmarked package of food. 

He noticed the look of disgust stretching across each of their faces as they tried biting into the stale hard-tack crackers that were stiff enough to crack their teeth. 

“-after you suck on them for about an hour or two.” Hoosier added. 

“This is all you could find?” Chuckler asked. 

“You fuckin’ forage next time.” Hoosier spat back. 

They all begrudgingly continued to eat. 

Kate appeared kneeling over the edge of their foxhole. 

“Hey, guys. Just making rounds. Everyone doin’ ok?” she asked. 

“Yeah, just havin’ some dinner while Leckie reads us his letter to his girl back home.” Runner replied playfully. 

“Who said I was writing to anyone?” Leckie retorted. 

“Come on, you can tell us. Go on, read it.” Chuckler pushed. 

“We’d do it for you.” Runner added. 

“Guys, leave him alone.” Kate chuckled, knowing it was all in good fun. 

Leckie shook his head and returned to writing on his pad of paper. 

“So, you guys are ok, then?” Kate reiterated. 

They collectively responded, “yeah yeah,” knowing she’d keep on them until they answered her. 

“Ok, good. Make sure you keep hydrating, too. See you guys later.” she reminded them before standing and walking off. 

“Speaking of girls; how’s that bet going Hoosier?” Runner asked. 

“I’d say I’m in the lead.” he stated assertively. 

“That’s because I’m giving you a head start! She won’t be able to resist me once I’ve unleashed my charm on her.” Chuckler countered. 

“Yeah, and he’s a Corporal now! The ladies love rank.” Runner pointed out. 

Hoosier scoffed, “Yeah? Well, I don’t think she’s that type of girl. She’s not impressed by the number of stripes on a marine’s sleeves.” 

“How would you know?” Chuckler asked. 

“I had a little visit with her yesterday. Sat and talked to her for about two hours sipping on that shit Jap wine that we had left.” Hoosier revealed. 

They all stared at him waiting for him to continue, but he remained silent knowing the anticipation was killing them. 

“And!?” Leckie prompted. 

“And she told me she was only here to do her part for her country by keeping us alive. No matter what I said or did to “charm” her, she went right back into talkin’ about medical mumbo-jumbo or about her two brothers in the 101st airborne,” he paused, “she’s actually real smart.” Hoosier explained. 

“Well, maybe you just don’t got it like I do.” Chuckler returned. 

Hoosier laughed, “Have it at, pal, I’m tellin’ ya, she’s a tough cookie to crumble. She doesn’t melt over the same things most dames do. You’ll have your work cut out for you.”  

“We’ll see!” Chuckler shot back confidently. 

~~~~~~~ 

By midafternoon the next day, H Company caught up with D Company, setting up outlook posts about a mile away in case the enemy approached. With an entire battalion in the same area, a proper aid station was available with tables and cots to tend to the wounded and sick. There was also a chow tent serving hot meals which none of the men have seen in weeks. 

Hoosier, Leckie, Chuckler, and Runner sat in a semi-circle with their plates of hot rice. 

“I hear the army finally landed.” Leckie shared. 

“Nice of them to join the party.” Runner stated sarcastically. 

“They have no idea what they’re walking into.” Chuckler added. 

“Yeah, well word is they came with loads of crates filled with some good shit.” Hoosier voiced. 

“Oh yeah?” Leckie asked, his interest piqued. 

“Maybe we can get at some of that!” Chuckler suggested. 

“If you do, see if you can get some clean bandages, and some morphine. And get me some goddam scissors, I can’t get any.” Kate requested as she walked past the group after hearing them scheming about the army supply delivery. 

“Yes, ma’am!” Chuckler confirmed enthusiastically as he shot a cheeky grin at Hoosier. 

Hoosier released an exasperated sigh as he rolled his eyes at him, 

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot, Juergens.” 

~~~~~~~ 

As the Army staged the dozens of wooden crates and drawstring laundry bags on the beach, an air raid siren sounded off alerting the men of an enemy attack. The newcomer soldiers, unaware that the siren was signifying the attack on the airfield and not the beach, started running for cover leaving the boxes and bags unattended and up for grabs.

The marines waiting in the brush of the jungle like predators waiting to pounce, watched as the last few soldiers disappeared before they took advantage of the situation. 

Platoons of marines scattered out of the tree line like roaches, breaking open boxes and foot lockers, and dumping bags to grab what they could before the army came back. 

Hoosier found a good-sized crate with a red cross insignia painted on it.  

“Has to be scissors in here.” he thought outloud to himself. 

He looked around and found a crowbar lying on the ground. Snatching it up, he got to work on opening the box. As he removed the final nail, he pushed the cover off revealing an assortment of medical supplies to include cases of morphine and first aid kits.  

Hoosier scanned the area around him, “Hey Runner! Come here!”  

Runner trotted over to him and looked into the box, “Nice, you found the medic supply.” 

“Help me grab a few of these, will ya?” Hoosier asked as he handed him a couple cases of morphine.  

“Why don’t you ask Chuckler?” Runner teased as he tucked the box under is arm. 

Hoosier laughed, “You snooze, you lose.”  

Runner snickered as he grasped the handles of three syrette cans in his right hand while slinging a sack filled with tactically acquired treasures over his left shoulder. 

Leckie ran over, “Here! Throw some of those in the bag so we can carry more back.”  

He presented a large empty duffel bag for Hoosier to throw more syrette cases and first aid kits in. 

“Perfect.” Hoosier commended. 

As he tossed as many as he could into the bag, the army rushed back shooing the marines away. The marines took off running towards their camp, each cackling triumphantly at the soldiers behind them. 

~~~~~~~ 

After the excitement settled down, Hoosier, Chuckler, Sid, Gibson and Runner sat in a more secluded area of camp shifting through the prizes they obtained. Leckie sauntered up while carrying his drawstring bag of goods, sporting his new pair of moccasin slippers to the foxhole as a campfire kindled.

“Anything happen while I was prospecting?” Leckie asked the group outloud. 

“Betty Hutton stopped by giving out blowjobs,” Hoosier replied, “What’d you get?” 

Leckie took a seat on the log and showed off the items he got. While he was handing out cans of peaches to the guys, Kate approached them. 

“Hey, guys, did you hear that the army was looted during the air raid earlier toda-”

She stopped a few feet behind Hoosier as Chuckler was waving a can of peaches at Runner who had been sitting by the tree line with his pants down dealing with a bad case of diarrhea. 

“Peaches? I’ve got the goddam runs, and you had to get peaches.” Runner hissed at Leckie. 

“They were all out of cheese, Runner.” Leckie called back. 

The puzzle pieces started to come together as she looked over the scene in front of her. She noticed Leckie with a pair of comfy patent leather house shoes on, the multiple cans of fruit, and the brand-new M-1 rifles next to each man where they sat. She watched as Leckie excitedly carved an opening in his can, eager to eat the peaches and drink the nectar inside. 

“Uh, Bob, you’ll wanna take that slowly,” she cautioned, “you haven’t had real food for weeks, you might-” 

“I’ll be fine, Ace.” Leckie insisted cutting her off. 

Not at all heeding her warning, he inhaled the peaches and sugary liquid from his can. He slowly lowered it looking suddenly alarmed and pale, apparently regretting his hasty decision. He began gagging as he rushed over not too far from where Runner was and vomited the peaches he just consumed onto the grass in front of him. 

Runner laughed at Leckie, pleased and entertained by his misery. 

“Ugh, I told you, Leckie.” Kate pointed out with her hands on her hips shaking her head at him. 

The others sniggered as they slowly ate from their cans so as not to end up like Leckie. 

“Well, I was going to ask if you guys heard the air raid siren earlier, but I assume you did.” she continued as she crossed her arms in a motherly fashion. 

The guys responded with a collective, “Mmhm.” 

She waited, her lips pursed together as she scanned each of them with skepticism to see if they’d own up to what they had been doing during the air raid. They remained quiet, hanging their heads as they avoided eye contact with her while eating their peaches. She already knew, though. She just wanted to see if they’d confess without her outright asking them. She shook her head again, deciding it best to let it go. 

“Hey, Ace-” Runner called out to Kate, “my ass is killing me, can’t you do anything about this??” he begged. 

“Is there blood?” Kate asked invasively outloud in front of the guys. 

Runner’s eyebrows creased together inquisitively, “Huh?” 

Kate huffed irritably and walked closer to Runner, “Is there blood in your stool?” she clarified, speaking slowly. The others groaned in disgust, each placing their cans down. 

“Um-” Runner looked over his shoulder, “-no.”  

“Ok, good,” she stated as she turned on her heel to walk back, “When you’re finished relieving yourself over there, come see me. The nurses over at Dog Company gave me a case of sodium solution that can help that.”   

Kate walked past the group, “Enjoy your haul, you hooligans.” she said with a playful smile, winking at Hoosier as they made eye contact when she passed. 

Leckie slumped back onto the ground across from Hoosier, “When are you giving her the morphine and shit?”  

“Tonight.” Hoosier affirmed. 

“No way! You found her some morphine? What about bandages? And scissors!? How!?” Chuckler asked genuinely befuddled when Hoosier nodded. 

“Simple, I looked for it.” Hoosier responded smugly as he leaned back on his elbows. 

The guys laughed as Chuckler grimaced, resentfully drinking more juice from his can. 

~~~~~~~ 

That night as Hoosier was preparing the aid kits and morphine to bring to Kate and Blanche, fire clouds exploded in the distance and were steadily progressing closer towards them. Japanese aircraft’s were heading towards them dropping bombshells in their wake.

Whatever man wasn’t under the safety of cover dove into the nearest foxhole they could get to.

Enemy aircrafts soared over H and D Company posts, relentlessly deploying one bomb after the other as they passed. Multiple men shouting to take cover, and some crying out in fear, there was nothing they could do other than wait it out. 

The following morning, every marine across the camp that wasn’t injured or stuck beneath the sand was either digging to find survivors that were buried alive or carrying the wounded to the medical personnel. The entire site was in shambles with Jeeps destroyed and burned to a crisp while fallen palm trees lay across where the men’s foxholes were, trapping marines' underneath. 

The hustle and bustle of the aid station was never ending. Kate and Blanche along with a few Dog Company medics and a couple of nurses scampered from one man to another trying to keep them alive while able marines brought more wounded on stretchers. 

“Put him on that table there!” Kate directed to the men who brought another marine with a wound to his right leg. 

Kate rushed over, “What do we got?”  

“Right thigh wound. He said shrapnel impaled him after one of the explosions went off right by him when he was running for cover.” one of the men explained quickly. 

Kate tore through the pantleg to get to the wound. She knew right away by the saturation of the blood that the artery was severed. 

“Blanche! Bring me gauze, sulfur and bandages! I need to pack this, NOW!” Kate yelled across the floor. 

Blanche hurried over with what Kate needed, unraveling the long bandage and opening a bottle of sulfur to clot the wound. Kate balled up the end of the dressing, pushing it down deep into the gash packing it as tight as she could. The man shrieked and bawled, kicking and grabbing at Kate to escape the torture. 

“Jesus, hold him down! I can’t do this if he’s moving around like that!” Kate bellowed. 

The two men that brought him in pinned him down by his arms while Blanche secured his legs by his ankles. Kate layered the bandage hard into his wound, then when she couldn’t fit anymore, she placed a padded bandage over the top wrapping the ends snug around the thigh tying it down to maintain pressure. The bleeding had finally stopped. 

Kate took a syrette and injected it into the meatier part of the marine’s shoulder. 

“Take him over there where the rest of ‘em are.” Kate panted as she weakly motioned over to the treated casualties, recovering in the shade of a hanging tarp. 

“You doing ok, Kate?” Blanche asked. 

Kate nodded, “Did you see Sid?”  

“No, thank goodness,” Blanche breathily replied, “What about Hoosier?”  

Kate looked at her shocked, “Well, no. But I haven’t seen Leckie, Chuckler, Gibson, or Runner either.” she added.  

Blanche raised an eyebrow at her best friend, “Honey, I know you fancy the man. You don’t have to hide it from me.” 

“I don’t know what you’re-” 

“Ssshhh...” Blanche shushed Kate placing her fore finger over Kate’s lips, “your secret is safe with me.” 

 Kate scoffed at her then rolled her eyes, “We got more work to do.”  

She turned around and made herself busy with the next injured marine. 

~~~~~~~ 

Kate sat alone behind the rickety medic shelter, taking a minute to let her brain rest by closing her eyes and humming a tune quietly to herself. The hum of her voice slowly became words as she sang the song softly outloud.  

“There you are.” Hoosier’s voice came crashing through Kate’s tranquil thoughts. 

Kate gasped as her heart and body jumped from surprise. 

“Bill, you have GOT to stop sneaking up on me like that!” she told him clutching the front of her uniform. 

Hoosier chuckled, “I am sorry, I really don’t mean to.”  

Kate released a long exhale, “Glad to see you’re ok, though.” she admitted looking up at him through her eyelashes as he stood over her. 

“You, too.” he returned. 

Kate blushed, smiling weakly as she looked down at her lap. She looked behind him and noticed a dog sniffing around.

"Looks like you got yourself a new friend." she acknowledged.

Hoosier looked over his shoulder, "Yeah, after all the bombings last night this little fella slipped into our foxhole, so I grabbed him. Hasn't left my side since." he explained.

The dog looked up at him as if he knew Hoosier was talking about him.

"He's adorable." Kate cooed.

“I have something for you.” Hoosier declared. 

“For me?”  

“Yep. But you need to close your eyes.” he instructed. 

Kate narrowed her eyes in suspicion, “Why?”  

“Trust me.” he insisted grinning proudly. 

Kate clicked her tongue at him but closed her eyes as he requested. 

“Hold out your hand.” 

She presented her hand palm up in front of her.

"Stay." she heard him command to the dog.

She felt his calloused palm gently slip under hers. His surprisingly tender touch sent electrical currents up her arm and through the rest of her body. She almost wasn’t able to contain her shudder. 

Just then, she felt a hard slender object placed on her palm as he slowly removed his hand from under hers. 

“Ok, you can look now.” Hoosier told her. 

Kate opened her eyes, face to face with Hoosier kneeling right in front of her, his eyes as blue as the water behind him. She looked down at her hand to find a pair of scissors.  

Kate’s eyes widened with excitement as she smiled at him. 

“You got me scissors!” she squealed throwing her arms around his neck pulling him into a hug. 

Hoosier chuckled as he loosely embraced Kate around her torso, “Yeah, I found a crate full of first aid kits and morphine and grabbed you a whole bunch of ‘em.” 

Kate leaned back looking at him in disbelief, “You did?” 

Hoosier nodded, “Leckie and Runner helped, too so we could get as much for you as we could. I brought them over and left them by the aid station for you. There are at least a dozen scissors over there so you’ll never run out of them again.”  

Kate’s heart almost rocketed out of her chest.

“You didn’t get anything for yourself while you were out there?”

“Nah, I don’t need much.” he dismissed.

She beamed adoringly at him and pulled him back for another hug. 

“You missed your chance to get something for yourself to get me what I needed? Thank you.” she whispered to him.

He squeezed her tighter, “Of course.” he purred back. 

They pulled away slowly, still smiling at eachother. Kate patted Hoosier’s shoulder before standing up. 

“I’m going to go take a look at those kits before anyone tries to get their mitts on them.” Kate proclaimed as she headed towards the casualty collection point. 

Hoosier fixated on Kate as she walked away. He was lost in a daydream relishing the feeling of her pinned against him when they hugged. It was the closest feeling to home he’s felt since he got to Guadalcanal. 

Kate stopped and turned to Hoosier, “You comin’?”  

Hoosier snapped out of his trance and clumsily scurried over to join her for the walk back to the aid station. 

~~~~~~~ 

As D and H Company fixed up the camp as best they could, they returned to foxholes to keep watch of the line. Col Puller (known as ‘Chesty’ to the marines) disclosed intelligence that the enemy was going to try to take Matanikau which was south of the airfield where the Americans currently had control. Most of the battalion was to join the 5th and 1st marines there to help defend the coast road into the airfield to maintain that control. This meant that Dog Company would be entirely alone on the front lines as they relocate to sector 3 of the island. H Company had their own orders. 

Hoosier and Runner were tasked to set up a listening and observation post 30 yards inside the treeline. While they were gathering their weapons and gear, Kate walked up with two ammo cans in her hand. A look of concern appeared across her face when she saw a tired rough looking Hoosier with his dog and Runner packing up gear behind him. 

“Where you two going?” she asked. 

“We’re settin’ up a little less than a mile that way along the perimeter.” Runner replied pointing in the direction they were going to be heading. 

“Oh?” Kate queried. 

“Yeah, the Japs decided to go around us to hit the airfield. We got the first watch for two hours at sunset.” Hoosier explained. 

Kate looked down at her boots inadvertently kicking at the sand, “I see.” 

Hoosier stopped what he was doing to look her over and noticed what she had been holding. 

“Whatchya got there, Ace?” he asked gesturing with his head at the small metal boxes. 

Kate’s breath hitched in her throat as she looked up at Hoosier, “Oh-” she looked back down at the cans perplexed like they just appeared in her hands, “-it’s for you guys. I figured you’d need these more than me and Blanche.”  

She walked closer to Runner and Hoosier handing them each a container. Runner opened the can and saw stacks of crackers neatly packed to the brim. Hoosier looked into Runner’s can, then beamed back at Kate. 

“I heard you guys traded your saltines for the peaches and figured once you ran out of fruit you’d need more rations in the field. Good thing I caught you before you two took off.” she remarked. 

“You’re giving us your food?” Runner asked utterly surprised while Hoosier gaped at her. 

Kate’s eyebrows drew in together, “Of course. Someone’s gotta take care of you boys.”  

Kate averted her eyes to Hoosier.  She blushed seeing he had been gazing at her the whole time, his lazy smile and droopy blue eyes, ready to worship the ground she walked on.  

“We’re so lucky to have you.” Hoosier muttered. 

“Yeah, thanks, Ace!” Runner said as he ascended into the cubby hole shelter they all built to share the fresh crackers with the rest of the group. 

“Anytime, Runner!” Kate called out. 

Hoosier, still smiling, walked towards Kate, leaving very little room between them when he reached her. Kate hiccupped when he stood inches from her, looking up at him with her sparkling green eyes. 

“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” he asserted. 

Kate grinned, “I know. You guys would do the same for me and Blanche.”  

Hoosier’s smile widened, “Absolutely.”  

“I have one other thing,” Kate stated as she dug into her dungaree pocket, “-here.” 

She held a sealed envelope with the name ‘Bill’ written in cursive on the front. He took it from her and as he looked it over, he realized he didn’t recognize the handwriting.  

He looked back at her, “Who’s this from?”  

Kate laughed, “Me, silly!”  

A smile returned to his face, “But why?” 

“Well, I heard you saying something about Leckie having a girl back home to send letters to and that you didn’t. So, I wrote you one.” Kate explained. 

Hoosier’s heart melted, practically becoming a puddle at his feet. He looked back at the letter smiling so hard his cheeks started to ache. 

“Well, thank you Kate Danaher. That’s about the nicest thing that any broad has ever done for me.” he admitted. 

“Glad to hear it. Oh, and you should wait to read it when you’re feeling crummy during one of your watches. It’ll cheer you up.” she insisted. 

“What if I want to read it now?” Hoosier asked with a mischievous smile. 

Kate laughed, “Defeats the purpose of me writing it for you! It’ll be worth the wait, cross my heart!” she promised as she drew a crisscross over her chest with her fingers. "-And when you do read it, you'll have to write me back. Those are the rules."

Hoosier was absolutely mesmerized by her childlike innocence. 

“Ok, I’ll save it.” he pledged placing the letter in the breast pocket of his uniform. 

Kate standing on her tiptoes snaked her arms over his shoulders pulling him into a hug as his arms instinctively embraced her pulling her flush against him.

“Please be careful. Both of you.” Kate whispered. 

Hoosier’s heart pounding against his ribcage had his chest heaving as his strong hands kneaded Kate’s upper back. He nodded, agreeing to her request. 

“Promise?” Kate implored. 

“I swear it.” Hoosier reassured; his voice low and calm like a song to Kate’s ears. 

~~~~~~~ 

[jeannereames]

It's said Alexander fell sick & almost died after bathing in the ice cold Cydnus river on a very hot day.

What exactly happened to him? Did he catch a cold? Was it pneumonia? Or anything else?

I find no clear explanation anywhere.

What do you think might have happened that made a young, healthy & strong guy like Alexander so sick?

Alexander at the Cydnus River

We don't know.

At a guess, at last hypothermia would have been a problem. He was over-heated and jumped into super-cold water. That is not a good combination no matter how tough you are. But hypothermia doesn't cause a fever; it's a form of shock. So he may have been sick with something else--the beginnings of a fever, which just made him feel hotter.

That could have been malaria, judging from his symptoms, given that ancient Macedonia was rife with malaria, so most people raised there were probably carriers. It can flare up again. Malaria or typhoid are also the most likely culprits in what killed him, years later.

The problem is that the ancients didn't understand the causes of disease, so trying to guess what afflicted people can be tricky for two reasons:

The symptoms listed may not help much being attributed to an imbalance in "humors," PLUS

Disease is sometimes used in the sources to indicate MORAL decline (most famously with Sula and Herod). Ergo, the description of symptoms is suspect. Herod was supposedly killed by being eaten from within by worms. Yes, that can be a disease...but the meaning in his case was that the worms represented his moral decay.

I don't think #2 is a problem in this particular case. I think they simply assumed that the super cold water caused the illness. As noted, I'm sure it didn't *help*, but it's not what gave him the serious fever.

[doctor-rosch]

Rosch? I think it's time we discussed how we're going to handle your employment going forward.

I'm very thankful for your efforts, and consider you to be an excellent lab partner. Your ability to resurrect yourself has been incredibly handy, and has enabled me to test my little projects without the hassle of getting new test subjects. Thank you.

However, the recent issue with your arms has been... concerning. I initially believed that these deaths were a way for you to figure out how to finally rest after having the natural cycle of life stripped away from you. But now, I have reason to believe that you're using this cycle of death and resurrection to deliberately harm yourself.

I suggest that you take a period of extended leave, and use this time to figure out what you want to do next. I'll still be paying you, of course - think of it as a gift, for helping me so much.

...

...While I'm thankful for your help with my research, I don't... I don't like watching you deliberately harm yourself in this way.

What..? No no no, no, Igma, no!

Are you firing me?? This is firing me! Paid extended lea-?? What even is that?? You want me to take some hoity-toity vacation and sit around and NOT kill myself?? What would that even look like!

Unbelievable. The arm thing I did was just a goof! A gag! You like jokes, don’t you? Well- look at me! Ha! Woopie! Fun! Fun times, Igma! Don’t worry about it.

And even if I was being serious with that cold turkey thing- should I really be punished for trying? In what twisted world should we crack down on a poor man for trying! So I slip up a little- SO WHAT? And now there’s consequences?? There doesn’t HAVE to be! Take them away!

You knew about the harming thing WAAY before, Igma, nothing changed! What? You think blowing your brains out is gonna be pretty? Hate to break it to you, Igma but this is a bloody business. That’s just it. BUSINESS. Just one tick closer to my salvation! No self harm mumbo jumbo here! Nope! Not me! I never give myself the time of day- you really think I would go out of my way to hurt that guy? NO!

And you said it yourself! I’m USEFUL! Right? Who else can do what I do? NO ONE. Don’t you want to see some rabies up close again? Some malaria? What about a really fun one where I bleed from every orifice- I know you’ve got a nasty one saved up you’ve always wanted to try! Don’t hold back now! I’ll be right there! Good? Good!

See you soon, lab partner!

[ohkate]

Weekly Tag Wednesday Thursday

Thank you for the tags, @smittybus22!

Name: Kate

Location: Massachusetts

Age: 45

Are you sick right now with a cold, flu, or other non-life-threatening but deeply obnoxious illness? I feel like I’m always a little sick. Allergies keep me in a constant state of mild suffering—it’s a never-ending battle.

When you're sick, are you a get-up-and-just-work-through-it kind of person or a lie-in-bed-and-moan-loudly-and-not-move kind of person? I push through it because I have to. But I'm not the moaning or groaning type. It’s just not in my nature. Even when I’m scared, I’m more of a What the fuck?! than a screamer.

What's your ultimate comfort drink when you're under the weather? There’s something about Sprite that makes me feel better.

Are there any superstitions or things you do that you believe will make you get better faster? Absolutely not. I have zero patience for superstitions or “magical” remedies. If I ever walked into a doctor’s office and saw a sign with something like, The Healing Power of the Crystal, I’d turn around and run.

Do you take vitamin C or any other herbal remedies, or do you think that's all non-scientific nonsense? Until recently, I was drinking about ten cans of Coke a day. Then I realized I hadn't had an actual glass of water in about six months. So I quit soda cold turkey in November and now I only drink water. I take magnesium because I was told it helps with leg cramps, but honestly, I think just hydrating like a functional human will do more for me than anything else. Vitamins are not FDA regulated and there's no proof of their efficacy. In fact, there are more people overdosing on certain vitamins because they take too many that they don't need. A kid I knew overdosed on niacin because he read somewhere taking a huge amount would help with weight loss.

When you were young and got to stay home from school, what was your favorite show to watch (or thing to do)? My parents were very much go to school even if you're on your deathbed people, and back then, schools didn’t care about sick kids infecting others. You could have malaria, and they'd still keep you there. The nurse would just let you nap on that stiff vinyl bench in her office and then call your mom to pick you up a half-hour before school let out.

As an adult, I actually take my sick time. I usually binge-watch TV shows, curl up in bed with a bottle of PainQuil, and freebase nose spray.

Is there a secret favorite part you have to being sick? I’d cut my own legs off if it meant I could stay home from work. The only reason I haven’t is because unemployment and disability don’t pay enough to cover rent. But I also like having an excuse to do nothing. I consistently feel anxiety and guilt if I don't take advantage of time off, so being sick is an excuse to rest.

Worst part about being sick? Being alone. There’s no one to say, Go lay down, you need to rest. No one checking in, bringing me soup, or making sure I’m hydrated. No sympathetic understanding. I still have responsibilities—feeding and taking care of the pets, answering the door, shuffling outside to move my car when it snows. If I have to drag myself out into the cold to clean off my car while trying not to pass out or throw up, well…that’s just how it is.

There’s no comfort from another person, and that’s what makes it hard.

Who do you think would be the worst patient? Ian or Mickey? Mickey would be annoyed by being sick, but he’d deal with it. He’s taken care of himself his whole life, so he’d suck it up and go to the doctor or grab medicine if he needed to. Seeing him floss really changed my perspective on how seriously he takes self-care.

Ian, though? He’d be the worse patient. He’s the type to not want to “bother” anyone, which means he’d insist he’s fine until he was actively bleeding out. That kind of stubbornness is exhausting. Anyone who’s ever taken care of a sick parent or elderly relative knows what I mean—just let people help you! The more you refuse, the harder you make it for everyone.

Tagging (or just saying hi!) to my most recent commenters/likers: @dreamjupiter @abigailspinach @annisefreya