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indigosunsetao3 · 3 months

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Sick Day

It's inevitable, we all get sick. How do the COD men help you through it?

Gender neutral reader perspective 18+ Fluff

Warning: Illness, vomiting (in Alex's only)

Alex - TW vomiting

You've been on the bathroom floor for who knew how long. Your knees are screaming in pain to get up but you know the moment you try to go to bed you'll get sick again. It had been like this since you woke up around 2am feeling that telltale sign in your stomach and the watering in your mouth. It must have been something you ate you think as you gasp and lean back against the tub, trying not to think of dinner the night before.

"Hey, it's me," comes a gentle voice from the other side of the door and you crack open an eye. You had asked Alex to pick up a few things from the store, you needed to try and get some electrolytes down. He had been texting you all morning to check in asking if there was anything he could do and you finally caved after finding nothing useful in the fridge.

"You can just leave it outside the door," you answer quietly, your voice a little ragged from getting sick so often. Your throat is sore and your abs hurt from just the exertion. "It's a disaster in here," you joke before your stomach heaves. Fuck. You scramble quickly for the toilet, amazed that there was anything left.

The door swings open and you gasp out for him to get out. You definitely do not want him to see you like this, a sweaty flushed mess as you gag. You groan and rest your head on the seat as a bag rustles and you feel him press a bottle of Gatorade in your hand as he pushes some hair off your sweaty neck. "Drink," he says simply, a soft order but an order nonetheless. He's already broken the seal for you and you smile a bit as you take the cap off.

"Really you don't have to be in here," you say as you sit up and take a sip of the blue liquid. "It's really gross in here and I don't want you to get sick if it's a bug," you try as you press the cool bottle to your forehead almost groaning at how nice it feels.

He's at the sink running water before he crouches down the moves to sit behind you. It's a tight fit, his legs too long to be comfortable but he adjusts making it work.

"I don't have to do anything," he replies as he gently places a cool rag on your neck. It's cold enough to send a shiver down your spine but it feels nice. "But I want to," he finishes before gently pulling you toward him.

You go without much resistance, not having the strength to really fight. He pulls you up against his chest and gently leans your head back onto his shoulder, placing another cool towel on your forehead. He really is much more comfortable than leaning against the tub and you sigh contently.

"Keep drinking," he says gently nudging your hand. "I'll stay with you until you feel well enough to go back to bed." He adjusts a bit, the bathroom cabinet creaking behind him before he softly rubs your arms and kisses the back of your sticky neck. "I've got nowhere else to be," he adds sensing you're going to protest.

Sometime later you wake up in bed with the vague memory of Alex helping you up off the bathroom floor, out of your dirty clothes and into his clean shirt. The worst of the sickness seems to have passed, and now it was just exhaustion wearing on you. There's a fresh bottle of Gatorade on the nightstand along with some bright yellow flowers. You can faintly smell cleaner where Alex has sanitized the whole bathroom for you.

Gaz

"You're sick too," you protest as Gaz sniffs from his side of the bed. You had visited his family and his youngest niece had a cold, when did she not have a cold being a toddler, and she seemed to have shared it with both of you.

"I can go to the store," he reasons before sneezing three times then leaning his head back against the headboard with an annoyed groan.

"Oh yes, because people are going to be delighted to have you sneezing and coughing all over the produce," you tease before coughing yourself and covering your mouth with the hem of your shirt.

"I'll wear a mask," he shoots back before coughing and rubbing at his temples. Each cough seemed like daggers to his head and he had been burrowed under the pillows because even the sunlight hurt his eyes. He would never admit that he was weak because it was his job to take care of you, damn it.

"We can just order take away," you fight back as you grab at him to drag him back to lay with you. "We can do that ramen place you like," you try as a lure. You don't want him to go to the store because you'd feel guilty just sitting there. But most of all you don't want him to leave the bed. Despite being miserable because you were both sick you had secretly been enjoying all the extra cuddle time with him.

"Ramen and I want boba," he mutters as you tug on the sleeve of his shoulder. He falls willingly to the side toward you, flopping over on your pillows as he stares pitifully up at you. His eyes are a bit red from all the sneezing and he sniffs again as he rubs at one of them.

"Ramen and boba," you agree before leaning down to kiss his forehead before snuggling up against him. "But you have to order," you mutter into his chest as you nuzzle in his shirt. "You're too picky," you tease as you feel him reach toward the nightstand for his phone.

"I'm not picky, I just know what I like," he answers as he gently rubs at your back with one hand, the other already scrolling through the delivery menu.

"I want..." you started but he turns the phone toward you to see he's already put in your favorite. He always remembered what you liked, even if it was only mentioned a single time or in passing. You asked him about it once but he just says part of his job is to observe and remember. So why would he not remember what you liked?

"I'm also adding a stop at the shops to get ice cream," he tacks on as he twists the phone away to scroll and add to the order. "You can't properly recover from a sore throat without that," he grins.

"Oh?" You ask, sliding your hand up his shirt to rest on his stomach. His delightfully warm and you can feel him involuntarily flinch from your cold fingers. "You sure it's just not your sweet tooth? That doesn't sound like real medicine," you tease.

"It is," he scoffs, "always works for me. You'll see," he slides the phone onto the end table before rolling to curl up around you, your hand sliding to his back. "Kisses are also part of the regiment," Gaz tacks on stealing a quick one from you. "Lots," he adds peppering your lips as you giggle.

Ghost

"You should have told Price you were sick before we left," Ghost admonishes as you try to hide yet another coughing fit. You were out in the field with Ghost on a recon mission and had been drinking water and eating small throat lozenges all day to try and get rid of the tickle in your throat.

"I thought it was allergies," you answer back as you adjust on your stomach and peer down the binoculars again. That is the truth, it was spring after all. But after laying out in the sun for hours now the cough was worsening and the headache was starting to set in.

You stifle another cough as you hear Ghost shift next to you before he taps your arm. You lower the binoculars a bit to glance over and see his hand holding out a jolly rancher. He's not looking at you as he holds it out, his eyes fixed down his sniper scope. You don't ask why he had one, or if he possibly had more, before you take it and pop it in your mouth. It was cherry and you grin since that's your favorite before you go back to peering at your quarry.

"Movement headed our way," Ghost says a few minutes later as he points to a convey of beat up pickup trucks. They are heading right at you. Shuffling quickly you tuck your binoculars in your ghillie suit and look around for a place to hide better. Ghost leads the way in a small crouch, his hand reaching behind him to drag you along as you curse and stuff your fist into your mouth to stifle the cough.

Dragging you into some dense bushes Ghost pulls you between his legs as he crouches. He presses your face tight into his chest, one hand behind your head the other holding a pistol resting against your back. Your body shakes as it tries to cough again and he forcefully pushes your head further into him, his kit digging into your face.

The trucks have stopped and you hear people talking as they get out and slam doors. They are searching the area and Ghost curses as you shake with another cough, your whole body vibrating with it. He shifts a bit and you dare to look up at him. His eyes are locked on the enemy that is getting closer but he darts his eyes down to you for just a second. That is definitely worry etched in his face.

Your hands scrabble around him to hold on, to try and dig even further into his warmth. You just need to keep it together for a few minutes. Surely you can not cough for that long right? Ghost shifts just a bit so you can burrow into the softness of skin between his chest and shoulder where his vest isn't. You breathe in the scent of his deodorant and laundry detergent as he continues to hold the back of your head pushing you so hard you may suffocate. If you passed out from lack of oxygen you wouldn't be coughing at least.

They're close now you hear the quiet click of Ghost flipping the safety off, his hand fisting your hair under the hood of your suit. He jumps a bit as you bite down to fight anther cough, your teeth sinking into his shirt and flesh to stifle it. His fingers flex for a moment before he loosens the grip and imperceptibly rubs your scalp with his thumb gently; a reassurance.

A call over the radio was your savoir. The men were a breath away from the bushes and you felt Ghost tense ready to shoot when the call on their radio came in. The men disburse going back to their trucks and taking off. You both stay still for a moment before Ghost finally lets you go and you lean back to look up at him.

"That's going to leave a mark," he mutters as he looks a the spot where you bit him.

"Sorry," you answer a bit embarrassed as you cough into the back of your hand. He fishes out another sweet and unwraps it and pops it in your mouth before you realize exactly what he was doing. His fingers are quick as he pushes it between your lips, his eyes locked on his movements, before he swallows and retracts his hands. It’s green apple this time, a short zip of sour hits your tongue to pull you from the confused daze he just left you in.

"I didn't say I minded," he answers flatly before pushing his hands on his knees to help himself stand up and scan the whole area. "Come on," he extends a hand to help you up, "we've still got work to do and I only have so many sweets left in my stash."

You swear you see him smirk behind his mask as you walk to a new area to settle in for surveillance.

Price

Three days of a fever. You had been holed up in bed trying anything and everything to get it to break. The old wives tale of sweating it out made you nauseated and raised your temperature too high. Then trying to freeze it out only made you shiver and made you more miserable. Sleep had been fitful, fever induced nightmares and just being uncomfortable made it hard to get decent rest.

But when John comes to check on you for the umpteenth time that day, he finds you curled up in a ball under the blankets. He pulls the covers back and finds you are soaked, your hair plastered to your forehead and t-shirt stuck to your skin.

"Sweetheart?" Price asks quietly, his hand moving to push your hair off your face where a few tendrils are stuck. "I think your fever finally broke," he says feeling at your forehead and cheek not caring about the sweat. "You aren't burning up anymore."

"What?" You grumbled trying to burrow away, still half asleep. You could care less about what he was saying, you just wanted to sleep.

"You've sweated through your clothes," he says simply and pulls the blankets back more. "You'll be much more comfortable if we get you cleaned up," he reasons as you attempt to slide away.

"I'll clean up later," you answer. Though now that you've woken up a bit you find the sweat has cooled on your body and now you're cold. And your shirt was stuck and twisted at odd angles constricting you. "I'm too tired," you tack on as you fitfully trying to right the shirt to no avail.

"I'll help you," he ventures before standing up and disappearing. You can hear him turn on the shower and you huff sitting up, the room spinning for a moment. While your fever may have broke the headache and fatigue were certainly still weighing down on you.

"Come on," John says appearing at your side and gently pulls you out of the bed. He's shirtless and you blink at him a bit as he guides you into the bathroom. The light is bright which makes you wince and he quickly flips the switch before helping you out of the shirt, his shirt, you were wearing.

"I'm not going to be able to," you start but he's already there stepping out of his pants to be fully naked next to you before pulling back the curtain.

He helps you step in before following behind and you stand under the lukewarm water for a moment savoring it before he turns you around and gently massages your scalp. It feels wonderful as he washes away the sweat and gently shampoos your hair then rinses it. While the conditioner sits he does his own, pulling you to lean against his chest for support as you stand with your eyes closed.

He's tender with the washcloth, knowing you had body aches from the flu, but makes sure to fully clean you. Lifting your legs gently in turn and spinning you to wash down your chest and stomach. When he's done he cuts the water and wraps you in a large towel and escorts you to the bedroom to sit on the small bench at the foot of the bed while he strips it down and puts on fresh new sheets.

He leaves you to your slumber while he goes back to paperwork, checking on you a few times as you finally catch up on some rest.

Soap

"When was the last time you took medicine?" Soap asks as you cough into the blanket. You've been on the couch for hours, sliding in and out of sleep as Soap puttered around the house doing chores and keeping himself occupied. He tried to coax you to go upstairs and lay in the bed properly but you refused. He was only home for a few days and you weren't going to waste your time together sleeping. Even though you were sleeping on the couch.

"Mmm, I don't remember. Around lunch?" You answer looking at your phone for the time. You were well past due.

"I'll get it," he answers as you move to sit up. "I'm going to make you what my mother always gave us as children," he adds as he disappears into the kitchen.

You continue to lay on the couch flipping channels as you hear him messing about in the kitchen. The kettle whistles and you hear more clattering before he appears with your medicine in one hand. He's already torn it out of the packaging because you can never get it open. The other hand holds a steaming mug of tea and as he hands it to you after you sit up you sniff.

"Is that...is there whiskey in this?" You ask turning your nose up a bit. Whiskey was not your drink by a long shot.

"Aye," Soap answers as he flops down on the couch next to you. "Hot toddy," he explains as you take a small sip. There is honey and lemon mixed in and you can taste cinnamon. It burns, not just from the hot water but from the alcohol, as it goes down your throat. "Ma always made it for us when we were sick. Helped with the cough and to get us to sleep."

"Weren’t you kids?" You ask raising an eyebrow at him which causes him to laugh.

"Just a wee bit of whiskey for us then," he winks before gesturing for you to continue to drink. "Warms you up from the inside out. Don't know how it works really, but it does." He slides his arm behind you on the couch so you can lean in on him.

You curl your feet up under you and lean against his chest. Once the drink cools enough you pop the medicine in your mouth, trying not to linger on the thought of taking it with alcohol, and down it. He wasn't wrong about the drink warming you from the inside out, you feel a bit flushed as you get to the bottom dregs. He takes the mug from you as you snuggle into him more.

"Haven't coughed in a bit," he observes after about thirty minutes of silence into the movie he had picked. He looks down to see you dozing off and he laughs to himself as he gently tugs you to lay your head in his lap. He gently plays with your hair as he settles in for the long haul.

You fall into a deep, restful, sleep in Soap's lap as he continues to gently tend to you. Long after the movie is over he still sits silently, enjoying the quiet moment with you.

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notfye · 4 months

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*meaning the seasonal one, not like a 24 bug or something

asking because apparently neither of my roommates have and they think it’s weird that I have??

reblog for sample size please <3

#molly's musings #polls #tumblr polls #flu #random polls #poll time #a poll a day

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giantsorcowboys · 1 year

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Hump Day Hunks 💪🏻👨🏼💪🏻

Summer's Here! ☀️😎🏊🏻‍♂️🩲🍑😍🔥😍🔥

Smuggle On, Dudes!🌶🌶🌶🌶

#Hump Day Hunks #Hump Day Rumps #Muscular Hindquarters #Beautiful Men #Random Hot Guys #Cute Guys #England #Rugby #Rugby Union #EURFC #Muse of Rugby #Mr. Power Glutes #Budgy Smugglers #Budgy Buddies #Woof Baby!#Men in Speedos #Sun's Out Buns Out!#Smuggle On Dudes!

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asha-mage · 11 months

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Here's a pride month flavor musing for you:

There's something to be said about the fact that even when works of period art are deliberately using a fun house mirror version of history so they can have more modern/progressive sensibilities for either race (Bridgerton) or feminism (Mrs Masiel) they still almost always maintain a period accurate attitude twords homosexuality and queerness.

It's almost like this weird tacit acknowledgement that though we can expect the audience to accept a desegregated British Aristocracy or a 1950s house wife doing stand-up comedy that speaks to modern feminist struggles, we can't expect an audience to accept gay people having happy fulfilling lives and relationships in the same way. Queerness still has this edge of enforced tragedy, secrecy, and shame to it. Of course Shy Baldwin is forced to marry a woman in order to keep his fame and to loose his best friend after nearly being outed. Of course Suzie's one romance is a tragic heartbreak that embittered her to love and left her "happy to be alone". Of course Reynolds and Brimsley must steal moments in secret and ultimately be separated- without even a passing explanation as to why their not together in the "later" timeline. Their is certainly no scene of them reuniting in the same way George and Charlotte get. Reynolds and Brimsley are queer, it's assumed they don't get to be happy and end up together, even as the show lauds the undying and unyielding love of a interracial Queen Charlotte and King George.

I know that it's just a reflection of where our society is and yet....I can't help but wish it was different. I love all these big budget glossy period pieces that look back at our history and ask "what if it had been different? What if we had been kinder and more accepting and less hateful?" and I genuinely do believe that is a question worth asking. I just think it's a question worth asking for everyone.

#random musing #queen charlotte #bridgerton #the marvelous mrs. maisel #queer #gay #queer issues #historical fiction #period pieces #shy baldwin #susie myerson #brimsley #reynolds #Pride Month #One day I'll get my glossy big budget regency era but with gay marriage love story between two emotionally stunted gentlemen #one day

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proteesiukkonen · 2 months

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I hear it's some asexuality pride day, and I'm sick and bored so a brief ace story time.

Something like 10 years ago, when I was fresh in my early 20s, high on living independent and individual life, I wanted to experiment with being visibly queer and bought myself an ace ring.

I don't know if those are still a thing, but back then it was a black ring worn on some specific finger and it was meant to be this kinda secret signal of being asexual. So, I searched high and low for an adult-size black ring and finally found one in a gem shop, made from some sort of mineral and very affordable.

Put it on with pride every morning, fully ready and prepared to explain to anyone asking that why yes it's an asexual pride ring are you familiar with our lord and savior Ace of Sexuality if not I can explaaaaaiinn. Like a goddamn brand ambassador of my own life, I was so ready.

Less than a week in, I slapped my hand against a table a bit harded than usual and the cheap bastard ring broke into a thousand pieces.

Threw it away like the traitor it was, didn't buy a new one and slid back into my comfy life of obscurity. No-one had paid any attention to the ring anyway.

And that's the first and last time I tried being out all loud and proud.

Anyway, have a good one acey lads.

#random musings #delete later #asexuality #born to be mild #of course these days my girlfriend outs me simply by existing in the same space so there's that

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mask131 · 3 months

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In general, when it comes to the religious approach between the US and a country like France, the huge gap can be easily explained by history.

The USA history was all about learning to embrace and accept and tolerate all and every religion. Yes there was religious fanaticism and religious extremes in this country - in fact a lot of people in there like to forget the founders of the USA were themselves considered religious fanatics by Europe. But the whole history of the USA is about learning to be open-minded and tolerant and respectful of other religions.

But a country like France? Its history is about to try and kill religion. France had its "let's welcome and open all religions" era - but a long time ago, and somehow it shows how "young" of a country the USA is. France meanwhile went way past beyond that, and went to the next phase, the systematic elimination of religion, or at least reducing it to the point of it being harmless.

Because France had to deal with all the most fucked up things religion had to offer. Not only did we kept fighting with every neighboring countries in names of religions (Christianity vs Islam, Catholicism vs Protestantism or Anglicanism), but we even had the historical traumatism of the religious wars within France itself, the country devouring its own due to the Catholic vs Protestant debate. Itself being a mere continuation of the strict hunt by the Inquisition of all the various "heretic" groups in France - France was the country where the Templar Knights and the Cathare met their death by mass executions.

The French Revolution was all about getting rid of an over-powerful and corrupted Church, and of a biased government tied to Christianity so much the Crown and the Church were just one and the same. Overthrowing the King was overthrowing the chosen of God, and the one sent by God - and thus the French Revolution was about men of religion, and the Terreur that followed made sure to get rid of all those French communities that were still too attached to their religion. Heck the French Revolution was all about removing any religious name, and all religious celebrations and destroying all religious statues - not just of Christianity, but also of long-dead religions such as the Greek or Roman ones.

And the Enlightenment. What about the Enlightenment? Everybory part of the "Lights" were about denouncing and criticizing religious fanaticism and the power of "superstition" over the minds. They liked in times of religious wars and persecutions, and they knew first hand that religion was the enemy of a good, human thinking. Just take Voltaire's writing: the guy spent his entire life taking down any form of organized, unthought religion, caricaturing, mocking or denouncing all the forms of Inquisition and hurtful superstitions he could find.

And even then, one of the most important dates French kids are taught in school, which is considered to mark the beginning of modern France, is 1905: the law separating the Church from the State. This was the moment the modern Republic, after many tries and fails, finally established the principle that religion should not be part of a government, and that the State should be above religion, and that religion was a private domain not a public one. This is one of the fundamental principles of the French Republic: secularism, laicity, the modern way to ensure a freedom of religion by making sure none dominate and that all religious matters are to be secondary in the greater scope of things.

So yeah, what I am trying to say is that France's entire history is about fighting off religion and trying to make clear it should not define people's life and should not be imposed on anybody and should not have too much power. Because France lived in the trauma of the Inquisition, and the religious wars, and the superstition-fueled persecutions, and the Church influencing if not corrupting the government. Times and times again in an endless cycle.

Which of course is going to make a HUGE difference when it comes to religious approach compared to a country like the United-States, which was founded by religious communities, partially for religious reasons, and whose entire creation relied on religious principles (like Manifest Destiny), and where the President still has to swear by the Bible before obtaining their post...

#random rant of the day #or random musing of the day #i don't know #i'm tired #religion #france #usa #history

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faceofpoe · 3 months

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There's no real thesis to this observation but while we're comparing waterfall excursions across seasons -

The Crossing takes place after Echo decides to join with Rex. Omega is having a Bad Time coping, and Wrecker & Tech are bickering a lot, and Omega is very keen that Echo come save them but for various reasons he cannot, and Tech tells her something like "We'll find a solution as we always do." (and they do)

Infiltration/Extraction take place after Echo sort of returns/they sort of step into his mission with Rex. Omega is having a Bad Time (for obvious reasons) on the heels of Hunter & Crosshair being at each other's throats and Everything hinges on Echo coming to save them. (and he does)

IDK just - one of the ways Tech's absence is Very Loud this episode but less pointed than "how do we decrypt things?" Every time Rex said something about contacting Echo I kept thinking back to The Crossing.

(but also LOL apparently they could have just taken Nala Se's datapad to Fireball the whole time?)

#random late night musings these eps haven't been eating my brain all day or anything what?#the bad batch #the bad batch spoilers #tbb #tbb spoilers #bad batch #bad batch spoilers

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e-louise-bates · 2 months

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Watching the World Figure Skating Championships this past week, I realized all over again how frustrating it is that we have dissolved the complexity of the sport into two categories: technical ability and artistic ability (aka technical elements and program components, according to the judging rubric). Because to my eyes, and I realize this makes me sound fully my age and then some, what is (generally) lacking in figure skating currently is not artistry, as many people complain: it's basic skating skills. The top-ranked male skater in the world right now has such scratchy edges and poor control when he's not performing his elements that it is painful to watch at times. He may be able to do a quad axel, (and it is a thing of beauty,) but if he ever attempted edges or footwork like we used to see in the days of figures, he'd fall flat on his face. Spins may be spectacular and complicated, but I can count on one hand the number of skaters who don't need suitcases for how far they travel when they spin. Programs may even be choreographed well and performed well, but again, it doesn't make up for lack of edge work, control, precision, and quickness.

I know we can't move backward in any sport, and I wouldn't want to. Figures are not coming back. I just wish that we could somehow celebrate the sport moving forward in a way that added to its complexity and beauty, rather than replacing those parts of it with technical prowess and static routines where even the choreography is limited to elements like "choreo sequence level 1" or "step sequence level 2."

There are a lot of brilliant skaters out there right now, and I guess it just makes me sad that we don't get to see them ever reach their full potential because of the way in which the sport has shifted. And ultimately, has the sport improved because of it? If we're talking popularity, no. Outside of the skating world, nobody cares that we have a man who can do a quad axel. That's not bringing viewers rushing to the events. Stars on Ice is not touring through the US this year for the first time since it began in 1987--citing a difficulty in finding venues and booking skaters, but I have to believe a lack of ticket sales is contributing to both of those difficulties.

And if we're talking the sport being better intrinsically ... well, when almost all the best skaters in the world have to retire before the age of thirty because of hip and knee problems (and for some female skaters, before the age of twenty), when there's nothing left for a skater after he or she is done competing because there's no professional figure skating world anymore, when the sport is even more riddled with scandal now than it was in the 1990s and early 2000s ... I'd have to say no to that as well.

In short (she says, ignoring the fact that nothing about this post is short), this doesn't actually feel like progress to me--in many ways, it feels like the sport of figure skating as a whole is moving backward, despite the technical advances. And that has nothing to do with a perceived lack of artistic ability in the skaters, but rather has to do with the breaking down of something complex and intricate into disparate parts and then ignoring the fact that there's nothing to hold them together.

I hope there is a shift soon, or else I fear that this sport I love so well will vanish entirely.

#random musings #I want to be very clear that this is not dunking on any individuals #but rather the way the sport itself has been developed and shaped #there are some who are fighting the system #and some who are finding a way to thrive within it #and I admire and respect all of them #and even enjoy watching many of them #but the overall trend of figure skating these days is a frustrating one

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