#send throat lozenges

[jinjeriffic]

DCxDP Prophecy Universe Part 3

Part 2

Tim reached up to rub at his temples and groaned. This was getting him nowhere. Normally he enjoyed going down the research rabbit-hole but this was ridiculous! Paranormal sciences were a bad joke. Most of it was conjecture, hearsay and unprovable theories with just enough scientific sounding jargon peppered in to confuse a layperson. Peer-review was practically non-existent, not to mention a proper scientific method. Francis Bacon would be rolling in his grave!

The slight hiss of the elevator doors opening interrupted his thoughts.

“Hey Replacement, you missed dinner!” Jason called, sauntering over with a loaded plate in hand. He set down a sandwich next to Tim’s elbow. “Alfie says he’s cutting off your coffee supply until you get some damn sleep. I’m pretty sure he’s gonna start prepping the knock-out gas soon!” he quipped, leaning his hip against the Batcomputer’s console. “Research on the League giving you trouble?”

“I wish.” Tim sighed, reaching for the sandwich, “The Assassins have actually been pretty quiet recently. I found some leads on suspicious political donations in Italy, but nothing I can tie to them directly. Talia’s in Paris as far as I can tell, working at an investment firm for God knows what reason. Probably money laundering related. And the ones holed up in Nanda Parbat have been quiet as murderous little church mice.”

“Ra’s isn’t up to anything? Colour me shocked.” Jason drawled sardonically, “You sure he’s not cooking up a new batch of demon spawn in that mountain of his?”

Tim shook his head. “You know Bruce destroyed his cloning labs after the last… incident. And I’ve found no records of the League procuring the necessary materials or equipment to restart production.” he wrinkled his nose, “Of course it’s possible that they used a shell company we haven’t come across yet, but I believe the odds are pretty low.”

“So what’s got your panties in a bunch then?”

Tim’s mouth twisted in a frown. “Ghosts.”

“Ah.”

Jason stared off into space and Tim took a bite of his sandwich. Egg-salad, score! The Cave was silent for a while, only disturbed by the noise of the actual bats heading out for their nightly hunt.

“I can’t tell you for sure if ghosts are real or not. I don’t remember anything from when I was… dead.” Jason said haltingly, and Tim stilled. “But we’ve seen people come back under pretty weird circumstances. So why not ghosts?” Jason shrugged.

Tim chewed and swallowed before replying. “Because it’s one thing for the physical body to be restored, but some kind of nebulous ‘spirit’ lingering? Why don’t we see ghosts all the time then? Why don’t people come back? Why not…” Tim broke off.

“Your Dad?”

Tim nodded and dropped the remains of the sandwich back on the plate. It suddenly looked as appetising as cardboard.

“I don’t know, birdie. We still don’t know why I came back.” Jason snorted “Maybe the universe just has a sick sense of humour.”

Tim’s lips curled up in a mirthless smile. “Maybe the universe missed your terrible puns. Some of those still haunt me.”

Jason barked out a surprised laugh. “That was terrible!”

“The universe clearly made a grave mistake.”

“Stop it, I can feel my brain cells dying!” Jason groaned and gave Tim a light punch to the shoulder.

“Well we can’t have that, you have so few already!” Tim snarked, then quickly leaned to the side to evade Jason’s attempted noogie. Jason huffed and stepped back, crossing his arms.

“All right mister teenage genius. What have you dug up about ghosts then?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “There’s obviously tons of folklore from all over the world. Pretty much every mythology has stories about the spirits or souls of the dead returning to haunt the living. But if there’s a scientific basis to all this then it’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Even the supposed leaders in the field are hopelessly biased.” He pulled up some documents on the screen. “Take these for example. The Doctors Fenton are supposed experts in the field of ‘Ecto-Biology’ as they call it, but their research papers would never fly with a proper scientific journal. A lot of it comes across as blatantly xenophobic towards the entities they are supposedly studying and their research methods seem geared towards confirming what they view as foregone conclusions. And most of their peers operate on the same track.”

Jason hummed thoughtfully as he skimmed one of the articles in question. “Do you think there’s anything to this, or is it all just a hoax?”

Tim snorted. “If there is, they haven’t offered any conclusive proof. Though they certainly seem to have made it work for them. The Fentons have a series of patents for weapons and defenses against these supposed ‘ecto-entities’ and it looks like there’s plenty of people gullible enough to buy them. I haven’t taken a closer look at their products yet, but a lot of it looks like something out of a pulp sci-fi movie.” He pulled up the image of what looked like a bazooka with green glowing parts. Jason whistled.

“So, con artists or mad scientists?”

“Could be both. Their financial records are all over the place and they’ve had some large transactions with what I’m pretty sure are shell companies in recent years. They live and operate out of a small city in Illinois.” Tim said, pulling up the relevant documents on screen.

“Amity Park?” Jason read aloud.

“Supposedly it’s ‘The Most Haunted City in America’. Seems on brand, doesn’t it?”

“It probably helps them stay in business. It looks like they have kids?” Jason pointed at the tax returns. Tim typed some search queries into the system.

“Two. One in high school, one just started her first semester at Metropolis University. With a full scholarship to boot.” He spent a few more minutes hacking into the university’s systems. “Here we go, Jasmine Fenton. Looks like she’s going for a psychology degree. And… hm…” Tim trailed off. Jason quickly realised what had caught his attention.

“‘The Damaging Effects of Envy Towards Metahumans? That’s a hell of a topic for a freshman-year essay.” Jason remarked.

“Yes. I wonder…” Tim drummed his fingers on the keyboard. “She might have some insight into her parents’ research.”

“And at a cursory glance, she didn’t drink whatever Kool-Aid her parents were serving.” Jason finished for him. “You wanna go pump her for information?”

“I might as well. If nothing else, maybe we can shut down a couple of mad scientists before they become a problem.” Tim stood up and stretched. “Time for a field trip!”

Part 4

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #batman #batfamily #tim drake #red robin #jason todd #red hood #no beta we die like danny #I'm sick and wordvomited this out at like 4am #send throat lozenges #prophecy universe #the one where clockwork uses prophecies to mess things up (and set things right)

[ghosts-bandwagon]

I can feel myself getting sick! And I hit my head super hard today and I’ve had a crazy headache ever since! So here’s the 141 taking care of their sick idiot s/o!

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

He heard it the moment you spoke for the first time that day, you sounded congested and nasally

He made you some tea and heated up some soup, you laughed and asked about occasion

You knew you were getting sick but you’re a stubborn bitch so that means that you’re not sick and everything is fine

He knows you so he just shrugs and asks what’s wrong with soup for breakfast

He lets you go about the day, only stepping in when he sees you’re getting fatigued, discreetly suggesting you two lay down and watch a movie in bed

You’re getting the snacks ready when you drop the unopened bag of popcorn, as you’re straightening up you slammed your head on the granite countertop

It was so loud, Simon sprinted across the living room to make sure you were ok

He looked at your head and made sure you weren’t bleeding, when he didn’t see any surface damage he rushed to the freezer and pressed an ice pack on the back of your head

It was a little embarrassing and it took a lot to resist the urge to cry, he saw how much you were laughing to and playing it up and knew you felt worse than you let on

He guided you to bed, ice pack still pressed o your head, he ushered you under the covers, checking to make sure you weren’t concussed

Simon brewed a fresh cup of tea with a generous amount of honey and a light squeeze of lemon

He put on the movie and had a handful of throat lozenges in his pocket at the ready, fingers running through your hair, checking in on you and monitoring your symptoms

He blames himself for not interfering sooner but hearing your small cough and feeling you nuzzle into his chest made him feel needed, it was nice taking care of you, and a refreshing new way of being relied on

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

You kinda have to tell him if you’re feeling unwell

Not to say he doesn’t notice it when he sees you a little more fatigued and glassy eyed than usual

But as soon as you tell him you’re throat’s hurting, he’s up and making you some tea, while it’s brewing, he’s getting some cold medicine together and queuing your favorite movie

While he’s doing that he hears a loud ‘thunk’ and immediately runs over to check on you, he sees the cabinet door open and he sees you bent over and cradling your head

He can’t help the chuckle that comes out but he immediately shuts his mouth the moment he catches your glare

He fishes in the freezer for the ice pack and presses it against your head, he sends you to lay down on the couch but he catches you wobbling as you’re walking

He was at your side in a second, he hurried back to the kitchen and got some water for you

He sat beside you and rubbed your back, careful of his volume and careful not to move you too much

Needless to say, you didn’t lift a finger the rest of the day

John Price:

Like Ghost, he heard it in your voice when you first said ‘good morning’

Except he was more adamant on catching it sooner rather than later, he made you some Theraflu and didn’t move an inch until you finished it

If he heard you cough throughout the day, he’d magically appear with a cough drop ready for you to eat

Your water bottle doesn’t have a chance to be empty, same thing with your tea cup, it always managed to stay filled

You were loading up the laundry machine when you smacked your head hard against the rim, it was so loud John was at your side in a heartbeat

He cradled your head and checked your scalp for a cut or any blood, when he didn’t see any he gently applied pressure and walked you both to the kitchen where he grabbed the ice pack

He guided you to the bedroom where he instructed you to sit on the bed, he noticed your walking was a little uneven and all his training came to him in a split second

He walked you to the bed and knelt down in front of you, asked you to follow his fingers, took out his phone and turned on his flashlight, checking your pupils and asking you to follow it

He held the ice pack firmly against your head and ran down the list of symptoms, asking you and making sure you were ok

He didn’t leave your side for the rest of the day unfortunately for your partially loaded laundry

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick:

You told him that morning that you were feeling congested and he went to pharmacy as soon as you mentioned it

When he came back, he saw you doubled over and clutching your head, he sets the bags down and hurried to your side

“Sweetheart, what happened?” He asked, you explained that you dropped your phone under the table and didn’t realize how close you were to it when you hit your head on the edge

“Babe if you missed me that much, you could’ve called, I would’ve come back sooner.” He teased, you punched him in the arm as hard as you could,

When your punch was lighter than usual, he got worried and had you sit down on the couch

He handed you the bag full of snacks and pulled out a bottle of Gatorade for you to slowly drink

While you were doing that he went to the kitchen to grab an ice pack and wrap a towel around it

He sat beside you and handed it to you to press to the area, in the meantime he opened a package of cough lozenges and handed you one

He got up and started making your favorite ramen flavor and brewing a cup of lemon ginger tea with a generous helping of honey

He sat beside you and held the ice pack against your head while you ate, he turned the tv on to your favorite show and kissed your head and your cheek

He made sure all your needs were tended to for the day and spoiled you rotten

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader

[eros7hanatos]

➽ Things NXX members do when you get sick 

Warnings: established relationships, character and reader live together, pure fluff, SFW, reader doesn’t have to be Rosa, gn reader

Word count: 754

A/N: some fluff to clear my thoughts and make me less stressed TT, I’m in love with all of them.

Luke Pearce

A little panicked, as soon as you stumbled out of your room to go on about your day, your face flushed for no apparent reason he yelped, “No way you’re going anywhere today! You’re staying at home and recovering!”

Literally rushes to the convenience store nearby to buy you medicine. You wake up from your nap to see him drenched in sweat with a plastic bag in his hand and a smile on his face.

Knows your favorite foods that you eat when you're sick and tries his best to make it but, well, he’s not the best cook. So he buys some instead. 

He makes sure that you take your medicines on time and always stays by your side.

Drowns you in hugs and kisses, no matter what you say or do can make him stop. “Luke! You’re going to get sick as well!” he continues to drown you in love and affection.

Such a cutie, trying his best to take care of you. Cheers you up by telling stories, either from his past or funny stories of you guys.

Artem Wing

Immediately pulls you back to bed as soon as he feels your temperature. “You have a fever. You need to stay home and rest.”

A lot calmer than Luke or Marius.

Has basic medicine at home, since he’s a workaholic he takes medicine and works from home. Quickly drives to the nearest convenience store to buy more medicine, if needed. He won’t do anything like that to you though. Insists you stay in bed.

Offers to clear up work or studies for you if on a deadline or urgent. 

Home cooked meals, he’s a great cook, I just know it. 

Such a serious and worried cutie, tries his best to help. Offers his arm for support wherever you go and feeds you water every 30 minutes.

Vyn Richter

Notices something is off almost instantly. “You don’t look so well.” “I’m fine.” after a few moments of silence, and of him inspecting you, “You’re sick. You need to rest.”

Definitely the calmest in the group. I mean he’s a doctor. Psychiatrist, but he still has the general medical knowledge.

Has ALL the medicine you need, throat lozenges? check. Tylenol for headaches? check. No convenience store run for him. 

Brews you herbal tea depending on your symptoms and omg are they delicious and cures your sore throat almost instantaneously. Reminds you to take your medicine on time, never misses one.

Acts as an actual doctor in hopes of cheering you up, “It seems like you’ve been overworked for too long, too much stress. I prescribe you 3-5 days of rest.” “Yes, Dr. Richter~” you play along, having fun. 

Marius von Hagen

At first he panicked when he felt your body rising in temperature. “Ah! Jiejie, why’re you so hot?” You laugh at his wording, even if your throat hurts. “I know I’m hot, but thanks for the reassurance” you tease him back. “You have a fever, Jiejie!” he says, touching your forehead, ignoring what you just said.

Such a drama queen. Has Payton bring every single medicine they could find in that huge mansion of his as well as send Payton to go buy every single medicine on the shelf of the nearby convenience store. 

Was about to call the ambulance, which you refused of course, “It’s just a fever! Rest and water is all I need!” He insists on driving you to the hospital. After a talk with Payton, both of you begging Marius that it’s not that bad, he reluctantly agrees.

He contacts AT LEAST 3 doctors to come immediately to treat you. All of this makes you even more tired, you decide to lie down and take a break from all of his… worried actions…

He finally finds you in his room, all wrapped up and sleeping. He stays by your side the whole time, offering help when not even needed. 

“Where are you going?” “To the toilet.” “Let me help.” He helps bring you to the toilet, just as you step inside he doesn’t leave. You raise an eyebrow. “Um?” “I can help!” “I don’t need help anymore! I can pee by myself!” “but-” “Marius, get out!” ”forgive him. He just worries about you <3

Once you get better though, ohoho, he’s teasing you about this every chance he gets. You soon miss the quiet days of your fever and how he was always worried and listening to you. Now he’s back to his teasing and antics.

#Tears of Themis #Luke pearce #artem wing #Vyn richter #marius von hagen #xiayan #zuoran #moyi #lujinghe #luke pearce x reader #artem wing x reader #vyn richter x reader #marius von hagen x reader #tears of themis x reader #NXX members

[katelynnwrites]

And I Say To You (Soon You'll Get Better) | Laura Freigang

warnings: flu and other general sickness stuff

word count: 1160

summary: you get sick and your lovely girlfriend looks after you. when she gets sick, you repay the favour

a/n: requested, thanks for sending this in 🥰

It started as a tickle in your throat.

You drank as much water as you could to try and get rid of it but it doesn’t work.

Barely a day after your realisation, you’re waking up with a full body ache.

Sneezes and a coughing fit follow suit and you’re breathless by the time you manage to get it under control.

Gentle, cool fingers slide themselves under your shirt, rubbing soothing circles onto your back. It doesn’t take much for you to figure out who they belong to, even when your head is pounding.

‘Sorry for waking you.’ You hoarsely say, wincing at how dry your throat is.

‘It’s okay.’ Your girlfriend whispers.

Her hands touch your forehead and Laura frowns worriedly.

‘You’re burning up baby.’

‘S’okay.’ You mumble tiredly, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep.

Everything is a little hazy but you can feel the bed dip as the blonde leaves.

She’s back a moment later, fever reducers, lozenges and a mug of warm water in hand.

You groan as she gets you to sit up. The world swims a little and you don’t like it.

A distressed whine must have left your lips because the striker seems doubly worried now as she looks you over.

Her palm rests against your forehead again and her brows are furrowed anxiously as she pulls away.

The mug is pressed into your hands and your girlfriend helps guide it to your lips.

You sip slowly and Laura hums in approval.

She swaps the mug out for the medication after a few minutes.

‘You’ll feel better after these, I promise.’ She coaxes.

‘Thanks schatz.’ You murmur and she kisses your too hot cheek.

‘I’ll let the staff know we’re not coming for training today.’

‘No no. You should go. I’ll be okay.’ You immediately say.

The striker shakes her head, already putting the mug and remaining medication away.

‘I’m staying here to look after you.’

‘Lau…’ You try but she is adamant.

‘You know you would do the same for me.’ She states, leaving no room for argument as she strips her shirt off.

She slowly eases yours up and over your head before getting you to lie back down with her.

Your girlfriend spoons you close, smiling when she hears the sigh of relief you let out. Her body is so much cooler and is a welcome touch against your feverish one.

Carefully, she pulls the blanket back over both your bodies and you melt into the German forward.

Laura’s efforts have made you feel a lot more comfortable that it’s not long before you are falling back asleep.

******

It’s your girlfriend’s hushed voice that registers on your bleary mind when you begin to come to.

‘No her fever hasn’t broken yet so you may as well go ahead and tell the coaching team that we’re both not going to be able to come in tomorrow.’

You crack open an eye, making out the blonde’s figure in the dimly lit room.

She is sitting at the foot of the bed, her phone held to her ear.

In doing so, you note with some displeasure that your head still hurts.

Shifting your body, you find out that the rest of your body still does too.

Laura must have heard the sheets rustling because she turns around immediately and hangs up the call with a rushed, ‘I’ll call you back later Lara.’

‘Hi.’ You mumble as she fusses over you.

‘Your temperature is still running too high.’ She unhappily says after checking once more, this time with an actual thermometer.

Curiously, you ask, ‘Where did you get that?’

Your fever is not so high as to forget that you do not own a thermometer.

‘I had a few of our teammates drop off some stuff earlier.’ The blonde explains, blushing a little.

‘I love you.’

Your favourite person smiles, gently pressing her lips against yours.

You melt until you remember that you remember that you are sick.

Weakly, you push her away, ‘Lau! No kissing! No kissing! I don’t want you to catch my bug.’

Your girlfriend laughs, ‘My girl I hate to remind you but I’ve been cuddled up with you all day. Kissing you doesn’t make a difference because I have already been exposed to your germs.’

Your eyes widen and the striker giggles again.

‘Don’t worry, I love you and that includes your germs. Plus I have a great immune system.’ She confidently states.

The striker firmly kisses you once more to prove her point.

You kind of want to keep her away, to make sure she doesn’t get sick despite what she had said but you are really feeling too ill.

You’re exhausted too and as Laura keeps running her fingers through your hair, with you settled on your chest, your eyes begin to slip close.

‘Sleep my love.’ She whispers.

******

When you next wake up, it’s because Laura’s hand is on your forehead.

‘Hey you.’ She smiles.

You smile back, feeling significantly better. Your head is clear and your limbs hurt less.

‘Your fever’s broken.’ The blonde murmurs, affectionately stroking the space between your eyebrows with her thumb.

‘What time is it?’ You ask.

‘Late. Four in the morning last I checked.’ She answers, after thinking for a moment.

‘Schatz! What are you doing up?’

The forward shrugs, ‘Looking after you of course. I couldn’t sleep till I knew for sure that your fever’s gone down.’

You pull your girlfriend down beside you.

‘I love you so much. So so much.’ You whisper.

‘Love you too.’ Laura easily promises.

‘My fever is gone so please get some sleep.’ You insist, somewhat guiltily realising that she has the beginnings of dark circles forming around her eyes.

‘Take your medicine first. You’re due for another dose.’ The German woman argues, pointing to the pills and bottle of water set neatly on your bedside table.

You do as she asks and then tuck her into your side, kissing her chastely.

‘Goodnight schatz.’

******

Laura’s right.

Her immune system is strong and she does not catch whatever illness you have.

She does however wind up with a cold after her impromptu snowball fight with Lina.

Then it’s your turn to look after her, holding her close as she sleeps restlessly, her fever running its course.

‘Love you.’ You whisper to your silly, silly girlfriend.

She had really gone at it with the Bayern midfielder, the both of them stuffing handfuls of snow down the back of each other’s shirts.

It had been hilarious and you are sure the photos would turn out so too. You love that side of Laura, the one that draws in everyone, fans and teammates alike with her antics.

But this other side of the blonde, the one that only you see, who makes grabby hands for your cuddles with fever flushed cheeks and whines when she has to take her medicine, well you love it too.

German Translation:

schatz - sweetheart

#laura freigang #laura freigang x reader #laura freigang imagine #woso #woso x reader #woso fanfic #woso fanfics #woso imagine #eintracht frankfurt #eintracht frankfurt frauen #gerwnt #dfb frauen #gerwnt x reader #gerwnt imagine #dfb frauen x reader #dfb frauen imagine #katelynnwrites #uswnt imagine #uswnt x reader

[starlightandfairies]

Omg i looooove you !! I might have another idea, just something simple like, the reader and Elijah are dating but his calls won't get any reply for nearly a whole day. So as worried as he is, he comes to your house, finding you terribly sick and immediately turns into nurse mode to take care of you and making sure you get better soon ? 🥺

Description: The reader becomes unwell with a cold and due to missing calls this worries Elijah and once he discovers the truth he ends up playing nurse.

Warnings: she/her pronouns, fluff, swearing

*Requests are open, please send through as many requests as you want, check my character list and requesting rules.*

Thank you for another request! I hope you enjoy this one too! Sorry it's a short one

Key: Y/N = Your Name, L/N = Last name, POV = Point of view

Word Count: 822

First Person's POV

When Elijah and I didn't see each other we would have an hour-long phone call if it were possible. Even if we had seen each other all day, before I would go to bed he'd practically talk to me until I fell asleep. I loved listening to his loving, gentle, tender and handsome voice. I love the fact that of all people, Elijah chose me. A human. At first, when our relationship started getting more serious, he was scared of getting carried away and forgetting that I am a human... so he was gentle and I mean he's still incredibly gentle with me but he's less hesitant when we're being more intimate. 

Another thing that I adored about Elijah was how he looked after my every need, he was thoughtful and would remember things about me that I don't even remember mentioning to him but the fact that he knew me inside and out about my likes and dislikes it made me feel special and cared for. 

I got think, I hated being sick, half the time when I'm sick I can hardly look at the light and pretty much have to sit in a dark room. My bedroom floor was decorated with tissues, I looked gross and I felt gross. I hadn't been on my phone all day, forgetting to tell Elijah about the fact that I was sick and wouldn't be on the phone. 

I groaned, burying my face into the pillow as my headache banged against my head, the doorbell rang a few times and it took me longer than normal to get to the front door. I jumped seeing Elijah about to walk in with concern and worry covering his features. I cannot imagine how I looked, I am sure that I looked just as bad as I felt. My nose must be all red and my eyes must be puffy. He instantly pulled me into his arms, stepped into my home and rested a gentle kiss on my forehead. 

"Oh, sweetheart, I wished you would've told me that you were sick." He cooed, easily picking me up, resting my head on his shoulder and carried me back to my room. The vampire proceeded to rest his suit coat on my dresser chair and rested me on my bed. 

"I'll run a shower for you, you know they help and make you feel fresher." I pathetically nodded, leaning into him as he rested another kiss on my forehead. Elijah got the warm water running, the steam from the bathroom sneaking into my bedroom as I waddled into the bathroom. Once I managed to leave the warm cocoon of the water I smiled seeing new pyjamas resting on the counter. I dressed myself and curled back into bed, waiting for Elijah to come back. 

"I got some Vicks, sore throat lozenge, pain killers, water and chicken soup with the noodles drained out." 

"Oh, you really love me," I whispered, pushing myself up and smiling tiredly at Elijah as he rested the soup on my bedside table, placed the water down and sat down beside me gesturing to the Vicks vapour rub, asking permission to rub it on. I stared at him as he began rubbing it across my chest, he had a kind smile on his lips and whispered softly. 

"You must think I am attractive right now," I mumbled, buttoning my shirt back up as he finished rubbing the stuff on me. 

"I think you're absolutely stunning every day I lay my eyes on you. There's never a time when you're not stunning." 

"You're a liar." 

"I never lie." He whispers. Kissing my forehead, smiling softly and grabbing the bowl of soup. Elijah proceeded to feed me a spoonful of the soup. Elijah would take pauses when I needed a break, he would stare at me with adoration in his eyes and would whisper words of love. 

After having me take painkillers, then had me have the lozenge. Elijah brought me into his arms, stroking my cheek with a small smile. I fell asleep wrapped in his arms, my head aching once I woke up once more. I groaned, feeling hot and stuffy. I pushed myself out of bed, jumping to find Elijah right at my side. 

"What can I do for you, my love?" 

"I need fresh air, I feel all hot and yucky again." He picked me up as if I were a fragile piece of glass, I clutched onto him gently, letting him easily carry me out to the sitting area outside and rested me on the lounge chair. I hummed gently as Elijah began reading a passage from his book, a loving look in his eyes and his voice soothing enough to make me feel better and the low hum made the headache go away and everything seem okay. 

#the originals #fluff #angst #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson imagine #the mikaelsons #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson x y/n #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson fluff #klaus mikaelson fluff #daniel gillies #joseph morgan #rebekah mikaelson #hayley marshall #marcel gerard #freya mikaelson #kol mikaelson #niklaus mikaelson #niklaus imagines #niklaus x reader #niklaus mikaelson x reader #niklaus mikaelson fluff #niklaus mikaelson angst #klaus mikealson x reader #klaus mikaleson imagine #klaus mikealson fanfiction #klaus mikaelson one shot

[pedrito-friskito]

I'm back with another!! Fluff prompt #1 for Frankie, please 😇💜 (sorry I'm on mobile so I can't copy and paste it 😬)

yay fluff!! this was actually the same request as the one I got for Joel from @iamskyereads - but this one took a very different turn!

(prompt was: “Should I stop talking?” “Don’t, your voice is very soothing.”)

this was VERY self-indulgent, and it got a little (a lot) spicy, but I would truly do anything for Frankie Morales so so here we go!

eventual smut under the cut!

requests are open until saturday midnight!

the cold

(word count 1.7k)

Frankie is a suck when he’s sick. Like, man-cold to the nth degree. He’s a baby, in every sense of the word. But you can’t help it, taking care of him every way you can.

Flu season is a bit of a write-off in your house. While you fill your body with antioxidant teas and immune-boosting vitamins, Frankie thinks it’s all bullshit, waving off your offers with a mumbled, “I don’t get sick.”

Except, he does.

It starts fine; it always does. A bit of a cough, clearing his throat repeatedly, rubbing at his nose and making that scrunched-up expression you secretly love (more so when it’s not the first sign of impending sickness…). He asks for soup for dinner, grumbles at you that his throat is sore, takes longer, hotter showers than normal. But he powers through, refuses to call into work cuz, “It’s just a bit of a cold, baby. I’m fine.”

Except, he’s very quickly not fine.

His truck is in the driveway when you get home from work, which is your first clue. Frankie’s almost never home before you, and as you pass his truck on your way to the door, you can see wads of tissues scattered on the bench seat, lozenge wrappers decorating the dashboard. You sigh as you fish your keys out of your pocket, unlocking the door and stepping inside. He whines as soon as he hears your shoes on the tile.

“Baby, I’m sick.”

You have to stifle your giggle, unloading your work bag and purse from your arms, toeing off your shoes and locking the door behind you. “You don’t say, Francisco.”

He’s sprawled out on the couch, wrapped in the flannel blanket that usually lives on the back of the sofa. He doesn’t look well, to start; his skin is pale, his forehead shining with a thin sheen of sweat, his eyes bloodshot. You step to the back of the couch, leaning over and touching the back of your hand to his forehead. He’s warm, too, and holds your hand to his skin with something like a whimper on his lips.

“Your hands are so soft, baby.”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes as you head for the kitchen. “Have you taken anything?” you ask, beelining for the cupboard where you keep the meds, fishing out a package of cold and flu, along with another baggie of lozenges and one of the echinacea teabags you’ve been hoarding since he first started coughing. “Fish?”

“No,” he calls back, clearing his throat, which sends him into a coughing fit. You pop two of the pills out of the blister back, fill a glass of water, returning to the living room and perching on the coffee table as he stops, offering the water.

“Drink,” you command, and he listens, clammy fingers brushing yours as he takes the glass. “And take these, too.”

He makes a face as he takes the pills from you, wincing as he swallows. “I hate being sick.”

You shake your head at the big suck he’s turned into, reaching out to brush his hair from his forehead. “I know, baby.”

The rest of the evening is spent waiting on Frankie, and you go full nurse-mode on him. A box of tissues is left on the coffee table, along with more lozenges, a bottle of water, and a cup of tea with honey. When he starts coughing again, you find a tub of vapour-rub, and order his shirt off, perching on the coffee table again so you can smear the stuff on his chest. It helps some; you can feel his breathing even out a bit beneath your hands, his lungs less rattle-y against his ribs.

He whines when you take your hands off of him, and you settle onto the couch instead, pulling his head into your lap while you find something to watch on Netflix. One hand still rubs at his chest, the vapour-rub long absorbed, but every time you try and stop, he nudges at your arm, makes some unintelligible noise, begging you to continue.

“How was your day?” he asks, his voice a little nasally, sniffing loudly as you hand him a tissue.

You tell him about your day at work, launching into a story about your coworkers. You ramble a bit; usually you two have a big, long chat over dinner, which usually cascades out onto the couch after you’re finished tidying up, so you have lots to say. And you keep rubbing at his chest, his skin hot against your palm, his head rising and falling with your breaths.

You’ve been talking for nearly twenty minutes, and you realize he hasn’t said a word. He started out with quiet affirmations he was listening, uh-huhs and oh reallys interjected every so often, but it’s a been a while since you heard one.

“Frankie?” you say softly, not wanting to wake him if he’s asleep. “Honey, should I stop talking? Why don’t we get you to bed, hmm?”

“Don’t,” he rasps, turning over onto his stomach, burying his face in your lap. Your hand moves to his hair, curls sliding around your knuckles. “Your voice is very soothing.”

“Oh, is it?” you ask, smiling as you move your hand through his hair, making a little moan fall out of him. “I’m sure it would be even more soothing in bed.”

He shakes his head against you. “Don’t wanna move.”

“How about the shower?” you ask, and his head perks up instantly, sleepy eyes blinking at you.

“You gonna join me?” he asks, and you laugh.

“Yes, Fish,” you reply, ruffling his hair. “Don’t trust you to stay upright without me.”

It’s the fastest he’s moved all evening, kicking off the blanket and waiting for you to stand up. He wobbles a bit as he gets to his feet, and you fit yourself under his arm, leading him down the hall to the bathroom.

He looks dead on his feet as you shuffle him into the shower, the spray nearly as hot as it’ll go, filling the bathroom with steam. You strip yourself quickly, pulling the curtain back into place. Frankie slips his arms around your waist as soon as you’re within reach, leaning his head into your chest, his back pressed to the cold tile.

“Comfortable?” you ask, angling yourself so he’s not getting sprayed directly in the face. He nods into your collar, and you sigh as you feel his hands slip lower, palming your ass as he pulls you a little closer. “Frankie.”

“Huh?” he mumbles, kissing at your collarbone. “What, baby?”

“You’re sick,” you say, coming your fingers through his wet hair, slicking it back over his head.

“But I need you,” he almost whines, head moving up so he can suck at the skin of your neck. “Always need you, even when I feel like shit.” He pauses, wrenches his head up and coughs towards the wall. “Especially when I feel like shit.”

“Breathe deep,” you tell him, rubbing your other hand up and down his back. “The steam will help.”

He fits his face back against your neck, hands roaming your body again, and you can’t help but lean into his touch a little. He knows your body better than you do, knows where to squeeze and caress in just the right way, sending sparks of heat to your core.

You feel him twitch against your thigh, and you can’t help yourself, moving your and around from his back, down his arms, over his stomach. He groans in your ear as you skim your fingers along his waist, over the curve of his stomach, and he twitches again, cock filling at your attention.

He squeezes your ass again, his other hand reaching between your legs, but you push him away. “Baby—” he starts to protest, nose still buried in your throat.

“I’m taking care of you, remember?” you mumble against his hair, kissing the crown of his head. “Let me.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll take care of myself later,” you say, revelling in the gasp that slips from his throat as your fingers close around his cock. “I’ll let you watch.”

He groans into your throat, arm going tight as anything around your waist. You stroke him slow, bringing your hand to your mouth after a moment and licking a stripe up your palm. He groans louder when you touch him again, your spit and the water easing your movements, making him pulse in your hand. You curl your fingers tight, thumb riding the thick vein along the underside of him, and he whimpers into your neck, clawing tighter at your waist, pushing his hips into your hand.

You know his body just as well as he knows yours.

You move your other hand to the base of his neck, fingers still knotted in your hair and tug lightly, just enough that you can press your lips to his forehead. “You gonna cum for me, Frankie?”

“Uh-huh,” he breathes out, nearly stuttering the response as you push him back slightly, until his back is flush against the tile again. You pump him fast and hard, just like he likes, thumb swiping against his sensitive head on every upstroke. “Fuck, baby, please.”

“Take it, Fish,” you whisper, holding him close, your hand moving faster on his cock. “C’mon, baby, wanna make you feel good.”

“Feels so good,” he groans out and pushes his head back as he cums, ropes of white spurting onto your stomach, over your knuckles, dripping onto his thighs. He stutters out your name as he goes, head tipped back against the tile, eyes rolling back in his head. You stroke him through it, savouring every sound he makes, the heat and pressure between your own legs pulsing in time to your heartbeat. Later.

You only slow when he starts to whine, one hand pushing at your own. You tug him beneath the water again, letting the hot spray wash you both clean, and he fits himself against you, hand roaming your body once more.

“You’re so good to me, baby,” he mumbles into your neck. “So fucking good to me.”

#sleepover saturday #my fics #frankie morales #frankie morales fic #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales headcanon #frankie morales smut #frankie morales fluff #triple frontier #triple frontier fic

[borrowing-at-midnight]

You Look Like Hell

You knew better than to leave the walls and go outside in the winter. Despite being hotter than balls the rest of the year, Texas managed to get surprisingly freezing during the couple months it takes a break from acting like one giant oven. When you’d felt how cold it was, you should've turned back. But no, of course not. You just had to get what you wanted. It could've waited, the repairs you wanted to work on weren't urgent, but you're stubborn so of course you didn't wait. Now, you were paying the price.

Over the past five days, it's been getting harder and harder to breathe. It’s not your chest that hurts, thankfully, but your throat and head are killing you. You can't stop coughing. You wish you could, but every time you inhale, your throat dries up and forces you into another coughing fit. The few lozenges that were stashed away for this occasion had been used up the first day and a half of this torture.

You don't know what to do anymore. You can't get to sleep, everything hurts, there's no more supplies for this.

You need Schlatt.

Usually, you avoid asking Schlatt for help. It's not that you don't get along with him, quite the opposite. He leaves things out on the counter for you, you take them, and both of you pretend it doesn't happen. He'll never say it, but he enjoys having you around. If he didn't, you doubt he would’ve offered to bring you with him when he moved south. You'd gotten too accustomed to his extra help back in New York to decline that proposition.

When you eventually force yourself to get out of your bed and make the journey to the kitchen, you try to use the old memories of you and Schlatt to distract you on the way.

You hug your blanket around yourself tightly, too miserable to care about it dragging behind you. Twenty grueling minutes later, you can see the light pouring into the wall’s tunnel. You sigh, sending yourself into another coughing fit, before dredging along the last short distance left. Hobbling out onto the counter, you hear the fridge close and Schlatt scoff, clearly catching sight of you.

“Fuck’s wrong with you?”

You would've laughed if it wouldn't induce more coughing. “Snow.” Apparently speaking hurts as well.

“Snow, huh? That clearly worked out well for you. Nice going.”

As your eyes adjust to the light, you see him looming over you. His hands are planted a foot away on either side, arms leading up, up, up to his face which is nearly straight above you. To save the energy, you carefully slump onto your back and wrap your blanket around you. “Are you gonna help or not?” You croak.

Schlatt’s lips curl into a sly grin. “Not with that attitude. Can't a man get some appreciation around here?” Despite his words, he's already moving away from you and begun digging through the medicine cabinet.

Gratefully, you accept a freshly shattered lozenge, immediately popping a piece into your mouth for a little bit of sweet relief.

“You look like hell, have you had any DayQuil today?”

You flop your head side to side. “Ran out yesterday. Didn't have any NyQuil to begin with.”

Schlatt sighs as he leans down to carefully measure a miniscule amount of medicine into a thimble. “You know, you should use my help more often. I don't like the thought of you going without essentials.” He places the thimble down next to you, then turns to the fridge and pulls out some orange juice.

“Aw, does Schlatt care for the itsy bitsy-” Your sentence is interrupted by a coughing fit due to your attempt at sitting up.

“Get fucked.” Schlatt chuckles as he pours a shot glass of juice and sets it beside the thimble, which he nudges closer to you. He leans on the counter, arms crossed. “I'm just saying. I don't get why you insist on taking care of yourself. It's gotta be dangerous, right?”

You take the thimble and take a big gulp of it, setting it aside quickly so you can chase it with the OJ. “Of course it's dangerous, but I've been doing this my whole life. I just… I know how busy you are. You don't gotta worry about me, big man.”

“I'd worry about you less if you weren't on your own.” He mumbles.

“I'll tell you what. I'll stay out here until I'm better, and then we'll see about me hanging out out here more often.”

Schlatt tries to suppress his smile from taking over his face, but the way his eyes light up betrays his cool demeanor. “Alright, it's a deal. C'mon, I'll get you set up in my room.”

He stands up to his full height, a movement that you doubt you'll ever get used to, as it sends shivers down your spine. His massive hand settles next to you. Not wanting to keep him waiting, you drape your blanket over you like a cape, push yourself to your feet, and waddle your way over to his open palm. You don't have to look up to know there's a smirk plastered on Schlatt’s face as you sit cross legged in the center of his hand.

“Ready?”

“Never am.”

Schlatt chuckles and curls his thumb into his palm to give you a bit more security, then lifts his hand up to his chest and starts walking. “You know I'd never drop you.” This close to his chest, his words rumble around you. It's… surprisingly comforting.

“First time we met you covered me with a red solo cup.” You joke, a smile growing on your face. “I don't know jack shit when it comes to you.”

“Hey, that was years ago. I didn't know what you were.”

“You could've at least used an empty cup.”

“It wasn't even that much! I wasted my Kool-aid on you, and I had to clean it up after. I feel like I’m definitely the one who’s been wronged here.” He snickers as he enters his bedroom and reaches into his closet to pull out a long empty shoe box.

“So sorry for making you dump your drink on me, I'll do better next time.” You roll your eyes.

Schlatt drops the box onto his bed, then suddenly pinches you between his thumb and index finger in order to lift you and place you on his pillow. Your heart drops to your feet and you gasp. You don't usually mind, as it makes things quicker, but he enjoys catching you off guard with it as much as he can. As expected, he's trying to suppress a grin.

“Douchebag.”

As if on cue, he’s already pulled a box cutter from his bedside drawer and clicks it open, pointing it at you first. “Watch your mouth, bitch.” He grins and grabs the shoebox, sinking the blade into the side of it. You watch curiously as he works.

It doesn't take more than a few seconds before he turns the box to show you what seems to be a you-sized doorway carved into the side. He looks proud. “So that the cats can't get to you.”

You smile sleepily. “Good thinking… thank you.”

“Alright, let's get you some rest, huh?” Schlatt takes a moment to look around the room for something to use as bedding, and spots a clean washcloth. He grabs it, folds it in half twice, and opens the shoebox to place it in the corner before turning to scoop you up from his pillow. “I swear I'll work on a better setup, but it'll do for now, eh?” He allows you to scoot off of his hand on your own this time.

When you lay down on the cloth, you can't help but notice how this is already far better than your matchbox setup inside the walls, padded with tissue that you did your best to replace once a month. It must be evident on your face, because Schlatt chuckles and places the lid back on the box.

“I'll take that as a yes.” His voice may be muffled by the box, but it's still all enveloping. “If you want the lid off during the night I can keep the cats out of the room, but only because you're sick. Don't start thinkin’ you're above Jambo, pipsqueak.”

“I would never.” You're already drifting off, sprawled out across the soft, plush cloth.

You can hear him smiling as he speaks, walking out of the room. “Sweet dreams, idiot.”

#am i thinking about the entire timeline of schlatt and this borrower knowing eachother? #absolutely i am #i have ideas #plans perhaps #schlatt #jschlatt #gt writing #gt #g/t #sfw g/t #g/t fluff #giant/tiny #giant tiny #borrower reader #reader insert #borrowers #youtuber g/t #sickfic #jschlatt gt #jschlatt g/t #schlatt gt #schlatt g/t

[rebelliousstories]

Hot Cocoa

25 Days of Ficmas

Realationship: Tom “Iceman” Kazansky x Reader

Fandom: Top Gun/Top Gun: Maverick

Request: No

Warnings: Light Angst, Fluff, Talks about illness, cancer, and death

Word Count: 1,802

Masterlist: Here

Top Gun Masterlist: Here

Summary: Tom just received bad news about his throat. He’s holed himself away in his office, but his wife won’t stand for that behavior.

Sometimes a cough isn’t a cough. Sometimes it’s just a little tickle in your throat because you didn’t know that you were allergic to pollen until too late. And just sometimes, it was cancerous tumors that made their home on your throat. Then when you get the diagnosis, you sit in the office with your wife, completely dumbfounded and unable to process what this means for your future. You have to figure out a way to tell your kids, co workers, bosses. Your whole life can flip upside down when a cough isn’t a cough.

As the holidays got closer, and the cold air came in, Tom’s cough got worse. The cold air would hit it and send him into a coughing fit. He was worried about this getting worse, and it seemed the universe wanted him to have to try and explain away every cough at work. He was getting tired of constantly having a throat lozenge in his mouth to quell the pain in his throat. And all the tea he drank only lasted a little bit on his throat. It had been a long couple of months since the diagnosis, but it felt like a lifetime. However, the daily medications and special treatments, miraculously, had him cleared up by Christmas that year. They didn’t have to tell his coworkers the truth yet, the kids and bosses were all happy that it had finally gone away. If only it had been for good.

Two years later, it came back. This time worse, instead of just resting in his throat, it started targeting his vocal chords. Daily medications started yet again, the special treatments and even surgery were back on, as much as he hated it. But it would be worth it if it meant he was able to continue life as normal. This time, it was almost a year of that kind of treatment to clear up the illness in his throat. But still it cleared up, and Tom was just glad to be able to speak at Christmas.

He went in for his six month scan for the cancer returning, and was fine. Nothing showed up out of the ordinary. But that next six month scan; it couldn’t have come at worse time. His kids were flying in to see their parents for Christmas when he received the news. This more than likely would not go away easily, and even then, it was a gamble if it would stay away or if he would succumb to the ailment. When he got home that day, Tom went straight past where his wife was greeting him, and into his office. She didn’t push it, opting instead to finish dinner. But when he ignored her call for dinner, then his phone for messages, she knew something was wrong. Tom was never the type of man to start up ignore anyone, let alone his wife.

So, she made his plate, put it on a tray and went to his office. She knocked gently, and received two knocks back. When she got inside, it was a somber scene. Tom sat at his desk, with his hand gently massaging his throat. In front of him were papers that he was studying intensely, but she couldn’t tell what they were. Mrs. Kazansky made her way to the desk where her husband sat, and set the tray down with his dinner. When she turned to leave, she saw the name of the hospital at the top of the papers that were in his grasp. But she didn’t call any attention to them; she simply pressed a kiss to her husband’s head and left the room to call their children down for dinner.

He knew she saw the hospital papers. But he was thankful that she didn’t mention anything about them to him. Not yet. He looked over at the plate of food she had left for him, still steaming. After being married so many years, they still understood each other better than themselves did. And right now, he was more glad than ever for that. The food went down nicely, and provided him some comfort while he tried to wrap his head around the news he was given. Tom heard his family downstairs, laughing and talking as they had done for their entire lives. But he couldn’t join them; he just couldn’t get into the mood. He didn’t know how long he sat there after dinner. Long enough that he heard the conversation dwindle down and his kids ask their mom if they could come say goodnight to him. That brought a smile to his face, and it only widened when his children came to his office. He flipped the papers over as fast as he could so they didn’t have to look at the words scribbled on it, spelling out his fate.

His wife was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t see her with the kids, or even shortly afterwards. Tom watched the clock as he waited to see if his wife was coming. About twenty minutes after his kids bid him goodnight, Tom started to get up to go in search of his wife when the door to his office opened yet again. There she was, with another tray in her hands, but this time it wasn’t food on it; they were mugs. As she got closer he could see the mini marshmallows that were piled high on the mugs, and the cookies next to them.

“You know,” she began as she set the tray down, “the last time you were in here this long without coming to dinner, was when I was pregnant the first time, and you were still flying planes.” She passed a mug to her husband, who accepted, and patted his leg in a silent invitation. She took it, wrapped her arms around Tom, and grabbed her own mug.

“I’m sorry if I worried you, dear. Just… lost in though I guess.” He took a sip from the mug. Hot chocolate. She always made hot chocolate this time of year, only switching it for the occasional tea for a warm, mugged beverage.

“Oh, I’m not worried about you sitting here alone for hours on end. I know you’re still in the house which is good. If you were doing this at the base, that’s when I’d worry. So tell me what’s up, Tom. Something is clearly bothering you.” Her gentle caress on his cheek made him close his eyes briefly, relishing in this moment. The man breathed in deeply, let out a sigh, and leaned forward to flip over the papers on his desk. There was a beat of silence.

“So what’s bothering you, Ice?” She asked once again, looking towards her husband and never towards the papers. He was confused for a few minutes.

“The papers are right there.” He pointed out, but she just smiled sweetly at him.

“I know. But I don’t want to read about it from some impersonal piece of paper. I want to know what’s going on with my husband from my husband.” His wife took another sip from her mug. Tom took a minute to gather his thoughts, trying desperately to put into words what he was feeling.

“It’s back. And they don’t think I’ll get out of this unscathed like the last times.” He paused to cough loudly, while his wife grabbed his mug so he wouldn’t spill it. Tom was finally able to recover from the coughing fit and popped a lozenge into his mouth. The unique taste of the lozenge flooded his tongue and traveled down his throat, soothing it enough that he could continue. However his voice was obviously straining at this point.

“I’m worried what this… will mean for me. I’m scared, honey. This isn’t like last time. It’s so much worse and the only thing we can do is go along with it.” Tom had to pause every few words because of the strain on his voice, but to was worth it to him. He didn’t know how much longer he was going to be able to talk to his wife, so he had to take every opportunity and make them count.

“Tom, you are the strongest man I know. I mean you have to be to put up with Maverick’s crap all these years.” This sent the couple into a chuckle, knowing very well that Tom had the patience of a saint sometimes pulling Maverick out of some pretty sticky situations.

“But listen to me,” her mug was set aside in favor of cradling his face, “Thomas ‘Iceman’ Kazansky. You don’t back down from a challenge. And you certainly don’t give up. We both knew that it could get to this point, we just hoped it wasn’t going to. Yes, the only thing we can do now is go along with whatever the doctors say. But we just need to take this day by day, hour by hour, and even minute by minute. We’ll call and see what our options are, or if you already have an option I’ll support you. That’s what we do in a marriage. I’m always going to be in your corner.” Tears steadily flowed down his cheeks, and he buried his head in her neck. She pressed kiss after kiss into his hair, and caressed his head and shoulders while he worked through all the emotions that filled him. After a few minutes, he pulled away and gazed up at his wife’s face. Gently, Tom pulled her down and pressed a kiss to her lips.

“Thank you.” He rasped out, resting his head against hers. She smiled down at him.

“Of course, Tommy.” After a moment, she grabbed their mugs and placed his in his hands. Tom took a sip of his still warm drink gladly.

“This is really good. Have I ever told you about the time that Mav and I were stationed overseas for the holidays one year and he managed to make hot chocolate from stuff he found in the kitchen, just because I was missing yours that time?” He asked, keeping his voice low so it didn’t strain too much. Of course he had told her this story before, but in lieu of the circumstances she shook her head.

“No. What happend?” And that got Admiral Tom “Iceman” Kazansky talking about the one Christmas he wasn’t in the country and Maverick was trying everything he could to cheer him up. For the rest of the evening, up until they went to sleep, Tom was telling stories left and right, voice permitting. It was a low volume storytelling, but his wife was just glad to hear his voice while she had the chance. And hot cocoa always makes the throat feel better, no matter if it’s Christmas or not.

#rebelliousstories #writing #top gun imagine #top gun #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick #tom iceman kazansky #tom kazansky #iceman x reader #iceman fanfiction #iceman val kilmer #tom kazansky imagine #iceman imagine #25 days of ficmas #25 days of christmas

[foliosriot]

How does Nick R take care of you when you’re sick, or look after you in general while he’s on tour and you’re at home?

oh god that boy cares about you so fucking much but does not want to come off as overbearing or annoying so he gives you a few gentle reminders over the phone to get yourself feeling better

whether that’s taking a nice bath, making some nice herbal tea, taking a couple lozenges, whatever — he just wants you to take care of yourself even if it’s a little difficult bc you haven’t been feeling very well

he would definitely send a daily text to make sure you had taken your meds, gotten in the shower, eaten, etc. and if you haven’t, he’ll give you another gentle reminder and just hope that you do whatever it is that you needed to do

also!! if you need him to, he will 110% stay on facetime with you if you can’t sleep like-

head hurts too bad? can’t breathe cuz your sinuses are too stuffy? throat hurts like a bitch?

he’s right there on facetime with you, baby, just keeping an eye on you so you can hopefully get to sleep knowing he’s there to some degree

#nicholas ruffilo #nicholas ruffilo headcanons #bad omens #bad omens headcanons #𖤐 #𖤐: asks

[tracybirds]

Could you do Gordon with speechless?

I can!!! I got a little stuck last night because I wanted to sprinkle in a bit of humour for the sunshine boy, so I hope I pulled it off okay!! Thank youuuu this was a lot of fun to write :D

---

“It’s quiet today,” said Alan, putting down his game.

Kayo shrugged, idly flipping the pages of her magazine. “Scott and Virgil took Grandma to the mainland, remember?”

“Yeah,” said Alan. “But even so… where’s Gordon?”

“Is he not downstairs? I thought he said yesterday that he’d make cupcakes for Brains’ birthday if we didn’t get any callouts?”

Alan reached out and tapped the comm.

“Gordon? You around?”

There was no answer.

He tried again.

Nothing.

Without a word, Alan leapt up and hurried down the stairs.

“He’s not here,” he called back to Kayo, his voice floating up from the room below.

“Then leave him alone, he’s probably busy.”

“But Kayo, all the baking stuff is out.”

Kayo sat up, trying to quell the small voice inside her that helpfully supplied all the possible ways Gordon could be whisked away from the island without her notice.

She ran swiftly to join Alan, opening a line to John as she went.

“John, can you run a bioscan? Gordon’s fallen off our radar.”

“Working,” said John instantly. “Did you try ping him already?”

“Alan got no response,” Kayo confirmed. “And he’s not likely to ignore it for a laugh after the last time.”

“Life signs in the hangar and in the medbay.”

“No prizes for guessing who is who,” muttered Kayo. “And there’s no other signs of life?”

“Not human at least.”

“You don’t think that’s a little paranoid?” asked Alan.

“No,” they said together.

“Hurry up,” called Kayo as John flickered out of view. “Medbay means Gordon’s hiding something; let’s just hope he didn’t cut anything off.”

***

“I’m fine,” protested Gordon, his voice drawn up out of his throat like a holey straw. “It’s just a little scrape in my throat and I needed to restock the lozenges in my bathroom.”

Kayo folded her arms in front of her chest, staring him down.

“Kayo, I swear,” he croaked. “Do not tell Virgil.”

Alan snorted.

“She wouldn’t have to if there was nothing to tell.”

Gordon opened his mouth to argue, but little more than a hoarse wheeze escaped him.

Kayo cocked her head. “Sorry, Gordon, what was that?”

A frustrated whine was the only response.

“That sounded like he thinks you should talk to Virgil,” said Alan, smiling brightly and dodging the half-hearted swipe at his shoulder. “Maybe even Grandma!”

Gordon glared, unable to respond.

“Not. Funny.” he mouthed.

“Sorry, Gordon, you have to speak up,” said Kayo, trying to hold in her own laughter. “We can’t hear you.”

“Maybe you need hearing aids? That’s more likely than Gordon losing his voice, don’t you think?”

Gordon slammed his hand on the table and pointed emphatically at Alan.

“Me…?”

Gordon pointed again, nodding furiously.

“Okay then, I’m what?”

Gordon flipped him off, glaring as they both laughed even harder.

A loud beep cut through the levity as Kayo’s comm sounded.

“I assume you found him?” asked John drily. “All in one piece?”

“John, they’re being mean,” said Gordon, straining to form even a whisper.

“What? What was that? Kayo did you say something? My receiver needs a wire realigned or something, you’re very quiet.”

Alan hooted and danced out of reach and Gordon tried to tackle him in response.

“Gordon’s a little tongue-tied at the moment, John,” said Kayo, still grinning. “He tried to be stubborn and I’d say that backfired spectacularly, wouldn’t you agree, Alan?”

“Absolutely,” said Alan. “What are you always saying, Gords? The joke’s in the timing?”

Gordon glared.

“So’s the revenge.”

[feel free to send me a prompt plus a character!]

#gordon tracy #alan tracy #kayo kyrano #sometimes i fic #thunderbirds are go #wheee I'm loving working through these :D #anon you're up next I think bc I know EXACTLY how I wanna answer yours :D #fanfic 🥰 #gordon 💛 #alan ❤ #kayo 🖤 #2015

[jlilycorbie]

Didn't See Any of This Coming

Late at night on Thursday, October 19, I drove myself to the emergency room. I fully expected to be treated and released, and after I saw triage just barely after midnight, it looked like exactly what would happen.

Instead, my entire life changed.

I went in for an abscess in an embarrassing location, which shouldn't have stopped me from seeking treatment earlier, but absolutely did. I figured they'd open and drain it, put me on some IV antibiotics, then send me on my way with a prescription for oral antibiotics. And for a while, that looked like exactly what would happen.

At least, until someone came into the room to ask me, "Are you diabetic?"

"Not as far as I know," I said.

"Did you know your blood sugar is 330?"

I've known for a long time things weren't great with my health, but I didn't see that one coming. Honestly, I was hoping whatever was wrong would kill me, preferably painlessly and in my sleep, within the next five to ten years.

That was already my first trip to the ER as an adult. What followed were a lot more firsts.

First IV.

First person who has seen my butt as an adult (a number that unfortunately kept climbing).

First CT scan.

First minor surgery (lidocaine is weak, I felt almost all of it).

First admission to a hospital.

First time taking insulin.

First major surgery under general anesthesia.

First time receiving fentanyl (or any opioid). After all the hype on the news, I thought that should be good, and instead it did absolutely nothing. Found out afterward that my dad and grandfather both got morphine a few times after surgery or in the ER for injuries and it did nothing for either of them. Just my luck to come up with chronic pain and a resistance to opioids.

I've suspected for a while that I have an autoimmune disorder, though I don't know which one. And a collagen disorder, probably EDS, but not sure which one. I've heard all the nightmare stories about fighting for diagnosis, so it was a little unsettling to mention autoimmune disorders and have every single medical professional say, "Yeah, that sounds right." Or to do my stupid human tricks (bending fingers and moving my trachea only, I never got far) and have people immediately go, "Yup, that's a collagen disorder."

Also, surprise! I have a heart murmur.

Shout out to my liver and kidneys, apparently the only organs in my body quietly doing their jobs without any drama.

The following days were frustrating. Everyone was eager to explain what diabetes is to me, but not what I needed to do. People kept mentioning that I had a sliding scale for my insulin, but no one would tell me what that meant. A diabetes educator would be coming to my room to explain it to me, so they didn't need to tell me anything.

After surgery, I never saw the surgeon again. No followup of any kind. Also absolutely no pain management. Before surgery, someone would occasionally offer me Tylenol. Afterward, I didn't even get that. It's apparently acceptable to leave a patient in so much pain she doesn't sleep for more than 36 hours, and after the 24 hour mark, you can offer melatonin.

Honestly, I don't think Tylenol would have helped, but a few throat lozenges would have made a huge difference in my world.

No one ever really explained or showed me how to care for the open wound left after surgery. The wound is located somewhere that is very difficult for me to see or reach, especially both at once. One person told me, "Just take a corner of gauze and poke, poke, poke it into the hole, but not too far, because you don't want to make the wound worse." When a nurse pointed out the difficulty of seeing the location, wound care sent a hand mirror smaller than my palm.

The doctor gave discharge orders, but the nurse at the time didn't want to let me go because the diabetes educator still hadn't come. I didn't know exactly when to take my blood sugar or insulin or how much to take. Because no one would tell me. So the nurse talked me into staying an extra night.

The doctor and several nurses also said someone with the hospital's social services would come talk to me about handling the bill and about getting a primary care physician because after 12 years without one, I can't keep not going to a doctor.

Neither the diabetes educator nor anyone from social services ever came to my room. I finally got a frustrated nurse to explain the sliding scale for insulin to me and when I should take my blood sugar and when I should take insulin. The next nurse diligently avoided me at all times until she announced I was getting discharged, better get ready. I stayed an extra night for literally no reason, for help that never came.

A pharmacist called me to tell me the doctor had ordered a glucometer and some other supplies for me, but my insurance had a really high copay on them, and she wanted me to know that I could buy them way cheaper on my own if I'd like to do that. When she found out that no one had explained most things to me, she was outraged. She spent a long time on the phone with me, explaining everything that she could. Bless that woman. I've told everyone who would listen her name and that she was so helpful when I was desperate and alone.

I got discharged just like that. I didn't get any written aftercare instructions from my surgery. I still don't know if I'm caring appropriately for my wound. I have a followup scheduled for three weeks after my discharge. I have since reached out, and people will apologize, but no one will give me the information I need.

I left the hospital terrified and confused. I'm used to figuring things out on my own, but the repeated promises of help that never came almost broke me completely.

I got two different types of insulin in reusable pens. No one had shown me that type of pen or how to use them. I had to figure it out by myself after I was home.

After I got home, someone from social services did call me. I had an appointment for the next day with a diabetes educator...who heard about me for the very first time after I was discharged, when social services called him and he immediately arranged an appointment for me.

Also, no one ever told social services they needed to talk to me about anything. They arranged an appointment with a primary care physician. It was written in my discharge paperwork, but no one told me.

The diabetes educator was actually pretty helpful. Turns out I'd gotten about half the information I needed about when and how to take my insulin. Since he gave me a different sliding scale and more instructions, I've actually kept my blood sugar consistently under 150, and mostly between 110 and 135.

I did tell him that the last time I saw a doctor, he dismissed all of my concerns to pressure me to join his high intensity weight loss program. At the time, I weighed around 300 lbs. I figured before I could get real help, I needed to wait until I was old enough, thin enough, or sick enough for people to take me seriously, and in the 12 years since then, I've done my best to take care of myself. When I arrived in the ER, I weighed 208 lbs. I was the sickest and most miserable I've ever been.

He told me he expects me to lose at least 20 lbs by the next time I see him.

#medical #medical horror #frustrating #cw weight loss talk #I would say I'm doing ok but I'm still frustrated and scared

[yandereshingeki]

Hii againn :)

I’m sorry you’re feeling so bad TT, I had Covid (I’ve only just gotten over it), it made me throw up it was awful, but I also had a horribly sore throat for a few days after, I saw the warm orange thingy on TikTok and decided to try it and it actually helped!

You might’ve tried it yourself but I’m sending this just incase you haven’t TT, I can give you the recipe if you wanted to give it a try yourself 🫶🏻

Also, while I had a sore throat the first few days it was painfully dry and no amount of water helped unless I was constantly drinking it, so if you experience that then I recommend some hard sweets so suck on so they can moisturise your throat :))

I Hope you feel better soon 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Sincerely a very scared anon ~~ 😗

p.s ~ I want to build my own pc as well but still have no idea where to start 😔😔

p.p.s ~ some hugs and kisses for good health 🫂🫂🫂 💋💋💋

I HAVEN’T TRIED THE WARM ORANGE thank you, we dont have any oranges so i might ask a non sick family member to go out and get one for me 😭 I’ll gladly take the recipe if you have it!!

also im so sorry you had covid ;; I had covid like that too awhile back where i had a horribly sore and dry throat and I was in struggle mode 😭 constant lozenges every couple hours were all that helped.. speaking of I might steal one from my mom in a bit

I’m glad you’ve gotten over it though!! hopefully you feel much better than before, I know that relief must be amazing

(Also real 😞 pc building is so difficult, I’m barely beginning to understand what good specs are and i have no idea how to even begin finding compatible parts that fit my needs)

#I am kissing your cheek thru a mask so i dont get you sick again ❤️❤️ thank u sm for the tips tho im gonna try them #hopefully ill be good before i have to work on friday again 😭 #forests mailbox #very scared anon

[daisynik7]

my lovely daisy, i’m so so so happy to hear you’re feeling better already, and while i’ve never vocalized it before i would like to thank you and clarify that you’re sweet replies + messages to me are kept close and well loved. and i appreciate you <3

it’s actually obnoxious how big i’m smiling to hear how you’ve become more comfortable with sharing parts of you at your pace and having garnered a community of lovely people to support, and i absolutely love it here!!! i would lie to clarify the obvious, to never feel pressured to reveal any part of yourself if you’re not comfortable! 

as for home remedies, not much i can recall. if i had a sore throat my dad would make me a lemon tea with honey, i think that was just his own concoction, but there is a herbal tea using a citron marmalade (yuja-cha/ 유자차) that might be a point of reference, but we usually add that to sparkling water. also Ricola lozenges, i was raised by those lol.

all i can say is heavy on the citrus, herbs, and honey. also this is something i do even when i’m not sick but cold, i just put a fluffy blanket in the dryer for a few minutes (no dryer sheet) and just proceed to melt into my blankets.

and lastly for your weekend send off, more kisses, hugs, and more soup, tea + water!!! get lots of sleep give your body the rest it need !!! ily 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

beautiful thea! I'll never get tired of saying it: I appreciate you so so much, beyond words can even describe! I'm not as eloquent as you when it comes to expressing myself, so I'm glad my replies are well-received. :)

it's taken a while for me to feel comfortable with myself on here, but I'm happy to say that I finally am, thanks to the little community I've been so kindly adopted into, which includes loving and supportive people like you. I had to work on myself and my own insecurities for a bit for me to get here, but I'm happy I am.

my mom would also make me lemon tea with honey! sometimes she'd add ginger for an extra kick. the yuja-cha with sparking water sounds like a wonderful little drink, even if you're not sick hehe. And yes! Ricola was also a staple in my household. my personal fave was the lemon flavored one, just because the mountain herb was WAY too strong for my taste. thank you for sharing!

Snuggling into a warm blanket is the epitome of being cozy! I'm going to do that tonight so I can fall fast asleep. 😴

I hope you have a fun and/or relaxing weekend ahead of you! sending you all my love as always, thank you for thinking of me!

#my lovely thea #lovely moots #I'm going to start a little scrapbook of all your sweet messages I swear 🥹

[braindeadmaggot]

For the SFW ship ask thingy: Chopper x Bepo

SFW version (get the template here)

1. Who is the grumpiest in the morning?

BEPO - well, technically neither but Bepo can get pretty cranky when he wakes up sweaty 🥵 Chopper is the same but because of his smaller stature, he doesn't get overheated like Bepo.

2. Who worries more when the other is sick/hurt?

CHOPPER - Absolutely Chopper. 10,000% everyday. You have an itch in your throat? He's got the lozenges. Got some stiffness in your shoulder? He's there with the menthol balm to massage it away. Feeling a bit dizzy and lightheaded? He's got a bowl of mixed nuts and dry fruit for you to bring up your blood sugar. If that doesn't work he'll perform the Semont Maneuver on you to reset the crystals in your ears (< I do this often for my mom because she has chronic vertigo)

3. Who plays pranks on the other?

BEPO - it's not very often but on the days they're both feeling playful and they're just goofing off, Bepo will hide behind doors and around corners and jump scare Chopper. Chopper tries to do it back but it ends up being soooooo cute, Bepo can't help but snuggle him to death. Sometimes Chopper will try out one of Usopp's pranks on Bepo but it's usually a failure but Bepo pretends like it worked because c'mon.

4. Who is always the first to suggest cuddling on the sofa?

CHOPPER - whether it's "watch this show with me" or "let's play video games" or "we had so much fun playing in the snow, let's enjoy our hot cocoa on the sofa together" Chopper is always DTS (Down TO Snug) 🤗

5. Who insists on creating nicknames for the other?

NEITHER - They just use their names but they will call each other usually dude, bro, and man, but they also say buddy, guy, friend and pal just as often (think the Canadians in South Park since they're both Canadian ya know 🤣 unless Oda-sensei reveals Bepo to be Russian in our world, then he'll call Chopper his comrade)

6. Who says ‘I love you’ first?

CHOPPER - He says this on December 25th because Bepo is the only one to give him both birthday AND Christmas gifts and all of them were really cool and amazing and exactly what he needed. Bepo is very thoughtful and Chopper was so moved that he just blurted it out. Bepo was flabbergasted at first because it was in front of all their friends too and he couldn't help but say it back due to the pressure. The perfect bro-mance 🤝

7. Who’s the messiest one?

BEPO - Chopper's medical background forces him to be super tidy and sterile. He puts everything back where it belongs in its special place and cleans up after himself right away. Bepo on the other hand is an artist and while he is organized with his supplies, he creates a huge mess while he works and usually lets crap lie around for a few days before actually picking it up (Captain Procrastinate)

8. Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA?

BEPO - Bepo is very bashful and when he sees Chopper being cute he can't help but blush his face off 😳 So when Chopper gives him treats, thanks him wholeheartedly and (especially) says 'I love you', he panics and becomes an utter mess. He's completely smitten and his friends never let him live it down.

9. Who’s the funniest drunk?

CHOPPER - VERY low tolerance. Even though he eats a full fat, high protein, heavy carb meal before drinking, it still absorbs into his blood way too quickly and he's already scream singing karaoke and dancing with his shirt off 🕺 before he's finished his first beer ()

10. Who texts the most?

CHOPPER - MEMES. All the memes. And TikTok. Any medical pun he can find, he sends to Bepo. But sometimes he's a little too helpful and essentially MANSPLAINS every joke until it's not funny anymore but while most of Chopper's friends silently hate that (they're in a group chat, he's basically Boyle from B99) Bepo appreciates it because then he doesn't have to web search it.

11. Who has the most embarrassing taste in music?

BOTH - They both listen to dubstep, nightcore, teen pop and country rap 🤠 (except Old Town Road, that's actually really good. But Cotton Eye Joe?? NO!!!) anything that they can dance to and fun to sing at karaoke night (though everyone hates them for it, they're too cute to boo) (btw I like Cotton Eye Joe lol)

12. Who reads the most?

BOTH - Chopper reads more than Bepo but they're both reading and studying to advance their careers. Chopper is a pre-med student working on becoming a family medicine physician (Like Doctor Mike!) and Bepo is an art curator and is always brushing up on his history (lol puns), he specializes in cartography and map restoration. He draws webtoons for fun (they're about ant/arctic animals 🐺⚪🐻🦌🐧)

13. Who’s better with kids?

CHOPPER - as a family medicine physician, he'll need to work with a lot of kids and babies so he gets a lot of practice dealing with kids at his big brother's day care (can you guess who that is?) Kids make Bepo nervous but they like him all the same. They love that he's big and strong and want to climb on him, which makes his even more nervous because he doesn't want to get sued for child endangerment (Bepo also has a big brother, he's a school bus driver 🚌 [can you guess who it is???])

14. Who’s the one that fixes things around the house?

BEPO - he took shop class in high school and learned a lot there, plus he sometimes helps his big bro to do maintenance on the school buses. He's a pretty handy fella.

15. Who cooks and who cleans up?

BOTH - They both cook (they both are bad at it, but it's edible and nutritious) and they both clean up. Chopper likes to get the tidying up finished quickly or he can't relax, so Bepo pitches in without argument. They're both surprisingly really good at making desserts (they both have big sweet teeth 🧁🍧)

#tony tony chopper #bepo #one piece bepo #BrainDeadAnswers #ship meme #they're bros #best bros #bros that sleep in the same bed and call each other beautiful #🤝 #what's more bromantic than that #anon #this was fun thanks #modern au #bepper #whats a weird ship name #chopo #no not that #bepopper #lol #maybe #Bepo x Chopper #op ship meme

[grazhir]

Whelp, Covid

Finally got hit with it.

Sister-in-law came down with it. Like... Wednesday or Thursday of last week? I can't remember.

Tuesday of this week I'm busy studying. Cleaning crew also came that day. So at 5pm I head back upstairs to spend two hours with my mother.

I make a comment about the crew's cleaning materials choices, because something was bizarrely astringent/sweet in my throat and nose.

When 7 rolled around and mum went to get changed (pre-main room time), I headed back downstairs (I'm in the basement), because I couldn't stand that smell/sensation.

Got weirder over the course of the evening, but I just didn't think much of it (how stupid, right?). I did go to bed early, at like 9.30pm.

Woke up Wednesday dying, shattered glass in my head, texted up to my mother that I either had the flu or Covid, and either way, I wouldn't be up for my 8-10 time with her.

She texts me back a little later that my brother has left a Covid test in the bathroom. So I stagger off, use it, and yeah, I have Covid. Fuck.

Wednesday and Thursday was almost entirely in bed (maybe an hour twice at my laptop when I wasn't wishing I was dead), very restless dozing, fever dreams, chills, cold sweats, and for some reason my subconscious was alarmingly obsessed with Nascobol (and not even in context).

Today I feel vaguely, possibly human? Still have shattered glass and lagging around like a dying thing, but I was able to get in two mock exams, two worst category exams, etc. And I found my throat lozenges I use when my throat is irritated (from nasal drip) to try to prevent unproductive coughing. (Because yeah, my ribs ache right now.)

But as I'm sitting here this morning I hear coughing. So my brother is in his home office (which is downstairs). I text him: are you sick, now, too?

He later sends an image to a group text (him, mother, me) of a positive Covid test.

Geez.

At least I got a load of laundry done today. I feel I spent the last two days marinating in cold sweats, so I really wanted my bedding cleaned (plus the new set that arrived Thursday), my light-blocking mask...

I just had to arrange via text for my mother to be nowhere near the laundry room while I was up there (even with my washing my hands first and wearing a mask).

My bro spent all day in bed (yeah), so my mother was probably just a bit lonely today. SIL was in Boston at a conference.

#real life #covid 19

[kittenzeke]

There are things I want but I don't know how I'm going to get them. I'm OK with money for now but obviously if I am sick, I can't have Grandpa take me to do my errands.

I want a zinc supplement and something with elderberry in it to help my immune system. I know those work great for colds/flu but if it's COVID, idk. I also want a bunch of tulsi tea and some sore throat lozenges. Maybe some packs of apple cider.

I want to pay my rent on time, but I don't know if there's an option to pay it electronically. I usually have to go to the credit union and make a cashier check myself. If I do test positive for COVID, I will have to find some way of paying rent that doesn't involve Grandpa.

I would also like more groceries. I have hardly anything to eat right now. I don't have anyone I can send to shop for me. I could try ordering my groceries through an app, but that's a huge change in my routine that I find upsetting.

How am I going to get my methadone if I am sick? Just wear a mask in public? I start going back on Wednesday. I'm assuming I need to tell them if it turns out to be COVID.

I am not letting anyone turn this into an excuse to make me even more miserable, though. Methadone is critical to maintaining stability.

I don't understand why God would do this to me when I already had so much to worry about. It doesn't seem fair.

#journal #personal #covid #vent #sick #whining #autism