#(in before 'go to another pharmacy' I have to go to this one bc of the scheme I am in to get financial assistance with paying for meds)

[quaranmine]

i hate being an adult i hate money i hate bills i hate healthcare and health insurance

[obstinatecondolement]

Should finally be able to restart the most important of my meds, providing there are no further issues with supply in my pharmacy and/or the psychiatrist not calling me back.

[fantabulisticity]

Just screamed so loud in my car that both my ears rang and a spider fell from the ceiling. My throat hurts.

[taeyongruinedcitylights]

mfw its officially been 2 business days and there’s been no word from my doctor on whether she’ll send my prescription down here instead of my usual pharmacy

[ebongawk]

oooh hellcheer hc is that eddie goes into fully nurse mode whenever chrissy’s sick. she has a cold? he’s fussing over her, making soup from scratch thank you very much bc he’s actually a great cook. cramps? he buys out her favorite chocolate from the corner store, he’s got three different types of heat packs ready, he’ll massage her belly for hours if that’s what it takes to make her feel better

Here's the thing: Chrissy was never home when Eddie got out of the studio on Wednesdays.

Wednesdays were their short days. The band's self-proclaimed 'recharge' days. The midweek break they all pretended to need that they'd written into their contracts so the fucking producer wouldn't throw a fit when Jeff dipped out at eleven to go meet his girlfriend at the train station, because Marie was in Boston Saturday night through Wednesday morning for work.

Eddie usually wandered in after a fast food lunch and a grocery run around one o'clock. Chrissy wasn't even off most days until four. So when he walked in the front door and was greeted with the curdling scream of horror queen Janet Leigh on the tube?

Yeah, Eddie about had a heart attack. Like full-on hand-over-the-heart terror.

"Sorry," Chrissy croaked from the couch as she frantically turned the volume of her vintage horror flick down. Psycho. Classic. Eddie hadn't even noticed her, she was so bundled up in blankets. A Chrissy burrito that could've passed for a rumpled throw blanket. "Sorry, sorry. You came in at the worst part."

Shit, she sounded awful.

"That's my specialty," Eddie breathed, dropping the excess number of grocery bags in the foyer and tripping over his own feet to make it to her side. "What's up, buttercup? How come you're home so early?"

Shit, she looked awful. All curled up and shivering despite the throw around her shoulders and the duvet she'd dragged in from their bedroom. Eddie automatically put a hand on her forehead, hissing at the burn beneath his palm.

"Think I caught the bug that's been going around on the publishing floor," Chrissy said, covering her mouth with the throw as she talked. Trying to breathe on him as little as possible. But her sinuses were so full, he doubted she could take in any air from her nose. "Editors were next, I knew it, but everyone insisted it'd stay quarantined upstairs."

"Morons," Eddie huffed, eyes raking over her face. Her blotchy, feverish cheeks; her bloodshot eyes ringed in the purple bruises of exhaustion. Her lips were dry, and Eddie sighed, hopping up and pressing a kiss to her forehead that she protested.

"You're gonna get infected," she grumbled. Eddie just shrugged, more firmly wrapping her up in her blankets.

"Did you take anything?"

"Grabbed some cold medicine from the pharmacy that's next to the office," she said, still covering her mouth. Exhaling a couple of rough coughs into the fabric. "Probably should've eaten something, but nothing sounds good."

Her sentences were choppy and slurred, which was how Eddie knew that this was serious. Having majored in English at BU, Chrissy's articulation refined to a fucking knife's point over the years. Ready to stab anyone who looked at her with a modicum of doubt when she explained what she did for a living.

His poor little Supervising Editor.

"Alright," Eddie said, hopping to his feet and pressing another kiss to her crown – this one not quite as protested as the first – before he rounded the couch to collect the grocery haul he'd bought that was entirely inadequate for a sick Chrissy. "Lemme get some water in the kettle, yeah? I'll make you some ginger tea and run to the bodega for soup supplies."

"Love, really, I'm fine––"

"Don't you I'm fine me, Cunningham," he called from the kitchen. Even though her last name had been Munson for damn near five years now. He loved the dopey little smile she still got when he reprimanded her with her maiden name. The eye roll. The huff of, That's Munson to you, Mister.

The huff never came this time. She was too tired to argue, he knew.

He started some prep work for what they had on hand while the water heated up. Mincing up a metric fuckton of garlic, grabbing some chicken breast from the fridge, grating most of a knob of ginger. They had some frozen chicken wing tips, but Eddie wasn't sure he had the time or patience to make broth from scratch. He mentally added store bought shit to his list, along with spinach and carrots.

Once her tea was ready, Eddie departed after stealing another kiss – this one to her cheek, which she yelled at him for as well as she was able and which he laughed at when her voice broke.

Another forty-five minutes later, after hauling ass to the store and back, Eddie had soup simmering on the stove, orange juice in the fridge, and three other types of medicine lined up along the coffee table to be taken after she'd eaten.

"I should go to the bedroom," Chrissy sighed as Eddie exchanged her empty mug of tea for a glass of juice. "Give you veg space so I don't get you sick."

Eddie scoffed. He'd grabbed The Two Towers from their nightstand, carefully depositing it on the arm of the couch before gently easing Chrissy's juice from her hands. He crouched down in front of her, leveling her with as withering a stare as he could muster around the worry he could feel lining his face.

"What kind of husband do you think I am, sweetness? To abandon his queen in her most desperate times of need?" She rolled her eyes, cheeks turned up in a slight smile. Eddie grinned, reaching up to pinch her cheek. Broadening her smile as much as she was able. "My fair lady needs her noble knight's assistance now more than ever! I ain't just gonna abandon you to squalor, baby. You know better than that."

She made a little noise of distress, and Eddie knew it was because she was terrified of getting him sick. Even though he played backup to Jeff, fucking his vocals could fuck the whole timeline for their next album.

He couldn't have given less of a fuck.

Tucking the blanket more firmly around her, Eddie carefully wedged his arms under her slight body, hoisting her up with a cracked little squeal from her raw throat before settling himself lengthwise on the couch, Chrissy in his lap.

"Eddie––"

"Shh, baby," he said, grabbing the book behind him and opening up to the bookmark. Picking up where they'd left off the last time he lulled her to sleep, just the night before, when she'd still been perfectly healthy. Harboring this bit of sick down deep enough that her body was still attempting to fight it off.

His voice, she'd told him once, was her favorite lullaby.

"So it was," he began to read, "that in the light of a fair morning, King Theoden and Gandalf the White Rider met again on green grass beside the Deeping-stream."

An hour later, Chrissy was out like a light. Breathing deeply through her mouth, with a little dribble of drool spilling onto his shirt and making him chuckle. He leaned down, kissing her hair and brushing it back over her ear.

"My poor little peach," he murmured, pressing the words into her scalp. The scent of ginger and garlic wafted through the air, and Eddie knew he should extricate himself from her embrace. Slip into the kitchen and turn the stove off.

But Chrissy let out this scratchy little snore, and Eddie figured he could give her another half hour.

"Love you, sweet," he said. And by the way she hummed in her slumber, snuggling even closer against his chest until her ear was pressed right up against her heart, Eddie thought, fuck, maybe she'd heard him.

(inspo ask)

[eoieopda]

(Re-sending bc your inbox exploded) Can you write about Taehyung being the BIGGEST simp for his reader girlfriend while she’s on her period? I’m in the fetal position and this is the only thing that will help at this point. 🙏🏻 Heal me, Jade unnie 🙏🏻

oh sweet bb, i’m sorry you’re in pain! i have endometriosis, so i am very familiar with curling myself into a ball :(

(also i damn near choked to death on my sandwich at HEAL ME JADE UNNIE ☠️😂)

cw: fluff, best boy tae, period mention, there is a text but this is not a SMAU!

There was an entire king-size bed at your disposal.

Despite this, you were sitting cross-legged in the dead center of the mattress with your body slumped in half over your knees. You were exactly as uncomfortable as you looked; but folded over like the world’s angriest crêpe, you could at least pretend that you were fighting back against your uterus.

Going tit for tat with your reproductive system like this might have been petty - you acknowledged this. In fact, it might have also been absurd. But at the end of the day, you never subscribed to this menstruation bullshit in the first place. Consequently, you didn’t give a fuck if you were waging a losing war.

Besides, with your back exposed the way it was, Taehyung had a canvas. He stretched out sideways behind you because your unyielding presence in the middle of the mattress limited his options to two: the well between you and the pillows, or the floor. From that trench, his fingertips sketched invisible doodles against the fabric of your t-shirt. Hangul you couldn’t quite make out, pictures you could only guess at.

As always, his little ministrations calmed you. At any other time of the month, you would be fast asleep by now. Maybe that’s another reason why he nestled in behind you: so you’d have a warm body to lean on if your insides ever gave it a rest.

“What more can I do for you, petal?”

His murmured words snapped you out of your hypnosis.

“I could grab take-out from that new place up the street,” He continued as he sat upright, scooted closer to you.

When you unfolded yourself, his chin dropped gently down to rest on your shoulder. Never one to miss an opportunity, he placed a peck on your cheek before bumping the tip of his nose against the very same spot. He got the reaction he wanted, which was the first smile he’d seen from you all day.

You hummed in consideration. On the one hand, you couldn’t take more ibuprofen without eating; but on the other hand, he’d be gone from you for twenty (20) entire minutes. Your growling stomach answered before you did. Taehyung’s head tilted to rest against yours as he chuckled quietly.

“So, yes to the dumplings, then?” He teased as one of his hands tugged at the back hem of your shirt. At the mention of food, Yeontan stretched out of the ball he’d made of himself near your bent knee. “Do you need anything else?”

You didn’t want to ask, but it wasn’t an errand you we’re currently capable of running yourself. To be fair, you weren’t uncomfortable about asking this of him; it was what it was. You just knew how confusing this pharmacy aisle could be for people with periods; Taehyung might not stand a chance.

He expertly translated your silence, kissed your cheek again, and scooted himself to the edge of the bed. Bright white teeth glimmered at you as he grinned. They sparkled nearly as much as his eyes did when he raised his hand to his forehead in salute and declared, “I’m on it, boss!”

Your mirth was exhaled through your nose. Your concern tilted your head slightly to the side as one side of your mouth hitched up, “You sure you’re up for this mission?”

His boxy smile widened while he blinked back at you. His eyes said nope and help, respectively, but his mouth said: “I will not leave that pharmacy until the objective is completed.”

You dropped your face into your palms with more muted laughter spilling out. “Please don’t die in there,” You mumbled through your fingers, “Tannie and I would never manage without you.”

He hopped back over to deliver two more kisses - one to the top of your hung head, and the other to Yeontan’s - before heading on his way.

There were nine (9) minutes between his departure and his text.

[simonsrosebud]

“It becomes kind of a lost and found situation” MY GOD. I WANT TO KNOW MORE PRETTY PLEASE

AHHH my wish is ur command, this is the full rundown on how Andrew stumbled upon Blake and brought her and Elliot into his and Neil’s family

So Andrew waits in the shed and catches her when she opens it. Mans is bored okay let him live.

Blake drops the bike and tries to run, and promptly trips in the still wet grass from when it rained an hour before. She kinda twists her ankle and tries to run again but can’t, and Andrew tells her to get up. She’s the same height as him and all fight, yet quickly folds when reality sinks. She begs him with mud on her arms and side of the face not to call the police or her dad “I-I was just- the 24 hour pharmacy is six miles away and I can’t drive and I just needed-” she’s close to hyperventilating and starts trying to back away. And Andrew tells her to knock it off. “You do this three times a week” boom got her. “I… I work there.” “At the pharmacy” “At the checkout counter,” she scowls. “At midnight” “I have school” “Not at 4pm” “I- look, are you going to get me in trouble or not?” “Contemplating it. Tell me the truth first.”

Blake works at the 24 hour CVS at 12-4am bc she doesn’t trust leaving her brother at home when she’s not there. Night time is safe bc everyone is asleep and safe. When she tells Andrew her brother is 14 and not like 3 he tries not to assume the worst. Because of this, he gives her Neil’s ratty old bike that’s been sitting for years, pumps the tires, and drops it on the grass for her. “Petal with one foot”

I should mention that he does this not bc he feels bad about her working at 15 years old but because he can’t won’t afford to get involved. She’s not his kid, she doesn’t know him, he has no ties or responsibility to her. He doesn’t know her situation, she never says anything about abuse and not every situation is like his own past, but he just has this sick feeling anyway.

That should’ve been the end of it, but two weeks later the bike shows up back in the shed looking like it’s been run over. A note attached reads “i’m sorry”. Andrew leaves $20 by the electric bike and writes “take the fucking bus” under her handwriting. 4 days later the money is gone.

Blake is gone for another 4 weeks, and then when Andrew can’t sleep one night he sits outside smoking a tiny bit of weed (bc Neil made him give up cigarettes long ago) and he catches her walking down the sidewalk. She freezes bc she was definitely about to borrow the electric bike again. This time he allows it. Neil hasn’t used the thing consistently since he was 38 (4 yrs ago) anyway.

2 weeks later he catches her outside again, this time texting Renee who is on the other side of the world for something he doesn’t care enough about, and Blake has a bruise on her jaw and a cut on her cheek, bandages around her one wrist/hand. “Bicycle accident” is what she says. “Funny. The bicycle is scuff free” He sees the brief panic in her face. “Who is hurting you?” bigger panic “No one, you’re crazy” “Maybe once. I know abuse when I see it” “fuck you, you don’t know me” he scares her off. No trace of Blake for 2 months, bike untouched.

2 months later, Andrew goes to the 24 hour CVS to get smth idk, not thinking ab it being Blake’s workplace, but what do u know? Blake is at the counter wearing a turtleneck in summer. She doesn’t notice him w her headphones in, and smth in Andrew cracks when she lifts a scratched up a bruised hand to lightly pull the neck down and itch, revealing the bruises. Her eyes are hollow when she sees him, recognition insignificant, but as soon as she realizes what he’s rlly looking at she silently shakes her head as if saying “no, not here, not now, not in front of others pls don’t say anything”.

Andrew leaves without purchasing anything.

However, when she steps outside 20 minutes later post-shift Andrew is waiting on the hood of his car. “If you lie to me, I will call the police and you can let them find out who choked you.”

Scratchy voiced, like she screamed too hard at a concert, she says “No-No please don’t, I can’t- you can’t call the police” “Give me one good reason not to” “He’ll- I’m only 15, they’ll make me quit my job and we can’t to afford- and they’ll split us up, and he- Elliot won’t- he can’t- oh my god” she starts breathing heavily and raggedly and trips over herself into the brick wall of the CVS. She’s never had a panic attack before and she can’t catch her breath and is she allergic to something? Is she dying? Andrew makes her sit without touching her, and waits her out patiently until she’s breathing normally.

“Please don’t call anyone” “Then show me” “Why? What the hell do you even want?” Andrew wishes he had an answer to that but he doesn’t. What does he want? For this kid to not die at the hands of someone else? To get off better than he had? Andrew’s been retired from exy for 6 years now, and sure, he got bored sometimes, but aiding a teenager he didn’t know out of abuse or through the foster system wasn’t something he was really looking to add to his plate.

To be honest, he’d been hoping that the bruises were from a boyfriend that she could just break up with. But Andrew knew better.

He wouldn’t know without seeing her wounds, though, and he’d done the trade game once to know that sometimes it worked. He pulled the sleeve of his shirt up and showed her his scars. She didn’t know who he was, there was no one for her to tell. He didn’t care anymore as it was.

“I gave myself these when I was younger than you. When things got worse, I got myself sent to juvie just to get away from it. I will make you a deal. You tell me the truth about what is going on, and I will get you away from it.”

“Not to juvie, I hope” she jokes meekly. He shakes his head and she just deflates. “It’s our dad” she whispers like he can hear her “He was always rough handed, but then our mom died two years ago and he just started getting really bad. Like, slaps me or spanks me for talking back, or-or throws shit all the time. I had- my hands were all wrapped up cause he threw a vase and it shattered, and I had to clean it up cause he won’t and he just- he just shoved me down into all the broken pieces and it cut me all up” she was crying again, shaking hands pressed to her eyes “and he almost drowned Elliot cause he thought throwing him in the lake over and over again would teach him to swim,” and oh that was an ugly sob “so now I make Elliot st-stay after school for sports and go right to his room after. I’ve been cooking our meals since mom died but dad doesn’t go to the grocery store and sometimes he barely gives me enough money to get food, so I’ve been working-” Blake cuts herself off bc she is trying not to panic again, and when she opens her puffy eyes she’s met with Andrew’s calm but blank stare.

Andrew doesn’t have the luxury of staging a car accident anymore, though. “And the neck?” “I told him I wish he died instead of mom” “Good”. Andrew stands and unlocks the car “We are going to get your brother, and then I am getting you out of the house. How long will it take for him to notice that you’re gone?” Blake looks scared again “I-I don’t know, he’ll notice, but he probably won’t do anything about it until night time. But he-he has my location on my phone”

Easy fix, she turns the location feature off and Andrew drives her to him and Neil’s house first bc he wants Neil as extra help just in case. “The girl that broke into the shed” “Oh, uh, hi? Why is she outside our bedroom?” Andrew switches to German “Her father beats her and favors drowning her brother.” Neil sits up bc okay that’s got his attention, and the first thing he says, albeit cautiously, is, “Does he… do I need to call-” “No” and phew thank god. Neil doesn’t need two confirmed hits on his hands. It’s been 23 years since he got rid of Grayson for Jean.

“We need to go get him out of the house, and in the morning we need to call our lawyer. For them” “Why not the police?” “She said no.” it’s so telling that that’s enough for Neil to get on board “Well, alright. Not forever, but definitely for the night”

Blake is kinda taken back by all of Neil’s scars bc he was sleeping shirtless after all, but then they’re leaving the house again and Blake is on the phone with Elliot that only gives Andriel a one sided convo about “we’re getting out of there for good, pack what you absolutely need, the rest we’ll… i don’t know, we’ll get another time, maybe…. yes, i’ll be there soon. don’t leave your room, i’m gonna go in and pack and then we’re out. quick and quiet, hear me?”

Anyway, luckily their dad isn’t even home they don’t know why. Neil sees Elliot looking through the window as they pull in, and when they follow Blake up the stairs Elliot trips backwards away from them “Who the fuck are they?” “We’re neighbors, kind of. We’re getting you out of here, take it or leave it” “El, it’s fine, please, I promise”

Neil goes with Elliot, who has a black eye and bruises from rough fingers on his forearm. “Dad left in a rampage when he saw you were gone, i told you that job wasn’t fucking worth it”

But then all four of them are safe in Andrew and Neil’s house, and King immediately goes over to Elliot who promptly collapses into a panic attack against the front door. He and Blake sleep in the guest bedroom except they really don’t sleep bc Andrew and Neil can hear the hushed whispers and questions and crying, because they might be in a strangers house and they might not know what comes next but they’re out and they’re safe and they’re going to be okay.

[dulcewrites]

What do you think about this, black!reader is married to Austin!Elvis and she is interviewed by like Ebony or Jet magazine bc folks are really curious about her. I saw some vintage Ebony magazine covers on Pinterest and they are just mwah. Austin!Elvis makes a cameo

Picture Perfect

Pairing: austin!elvis x black reader (wc: 1.4k)

Requested: yes (thank you)

A/N: I’ve said this before but I LOVE this idea. Thank you to whoever sent this in. I didn’t know if I want this to be from the reader’s pov or for it to read like an actual interview if that makes any sense. So I decided to sort of combine the styles. I was also inspired by those vogue look breakdowns. I love those lmao. This takes place in 1967 months after reader and Elvis get married.

You eye the giant cameras and lighting equipment set up in the living room. Chantelle, the interviewer and editor of the entertainment news desk, reassured you that the whole thing would be organic and calm. An interview and photoshoot in your natural setting: at home.

It was her idea to ask some questions before doing the photoshoot, just to loosen you up a bit. The order didn’t really matter, you were anxious about both parts. This was not only your first magazine cover, but also your first interview of this magnitude. But since the wedding, you’ve been reached out to by almost every major publication in the country. Elvis and you thought it would be a good idea to just pick one, and maybe the attention would settle a bit. When John H. Johnson personally wrote to you, your interest was piqued. You’ve read Jet and Ebony magazine for years. So, you’d be lying if you said the idea of being on the cover of Ebony magazine didn’t excite you a bit.

Now you’re here on the couch, made up to perfection, waiting for the interview to start. You twist your wedding ring around your finger as Chantelle walks over.

“Mrs. Presley, thank you again for doing this,” she says as she sits in the chair moved to face the couch.

Mrs. Presley, that’s something you’re still getting used to. Your eyes go to the thick notebook in Chantelle’s hand; damn, how much did people want to know.

“The pleasure is all my mine,” you nod, eye still on the notebook. “Please excuse me if I’m a bit nervous, I’ve never really done anything like this.”

“I understand, but I want to reassure you there’s nothing to be worried about. A lot of people are very excited about this, and about getting to know you.”

That’s another thing you have to get used to. People you don’t know wanting to know you. Wanting to know about your likes, dislikes, hobbies, and life. For multiple reasons, your relationship with Elvis was an open secret. You were around but an overall mystery to the public. Normally Elvis’ star power always overpowered the conversation about his relationship, but the wedding changed that. You both thought throwing the media a bone by having a small press conference after the ceremony would help; one the colonel of course set up to his liking. But it seems like it only made people more insatiable. Who is Mrs. Presley?

You nod at Chantelle’s comforting words. This will be ok.

“Great, let’s start,” she open her notebook and clicks her pen. “Something simple to start: tell me about yourself.”

Your childhood was… mundane. No extremely high highs and no horrible lows. It’s something you’re grateful for. Normal, and yeah sometimes bland.

“Well, I’m an only child. Born to a teacher and tailor. We moved to Memphis from Georgia in 1949. I graduated from high school in 1954, and started taking classes at at Spelman in ‘55. During the summers, I began working at the pharmacy near men’s clothing store my dad worked at.

Chantelle writes all of your words down before look up with a knowing smile.

“And that’s how you met Elvis, right. When you were at that shop?”

You nod with a fond smile on your face. You remember that day like it was yesterday. B.B King had been a frequent costumer at the shop your dad worked at, and the two of you met while you visited your dad one day.

“Oh you have to meet E.P,” B.B grins at you. It had been weeks since you and King had met. He was easily your favorite client your dad has ever had. “Elvis cmon out.”

He calls back to the dress room station, and your brows shoot up. It sounds silly now but you never put it together when B.B said his nickname. E.P… Elvis Presley.

It feels like wind gets knocked out of you when Elvis comes out. Your eyes meet, and you wonder if the feeling in your chest is normal.

“I told you I want you to meet Mr. Smith’s daughter.”

Elvis doesn’t even look over the B.B, just reaches his hand out to take your extended one. Elvis is sure he hasn’t seen anything or anyone as beautiful as you. You two shake hands for much longer than needed; neither of you pulling away. B.B looks from Elvis to you, then back to Elvis. It dawns on him what he just did.

“Yes, met through a mutual a friend while I was working,” B.B now tells you that since he unknowably set you two up, one of your future kids must be named Riley.

That was in 1957. It’s been 10 years since then. On one hand it feel like it’s been a lifetime, and on the other it feels like you just met him yesterday. Those 10 years have came with up and downs; you’re both stronger for it you think.

“In 1958, Elvis started his 2 year military service. How did that effect your relationship?”

You chew on your lip; you should’ve expected that. Those two years were… rough for the both of you. Elvis was away, and you both had lost people you love dearly. Your grandma Beatrice passing only two months before Gladys passed.

“It was difficult,” you start with a sigh. “Honestly, the couple of months leading up to it were hard too. Everyone had an opinion on Elvis. I guess they still do. We both wanted different things. Elvis wanted to stay together; I felt like a break would do us some good.”

Chantelle raises an perfectly arched eyebrow.

“And how did he handle that,” she asks as she looked up from her notebook.

You remember that argument, the one that happened three days before he left for Fort Chaffee. You felt sick after hearing him say that he didn’t want to lose you to on top of everything else.

“Not well in the moment, but I think he knew I was right. It’s cliche, but I told him that if it’s meant to be we will come back to each other.”

You were right. It was a six months after his service ended in 1960. He asked you to come out to California.

“How do you think your relationship has withstood so much time,” she asks. “And I’m assuming, hardships. His fame, the time away, and of course this being an interracial relationship.”

You sit for a second, thinking about the question. You truthfully don’t a secret magic answer to how Elvis and you have lasted this long. Of course you’re grateful you have, but it’s sort of mystery considering how many times this truly could’ve ended between you two.

“All I can say is that we love each other,” you begin. “I think sometimes love isn’t enough to overcome all those hardship, but thankfully sometimes it is. We may stuck in our own way, but we have each other.”

You know Elvis hasn’t been particularly thrilled with how his movie career has gone since getting back from Germany. You know how much he longs for different results, and you are by his side as he figures it out.

Chantelle smiles while writing down your answer. She looks back up at you with a bright smile .

“Now I hope this isn’t overstepping. But I’m sure the readers will be curious to know: will there be any mini Presleys running around soon?”

The question makes you laugh. She sounds like Elvis. As soon as you two said I do, he’s brought up having kids.

“We do plan on having kids, god willing,” you smile at her. “But no exciting news on that front just yet.”

Chantelle closes her notebook, stands up with her hand out. She thanks you again for agreeing to the interview and the shoot. You watch as she goes over the photographer to let him know you can start the shoot.

You see a flash of dark hair in your peripheral. Elvis peeked his head around the wall connecting the dining room and living area. He gives you thumbs up and wink. You playfully roll your eyes. You know he’s enjoying you being the one photographed and bombarded by questions.

The thought of how people will react to this cover crosses your mind, but then you realize everyone loves a good love story. And if one thing describes Elvis and you… it’s a pure, unadulterated love.

[hungarianmudkip69]

actually im thinking abt it now so here's a post

Tips for Actually Fucking Getting Your ADHD Medication!!!!!

First of all, some notes:

a) I was diagnosed and started my medication when I was very small. So unfortunately I cannot offer advice about getting prescribed your medication! only getting the medication you are already prescribed. I literally don't remember a time before I was taking my meds.

b) I take specifically Concerta! While I think these should be applicable to other medications as well, that's something I felt like I should be upfront with.

c) I live in the US. I don't actually know how much of this would apply to other countries. Maybe some of it? But this is specifically about the US healthcare system.

This is going to be a bit long bc I am, of course, ADHD, so I'll put it under a cut.

This post will cover two scenarios: My Medication Is Usually Covered, But This Time It's Not/Costs More Than Usual and The Pharmacy Is Out Of My Fucking Medication!!!!

I would appreciate reblogs even if you aren't ADHD to get this info to people who need it, especially with another shortage seemingly starting!

I've got a couple different situations to cover, starting with:

My Medication Is Usually Covered, But The Pharmacy Says This Time It's Not/Costs Way More Than Usual

ok this is going to be so so hard but this is what you're going to have to do:

Call your health insurance.

Every time this has happened to me, it hasn't actually not been covered, it was the pharmacy fucking something up while checking coverage.

When you get through to a rep, you're going to say this:

"Hi, my name is [name.] I was trying to get my ADHD medication from my pharmacy, but they said it's not covered, which is weird because my prescription hasn't changed and it's been covered before. I'd like to know what's going on."

If you're upset, don't feel bad about not being able to hide it. Gotta be honest, I've gotten the quickest help when I started crying on the phone...

What usually happens with my medication is that it's made by multiple manufacturers, and the insurance only covers some of them. If the pharmacy only checked one manufacturer and it wasn't covered, sometimes they don't bother to check others, and tell me that my meds aren't covered.

Even if it's not that, it is far more likely that your pharmacy fucked up than that your insurance coverage changed. I once got quoted ALMOST SEVEN HUNDRED DOLLARS for 30 days of my medication. It turned out to be a pharmacy error.

Health insurance companies may be out to fuck you over, but the people at the customer service phones are there to help you. Let them help you get your meds covered if the pharmacy won't. I once had an incredible rep who even called the pharmacy herself to make sure they ran my meds properly and started filling them while I was still on the call. Let them help you! They want to!

The Pharmacy Is Out Of My Fucking Medication!!!!

This is the problem that I was having at the end of last year which was fucking hell for me to deal with.

Some useful background for this section:

There are multiple different ratings of generics for a drug. For my explanation, we'll use Concerta. This explanation may not be entirely accurate as I am not trained in this stuff! But it is what my dad learned and explained to me while we were navigating the shortage.

Concerta is extended-release methylphenidate, but the unique thing about it is the release mechanism. It has a little hole in the end and a tiny sponge in it. Over time the sponge absorbs stomach acid and expands, pushing the medication out at a consistent rate.

There is a generic with this same sponge release mechanism! It is what is called an "AB rated" generic for Concerta because it is proven to have the exact same therapeutic effects as brand name Concerta. Insurance covers AB generics! Yay!

Extended release Ritalin is the same drug and the same dosage, but it simply dissolves in your stomach over time so it doesn't release as consistently as Concerta. It is a "Bx rated" generic. At least in my experience, insurance will not cover this without a special exemption from your doctor. This is usually a good thing, because it means your pharmacy can't just give you a Bx instead of an AB without your knowledge. During a shortage? Not so much.

So you have been informed by your pharmacy that they do not have the generic covered by your insurance. Here is what you're going to do.

1) Freak out a little bit. This is normal. Medication is important and you're not getting it. Let yourself work through it, then calm down because there Are Things You Can Do!!! Take your phone with you when you lie on the ground and cry, that way once you're done you don't have to get up to work on solving it. Getting up is hard.

2) Call your pharmacy and other pharmacies in the area. You want to find out a few things:

2.1) Do other pharmacies in the area have the generic your insurance covers? If so, you can call your doctor and ask them to send your prescription to that pharmacy instead.

2.2) What potential alternatives do they have? Ask if they have the brand name in stock (during the height of the shortage, both pharmacies my family used almost always had the brand name but not the AB generic) and if they have other generics your insurance doesn't cover. Take notes!

2.3) "Do you know what the process would be for getting one of those alternatives covered?" They may not, or they may tell you exactly what you need to do.

3) Call your insurance. Explain your situation to them, and ask them about ways to get your medication covered. I take 72mg total, and when the shortage started I was taking one each of 54mg and 18mg generic pills - by talking to the insurance, I found out that I could switch to two 36mg brand name pills without paying any more. However, this didn't help for my parents or for the times the pharmacy was out of the brand name as well. So here's the more important part: There are ways for you to get your doctor to apply to get them prescribing you an alternate generic approved. The insurance rep can describe this process to you. Take notes to get ready for the next step:

4) Call your doctor's office. Explain your situation, again, and explain that you called the insurance and they told you you need the doctor to do this thing. Ask when you can expect it to go through. Explain how you've been without your meds and it's awful and please you understand that there might not be anything they can do but anything they can do to fast track it would be incredible. Be polite, but don't be afraid to expose how badly you need this. I find it helps. Just be honest.

5) Treat yourself. This is stressful and it's a lot of phone calls, which are hard, especially if you don't have your meds. Give yourself a little treat and it will help your reward-motivated ADHD brain feel better about having to do that shit. Legitimately, my therapist told me to give myself a little treat every time I call the doctor. It's an important step.

6) Follow up. If it's past when you were supposed to get news or have your meds, call and ask for an update. Don't be afraid to be proactive in finding out the exact status of your meds. Just be polite and kind and phone reps are generally happy to help.

I genuinely hope you never need this advice. I also hope that if you do, it helps. These are just my personal experiences, so please also feel free to add any of your own tips to this post.

[xazz]

Home from the hospital

have a kidney stone. Another one.

it

suuuuucks dude

the doctors are worried about an infection. So I'm gonna be taking antibiotics as well as pain meds and ugggh

got home from the hospital and me and daddy crashed immediately. Slept for like 4-5 hours bc its IMPOSSIBLE to sleep well in the ER or the hospital in general.

They had me on two IV bags and at one point they gave me morphine for the pain into my IV bag. And I was sitting up awake with something on my tablet when it hit and bruh. That shit. Is crazy. There was a guy walking by and he saw me, stopped, walked back over to me and was like 'you okay?' 'they gave me morphine for the pain. I've never had morphine before and I just felt it' and that amused him a little but checked to make sure I was okay before going on his business.

I had a CT scan at the hospital and then later on saw a urologist. She brought their wheeled computer over and like... I got to see my slices from this visit and last visit :O That was legit so cool! And I got to see this STUPID fucking 2mm sonuvabitch in my uria causing me agonizing pain. It was a little white grain of rice and GOD. Fucking. Piece of shit. But watching the doctor scroll through my CT slices was pretty fucking neat.

Now me and dad are gonna go get my 5 new medications from the pharmacy. I have. So many medications now bro *sigh*

[brain-n-body-in-disarray]

Trouble with object permanence when it comes to symptoms is such a weird thing to experience.

When you have disorders that evolve in 'episodes' or 'phases', it's sometimes hard to remember what's it like to experience these episodes and phases.

I think my memory issues play a key role in that too. (My memory's fucked mostly bc of traumas)

So I end up stopping believing I have such or such condition. Until the symptoms come back and I'm like "Oh."

When I'm not "up", I think "oh this is just depression". Until one day I start blowing up into arguments over the most little things and sleeping two hours without feeling tired because there is so much to create, it can't stop I can't stop just a little more and oh it's 8am already where the night went?

Thankfully I have enough rational brain still to realise what's going on and that I need to warn my boyfriend before I start making rash decisions about important stuff.

And it's the same with my other conditions. I'm not in pain? Well it was probably nothing and I don't need to ask a mobility aid to my doctor, or need to ask for another meds prescription. Until i suddenly can't walk down the corridor to the kitchen because all my joints hurt like hell. (And yeah I curse past-me in those moments when I don't even have pain meds at hand and I can't physically walk to the pharmacy)

I can't even remember my symptoms when they're not bothering me bc I'm not in a situation where they impact me directly. Which makes explaining my problems to doctors really cumbersome. How many times have I been brushed off just because I could not articulate what was wrong with me?

That is something that people needs to be more aware of, I think. That not anyone can recall and explain everything that's going on in them and in their lives. That it's not them lying about their problems.

It's just that brains are tricky things.

[nicistrying]

A lil update since I've been so inactive on here!

Didn't get the job I interviewed for. But it's okay. They're keeping me on their reserve list so if another job came up they would offer me it. Which is much better than I was expecting after the first interview I've done in 3 years! And I have another interview for a job at the council on Monday so will try for that one instead.

Haven't had / made time to work out since I came home from hiking with Matt and then festival with my sisters - I did plenty of moving and grooving that week so priority has just been surviving at work and stretching - had a lovely long, deep stretch this morning which felt awesome

Been v anxious the past few days - just an awful lot going on and it's all a bit overwhelming. Also had no meds over the weekend bc pharmacy was closed so I couldn't pick them up. I was fine until today, v fuzzy and just been in hyper-worry mode. Picked them up today though and have taken one tonight so hopefully tomorrow will be back to normal

Work is ever so slightly less sucky I think? Maybe? Our manager is away for 2 weeks and we have the manager from another store working at ours to help out.. he's nice enough but a tad creepy. Asking me to speak French to him and to teach him to flirt in Spanish, making rude jokes.. I'd be fine with that if I had known him a little while bc he seems like someone I could get on with, but this is the first time he's met me 😂😂 tried to give me his phone number before he left in case we need him desperately tomorrow while he's doing HR stuff at his store before he comes here and I was just like... that won't be necessary I'll just leave a note saying you're going to be late 🤣 I ended up texting my wagon driver (who also delivers to this othet guy's store) to ask if he said something to him to make him think I was going to flirt with him or if he's just like that and his response was 'oh that's just him.. he's a bit weird but he's okay'. So I feel a bit better knowing he probably means nothing by it. Even so, I was a little uncomfortable at times. But I'll take him over our manager any day. At least he does his job and makes an effort to have a laugh with people.

Also we are having a heatwave here atm! It's been 22-26°C all week and I'm sooo glad I have a long weekend off to enjoy it. After I did all my chores on Monday I just lay out in the garden in my bikini and pretended I was on holiday. It was freaking lovely and so needed after such a shit week at work last week.

Think that's it! One more shift tomorrow and then 5 days off to sit out in the sunshine, visit family, and treat myself for my bdayyy 🥳🥳

[uncertaininnit]

will u tell the class abt the tylenol murders

oh god oh geez okay YES! I had to instantly pause the YouTube video that I had playing in the corner of my screen as soon as I saw that I got this ask in my activity feed. the details like the year aren’t ingrained in my brain so I’m going to do a little googling to answer this question but most of it is stuff I remember and so some of it might not be 100% true but !! It’s really interesting

In September 1982, over the span of a week, 7 people living in the Chicago area died after taking Tylenol pills that were spiked with cyanide.

someone had gone to a pharmacy in chicago (it might have been two) and subtly replaced or spiked or whatever (idk how you deal with cyanide) the pills of at least 5 bottles of tylenol an out them back on the shelves completely normal looking.

this is the reason pretty much all food and medication you buy has a plastic seal on it to indicate if it’s been opened before. Before the Chicago Tylenol murders that wasn’t a thing pretty much at all

Nothing like this had ever happened before and there were a few copycat killers after the fact but as far as I’m aware they never caught the killer just because they didn’t have any kinds of precautions set for an event like that

after the deaths were all traced back to the spiked Tylenol, it was taken off of shelves nationwide and was really bad for Tylenol (duh). rival companies were accused of doing it to hurt Tylenol and I think there was also evidence against the Tylenol ceo? I would suggest watching the buzzfeed unsolved video (that’s where I first heard of this) for more info about the suspects and everything but that’s not really what I remember

I think at least one of the people who died was a child. An especially tragic story is (details here are probably a little wrong) a family was all together in one house and they were gathered for MAYBE a funeral I don’t know when one of them got a headache and went to take a Tylenol, and the like 2 minutes later passed out on the living room floor dead.

obviously not great for that to happen, imagine your uncle passed out dead on the floor of the living room. This might cause confusion and stress, leading to maybe someone developing a headache. And taking a Tylenol.

since they didn’t know the Tylenol was responsible, another family member took one and also died. That’s two deaths in the family within like 15 minutes.

I think it was someone from that same family who figured out that it was the Tylenol- since both of them had taken one and I think the second family member made a comment about it smelling like almonds (which is a common way to id cyanide, apparently it smells like almonds)

I feel like this isn’t as detailed as you were hoping bc I’m obviously not an expert but I think it’s so interesting !! It’s like how 9/11 led to the airport changes, but it’s much lesser known even though food that you have to remove seals from is way more regular than going to the airport.

It really is a great example of how literally everything and every rule of the world around us comes from mistakes. Learning from things and sometimes tragedies

[mango-jpeg]

anticipation, then flesh notes

i made a full outline for this fic and remembered to preserve a copy, so that's tacked on at the end

worked on this for about two weeks (~19th to ~1st)

not totally sure why this pairing occurred to me rn but 1) needed a break from pwp 2) enjoyed the peaceful tone of Baizhu’s character stories

also, embarrassing to notice, but ever since i started writing fic i write something sappy about getting/being married around my birthday... whatever could it mean.......

i’ve always been into this pairing but wanted to wait to know more about Baizhu before writing.. just didn’t think it would take years for him to become playable lol..

wanted to write something funny and short so landed on the old engagement plot. almost immediately wrote the widower line and had to walk that back lmao 

wrote the coal miner bit bc i had the thought that i needed a bit more background on the relationship. i liked it but had to work hard to find a way to fit it in

now whenever i write these asides i think You're Doing It Again.. addicted to narrative breaks.....

title from a short history of the apple, not for any particular reason. previous title didn't quite work, and i thought something to do with apples would be better

reading

I Was Told There'd Be Cake, and Cult Classic, both by Sloan Crosley

some persona 5 pwps

this is the first (and only) outline i made, what i'd call the first 'draft' (since i don't really do drafts). the starting point of a fic usually looks something like this - then i write over it as i go. almost 100% of the time i start with dialogue

full outline:

and there you go again, stopping just as things are heating up. huh— wh— while i am fully aware there are no adverse physical effects of— what’s that quaint term the youth use?— being blue balled, as it were. But i didn’t take you to be such a tease Gui. Gui is so, so red. Dr.— I, i mean— just what does a man have to do to get his cock sucked around here? gui flusters. then: you’re going to laugh at me. i promise to do my best to keep my amusement private, gui. i always… i [wanted to wait until after marriage] … oh. baizhu says. that’s not funny at all, turns out.

there are two reasons why people get married. and they are? taxes and children, baizhu answers promptly, since we cannot have children it hardly seems relevant

besides, you’re already entitled to half my wealth in my will, so-- excuse me? didn’t i tell you? no? well, half my property and assets go directly to you. He takes a second look at Gui’s expression and feels compelled to add, if that doesn’t seem like enough i could try to increase it, only, i want to leave enough to ensure Qiqi— gui grabs him by the shoulders. i’m the primary beneficiary in your will? of course you are. Baizhu has never known Gui to be prone to dramatics, but perhaps he was just saving it up for this moment. Gui buries both hands in his hair and makes an anguished sound as he turns away, yanking at his hair. 

there’s another reason, gui says.  what’s that? another reason people get married. his expression is set. baizhu looks away. oh, that. i don’t put much stock in sentiment. a long pause, then Gui puts his face next to Baizhu’s and whispers right into his ear; Liar.

gui out delivering medicine to old folks goes upstairs to “talk to” old lady neighbour she swears is being loud (no one lives there) talks to door about his problems

back at pharmacy Chengsheng gives Baizhu a hard time ch - fine. since you’re going to be morbid about it baizhu - to marry is to make Gui a widower ch - yes and?? don’t you see if you leave things as they are there will be no word for what you were to him except employer? that no one will understand his mourning? there is no easy way to grieve but you could at least give him the dignity of acknowledging what you mean to him. baizhu- … baizhu - also i will find the secret to immortality ch - yes, yes. that too

gui doesn’t return to pharmacy baizhu goes out looking for him after dinner - he’s not at home with his family. they try to invite him in for tea but he demurs  wanders around - it’s foggy / a light rain

in the morning baizhu feels a little fuzzy but gui is back  acting normal / professional (gui went to funeral parlour to get his will drawn up)

baizhu is beginning to come down with a cold.  don’t— you’ll catch it. baizhu, gui says, solemnly, i am going to suck your cock. i will do it as long as it takes to learn what you like best.  ah. this is called compromise, and it means you’re going to have to be okay with maybe giving me your cold.

props baizhu up on some pillows so he can breathe well. makes him hold onto the bars of the headboard. 

baizhu grabs Gui’s hair at one point and he stops. Hands on the bars. Gui— Gui looks up at him. His face is red all the way to his hairline, his mouth swollen and wet. the twist of his lips is nervous, but his gaze set. Baizhu’s cock jumps in his hand.  Hands on the bars, please. Baizhu does as he’s told.

[evilkitten3]

My friend is getting top surgery next month, I'm very glad that he's getting that weight off his chest. Since you've been through it all ready, could I ask for some advice on supporting him through the recovery process?

absolutely.

make sure he has someone/thing to reach the top shelf. he's not gonna be raising his arms above his shoulders for a while

make sure the pharmacy prescribing the pain meds understands that they're for treating the pain from the surgery, not for gender dysphoria. otherwise they simply will not give you pain meds. they may not even tell you that they have not given you pain meds. i recommend against finding this out the exciting way like i did (side note: surprisingly not that bad most of the time)

if it's the same for him as it was for me, he'll be on a 5 pound weight limit for three weeks, and then a 25 pound limit for another three weeks. this is going to affect more than anyone involved will realize. if he's gonna need to move anything heavy any time soon, he should do that before surgery

i had to switch to tylenol instead of ibuprofen a few weeks pre-surgery bc ibuprofen can increase risk of bleeding. if he's an ibuprofen guy, he may want to grab some tylenol just in case

i've heard different people have different experiences with the drains. for some people, that's the worst part. for me, it was pretty simple (although my mom handled most of the measuring). if you aren't going to be involved with keeping them clear/measuring the goop, try to remember to glance down every now and then just in case a cap was screwed on wrong and too much air got in there. probably not gonna be a medical emergency but you wanna keep an eye on them so they'll do their job.

does he have a ride to and from the hospital? this is a very important question bc if the answer is no, the surgery simply will not happen. they just won't do it.

what i got specifically was a double mastectomy with free nipple grafts. if he's getting the same, i cannot stress enough that the nipples will look weird for a while. this is probably nothing to worry about. they're supposed to do that. if he's still worried, he should check in with the surgeon or another qualified expert, but probably they'll just say "it's ok keep an eye on it and if it hasn't healed in [x amount of time] come back then"

he is going to be constantly reminding that all your bits and pieces are connected to one another. even the bits you aren't thinking about. it's gonna be weird.

if he has a dog, offer to walk the dog for him (or help him find someone else who can do it). dogs do not understand the importance of the surgery recovery process. don't let overly enthusiastic dogs happen to you (or in this case your friend)

get a spare binder. not the chest kind, the abdominal kind. you might wanna wash the first one (this will likely be provided by the hospital) and it's better to have two.

speaking of binders, at some point the bandages will come off. the binder will still be required (or, more accurately, highly recommended). this was, for me, Absolute Sensory Hell. i recommend you make sure he's got a few light, loose shirts he can wear under the binder just in case

this didn't end up being relevant to me, but my surgeon recommended my mom buy some puppy training pads in case of accidents (accidents is a word which usually implies pee, but here means bleeding. sometimes there be blood)

if he has cats, he's gonna need to be careful not to let them step on his chest. cats do not like being told where they can or can't step. i hope he has more willpower than i do

quite likely, he's already aware of a good chunk of this. your first step - and possibly only step - is to ask if there's anything he needs from you. if he's got things under control, have faith in him.

brace yourself for how happy he's gonna be once he sees himself topless after the drains come out and the bandages come off. i was pretty much bouncing over my reflection. the euphoria is real.

[izzy-b-hands]

More Cat Ferguson to celebrate both Ferguson Friday and the OFMD anniversary!

Plus, bonus Olivia and my fave sad cheese man Jim from Midsomer Murders as a nervous pup (bc the poor thing is just. so concerned. so nervous. if he's gonna be onboard, he needs to be an adorable pup to be protected akdnkfng)

a hint of Steddyhands at the end bc my pharmacy called & massively fucked up my T rx refill so I was panicking while writing and on the phone and one of the Comfort Ships emerged as a result lol.

---

"You're not going to kill me," Frenchie kneels down to Ferguson's level. "Hear that? You won't. I won't let you."

Ferguson bumps into his knees and purrs.

"Okay, I see how it is. Pretty sure those tactics are illegal, and I've seen what you did to Pete's-"

Two front paws bat at his knees.

"Oh. My lap? You want so sit-hang on fuck no claws! Okay-"

He lays back on the floor, and watches Ferguson hop onto him, curl up, and snuggle in for a nap.

"A hostage situation then? My god, you cats are ruthless."

Ferguson purrs contentedly.

--

"He can't go on a raid," Ed says. "He's a cat. We had this talk about Fang's dog remem-"

A knife is at his throat in a blink.

"Ah. I didn't mean that I'd ask you to..." Ed hesitates as Izzy pulls his knife away. "You really like that cat, don't you?"

"And what if I do?"

Ed shrugs. "Then that's sweet, and I'm glad, but remember I won't ask you to kill him. That said, if you pull your knife out like that against me again-"

"Go take a nap with the cat," Stede strides past, helping Lucius drag an oddly shaped and overly large burlap sack across the deck. "Everyone can hear how grumpy you both are from miles away. Go sleep."

"My wanting to keep the cat out of a raid does not mean I'm grumpy," Ed protests.

"Who do you think just helped kill this fucker?" Stede motions to the sack. "If he was a bigger cat, like way bigger? My god, what we could train him to do..."

Ferguson trots by, leaving bloody paw prints all over the deck. He pauses and stares up at Ed and Izzy, as if daring either of them to question his skill.

"Go on," Stede smiles. "He needs to be cleaned off anyway."

Izzy kneels down to scoop up Ferguson, and peers into the half open front of the sack. "Who did he k-is that Hornigold?"

"I told you to close that up completely," Lucius sighs. "I told you they'd look if they caught us."

"In our dear ship cat's defense," Stede says. "Someone here was of the opinion he could just come calling and drag the two of you away again. Something about a contract broken."

"We did kind of run away," Izzy winces as he stands. "After a few years of his bullshit. Technically we were supposed to serve until death, but if he honestly thought most pirates would hold to that..."

"You don't have to be smart to do anything in the world," Ed sighs, tapping the bag with his foot. "But it helps sometimes. Like he could have read my amendments to our contracts, in which I gave us the right to run away."

Ferguson purrs and leans back in Izzy's arms to look towards Ed, chin offered out for scritches.

"Yeah, yeah," Ed mumbles. "Maybe you could help keep people off the ship during a raid. Just don't want you falling off and drowning or getting stuck on the other ship, or-"

"Oh," Lucius says softly. "Ed is that why? Oh my god this is just like my dad telling us why he didn't want to let us get a dog. He didn't want to get attached in case anything happened to them!"

Izzy offers Ferguson to Ed, who promptly takes him and snuggles him into his arms.

"Sleep," Stede instructs Izzy. "Both of you. Actually, all three of you, though I don't think I need to worry about the cat. We've got this."

"Blood is soaking into the deck," Lucius announces. "Oh ew. This can't be good for this, right? No."

--

He stares down the man attempting to board the ship.

His ship. Not before, but it is now. His ship and his people and this guy doesn't even smell like another cat, at the very least-

"Fuck off of me!" the man whispers fiercely as he falls onto the deck. "That Ed Teach would keep such a foul creature on board-"

That seals it. He's heard of lions and tigers taking care of troublesome humans. Why not try it himself?

Ferguson wiggles his tail, and lunges teeth-first into the man's neck.

--

"Let us board you!" the pirates shouts.

"Not our choice," Izzy calls back. "It's his."

He gestures to Ferguson, sitting on the end of the plank the other crew had tossed as their waypoint onto The Revenge.

"It's just a cat," another snarls, and charges down the plank.

Only to be bit above the knee, hard, promptly losing balance and falling into the water.

"Why would we just let you do that anyway?" Frenchie adds. "Like. The whole point is to not be boarded unless you actually invite the other people over. Sort of Pirate 101, man."

"Oh fuck this," the other crew's captain growls. "Get your damn cat off of there!"

Ferguson jumps into Frenchie's arms when gestured to do so, and they watch the plank being pulled away.

"What now?" Frenchie asks.

"Ed and Stede are going to have it fired upon in a moment, then we go over ourselves and raid them."

"Oh good! I need a new jacket and that one guy, to the right of the captain, has exactly what I'm looking for," Frenchie smiles. "Let's get you safe in the galley, hm? Good job on keeping them from ambushing us."

Ferguson purrs and kneads against him, content to let them finish the crew off.

--

"They're not too smart," Olivia sighs. "But they're all pretty at least."

They sit together on the deck, watching what was meant to be a simple game of tug of war. Exercise, friendly competition, and bonding all in one!

"I'll eat you alive!" Buttons growls across the rope, nearly spitting in Lucius' face.

"Maybe I bite back now," Lucius smirks, straining to lean out from behind Ed to see him. "What then?"

Buttons grins.

Ferguson rolls onto his back and sighs. No belly rubs then. No treats from Roach (currently busy at one end of the rope, arm muscles taut, screaming wordlessly at everyone on the other side.)

Truly, tragedy on the seas knows no bounds.

"Make sure they don't kill each other," Olivia continues, and ruffles her feathers. "I need to go check on my kids. Karl Jr. has a birthday tomorrow, do you think they'd mind if I brought him by?"

Ferguson lets out a noncommittal mew. That's really for Buttons to find out and say, not him. But he can't imagine they'd really care, especially if they're still at the game of tug of war by then.

"I love you," Stede gasps to Ed, heels digging into the wood of the deck. "But I can't let you win this."

"I don't want to be stubborn," Ed mumbles, trying desperately to yank the bit of rope with Roach's scarf tied on it completely over to him. "I said I would work on that."

"You did."

"But you can't win this, love. I've got Wee John on my side, and He's barely even paying attention."

It's true. John is mostly sewing away, one strong leg stamped down on the back of their end of the rope. He seems content, occasionally pausing to offer an encouraging shout.

Ferguson wonders if John is hungry yet. Probably not, but he knows that he's hungry. And bored. Especially with Olivia about to leave.

She flutters off into the night, and he ponders his options.

He decides to wait until they're mostly quiet again, grunting and groaning and yanking each other forward and back.

Then, he stands, yawns, stretches, and lets out the loudest and angriest meow he can.

The rope slips out of everyone's hands.

"Was that the cat?" Pete asks, agog.

Ferguson lets out another softer chirp and runs over to rub against his legs.

"He feels left out," Lucius says. "Poor thing."

Suddenly he's surrounded by petting hands and soft voices all offering compliments of how he's a very good cat and ratter and raid beast and wouldn't he like some fresh fish? Of course he would.

He very much would.

--

"This is Jim," Jim says. "Be nice to him, okay? He's nervous."

The Italian Greyhound certainly is. A shivery, shaking, mess of a creature that lives for being handfed cheese and not much else as far as Ferguson can tell.

But he does his best to tolerate being followed around by him. In part because he does love the many knives bearing human Jim, who clearly likes this odd little beast for whatever reasons. That he also gets fed bits of cheese along with the dog might also be an influencing factor.

But that's neither here nor there.

He endures the questions. Has he ever fallen into the water, did they rescue him, was it done quickly, did they give him cheese afterwards, etc.

He endures the snuggles at night. After all, he does have all the extra long fur Jim the dog doesn't, and he shivers so when the salt air goes cold.

"I think they like each other," Jim nudges Izzy, pointing to the cat curling up on top of the dog.

"I'd hope so. Neither of them are going anywhere, so they'll have to get along."

"Just like you and Stede."

"Well-"

"It is," Jim continues.

"...Maybe a bit. I'm not laying on him though."

"I said that about Olu," Jim smirks. "Insisted it wasn't like that-"

"You and Olu like each other though."

"So do Ferguson and Jim, and you and Stede. You guys are way better than you used to be, and you sit by them for storytime every night with your head in Ed's lap-"

"I'll get Lucius to sketch this a couple of times, so we each have a copy," Izzy interrupts. "Don't get up, let me go get him!"

"You're running away from your feelings! Literally!"

Jim looks to Ferguson. "He is. We know it, all three of us. He'll catch up eventually."