#and im hoping that ill be able to fall asleep now

[despite-everything]

so when id gotten home an hour and a half ago there were cops staked out outside my building and i think they've finally left... had me shaking and lightheaded every time i heard a sound

[pnfc]

i haint watched the dang chibisode and idk if ill actually watch it with sound on sdfjk but i have a hurt feeling about them casually imbuing perry with speech for a one off gag because the idea that he needs to talk to communicate is fake. we had 4 seasons of wacky magic hijinks cartoon where perry never needed verbal speech to communicate. they couldve done this gag at any point in the show but they didn't, and the fact that they didn't felt significant. perry's muteness is such a core part of his character, to me, to the way i conceive of him/write him. i don't wanna overreact to a goofy little side cartoon (even tho i'm doing it anyway) but it's still the characters, and it still upsets me! ok that's it i've said my piece

[toastsnaffler]

taking an extra half an amfexa before I leave work bc [redacted] (popular artist) is playing my city tn and I'll need it to cope with how awful the traffics gonna be when I'm on the bus 💀

[wabblebees]

.

[todayisafridaynight]

how's your wrist?

still hurts, but feelin a lil better compared to yesterday :]

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

uh oh! worlds stupidest little guy used the wrong lotion and now everything smells like my childhood bathroom and the year is 2016 and its february which means its almost valentines day which is perhaps the most accursed date on the calendar and the year is 2016 and your least favorite little guy is in full blown survival panic mode!

[rafeandonlyrafe]

separate lines

words: 600 (+ three images)

warnings: entire fic is through phone calls/text messages, parental death (ward), established relationship, kinda protective rafe but its cute he just misses his girl, includes pictures of "readers" face/body, kind of illusions to sex (like barely!), overall pretty fluffy

“rafey!” you squeal as you answer your phone seconds after it rings. “how's it going?”

“well, everything is still standing.” rafe huffs out. you can practically hear the stress in his voice.

“that's good, baby. i miss you a lot.” sure, he just left this morning to drive back to the outer banks, but that doesn't change the fact that you miss him anytime he's away from you.

“god, i miss you too. if rose didn't need me here id still be-

“i know.” you cut rafe off. “you're back for three days with your family. it'll be fine and then we will be back together.”

you know being back in the outer banks is stressful for rafe after everything that happened. the mess with barry, the pogues, and then all culminating in his dad dying. when you decided to go a couple hours away to college, you still thought you'd have to persuade your boyfriend to come with you, to leave the only life he's ever known, but he jumped at the chance.

you live in a luxury townhouse right near downtown. you're even able to walk to most of your classes, of course with rafe by your side.

“you're right.” rafe hums. “we are figuring out the will stuff tomorrow morning.”

“i wish i could be there for you. text or call if you need anything.” you have classes tomorrow, but you'd drop anything if rafe really needed you.

“yeah just… text me updates, please? even if you just do the laundry or something. it helps to know.”

“of course i will.” you smile, hearing some commotion in the background. “and rafey? give wheezie a hug for me.”

“is that y/n?” you hear her voice in the background, then the fumbling of the phone being handed off.

“y/n!” wheezie squeals.

“wheezie, my girl!”

--

--

“how are you getting to class?” rafe asks, looking into the room where proceedings are about to start, going over his fathers will and who gets what. he knows most of it will go to rose, most likely the house and the real estate company. he doesn't really care. he has a new life now, one with you.

“amber is gonna drive me and pick me up. and no, her boyfriend will not be there.” you giggle, knowing even though amber and her boyfriend steven have been together since third grade, rafe would still worry with him around.

“and you're going to poli sci and then your geology lab, right?” rafe has your schedule memorized, but he likes to hear your confirmation anyways.

“yup!” you nod, even though rafe can't see you. “im excited for todays lab, actually. it's not rock identification, which you know i suck at.”

rafe let's out a soft laugh, having sat and listened to your complaining about rocks for hours already this semester.

“rafe, it's starting soon.” rose says, her words being picked up by you, otherwise rafe probably would have just ignored her in favor of keeping talking.

“alright, baby. hope it all goes well and doesn't take too long. i love you.” you coo into the phone.

“love you more.”

--

--

“home tomorrow.” rafe whispers softly, not wanting to wake up anyone else in the house. he's exhausted, so they must be too. it was a long day with lots of legal jargon, but everything got divided up about how he expected it to. 

most to rose, then the additional savings divided up evenly between him, sarah, and wheezie.

“im glad.” you whisper back, matching his tone even though you're home alone. “i ordered a cute pair of pajamas to wear to help me sleep. you know how much i struggle without you.”

“your insomnia cure.” rafe smiles, remembering what you called him after you first started sharing a bed, able to easily relax into him and fall into a true deep sleep.

“mhm.” you hum out, letting out a yawn. “do you mind staying on the call until i fall asleep?”

“baby, ill stay on all night.”

--

sfw tags: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie

[emotionalsupport-ljh]

Breaking and Entering

You don't want Jihoon to worry.

Fluff (a miniscule amount of angst) - woozi x fem!reader

A hell of a lot of words for a sick fic :D Described as "princess treatment" by my friends 😌

AO3 link

Word Count: 3.1k

////////////////////////////////////

Before you even open your eyes, you feel a scratch in your throat that burns like hell. You reach for the water on your nightstand and take large gulps trying to soothe the pain. As your eyes open, they droop heavily and take a moment to adjust to the early morning sunlight that makes its way past your curtains. A chill suddenly attacks the uncovered parts of your body. You duck back under your comforter only to have an oppressive heat come in waves that cause sweat to cling to your forehead. On top of all that, you can’t breathe out of your left nostril. You’re terribly sick.

As you lament in your miserable state, a notification brightens your phone and you have to shut your eyes. You blink them trying to get used to the light, but all it does is give you a headache. You brave through the pain to turn your brightness down and check the notification. It’s a text from your boyfriend, Jihoon.

Jiji: good morning babe~ 😘

You: Good morning!

Jiji: what are ur plans for today? work?

You: No

You pause for a moment before continuing your response. You wonder if it’s a good idea to tell him that you aren’t feeling well today. On one hand, he might want to know that kind of stuff so that he can take care of you. On the other hand, it could cause some unnecessary stress in his already stressful life. Also, with his busy schedule, he probably wouldn’t be able to do much. You decide ultimately that this illness would probably be over quickly, and you don’t want to make Jihoon worry about nothing a little cough medicine and tea would fix.

You: I'm going to take the day off to relax and be lazy lol 😏

Jiji: that sounds nice

i wish i could do the same 😮‍💨

You: Busy schedule today?

Jiji: yup 🙃 but im excited for our date later this week

You: Me too!

Jiji: i have to go to work

text me later

You: Will do! I love you 🩷

Jiji: love u too~🖤

Putting your phone down and taking the chance to move from your bed to at least retrieve some relief in the form of medicine or warm tea, you feel your muscles ache in a way that makes you never want to move again. For now, you stare at the ceiling with the resolve to get over this silly little cold. You fall asleep soon after and stay asleep for many, many hours.

When you finally awaken again, the chill in your bones still hasn't subsided, no matter how many layers of sheet and blanket cover you. You have to force your eyes to open against the deeper sunlight now pouring through the cracks in your curtains. You power through the discomfort to get them to adjust to the brightness. Again, you reach a hand out for your phone and see that it is afternoon and that you have some missed texts from your boyfriend.

Jiji: hey~

wuts up

Jiji: taking an afternoon nap huh

text me when u see this

The messages were all sent about 45 minutes ago. You feel a little bad about lying, but it only strengthens your resolve to get better and put the whole lie behind you. You text back like normal, hoping that he has the time to read and respond even for just a few minutes.

You: Sorry! I fell asleep watching anime

It doesn’t take too long for a reply to pop-up. You had been dating Jihoon for months now, but you still got butterflies every time he texted you. Even now, aching all over and dripping from your face, he makes you feel a warmth you swore would make you even healthier than you were before.

Jiji: oh rub it in my face 🙄 lol

dont get too far without me

You: I would never!! 😫

How’s it been today? You're not too stressed, right?

Jiji: eh

im coping lol

nothing im not used to

You: Don’t push yourself too hard ok? 🥺

You're doing such a great job!!!!!!

Jiji: thx lol

i gotta go. love u~ 🖤

You: I love you too 🩷

You decide to try to come up with the ultimate healing game plan for the rest of the day. You plot out your meals and activities to maximize the time you can spend getting better. Or at least you try to as you come to realize that sleeping an extra 4 and a half hours without getting out of bed means that you’ve yet to relieve yourself. This kickstarts your game plan as you rush to the bathroom.

You power through the aches in your body to finally brush your teeth and put your hair in a manageable bun for the day. You put on your sweats and some socks to keep warm and make your way to the kitchen where you heat up some soup and make a mug of herbal tea. You take medicine and take it easy all day. The change in scenery from your bedroom to the living room not only motivates your mind to change, but also it motivates your body to move. You swear you already feel better.

Unfortunately, the next two days look the same, and you do not, in fact, feel any better. Even with minimal movement throughout the days, you still manage to leave a mess of dirty dishes, clothes, and tissues strewn about the apartment. You are miserable and finally starting to come to terms with it. The delusion of your ability to heal quickly and on your own was finally starting to dissipate. You thought seeing a doctor was a waste of time, but you start to see the necessity of an appointment the more time you spend with a scratch in your throat and a headache hammering your skull.

The worst part, however, is not the pain, nor is it the constant sweating or the need to breathe through your mouth. No, the worst part is that today is Jihoon’s one day off; you are supposed to be ready to go on a date.

It's a little late in the morning when you wake up. You thrash in your bed frustrated that you are still sick and very tired. When you check your phone, there are no new messages. It isn't unusual for Jihoon to sleep in on his days off. You dread having to tell him the truth that you had been sick all week and couldn’t go out tonight. You could anticipate his response: a string of crying emojis and then a laugh where he says he’s just kidding and he’s fine as long as you get better. He wouldn’t really be okay with it, but he would say he is. He would be really disappointed; he isn’t very good at showing his true emotions, but you know he feels them so deeply. You don’t want to cause him any undue stress or heartbreak. At this point, it unfortunately is inevitable.

You grab your phone and hover over Jihoon’s contact, trying to muster the courage to send your good-morning-text and your confession followed by a long apology and promises to make it all up to him one day. You don’t expect your phone to ring, brandishing a very familiar sweet smiling selfie with the name “Jiji” underneath. You are startled then you take a deep breath, clear your throat, and answer.

“Good morning, my baby,” a sleep-rasped voice calls out from the other side.

“Good morning,” you try to answer in a normal voice, doing your best to hide your congestion.

“You sound different. What’s up?” Jihoon caught on immediately.

You whine a little over the phone, only prolonging the inevitable. There’s only silence from the other side. “I’m sick,” you say, then blurt out, “I’ve been sick for the past three days. I really, really tried to get better, honestly. I’m so sorry, Jiji. I can’t go out tonight.”

Your heart beats quickly in your chest, maybe from the nerves of finally coming clean, maybe from the extra exertion on your sick body. The five seconds it takes for Jihoon to respond feel like five hours. All he says is, “Oh. Okay.” After that, he hangs up the phone, leaving you stunned and with a horrible pit in your stomach.

You’re in shock. The kind of shock people feel after breaking a limb or recovering from a disaster. It pushes every other feeling out of your body. You do your morning routine in a fugue state. When you sit back in your bed, it all hits you at once. Tears stream down your face almost unconsciously, and you lay down with your face in your pillow. Eventually, you fall asleep again, too tired from the illness to continue to cry or feel anything.

Jihoon makes up his mind quickly. After abruptly hanging up the phone, he immediately gets up and goes through his own routine faster than ever, even taking 30 minutes off of his normal workout just to have more time for his own plan. After coming home, he does something a little out of character. He goes to the kitchen to cook something that isn’t chicken breast and white rice.

This surprises his roommates. Soonyoung tries to help him with the big pot of what was so far just stock and vegetables. He gets distracted easily, and it takes him a long time to cut up an onion. Jeonghan takes a picture of Jihoon and sends it in the group chat asking if this is normal behavior for Woozis. Seungkwan tries to taste it before the dish is ready and whines when his hand is met with a smack from a wooden spoon.

“This isn’t for any of you. Leave it alone,” Jihoon says in a stern voice.

“Wait, what? Then who is it for?” Soonyoung raises an eyebrow at him.

“Y/N, my girlfriend. She’s sick.”

The mood in the apartment changes. Now, Jeonghan is texting more furiously in the group chat about how Jihoon cares so much about his poor, sick girlfriend. Seungkwan now insists on tasting the dish the whole way through the cooking process to make sure it’s suitable for such refined tastes as his and yours. Soonyoung calls his mom and asks what the best thing is to cure illnesses. It becomes a whole big thing that has Jihoon a little bit annoyed but also grateful his friends care about you almost as much as he cares about you.

Jihoon’s morning and the better part of his afternoon off of work are then filled with surprise visits from Mingyu, Jun, and Seokmin who bring an array of dishes that could feed you for a month and Minghao who brings a special tea blend that he uses when he's feeling sick. Vernon sends a playlist of chill music for you to listen to while you recover, and Wonwoo writes a list of movies he recommends you watch to rest. Chan makes a special delivery of his grandma's famous kimchi, which has the rest of the boys groaning that they don't get any this time. Joshua sends the best essential oil wax melts so you can indulge in some aromatherapy. Finally, Seungcheol makes sure that Jihoon tells you that he can send anything in the world to your house using his card whether it be medicine or a treat from your favorite bakery or even a new designer pajama set to make sure you are at maximum comfort levels.

As he makes his way over to your apartment, Jihoon feels silly carrying a bunch of bags filled with various gifts from everyone on top of the soup he made that seems to pale in comparison. He curses Jeonghan under his breath for telling everyone his plan to bring you supplies, effectively making him the delivery boy because he is the only person who has the passcode to your apartment. He tries to call you on his way over, now adding his phone to the pile he was juggling. It rings a few times and then goes to voicemail. He tries again and meets the same outcome. He assumes that you’re resting; being sick for multiple days sounds exhausting which is why he is so willing to bring over everything he (and the others) could possibly think of to make you feel better.

Jihoon reaches your front door and knocks loud enough that you would be able to hear it from your room, but soft enough that you wouldn’t wake up if you were resting. He waits a beat before just typing the code and letting himself inside. He makes his way to the kitchen and sets down the various bags on the countertops. Only once his arms are empty does he realize the state of the apartment. He slowly takes in the dirty dishes and various random stuff left on the floor. The trashcan is full, and tea bags litter the countertops. There are tissue boxes everywhere, each one full of used tissues.

He walks slowly to your room and, opening the door, he almost couldn’t make out your sleeping shape on the bed. You’re curled up into a ball under many layers of blankets on one side, and on the other was a pile of clothing. There’s more clothing on the floor. Jihoon goes back to the kitchen and takes a deep breath. He meticulously puts all the food everyone prepared into the fridge, rolls up his sleeves, and decides to start there. He makes a list in his head of all the things he could realistically do in the few hours you would be asleep.

The next moment, Jihoon is elbow deep in soapy water scrubbing dishes and wiping countertops. He finds all the cleaning instruments and proceeds to sweep and vacuum. He fills a trash bag with tissues, tissue boxes, and food containers. He gently tiptoes around your room, gathering up the clothes from the floor, which he assumes are dirty, and putting them in the wash. The clothes on the bed, which he checks are clean, are now folded and put in a hamper for later sorting. He even has time to reheat his soup and make a pretty plating of it paired with some rice and a cup of some of Minghao’s herbal tea.

You awaken when you hear dishes clanking in the kitchen. Someone is in your home. You freeze until the noise stops and begin to get up from your bed. With your legs swung over the side of the bed, ready to stand and possibly defend yourself, the door opens slowly and in walks Jihoon with a tray of dishes.

He looks surprised, then flashes a big smile, then says, “Good, you’re awake. It’s time to eat.”

All you can do is stare at him in disbelief as he sets a tray of soup and rice and tea on your lap. He sits cross-legged in the empty space beside you and scrolls through his phone as if it's the most normal thing in the world.

“W…what’s all this?” you stutter out, utterly confused.

“Lunch,” Jihoon answers nonchalantly.

Looking at him beside you, you realize that there is indeed empty space on your bed for him to sit where there was once a pile of clothes. Tears appear behind your eyes when you look around at the spotless floor of your bedroom. You look at your boyfriend as one tear falls.

“Did you…”

“Yeah, it was a real mess in here.” He turns to look at you and uses his thumb to wipe the one tear from your cheek. “Start eating. I bet you haven’t eaten all day. How are you supposed to get better if you don’t eat?”

He was right. You take a spoonful of broth and bring it to your lips. It tastes wonderful. Alternating between tea and soup and rice, you feel fuller, and the heat from the meal eases your throat just a little more. Jihoon looks at you and sees how happy you look to be having a meal that wasn’t microwaved from a package. You are already almost done with the meal after only a few minutes.

“See, you were hungry, huh?” He teasingly shakes his head.

You lightly push your boyfriend's arm. You make a face, suddenly feeling awkward to be around him. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“What? Why? Because you lied to me for days and didn’t let me take care of you? Or because you canceled our date on the day of because you assumed I cared that we went out somewhere?” he starts sarcastically, “I actually hadn’t thought about it all day.”

“I’m serious, Jiji!” you try to whine but end in a cough. He’s laughing at you as you get a little frustrated.

“I’m seriously not mad. I wish you would’ve told me, but being mad won’t fix anything.” His smile is soft, and he’s looking at you with love in his eyes.

“I’m really sorry. I just didn’t want to worry you. I didn’t know it would last this long. Honestly, I don’t know what I have, and you probably shouldn't be sitting so close to me right now.” You weakly try to push Jihoon away, but he sits like a rock, not budging at all.

“I’m fine,” he chuckles, “The plague couldn’t even keep me away from you.” He leans to kiss your forehead.

All your muscles relax as the last few bites on your plate disappear. Jihoon takes the empty tray in one hand and uses the other to guide you to your feet with him. He wordlessly walks you both out of the room. You see that not only is the entire apartment clean, but there are small gifts left out on the coffee table.

“What is all this?” you ask your boyfriend as take a seat on the couch, waiting for him to put the empty plates and bowls from the tray in the sink.

He takes a seat next to you and rubs the back of his neck with one hand and avoids eye contact when he answers, “The guys heard you weren’t feeling great, so, of course, they had to help out, too.” He goes through and shows you the wax melts, medicine, and self-care products. He also tells you about your new stock of homemade meals from the best cooks in the group. You get really excited about the kimchi from Chan’s grandma. He sends you Vernon’s playlist and Wonwoo’s recommendations. He even shows you the text Seungcheol sent him about using his card for whatever you might need.

Everything is perfect for the rest of the evening that was supposed to be a fancy, romantic date night. It turns out that watching movies and listening to music while snuggling and talking is the best medicine for illness and the most romantic date you have ever been on.

[euthymiaaa]

— a lover who is sick prompt *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

im sick & delirious, so i am inspired, enjoy!

❥ getting a text that your partner is just a bit under the weather

❥ them warning you not to see them because they don’t want to get you sick

❥ “i’m swinging by your house no matter what, i don’t care the slightest if i get ill”

❥ preparing them soup and buying them medicine

❥ rushing to their house as fast as possible to be able to take care of them

❥ them being so delirious that they can’t tell if seeing you at their front door is a dream or not

❥ “is this a fever dream? i thought i told you not to come darling?”

❥ pushing them under the covers of their bed; encouraging them to rest since you’re here

❥ “how do you feel? how can i make you feel better?”

❥ wiping all the sweat off their forehead with a cold towel

❥ letting their head rest against your chest

❥ “you’re burning up, are you sure this is just a small cold?”

❥ giving them medicine by putting it in your mouth first, then passing it through a tender kiss

❥ personally feeding them the soup, not allowing them lift a finger

❥ “should i warm up the soup a bit more? it got cold, even if i tried coming here as fast as possible”

❥ softly reading their favorite book out-loud to put them at ease

❥ humming gently while playing with their hair

❥ “is the medicine making you drowsy? you can sleep you know”

❥ holding hands and delicately stroking their hand with your thumb

❥ peppering kisses to their cheek, forehead and temple

❥ whispering sincere words of affection, anything sweet to take their mind off of being sick

❥ “i hope you get well as soon as possible love, it hurts to see you suffering like this”

❥ not leaving their side until they fall asleep and you accidentally let slumber take over as well

❥ waking up with a sore throat, but it doesn’t matter as long as you’re with them

❥ “who’s going to take care of both of us now silly?”

[pathologicalreid]

spenwer weid hanahaki pwease 💐💐💐

perennial | S.R.

unrequited love brings spencer to his death bed, unless you can rescue him

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: hanahaki au, spencer reid gets a degree in yearnology, terminal illness, happy ending, surgery, doctors, this is a made up disease, mentions of other diseases like cancer and briefly mentions reid's addiction and schizophrenia, and death. word count: 3.01k a/n: if you don't know what hanahaki disease is, neither did i until bri asked. look here for some background. i did not come up with this concept. im not that creative.

He had never quite been able to pinpoint the date he fell in love with you. He wasn’t sure if it was the say you laughed at his jokes or the way your hair shone in the sunlight. He just knew that he loved you, and it was killing him.

It wasn’t killing him in the colloquial sense, it was physically going to end his life. The deep, brutal love he felt for you had been slowly chipping away at him for well over a year now, ever since you waltzed into his life. Haphazardly, he tossed the packet that his doctor had given him onto his coffee table, the papers ungracefully fanning out over the oak surface as he did.

Leaving his apartment today had effectively drained him of energy, prompting him to call out of work – something he had been doing with alarming frequency these days. Luckily, Hotch was able to give him leeway, but it couldn’t be long until Spencer got into trouble. Someone else would notice, he was sure you already were.

Yours was the face he always saw when he closed his eyes. If he didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn your features were tattooed on the inside of his eyelids. Despite his exhaustion, he was wary of falling asleep. He didn’t want to see you in his dreams, lest it cause his health to deteriorate even more.

Trying to take a deep breath, something caught in his throat, causing him to stumble over to his pathetic-looking balcony. Leaning over the railing, he lost himself in a coughing fit, letting the petals that were poisoning his lungs fly out of his mouth.

Once Spencer got his bearings back, he straightened up. Blinking tears out of his eyes, he watched the purple flower petals float away in the wind. He was watching the petals when he noticed you, walking determinedly along the sidewalk, your jacket flowing behind you. Was it five o’clock already? Had you already gotten out of work?

Splitting himself in two, he hoped you weren’t going to come to his door while also hoping you were headed to see him. He knew that the dull ache in his chest only grew worse when you were closer, but the possibility of seeing your beautiful eyes provided him with the bravery that he needed to confront that pain.

Watching you disappear into the apartment building, he waited until he heard a knock at his front door. He took the wobbly steps required to reach the front door, clearing his throat, and letting a petal fall to the floor just before he undid the lock and deadbolt.

You swung the door open, not even waiting for him to open the door. He waited as you studied him, eyes flittering across his body – just taking in the state of him.

Spencer had never been overly large or muscular, he had been lanky pretty much from the get-go, but over the past year, he had become frail. You swallowed thickly as you took in the way his sweater practically hung off of him, “Hi, Spence.”

His chest ached at the familiar nickname, everything about you was familiar. “Hi, Y/N,” he greeted politely, and he watched your confidence falter for just a moment before he silently pulled the door open. “You can come in if you want,” he felt as though there were an angel and a devil on his shoulders. One would beckon for you to enter the apartment, and the other wanted to banish you. The only problem was that he wasn’t sure which was the angel, and which was the devil.

Nodding, you stepped into the apartment, your shoes tapping against the hardwood before you took them off. His throat tickled at the recognition that you remembered his preferences for shoes in his apartment. Shoving your hands in your jean pockets, you peered up at him, “What happened to you?” You asked with concern violently apparent in your tone.

Narrowing his eyes, he cocked his head to the side, “What do you mean?” He had to bite his tongue from saying you happened to me.

“Hotch said you called off, and I noticed you had been doing that a lot recently,” you said, your voice a gentle caress.

Your observations of him sent him into another coughing fit, and he silently hoped you wouldn’t notice the flower petals that scattered the floor. Purple anemones created a pattern of lovesickness in the entirety of his apartment. His skin burned where your hands landed on him, gently ushering him to the couch.

Gratefully, he accepted the tissue that you had held out for him, allowing him to conceal his flowers. “I’m worried about you, Spence,” you confided in him, unable to hide the silver that lined your eyes.

He waved you off, shaking his head as he launched into another coughing fit. Once he gathered himself, he looked up, avoiding your eyes, “I had a doctor’s appointment.”

Your eyes widened in recognition, “Did you finally get your cough checked out?” The inquiry was innocent enough, but he couldn’t help but cringe inwardly at the words that had come out of your mouth. How was it that something as pure as worry could cause him so much pain?

He didn’t answer your question, leaning back against the supple leather of his couch. With a sigh, he allowed his body to meld into the cushions, it was almost enough for him to just fall asleep.

Flinching as you set a hand on his knee, he finally met your eyes, “Spencer, are you sick?”

He knew what you were asking, you wanted to know if he was ailing. Maybe if he had cancer or something that could be removed from his body. Maybe his opioid addiction had finally caught up with him. He didn’t think he looked jaundiced, but maybe his liver was failing.

Perhaps you were thinking about something more psychological, he was at the age where he could have a schizophrenic break. You knew very well that that was a fear of his.

There was also a strong probability that his years in the BAU were just starting to catch up with him. “Spencer?” You breathed, holding your breath as you were afraid of what he could be hiding from you.

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” he was sick. A patient in the doctor’s waiting room had called him a love-sick fool, and they had been right.

You spluttered for a moment as you searched for the right thing to say. Telling him you were sorry felt like a waste of words, an apology couldn’t help him now. “Is there a cure?” You asked him softly, leaning closer to him until he could smell your floral perfume – the world was cruel.

Taking a moment to clear his throat, Spencer answered your question while tucking a flower petal up his sleeve, “There’s a surgery, but it comes with… risks.”

His answer didn’t satisfy you; risks weren’t enough for you to sit and watch him die. You pulled your hand off of his knee, sitting on the floor and folding your hands in your lap, “But without it, you’ll die.” It was clear to you that whatever was going on with Spencer was serious, and if his illness was fatal, you would do anything in your power to help him.

“Most likely,” he confirmed, the both of you knowing he had already run every probability relating to his own survival. It was all he could do to not reach out to you as your teary eyes finally flooded over.

Wiping furiously at your face, you scrunched up your nose in frustration, “You have to do it, Spence.” Your voice was insistent.

Sighing, he shook his head despondently, “I can’t.” He noticed the way you bristled at his answer, but he couldn’t elaborate.

The risks that came with his surgery would be devastating. He would lose you. You wouldn’t die, but every memory that he had of you would die. That was a sacrifice that Spencer wasn’t willing to make.

Truth be told, he was afraid. He was afraid of forgetting you. Forgetting the way you sang along to every song on the radio – even if you didn’t know the words. Forgetting the way you liked to dance in the kitchen while you cooked. Forgetting the way you protected the people you cared about so fiercely.

Forgetting you was a nonnegotiable term. He’d rather die in love with you than live in a world where he had never known that feeling.

His fear of forgetting you greatly outweighed his fear of death.

He took a deep breath, which only resulted in more coughing. Your soft hands guided him tenderly, helping him to lie down on the couch. “Will you look after her?” He blurted, looking up at you as you returned from the kitchen.

Setting a glass of water down on the coffee table, you crossed your arms in front of your chest, “Look after whom?”

“My mom,” he clarified, his voice gravelly from all of the speaking he had done today.

Your lips parted in surprise, evidently that had not been what you were expecting him to say. “You want me to take care of your mother after you…” you couldn’t even finish the sentence. “You won’t even fight to stay with her.”

He couldn’t find the courage to explain his sickness to you, so he let you form your own conclusions. If you wanted to operate under the assumption that he was a coward, so be it. At least he still had you. “I can’t fight it, Y/N. I don’t expect you to understand, but I do want you to respect that.”

Shaking your head, you looked down at the floor, not meeting his eyes anymore. Looking at your pretty eyes was a privilege he had lost, it seemed. “I can’t,” your voice wavered as you stepped backward, stumbling over a pile of books on the floor before you turned and walked out the door, taking bits and pieces of him with you.

Laid back on his couch, Spencer wiped his own tears before that too became arduous. Left in his apartment to rot, he thought about this disease. This unexplainable disease that he had never even heard of before being referred to a specialist.

There was one cure for Hanahaki Disease, and that was to turn unrequited love into requited love. You had the ability to cure him, and all you needed to do was tell him you loved him.

And it had to be the truth.

Even if he did get the surgery, he could return to work. He could meet you again, which would confuse the entire team, including you, but he’d still be damaged. His doctor had told him just that morning that his lungs were past the point of no return.

You deserved better than that. You deserved someone who had the lung capacity to kiss you breathless. You deserved someone with the guts to tell you how they feel.

All of that was purely hypothetical because in order to re-meet you, he’d need to survive the surgery.

The surgery he refused to get.

Either way, he was going to lose you. That realization knocked the air out of his lungs, causing him to turn over on the couch in a fit of coughs. Bringing a new meaning to ‘hacking up a lung,’ he continued his fit until there was a pile of purple flower petals beneath his face.

It was fitting that the flower petals were anemones. He had thought that from the very beginning. Anemones were perennials. Perennial, meaning lasting for an infinite time – enduring. Just like his love for you.

When the surgery was first offered to him, he challenged the doctors. Insisting that his love for you could endure any surgery. He was a man of science; he didn’t fully comprehend how a cardiothoracic surgery could affect your memory. Then again, he was coughing up fresh flower petals on the daily.

The click of the latch on his door caught his attention, and you stepped through the door. He was surprised to see you, and even more surprised to note the red rimming your eyes. You had been crying – over him. “I thought you had left,” he murmured, watching you carefully.

Nodding absentmindedly, you kicked off your shoes. “I did, I… I was going to go home, but on my way to the metro, I passed that deli that I know you like. You need to eat, I know you haven’t been eating right - or at all, actually.” You took a deep, shaky breath, setting the deli bag on the coffee table. “It’s just soup, I thought it might help soothe your throat,” you informed him, rubbing the back of your neck as you crouched next to him.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Spencer insisted, even if the smell coming from the bag made his mouth water.

Wiping a hand down your face, you cleared your throat, “I was thinking about you. What if I went with you to your next doctor’s appointment? There could be a clinical study or something available. My college roommate works at Johns Hopkins now, maybe she has an in.” The hope in your eyes was almost enough to break his heart.

He smiled at you sadly, “There’s nothing, I’ve asked.” That part was true, he had called in every favor that he had in order to find answers and solutions. Either no one knew what he was talking about, or they told him things he didn’t want to hear.

Tears welled in your eyes again and he reached out to wipe them from your cheeks, his hands trembling in time with your bottom lip. “I refuse to believe that this is the end. This can’t be how it ends.” You looked at him pleadingly, “Are you sure you won’t get the surgery?”  

He nodded regretfully. Losing all of his memories of you was a fate worse than death.

Bowing your head, you let loose a sob, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Spence.” You apologized incessantly to him, “There’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”

His own eyes grew teary until he was just looking at your outline, a blurry visage of the girl that he was dying for. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” he insisted, reaching over and smoothing down your hair. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me,” he whispered, having a hard time speaking as emotions caused his throat to swell.

 “Please get the surgery,” you spouted, eyes widening as if you hadn’t even expected yourself to say that. “Please, Spencer if you don’t do it for yourself, then do it for me,” your words started to merge into pleas.

Silent, Spencer watched you as you unknowingly begged him to forget you.

Taking a shuddering breath, you looked at him, watery eyes boring into his. “If for no one else, then save your life for me.”

“It’s not that easy,” he breathed.

You brushed off his excuses, “Spencer, I need you. I need you to get this surgery because I absolutely have to have you in my life. Please, you’re my- I’m…” you faltered over your words. He watched as you desperately searched for the right thing to say, “god, can’t you see I’m in love with you?”

Spencer’s chest ached as he grew fearful. You didn’t know what you were saying.

“I love you!” You shouted, surprising even yourself. “I love you, and I need to keep loving you. So, I need you to get this surgery.” You swallowed thickly, “Please, Spencer.”

He felt like he was out of tears to cry, “Just so I understand, what kind of love are we discussing?” Platonic love wouldn’t do it, not for this.

Leaning your head back, you stared at the ceiling helplessly, “Like the soul-crushing, yearning, I’d-marry-you-tomorrow-if-you-asked kind of love.”

Nodding slowly, Spencer leaned forward, and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, prompting you to kiss him back. It was soft and careful – the two of you were oh, so careful. “I love you too,” he said, knowing damn well that his yearning had nearly killed him. “But for the record, I’d do a much better job of asking you to marry me,” he pointed that out because he did plan on marrying you one day.

Laughing despite the tears that were still flowing down your cheeks in steady streams, you tilted your head at him, “Does that mean you’ll do the surgery?”

For you, he’d move heaven and earth, but he knew that the surgery wouldn’t be necessary. “Come with me to my next appointment, you can meet my doctor, I’m sure he’d love to meet you.” Spencer’s doctor had, after all, heard everything about you.

“Okay, of course, I will,” you told him, burying your face in your hands. “I’ve been sitting on that for almost a year now,” you admitted, causing his heart to clench.

Propping himself up on his elbow, he eyed you curiously. He wasn’t expecting to return to his old self immediately, but Spencer felt like there was some sort of weight lifted from his chest – like getting over a bad cold. “Hey, Y/N?”

Your eyes widened, “Oh! Your soup!” You moved to get up and grab a spoon from Spencer’s kitchen.

Quickly, he reached up and grabbed your hand, tugging on it until you toppled down onto the couch. You landed gracefully, being careful so you didn’t hurt him. “Actually, I was thinking about something a little more along these lines,” he said, poking his head forward and kissing you again.

Nothing but slow, gentle kisses today. The two of you had all of the time in the world. He leaned back onto the pillows, never separating from you. Finally, he let the scent of your floral perfume drown his senses.

For once, it didn’t fill him with dread.

[comet-forgot-you]

heyyy i hope you’re having a great day :))

i saw requests for bunny amber and i was like okayyy maybe they can cook something up 🗣‼️

maybe something about reader and amber just chilling, sleeping in bed in the morning and and amber gets so needy for them? it’s totally in youre right to ignore it or turn it down btw 🫡

-🐕

OH MY GOODNESS IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT MY WHOLE LIFE HI 🐕 ANON :DD

smut. 18+ pls.

do not repost for any reason.

amber was insatiable. despite the seemingly endless orgasms you had given her the night before, she still wanted needed more.

she had woken up, another mess between her thighs from whatever dream she had before her neediness had gotten too much to stay asleep. her breath was ragged as she glances over to your sleeping form, ears perking to listen to your quiet breathing.

she tried to go back to sleep, she really did. she knew you would give her what she wanted in the morning when you were awake, but the wetness between her thighs only grew.

she sat up, thin sheets of your shared bed falling off of her, the cold air of your room meeting her warm skin.

ill be so quick, wont wake em’ up

she thought as she straddled your bare thighs, grinding down slightly. a breathy moan fell from her lips at the stimulation. she stares down at your sleeping figure as you tried to cover yourself from the cool air. amber pulls the sheets over her shoulders, letting them cover you as best they could. she waits for you to stop moving, suppressing her moans as your thighs brush against her needy cunt. she leans forwards, arms on either side of you as she grinds down against your thigh.

her hips move frantically, trying desperately to rid herself of the ache between her legs. “pleasepleaseplease,” she mumbles to herself, trying her best to convince herself to get off without your help. she knows its no use, she hadnt been able to get off without your guidance since your first time together.

her lips meet your bare chest, kissing the skin before taking your nipple into her mouth, muffling her moans. the sensation wakes you up, your fingers tangling in her hair as you come to. “ambs,” you mumble sleepily, the feeling of her cunt against your thigh sending waves of heat through your tired body.

amber lifts off of your chest, letting your nipple go with a pop. “please, baby. needed you s’ bad im sorry,” she mumbles, hips not stopping against your thighs. you shake your head, trying to wake yourself up.

“t’s okay,” you mumble groggily, fingers massaging the base of her ears. the sensation has amber moaning loudly, hips stilling, her head clouding with you. you. only you.

your free hands moves to guide her hips against your thigh, thumb rubbing the skin soothingly. “need to cum, please,” amber murmurs, burying her face into your neck, placing a wet kiss against the skin.

“go on baby, i got you,” you mumble. your fingers against her ears spurs her on more, hips frantically grinding against you. her desperation drips down your skin as you push her to her orgasm, your teeth sinking into her shoulder. amber whines, her orgasm washing over her.

you help her ride down her high, mumbling praises into her ear. “didnt get enough last night, hmm?” you whisper into her skin, your hand on her hip moving go tug at her tail. amber yelps, bucking against your thigh.

“stop, t’s so sensitive. please, m’ sorry.”

“what, you didnt get enough last night, gotta make sure you get your fill now. be a good bunny and take it, yeah?”

[kyday]

Solace | Kate Bishop

Summary: It's one of those nights again where Kate disappears and doesn't come back until it's early morning. You have finally had enough. warnings: bad writing (sorry not sorry), few swear words. light angst with a happy ending. enjoy!! wordcount: 1200+ ------------------

Katiee 💘: hey love, i know you’re at work right now, but im just telling you that ill be busy the entire day. I have so much to do today so i might not be able to open my phone as often.

You: hi babyyy, its fine. i get it,  just make sure to text me once everything  is over, okay? love you.

Katiee 💘: of course, dont worry. love you too, mwuah! 9:23 am

It was 11:34 pm, the flickering lights of NYC fluttered outside your window, and the constant noise of cars passing by was nothing new. You had been up all night waiting for a reply from your girlfriend, Kate.

Her last reply was in the morning, after that— radio silence. Her silence was unnerving, although you had gotten used to her doing this, it never was this drastic. You kept opening your phone every time it turned on, expecting it was her message, but still; nothing.

You: babyy, are you free noww? if not, i hope you finish up soon. mwuah. 6:02 pm

You:

heyy, i know this is probably just one of your busy days but are you donee? lucky misses you already.  text me when you get this. 7:35 pm 

You:

kate, Im getting worried. you haven't been answering the entire day. is everything fine? please text me once you see this. 9:00 pm

You:

Kate??? Please tell me you’re okay. I'm worried sick. 9:58 pm

You anxiously paced around your bedroom, at the corner of the room Lucky was sleeping on his bed. He was planning on staying up with you but at 10 pm he accidentally fell asleep. You make your way to the dining room, leaving a light on— you’ll wait for Kate here.

You can feel your eyes slowly giving up, trying to keep yourself up— you try to rub your face to stay awake a bit more. 

This hasn’t been the first time Kate has done this. Ever since last year when she hit that large bell tower, she had changed. There were times you often pretended to not know when she had cuts or bruises— she was a bad liar. You can often see her limping or wincing every time she moves.

You never questioned her about it though. You didn't want to overwhelm her especially since her mother got sent to jail for murdering people. But ever since that— it seemed like she was burying herself in her work more and more. The cuts or bruises were more visible, you remember when she didn't come home for a day and she blamed it on her cousin who was in town and wanted some tour around NYC.

Right as you were about to fall asleep, you heard the sound of keys clattering and curses being mumbled as the person entered the front door. You recognized the voice to be Kate. “Fuck, fuck fuck.” 

She stopped in her tracks when she saw you standing in front of the couch. There was a moment of silence between you, “Where the hell have you been?” You questioned in disbelief. She puts down her bow on the nearest table, you watch her intently.

“The company had me go overtime since there were extra projects due. Look, I sorry-” 

She explains but you quickly cut her off. “Oh my god, then why the hell do you bring your fucking bow or why couldn't you even text me once? Do you think I'm stupid Kate?” She sighs, massaging her temple.

“Y/n, let's not do this right now.” She mumbles, giving you a tired look. “I'm tired, we can talk about this in the morning.” You shook your head immediately.

You stepped closer to her. “No, we are talking about this now. Because in the morning you’ll be gone even before I wake up. Goddamit, I'm not oblivious! I know that your work isn't from seven am to eleven fucking pm!” Kate is starting to become more irritated with you, trying to bite her tongue from saying anything.

“What the hell are you hiding from me? I was worried sick, I waited up until what? Eleve-” You look at the clock. 12:10 am. “Its fucking midnight!” Kate knows she deserves this, but she's tired, way too tired to fight right now.

“Who said you had to fucking wait for me?” She replies, stunning you.

You let out a sarcastic laugh, “Oh my god, maybe because I'm your girlfriend, Kate! Have you ever thought of that?”

As the tension in the room thickened, Kate's expression softened, and she let out a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to worry you," she said, her voice tinged with exhaustion. "I know I've been distant lately, and I haven't been completely honest with you."

You can feel your frustration, but you are also worried. “Then why, Kate? Why do you keep shutting me out? Why are you not telling me the truth?” Kate looks down in guilt, her superhero duties have been such a huge thing for her that she forgot her true priority, you.

“I haven't been honest with you..” She starts off.

“No shit Sherlock.” You mumble, earning a smile from her.

She coughs, “I know this may uh- this may seem unbelievable but I've been working with Hawkeye to bring this organization down.” She stopped to see your reaction, but your face was like stone. “And just— today we were so close to getting them but they got away.” Kate continues, her voice turning into a whisper at the end, you can hear the disappointment in her voice.

“But you didn't have to hide it from me, Kate.” You start, tears welled up in Kate’s eyes.

“I didn't want to make you worry, I'm so sorry.” She whispers.

You walk over to her and wipe her tears. “I'm always worrying about you, you know that. It doesn't matter how crazy your story is. Hell, if you told me you were fighting aliens, I would believe you. Because I trust you, Kate. And I need you to put that same trust in me.” You explain, hugging her.

You can feel her nod against your chest. “No more secrets, okay?” 

“Okay.” She mumbles, latching onto you.

You chuckle, “Come on, we can cuddle in bed.” She protests for a second, saying she wants to lie down on the floor. But you manage to convince her into going to the bedroom for cuddles.

She plops down on the mattress, and you follow behind her. “I'm sorry again, I won't do it again, love.” She looks up at your eyes, you smile at her. 

“It's okay now. Just go to bed, okay?” She nods, and she inches closer to you before pressing her lips onto yours. “Goodnight baby.”

“Goodnight love.” Kate mumbles tiredly, cuddling up to you. And for a moment, the loud cars outside quieted down, and the bright city lights weren't so bright anymore. 

Kate realized that she could only have this comfort with you.

[thecynthh]

smart ass - M.S pt 2

synopsis - matt’s not doing to well with his schooling but is determined to get his degree and pass his classes. one essay which is a huge part of their grade haunts him with a bad mark, luckily y/n is willing to him him

notes - college setting, matt gets more attention ! not proofread!

authors notes - sooo i hope yalls like this, its shorter than i would like it to be but nonetheless its out! hope you guys like this one and i promise ill be updating again soon. also taglist soon! ill be asking who wants to be on it very soon and making an official intro and masterlist soon. thank you to everyone who enjoyed the first part of smart ass!

——————————————————————————

——————————————————————————

6:14 pm

friday night rolled around faster than i thought it would, i strip off my diner uniform laying down in my bed in just my undergarments. i lay out a large sigh letting myself melt into my bed. 

my phone buzzed beside me with a notification posted on my lock screen. 

Matt S 🐼 

8120 palace road 7 pm, see u soon :) 6:18 pm

i drop my phone back down, ill just close my eyes for a second, cus that shift really took it out of me. my eyes fell and a light sleep rushed over me. 

————————————————————————

10:17

buzz. buzz. buzz.

buzz. buzz. buzz. 

i swiftly sit up and hear the repetitive ring of my cell phone. i see many notifications from my multiple social media apps and from matt. oh shit. MATT! I completely forgot about him!  

Matt S 🐼

hey are u still coming over? 7:32pm

i know we agreed on 7 but if you need time just tell me 7:55

just get over here when u’re able too, please get here safe 8:57pm

oh shit oh shit oh shit. i quickly slip on some sweats and a baggy crew neck and grabs my school bag, im glad i thought about packing it before work today. i swipe up my laptop from my small desk and dash out the door. my car unlocks as i drop everything that was in my arms onto the seat next to me and step on the pedal getting there as fast as i possibly could. 

i see the outside of the larger house neighborhood and finally get to the house I was told to come too, pulling into the driveway. I see a silhouette of a man in one of the windows. 

i grab all of my belongings scrambling to the door, clicking the doorbell. I hear a melodic tune ring throughout the house. footsteps grace the front door as the door swings open. matt's eyes widen as they scan my body. 

He pushes the storm door open and says “oh you came.”

“im SO sorry matt, i came home after my shift and i ended up falling asleep on my bed because there was this mishap at the diner and i got blamed for it and i swear to god my boss is such an idiot and im so fed up with his bullshit.” i take a deep breath in “and then i know we agreed  again i fell asleep like a goddamn idiot.”

he just stared at me like i was the idiot, “im sorry is what i meant to say.” i continued 

he chuckles a little before stepping back slightly giving me space to enter, “hey its alright just come on in. follow me.” he says using his hand signaling to come along. 

we make it to a fairly large bedroom, i see a gaming setup squished onto a desk that was clearly not meant for housing gaming paraphernalia. “you can throw whatever we need onto the bed, we can just study there. and get comfortable. I know it's late but i'm still okay to stay up and we can even order coffee and some food as well if we get hungry. there’s not much in the fridge but chris’ soda if i’m being honest.”

“i’m alright for right now so let’s just get started on studying” i say to him.  

————————————————————————

1:29

“did you get that?” i ask matt after reviewing what we just went through. 

“yuuuup” he says with a smile, i noticed that his eyes squint when he smiles or laughs, its cute. i don't really think he got half of what i was saying but i think i got my point across.

“ i think it’s a good time to take a break, and plus we’ve been at this for 2 hours already.” i lay my head down against his plethora of pillows and just take a deep breath in. he copies me and comes falling down onto his bed.

i feel his weight shift as he reaches over for a remote to turn on the tv in front of us booting up netflix. moving down to his recently watched “brooklyn 99” begins to play as i hear the familiar voice of andy samberg talking. the theme song plays as i look over the boy beside me. 

“you like brooklyn 99?” i ask him with a furrowed brow pasted across my face. 

“god i love this show, every single episode.” he tells me looking back at me, his eyes stray from my eyes to my lips to my body. i didnt mind it to be honest, i kinda liked it if anything. 

I directed my sight back to the show. We sat in a comfortable silence but i couldn’t stay focused for long as my eyes wandered over to his sweats, then his hand near them. being fair he actually was pretty fine, i heard rumors before that he slept around a bit a year ago but it was old news quickly. 

as we near our third episode my eyes feel heavy and all my cares slipped away again as i drift off to sleep in his bed. 

————————————————————————

2:49

ugh, i wake up feeling incredibly hot. i rip off my sweater and dip underneath the covers, wow my sheets feel really nice, very fluffy…. 

[the-90s-music-colosseum]

Round 4 Match 15

propaganda below the cut! (massive wall of text warning)

Tracy Chapman:

"I can’t think of anything clever to say because I’m too busy sighing dreamily"

"GUYS ITS FUCKING TRACY CHAPMAN VOTE FOR HER OR ELSE ILL EAT PLAYDOUGH"

"Tracy Chapman made the best song of all time (fast car)"

"ik im the hope sandoval guy but if hope doesn't make it tracy has to she made me realize i was a lesbian i just thought i was bi then i listened to her and now im a lesbian she is powerful she is strength if you looked at her and looked at my art you would see 20 years of inspiration from one single woman"

"she's too good to commit atrocities to me but im the gore guy and you aren't for that. i would let her take out my vocal chords and use them as floss. i would have her saw down my bones to make a vinyl of her music. i would go on all fours and let her slaughter me like a pig. i want to be her cat"

"The most powerful written and performed voice of the 90s. Everyone, of any nationality or belief system, could feel the words Tracy Chapman sang. She gets her dues but deserves even more."

Stephen Malkmus:

"i can't even stand stephen malkmus but there's a very special girl out there who needs this win"

"My perpetually stoned, nonsensical girlfriend...if we don't invent the time machine soon I might die. He's like 6 ft tall so unfortunately I'd be like one of those birds that ride on giraffes and eat bugs out of their fur. And then I'd die in a weed accident during the recording of Wowee Zowee? Before that though I'd spend 25 hrs a day in bed with him. Alright thanks"

"Stephen Malkmus chronically addicted to moaning and gasping in Pavement songs like he’s getting the best dicking down of his life in the back of the tour bus while everyone else is asleep"

"This is the indie-label match, right? Then it has to be Malkmus, he *made* the scene. And he's still releasing excellent music today. He's just the most influential rockstar of the 90s."

"my gay pavement fan uncle gets out of prison tonight and he knows you ratted him out in '06. the only way to make this right is to vote for stephen"

"Pretty please vote for him, my friend loves him and he really wants him to win"

""There were times he refused to speak to his bandmates, pulling a jacket over his head and referring to himself as "the little bitch"." I have also heard him refer to himself as a brat, a queen, a primadonna, a sociopath, and a narcissist. All of these descriptors have made me want to slam him against a wall and turn his neck fun new colors."

"I mean, Pavement is THEE indie band of the 90s. The lowkey snark, Koreaaaa, so much style that it's wasted. And Malkmus is an understated cool rockstar: the hair, the face, Silver Jews! He never ever sold out. He's the 90s."

"the most beautiful man ever he looks like a gorgeous fairytale prince. he has been hot since he emerged on the scene and continues to be so as their reunion tour comes to a close. stephen forever"

"we have to consider the autism swagger. find me a pavement write up that doesn’t spend three paragraphs waxing lyrical on his inability to make eye contact. find me a YouTube comment section that doesn’t have hoards of moms swooning over his flat affect. his refusal to wear anything more formal than a flannel for the first decade of his career? genuinely culturally influential. 30 glorious years of expressionless performances. sunglasses in the dark. so many straight men falling over themselves for him they made a joke about it in the Barbie movie. raw tbh sex appeal. and he’s got a great nose"

"he had a couple of unfortunate haircuts during this period but highkey i would break both of my arms to just be able to make out with him. please vote for SM my life is in danger if you don't"

[boxheadpaint]

hungry but not much to eat and tgen mildly depressing news, ok. obviously this is worsened by being hungry and not medicated yet. decide instead to go back to bed and lie to still to use up energy and sleep through hunger. Somehow this does not work and just end up more tired and more hungry. And still havent taken meds. my thrilling life. dove noises outside tho. wait i havent done a diary post in a bit hang on lemme rev up here.

ok back. Collapsed while cooking because im intwlligent, but did enjoy a good meal with my partner. watched some Star Trek while my body refused to regain energy so as to take a shower, and had to take a shower anyway. Have been much less depressed lately, though have been dealing with constant daytime fatigue for some reason. Im mr fall asleep. going to get groceries later today thank goodness

current goal in pokerogue because of course. Like obviously yes shiny farming but also at this point im trying to make the most disgusting dog possible. Behold

Completely and utterly nasty thing.

im not sure how to get back into digital art sooner rather than later, my computer has become immensely annoying to use. Beyond having to prop it by hand because of lack of back panel, it also heats up a bunch very quickly and the cursor is Still an irritating molecule off center to me- likely because of the angle I have to look at when it’s laying flat from no adequate support.

I don’t want to ditch digital completely because of some minor inconveniences but my patience with the machine has been wearing thin for a long while now. at least it’s not giving me notifications to update to windows 11. Like fuck off and such.

Lately I find myself more and more mad about advertisements and marketing. Beyond the disruptive nature of these things and the wastefulness theyre also straight up stupid and just make things look worse by existing. It doesn’t matter how many different ads for reeses you show me with the bojack guy over them, and in fact the more I see them the more likely I am to just say the governments putting poison shit in it so people will stop buying them. Also fuck everything that charges more money for a gluten free version of a product

come June im going on a ride up north and visiting my sister briefly, which I look forward to. There was some miscommmunication about days so I thot I was going to be able to hang out with her for a full day on her weekend, but it turned out that was unavailable and it made me upset. still, even if it’s just for a few hours after her shift ill be happy to spend any time with her. I miss being just a room away from her at a given moment sometimes and wish I could have appreciated that time more, though I know a part of why I didn’t was the house itself and its effect on me. Swagless really

anyway somehow I managed to be up until 3 am once again. Im marking the date down as today even if I started this post yesterday. Hoping to relax and get good news soon, or at least neutral news. News of a sort

5/18/2024, the dog is also several levels higher now than pictured. Like by a lot

[slytherinshua]

100 KISSES

genre. fluff. sickfic. warnings. description of illness and medicine. written on a plane and not proofread. pairing. j-us x fem!reader. wc. 735. a/n. aaaaaa guys im writing for onf 😭 IM SO EXCITED YDEK LIKE???? my lovely lovely boys 🫶 ik it won't get much attention but im so over the moon about this!! also this was a request from my best best friend @ddeonudepressions 🧡🧡 dia i know it took a rly long time but i didn't forget about sick juice u wanted 🫶 i hope you like it ☝️

“Y/n…”

“What?” You sighed, probably for the thousandth time, glancing up from your phone to pay attention to your sick boyfriend. Headache, sore throat, coughing, sneezing, runny nose, ringing ears, or neck pain, you name it, Seungjun was suffering from it.

You had to admit he did look pretty cute with his bright red nose and puffy face, but if you said anything he would get 10 times whinier than he already was.

He currently couldn’t decide whether he wanted to cuddle or wanted to keep his distance to not get you sick. You tried to tell him that you had a good immune system, but he just wouldn’t buy it. You tried to tell him that you were probably already infected from taking care of him for the past 2 days, but he wouldn’t take that answer either.

“I miss kissing you.” He mumbled along with an over-dramatic sniff.

You smiled a little, “You really won’t take the risk, huh?”

He shook his head vehemently, frowning, “You’ll get sick too.”

“What if I wanted kisses too?”

Seungjun paused, contemplating the question before shaking his head again, “Even if we both want kisses, we shouldn’t.”

“Is your throat still sore?”

“Mhm, it feels so… dry.” He coughed.

“I told you to use the throat spray I bought. It’s foul, but I promise it works.” You urged.

“It’s really nasty, though.” He shuddered.

“You might be able to get kisses if you use it.” You coaxed.

Seungjun bit his lip, head falling back onto the couch. You giggled at his antics. He was dramatic even when he was healthy, but no one could ever beat the melodrama that came with a sick Seungjun. He didn’t say anything for about 10 minutes, and you thought he had fallen asleep.

“Get me the throat spray.” He mumbled just above a whisper.

“Knew it would work.” You giggled.

//

“You feeling any better?” It was hours later, and you were just slipping under the covers after brushing your teeth, joining Seungjun who was hugging a pillow.

“A bit?”

“Still probably not enough for my goodnight kiss, then?” You pouted. You had already gone 2 days without one and a part of you was really hoping to sneak just one peck in before bed.

“I’m sorry, baby.” Seungjun whispered and held out his arms. “All I can offer is hugs right now.”

“You owe me at least 10 kisses once you’re better, got it?” You said seriously, settling so your head rested on his chest and he could wrap his arms around you.

“I’ll give you 20 kisses once I’m better if you want.”

“30.”

“50?”

“100.” You giggled.

Seungjun tried to stop himself from laughing since it usually ended in a coughing fit, but he ultimately failed.

“You sound ugly when you cough.” You joked.

“Can’t really help it.”

“I miss you singing me to sleep.” You sighed, tracing little shapes on his shirt with your finger.

“I miss it too, but my throat is really out of commission.” 

“I know…”

“I thought I was whiny, but you know, you’re pretty whiny too.” Seungjun smiled.

“Maybe if my boyfriend wasn’t sick for so long, I wouldn’t be so whiny.” You countered.

“So it’s my fault, huh?” 

You nodded.

“I like it when you’re whiny, though. It’s cute.”

“Shut up.”

“You think I’m annoying when I’m whiny, though, don’t you?” He didn’t say it in his usual teasing tone where you knew he was joking. He rubbed your arm as he spoke, his breath coming out a soft tone that you rarely got from him.

“Do you want an honest answer?”

“Hm?”

“Usually I would just say ‘of course, you’re the most annoying person I know’, but I feel like I shouldn’t tease you while you’re sick.”

“How thoughtful of you.” Seungjun mumbled, voice coming out softer and softer as he teetered on the edge of drifting off into a slumber.

“I don’t mind when you’re whiny. It kinda reminds me how much you love me, and that you would even want to put in that much effort just for my attention… So, I guess I like it too.” You glanced up only to find Seungjun already asleep, softly breathing while still holding you close to his chest.

“Why’d I even say all of that if you were just going to fall asleep on me?” You muttered. “…Sleep well, baby.”

↳ onf taglist: open!!