teardrops on my guitar || jack hughes

making the bold choice of writing a fic for every song on debut by taylor swift, i’ll do it sporadically and for different people as well!! once i finish debut, we will see if i’m feeling fearless tv ☺️ ambitious, believe me I KNOW. anyways send requests

this is dedicated to @folklorelvr333 —tomg is her fave song on debut and jack is her fave guy (appreciate this bc i had to learn jack hughes LORE for this)

debut masterlist

Jack had moved to Michigan during his last years of high school to further his career in hockey and to try to secure his spot as a draft pick. When he started playing for the U.S. NTDP, he attended Plymouth-Canton Educational Park when he wasn’t on the rink. There, he met you.

Jack hadn’t ever claimed to be good with girls, not really. He liked you, though. He liked you a lot. He remembered being paired up with you in lab during his first week. He thought he’d made his interest incredibly obvious. That was, if his pink cheeks and clammy hands weren’t a telltale sign of his trying to flirt with you. Mistakenly, he’d realized he’d done just about the exact opposite. He’d made himself out to be a best friend to you, a shoulder to lean on.

It wasn’t like the NTPD staff had really given him the choice of having a girlfriend, they’d actually discouraged it more than anything. He was on an extremely strict schedule, right down to the time he should be in bed every night.

“So you’ve pretty much got it all laid out for you then?” You’d asked him at lunch one day, sitting across from each other and picking at your food.

“What’s that’s supposed to mean?” He laughed, confused.

“I just mean—I don’t know, you’re seventeen years old, Jack. You’re always here or at the rink. I get it and everything, like you’re going to go pro and stuff. I just wonder sometimes if you ever do anything for you, you know?”

Jack’s lips formed a thin line, inhaling deeply as he thought about your words. It wasn’t like he didn’t understand where you were coming from, it was just all he’d ever really known. His parents had him on the ice before he was two years old. He’s eat, slept, and breathed hockey his entire life.

“I do all this for me,” he finally said. “I want this.”

“Come on,” you huffed, teasingly. “You’re telling me you never think about going out and partying? Or like, I don’t know, having a girlfriend?”

His face flushed almost instantaneously, trying to avert his gaze to anything but you. Of course he though about having a girlfriend. He thought about it every time you’d call him after practice to talk about homework. He thought about it each morning when he pulled up in front of your house and you climbed into his passenger seat, laying your hands on his forearm to tell him whatever girl drama you’d found out the night before.

“No, I guess I don’t really think about it much.”

“Bullshit,” you chided. “If that’s true, do you think you have erectile dysfunction or something? Like a hormonal imbalance?”

“What the fuck?” He laughed, nearly spitting out his Gatorade. “No, I definitely don’t have—”

“You’re blushing!” You cut him off, smiling ear-to-ear.

Jack cherished your time together in school; he rarely had a free moment outside of classes that he wasn’t playing hockey. He always felt horrible declining your offers to hang out, but he genuinely couldn’t find a free moment.

A part of him feels this is to blame for your relationship never progressing further. He thought you’d maybe felt something more than platonic feelings for him at one point, but who wants some guy who is too cool for any school functions and can’t see you on weekends because of practice or tournaments. Although, he’d never been honest with you about his feelings either.

It was only a matter of time before you moved forward with your life, leaving him to wonder what could’ve been.

Jack wouldn’t lie and say it didn’t sting every time you’d bring a new guy up, what might’ve taken the cake was when you’d brought one to a hockey game of his. It was like one of those movie moments, Jack thought at practice the next day. He’d seen you in the stands, face lighting up, only to notice the guy beside you with his arm around you.

He wanted to hate the kid, too. Only then did he realize how jealous he truly was. He was heartbroken over a girl he’d never even dated. How was that even possible, Jack would wonder as he stared up at the ceiling in bed.

He could’ve told you, could’ve been honest about how he felt about you. Who knows what would’ve happened, but at least you’d have known. It was too late, he saw how happy you were and had to match your expression with fake smiles and words of encouragement laced with frustration and envy.

Jack tried not to hate himself for how he’d let the situation play out, but he truly couldn’t.

You’d fall in love, and he’d watch. And there was nothing he could do about it.

Random Aleheather headcanons(again!)

Heather feeling guilty helps Alejandro recover from the volcano accident (all stars didn’t happen as it shouldn’t)

Alejandro’s family sues the shit out of Chris and the network

Heather after finding an agent is able to get her own talk show into production

Alejandro after a year of physical therapy and applying creams for his burns makes a full recovery (although he does sometimes walk with a cane that has the head of a bull on it)

They both go university/college but Alejandro takes online classes due to his injuries

Heather moves in with Alejandro’s family after she cuts her own family off (they all except Jose who’s jealous, love her)

Jose being petty insults Heather’s looks and she gets revenge on him by putting a whole bottle liquid laxative in his Gatorade bottle (he’s the only one in the house who drinks a certain kind) she also adds hot pink hair dye to his shampoo.)

Alejandro often speaks Spanish to Heather just to make her flustered

Along side a ring Alejandro gives Heather the same bull necklace he wears when he proposes to her

They still call one another Mr. Heather and Mrs. Alejandro

Heather does the grocery shopping, Alejandro loves to cook (she’ll jump in sometimes and help him clean up)

Heather kisses Alejandro’s forehead every morning

House Husband Alejandro (he even wears an apron ♥️)

Alejandro wraps around Heather like a starfish when they sleep.

While Heather is pregnant Alejandro won’t let her lift a finger he even hires a maid to help keep up with their house

They love competing with one another over simple things (working out, racing each other they even play board games and cards)

They go on a double date with Duncan and Courtney

Their favorite thing to spend quality time with one another is watching Stephen King movies (specifically the shining!)

When they go on dates or family events Heather ALWAYS makes sure they color coordinate

Heather buys Alejandro an expensive watch for his birthday (X)

Alejandro gives Heather a necklace(X) bracelet(X)earrings(X) and a dress(X )for her birthday

Hi, Sam! I had a food question for you. My partner has POTS and occasionally needs to eat something salty to feel better; this tends to happen most at night after the shops have closed, so running out for chips isn't an opthere.

Do you have any ideas as to easy snacks I can make in a relatively short amount of time out of my pantry with a decent amount of salt in them? Possibly recipes? Especially crunchy things. I've made buttered toast with salt sprinkled on top for him before, and making some kind of cracker might be doable... Thanks!

Ooh, hm, good question. I actually don't use much salt in my cooking (supertaster -- don't need much).

A number of cheeses are pretty salt-heavy; cheddar and camembert in particular, and camembert goes very well with crackers or on bread, even on toast. After my last surgery I often craved salt once I was back on solid foods and a go-to was a chunk of naan bread or a split pita, spread with pesto, topped with cambozola (a camembert-gorgonzola blend), and baked in the toaster oven. If you toast the bread first and then top it, it should stay pretty crispy.

Pesto is a good thing to have on hand because it's pretty salty (and you can add more) and it freezes well, so you can freeze it in small containers and take it out to thaw as needed, so you always have some in the fridge. If allergies are a concern it's relatively easy to make with substitutions (I make mine with almond or cashew butter instead of pine nuts) although you have to like basil. Goes on bread, toast, most veggies, can be used as a dip, etc.

Crackers sprinkled with salt are a good one; most crackers are just flour, liquid, sometimes a mild leavening agent, and if you have a pasta roller it's easy to make the dough thin enough to work like a regular cracker.

Most nut butters also have added salt and as with pesto you can add more (if he can tolerate nuts). If you have a toaster oven or an air fryer, freezer chips/fries bake pretty well and pretty fast in those, and re-salting them after they've heated actually crisps them up a bit too. Keeping salted nuts around is good. A quick google tells me that POTS patients should limit carbs, which is a lot of what I've mentioned here, so if he tolerates jerky, that's super salty and mostly protein, and there are a variety of places these days that do pretty high-quality jerky that doesn't have a lot of nonsense added.

If all else fails, definitely clear this with your doctor, but a glass of water with a shot of vinegar, a spoonful of salt, and a spoonful of sugar is an old recipe for essentially gatorade; it doesn't taste salty (I think it tastes like lemon water) but it gets salt into you and replenishes electrolytes. I'm not sure if it's recommended for POTS patients, though.

Readers, any suggestions? Remember to comment or reblog, as I don't repost asks sent in response to other asks.

On my second re-watch of the series. In full brainworm mode. Struck me how stupid it is that Wilson's office is next to House's instead of near the department he runs. Wrote this to smooth it over (and make myself sad).

~1000 words, gen, set post-series

-------------------------------------------------------------

“Do you remember… during the remodel?”

Wilson’s voice came low from a few feet away, barely audible over the sound of the highway just outside the window. They’d stopped riding late in the day, exhausted and cranky, eaten what they had left of their stash of granola bars and beef jerky for dinner, and flopped into beds without even washing off the grime from the road.

All signs pointed to falling asleep quickly, waking up in a better mood, leaving the squalor of this roadside motel for the squalor of the next. But neither of them were asleep two hours later. Wilson had started getting generalized chest pains at night, so bad he sometimes didn’t sleep; neither of them bothered to diagnose it, to explicate. It didn’t matter. They were three months into their trip, and they wouldn’t be able to keep the pace much longer.

House wet his lips and swallowed before answering. It was dry in Arizona. Go figure.

“What about the remodel?”

A brief pause, then, “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Do you ask me questions while I’m asleep often?”

“Yeah.”

He looked over at that. Wilson was under the sheet and stiff comforter, shivering slightly. it was that kind of night, then.

“Wanna do drugs?”

It earned a smile and a nod. House sat up, rifled through his backpack, and rattled the bottle when he found it.

“You’re going to have to sit up.”

House watched him struggle a little. Wilson didn’t like being helped. He would take it when it was necessary, but before that point it tended to make him sour. They’d already bickered twenty times about the irony, so House didn’t bother making a sly remark.

He thumbed two pills out for each of them, and they swallowed them almost at the same time, House dry, Wilson with the help of a half-empty gatorade bottle on their shared nightstand. Wilson sat there for a few seconds, propped up on dingy pillows, hands clutched around his waist. His face was almost funny - clearly uncomfortable, but not as much as was called for. He looked like he’d smelled a fart, not like he'd been kept up for hours by the pains of a slow death. House wondered for the thousandth time if all that politeness and bravery and bluster was for his sake or Wilson's own.

House felt the vicodin hit his bloodstream, and his eyes slipped closed. When he opened them again, Wilson was watching him with that look of his. House’s throat clicked as he swallowed.

“Well? What about the remodel?”

“You leaned on Cuddy so hard. Tormented her for weeks.”

It had been an interesting time - demolition, fresh paint on the walls, doctors packed into temporary buildings and loaned out to other hospitals. Cuddy was beside herself for three months straight, and House had done nothing to help the matter.

“She was expecting me to hire three people. I needed the space.”

Wilson shook his head. “I'm not talking about that part. Although your office size was ridiculous. Hennings almost quit over it.”

“Hack.”

Wilson smiled again, then started to push himself back down the bed gingerly. House just watched him, figuring he’d continue the conversation if he wanted to.

Wilson tucked the covers up to his chin, sighed happily, and said, “I know it’s probably lost on you at this point, but those things make me feel good all over.”

“It’s nice, right?”

“No, I mean all over. Even the sheets feel good. Like my skin is fuzzy.”

He was clearly a little loopy, but House knew what he meant. It would took quite a dose to get House to that point.

“It’s so nice to share hobbies.”

Wilson laughed, really laughed.

“Can you come over here?” Wilson motioned to the other side of his bed with his head only. “I think I need to lay on this side for a bit.”

He started turning slowly without waiting for a response. It was the kind of anodyne request that House had never stomached from anyone but Wilson, and sometimes not even him. Lately, though he always did. It didn’t sting anymore.

He stood, stretched, and limped around the foot of the bed, rolled onto it, over the covers. He settled on his back, one hand behind his head, watching Wilson’s forehead relax as the vicodin did its work.

Wilson shifted and shivered again, but somehow House didn’t think it was the pain anymore.

“I toured the oncology wing.” He spoke without opening his eyes. “Walked around my future office before the walls were put in. I remember, they put me between Greenbeck and Tom. I was mad about not getting the corner. But I didn’t say anything, of course. God forbid I actually ask for anything I want.” Wilson opened his eyes. “And then,” his voice broke, “I got to work on the first day back. Cuddy cut the ribbon, the whole shebang. I went up to my office... But it wasn’t there.”

House just watched him. It had been part of his deal with Cuddy. The primary stipulation, actually. He told her that Wilson was in on it, that he'd agreed to it, but that had been a lie. He had been too worried Wilson would veto it.

“I’ll never forget finding it,” he paused to smile, small and sad, “seeing my name on the door."

House breathed to say something, maybe sarcastic, make him laugh. Please, laugh again. He came up empty.

Wilson wet his lips and said, “I remember standing there, thinking - thinking that this might be the clearest I would ever hear it from you... Hear that you want me around. That you need me. Not for a favor. Not for a prescription, for distraction, for a laugh. Just for me, to be near to you.”

House breathed and watched his eyes through the dark - soft at the edges, earnest, alive.

“This is what you say to me when I’m asleep? Kinda fruity.”

And it did get him a laugh. A good one. House smiled back.

Wilson managed to free his arm from the covers. He laid a light hand on House’s shoulder, thumb rubbing back and forth. He got this way when he was high - tactile and sentimental. Or maybe it was the dying. Or maybe he'd always been this way, and always held it back.

House turned onto his side, facing him, ran a reciprocating hand up and down Wilson’s arm in a slow circuit. Wilson closed his eyes to the feeling.

“It’s actions,” Wilson breathed. “It’s actions that matter.”

They fell asleep like that, and woke early, and never talked about work again.

-------------------------------------------------------------

My other Hilson fic, also written in a fugue state

I remember you posting about all the kids hobbies and what they like to do for fun… but I can’t find it now. 🫣 I was curious though if any of them did any competitive sports because I think Andy would be an intense dance dad or whatever sport. You know what I mean? I want him to know all the moves and marking them on the side, where the bedazzled team jerseys, be the runner to get them everything they need and overall be a biggest and loudest cheerleader for his family. 🥹

But then again you know him better than me. 🤷‍♀️

Hi there! You can read more about the GP kids' hobbies in this post HERE.

As for whether or not any of the kids play competitive sports, the answer is yes. BiBi is heavily involved in soccer - she is very competitive. In the beginning, Andy knew nothing about the sport. But like any good dad, he quickly became an expert.

This man read books, he learned the plays, he even acted as assistant coach until she hit a certain age. Andrew Barber is the type of soccer Dad who stays ready with a clipboard and dry erase markers. He does the team chants with the ladies, wears the face paint, brings the snacks, let's the girls dump gatorade on them after a win...

And yes, he will argue with the ref. It doesn't matter if he's coaching or watching from the sidelines as a spectator. When his girls are on the field, I'm talking about the entire team, the officials had better treat them right. Or else.

He may have been banished to the parking lot once. But that was more Reader's doing, not the refs.

Andy also golfs with Katrina, although that's more of a father daughter deal. And while they have an amazing time it doesn't go farther than that because at some point she gets involved with the school newspaper/yearbook committee.

A.J. plays basketball and is very involved with his team as well. And you had best believe that is father is at every game cheering him on. Junior is a big kid - taller than Andy. That young man is also very sweet, in addition to being talented. And since he's really good, sometimes he gets flack from coaches, and even parents, on other teams. Junior goes to a predominately white school and the teams they play often reflect the same makeup.

That young man has been subjected to a couple of rough comments. We're talking seriously out-of-pocket remarks. Those times Reader did not send Andy out to the parking lot. She stood behind him and let him handle that shit with the Male Coaches/Fathers while she sized up the Mamas.

I'll tell you about it if you want. But the moral of the story is DO NOT FUCK WITH THE BARBERS.

As for Aurora, who also goes by Rory or RoRo, she was briefly into ballet as a little girl. But she suffered from serious stage fright. Not only that, but she tended to get upset whenever her Daddy tried to drop her off at practice. So guess who ended up staying behind and learning all the moves? Andrew Barber.

Remind me to tell you about the time he ended up participating in a recital because Rory refused to dance on stage without him. I can tell you right now, that it was hilarious. But rest assured that Reader got it on video and was incredibly proud of them both.

Hope that answers your question(s)! Please let me know if there are more!

Popsicle

Just a fluffy little Al/Theo drabble. 1,385 words. TW: Emeto, mention of past character suicide. Cool article about historic CF treatment here.

One of the first pictures Al has of himself is in the mist tent. He doesn't remember much about it - they were already going out of style when he was born and quickly fizzled out as an effective treatment for cystic fibrosis in the early 80s. Good thing, given they were better breeding grounds for pseudemonas than anything, but the snapshot remains among Al's many baby pictures. There's so many, his mom explains to him, because they didn't think he'd live past childhood. Everything felt unknown back then. Now, Al thinks, so much is different. Kids are diagnosed within 24 hours of being born thanks to mandatory newborn screenings. There are medications and treatments that extend life expectancy for some CFers almost to normal. Very little existed on that snow-stormy night in 1979 when Al was born.

When Theo sees the picture of Al in that plastic nighttime prison, the gigantic compressor next to his crib that easily weighed a hundred times more than he did, his jaw drops. "This can't be real," he says in disbelief. "This looks more like the 1930s. 1960s, tops."

"What, you think my parents put me in there for fun?" Al smirks. "But you're right. It looks crazy. But rural Ohio, ya know, it was a bit behind on the times."

Al's mom also regales him with tales of disassembling and sanitizing the entire contraption plus changing the bed every morning, the sheets often soaking wet by then. He doesn't envy her at all. It's just another reason Al respects his mother endlessly, even though he knows he doesn't call her enough. He should call her more often.

They stopped talking every day after Al moved to New York. It was gradual but intentional, and often because Al hadn't wanted to admit to her when she asked how his day was that he'd gotten into another fight with Ollie. She loved Ollie, but she had never thought they were ready to marry or move in together. Ollie had only tried to kill himself last year, she told him. What were they going to do in a big city, in another state, without a clear plan for their future? Couldn't they just move to Columbus and try there?

It was a big fight. Al ended up going, and after that he felt too ashamed to tell his mother that maybe she had been right. After Ollie died Al was scared to talk to her about it. He was already so broken, he didn't need to be told what he did wrong. But when they finally did talk about it, she just hugged him and told him she was there for whatever he needed. He should have trusted her more, he thought as he sobbed in her arms just like he was a boy again.

She's supposed to be visiting sometime soon. It was going to be this week, but both Al and Theo woke up yesterday with a stomach virus from hell and had spent most of the last twenty-four hours vomiting in tandem. Theo has it worse than Al though and Al's doing his best to keep Theo as hydrated as possible. It seemed like everything he's offered Theo comes right back up, though.

"I'm fucking dying," Theo groans loudly after yet another round of violent gagging. He's lying on the bathroom rug, naked other than a pair of boxers and shivering despite most of the blankets in the apartment being piled on top of him.

Al's in his own nest in the bathtub with the rest of the remaining blankets that they possess. He stopped vomiting a few hours ago and now just feels vaguely nauseous and exhausted, but doesn’t want to leave Theo’s side. “You’re going to be fine,” Al tells him, although Theo does look on death’s doorstep if he’s being honest. “Drink some more Gatorade.”

“Ugh. Don’t even say that,” Theo says. He’s been alternatively sipping on and puking up Gatorade ever since this started and he doesn't think he ever wants to taste that shit again.

"Do you want to go to the hospital?" Al asks him.

"Shut the fuck up," Theo mutters, which causes Al to laugh.

"You're fine enough to complain," Al says. He detangles himself from his blanket cacoon and climbs out of the tub to rub Theo's back. Theo quivers in response to being touched, but after the initial discomfort it feels good. Al tries to remember what else he can do to help someone with the stomach flu, but he can only ever remember having it once before when he was quite young. What had his mom done to make him feel better? "How about a popsicle? It'll get that taste out of your mouth."

Theo seems to consider it very seriously before he says, "In ten minutes."

"Got it," Al says with a tired smile. His partner is exceedingly logical as always and Al knows he was weighing the pros and cons of a popsicle now versus in ten minutes versus never. Al waits ten minutes before dragging himself to the kitchen to grab a popsicle and calls to update his mom.

"Hi baby," she says when she picks up. "How're you two holding up?"

Al tells her that he's fine now, but Theo's still going through it. "Any ideas? I'm about to give him a popsicle."

"That's a good idea," she tells him. "Hmm... Got any of those ginger candies?" Al considers it. He thinks maybe he has some burried among all the crap in his med cabinet. "What about pepto bismol?"

"Ew, the pink stuff?" Al cringes. It never worked well for him personally, but it seems the zofran he's been giving Theo hasn't really worked so maybe it's worth a try.

"I'll order you some," she says. Ever since she discovered the magic of grocery delivery she seems to find some excuse to send him something every week. He doesn't bother arguing this time, since it's for Theo's benefit and he knows it makes her feel better to help. "What's Theo's favorite flavor of popsicles?"

"Green," Al says.

"Lime, dear," his mother corrects him. Al doesn't say anything. It's not worth fighting about.

"Thanks mom," Al says. "Love you. I'll call later."

"Let me know when you're feeling better," she responds, "And I'll re-book my flight."

Al knows she'll rebook it within an hour, so he'd better wait until they're feeling entirely better. Theo is fond of Al's mother, but he doesn't need her nagging and taking over the apartment while he's still not feeling well. Al tells her he loves her again and hangs up. Then he goes back to Theo's side where he finds his boyfriend yet again retching fruitlessly into the toilet. His heart clenches with pity.

"Poor Theo," he hums sympathetically, "You're okay. Deep breaths."

"Nothing's coming up," Theo groans.

"I know," Al says. "Let's get you to bed, okay? I want you to try eating this."

"What if I throw up in bed?" Theo mumbles feverishly.

"Then you throw up in bed. It'll be okay," Al soothes him, wrapping one of Theo's arms around his shoulders and hoisting him to his feet. They make it to the bedroom where Al deposits Theo onto the bed and presses the popsicle to his lips. "Suck on this. Just a little," Al coaxes him. "I know you don't want to but I can't let you get dehydrated."

"Fine," Theo obeys reluctantly. He gags a little but manages a decent amount before he pushes it into Al's hands. "I'm done," he pleads.

"Good job," Al says gently, running a hand through Theo's hair. He kisses Theo's forehead and puts the remaining popsicle into an empty water cup on his bedside table, so when it melts it won't make a mess. Then he brings a wet washcloth from the bathroom and washes Theo's sweaty, sticky face for him.

"Do you think you can sleep?" Al asks Theo. "Just for a bit."

"Maybe," Theo says. His pale, greyish complexion makes him look older than he is. "Will you stay with me?"

"Of course," Al says. He wants to nap too, anyways. "I'll be right here, don't worry."

"Love you," Theo mumbles.

Al smiles a little and kisses Theo again. "I love you too. Now rest."

Not sure if we actually have to write something for the "Free Space" in @hurtcomfort-bingo but if so, I'll count this one for my Free Space!

The Losers favorite drinks

Bill: Bill's a coffee guy through and through. He often works well unto the night and so he needs something to keep him awake and coffee does just that.

Stan: Stan drinks tea. He doesent necessarily like the taste of coffee so he drinks tea instead. He has a large collection of different types of tea as well, most of which are herbal teas.

Eddie: Eddie drinks water most of the time although he sometimes has a gatorade or two, but water is his go to drink. He is very health conscious so he doesent like to have anything with too much sugar.

Richie: Monster Energy..... he cant stand the taste of coffee, he says its always too bitter no matter how much sugar he puts in it. The other losers tell him its bad for him but he drinks it anyway. They came to an agreement that richie could have 1 a day as long as he also drank 80 oz of water a day as well.

Mike: water, plain and simple. You see mike actuallt takes care of himself unlike some of the others cough*richie*cough. He sometimes puts those flavor packets it it but most of the time its just plain water

Ben: milk... "who drinks just plain milk, you dont even put anything in it like chocolate stuff or strawberry stuff" "I dont have chocolat stuff or strawberry stuff" "then go BUY some stop drinking plain milk - richie and ben

Bev: juice(apple,orange ect.). Bev doesent like to drink soda because of all the added sugar so she drinks juice for the natural sugar(also because juice is the best drink ever)

¥ = How the character handles money or spends it / ↔ = The character’s ability to read directions / (*^◇^)_旦 = What the character likes to eat and drink

list of headcanons // accepting . . .

¥ = How the character handles money or spends it

The thing about Jin is that he's actually pretty good at handling and budgeting. If he goes grocery shopping, he only buys foods he absolutely needs, along with a snack or two. Jin does have a couple of weaknesses though; video games and anime figurines. If he sees a video game he really wants, or a figurine of a favorite character (or a character from a favorite series) - he has a harder time resisting it! Oh... and if he spots a really cool hoodie lol!

Unlike Jin, Devil has very few interests. Although he's starting to get into games, he still sees them as an activity to do with someone else (e.g. Jin) rather than by himself. Devil also doesn't do the shopping ever. The only time he really had money to spend on his own was when he owned the Zaibatsu. And like any rich asshole, he would often spend it on expensive vehicles or clothing lol. Especially bikes. He owned like 4 versions of the same bike - this is actually canon. Nowadays, Devil doesn't buy much of anything. Especially because he knows they don't really have the wealth for all those expensive suits he likes. Though ... if he sees a particular article of clothing he likes, he may try to beg Jin for it!

↔ = The character’s ability to read directions

I don't know why but Jin strikes me as the guy who insists he doesn't need directions... but then ends up getting lost anyway lol. I feel like Jin's ability to read them are decent when he DOES bother to read them? I just feel it might depend on the context of the situation.

Like Jin, Devil also doesn't read directions. He just flies wherever the fuck and takes him to whatever feels or smells right. I mean, when he was attending the fifth tournament, that's just what he did! He just went wherever was right. Needed to find Hwoarang to beat him to near death? Just find him with the ol' sniffer! Need to find where Jinpachi was? Easy to find with all that dark energy swirling within. The only time Devil "used" directions was in the Zaibatsu. And even then, HE technically DIDN'T. It was his employees who read them. So, I feel because of that - Devil sucks at it. But like, also just doesn't care.

(*^◇^)_旦 = What the character likes to eat and drink

Canonically, Jin's favorite food is Takoyaki! But really, Jin likes to eat all kinds of meats and veggies. He occasionally likes fruit, but in the end... he is a freak that prefers vegetables LOL! Jin tries his best to eat "healthy," - to avoid processed foods, junk foods, or sweets. Especially sweets high in sugars. As for drinks, Jin's usually fine with water. Sometimes when he's sparring, he likes to have a sports drink with him. Oftentimes something like Gatorade. People may think he drinks tea a lot because of his Japanese heritage, but he doesn't actually consume it as much as people would suspect!

Technically, Devil doesn't need to eat. But he does solely because it's an enjoyable sensation. Devil usually just likes an assortment of meats. Before he only liked eating humans. But... post purification, he restrains from doing that. Now he eats other animals (pork, beef, poultry, etc) to make up for that loss. However, he is willing to branch out for more tastes. As for drinking? Plain water is fine. But uh... Devil also doesn't really need to drink, either. The only reason he'd bother with drinking is to properly wash down whatever he was eating.

Tap pictures to enlarge

☝️ instance, if you had an ear infection, imagine how your ear would feel at 80,000 feet! To ensure that we did not infect our fathers, Habubrats, the children of the crew members, were frequently given penicillin shots. I had so many shots I became allergic.

Sometimes, long flights in the SR 71 were required. On Apr. 26, 1971, pilot Lt. Col. Thomas Estes and RSO Lt. Col. Dewain Vick (he and his family were one of my neighbors at Beale AFB) flew SR-71 #968 15,000 miles in 10 hours 30 minutes non-stop on a grueling marathon mission to test the endurance of the J58 engines and the Blackbird airframe, but mostly to see how many times they could refuel before the liquid nitrogen gave out was the first long flight. Several long missions followed as Colonel Jim Shelton explains in an email he sent me about tube food it wasn’t that easy to eat at 80,000 feet.

Once we completed our A/R, we headed for the Mediterranean. I got a little hungry (I had two tubes of apricot paste), so I opened one. I forgot my science about pressure. The tube looks like a tube of toothpaste with a seal on the end. We are given a plastic tube (which fits into the feed port in our helmet) that screws onto the tube, and as you make the final turn connecting the tube, it breaks the seal, and the apricot begins to flow. As I said, I forgot my science about pressures and altitudes”. The tubes are manufactured at Sea Level, but when we are flying at altitude, our cabin altitude is 26,000 feet, a considerable difference in pressure. Well, when I broke the seal on the tube food, I had an apricot spraying out like crazy, so I stuck the plastic tube into a pocket in my pressure suit to catch it. I only lost about 1/4th of the tube’s continence.

Some of the crew members learned to press their tube food up against the window for just two seconds to warm it up. The food was made by Gerber, the same company that made the famous baby food. we took up a drink of choice. It came in a squeeze bottle like you see with marathon runners and cyclist, and the tube would fit in the right-hand side of the helmet. There was a little Iris. You push the tube through there and you could squeeze out, the water, Gatorade, ice tea, whatever your drink of choice was, this is how you stay hydrated.

U2 pilot on Twitter, NASAWB57PILOT, Explains on his personal page that they didn’t print the expiration dates on the tubes a “puffy” tube you certainly wouldn’t want to eat, especially on a long-duration mission in a full-pressure suit. If you get his meaning, although it is indelicate to talk about, I do know a story about an SR 71 pilot that had a full-blown attack of indigestion while flying a very important mission. Although he was extremely uncomfortable, he did not and could not abort the mission. He suffered silently until his pressure suit was taken off after the flight. Then he promised and delivered cases of beer to the people tasked to clean his suit.

Written by Linda Sheffield

💘 - What do they find attractive about their partner(s)?

👗 - How comfortable would they be wearing a skirt or dress?

💝 - What gestures do they really appreciate? How do you get on their good side?

🧸 - Do they have any stuffed animals? If so, are they decorative or do they sleep with them?

[Bad sans gang - Nightmare Error Horror Killer and Dust.]

For this ask game!

~~~

Nightmare:

💘 He likes someone with the ability to hold a conversation. Although he doesn't mind quieter partners, he truly adores people who can just. Casually talk. It's soothing to him, he likes it.

👗Oh he would love to, he does it all the time. Gender and gender norms are basically a foreign concept to him. He knows a little, from Ivy and Cross, but really he just. Never learned that stuff and assumed it was a fairy tale thing. Also dresses are just elegant and pretty, and he likes going swish as he walks around.

💝 He appreciates gifts, and just. Heartfelt statements of any sort. He likes honesty and he likes shiny things. He's like a bird, but a gay octopus.

🧸 No. They get goopy, and he doesn't like the texture of them.

~~~

Error:

💘 It likes people with interesting looks and fashion taste. He doesn't mind if it's not particularly pretty, he just wants something that's eye-catching and fun, and not 'perfect'. It doesn't like the typical definition of 'perfect'.

👗Not very, it much prefers masculine clothing. He'd still wear a skirt if he wanted to, but if it did the skirt would have to be pretty long, and a dress cannot have a deep v-neck or exposed back.

💝Respecting his personal space and/or boundaries. People have done some weird shit under the guise of "fixing" him/his phobia before, and it has gained a great appreciation for those who don't.

🧸He loves plushies, puppets, and anything along those lines. His favourite is a hand-made plushie of Classic, but he also has ones of the gang and Blue that he likes a lot. He sleeps with them sometimes, but never the ones of people. He has this one in the shape of a chocolate bar that he sleeps with most nights.

~~~

Horror:

💘 Couldn't think of anything specific, he just finds everything attractive. He's a very loving guy.

👗 He'd be okay with it. He likes warmer/cozy clothes, but doesn't feel any discomfort in a dress. He'd likely not wear one unless requested to/given a dress to wear.

💝Food. Making food, giving him food to make, eating his food, staying out of his kitchen unless invited, etc.

🧸He doesn't have many, only one of two that were gifts from gang members, but he doesn't sleep with them, they just chill on his bedside table.

~~~

Killer:

💘 Looks in general. He leans a bit more towards liking women/fem-aligned people, but he pretty much just likes pretty people

👗They would wear a dress if it made him look hot. Or just if somebody asked him to.

💝 They like gifts! Especially if they're sharp things or gatorade!

🧸 They're ambivalent about plushies, he much prefers an un-crowded bed but if he's given a plush they'll probably sleep with it nonetheless.

~~~

Dust:

💘 He finds intelligence attractive, but doesn't really have opinions on what's physically attractive.

👗 Eh. He wouldn't complain, wouldn't really enjoy it either but he's got nothing much to lose.

💝 He likes somebody who's just relaxed and leaves him alone if he asks. That's how you get close to him, by staying far away. Don't worry, he sees the irony too.

🧸 He's meh on them. They're soft, they're cute. He doesn't plan on collecting them or anything, but they're fun to sleep with.

~~~

(Bonus) Cross:

💘 Kindness. Kindness and pretty eyes. Or just interesting eyes. He doesn't care.

👗He would not wear a dress if his life was on the line. He hates looking feminine, he hates being associated with femininity, he hates dresses and skirts with a passion. It's mostly a dysphoria thing, but it's also just hating loose and light clothing like dresses. He'll take a well-tailored suit any day.

💝 Being nice to him. The boy. He needs hugs. And compliments. Or both. Maybe therapy too. Just be nice to the him.

🧸Yes! He has all sorts of plushies! He really likes them, but he prefers leaving them on display over sleeping with them. Too soft/crowded of a bed annoys him, and then he can't sleep.

Hello, and happy Blorbo blusday!! I'm well *checks clock* 1h late gasp! As an excuse I can only say that today I have been packing and I forgot it was Thursday. (As usual I am @writeblr-of-my-own) ANYWAYS. For today's question, I'd like to know about food preference and cooking skills of your blorbo(es)! What can they cook, what they like to eat, whether they are good in the kitchen, or better away from it and close to a fire extinguisher!

Hello! It seems I am late as well! About four hours till blorbo blursday ends for me.

Anyways, food!

First up, Twuecud: (this is gonna be long)

Gage is an absolutely horrible cook. He can barely cook oatmeal without burning it somehow. This incorrect quote fits him:

Nicole: Ew. What kind of tea is this? Gage: I boiled gatorade.

I think hes a sandwich guy as for food preference.

Tylee loves anything if you put sprinkles on it, 'cause it "looks prettier." When they went camping she only brought jellybeans and goldfish for food. She is not trusted in the kitchen. She will get distracted while cooking and set off the fire alarm.

Alison loves chips. A true connoisseur, she will tell you anything you need to know about them. Although when it comes to cooking it starts well, but ends up burnt every time. (Probably because of her curse, did I ever mention that?)

Nicole is loyal to Popsi, the sponsored drink in her favorite show. She refuses to follow a recipe when baking. It ends up with a lot of flour on the floor, and lumpy cakes. She can decorate them well though, with swirly bows and perfect cursive. She bakes cakes just to decorate them, throwing them out afterwards. Unless she forgets and an unlucky person comes along to take a bite, ending up with a mouthful of salt and under cooked batter.

Jee likes to help Nicole decorate sometimes, as he's majoring in graphic design, (is that a real major?) He is very lazy when it comes to food, ordering pizza and eating ramen when he can. He put's peanut butter on foods that shouldn't ever have peanut butter, and his friends often catch him doing it and try to get him to stop.

Vishal is not aware of what cooking is. He was fed specially made food from professional cooks,('cause rich), and he probably hasn't ever set foot in a kitchen. Once he discovers them though, I bet he'll love burritos.

Mikal is the only competent chef. He is the only one with enough patience to watch a boiling pot. But of course he tries to make machines to do things for him. He likes cooking a lot more when it's for friends and not just for himself. He likes to impress them. As for eating food, he loves all things bread. And he's Jewish so he doesn't eat pork.

-

Now 1950 Again:

Daniel can cook surprisingly well if he actually tries, not so good at making a plate look good though. He loves brownies, especially the ones his mom makes.

Dr.Marv cannot cook to save his life. He eats whatever's lying around, whether that be a stale taco shell, or leftover takeout. Food was something his wife always made, and just thinking about a homemade meal makes him sad. (woah didn't realize how much trauma dr marv must have holy crap)

-

And finally, How Hope Made Her a Hero:

Norah does not have many food options as of now, just what she can manage to buy from what little money she can earn because her father certainty isn't helping. Which mostly consists of bread and jam that Miss. Marmel gives her for free. She could probably cook well considering a little fact that comes in later ;) I think she'd love fish a lot.

Rufus is good at the hunting and killing part, but cooking not so well. He possesses the determination and patience to cook, but is clueless for the steps to take. Norah will leave him to watch any meat cooking while she goes and does something else, and Rufus is eager to help.

Alphair uses magic of course to cook all his meals. If he doesn't understand a meal though, like a really complicated recipe, the magic will get confused and make a disaster. If you told him to make a grilled cheese sandwich without magic I think he would cry.

Whoo that's about all! Thank you for the ask I loved talking about this!

i guess we're at the point now where every morning my mom and i are going to have to explain to him what's happening, because yesterday and today he says he's "trying to figure out what's going on, what are we doing here?" and it's not his usual, "i'm just messing with you" kind of humor, i think he honestly doesn't know

it makes sense, though, because my mom and i were talking about it last night and we're pretty sure this has been happening for a while now, i think he was just in denial and didn't want to accept it that he was forcing himself to keep going but his body already knew it was time

my mom said she noticed last night that he's got some mottling on his feet which is a bad sign and when i looked it up just to make sure i was spelling it right i read a little more and basically yeah, it's a sign there's not enough circulation happening and it starts with the feet and moves up but it's essentially the body's way of letting you know it's shutting down and flipping off the switches

they say it usually happens in the last week although sometimes it could be longer or sometimes it can be a matter of days

his appetite has also slowed down a lot, although he did eat some sweet potato fries throughout the day and he asked for some frito chips in his mashed potatoes which he really seemed to like, but he's only ever able to take a few bites of something and then he's done

we're keeping him hydrated, though

i haven't been able to leave to go to the store to actually get him what i was just going to go ahead and give him as a ~birthday present, but it's just some super comfy shirts with no tags because he hates that and some really nice lounge pants as well as an insulated cup with a lid and a straw and it's designed so it's supposed to be spill proof

that's his biggest thing right now is wanting something cold to drink and we're constantly rotating powerades and gatorades from the fridge but it'd be easier if it could just be in a cup that'll keep it cool for hours

i hope it gets here in time but we'll see

i'm also supposed to go to the store sometime today to do a grocery run but i don't know if it's going to happen, it'll just depend on how things go

i just got up a little while ago and went to check on everything but they had another rough night and my mom needed just a little more sleep

she's been sleeping on the couch to keep an eye on him so sometimes today once he gets settled and hopefully can take a good nap himself i'll sit by his side and let her get some more rest

of course since i started typing this she's gotten up and i went to let the dog out and now we've got breakfast on the way so we'll just see how today goes and keep taking it moment by moment i guess

I have a very bad cold right now so please, give me some of your best medicine. What would they do when the other gets sick? Both in the New York!AU and the modern times! Nursing a loved one back to health makes me sooo weak ;u; And happy holidays, if you celebrate! Hope you have a good time <3

I'm sorry you're not feeling well, friend — being sick really is the worst. I'm going to wish you a very speedy recovery!

In every scenario, Olek is a terrible patient. He does not like being fussed over and mostly he just tries to push past being sick, sometimes with disastrous results. In 1899, their money is tight (plus a lot of the doctors operating in their neighborhood are mostly just quacks), but Ling Yi does trek out to Mulberry Street to find a Chinese herbalist who can sell her some medicine that would be a little more effective (on the way back, she also buys oxtail soup, which is what her mother would give her when she was sick). In the modern era, she's the one heading out to the drugstore for some over-the-counter meds, along with bottles of Gatorade for the electrolytes. Because Olek gets grumpy when's sick, she mostly just leaves him alone to rest, although she does check in on him every so often to see if he's feeling any better.

Ling Yi doesn't necessarily want to be fussed over, but she does appreciate being taken care of when she's sick. In 1899, when she got sick, Olek didn't go to work that day so that he could stay home with her (and almost got fired). While she definitely didn't want him to lose his job, a part of her loved the fact that he was willing to risk it just for her. In the modern era, Ling Yi spends her sick days crashed out on the couch, wrapped in blankets and watching bad reality TV. She likes having Olek come over and hang out with her in the living room, partially as a distraction; sometimes, when she wakes up after dozing off, she'll find that he's tidied up all around her and is digging around in her kitchen for the ingredients to make the two of them dinner.

In A Pickle

The battle to maintain customer interest in products is an endless one. The intuition of marketers is that we consumers will grow bored with everyday items, and that it behooves them to be in a perpetual state of innovation. Of course, how much innovating that actually goes on is debatable.

The result is usually an endless stream of line extensions. No good brand should go unextended, appears to be the ethos. Just try to count how many Coca-Cola, Mountain Dew, and Pepsi variants line supermarket shelves these days. Then peruse the snack aisle. I could go on.

The latest brand extension to hit my screen is Heinz with their forthcoming Pickle Ketchup. It will arrive in early 2024. As Heinz pointed out in their press kit, the pickle flavor is riding a crest of popularity these days. In fact, they may be a little late to the game, because Trader Joe’s beat them months ago with their own private label Dill Pickle Mustard (which is amazing, I might add). There are also a few pickle-flavored beers available, like the one that Martin House Brewing in Fort Worth did in collaboration with Best Maid Pickles.

And as many Texans already know, pickle juice has long been a thing here. It is actually a great rehydration beverage, but only if you are expecting it. I recall about 20 years when I was cycling in the Hotter ’N Hell 100 in Wichita Falls, and pausing at one of the rest stops. I grabbed a cup and headed to the 10-gallon spigot cooler, poured myself a cupful, and thinking it was Gatorade, slammed it in one gulp.

Oh man, when you’re expecting sweet and you get sour, it’s a mighty unpleasant experience. But I digress.

Regarding Heinz, we have already talked about them this semester with their limited edition Seemingly Ranch Ketchup. They have a long history of novelty products, ranging from green and purple versions earlier this century, to jalapeño-flavored ketchup.

Heinz is the first to admit these probably won’t result in any big revenue gains. It’s not like consumers awaken one day and say to their spouse, “You know, Honey, I think we should make Heinz our brand of ketchup, and commit to buying more than we ever did before.”

As my source material indicates, these wacky flavors are designed to spur brand recognition and conversation. Where that “conversation” happens these days is not over the backyard fence or at the office water cooler. No, they are most likely to happen on social media.

And when it comes to Heinz, it looks like they forgot the “conversation” part of this new product announcement. While they wasted no time sending out press releases touting the new pickly concoction, they overlooked their socials.

A cursory review of their Facebook and Instagram feeds show they are asleep at the pickle. Radio silence, in fact.OK, I know that the new product won’t be available for at least two months, but a company really ought to coordinate their marketing activities. If you’re going to send out press releases (which practically every major media outlet seized upon), you need to have your socials working for you as well. And, of course, be ready to do it all again when the product actually hits shelves.

There are always risks with flavor variants like this. Sometimes they are utter and abject failures, to the point that they earn a place in the Museum of Failure, which Heinz did with its purple ketchup. It’s a hall of shame, where the ignominious among us lie in repose.

And yet the onslaught of line extensions continues. It’s not a case of “Where it stops, nobody knows,” because it will likely never stop. Coca-Cola will continue with more line extensions, its latest AI-inspired flavor portending many more to come.

I have to tip my hat to Heinz for at least trying to maintain relevance. Its campaign this last summer to manufacturer 50 different condiment packages—one for each state—was an interesting promotion, although I doubt any serious collectors saved them. I also have to wonder if the new Pickle Ketchup might cannibalize some of Heinz’ relish sales, because they have kind of combined the two here.

My low ketchup consumption notwithstanding, I’d be down with at least giving this one a try. Besides, the Dill Pickle Mustard is high on my list. I’m willing to pucker up a bit more.

Dr “I Relish That” Gerlich

Audio Blog

I apologize for my trains derailing. I don't remember where I was at in telling my Lyme journey. To be honest, I don't think I even really started telling it. At least not when it all came about, so that is where I will begin. If I repeat things that I have already posted about, just remember that my brain is #lymechallenged.

The first time I came across the above meme, it hit home with me for a couple of reasons: I cannot tell you how many times doctors have referred me to psychiatrists. I am NOT crazy. There IS something going on inside my body that is not right, not the way it is supposed to be. And it is NOT a psychiatric "thing". Although it soon will be because THEY are driving me insane. I am not going to say the phrase "it is all in your head" because technically, scientifically, it is in my head (and the heads of many others with Lyme). Lyme spirochetes can bore into brains. And I am going to leave that there for now. The other thing about this meme is that for some reason, for most people with PTLD, we cannot stand it when people add an s. The word is L-Y-M-E. I have even heard physicians say "Lyme's Disease." What that tells me about the doctors that pronounce it that way is that they don't know jack about it. Most of them don't know jack about it even if they do pronounce it correctly. My train is derailing again…

Okay, I am going to try to do this without derailing. By June of 2012, I was divorced, working night shift as a CNA in a nursing home, and taking online prerequisite classes for nursing school. My son had graduated high school the year before and was in college and living in his own apartment. My daughter was a junior in high school and split her time between her dad and me. In other words, she stayed with whichever one she wanted to stay with on any given night. My ex-husband and I were still on speaking terms and were thinking about trying to work things out between us. I had a very busy life.

On June 27, 2012, I went to work at 10 p.m. I felt absolutely fine. At 4:30 a.m. on June 28, I sat down at the nurses station and told my charge nurse that I felt like I was getting the flu. I finished my shift at 6 a.m. By that time I was certain I was getting the flu. I was achy all over, had a slight fever, a headache, and felt a tiredness like I had never felt before. Normally when I would get off work, I would get home and make a cup of coffee, sit down at my computer and do some homework for a couple of hours and then go to bed. On this particular day I literally fell into bed. I didn't even have the energy to change out of my scrubs. I slept for several hours and when I woke up the only way I could make it to the bathroom was by hugging the wall. I stripped off my scrubs and made it back to my bed by the grace of God where I promptly fell back to sleep. A little after 10 that night my phone woke me up. It was my charge nurse wondering where I was. I told her I apparently had the worst case of flu that I had ever had and would not be coming in to work. I turned my phone off and fell back to sleep. I slept until my ex-husband came in and woke me up sometime around noon. He had been trying to call me and since I had my phone turned off he was getting worried about me. He helped me get to the bathroom, went to the store and got some Gatorade because I had not eat or drank anything. Our daughter was staying with him that week so he made sure I had everything I needed beside my bed and went home. Later that night I woke up and just didn't feel right. This had to be something other than the flu. I seriously thought I was dying. I have had Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD) most of my adult life. And I went into full blown panic mode. I called my ex-husband and told him I wanted to go to the ER at Mountain Home. It was an hour away. About 20 to 25 minutes away and on the way to Mountain Home, I felt even worse. How that was possible was beyond me because I had NEVER been so sick! There is a small hospital in Salem and I was positive I was not going to live if we did not stop at this small hospital. I knew I would not make it to Mountain Home. They got me in an exam room really quick and checked my vitals. My blood pressure was 222/177! How I did not have a stroke or heart attack baffled even the doctor on call. They drew blood and did a full cardiac workup. Everything came back normal. Except for my extremely high blood pressure. They kept me for observation for a few hours and after they got my blood pressure back down to a relatively normal level, they sent me home with instructions to follow up with my primary care physician the following day.

The next day my ex-husband took me to see my doctor. He put me on a blood pressure medicine and medicine for the flu. I went back home and crawled back in bed and continued to get worse. After another 3 days of low grade occasional fever, a headache that absolutely would not go away, pain in every muscle and joint in my body, and a weakness and fatigue that was indescribable, the ex helped me get in the shower. I was able to wash my hair and completely ran out of energy. My arms felt like they were made of lead and I could not lift them. Ex finished my shower, dried me off and dressed me. Back to my PCP we went. This time he put me on the antibiotic, Cipro. I went home and faithfully took my Cipro. I finished that round of antibiotics with NO change. So back to my PCP, where he did bloodwork and again everything was normal. He gave me another round of Cipro and sent me home. I was half way though with my second round of Cipro and I had been sick and pretty much bed ridden for 45 days. If it had not been for my ex and my daughter helping me, I am positive I would not have lived.

My anxiety got the best of me one night and Ex took me to the ER and this time we did make it to Mountain Home. Praise the Lord! The ER doctor ordered all kinds of X-rays, MRI's CT scan, and of course bloodwork. Everything, EVERYTHING, came back normal! At this point could someone explain to me what the hell "normal" is? Because if the way I felt was "normal"…we will just leave it at that. This particular ER doctor then told me she was going to get in touch with my PCP about my ER visit and that she wanted him to test me for tick-borne illnesses because she thought I might have Lyme disease. The following day I got a call from my PCP office and they wanted me to come in to have blood pulled to send to a lab that could test it for tick-borne diseases. I am almost certain they took a pint of blood that day. We made a follow up appointment for 1 week to go over the results of my labs. In the meantime I was to continue taking the Cipro. Obviously my PCP thought Cipro was the "cure-all" drug of his choice. Because it was doing NOTHING for me. Yet I continued to take it. Aren't we supposed to trust our doctors?

At my follow up appointment with my doctor, he tells me I tested positive for Lyme disease. Oh joy. I found out what was wrong with me! Now maybe I can start getting better. He immediately stopped the Cipro and started me on Doxycycline. I had by this time, taken a medical leave of absence from work and had to completely stop the college courses because I did not have the energy to even sit up much less think enough to do homework. I am back in bed and now taking Doxy. After a few days of this wonder drug, I VERY SLOWLY started feeling a little better. One day I actually stumbled from my bedroom to the living room on my own, where I ran out of all energy and laid on the couch until Ex got there when he got off work. He helped me back to bed. As I slowly started staying awake more often and was able to actually sit up in bed for more than a few minutes, I got my laptop and started researching Lyme Disease.

And then…it dawned on me! I had not picked any ticks off of me since I had divorced Ex and moved into town. I was too busy with work and college classes to even think about getting outdoors. I did not have a dog or cat so I couldn't have gotten any ticks that way either. And I will tell you that I NEVER saw a "bullseye" rash or any other type of rash before or during the three months I was in bed. The doctor was calling it "acute" Lyme Disease, meaning I had RECENTLY been bitten by a tick and that is why I got so sick suddenly. I didn't care what they called it. I was slowly starting to feel better. Slowly. As in sloth time.

But, that was something I was going to have to look into, not being bit by a tick for well over a year. So, why then, was I just now getting this ill?

Until next time...

Kelly 💚

happy birthday chad @starorbs ilysm and hope today is full of all the good feelings/vibes!! <3 hope you enjoy

nurseydex headcanons:

nursey steals his friends’ clothes always so he already had a Dex Flannel in his closet and also a Samwell Men’s Hockey Team hoodie that reads POINTDEXTER on the back when they accidentally took each other’s sweaters homes over the holidays once [the latter part from this fic]

but after they begin dating nursey acquires another flannel (a very pretty, worn in green one) and an old bruce springsteen t-shirt and regularly wears dex’s hoodies (although they all suspiciously end up in dex’s laundry basket and not nursey’s)

but also it’s not quite like the laundry thing matters bc dex is an Acts of Service person and therefore will help nursey do laundry, especially when he’s stressed or not having a great time with his mental health

when they’re away on holidays, they have google duo or discord open for as long as they can and sometimes they’re just chilling in silence like they do at the Haus and sometimes dex picks up his guitar and plays and nursey sits there quietly with his heart in his goddamn throat

falling asleep on call !!! nursey takes a semester abroad & one of them often falls asleep on call. or during holidays, if dex is having a later night than usual (this mans gets his 7-8 hours of sleep per night if he can) [inspo]

dex like ‘is it gay to want to fall asleep next to your bro and when you can’t do that, the next best thing is falling asleep on call’ and chowder is like ‘bro i love you and i am going to fine you for asking me this shit and also yes, yes it is gay’

they are holding hands and nursey lifts their intertwined hands to kiss dex’s wrist absentmindedly and dex almost combusts on the spot

they are holding hands and nursey intentionally lifts their hands to kiss dex’s wrist, looking him in the eye, and dex once again almost combusts on the spot

dex is not a fan of pda but regularly enjoys and gives out forehead kisses; likes doing the ‘arm behind the seat’ thing as he backs up the car and the ‘hand on the thigh’ thing bc he’s from a small town and that’s peak high school romance ok

nursey likes to put his feet up on the dash bc he’s a heathen and they always bicker about it

bringing extra snacks / extra gatorade for each other on road trips / away games

they watched heartstopper together and they both cried. this was expected for nursey. this was unexpected for dex

in his rare free time dex will sometimes pick up a book that nursey has lying around and read a few pages. so far he has managed to read 3/4 of hamlet, all of the ‘aristotle and dante discover the secrets of the universe’, 45 pages of ‘the raven boys’, almost all of a little book of neruda poems and 2 pages of dense as fuck foucault analysis

dex really loves reading the annotations nursey leaves on the pages

nursey is a ‘dog eared’ book person, a ‘writes in the margins’ person, a ‘writes on scrap paper / sticky notes if he’s rereading and reanalysing something dense’ person. sometimes there are lipstick stains and dex always blushes a bit, smudging his fingers over them. sometimes there is water damage or coffee stains and dex rolls his eyes and smiles fondly

nursey putting on makeup and dex falling down the stairs looking at him. its the eyeliner, its the lipstick, its nursey’s whole fucking face that is so goddamn attractive and dex is indeed gay and absolutely fucked

nursey with a new tattoo and dex falling down the stairs seeing it [inspo] nursey never lets him live it down, ever !

dex gets a tattoo and does not let nursey come along but they do eat some really good pie after and nursey helps him take care of it while it heals

dex with a flower crown and nursey goes over to lardo and says ‘i cannot do this i am simply too gay’ [inspo]