alright so there was a typhoon 10 today aka no school !! although i liked the classes i had today but it’s alright im not complaining hehe
i slept for like extra four hours than usual then tried to do my design tech homework, i ended up calling my friend for help so we just procrastinated worked on it and i basically told her the answers to biology homework oops
and after that i procrastinated but actually finished my quizlet for english, revised for a bit and spent the rest of the day calling marco hehe (if you’re following my crush stories hehehehhehe)
The week had gone by super quickly, much to your dismay. You had hoped for a slow week. You had tried to focus on school and your dance classes. Yugyeom had been a great distraction but sadly he wasn’t over today and neither was Yoongi. You had been so use to him spending the night that when he slept over last night you were shocked not to find him in bed with you. The truth was he had been over every night this week. It was weird to you, he’d hadn’t come over everyday since the beginning. One night you didn’t even have sex, you just cuddled on the couch and made out.
Then again he would barely talk to you. He’d come over and give you some of the best sex, fall asleep holding you and then would be gone once you woke up. You didn’t think much of it though because that’s something you were used to. What you were freaking out about was him texting you everyday about your parents.
Insert coin (or vibranium shield) and lots of love to save your beloved one from another dimension :D
The request from @sailorbettery regarding the final episode of AA S3! And since I am a believer of true love always saves the day so I can’t help but draw my version of the story :D So let me introduce to you the Capsule Toy Machine version of Dimension (Yeah sorry I know it looks like a Crystal Ball and please don’t ask me how Steve’s shield was inserted and then come back let’s say it is the power of love (what)) and the happy ending they deserve :D
I have only slept for a few hours and after drawing this for more than four hours I don’t really know what I am drawing/saying, all things seem to make sense when I was half falling asleep at that time so sorry please forgive me for the bugs QwQ
is gonna recommend villainous to film theory, game theory is gonna do a film theory on villainous, more people will awaken and make black hat theories, people from the undertale fandom will make theories, there will be au blackhats, Alan will notice, Alan will put the au blackhats in the show, coolhat will be canon,
Today after my biology exam (and heaps of stress!) I just felt like winding down and taking a break. The past few days have been very hard on my sleep patterns (I’m thinking of Wednesday night in particular where I slept four hours and had three coffees the morning after!) and I always start to feel it at the end of a long week. As soon as I came home, I caved and took an earth-shattering nap, but I’m still so flipping tired. Complementing my lazy day is a cardigan I wore all afternoon, my chemistry notes with my handwriting on them (so I’m still passing today’s challenge!) and everything else laid out on the bed because my bed is the best friend of all. Who needs desks when you have comfy duvets and fluffy pillows?
ps. I’m re-reading this and you can hear my sleep deprivation in my awkward choice of words
Prompt: can i request a pregnant reader x kirk? - anonymous. (yes, that’s literally the whole request)
Word count: 2,601 (GODDAMN WHAT THE HELL)
Warnings: language, pregnancy, FLUFF
A/N: so there was not much to go off of for this vague request and at first i was like “WHOO FREE REIGN” but then, after writing drafts for 3 entirely different stories, i realized it was so much harder than i thought. but it was interesting! this is super cute and went off the rails very easily but i sorta like it. i just love jim so much and i added enough bones to hold myself over (because he’s still my fav forever). forgive any typos, pls OK WELL ENJOY AND LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!
Leonard was hunched over his desk when you walked into his office, the door already wide open. His head was in his hands and his eyes focused on the PADD before him. The room smelled strongly of antiseptic. He didn’t look up as he spoke gruffly, “I’m off-duty.”
He brought his eyes to meet yours at the sound of your voice. His scleras were reddened and the adjacent skin was darkened. His hair stuck up on all ends. As always, he was scowling. “What do you want?”
“I want a drink,” you said, pulling out the chair directly across from him. You fell into it and placed your feet atop his desk, ignoring his clicks of irritation. “But seeing as alcohol is prohibited in my current state, I’ll settle for a nice heart-to-heart with a friend.”
“Heart-to-heart,” he snorted, rolling his hazel eyes with an especially sarcastic frown. “Why’d you really come, sweetheart?”
“Needed to get away from Jim.”
He nodded once and leaned back in his seat. “There we go. Did you tell him yet?”
“Nope,” you answered, popping the p. “I don’t plan on it, either.”
He cracked a smirk, the crooked smile causing an uneven creasing of his skin. He looked to be more awake now than when you first walked in. “Are you waitin’ for the baby to tell him?”
Imagine Sebastian getting you and Chris together. (Part 1)
A/N: This is a request from @cassiejade93, it’s kinda become a two parter. 🤗
“You gotta toss it up,” Sebastian directed, acting out a tossing action. “You’re not going to get it in if you throw it straight, you’re just going to blind me.” He said and you giggled, pegging a gummi bear straight at his face. “Ow,” he laughed, flinching when it got him in the cheek. “Up.” He told you and tilted his head back, opening his mouth to prepare himself for the catch.
“Up,” you nodded and copied what he demonstrated earlier. He had to dive back, but he managed to catch it. “We did it!” You threw your hands up excitedly, spilling the bag of Yupi Gummi Bears that you had in your hand. “Oops,” you giggled, picking them up off Sebastian’s couch to stuff them back into the bag.
“My God, you are an idiot.” He chuckled, getting off the couch to pick up those that had fallen on the floor of his trailer. You held out the packet for him to throw the bears back in, but he pushed it away and collected it in his hand instead. “Don’t be disgusting, Y/N. These have been on the floor.”
“If your floors aren’t clean enough to eat off, doesn’t that make you the disgusting one?” You retorted, provoking him enough to peg at gummi bear at you. “Ow!” You yelped then giggled, pegging a couple back; one bounced off his forehead, the other got caught in his hair. You snickered, but said nothing because you wanted to see how long it could stay there.
It was a game, though ongoing joke was a better description. It started with those ‘Hello, My Name Is _________’ stickers; you’d fill in the blank with something stupid and try and get it on the backs of unsuspecting victims. But over time, you’d moved on to getting small objects- such as gummi bears- in people’s hair. You and Sebastian started it, then recruited a few other members of the Infinity Cast war to join. Anthony was ridiculously good, as were Robert, Chris (Pratt), Tom (Holland), and surprisingly, Benedict. The best unsuspecting victims were Chris (Evans), Mark, Tom (Hiddleston), the stickers could last on their back all day if no one said anything. But usually someone would, especially if they were needed on set. Robert got in trouble once because of the game. He’d stuck one on Chris after he got into his Captain America suit and completely forgot about it. It wasn’t until the camera started rolling and Chris’ back was to the camera that Anthony and Joe noticed the sticker that said, “Hi, My Name Is Cool Ranch Dorito.” Everyone laughed, but a rule was made to keep the stickers away from cast members who were about to shoot.
“What?” Sebastian asked with narrowed eyes when he returned to his original spot on the couch. You were trying hard not to crack, but the sight of the orange gummi bear was too much for you. “What?” He laughed himself, patting his hair down because he could tell from your expression you’d put something in his hair. “Oh, haha. That’s real mature.” He pulled it out and you fell back, clutching your stomach from laughter. “Okay, breathe,” he chuckled. “It’s not even that funny.”
“It is when you’re sleep deprived,” you smiled at him, tugging the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your hands. “What time is it?” You yawned, resting your head on the cushion you had pressed up against the arm of the couch as you curled up on your side. “I feel like I haven’t slept in twenty-four hours, Seb.”
“Just sixteen,” he corrected.
“Ugh, God.” You groaned into the cushion and he laughed. “And I haven’t had any proper food all day. Hey,” you sat up, grinning excitedly. “Do you want to go get some dinner? I could really use some fuel, I’m pretty sure I’ve got another scene at nine.”
“I’m actually good,” he declined and you frowned. “I grabbed something earlier with Mackie,” he explained and earned a pout from you. “Why don’t you go look for Chris?” You knew from the look on his suggestive face he meant Chris Evans; the Chris you’d known the longest and were closest with. You weren’t close anymore. Not since he surprised you with his new relationship status, especially when you were so sure he felt the same way you did. “I don’t think he’s eaten and I think he just finished shooting his scene.”
“I’m not having dinner with Chris Evans.”
“Can you not pretend like you haven’t known him your entire life?”
“I can’t because I haven’t known him my entire life,” you countered. “And even if I did, I don’t want to. Why should I? He’s pretending like we don’t have feelings for each other, so why can I pretend like he’s just a co-worker?” Sebastian sighed. “It’s not like he cares anyway,” you muttered bitterly, “he’s too busy with his new girlfriend.”
“If he doesn’t care, he wouldn’t be constantly asking me about you.” He told you and you felt your heart skip a beat. “Y/N, he hates not talking to you. He hates that you’re spending more time with me than you are with him. He hates-”
“He hates not telling me the truth,” you finished for him. “Chris can’t admit that he likes me, Sebastian. Maybe I sound incredibly conceited, but I know he’s in-love with me. I know because- I am not an idiot. You’re not either, and neither is anyone else in the cast that’s why everyone was so surprised when he brought that girl to drinks. So no, I’m not going to pretend like I’m okay with just being friends because I’m not.”
“Then tell him that.”
“And be a home wrecker?” You scoffed. “No thanks. I don’t get involved with the involved, and I am done trying to get involved with Chris. If he’s so happy with Amber or Amy or- whatever her name is, then good for him. I hope he gets everything he dreams of with her and they live happily ever after. Despite everything,” you sighed with a heavy hearted smile, “I still want nothing but happiness for him. But that doesn’t mean I want to be there to watch it unfold,” you interrupted before Sebastian could say “he’s not going to be happy without his best friend;” he sighed. “I’m just too in-love with him to do that,” you admitted softly, fiddling with your sleeves. “I know I’m being selfish, but I can’t do it.”
“You’re not being selfish,” he assured you.
“Debatable,” you shrugged. “Will you take me to dinner now?”
“Yeah I’ll take you to dinner,” he smiled, getting up off the couch.
“You’re the best, Bas,” you grinned, jumping to your feet as well.
As soon as the footsteps started to approach the door Chris was standing in front of, his eyes widened and he squeezed himself into the small space between Sebastian’s and Anthony’s trailers. He didn’t want you to know that he’d heard everything you’d said to Sebastian, even if he didn’t mean for it to happen. He was coming to ask if Sebastian wanted to join him, Anthony, and Jeremy for drinks. He had no idea you’d be in there, he’d heard you were with Elizabeth. His heart wrench at your confession, and it continued to ache when he heard your voice exiting the trailer.
“Seb, do you think we can sneak a slice of pizza?”
“I think you need to stop being such a bad influence.”
Chris only emerged from the shadows after the two of you walk past, sighing as he watched you walk off with Sebastian. He couldn’t believe how stupid he was, how he’d been so blind. He was in-love with you too, he’d just been friends with you too long to realize what he was feeling was love. What was he doing? Why was he wasting his time with someone else when the girl he could easily marry and have kids with was right in front of him? He needed to fix it and he needed to fix it now, before you moved on with someone else. You weren’t going to be on a set full of married men and guys in relationships forever. If Chris didn’t get a move on, he was definitely going to lose you.
Prompt: You and Sebastian are in a movie together, and you can’t wait for that special scene.
A/N: This is short but I wanted to get something out for y’all!! thank you for reading and much love xx
“Kiss me,” you murmured softly, looking intensely into Sebastian’s eyes as he gazed back down at you, invitingly.
He bit his lip, “But, we can’t. What about him?”
“I don’t care about him anymore! I want you!” You yelled, exasperated and yearning for his lips on yours.
“You’re so infuriating! Don’t you know he loves you!?” Sebastian screamed, the vein in his neck popping out. Whoa.
“I only want you.”
Sebastian grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to him, leaning forward.
Just as you were about to finally feel his plump lips on yours, it was all ruined.
“Cut! Alright everybody, that’s a wrap for today. We’ll pick this back up tomorrow.” The director called, causing Sebastian to pull away from you and scratch his neck.
Sebastian smiled sheepishly at you, “You were great today.”
You nodded, “Thank you, so were you.”
It was so frustrating. Filming a new movie was the absolute worst thing when your co-star looked like a sex god and you were supposed to be his love interest. To say you were excited to be in this film would be an understatement, but with every chance you got to kiss him, it was ruined by one thing or another.
He was so nice, extremely intelligent, and everything that you ever looked for in a man. Unfortunately he just didn’t seem too interested in you.
You walked away from set, following the familiar path to your trailer, and plopped down onto the chair.
“You were supposed to film the scene from page 32, how’d it go?” Your assistant asked you, knowing fully well you were extremely interested in Sebastian. You wiped your forehead, sighing at the perky blonde girl in front of you, “The director called cut just before the kiss.”
“That’s unfortunate. It’ll come tomorrow, everything will be fine.” She reassured you, patting your thigh lightly.
You couldn’t help but feel desperate. Every time you saw Sebastian, you licked your lips. You had chapstick on you all the time. It seemed sad, and by the look of pity your assistant gave you, you were right about that.
“Whatever, I’m just gonna go home and sleep. Need my rest for tomorrow.” You winked, changing out of your on-set clothes and changing back into the comfortable leggings and sweater that you came in.
You wiped off the makeup and sighed at your freshly clean face, pulling your hair back into a bun and walked out of the door.
As you looked up, you ran directly into the strong chest of someone. Slowly your eyes traveled up the man’s body and you were relaxed to see it was only Sebastian.
“Oh, h-hey.” You stuttered, hugging your chest. “Hey, (Y/N), I was just going for a bite to eat, you wanna come?” He said, his smile inviting and friendly.
You grinned, “Sure.”
He led you to a small cafe that was just outside of the set, the both of you sitting down and telling your beverage choices to the waitress.
“So, I’ve seen some of your movies,” he started, “and you’re pretty damn good actress. I think the director made a good choice in casting you.”
Your face grew red, “T- thank you. I’ve hoped to become as good as an actress as, say, Audrey Hepburn or Elizabeth Taylor.”
Sebastian smiled, “I think you’re already there. You did a pretty damn good job at looking like you wanted to tear my clothes off on set today.”
A giggle bubbled from your throat, “Welp, that’s my job.”
The waitress came by and took your orders, obviously interested in Sebastian. As she walked away you decided to change the subject.
“I recently watched a few of your movies as well.” You said, not a bit more confident.
“Really, what one?” He asked inquisitively.
You bit your lip, “The Bronze. I think you really brought that character, what was his name,” you snapped your fingers, “Lance. You really brought Lance to life.”
It was his turn to go red, his ears burning as he smiled sheepishly, “Yeah, that uh- that was quite a movie to… film.”
“Oh it certainly must have been!” You laughed, throwing a peanut into your mouth and smirking at Sebastian who hid his face in his hands.
The meal went on simply enough, the both of you talking about various roles you had and just getting to know each other in general. He talked fondly of his time on set in The Martian, talking of his love of space and his interest in astronauts. He mentioned it was something that he thought about a lot.
You talked of your movie roles, laughing about the small role you had when you were just starting out and embarrassed about the sex scene you had to have.
Sebastian followed you back to your rented apartment near the set, conversation not stopping as he skipped behind you with his hands in his pockets. He was animated and lively, something you had yet to see much of when acting.
You invited him in, thanking him for paying for the meal and sitting on the couch with beers in your hands.
“How do you feel about the scene tomorrow?” He asked suddenly, his eyes lit with mischievous thoughts. “Which one?” You asked once your lips popped off of the bottle.
“You know,” he chuckled, “the one where you can finally plant one on me.”
“If I’m not mistaken, you’re the one who kisses me.” You defend, shrugging your shoulders.
“Fine, fine.” He murmured, his eyes brightening with his smile.
Your hands ran over the condensation on your bottle, the two of you sitting in a comfortable silent. He studied your features while you looked away, his eyes moving to something else once he noticed you staring back.
“Do you think we should… practice for tomorrow?” Sebastian asked.
You almost spat out your beer. “Practice kissing?”
He nodded, “Yeah. I think it would be good, really show our body chemistry on camera.” He explained, now sitting closer and your knees hitting each other.
Without saying a word, he moved a hair out of your face and tucked it gently behind your ear. His hand rested on your cheek and he leaned forward.
Every muscle in your body stiffened, the moment you had been waiting for forever finally happening.
As his lips met yours, you sighed happily and relaxed into his touch. His lips tasted sweet, like cherries with a hint of the apple ale that he had been drinking just moments before.
His tongue tasted even stronger of the ale, it cold against yours but every move he made only made you want to kiss him longer.
After a moment he pulled away, his eyes meeting yours. You cleared your throat, “Yeah, that was good. You’re pretty good.”
Sebastian threw his head back and laughed. A real, belly clenching laugh. He wiped tears away from his face, only to chuckle more once he saw your smile, “I’m sorry, doll. You just-” he laughed some more, “you’re so awkward. It’s lovely.”
“Hey!” you threw a throwpillow at him, “don’t be a jackass.”
Sebastian giggled quietly to himself, only to stop and look directly into your eyes. “I’m going to kiss you again, and this time it isn’t for practice.”
Before you had time to process what he had said, his lips were on yours and your back was on the couch. Not for practice this time, do what you can! you thought to yourself, wrapping your arms around his neck and enjoying the sweet taste of cherries once again.
His hands stayed on your hips, pushing you down onto the couch and his lips capturing yours once again.
You pulled away, out of breath and watching Sebastian’s chest heave as he smiled. “Do you think we’re ready for tomorrow?”
“I don’t know… maybe you should kiss me one more time to find out.” You murmured cheekily, leaning up to kiss him again.
He smiled suddenly, the haze of fatigue gone. “Oh, aye. Chickens are verra poor company, especially on a long journey.” Realizing that the dressing was completed, he hunched the shoulder experimentally, wincing as he did so.
“Don’t do that!” I said in alarm. “You really mustn’t move it. In fact,” I glanced at the table, to be sure there were some strips of dry fabric left. “I’m going to strap that arm to your side. Hold still.”
He didn’t speak further, but relaxed a bit under my hands when he realized that it wasn’t going to hurt. I felt an odd sense of intimacy with this young Scottish stranger, due in part, I thought, to the dreadful story he had just told me, and in part to our long ride through the dark, pressed together in drowsy silence. I had not slept with many men other than my husband, but I had noticed before that to sleep, actually sleep with someone did give this sense of intimacy, as though your dreams had flowed out of you to mingle with his and fold you both in a blanket of unconscious knowing. A throwback of some kind, I thought. In older, more primitive times (like these? asked another part of my mind), it was an act of trust to sleep in the presence of another person. If the trust was mutual, simple sleep could bring you closer together than the joining of bodies.
The strapping finished, I helped him on with the rough linen shirt, easing it over the bad shoulder. He stood up to tuck it one-handed into his kilt, and smiled down at me.
“I thank ye, Claire. You’ve a good touch.” His hand reached out as though to touch my face, but he seemed to think better of it; the hand wavered and dropped to his side. Apparently he had felt that odd surge of intimacy too. I looked hastily away, flipping a hand in a think-nothing-of-it gesture.
My gaze traveled around the room, taking in the smoke-blacked fireplace, the narrow, unglazed windows, and the solid oak furnishings. No electrical fittings. No carpeting. No shiny brass knobs on the bedstead.
It looked, in fact, like an eighteenth-century castle. But what about Frank? The man I had met in the wood looked disturbingly like him, but Jamie’s description of Captain Randall was completely foreign to everything I knew about my gentle, peace-loving husband. But then, if it were true— and I was beginning to admit, even to myself, that it might be— then he could in fact be almost anything. A man I knew only from a genealogical chart was not necessarily bound to resemble his descendants in conduct.
But it was Frank himself I was concerned with at the moment. If I was, in fact, in the eighteenth century, where was he? What would he do when I failed to return to Mrs. Baird’s? Would I ever see him again? Thinking about Frank was the last straw. Since the moment I stepped into the rock and ordinary life ceased to exist, I had been assaulted, threatened, kidnapped and jostled. I had not eaten or slept properly for more than twenty-four hours. I tried to control myself, but my lip wobbled and my eyes filled in spite of myself.
I turned to the fire to hide my face, but too late. Jamie took my hand, asking in a gentle voice what was wrong. The firelight glinted on my gold wedding band, and I began to sniffle in earnest.
“Oh, I’ll … I’ll be all right, it’s all right, really, it’s … just my … my husband … I don’t—”
“Ah lass, are ye widowed, then?” His voice was so full of sympathetic concern that I lost control entirely.
“No … yes … I mean, I don’t … yes, I suppose I am!” Overcome with emotion and tiredness, I collapsed against him, sobbing hysterically.
The lad had nice feelings. Instead of calling for help or retreating in confusion, he sat down, gathered me firmly onto his lap with his good arm and sat rocking me gently, muttering soft Gaelic in my ear and smoothing my hair with one hand. I wept bitterly, surrendering momentarily to my fear and heartbroken confusion, but slowly I began to quiet a bit, as Jamie stroked my neck and back, offering me the comfort of his broad, warm chest. My sobs lessened and I began to calm myself, leaning tiredly into the curve of his shoulder. No wonder he was so good with horses, I thought blearily, feeling his fingers rubbing gently behind my ears, listening to the soothing, incomprehensible speech. If I were a horse, I’d let him ride me anywhere.
This absurd thought coincided unfortunately with my dawning realization that the young man was not completely exhausted after all. In fact, it was becoming embarrassingly obvious to both of us. I coughed and cleared my throat, wiping my eyes with my sleeve as I slid off his lap.
“I’m so sorry … that is, I mean, thank you for … but I …” I was babbling, backing away from him with my face flaming. He was a bit flushed, too, but not disconcerted. He reached for my hand and pulled me back. Careful not to touch me otherwise, he put a hand under my chin and forced my head up to face him.
“Ye need not be scairt of me,” he said softly. “Nor of anyone here, so long as I’m with ye.” He let go and turned to the fire.
“You need somethin’ hot, lass,” he said matter-of-factly, “and a bit to eat as well. Something in your belly will help more than anything.” I laughed shakily at his attempts to pour broth one-handed, and went to help. He was right; food did help. We sipped broth and ate bread in a companionable silence, sharing the growing comfort of warmth and fullness.
Finally, he stood up, picking up the fallen quilt from the floor. He dropped it back on the bed, and motioned me toward it. “Do ye sleep a bit, Claire. You’re worn out, and likely someone will want to talk wi’ ye before too long.”
This was a sinister reminder of my precarious position, but I was too exhausted to care much. I uttered no more than a pro forma protest at taking the bed; I had never seen anything so enticing. Jamie assured me that he could find a bed elsewhere. I fell headfirst into the pile of quilts and was asleep before he reached the door.
Neil does not know a world without Andrew at his back. He’s always been there, a constant, reassuring presence. He’s almost like Neil’s shadow, if a shadow were prone to sarcastic comments and making sure Neil doesn’t pick too many fights he can’t win.
(Every time reminds Neil of the first. Some kid, one of the ones who’d clearly been given everything from cradle onwards, had decided he was entitled to Neil’s favourite glittery crayon. Neil, in turn, decided he was entitled to the other kid’s juice. And to forcibly take the crayon back, no matter how that would escalate events. Just before it got to any kind of tackle, Andrew turned up - and even though he was short Neil had no idea how he’d never noticed him before - and threatened the kid into leaving it be. Neil had tried to thank Andrew, and he’d shrugged and said, “‘S only fair.”)
(Andrew’s always been the same. All he wants is for things to be fair. Maybe a little more fair for his friends than anyone else, but isn’t that true of everyone?)
“Why did you pick us?” Neil laughs around the mouth of a beer bottle, looking into Andrew’s ever-clear hazel eyes.
“This isn’t gym, Josten,” Andrew replies. “And if it were, you wouldn’t be my first choice.”
“I’m the fastest runner you know. Fact.”
“Less so since you graduated high school. You got lazy.”
Neil rolls his eyes, an over-exaggerated gesture to minimise the world rolling with them. “Whatever, Minyard. Stop avoiding the question.”
“Not my fault your questions are vague.”
Neil would groan if he hadn’t had almost sixteen years of dealing with his shitheel of a best friend. (Even if ‘friend’ has never encapsulated all that Andrew is to him. He’d choose ‘soulmate’, because he’s sure there’s no one else who could ever understand the core of what it is to be Neil as well as Andrew does, but since Andrew rejects Neil’s friendship almost daily and scorns the idea of romance, Neil sticks to ‘Andrew’.) “Andrew. At the young age of… whatever. Whenever. Young. We were young. You stuck up for me so I didn’t get in a brawl with a rich kid who’d have fought dirty when all I wanted was my glitter crayon. And since then you’ve been more loyal than, like, an extremely long-lived dog, right? So what did you see in the dumbass who cared more about his crayon than childhood friends? And… whoever else. I know there were more,” Neil says, turning his grin to Kevin for half a second.
Andrew raises his eyebrows a fraction of an inch, a movement barely visible in the dim light, “Dumbasses who wouldn’t survive a day without me.”
Do you have any information on the founding fathers on their deathbeds?
In chronological order:
A few days before his death, Benjamin Franklin, already on his last days began to run a temperature and felt pain in his chest from an imposture in his leg lung. His difficulty in breathing increased until he was almost suffocating. “He rose from his bed,” wrote Benjamin Rush later to Richard Price, “and begged that it be made up for him so that he might die in a descent manner. His daughter told him that she hoped he would recover and live many years longer. He calmly replied: “I hope not”. Upon being advised to change his position in bed, so that he might breath easy, he said: “A dying man can do nothing easy.” The empyema burst and breathing became almost impossible and he passed into a coma. His grandsons William Temple and Benjamin Bache watched him as he died quietly at eleven in the night of April 17th at eighty-four. (Benjamin Franklin by Karl Van Doren.
On Thursday, December 12, 1799, George Washington was out on horseback supervising farming activities from late morning until three in the afternoon, however during this ride it began to hail and rain. The next morning brought a sore throat and Washington’s voice became increasingly more hoarse. Saturday, December 14th, he was seen by three different doctors who bled and nearly suffocated him with drinks and was bed-ridden. At five in the afternoon George Washington sat up from bed, dressed, and walked over to his chair. He returned to bed within thirty minutes and Washington said, “Doctor, I die hard; but I am not afraid to go; I believed from my first attack that I should not survive it; my breath can not last long.” Soon afterward, Washington thanked all three doctors for their service. At ten at night George Washington spoke, requesting to be “decently buried” and to “not let my body be put into the Vault in less than three days after I am dead.” His last words were “’tis well.” Between ten and eleven at night on December 14, 1799, George Washington passed away surrounded by his wife, a few friends, three housemaids and his valet Christopher Sheels. (Washington by Ron Chernow).
After being shot in a duel with Aaron Burr, Alexander Hamilton was rowed across the Hudson and was preoccupied with spiritual matters. No sooner was he brought to the Bayard home, he asked to see Reverend Benjamin Moore, the rector of Trinity Church. Moore balked at giving Hamilton holy communion as he wrestled with death. Hamilton then turned to Reverend John M. Mason, pastor of the Scotch Presbyterian Church. When Mason entered the chamber he took Hamilton’s hand and the two men exchanged a “melancholy salutation”. Hamilton was unable to get it from him either. Mason tried to console Hamilton, “I perceive it to be so,” Hamilton said. “I am a sinner. I look to His mercy.” He then stressed a hatred of dueling “I used every expedient to avoid the interview, but I have found for some tie past that my life must be exposed to that man. I went to the field determined not to take his life.” He then said “My dear sir, you perceive my unfortunate situation and no doubt have been made acquainted with the circumstances which led to it. It is my desire to receive the communion at your hands. I hop you will not conceive there is any impropriety in my request.” He added, “It has been some time past been the wish of my heart and it was my intention to take an early opportunity of uniting myself to the church by the reception of that holy ordinance.” He also expressed his faith in God’s mercy. Lifting his hands, he said, “I have no ill will against Colonel Burr. I met him with a fixed resolution to do him no harm. I forgive all that happened” The next morning, Hamilton’s mind still clear but his body was motionless. Eliza allowed the children into his presence and lined them at the foot of his bed. According to the Doctor, “he opened his eyes, gave them on look, closed them again till they were taken away.” (Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow).
A few days before Thomas Jefferson’s death, bedridden, he said goodbye to his family, addressing them each in turn. To an eight year old grandson, he smiled and said, “George does not understand what all this means.” To a great-granddaughter he quotes the Gospel of Luke: “Lord, now wettest thou thy servant depart in peace.” Thomas Jefferson Randolph, a grandson, suggested he was looking better, but Jefferson would have none of it. “Do not imagine for a moment that I feel the smallest solicitude about the result,” Jefferson said, “I am like an old watch, with a pinion worn out here, and a wheel there, until it can go no longer.” He awoke to a noice and wondered wether he had heard the name of the Reverend Frederick Hatch. No, he was told. “I have no objection to see him, as a king and good neighbor,” Jefferson said, turning over. He composed a poem for Patsy alluding to his imminent reunion with his wife and Polly. Lying in his alcove bed, Jefferson mused about the Revolution, telling stories of the great drama. “A few hours more, Doctor, and it will be all over,” he said at one point. A five forty-rive pm on July 2nd, he took laudanum in grog. He was given tea three hours later and brandy four hours after that. He slept fitfully as the clock tinged. In the evening of July 3rd at seven pm, he asked, “Ah! Doctor, are you still there?” before saying “Is it the Fourth?”. The Doctor confirmed this and Jefferson said “Oh God!” before taking more laudanum. Two hours later at nine pm, the Doctor awoke him to give him more but he said “No, Doctor, nothing more.” Three hours later he asked, “This is the Fourth?” and there was silence because it was not, he repeated the question and the man lied to him. “Ah, said Jefferson. “Just as I wished.” During one of his dreams he said “Warn the Committee to be on the alert,” and motioned in the air as if he was writing something. At ten he stirred and stared at a grandson and wanted his head elevated. His lips were then at a request wetted with a sponge. At twelve fifty on July 4th, Thomas Jefferson died with his eyes open mixed upon his alcove. (Thomas Jefferson: Art of Power by Jon Meacham).
July 3rd, 1826 John Adams was only able to utter a few words. Early morning of Tuesday, July 4th, Adams lay in bed with his eyes closed, breathing with great difficulty. Thomas Adams sent off an urgent letter to John Quincy Adams saying their father was “sinking rapidly.” Efforts were made to give Adams more comfort by changing his position and he awakened. Told that it was the fourth, he answered “It is a great day. It is a good day.” Late in the afternoon, he stirred and whispered clearly enough to be understood “Thomas Jefferson survives.” Somewhat later, struggling for breath, he whispered to his grand-daughter Susanna, “Help me, child! Help me!” then lapsed into silence. At about six twenty on July 4th, 1826, John Adams was dead. (John Adams by David McCullough).
On the night of May 14, 1829, John Jay was stricken with palsy, probably caused by a stroke. He lived for three days, dying in Bedford, New York, on May 17. That same day, as John Jay was near his death he was asked if he had any final words for his children. He responded with four words: “They have the Book.” [x]
After his wife’s death, unable to live by himself and forced to sell all his property to pay for debts due to Congress not paying him, James Monroe lived with his daughter Maria in New York with her children and husband. After his wife’s death he also expressed that he would not live the year without her and by December, 1830 it was tough for him to leave his bed. He grew weaker, plagued by a cough. When John Quincy Adams came to visit him in April, 1831, Monroe could not leave his room and cut his visit short. In May he wrote up his will dividing everything equally between his two daughters. In a letter to James Madison, he said his greatest regret was that they would never see each other again. That was the last letter he ever had the strength to write and did not respond to Madison’s letter back. On July 4th, 1831, surrounded by Maria’s family, he died shortly after three in the morning, fully conscious. According to sources at the scene, Monroe’s last words were, “I only regret that I should leave this world without again beholding him.” The “him” Monroe was speaking of was James Madison. (James Monroe: The Quest of Destiny by Harry Ammon).
For six months before James Madison’s death, he was “unable to walk, and spent most of his time reclining on a couch.” My mind, however, “was bright and with his numerous visitors he talked with as much animation strength of voice as I ever heard him in his best days.” May 1836 he roused from bed one final time and talked eagerly about his War of 1812 experience. A few days before his death, Madison spent his time reading Professor George Tucker’s life of Thomas Jefferson. On June 27th, he spent several hours painfully dictating thanks for the dedication of the book to him. It was suggested he take “stimulators” which would prolong his life until the 4th of July and be the last founding father and fourth to die on the famous date. The morning of June 28th, Paul Jennigs, a slave, shaved him and brought him breakfast. Nelly Willis, a niece came to visit with her uncle as he ate, when he had difficulty swallowing, Mrs. Willis asked him what the trouble war. Jennings recalled that Madison replied, “nothing more than a change of mind, my dear” and then “his head instantly dropped and he ceased breathing as quietly as the snuff of a candle goes out.” (James Madison by Ralph Ketcham).
A Voltron fic for @taylor-tut who requested some self-sacrificing Lance! This got really intense at some point and I don’t know if this is what you were hoping for but it has 2,5K words and it’s half past three in the morning.
Warnings for general Langst, illness and me attempting to write dialogue.
Lance’s shoulder is burning. It’s burning because he got shot with some weird space gun on the last planet and he hasn’t tended to it, but he really doesn’t have time for it right now. He has better things to do than look at some stupid graze that was his own fault, because Shiro, Pidge and Hunk are all down with some sort of a virus or an infection or something and for all his battle skills Keith is useless in taking care of people.
It shouldn’t matter - Lance is, after all, quite used to taking care of several people at the same time on his own. He remembers that one time visiting home and finding his whole family down with the flu because vaccines cost money they don’t have, but the Garrison gives them out to keep outbreaks from happening. What he’s not used to, however, is looking after people when he himself is feeling like crap.