Hey Guys Can We Talk About The Fact That Radar Is Actually Pretty Strong???

hey guys can we talk about the fact that Radar is actually pretty strong???

i mean it makes sense when you think about it considering the fact that he lives on a farm, but it's honestly still surprising coming from such a scrawny-looking guy

this is your gentle reminder to stop fighting against your adhd and instead structure your life around it

buy a pack of chapsticks and put one in the pocket of all of your coats and jackets because you always forget to bring one and chapped lips is sensory hell

leave important things where you can see them. if they go in a box or a drawer you will forget they exist

put any appointments or deadlines in your phone calendar As Soon As you get them. set a reminder for a week before, a day before, an hour before, as many as you need as often as you need them.

when that little voice in your head says "i dont need to write that down, ill remember it" that is the devil talking!!! write it down anyway!!

plan for down time. have a few hours at the end of every day to just do fun stuff like engage in your hyperfixations. even if you didnt get all of your work done that day, have the rest anyway. you probably spent the whole day beating yourself up for not doing what you Should be doing, so you still need the break.

if you never eat vegetables because its too much effort to chop and cook them, get the frozen or canned shit. it doesnt go off for ages and you just have to microwave it. theres no point buying fresh vegetables if they just keep going off and being left to rot in the bottom of your fridge

if you struggle to decide what to have for dinner every day, take the decision out of it. choose a set of meals and eat those on rotation until you get sick of them, then choose some new ones and do it again.

its not stupid if it works! our brains literally have a chemical deficiency. you are allowed to accommodate yourself. go forth and stop making your life more difficult than it has to be because "this shouldn't be this hard". it is hard, so make it easier.

NO GFA ANON I HOPE UR AWAKE CAUSE I FINALLY FINISHED. THE SICKFIC

I no longer have the message in my inbox RIP but here it is at last your requested Hunnihawk sickfic I sincerely hope you enjoy this and im so sorry it took me so long to do

“There,” Hawkeye sits back on the cot, satisfied with the job he’s done of tucking BJ in, “You comfy?” 

“No,” BJ replies, miserable and unhelpful, “But thanks.”

Hawkeye gives his shoulder a sympathetic pat. “Believe me, I’d rather keep you in a comfy post-OP bed,” He tells him, letting his hand linger on his shoulder, “But we’re almost full in there, and Radar said we’re expecting more to come in tomorrow, so you’ll have to make do with the roaches and rats in here.” 

BJ leans back against his pillows, settling a bit more into his cot. “How dare they come and take our beds,” He mutters, “Don’t they know I’m dying?” He asks, with a playfulness to his voice that makes it clear he’s not being serious. 

“How could they?” Hawkeye asks in return, matching BJ’s playful tone, “You’re such a strong, silent type that nobody would ever know you’re sick.” This is, of course, a bold-faced lie. BJ’s been down with this fever for a few days, and he’s been, to put it kindly, a nightmare. Thought with affection. Kind of. 

Doctors always make the worst patients. This is law, a truth universally known and acknowledged. Hawkeye knows he’s a pain in the ass to deal with as a patient, he pities whoever has to deal with him whenever he’s sick or injured enough to need any sort of care. He’s a goddamn nightmare.

BJ still manages to be on a whole different level, though. 

He starts off stubborn. Insisting on carrying on, dodging all attempts to doctor him, that sort of thing. And then, when it catches up to him enough and gets his ass put in bed, he gets sneaky. So far someone- usually Hawkeyes- has had to go and hunt him down and put him back to bed five different times.

It’s only been two days. 

“You sure you don’t need any help?” BJ asks quietly. He brings a hand up, loops it around Hawkeye’s wrist.

“Not from you,” Hawkeye replies. He reaches over with his other hand, places it against BJ’s forehead to check his temperature, “Not until this fever of yours decides to break. You’re so hot I could fry an egg on your forehead right now.” He remarks. 

BJ musters another weak grin. “You’re not so bad yourself.” He rasps. It’s a line that would be much more effective if he didn’t sound like he ate a dirt road for breakfast. 

Hawkeye rolls his eyes. “Real cute,” He deadpans, taking his hand back and folding it in his lap, “I should get back to OR,” He continues with a sigh, “Make sure everything’s ready for tomorrow.” He’s dreading tomorrow. He’s already exhausted, he’s coming off a double shift and he’s looking at another long day tomorrow once the next batch of wounded comes in. That’d be enough on its own, but without BJ…

“Do you have to?” BJ asks, with a look that borders on a pout.

He doesn’t have to, is the thing. He doesn’t even want to. “I should.” He replies. 

“But do you have to?” BJ asks again.

Hawkeye raises a brow at him. “Where are you going with this, Beej?” 

BJ tugs on his wrist. “C’mere.” He says.

Ah. “No,” Hawkeye replies, trying to take his hand back. BJ tightens his grip, “No, you’re a one-man sauna and I want no part of it,” He tugs on his hand a bit more insistently, to no avail. Damn BJ’s stupid strength, “BJ.” 

“Hawkeye.” Stupid fucking smirk on his face.

“Let-“ He doesn’t get to finish that sentence. BJ grabs his arm with his other hand, and yanks. Hawkeye yelps, tumbling over directly on top of BJ, who wraps both arms around him and holds fast.

“Hi.” BJ grins, probably thinking he’s really cute.

Hawkeye scowls up at him. “Release me, villain.”

“No.” BJ’s grin doesn’t so much as falter.

“If you get me sick, I’m killing you,” Hawkeye informs him, “I mean it. I’m killing you with my own two hands. I’m a surgeon, I know how to do that in creative ways.”

“Enlighten me.” BJ invites, making no move to let him go.

“I’ll start by putting swapping your kidneys,” Hawkeye threatens, “And then I’m gonna put your stomach where your heart oughta be. And then I’ll get really creative.”

BJ chuckles, low and warm. “Will you, now.” 

“I have not yet begun to threaten,” Hawkeye proclaims, “Just wait till I get my hands on your spine.” 

“I’m terrified,” BJ says, not looking nor sounding terrified in the slightest, “Quaking in my boots.” 

If looks could kill, Hawkeye would currently be killing BJ with his glare. “I hate you.” He tells him, with no real heat at all.

“Love you, too, sweetheart.” BJ replies, knowing him all too well.

Hawkeye sighs. Long and loud. This is really comfortable, is the thing. BJ is a bit too warm for his liking, but he can suck it up. He’s exhausted. He isn’t actually required to be in OR right now. Getting as much rest as possible before tomorrow is ideal, honestly. He’s got no actual good reason to fight back against this.

“You’re a goddamn pain in my ass.” He tells BJ anyways, the closest he’ll get to admitting defeat. 

“I know.” BJ says, looking way too pleased about it. 

smiles

GREAT a news babes. mash is even funnier when you’re high

Hawkeye's that friend who asks "hey are my hands cold?" while either putting his ice cold hands on your neck or shoving them up into your shirt