#tw lice

[holybananapants]

vinegar helps with lice

Thanks! I did a treatment with over the counter lice shampoo and so I’m good for the next week when I repeat it to be safe.

[propertyofwhitney67]

How would dad LIs deal with their children after they discover their babies have lices?

Oh hell...

God the amount of times I've had lice, awful. Once time my mom got lice shampoo in my eyes and I had to go to the hospital, I was blind-ish for a few days. That hospital closed down not long after that bc it was not a good hospital. But hey, I got a teddy bear from the hospital during my stay. They asked me what color I thought he was, bc I couldn't fucking see, and I guessed blue but he's green and I named him greene. Wow that got longer than I intended...

Whitney is in full parent mode, pulling his kids from class and immediately getting lice combs and shampoo from the store. This is gonna be a long night

Kylar has no fucking idea what to do, please help him manage the situation

Robin fucking panics and buys every product he can find, he calms down once he starts working on their hair though. It's safe to say you have product left over for when it inevitably happens again

P!Sydney panics but also goes into full parent mode. He knows exactly what to buy and what he needs to do.

C!Sydney is basically the same but not as panicked, more calm

Alex does what his parents always did, shave the hair and pray. Please don't let him do this, tell him how to treat it. Yeah it's work but please don't shave their hair

Avery

Eden sighs deeply, really not wanting to deal with lice but it's gotta be taken care of. He sends you to get the lice stuff while he sets up an area where he can do their hair

[teratodentata]

Hey what if everyone got lice

(Gale immediately grew their hair back with magic)

[gnarpgnarpworldtour]

throwback to when i was insistent and devout in my belief that (certain) subliminals could actually work as a child and listened to a specific set of audios for weeks at a time, mind u im like the most inconsistent person ever, much more as a child. thinking the phantom feelings and itchness i had every now and then were proof that it was working.

It was lice... but it makes me really think about how my mind worked back then (i feel like im also due for some sort of mental checkup but mmmm that sounds too official)

I was feelin nostalgic seein old journals and looking at old youtube accounts. Kinda makes me miss that belief, though with what i consume nowadays its probably good that I was able to develop some sense of reality.

[em0goose]

I think it would be funny if Soap was one of those kids that ALWAYS had lice

But it would make more sense if it was Ghost, cause.. yknow. His parents neglected him and Tommy

They can have chronic lice together /silly

[vukovich]

Like a Felon Knows the Law

tw: lice and "Mudblood"

During their fifth year, Hogwarts had a head lice problem. Nobody was sure if it started in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff first, but the Hufflepuff common room was a likely suspect, owing to the amount of upholstery.

"None of our concern," Draco had told Pansy, tucking a bite of toast with orange marmalade in his cheek. "It's never been an issue before. Muggle problem."

Pansy's hum was unconvinced.

The next day, Longbottom showed up to lunch with his hair buzzed short. That night, all the brushes, combs, and hats in the Slytherin boys' dormitory had disappeared, and the pillowcases smelled like sanitising spells.

Theo absently scratched the back of his head in befuddlement, and Draco's pristine life flashed before his eyes. It was dull, as far as flashbacks go.

He didn't sleep a wink that night, and spent it over-invested in every tickle of a hair near his ear, or his neck, or down the centre of his back. And so it was with utmost exhaustion, irritation, and suspicion that he greeted Granger in the morning.

"This is all your fault," he said, sneering down at her on their way out of the Great Hall. "Filthy Mudblood, bringing vermin into the castle."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

A haughty chuckle came from behind Draco. He turned to find Justin Finch-Fletchley, local Muggleborn aristocrat, smirking. He was insufferable, given that his upbringing mirrored Draco's, but the optics were better.

Justin brushed past him, throwing him off-step. "At least," Justin said snidely, "Mudbloods know how to get rid of lice." He cast Draco a backward glance. "Good luck hexing your way out of this, Malfoy."

Draco didn't sleep that night, either.

Five AM found him sitting on the edge of a very peeved, very bleary-eyed Theo's bed.

"The fuck you want me to do?" Theo mumbled. "Avada Kedavra your scalp like some William Tell shit?"

"Who?"

"Nevermind."

Draco watched Theo fall back asleep. Then nudged him. "Hey."

Theo snarled with his eyes still shut. "What?"

Draco sighed. "Nothing."

But it wasn't nothing, it was a big, fat something, because Justin wasn't wrong. Draco went home for the weekend, and his parents had never heard of head lice. He went so far ask to ask the portraits, and then the House Elves, who after much pestering and shaking of their bald heads, finally looked him square in the eye and said, "Why would Elves know of Muggle hair parasites?"

Draco shuddered at the word 'parasites' and hid in his bedroom until Sunday night.

When he arrived back at school, two of the Ravenclaw First Year boys had fresh haircuts, and he chose to interpret it as further evidence of pestilence.

He hid in the library. Only, it wasn't hiding if he had a stack of books next to him on the floor, below the window seat. He turned the spines against the wall so no one walking past would know that they were exclusively texts on invasive species, magical extermination, and livestock management.

Potter was the first one to stop and harass him.

"You look like you're waiting for your mum to come pick you up after school."

Draco obliquely understood him and chose to take offense. He thumbed through a promising few pages on woodlouse habitat preferences and wondered if his hair was at all similar to decomposing wood fibres.

"Potter, I'm surprised they even allow you inside the library after you-"

With the toe of his shoe, Potter nudged the pile of books away from the wall, then adjusted his glasses to read the titles. His eyebrows rose, then dimples formed on either side of his lips as he suppressed a grin.

"Doing some research, are we?" he asked. Draco sat, mortified, and said nothing. Potter's ire thawed around the edges, and he looked down with something near pity. "You're not likely to get lice, you know. Or, not likely to get them and not notice, I guess. It's-" he gestured to his own hair "It'd be really obvious if you got them, I mean. Because your hair's so light. And it's easier to find them in straight hair."

"Oh," was all Draco came up with, because it didn't solve the problem. He rallied the bit of piss and vinegar he had left. "I suppose you'd know, wouldn't you, Potter?"

It was supposed to be a thrown lance, but it landed like a desperately tossed lifeline.

"Yeah," Potter said gently. "I mean, I never got them, but we had lice checks at St Grogory's." He rested his bum against the window seat, his knee next to Draco's shoulder. "I could check your hair. You know. If you wanted me to. I guess me and Hermione are probably the only ones who really know how."

Draco's burgeoning phobia won out over his inborn prejudice, and he replied with nothing but a terse nod.

Harry sat on the window bench and, in what he perhaps thought was a brazen display of oblivious male heterosexuality, swung a leg on either side of Draco's body. Giddyup-no-homo.

Draco's shoulders did fit rather nicely between Harry's knees. They both silently regretted wearing their tightest trousers.

Unable to reach his wand in his back pocket, and not having a comb with him, Harry pulled a clean quill from his robe and parted Draco's hair just a centimetre off from where it already lay neatly.

Draco's arms ran with gooseflesh at the keen touch of the nib against his scalp. He sighed the second time Potter drew it through his hair. By the sixth time, Harry had him lay his temple against the inside of his thigh while he stroked through the hair behind Draco's ear.

Eventually, Draco dozed off, and Harry didn't admit that he'd seen every square millimetre of Draco's scalp thrice over. He let Draco sleep against his inner thigh while he read more than anyone needed to know about the mighty woodlouse. Crabs of the undergrowth. Majestic shrimp of the land.

Harry fell asleep with his hand cupping Draco's cheek and dreamt of Fraggle Rock, but it was a coral reef, and Draco was there.

Nothing was found that day in the library. Nothing tangible, anyway. But just to be sure, they kept checking.

Thirty years later, Harry hikes a leg over Draco and sits himself on the shabby floral sofa, in the front room where the telly blocks the bottom of the bay window. Harry watches MASH reruns while Draco watches the street lights come on. His hands sort through Draco's hair by feel.

It's not a surprise to find Draco sitting on the front room floor. His Wizengamot robes were hung in the hall too neatly for him to have had a good day.

Draco lays his head against Harry's inner thigh, and they both sigh. It's not every day they sit like this, but often enough.

Harry doesn't bother asking about Draco's day, because if there were anything Draco could do about it, he wouldn't be sitting on the floor with a book in his lap. Most likely, a trial witness got cold feet, or a policy change was delayed by a committee.

Hermione takes her judicial frustrations out at the driving range, and Draco lets Harry skim them from his scalp with his wand, or a quill nib, or the blunt edge of his fingernails.

On the telly, Hawkeye says something clever, but Harry doesn't catch it, because the edge of his nail catches on the edge of something on Draco's scalp. Startled, he looks down to find a rough pink patch near the whorl at Draco's crown.

He rubs it, and Draco doesn't wince. "Did you hit your head on something?"

"No," Draco replies, closing his book. "Why?"

"Nothing," Harry says cooly, but a thread of concern worms its way in. "There's just a mark."

Draco hums and reaches up to rub it. "Odd."

Ultimately, it ends up being a big deal for blessedly nothing. A biopsy, a few months of a particularly obnoxious cream, and £800 in not-quite-right hats later, the spot is gone.

One evening, the street lights outside make the clouds orange, and on the telly, Klinger is having his sanity questioned while Harry rubs his thumb over the small scar on Draco's scalp and says, for the dozenth time, "So glad we caught that early," shortly followed by, "Could've been a lot worse."

Draco just nods, like he does every time Harry is obviously thinking of all the horrible outcomes that didn't happen. And then it occurs to him that if it hadn't been for the Hogwarts lice epidemic, they wouldn't have caught it early. It would have been a lot worse.

There's no one person in particular he can thank for the long-ago happenstance. He never did find out who introduced head lice to the Hogwarts class of '98. He does know, however, that there are feelings regarding the incident which still need addressing.

Apologising to Granger would be embarrassing, in the best case, and put him in an early grave in several other cases. They're both Mugwumps now, but Granger was long-established and climbing the ranks before they gave Draco his father's empty seat.

Granger had been the only vote against him. After his induction, she'd shook his hand grudgingly, looking as if she wanted to challenge him to a rematch of his own election.

"I suppose," she'd said, "it's time to see if we can entrust a ferret with guarding the chicken coop."

It was a lacking analogy for someone so clever, and it made him pause to examine her. She looked as though she'd been up all night studying. But the only thing on the Wizengamot's docket that entire day was the vote over his seat, and the following giving and taking of the oaths.

He licked his lips and hazarded a guess. "I think you put more deliberation into your vote than anyone else here."

She shot him a watery smile. "You don't sound upset that I voted against you."

He took a moment to think. "I never trusted professors who only gave high marks. It didn't feel as if they were doing their job."

Appeased enough for a bit of swottiness, she changed tack. "I still don't think you should be allowed in the Wizengamot until we're done with the Statute overhaul. Everything you know about Muggles, you learned precisely the wrong way."

He'd bitten his tongue then, metaphorically, and bit the inside of his lower lip in reality. "You're right, Granger. I know Muggle relations like a felon knows the law. But that isn't nothing, is it?"

She'd given him a trite hum, and, over the last decade, Draco had decided the expression meant she'd been hoping for a fight and didn't get it. Nowadays, she saves that huffy hum for the golf course, on days when the weather is too perfect, and par comes too easily, and everyone stands back and lets her play through.

Draco sighs, his cheek on Harry's thigh. He presses his lips to Harry's jeans. Sometimes, evenings like this end with Draco asleep between Harry's knees, just like that first time. Other nights, they're punctuated with an idle, lazy blowjob that's mostly lips and leads to Harry coming about half the times, and yawning and suggesting Chinese for dinner the other half. Draco is happy either way.

But tonight, he's going to fall asleep against Harry's leg before anything else can happen.

A week later, he's on the golf course with Granger and two senior Mugwumps who've been delaying the vote on Squib inheritance rights reform for three sessions now. Draco is there because the 'Malfoy' in his last name appeals to one Mugwump, and the '-Potter" appeals to the other. It doesn't hurt that he can carry two golf bags.

Draco leans against a shade tree and watches Granger tee up, both in their conversation and with her ball. The two elder statesmen respectfully go quiet while she lines up to swing, then whips her driver like a mace.

Both men are silent as they watch the ball arc through the sky. She takes the opportunity to restart, restate, and redirect the conversation while the next man tees up.

Silently, while the three of them watch another shot, Draco pulls a shiny new ladies' putter from his bag and slides it into Granger's. He rustles the clubs to settle them evenly in her bag. She probably won't notice for quite a while. When she's looking for her usual putter, she won't even register the existence of other clubs.

Dutifully, he scoops up both their bags and follows them.

He didn't put a note on the putter, just a red ribbon bow on the grip, which is hidden inside the bag. She may or may not know Draco gave it to her. And if she does, she won't ask why, because they've both learned that wounds that are already healing don't do well if reopened.

A gust of wind catches the brim of his hat, and he fumbles a set of clubs while catching it. His own clubs slide out onto the ground, but it's better than chasing his hat.

As he's picking them up, someone in a golf cart honks their obnoxious little robot horn at him. He's shoving his clubs into his bag, and he glances up to find a black and chrome golf cart with some Danish logo on the hood, and it's headed straight down the centre of the path toward him.

There's only one arrogant prat who drives a cart like that. Or, more accurately, who gets driven in a cart like that. Finch-Fletchley. The Muggle-prince-turned-wizard-pauper-turned-smarmy-solicitor, who was famous for introducing the magical world to the concept of fraudulent class action lawsuits.

The driver honked again, a sound more suited to a child's toy than a motor vehicle, but Draco stepped to the side and let them pass. He set down Hermione's bag and raised an arm at the elbow for a perfect parade wave.

In passing, Justin flashed him a mouth full of veneers without making eye contact.

Quick as lightning, as the cart goes by, and Justin isn't looking, Draco reaches out and snatches a club. His instincts see a silver Snitch, and in a split-second, he holds one of Justin Finch-Fletchley's golf clubs in his hand.

His fingers unfurl to reveal a shiny new driver, engraved and lacquered in reds and oranges. A Honma driver. He flips it over and wraps his hand around the grip. Very nice. At minimum, a £15,000 club. Appalling.

After a short wait, Justin's cart goes round the curve. Draco sets the other bag down, then squares his shoulders, centring them up with the nearest water hazard. It's a small pond, about ten metres away.

Without a second thought, he hefts the driver onto his shoulder like a javelin, gets a three-step running start, and flings it into the water. It hits the surface with a wet slap, briefly sends the grip up as a flag, then sinks like a periscope.

Much better.

Draco scratches his head, readjusts his hat, and picks up his bags.

[imabee-oralizard]

Dude I hate my mom

like I’m almost having a panic attack and she can’t even tell(or doesn’t care) and then everything she’s doing is making it worst

Like today our friends from Texas was coming down to stay at our apartment for a couple days cause we haven’t moved in. And if anyone remembered me past ranting this is the mom to the family where I tried to help and messed it up and now her daughters don’t talk to me. Well the mom and her friend came to stay here and the friend has a dog. And the whole day I’ve been worried that secretly the mom is annoyed at me for texting the daughter last year. And then the dog had fleas and one jumped on me. And for reference we had fleas before bad and got rid of them them during quarantine k got lice like 4-5 times and now I’m super paranoid about lice and fleas. And I told my mo l so she gave the dog a bath. And we were driving home then once we got home we dusted ourselves off as best we could. On the way home I found a flea on me so I killed it and threw it out the window. I told my mom I wanted to go in and take a shower right away, instead of getting the dogs from my brother. I texted me brother not to let them out. And then my mom told him it was fine while I was getting my Saturday ready to shower so then the dogs were by us. Then I realized I forgot her room key in the car and she’s taking forever to get upstairs then she has to brush her hair and put on deoterant cause she’s doing a delivery job soon. And as she’s taking forever I’m on the verge of a panic attack. Literally tears are coming out of my eyes and I’m trying to hide it. And she’s like okay no need for an attitude. And not seeming to care about the fleas. And this whole time I was worried cause we didn’t get home till 2am and I still had to take my medicine that helps with my headaches (also an anti-depressant)

And tomorrow I think we are going back to the apartment to go swimming. I wanna hang out with the family friend but I also hate swimming cause haha body issues plus now the fleas and my mom doesn’t seem to have gotten the hint at all even thought I feel I was being obvious about me like freaking out and on the verge of a breakdown

[dougdimmadodo]

Human Louse (Pediculus humanus)

Family: Human Louse Family (Pediculidae)

IUCN Conservation Status: Unassessed

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The Human Louse is a tiny (2-4mm long), wingless, parasitic insect that lives exclusively on the bodies of humans, and can be found almost everywhere that humans live. Two distinct subspecies exist, differentiated by where on a human they live: the Head Louse (Pediculus humanus capitis) lives, feeds and breeds on the scalp, while the Body Louse (Pediculus humanus humanus) lives and breeds inside clothing, and only moves onto its host’s body to feed. It feeds exclusively on human blood (which provides it with both the nutrients needed to live and the protein required to produce eggs) and must feed frequently to survive - if separated from a host and unable to feed a Human Louse will starve in 1-2 days. Human Lice are very short-lived (with a typical lifespan of around 30 days), but develop and reproduce at an astounding rate - their eggs hatch within 6-7 days of being laid, they reach full maturity at only around 10 days old, and after mating just once an adult female (which can be distinguished from males thanks to their slightly larger size) can lay 4-8 eggs every day for the rest of her life. Head Lice lay their eggs on strands of hair, while Body Lice lay their eggs on the fibers that make up clothing. Although they can cause itching and mild irritation, Human Lice are not dangerous and are not believed to spread disease, though if allowed to build up in large enough numbers they may cause some damage to the scalp and hair follicles. As they cannot fly like mosquitoes or jump like fleas, Human Lice spread between hosts as a result of direct contact with hair or clothing that they are already inhabiting. Although Human Lice (particularly Head Lice) are often though to be a sign of poor personal hygiene, there is no known link between personal hygiene and susceptibility to lice infestation - there is even evidence suggesting that Head Lice may prefer cleaner hair. 

Extra Fun Fact: It is thought that the Human Louse has existed for almost as long as humans have, with the species likely being descended from lice that inhabited the bodies of the ancestors of our species. Fittingly, the closest living relative of the Human Louse, the Chimpanzee Louse (Pediculus schaeffi) lives only on the bodies of the closest living relatives of humans, Bonobos and Common Chimpanzees.

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Image Source: https://www.inaturalist.org/taxa/321532-Pediculus-humanus