#now back to bed and trying to sleep off this neverending headache

[strigital]

there happened to be an anomalously quiet evening not so long ago, so i spent my time by the self check-outs productively and whipped out some Damie

(will try to fix the contrast later idk)

click for non-butchered quality

[sohin-ace]

Abbachio - Hangover

You walked inside the headquarters that you titled your home.

It was half past 3 A.M and you knew fair well everybody in the team was staying here for the night, and were most likely sleeping soundly like babies at this hour.

And so, with velvety steps and calculated slow movements, you entered the porch and quietly closed the door, moving in the dark as silently as possible.

You had just finished a tiring mission and the one thing you desired most at the moment was to crash into bed, maybe marry it since you were at it, barely thinking about the sticky blood, sweat and dried river water that stained you during your mission.

You huffed and kicked your shoes off, liberating your aching and swollen feet from them, directing yourself towards the kitchen to fetch some well-deserved water that your throat was oh-so desperately screaming for.

You were shocked to find the room lit at this hour. Your first thought was that Bruno was probably still awake and having a small break from his neverending pile of work.

Your expression completely fell, however, upon seeing that Bruno was not the one occupying the kitchen but someone else, greeting you with a heart breaking sight.

"... Leone?"

The male was slumped over the table, his head buried in his arms with one hand holding onto a spilling wine bottle, burgundy liquid running everywhere onto the wooden surface, the floor, and onto the male's clothes. Even some strands of his splayed out hair drank up the alcohol, dying them from silver to violet.

You gasped at the mess but was even more shocked by the implications behind said mess. He didn't even bother taking a glass, prefering downing the wine directly from the bottle. He wasn't planning on holding back tonight and it alarmed you.

You knew of Abbachio's tendency of alchoholism, but he was never so drunk as to black out this way and you weren't sure he would even be able to work tomorrow, or do anything else, for that matter.

"Leone..." You slowly approached his hunched over form and gently shook him. "Caro, wake up."

No response.

With you being all alone in the middle of the night, there weren't much you could do. But there were no way you'd ever leave him in this state.

Shaken with worry, you only did what your heart told you and moved the bottle away from his grip. It was almost empty at this point anyway.

You brushed his long hair to the side to let some fresh air cool his face down while you cleaned and mopped the tiled floor and table. Oh you'd make sure to lecture him about that later.

You thought about him, sitting next to you as you cleaned up. How tormented he was and how, just like the wine bottle, he spilled himself out in secrecy.

You bit back your tears. He was so alone. Tortured. It hurt you that your Leone, whom you loved so much, had to go through a trauma you could never heal for him. Or even soothed in the slightest. You were grateful that he even remotely accepted your affection, but still.

It wasn't enough, for you.

"I wish I could help you, Leone..." You murmured and caressed his soft hair, revealing more of his peaceful face, his smeared makeup not tainting any of his beauty.

Your heart clenched, he looked so calm, so sweet. How did he manage to make grief look so gentle, you would never know. You almost didn't want to move him and disturb him, but you had to.

Carefully holding his shoulders, you pulled him up, his weight much heavier than you'd have expected, even thought it should be no surprise. Abbachio was a burly man.

You craddled his head and placed him in a proper up-sitting position and he groaned.

"Uugh... Hhmmm..."

"Leone, wake up, love." You still held his face against your chest and patted his cheek to wake him, scared that he'd sway and tumble over if you let go of him. "You gotta go to bed. Come on."

"Hmmm.... Sssuuuree...." He mumbled, words slurred.

He was surprisingly compliant, you thought. When you were certain he could hold his own head up, you let go and grabbed his wrist, still drenched in wine.

You hooked his arm around your shoulders and wrapped your own around his torso. He made the effort to stay in balance while you hoisted him up to his feet, not without struggle and effort on your part.

You stumbled a bit, but managed to get him up, at least, holding onto him for dear life as you maneuvered his much heavier body around the kitchen.

He counted on you for support and was close to falling sleeping on you as he snored against your hair, the stench of alcohol reaching your nostrils. Man, why did he have to be the heaviest male of the group?

You brushed your exhaustion from the preceeding mission to the side and dedicated yourself to helping Leone. Rest could wait.

Thanks to the help of your Stand, you ended the course safely back to his room and opened the door, having more hands to do so.

You let him down to sit onto his bed as gently as you could and you felt he was about collapse again.

You instantly wrapped your arms around his shoulders and let him slump over your chest.

"Woa- Don't lay down just yet! I need to get your clothes off."

He only purred some low nonsense, as if to show his annoyance to you. Well, maybe he desperately wanted to sleep, but so did you.

"Don't 'brrr' at me, boy. You're the one who spilled wine all over your pants and top!" You scolded to deaf, or rather drunk ears. Not like he was listening to you, but still.

Huffing a bit, you took hold of the lace on his top and untied it, letting you slide the rest off his broad shoulders and back. It was much easier to slip the sleeves off afterwards, and you were almost proud of yourself.

"I'm gonna be such a good mom." You joked to yourself as you caringly held onto Leone's warm back and head to gently place him down on his bed before taking his shoes and pants off.

Once this was done and not without a pause to catch your breath, you went to the bathroom to grab a towel, dampening it in warm water before you came back to him and sat by his side. He had already fallen fast asleep, and was looking awfully adorable, if you were honest.

" 'Clumsy brat'," You chuckled with a whisper as you wiped the wine off his skin and the sweat and tears off his neck and chest. "That's what you always called me. Ironic."

You looked fondly over at him as you finished your self-assigned task, closing off by wiping his left hand. You thought over your options.

Maybe it was the fatigue blurring your moral code. Or maybe you were just blinded by this crazy thing called love. Perhaps he was just an enticing wizard who cast a spell on you with his lips. Whatever it was, you foolishly decided you would kiss him after you removed his make up, and so you did.

You gently removed what remained of his make up that wasn't washed out by the crying and the drinking. You sighed at your good job and leaned over, running your fingers delicately over his skin.

"This is probably wrong." You hesitated, questioning your choices, yet feeling brave. "But I think I can at least have that, right...? Pardon me for this, Leone."

You closed the distance between you both to press your lips ever-so-sweetly on his own, wanting to linger, but not quite feeling deserving enough either. It was short-lived but precious and tingly. You felt your heart flutter and you swore you also felt his hand twitch slightly next to you.

You sighed. You yearned for more. You wished you could just collapse and fall asleep by him. Your responsibilities thankfully got the best of you.

"I love you. Please love yourself too, we all want to see you better. I know I do. Depend on me sometimes too, okay?" You breathed out to him, secretely hoping he heard you in his dreams and maybe accepted your selfish and heartfelt request.

You were tired. You needed to sleep and you were afraid you'd act more and more foolishly if you stayed with him any longer.

You reluctantly leaned away from him and got up, making sure to tuck him in thoroughly inside the blankets before you left.

You'd leave a note to Bruno to not wake him up in the morning.

When Abbachio woke up in the morning, much later than he usually did, he was disappointed, yet not surprised to be struck with a splitting headache.

"Fuck..." He groaned, holding his heavy head in his hands, "Not again..."

He inhaled deeply only to realise he was strangely met by a sweet familiar scent mixed with the stinging wine he drowned himself in.

Out of doubt, he looked over the bedside table and found a water bottle and some aspirin as well as a small note.

He grabbed the note and squinted at it, trying to read it with his still hazy eyes.

'Water helps with hangover headaches. Tablets too, obviously :P . Take it easy, Bruno gave you the day off.'

Was that you? That was most definitely you, he thought. And that fruity scent on his face and hands must be you too. There were no doubt now.

It didn't take him long to put two and two together. He would have been much quicker-witted if he wasn't so hungover. He remembered you had a mission last night, you probably went home by then and helped him to bed out of sheer empathy, sweet as you were.

Abbachio sighed and rubbed his face. He was both ashamed and extremely grateful towards you. It must have been so draining to come take care of him after you risked your life out there.

God he felt like shit. Again, he was being a burden on the people he loved, all because of his selfish choices. But knowing you, you'd probably hate him thinking that of himself, and tell him you were fine with it and happy to help. You had such a kind heart.

"... How did she even get me upstairs...? This tiny dwarf."

He groaned and sat up, smoothing his fingers over his lips. He blushed at his own thoughts. He swore he dreamt of you kissing him as he was asleep, and the feeling was still pretty vivid.

But he couldn't be sure. Drunken dreams were weird sometimes.

Thinking of making it up to you, he took the medicine and downed it with water, his mind filled with thoughts of you only.

He deserved at least that.

[yoongiboongipoongi]

dance the night away

warnings: unprotected sex (theres no indication of protection), drunk sex, size kink?, cursing, manhandling i guess, lowercase intended

pairing: dom!jongho x reader

requested:

“Hiiii authornim. Hope you're having a fun day. May I please request for a smut? Dom!Jongho wherein you saw each other at a dance class in Korea. After the class, all the participants went out to drink including Jongho himself. And well that's where they *dance* the night away 😝”

im sososososososososososo sorry for this being suppperrrr late. i took a break because of mental health and im really sorry for leaving everyone waiting.

“okay, that’s it for today! good job everyone, especially y/n,” the dance teacher winked at you and smiled, and you grinned at her. everyone bowed at her and she left the room leaving everyone else in the dance practice room. “guys! should we go for a drink today?” himchan shouted. he was usually the crazy and loud type of person that loved going to clubs to get drunk. he was a pretty nice guy, but you hated him for some reason. sometimes you couldn’t tell if he was trying to be nice to you, or flirt with you. it just made you uncomfortable. everyone in the room cheered in agreement. you were one of the younger kids in the room and you felt it would be rude to decline, so you just said yes. you went to the bathroom to change your outfit and the group went out to a club to get drunk. you picked at the plates of food, annoyed at how loud himchan was being. he sat right by you, and he would keep bumping into your shoulder. you licked the sauce off your chopsticks before looking up at the man in front of you, choi jongho.

you two were quite close, you didn’t interact a lot during dance class but you partnered with each other a few times and talked a lot outside of class. the music was loud and himchan was loudly shouting, probably flirting with girls. so you got closer to him before speaking,

“you’re not going to go out?” by out, you meant to the dance floor, where everyone was now.

he shrugged, chugging down another drink. you took that as a no, and decided to go out yourself.

you weren’t usually the type to go to clubs and party, but you were drunk as fuck, you couldn’t care less. you danced around and sang the lyrics to the song, living your best life.

—

you don’t know how you got to this point, everything from the point you started dancing to now was kind of blurred.

but now you were stuffed in the corner of the bathroom hallways at the club. you’re not exactly sure how long you’ve been here, but that doesn’t matter right now. what matters is that you’re on jongho’s lap, basically sucking each other’s faces off.

you were suddenly dragged here by jongho and it led up to this. you weren’t sure why but you weren’t against it at all. nothing was better than straddling his delicious thighs and strong arms wrapped around your waist. you rocked your hips against his hard erection, holding strong eye contact with jongho. you couldn’t care less about the people walking past, they were probably just as drunk as you anyways. panting, he grabbed you and pulled you up, guiding you outside of the club and right into a taxi.

he bounced his leg in impatience. he kept a strong grip on your plush thighs, massaging them dangerously close to your area. the taxi arrived at jongho’s apartment, which was one the 2nd floor of the building. the elevator was closed, so he resorted to the stairs. you were struggling to even walk in a straight line, so going up the stairs would be a struggle for you. he took this into consideration and just decided to pick you up, making you let out a slight yelp of surprise. you wrapped your arms around his neck, biting your lip in excitement. he easily skipped up the stairs while securely holding you.

once you two entered the fairly spacious apartment, he put you down and impatiently connected his lips to yours. he roughly kissed you while guiding you to his bedroom. both of your hands were traveling all around each other’s bodies.

your shorts were already off, his hands were fondling roughly with your ass, making you moan in satisfaction. you felt the coldness of his rings.

“fuck, i’ve been waiting for this moment,” he sighed as he rested his forehead against yours, removing the rest of his clothing.

“i can’t wait to ruin you,”

his lips then went to your neck, planting tender kisses, making you sigh in bliss.

“fuck, i need you so bad,” you bit your lip in desperation, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“you want it?”

“yes please give it to me,” you begged, rubbing your leg against his hard erection showing in his briefs. he cursed harshly and pulled down his briefs, stroking his hard cock. you licked your lips in anticipation.

he took his fingers and inserted them into your dripping heat, you yelped as you felt the cold touch of his metal rings reaching your heat.

“this feels so much better than using my own fingers,” you thought in your head.

he removed his fingers after a bit, making you whine in disappointment. you were about to hit your climax. but you were quickly cut off of your disappointment when he began entering you. his thick cock stretched your walls, making you whimper.

it took some time to get used to his girth. you moaned in pleasure as his dick hit the right spots. he manhandled your smaller body, folding your flexible body to put your legs over your head (basically folded like a flip phone). he kept up with his strong quick thrusts, his strong thighs never got tired. he tried a variety of different positions with you, like holding you up against the wall with you legs around his waist, or taking you doggy style at the edge of the bed while he held your legs up by his thighs. his stamina and strength was neverending, making you feel like absolute jelly.

your legs were weak, your body was covered in a light layer of sweat, and your hair was all crazy from jongho pulling it back while roughly thrusting his big cock.

he turned on the AC for you before cuddling up by your side. the two of you would probably wake up with headaches, but he has medicine prepared just in case.

“ugh, i feel so sticky,” you groaned.

“from how well i fucked you?” he smiled mischievously from behind your shoulder, hands grasping your waist. you nodded in agreement.

“fuck, i’m hard again,” you groaned but with a smile on your face.

“we’re never going to sleep, are we?”

“nope, sorry baby. now get on all fours like a good girl, i’ll make it quick” he kissed your shoulder and smacking your ass.

[sickficsies-and-whumpsies]

Hello! may I ask sick kawanishi taichi? because it's actually hard to find his version :"D. He gets his hay fever acting up in class all day and causes a fever and headache. Shirabu take care of him since they're classmates and he looks horrible. Thank you!

Hello!! Now that I think about it, I've never even read Kawanishi content, poor guy. I hope this is similar to what you had in mind~

TW: headache, hay fever, coughing & sneezing.

1.1k words, Gen.

ーーー

The voice of his Chemistry teacher blabbering about the TCA cycle almost lulls him to sleep. His head rests propped up on his hands, elbow on the hard, uncomfortable desk as he blinks, trying to make out whatever's being written on the blackboard. Kawanishi has only taken notes for the first ten minutes of the lecture, before entirely giving up.

His head has been pounding without giving him a break since the previous night, and out of the usual seven hours of sleep he normally gets, he's sure he hasn't actually slept for more than three. Not well, either.

Kawanishi slowly moves his hands to the sides of his head, palms flat on his ears that ache and throb. He hisses under his breath, sniffling, eyes watery.

The room keeps spinning, and his eyelids feel heavy and sore. The ache in his head, ears and chest drowns out everything else.

He doesn't even notice how Shirabu's staring at him from his desk. The setter eyes his friend carefully, and rapidly notices his puffy eyes and his cloth tissue crumpled and indubitably damp with snot.

He returns his attention to the lesson, but not long passes before he's startled by a stifled cough coming from the back of the classroom. Most of his classmates, and even the teacher, only glance at the source of the noise for a split second before going on with their duties.

Yet, Shirabu can't pry his gaze from Kawanishi, who looks more and more in agony with each passing instant. Although he isn't familiar with allergies himself, it's not hard to identify the symptoms.

Headache, runny nose, cough, and tiredness, from the looks of it. He doesn't envy him one bit.

Shirabu recalls that Kawanishi has mentioned being on antihistamine medications, but it doesn't seem that the boy has taken them before coming to school.

"Shirabu-kun!?" 

He startles, snappung around to meet his teacher's annoyed gaze. "Perhaps you should focus on the lesson. I know you can get good grades, however I believe you might learn something from this, too."

The boy nods, bowing his head slightly, cheeks tinged in red. "Y-yes sir, sorry sir!!"

Someone snickers, yet Shirabu pays no mind to anyone but Kawanishi, who's still sniffling and struggling to hold his cough.

As soon as the bell rings, marking the end of those neverending fifty minutes, Shirabu is quick to catapult himself to his friend's desk, crocuhing next to it.

Kawanishi, whose head now lays above his arms, that work as a makeshift pillow, slowly tilts his gaze towards Shirabu, cocking an eyebrow in confusion.

"Kenjirou? What're you...?"

"Did you take your meds today? The antihistamine ones." he asks, pragmatic as always. "You know your hay fever's bad, so why didn't you?"

Kawanishi looks like he's about to say something, but a wet cough cuts him off abruptly. Shirabu timidly reaches out with his hand, rubbing soothing circles on his friend's trembling back while he coughs and sputters helplessly.

The middle-blocker reaches for his water bottle with the hand that isn't pressed against his mouth, and shakes his head, regretting the action as it throbs harder.

"Why not? Did you run out?"

"C-couldn't." Kawanishi replies once the coughing fit comes to an end, "Test later. Meds make me sleepy." 

Shirabu sighs. Right, they have an English test coming up in the fifth period, he'd momentarily forgotten about it.

"Still..." he fumbles for words, "Your health is more important than a test. You look like you can't breathe."

"Th-that's because it's true." Kawanishi coughs, cheeky. Shirabu lets his shoulders sag, just a bit.

"Listen, I'll make you a deal. We still have a bit more than four hours until the test, so how about you take the meds, rest in the infirmary and come back for it later, if you're up to it?"

"W-what aboutー" a sneeze, then another, then a cough, and a groan. "M-my head, fuck..."

Shirabu doesn't even wait for his friend's final answer. He turns to a classmate, explaining the situation and asking her to warn the teacher. Then, he starts to rummage insise Kawanishi's bag, retrieving the meds, and his bottle.

"Let's go, Taichi." he calls, gentle. 

His friend slowly stands, chair screeching against the linoleum, but as soon as he's up, he sways. A hand immediately shoots for the desk, grip tight to steady himself.

Shirabu's got his other arm, a concerned look in his honey eyes.

"You good? Do you need to sit back down?"

"N-no, no, m'fine, just tired." Kawanishi hums, straightening himself. Shirabu still doesn't let go, and the two of them make their way towards the nurse's office.

The walk is painfully slow, Shirabu being forced to stop dragging Kawanishi more than once as the latter doubles over and coughs, or sneezes, or moans in agony.

"You should've stayed in bed."

"You sh-should've let a professional cut your hair."

Shirabu snorts. The fact that Kawanishi's well enough to joke around is a huge relief. Luckily, the infirmary isn't far, and the nurse is kind and quick as he allows them in, instructing Kawanishi to take off his shoes and to loosen his tie before he shows him a free bed.

Shirabu and the nurse exchange a few words, and soon the setter joins Kawanishi, handing him a pill and his water bottle. 

"Here. I told the nurse about your hay fever, but he's said he will have to check your temperature and blood pressure anyway, for safe measure. I'll be back in three hours, to see how you're doing."

Kawanishi swallows the pill. He then turns to face Shirabu, "Thanks, man. Sorry for the h- ha- the hassー" a forceful sneeze cuts him off. 

"It was no hassle. Now rest." he says, offering a kind smile before he leaves the office, Kawanishi fast asleep.

ー ー ー

Shirabu doesn't visit him three hours later. Instead, Kawanishi blinks his eyes open to the warm, tangerine sunlight filtering through the infirmary shutters, and only then he sees his friend walking towards him, his own and Kawanishi's school bags and duffel bags thrown over his shoulders.

"Oh, you're up." he chirps.

Kawanishi frowns, face hurting. "What time s'it?"

"Oh, like, 6:30PM? I let you sleep in, since the nurse said you needed to rest more. Ah, the teacher said that you can take the test once you're well, it's no problem for her." Shirabu says, nonchalantly. "I know you're mad at me for tricking you, so I'm treating you to sukiyaki."

"You think food can solve this?"

"Can't it, though?" Shirabu grins.

Kawanishi's stern expression sobers up a second later. "...I get to pick the place. And I want ice-cream later, my throat hurts."

ー ー ー

Let me know how I did with this one!! And, anon, if you have an AO3 please let me know, so that I can gift this fic to you next week!!

(August 25, 2021)

[iwritesickfic]

"i kinda have a crush"

synopsis: Henry has a crush on his roommate's best friend Tom. When he gets sick, he's not sure whether Tom's concern means he feels the same.

Henry doesn't have time for a cold. Especially not now. Finals start next week, and between studying for exams, finishing final projects, and going to class, pretty much all his time is going to be occupied. Today, he woke up with a headache and a sore throat, which he's trying to convince himself is just a product of poor sleep, but deep down he knows is just the beginning of something worse to come.

Now, he's in his room, wrapped in his comforter and highlighting passages in his bio textbook, hearing his roommate Sam and his loud friends watching something equally loud in the living room. It's useless trying to ask them to quiet down - he learned after the sixth or seventh time asking that even though they all seem accommodating, they forget pretty quickly. Normally he'd be able to tune them out, but his steadily worsening headache is making it near impossible.

He gets up and starts pulling on clothes - the walk to the library may be freezing, but at least he'll get some quiet. Leaving his room, he's aware of how pissed off he must look, but he doesn't care enough to feign politeness to Sam and his friends.

He heads to the kitchen and grabs his travel mug - he's going to need coffee if he's going to last at the library. He's just filling it up when he hears a voice behind him.

"Hey! Henry! I didn't know you were home!" It's Tom. He's probably Sam's best friend - at the very least, he's the friend who's over more than anyone else. Henry suppresses a sigh. Tom is the exact kind of guy he doesn't like. Bro-y, athletic, always overly friendly to everyone - it just comes off as phony. It also just so happens that guys like this are always very attractive, and Tom is no exception. He turns around to grab milk from the fridge.

"Hey," he says, trying not to sound as annoyed as he feels.

"If I knew you were here I would've been a little quieter - you have finals coming up too, right?" Tom asks, leaning against the door frame in that way he always does.

"Mmhmm. It's fine. I'm going to the library." Talking to Tom is not helping the throbbing in his head. He starts to add the sugar and milk to his coffee.

"Are you sure? I can ask the guys to quiet down."

"No, it's fine." He snaps the cover onto his coffee and starts toward the door.

"Alright, well have a good day!"

"Thanks, you too." When he closes the front door he sighs, rubbing his eyes. He starts down the stairs. Being around people like that is exhausting on a normal day - Henry's always been quiet. Reserved. With the beginnings of a cold it's almost aggravating.

The frigid air outside makes his throat burn and his eyes water. His nose starts to run too, and he hopes it's just the temperature and not a new symptom. Knowing his luck he's going to be the one annoying person in the library constantly sniffling.

His time at the library is mostly uneventful, apart from going through a pack of travel tissues and getting dirty looks from other students. By the time they're ready to close, he feels significantly worse than he did this morning, but he's finished his biology review and is almost done with a paper for Transformative Design.

The trudge home feels like it takes forever - it's only about a 15 minute walk, but between the cold and feeling like crap it seems neverending. He can hear from the hallway outside the apartment that Sam's friends are still here, which makes him want to tear his hair out.

It's almost midnight when they leave, so it's only about that time he can get to sleep. He has class the next morning at 8, and when he wakes up with his alarm, he knows he's in for a full blown cold. His head still aches, and his sinuses feel sore and swollen. His throat kills too, and he feels shivery, despite the heavy comforter.

He lets himself lie in bed for a while, sniffling and trying to absorb as much warmth as he can from the comforter, before he drags himself up. He immediately pulls on his warmest sweater, even though he's just going to the bathroom. It doesn't help the shivering much, but it's something. He probably looks ridiculous, in just a pair of boxers and his oversized sweater, but he feels so shitty he doesn't really care.

Walking by the couch, he sees Tom asleep, shirtless. His heart flutters - he knew Tom was fit but it was something else to see it. The butterflies are almost annoying. There a million guys on campus, why does he have to get so worked up over this one?

In the shower, he cranks up the heat and lets the steam ease the aching in his sinuses. He's in there for too long, but the thought of having to actually walk to class in the cold makes him reluctant to get out.

He arrives to class a few minutes late - nose still dripping from the cold. Luckily today is just a lecture, but it's a five hour class, and he didn't have time to make any coffee this morning. He brought another little travel pack of tissues, but he's definitely going to have to ration them.

He's still shivering. It's worse after being out in the cold, and even though it should get better over time, nothing changes. He just sits there, achy and shivering and congested and miserable until 10:30, when the professor calls for a 10 minute break. Thank god. He needs coffee. There's a small shop in the building, so he forces himself up and out of his seat - which leads to a few seconds of particularly bad throbbing in his head - and out into the hall.

He almost groans when he sees who's working. Tom. Of course he's been to this little coffee spot a million times and he knows it's where Tom works, but he didn't think he'd have to see him this morning. Part of him is annoyed - he definitely does not have the energy to deal with him at the moment - but another part is a little embarrassed at how awful he must look. Not that he should care what Tom thinks of him, he reminds himself. Regardless, he walks up the counter, half occupied rubbing at his nose with a tissue.

"Hey," he says, and is surprised how congested he sounds. Tom turns, eyes lighting up.

"Hey!" He dims a little when he takes in his full appearance. "You ok?" Henry sniffles.

"Yeah. Fine. Can I get-"

"Large hot coffee, oat milk and sugar, right?" Henry's taken aback.

"Uh, yeah. You know my order?"

"Of course. It's an easy order." He goes about starting to make the drink. "Hope we didn't keep you up last night. I kept telling Sam to shut the fuck up but he doesn't listen to me."

"It's fine. I'm used to it." He sniffles again.

"You sound like you're coming down with something."

"And you sound like my mom." That makes Tom laugh, and again, Henry feels a stirring in his chest. Tom puts the lid on the drink and hands it to him, and Henry tries to hand him the money. Tom shakes his head.

"That's ok - on the house." That draws a little smile out of Henry. Tom smiles back, and for a minute he forgets how shitty he feels. "I hope you feel better."

"Thanks."

He heads back to class and sits down, taking a sip of the coffee. It tastes great, as always when Tom makes it, and the warmth helps to ease the chills at least somewhat. The rest of the lecture is spent half paying attention, and half worrying his sniffling and nose blowing is annoying. When it's finally over, he wants nothing more than to just go home and take a nap, but he has a problem set for calculus due tomorrow that he hasn't even started. So, reluctantly, he makes the trek to the library. He's able to work for most of the day uninterrupted - he's not very hungry, which maybe should be concerning but is convenient nonetheless.

By the time he's done, it's already dark out, and the walk home is brutal. The wind is whipping, and his scarf and hat aren't doing much to keep the cold out. His nose is running like a faucet and the cough he developed over the course of the day drags the cold air even further into his lungs. The coughs hurt, like they come from somewhere deep in his chest, and by the time he gets home his throat is destroyed.

When he gets home, he's glad to see Sam isn't making a racket for once. Still, he knows he's in for a restless night anyway. He puts a can of soup on the stove to heat up while he changes into sweatpants and a hoodie. His reflection in the mirror is definitely a sight - he's flushed from the cold, his hair a mess, and his eyes red rimmed.

He knows he should really fit in some more studying before he calls it a night, but after he picks at his soup and does the dishes, he's ready to fall over, so he just curls up in bed, coughing and shivery, and goes to sleep.

He wakes up a few times in the night coughing, and the soreness in his throat makes his eyes water. He's barely able to drag himself out of bed the next morning. His shivers have become more like shakes, and his cough feels like it never stops. He got a decent amount of sleep, but he still feels totally exhausted - even his muscles are sore.

His classes are a blur - he's too preoccupied with feeling awful to focus, and by the time he's done at 6, all he wants to do is go home and sleep until tomorrow morning. But, he knows he has to get at least one assignment done. After tomorrow, he'll have the whole weekend to relax. Not totally, but still.

Just the assignment tonight, classes tomorrow, then he can finally get some rest. The library probably isn't a good choice - his cough is too distracting, and he knows the walk home later will be torture. So instead, he goes back to the apartment. The cold air always exacerbates the cough, so the whole way home he's hacking, his nose running like a faucet. His ribs have started to hurt from all the coughing.

He almost wants to cry when he gets home and hears the sound of Sam and his friends in the living room. Why tonight of all nights? He trudges into his bedroom and changes - he's started to feel warm, which is a relief after feeling so cold all the time, but now it's becoming a both too warm and too cold feeling, so he tugs on his sweater and a fresh pair of boxers.

He starts to work on the physics problem set - there are only three problems total, but each of them usually take an hour at least, and that's when he's not feeling like death. He works for a while, but it's only when he starts to feel lightheaded he realizes he hasn't eaten yet today.

So, he heads into the kitchen and rummages around for a can of chicken noodle. He finds it, but he's too weak and shaky to work the can open right. He tries for a good three minutes before he feels a lump form in his throat.

"Hey, do you want some help with that?" He turns to see Tom standing in the doorway. Self consciously, he sniffles and clears his throat.

"Uh, y-yeah, that would be great." Tom smiles softly and walks over, making quick work of the can. Henry expects him to just go back into the living room, but he grabs the pot from the cabinet and turns on the stove.

"You've got quite a cough there." Henry feels himself blush. They all must be able to hear him from his room.

“Sorry, I-”

“Hey, no, no don’t be sorry. We make enough noise, you’re allowed to be sick.” He pours the soup into the pot and starts to grab spices from the shelf.

“I’m not sick.” Henry isn’t sure why he’s being so defensive, but Tom doesn’t challenge him, just smirks.

“Well whatever it is, it sounds brutal.” He shakes a few of the spices into the soup, stirring slowly.

“I’m ok. Really.” There’s a bit of an awkward silence before someone calls Tom from the other room. He looks a little dismayed, but puts on a smile.

“Feel better, ok?” He rests his arm on Henry’s upper arm, giving him a soft smile, before heading back into the living room. And there’s that fluttering in his chest again.

On his way back to his room, he catches a bit of a conversation.

“I think we should go out.” That’s Tom’s voice.

“Nah dude, it’s freezing.” That’s Sam.

“C’mon, let’s go. It’ll be fine.”

“Alright, whatever.”

Henry smiles to himself. Maybe it’s reaching to think Tom did that specifically for him, but part of him really hopes he did.

The rest of the night is blissfully quiet, apart from his incessant cough. By the time he’s finished with the last problem, it’s midnight, and the world is swimming. He’s never been happier to lie down. But, it’s short lived. Despite being exhausted, his cough and what he suspects is a fever are making it all but impossible to sleep. He drifts in and out of half-sleep, sometimes too hot, sometimes too cold. Luckily his class isn’t until the afternoon, but he spends the whole morning much like the night before. When he finally gets up, he feels truly ready to fall over. His headache is horrendous, throbbing and pounding at the slightest provocation. His sinuses are still swollen, along with his poor throat that makes him wince with every swallow. The cough is the same if not a little worse, except now it sends cramping pain through his ribs.

On the walk to class, he just keeps repeating the same idea in his head. Just three hours, then you can rest. The class is truly a blur, but the walk home is too unpleasant to tune out. Once again, the freezing temperature isn’t any help, and forcing his aching body to walk through the snow gets harder with every step.

He turns the corner for the front door of his building, and a wave of relief washes over him. But, he’s confused when he sees someone standing near the buzzer. He’s even more confused when he realizes it’s Tom.

“Hey, uh, Sam isn’t here. He’s gone for the weekend.” He says, embarrassed at how thready and weak his voice sounds. Tom turns, looking confused.

“Why are you out here? It’s freezing.” He says, and Henry isn’t sure whether it’s the fever that’s keeping him from putting the dots together or this just doesn’t make sense.

“Sam isn’t upstairs,” he repeats, and Tom sighs gently.

“I’m not here to see Sam.” It still isn’t clicking. “C’mon, let’s go inside.”

“Ok…” He unlocks the door and clumsily shakes the snow off his boots before getting into the elevator. Tom follows, and Henry figures someone else must be in the building that Tom wants to see, but Tom follows him right to the door. Henry sighs and rubs his eyes. “Tom, what do you want?”

For the first time, it looks like Tom might actually be nervous.

“I came to check up on you.” Henry suddenly feels a strange bundle of emotions unfurl in his stomach.

“Oh,” is all he can manage to get out. Tom bites his lip.

“Is that ok?”

“Yeah! Yeah, it’s fine, uh…” He takes a deep breath, but breaks into a fit of coughs before he can speak. He feels a steady hand on his back. After he’s done with the fit the world swims, and there’s a hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s go inside so you can sit down, ok?” Henry just nods, and after a few moments of struggling to fit the key into the lock, Tom does it for him. Immediately, he strips off his scarf and coat and practically collapses onto the couch, pulling off his boots. He leans back into the cushions, closing his eyes.

“Fuck…” he breathes, and he hears Tom laugh quietly. When he opens his eyes, he sees Tom sitting in front of him on the coffee table, still looking nervous. “Why would you wanna check on me?”

“Well you didn’t seem so good last night, and I wanted to make sure you were ok. Even though you hate my guts,” he says with a smile. He starts to rummage through his backpack, and pulls out a bottle of tylenol and a thermometer, as well as a quart container of soup.

“I don’t hate your guts,” Henry says quietly, and Tom gives him another smile.

“Well that’s good to hear.” He leans forward and starts to move his palm toward his forehead, but hesitates. “Is this ok?” Henry nods, and sighs when he feels the cool palm on his overheated skin. He moves his hand to his cheek. “Jesus, you’re really burning up.”

He lets out another volley of coughs, and Tom rubs his back again. It feels nice, but it doesn’t make the confusion go away. For now though, he’s happy to just be looked after.

“Here.” Tom slips the thermometer under his tongue, brushing some of his hair away from his face. When it beeps, he takes it out. “102. Not so bad.” Henry has a feeling he’s saying that more for his benefit than his own. “You want me to grab you some more comfortable clothes?” Henry just nods, and Tom smiles in return. “Alright.”

He gets up and walks into the bedroom, leaving Henry alone on the couch, finally giving him a moment to process all of this. Why on earth would Tom care about him? They’re not really friends, are they? And Tom was straight, wasn’t he? And even if he wasn’t, there’s no way he’d actually like Henry of all people. And did Henry even like him? Sure, he’s sweet and funny and impossibly hot, but he’s friends with Sam. And he’s on the soccer team. And he’s so outgoing and friendly all the time, wouldn’t that get annoying?

He almost doesn’t notice when Tom gets back.

“Here you go. You want me to go in the kitchen while you change?” He hands him the clothes, and Henry bites his lip.

“If you want to.” Is that a weird answer? Tom smirks.

“I’m fine if you’re fine.”

Henry starts to take off his shirt, but he’s so shaky and uncoordinated, Tom has to help him, which probably killed any romance the situation offered, he thinks. The clean fabric feels nice against his feverish skin. The pants go the same way, and he didn’t realize how uncomfortable he was until now.

“Here, lean your head back,” Tom says, and he does. Tom presses a cool, damp cloth to his forehead, and he sighs softly. “That feels good?” He nods. There’s a few moments of silence while he just relaxes into the feeling. Then, he sits up straight.

“Why are you doing all this?” Tom looks nervous again.

“You’re my...friend. And I care about you,” he says, and Henry feels his heart sink a little.

“Oh. Ok.” He must sound disappointed, because Tom smiles.

“Hoping for a different answer?” Henry shrugs, and Tom rubs his jaw.

“I mean, it’s a little embarrassing but I used to...have a crush on you. But I think you made it kind of clear you weren’t interested.” Henry can’t hide his confusion.

“I made it clear?” He’s genuinely not sure what Tom is talking about. Sure, he’s never out right flirted with him, but he always thought he was straight anyway.

“Just...one word answers to everything, always seeming like you had somewhere else to be - it’s fine. I don’t know why I even brought it up. You want some soup?” Henry just nods, and Tom smiles. “Ok, sounds good.”

He heads into the kitchen, and Henry’s mind runs a mile a minute. There’s no way he’s telling the truth right? But why would he lie? He comes back through the doorway and leans against the frame.

“It’s on the stove, just have to wait a few minutes. You feeling ok?”

“Yeah, uh...I wanna tell you something.” Henry doesn’t know how he can make leaning against a doorframe look so good.

“Shoot.”

“I kinda had a crush on you too. Or...have.” He can feel himself blushing. Tom laughs.

“You have a really funny way of showing it.” He’s beaming, and it makes Henry smile too.

“Well it’s not my fault you’re so annoying,” he says, and Tom walks back over to the coffee table and sits down. Tom’s hand rests on his forehead, then makes its way down to his cheek. It feels so steady. Stable.

“I’m not the one that got themself sick with pneumonia because I wouldn’t miss a class, am I?” Without thinking, Henry wraps his arms around him as tight as he can - which isn’t very tight, but still. He buries his face in the crook of his neck and takes a deep breath. Tom rubs his back gently.

“Thank you, for doing all this,” he whispers, and Tom squeezes him a little bit tighter.

“Anytime.”

[drethanramslay]

Without You

Pairing: Logan x MC (Lexi Cahill)

Masterlist

Word count: 2.5 K words

Warning: Just a little cursing, here and there and Angst

MC is actually not present in this fic, this is Logan's POV, four months after he had to leave LA

Author's note: I decided to take part in @rodappreciationweek so here is my submission :)) 

Thanks to @choicesarehard @brightpinkpeppercorn and @client-327 for hosting this 💙

Thanks to @mvalentine for pre-reading it❤️❤️

Title inspiration: Without You by Avicii (ft. Sandro Cavazza)

Song: Gone by Blake Rose

Forgive me if I make any mistakes.

The rays of the sun spilled through the crack in my curtains, making the white walls a yellow hue. My eyes were bleary and red rimmed. It had just been moments since I woke up and my hangover struck me like a train wreck, a familiar electric pain behind my eyes.

I shouldn't have drank so much.

I moved my head to only see an an empty bed side. Of course she left. Who would want to stick around after a one night stand?

The hazy memories of last night filtered through my head, making me wince. Another night, another rave, another tray of shots and another chick to bang.

You could call it saturday shenanigans but, this was different.

Everything was different since I left her.

All my days just seem to melt away into a haze of alcohol and drugs... Today, tomorrow, yesterday seems to fuse into this neverending torture, an ache which no matter how much I drink or how many girls I fuck, never fucking ceases to hurt. The only thing which can fix this gaping wound in my heart is Lexi.

But she is not here.

And never will be.

So this is how it has been for the past weeks. Me getting inebriated to new extremes just to numb the pain and to temporarily erase the loneliness before I become sober again.

Because when I'm in those intoxicated wastelands, I'm so out of it that I can almost hallucinate her dancing with me. I can almost smell her strawberry shampoo, tickling my nose. I can almost hear her tinkling laugh.

And in my alcohol induced sleep, I dream of her in my arms the both of us fitting together, like two jigsaw puzzles.

I despise being sober. Because when I am In my senses, the entire load of loss weighs down on me, crushing me and suffocating me. The 'could have been's' and the regret are all a heavy burden on my shoulders.

A small part of me is often wishing, praying and hoping that things could just go back to normal but, deep in my gut I know, that nothing is ever going to be the same again.

Nothing is ever going to be the same, now that she was gone...

How much time does it take to get over people?

It may be a day, a week, a month or a year. There is no definitive time span for getting over someone you loved, someone you cherished or someone who was close to your heart.

I think it depends on how much of an impact the said person had on you or how much of a void that person left in you.

I was the wild and carefree guy, with no strings attached and never saw myself being the one to fall in love because... Let's admit it, love is a vulnerability, a weakness which people don't hesitate to exploit.

But fast forward to four months later, I am in the same category as those emotional pussies crying over a breakup.

Being brought up in foster homes made me grow up quickly. Some houses were good and caring whilst some were harsh. And knowing that I am the most cursed person to walk the earth, I was always was stuck with the shitty households.

Don't believe me? I still have those scars from the fights and the beatings.

Growing up in such a hostile environment, taught me that there is no room for weakness or error and that love and feelings are just some fairy tale myth which is made by philosophical fools to give you a sense of hope.

But, hope is a dangerous thing, two side of the same coin. It can make you and break you.

I don't think I would have survived my childhood but... That's when I fell in love with cars.

It holds a special place in my heart.

The way my adrenaline spikes as the pointer on my speedometer achieves unattainable speeds, the way I feel the purr of my engine resound through my entire body and they way it's just me, my car and the open road... Nobody could ever compare to that sensation of freedom.

Well, that was before I met her.

Lexi Cahill.

I admit it started off as a way to recruit her as an informant, a tool to stay out of prison, another heart to break.

But little did I know that life would pull the fucking reverse uno card on me. But, I'm low-key glad it did.

It's been 4 months since that scum bag was thrown into the jail.

Four months since the crew went its separate ways.

Four months since I walked away from her.

I don't want to let you go...

Those words were on a repeat in his head, like a broken tape recorder and her teary eyes and broken expression is forever burnt into his brain. It was so hard to let her go. The one time I found a reason to stay, a reason to fight for, a reason to stop running, life just fucked it all up.

It was a tussle, a war between what my heart wanted and the logical side of me which just left me exhausted.

In conclusion, heartbreak sucks.

I reach for my phone and switch it on to check the time. But my eyes fall on our prom photo which I had made as my wallpaper. It's really stupid how head over heels I'm in love with her.

But it's the truth.

There is a saying that life gives you only one great love and that many people go for years without that.

I was one of the few lucky people to get that at 18.

But life is not sunflowers and unicorns shitting rainbows. It's rough, it's hard with its a mix of ups and downs. But it seems like mine is set to be on the all time low.

Staggering to the bathroom, I heavily leaned against the counter, my muscles flexing as I gripped the edge. My eyes lifted to see my reflection staring back at me.

I look like a hot mess.

This isn't you Logan... My inner conscience said, which eerily sounded like her.

God, I really must be losing it, huh?

Slowly and painfully I started my morning chores, my body on auto pilot. My mind kept on wandering to Lexi. She would be in Langston by now.

Would she be in that off shoulder sweater of hers, her feather tattoo peaking from underneath the sleeve? Would she be highlighting and colour coordinating her notes like she always did?

Would she have made new friends? Or dare I say a new boyfriend?

Logan stop hurting yourself. I said to myself as I visibly cringed at the thought of someone else having their arms around her.

The idea of someone else kissing her soft lips or someone else holding her hands or someone else running his hands along the curvature of her naked back made me equal parts angry and sad.

Angry for you know, obvious reasons but sad for the life I had to leave behind in LA.

God I hate this existential crisis shit... It's to early to question life.

I dragged myself in the direction of the kitchen, the smell of bacon waking me up. I was shirtless and wearing a pair of sweatpants because I was too fucking tired to wear anything else.

"Look who has decided to grace us with their presence."

"Shut up Carl, it's too early for your bullshit." Raven said as she slapped the top of his head.

I shot her a look of gratitude as I sank into my seat and reached for the plate of pancakes.

Carl and Raven were the closest thing to parents for me. Carl was a tough man with huge muscles, around six feet tall but, he was as goofy as a child. Raven was his girlfriend who was hella intimidating. The kohl lined eyes and the floral tattoo on the side of her shaven head made her look fierce. Both of them were in their early thirties and ran the Detroit Central crew.

We three were in a different crew when I was 15 and they really took a liking for me. They taught me everything I know and they are the family that I always came back too.

I dug into my breakfast, eating slowly and savouring the sweetness of the maple syrup.

"Thank god you are atleast eating now." Raven said as she ruffled my hair and turned towards the sink.

I shrugged and Carl picked up the newspaper to read, settling into his seat. Suddenly, the bell rang which had all of our backs becoming as stiff as a rod.

"Were you expecting someone, darlin'?" Raven asked, trying to peak through the windows.

"Don't get up, I'll do it." Carl said as he picked up the gun on the counter and pushed it into the back pocket of his cargo pants.

I was frozen, terrified. I had been very careful in escaping but me being the reckless fool and getting drunk seven ways to Sunday may have tipped them off.

I'm such a colossal dumbass.

I could hear Carl's gruff voice talking but I couldn't peek at the person on the other side of the door. I just sank further into my seat, hoping that it was some lost person and not the FBI.

"Boy this one's for you." He moved aside and the person I least expected to see walked in.

"You look like shit."

"Good morning to you too, asshole." I rolled my eyes.

Colt walked into the kitchen, wearing his trademark leather jackets and dark jeans. His combat boots made a thud sound with each step which made my headache worse.

"Will you be okay, Lo-lo?" Raven asked, her eyes flitting to the jerk standing in her kitchen.

Colt snorted at the nickname but luckily kept his mouth shut.

"Yep Ra. Meet Colt Kaneko. Colt meet Raven and Carl." I spoke at I stood up and put my dirty dishes in the sink.

"Oh you are Kaneko's boy, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"We heard about what went down in LA. Our condolences. He was a great man."

He gave a nod. It was a sore subject for me as well. That night in the alley, I wished I could take it back. I usually am not one to regret what I spew but whatever I said to Kaneko is another burden I'm gonna carry all my life.

"Also heard about your crew busted the Brotherhood? You were the mastermind behind it right?" Carl said as he crossed his arms.

"As much as I would love to take the credit, it was Lexi who came up with the plan." Colt said his eyes darted towards me, gauging my reaction.

"The newbie? Heard she drives like the wind-"

Hearing her name felt like an iron fist clenching my heart. That name will always be the source of my happiness, my cherished memories and my melancholy.

"Colt let's take this to the backyard, shall we?" Logan spoke up, interrupting them.

He walked to the back door and Colt followed him wordlessly. It a sunny day but a cool breeze blew which provided some kind of relief.

I reached to take out two beers from the cooler and handed him one. Colt raised an eyebrow.

"Beer... At ten in the morning?"

I shrugged as I popped the bottle cap off mine. "It's 5pm somewhere else."

"That's true too. Cheers." We clinked the necks of our bottles and took a sip as we sat down on the patio chairs.

I turned towards him. "So what brings you to Detroit?"

"To see your pretty face?" Colt said sarcastically as he rolled his eyes.

I snorted. "Always knew you had a thing for me, pretty boy."

"Always knew that you had an ego the size of Jupiter, dickhead. Some things just don't change."

I sighed. "Can't say the same for me through. Everything is different now."

Surprisingly, Colt didn't mock him. He stared down at the bottle in his hands. "Yeah... I can understand. How are you holding up?" He asked as he turned to face me.

I took a huge gulp of my beer before responding, my eyes staring at the mango tree in my neighbor's back yard.

"Not too good. It's been hard for the last couple of months. Kaneko's death, leaving LA and maintaining a low profile... It's been tough."

Life without Lexi is tough.

"Yeah I can understand. I still imagine pops opening the door to wake me up. And don't get me started on the FBI... bunch of bloodsuckers." He muttered the last part.

I snorted. "I'll drink to that."

"Good thing they are off our backs now." Colt spoke eyeing him from the corner of his eyes.

I scoffed. "Bitch please. They are anything but lazy. They are gonna continue hunting us down till the end of time."

"I meant that we are not the top priorities at the moment. Sure Mona was sent to jail but, a little birdie told me that they are after this 'world class' thief at the moment."

"That's a relief I guess."

"Do you know what this means?" He asked taking another sip of beer.

"It's too early for my brain to function. Come to the point, asshole."

"We are rebuilding the crew, dickhead."

My eyes widened. "No way."

"Yup." He said popping the 'p'. He downed the remainder of his beer before standing up. "I'm done repairing the garage. We have a job in two months and I need a crew for that. I already have Ximena on board and now I'm gonna go over to Toby's."

My mind was swimming. Mercy Park Crew was coming back for good.

I looked up at him, suddenly nervous. "What about Lexi?"

He rolled his eyes. "When I said I'm rebuilding the crew, I also meant recruiting Lexi, dumbass."

Oh god.

She is going to come back.

I was frozen in my place once again. I had often asked myself how I would react if I got the chance to meet her again. I always imagined that I would let out the loudest cheer and dance like a mad man.

But this is reality and my thundering heart was a reminder of that.

"Why are you sitting there with your mouth open like a fish? Go! Get your girl."

And that was it. I rushed to my room, put on some decent clothes and haphazardly stuffed my things into my satchel. Grabbing my keys and yelling a quick good bye to Raven and Carl, I was out and in my 2005 Devore GT.

Reving the engine I took off on the roads of Detroit, heading for the highway.

The window was open and the breeze threaded through my unruly hair, making me feel alive. My hands clutched the wheel and my foot pressed down on the accelerator, speeding through the empty streets.

For the first time, in a very long, the roads which felt like a never ending maze for me, were the very ones which were the path to my freedom.

The path to my happiness.

The path to my Lexi.

I hope you liked it 😊

Logan x mc: @kaavyaethanramsey @openheart @skylarklyon @shadowycreatorpaperopera @pixelberryownsme @magicalshepherdtreeprofessor @anotherbeingsworld​

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[regrettablewritings]

How They Spend the Quarantine (Tadashi Hamada, Lucifer Morningstar, Dewey Finn, Wade Wilson, Harley Quinn, & Benoit Blanc)

Just a fun (?? is that even responsible to say?) little thing I’ve been thinking about while slogging through this neverending hellscape of an extended lockdown.

Tadashi Hamada

When San Fransokyo was ordered to go into a lockdown, there were mixed feelings.

At first, Tadashi had a hint of optimism that this would mean more time to work on his prospective projects . . . But then he quickly realized that his projects mostly required tools and space offered by the campus. He could technically make do at home, but it wouldn’t quite be the same considering the garage was considered Hiro’s space.

Somberly had to clean out his lab and take whatever he could home.

Cue the rest of the group (sans Fred and Hiro) griping that at least his style of science could travel well enough to be somewhat continued off of university grounds.

Helps do delivery for The Lucky Cat. It helps him get out the house, and it’s simply helpful altogether.

Uses Baymax frequently to make sure everyone down to Mochi is sanitized, and nobody’s running a fever.

Nearly as frequent a sanitizer as Aunt Cass.

He starts most days prepared to be productive, only to stop and poke fun at Hiro, who’s almost always got his eyes trained on a video game.

Tadashi realizes three hours later that he, too, has been playing the game as Player 2.

Learned how to make facial masks with Aunt Cass. He already knew how to sew a little but frankly, making the masks made him realize he could have a new hobby on his hands. He’s currently trying to figure out how to make Mochi a little vest . . .

Lucifer Morningstar

B o r e d. A s. F u c k.

At first, he thinks everyone being forced to go home would work in his favor -- surely some rule-breakers would sneak out and try to bunk up with the Devil, right?

Well . . . Kinda? Once Chloe found out and scolded him about it, the idea died real fast. Plus, he realized he wasn’t quite fond of the possibility of being around someone who could pop up with a disgusting human sickness at any point during their time with him. Smearing their snot all over, coughing into his Egyptian cotton sheets . . . Nope, never mind, he is perfectly content having the penthouse to himself, thank you very much!

Except he’s not.

The poor bastard is going crazy by himself -- he’s just not used to being without some kind of company!

“At least in Hell, you could tell there were people around you based on the screaming!” he’d whine at his phone during his hourly video chat with Chloe.

Oh yes: The video chats. He tries to make them hourly with anyone he can get a hold of (namely, his long-suffering detective) but this clearly never plays out as he would like for it to: If he had it his way, everyone would respond in an instant and let him bounce mainly one-sided conversations off of them -- basically, what he did before all this went down.

What usually winds up happening is he gets hung up on or nobody answers him at all out of sheer annoyance over his clinginess.

Ironically, he’s not exactly crazy about when Amenadiel initiates those “family calls”. He insists it’s healthy and normal for them to do this and even calls Luci out on the hypocrisy, but let’s face it: Lucifer finds it obnoxiously gushy and weird.

He works his way into Linda’s video appointment books to help him cope with his boredom and admitted need for interactions. She doesn’t mind offering him counsel, but once Lucifer starts attempting to butt in during others’ appointment calls, it becomes an issue.

Has, at some point, gotten buzzed down in Lux and streamed himself attempting to pole dance. It drew quite a bit of attention.

He’s managed to gain a bit of a following and some companionship by streaming himself playing piano and singing. It’s not the same thing as having an actual audience, in his opinion, but it will have to do for now.

He’s never been one to binge with regards to TV shows or movies, but after the first week, he decided to binge watch every work action star Wesley Cabot was ever in.

Makes sure his staff still gets paid well. After all, he’s pretty well-off; there’s no need to make an innocent bartender’s life a living hell just because some other rich bastard fucked up, yeah?

Going off this, should he need to order to-go or anything, we already know he tends to tip as handsomely as he looks.

Dewey Finn

Kids were being sent to Horace Green on tuitions worth more than what some people saw in half a year -- of course the school was going to continue classes online!

While technically an afterschool instructor, the program is popular enough for parents to expect it to continue, and for Dewey to be kept on payroll.

Initially, he was pretty smug: He’s one if, if not, the youngest teacher-figure at Horace Green, so surely that means he’s more tech savvy than his older, stiffer coworkers, right? For once, he’s ahead of the curve!

Wrong: Figuring out Zoom was a headache, and then there was the realization of just how dependent his classes were on actual physical presence.

Plus, let’s be real: Dewey’s Internet connection was decent on its own, but craptastic when compared to those of his wealthier students. The lag is strong with this one.

Has definitely accidentally messed up the background on his screen. Somehow wound up with the Beetlejuice background and got so frustrated, he wound up keeping it there for two whole sessions.

In spite of the slight issues regarding lag, they pull through and try to resume lessons as best they can.

Tries to keep optimism by pointing out how this is a new form of entertainment they could be pioneers in.

Some days, it’s just going so wack or everyone’s so bleh that Dewey just assigns for them to watch a music documentary or something.

“Okay, kids, Mr. Finn’s hungover and clearly Summer is the only one who went to bed before 3am. So what I’m gonna have you do is watch . . . Prrrbbbb . . . Amadeus.” “How is Amadeus rock-related?” “It had a rock single, shut up. Anyway, we meet back next class and talk about what we saw, m’kay? M’kay. Over and out.”

Next class, he’s filled with dread as Summer produces an in-depth analysis of the relationship or lack thereof between character and the presence of talent as evidenced by Mozart’s abilities juxtaposed with his immature presentation and -- Dewey just can’t keep up. Sure, Summer, why not?

When he’s not busy teaching, however, he’s using the lockdown to work on some new material. Or just screwing around.

Otherwise, let’s be real, Big Boy’s living the high life in a place of his own: Playing video games (Animal Crossing, recently got back into Team Fortress 2, is trying to finally finish Ocarina of Time); eating a not very great diet; staying up late, napping at weird times; all in the name of quarantine.

If he orders delivery or to-go, he tips the best he can.

Wade Wilson

On one hand, murking never goes on lockdown. But on the other . . . He’s already technically not well, why risk that even with his mutation?

Oh, fuck I just remembered he lives at the X Mansion, never mind turn back turn back oh god give us free --

The situation is tense to say the least. There’s Wade, who’s sensible enough to know why the quarantine is in place . . . and then there’s everyone else, who knows Wade’s full of shit.

And by everyone, I “coincidentally” mean Colossus, Nega Sonic, Yukio, Domino, Cable, and Russ because the already small world of the sequel just got smaller by the fact that everyone is bound to a large but nonetheless single estate whose size has probably decreased from that of the First Class timeline.

You know those videos of the usual Quarantine Characters? Wade is somehow yet still unsurprisingly all of them, save for the frequent sanitizer. He raids the pantry frequently, sleeps at all hours, considers scooting a swivel chair down the halls exercise for the thighs, blasts video games, and so on.

Going back to the sanitizer thing, it’s not that he’s just not exactly known for being tidy. Colossus occasionally does drag him out of bed at a decidedly decent time (read: any time before 11am) to try and get him excited about cleaning up around the mansion, but it rarely ends well. At this point, the safest option is to just remind Wade to wash his hands for 20 seconds as necessary.

Has acquired a Switch and visits everyone’s island, often to bonk them on the head with a net or gift them with weird crap they don’t necessarily want. For the “friends” from Sister Margaret’s, he has somehow acquired their Dodo Codes. Nobody knows how he did this. 

Facetimes Dopinder frequently.

“Precious, you’re the beacon of light in this cold, cruel world.” “I miss you, too, DP --” “Sshshsh! I’m having a moment . . .” *weeps*

On the many occasions he orders delivery, he tips by giving the delivery person something expensive from the mansion that they can sell. Prof. X is loaded, after all. Plus, he more or less isn’t even present in this universe, it’s not like he’s gonna miss anything he can’t see/probably doesn’t even know exists in his house. The problem is, Colossus does exist and does notice and does care when things go missing. Leading to many a delivery person getting caught up in shenanigans at that weird school in the boonies that they either don’t get paid enough to deal with or couldn’t pay to make up.

“Oh, pawn shops are closed?” asks the man who looks like a skinned avocado if avocados had human skin. “Don’t worry, lemme hook you up -- I know some guys --” “DEADPOOOOOLLL!!” roars a Russian accent from inside the house. “WHERE IS THE BRONZE BUST OF THE PROFESSOR!?” The poor delivery person’s eyes widen as they realize that the odd cargo they’ve been presented with apparently holds some value of some kind. But before they can flee, the avocado man blurts, “Shit! Leave the pizza in the bushes, look me up on my Youtube page, byyyeeee!!”

In his defense, Wade does hold up his end of the deal. Much like the Dodo Codes, nobody knows what strings he pulled. They just accept it and move on.

Harley Quinn

Surprisingly compliant.

She’s crazy, not stupid: Staying at home may suck, but what sucks more is making things harder on people who may not fair so well. Besides, she’s spent time in a maximum security prison -- she can handle staying cooped up in her own home. At least home has TV, books, and snacks.

When she hears people are still going out without masks or plotting to have a protest, she strongly considers firing up the old Fun Gun and popping the next sign-carrying Karen she sees with a tit full of cadmium yellow powder.

Seriously, stay the fuck home and fuck up your own hair; this is the perfect time to make mistakes with your looks, it ain’t like you got anywhere to be or anyone to impress.

“STAY THE FUCK HOME, BITCH!” P O W!!! “JUST GO GREY ALREADY, WE ALL KNOW YOUR HAIR AIN’T THAT COLOR ANYMORE, YOU’RE THREE YEARS FROM BEING IN THE GODDAMN AGE-BRACKET!!!” P O W!!!!

Only leaves her new apartment to grab groceries and to take Bruce on a walk. She actually refuses to steal or cause a scene during this shitshow because she may be a bad guy, but she sure ain’t evil.

So far, there haven’t been complaints about the fact that she’s walking a hyena down a public street. Maybe it’s because there’s hardly anyone out? Maybe it’s because Gothamites just can’t be bothered to be fazed by it . . . Or maybe it’s because she made him a little mask for his snout.

“In this house, we wash our hands for at least 20 seconds, kid.”

Lets the forest reclaim the earth, so to speak. She was never really shaving anything for anyone but herself before, but now it just seems especially pointless.

Spends almost every day in a kigurumi. To give her a semblance of routine, she has a pink bear one she calls her “Sunday Suit.” She doesn’t know it’s not Sunday because the days just blur but Cass just doesn’t have the heart to tell her; she seemed so proud of herself . . .

Like everyone else, she’s gotten Animal Crossing. She’s trying to create an all-preppy island with a few exceptions (Astrid = Aesthetic, m’kay?)

Tips nicely when ordering delivery.

Benoit Blanc

As young and spry in nature as the gentleman sleuth would like to think of himself, he would really rather not test the dangers of the situation and go about all foolhardy -- he’s staying home!

In theory, it’s only logical and therefore perfectly fine. But in practice . . . God, he wishes he’d invested more in things to occupy himself with when home.

It wasn’t that Benoit was never home, he just never felt too much of a need to invest in a fancy entertainment center -- the fanciest he ever got was an iHome.

The beginning of the quarantine served as the perfect time for him to read over case files, catch up on paperwork, even catch up on some reading he’d been putting on hold since God knows when due to cases popping up left and right. But that dried up quicker than he’d assumed, and that’s when he was faced with what a man of his mind dreads the most: Boredom.

Finally caved and decided to hook up Amazon Fire.

Expected to use the one-month free trial on Netflix and be just fine but once the lockdown in his area got extended and he realized he wasn’t going to be able to catch up with Crazy Ex-Girlfriend at this rate, he caves even further and buys a subscription.

Fully delights at the influx of platforms uploading Broadway recordings; when The Show Must Go On put on Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat, followed by The Phantom of The Opera, it was a treat, I tell you!

Sanitizes often, despite hardly ever leaving his house besides to have a smoke or to go grab groceries. Honestly, it’s less about cleaning at this point so much as it is finding something to occupy his focus when he feels there’s nothing else to so.

Takes zinc after every meal to help lessen the intensity of any ailment that might hit him.

Definitely owns a facemask. There’s a good chance it’s from Marta or one of his relatives, and there’s another good chance the pattern is as flamboyant as his clothing. He’s delighted.

Benoit tries not to rely too much on delivery,  as he’d much rather just cook. On the rare occasion where tipping comes up, however, he gives as generously as he can.

Bonus: There’s a slight chance he might have acquired a companion to foster early on in the quarantine. Benoit hadn’t had a pet since childhood, a crime of which he was admittedly melancholic of his own involvement. However, his surprisingly busy lifestyle just wouldn’t suit a four-legged friend, now could it?

Well, now there’s time to. Besides, it would certainly ease the potential feeling of loneliness to have someone or something with whom he could interact with.

Admittedly, when shelters began encouraging people to invest time in taking home a companion, he’d been looking more for a comrade on the canine side of the spectrum -- but darn, if Duke wasn’t a handsome cat.

A lovely grey-and-white cat with eyes that matched his own, Duke has become the one Benoit monologues to (because in all honesty, the man is a performer at heart, in need of an audience to speak his mind to and portray a thought before). Plus, he doesn’t appear to mind it when Benoit finds himself belting out in tone-deaf notes to showtunes while washing the dishes: The mark of a true companion.

At this rate, he’s probably not going to keep fostering Duke when things calm down -- he’s probably going to just straight up adopt him.

Stay safe & healthy!

[nothingeverlost]

Henry Gold (8/?)

Summary: Regina asked for Gold’s help in procuring a child, but when he held the wee boy in his arms he couldn’t give the child up.  Ten years later it’s Henry Gold who arrives in Boston, looking for Emma.

This chapter: Graham’s recovery, Sidney Glass appears, Emma starts her new job, and Henry makes friends.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3/ Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7

II

“He’ll be okay, won’t he dad?”  Henry was, reluctantly, in his bed.  He’d begged for a visit to see Graham but really one late night visit to the hospital was enough for a week.  They would go in the morning, he’d promised.

“You heard what Emma said.  He’s awake, his tests came back clear.  They’re keeping him overnight as a precaution; he should be home in time for lunch tomorrow.”  The doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with the sheriff’s heart, which was both true and ironic.  Gold could have told them there was nothing wrong, except for the fact that it was in a cardboard box in the basement and not in Graham’s chest.

“What if it happens again?” From under the blankets Gold could see the fabric plunger that told him Henry had his dalek under the blankets.  At ten it wasn’t often that he slept with the stuffed toy that had been his nightly companion from the age of four on, but Emma’s distressed call from the ambulance had rattled him.  “The evil queen tried to hurt him.”

“I promise you it won’t happen again.  He’s got Emma working for him now, and she’ll watch out for any trouble.”  For the first time he almost wished he could tell Henry that he was right about everything, if only to reassure him that the evil queen didn’t have the power to hurt Graham any longer.  It would give him even more to worry about, though, if he realized the scope of what they were dealing with.  And then there was the fact that he would have to admit his own role in things.

“She’s staying for real, isn’t she dad?  She has a job now, that has to mean that she’d not going back to Boston.”  He grinned, and it was the first smile he’d seen since breakfastime.  

“I think she is, Henry.  I think she really is.”  He kissed his son’s forehead and reached over to set the timer on the bed stand.  “Fifteen minutes for reading and then it’s lights out, alright?”

“Yes dad.”  He pulled a Percy Jackson book out from under his pillow and was quickly lost in the pages, concerns about curses and hearts put aside for a little while.  

Too keyed up to sleep, Gold limped back downstairs, muscles sore from the walk into the forest as well as the climb into Regina’s vault.  The ache was one he’d lived with for decades now, but before that he’d been free of pain for centuries and it was frustrating to know it was possible to be without the shattered bones and painful joints, but out of his grasp right now.  He had pills for days when it was too bad, but tonight he headed for the bottle of scotch and poured himself a couple of fingers.  It was an hour before Emma came home, trying her best to be quiet.

“Drink?” He offered once her eyes had a chance to adjust to the light and she was less likely to be startled.  

“Why not?”  She accepted the scotch he offered her, sinking down onto the couch and tossing back half of it in a gulp.  “Whale oh so politely kicked me out.  Said Graham needed his rest and thought I might be distracting.”

“Perhaps Graham wasn’t the only person he thought needed some rest.”  She had dark circles under her eyes.  He suspected she hadn’t slept well last night, after whatever had happened between her and Graham.  “Did you have a chance to get anything to eat?”

“One of the nurses brought me a tray.”  When her drink was gone she set down the glass, not seeking a refill.  “I don’t like leaving him there alone.”

“The staff at the hospital is adequate.  They can manage for a night.”  When Whale regained his memories it was going to be interesting, but for now he was simply a decent doctor who spent far too much time flirting.  An amusing contrast to the man he’d known.

“I’m more worried about unexpected and unwanted visitors.  He ended things with Regina tonight and she didn’t take it well.”  

“She rarely takes anything well unless it’s her own idea or she can claim it as her own.”  Emma didn’t understand the weight of what she was saying.  Graham had been Regina’s for almost four decades, and she didn’t let go easily.  While the Saviour was always going to have an enemy in the evil queen, Emma had made a much more personal enemy of Regina Mills.  

“I’ll call the hospital, make it clear that our sheriff is to have no visitors until morning.  They know well enough not to cross me.  Donations, and many pay me rent,” he offered as a vague explanation.  In truth most residents of town held a fear for him that was in their bones, not understood because of their amnesia.  He didn’t mention that Regina was most likely at home nursing a painful headache, if she wasn’t still unconscious, and probably not a threat for the immediate present.

“Thanks.”  Emma leaned forward, looking like she wanted to stand but not quite having the energy.  “Your mayor is a real piece of work.”

“I believe she’s your mayor too, Deputy.”  She didn’t wear the badge yet, but she would.  A golden star.  It was good; symbols had power and they could use every bit of power they had.  Emma as deputy was something he would have arranged himself, eventually.  It was so much easier being Graham’s idea.

“Great.”  Emma pulled together enough energy to stand.  “Is Henry alright?”

“He’s worried, but he fell asleep after I promised we’d see the sheriff tomorrow.  He’ll be glad to see you in the morning.”  His boy was getting quite attached.  It was strange, to think of sharing his son with anyone.  With Bae Milah was never quite there even before she’d left. 

“I’ll be glad to see him too.”

II

“Alright so kid, lunch with your dad and then it’s back to the hospital to pick up Graham.” Henry had insisted on spending most of the morning with her, after their first visit to the hospital.  They’d been to the grocery store to pick up grapes, chicken soup, mashed potatoes and any other ‘sick’ foods they could think of, dropping them off at Graham’s apartment.  They’d rented a stack of videos, because Storybrooke was backward enough to still have a video rental store.  Most of the movies at Neverending Stories were older, but she’d found a few she thought might entertain Graham.  Henry had insisted on renting the Disney version of Robin Hood, because of the archery contest.  Henry had been very excited when their morning errands had included a stop at the sheriff’s station to pick up Graham’s jacket.  He’d carefully examined all three desks in the main room before declaring that she should claim the one by the window.  If she was by the window, he decided, she could get a plant for her desk.  Mostly, she knew, he was excited about the fact that she had a job, and that meant sticking around.

“We could get him a milkshake,” Henry suggested as they approached the diner.

“I don’t think that much sugar and dairy is what you give someone that just had a… whatever he had.”  Emma’s jaw clenched when she thought of him collapsing on the ground, talking about his heart.  The heart she’d seen very clearly on the sonogram Whale had run.  But it was less than 24 hours and he was already an hour and a half from being released, so she had to believe that it was alright.  “We’ll heat up that soup, okay?  Maybe some crackers.”

“Can I have a milkshake?” He looked up at her, grinning, and she had to laugh as she ruffled his hair.  

“That’s up to your dad.”  She was feeling lighter as they walked side by side into the diner.  Everyone was staring at her, but she assumed that was about Graham, or the news of her new job was already spreading. Gold had a booth for them already, and she slid in across from him.  Henry took the spot next to his dad.  “Hey.”

“Hey.”  Gold’s answer was more terse than she’d expected.  She frowned, and noticed that he glanced briefly at the table.  Shoved half under the condiment containers there was a rumpled newspaper.  When she started to reach for it he tried to take it away but it was too late.  It unfolded to the front page.

EX-JAILBIRD EMMA SWAN BIRTHED BABE BEHIND BARS

“Shit.”  She didn’t know where they got a picture, she certainly hadn’t posed for it, but when she scanned the bi-line she found it was written by Sidney Glass, a man she’d only met once but who was known to be in the mayor’s pocket.  “Oh shit.”

“I was born in jail?”  Henry was too quick, reading the headline upside down before she’d had a chance to fold the paper up again.  She should have caught Gold’s warning but it was too late.  She looked at Henry, and then shifted her gaze to his father.  He couldn’t help her, though.  Not when the bold lines were shouting the truth.

“It’s supposed to be sealed documents, because I was a juvenile at the time.  I don’t know how anyone found out.”  No, that was a lie.  It had to be Regina, she knew that.  “I made some mistakes, and trusted someone I shouldn’t have trusted.  Sorry, kid.  It’s not exactly the once upon a time sort of story you might have hoped for.”

“It’s kind of funny, don’t you think?”  Henry didn’t seem to be bothered.  Gold was more quiet, and harder to read, but Henry was actually grinning.

“What’s funny?” she asked.

“You were in jail one time and now you’re a deputy and you can put people in jail if you want.  It’s better now, isn’t it?”  Henry folded the paper in half and pushed it back under the mustard.

“Yeah, it’s better now.”  That didn’t change the fact that she wanted to go to the Mirror’s office and shake Sidney Glass.  She had more important things to do, though.  After lunch it was time to return to the hospital and pick up Graham.

“Emma, if I could have a minute?”  Gold stopped her just outside of the diner’s door.  She handed her keys to Henry and let him run ahead to the bug.  

“I’m sorry he found out, Gold.  That’s not exactly a story I was planning on telling him.”  Emma shoved her hands into her jean pockets.  

“I’m sorry for whatever it was that led you to that place when you were that young.  It doesn’t matter, though.  In case you thought it might change my mind about anything I just wanted you to know that it didn’t.  It doesn’t change who you are.  We all have things in our past that we’d rather forget.”

“Thanks.”

“And a word of caution, you want to think before you approach Glass.  He’s not a good enough reporter or a brave enough man to come up with that on his own.  He’s always been a pushover for Regina.  Anything you tell him is going to get back to her.”

“Yeah.”  

“Let me know if you need me to come pick up Henry.  His exuberance might be a bit much for our recovering friend in a small space.”  With a nod to Emma and a wave to his son Gold was off, crossing the street to his shop to remove the ‘out to lunch’ sign he’d hung up.

“Ready kid?”  She slid into the driver’s seat, holding her hand out for her keys so they could head for the hospital.  Five times in one week so far was a habit she hoped they wouldn’t continue.

II

“Did you have lunch yet?  I can heat up some soup while you get settled in bed.”  Emma held open the door, annoyed that Graham had insisted on taking the flight of stairs rather than wait for the elevator to the second floor apartment.  Henry was digging through his bag for the drawing he’d made earlier to welcome Graham home, in which Graham’s bow and arrows featured prominently.

“I’m not tired, I can sit on the couch.”  Emma frowned when he veered towards the brown sofa that had seen better days.  

“Whale said you need to rest,” she reminded him.  He’d been dehydrated on top of the exhaustion, and had been on an IV overnight.  His color was better, at least.

“Emma, I’m fine.  Yesterday seems almost like a dream.”  When he was sitting down he started to untie his boots.  He’d dressed in the same shirt from the day before but his vest and tie were in a bag

“More like a nightmare,” Emma muttered while she fussed around the kitchen looking for a can opener.  Graham didn’t have a microwave, something she assumed was a basic in all kitchens, so she looked for a pot as well.  “Whale’s a doctor, you’re a cop, so guess whose opinion I’m going to trust?”

“Compromise?  I’ll eat the soup and rest, but not in bed.  I’ve been in bed since last night.”  Henry sat next to him on the couch, a piece of paper in one hand and a stack of vhs tapes in the other.  If she knew the kid he was going to be glued to Graham for the next couple of hours.  Better than putting an alarm around his ankle.

“Sure.  I’ll even toss in some popcorn if you eat all your soup.”  She knew from his answers to Whale that he hadn’t eaten much the day before.  She wasn’t going to let him get hungry and dehydrated on her watch.  She warmed up the soup in a pot, stirring it idly while it heated, and got out a glass of water.  When she was about ready she glanced over at the sofa where Graham and Henry were bent over the picture Henry had drawn.  Henry was pointing out features, looking up at Graham to make sure he noticed.  Graham was looking down at the kid and smiling.  She’d never seen Henry look so comfortable with anyone else before, except his dad.  Maybe with her, but that was harder to judge.  She’d never seen Graham look so relaxed either.  

She wasn’t sure how she felt, and wasn’t ready to think about it either.  Graham was now her boss, but also the guy she’d kissed, and held his hand in the hospital.  Twenty-four hours ago she’d been ready to punch him, and a little more than twelve hours ago she’d been afraid of losing him.  And that was simple, compared to how she felt about Henry and who she was in his life.

“Emma, can we have butter on our popcorn like at the movies?” Henry asked.  She was glad for the voice that pulled her from her muddy thoughts.

“You can. Graham can’t.”  She found a spoon in the drawer and carried the bowl of soup and glass of water to the couch.  “In a little while I’ll run out and pick up some hot cocoa for all of us, though.”

After making three bowls of popcorn - Henry’s dripping with butter because apparently that’s the only way he liked it - she joined them on the sofa, sitting on the other side of Henry.  

It was starting to get dark when someone woke her, a hand shaking her shoulder.  When she glanced at the tv the movie playing was not Robin Hood.

“Dad wants to know if we’ll be home for dinner.”  Henry was holding her cell phone.  “Graham was it was okay to answer since we could see that it was my dad calling.”

“Okay.”  She sat up straighter, stretching her neck which was a little sore.  It was then that she realized someone had covered her with a blanket.  “How long?”

“A couple of hours.  You missed one movie entirely and half of the other two.”  Emma glanced at the table and saw that the dishes were gone.  Considering that Henry had to be poked and prodded to remember to clean things it had to be Graham.

“You should have woken me up.”  She was supposed to be the one looking after him.  Instead she’d left a ten year old in charge while she slept.  A ten year old that had been sitting watching tv for hours.  “Let your dad know we’ll be home soon, Henry.”

“You had less sleep last night than I did.  I thought about waking you up to tell you to use the bed because this isn’t the best napping couch, but I figured you’d resist.”  Emma looked over her shoulder towards his bedroom briefly, and shook her head.  Graham moved a little, filling the void where Henry had been sitting.  His fingers lightly rested on her arm.  His voice dropped.  “She was never here, just so you know.  Not in my apartment and not in my bed.  This was too rustic, or out of her control.”

Emma blinked, unsure of what to say.  Not sure how he knew that she’d wondered, or maybe it was on his own mind and he just needed to say it.  Hearing Henry wrapping up his conversation she just nodded.  “I’m going to come back after I take the kid home, probably in an hour or so.  Do you need me to pick anything up?”

“You don’t have to come back.  I’m not going any further than from here to bed, and I’m not going anything more strenuous than making a sandwich.  I’m fine, Emma.  Whale said I can go back to work tomorrow.  I’ll meet you at the station and start showing you the ropes.”

“I’ll be back after dinner,” she repeated.  She wasn’t just going to leave him for the rest of the night.  She also needed to talk to him about the newspaper.  He hadn’t seen it yet but there was no way he’d go long without being told the story.  She was certain Regina would make sure of that.  

“I don’t suppose you’d bring me a donut for dessert?”  For just a moment he looked at her almost exactly the way Henry did when asking for a treat, and she was tempted to ruffle his hair.  

“Not even going to answer that.”  She refilled Graham’s water and made sure the remote was close at hand before ushering Henry out the door.  She’d only be gone an hour or two. 

II

The Mirror’s office was a single room with a handful of desks on the second floor of the building.  The first floor was taken up with the printing press.  When Gold arrived late in the afternoon the first floor was empty and only two people were in the office.

“The work day is over soon.  You should take an early leave, dearie,” he told the receptionist.  The woman barely glanced over her shoulder before gathering up her things.

“Have a good evening, Mr. Gold.”  She was quick to leave, probably heading straight for the home he rented to her.  That left Sidney Glass as the only other person in the room.  He appeared focused on his computer but his hands weren’t moving and when Gold approached the only thing on the screen was a search bar.

“Having a productive evening, Mr. Glass?  Or are you waiting on Regina to email you your next front page story?”  He stayed directly behind Sidney Glass, meaning he could only half make out the man’s facial expressions in the reflection of the screen, but he knew it would make Sidney sweat more.

“Mayor Mills doesn’t work for the paper.”  Gold could all but hear him swallow.

“So you’re saying that you, all on your own, decided to do an expose on Emma Swan?  To track down a sealed court document you didn’t know about and reveal it to everyone in town?”  There was no way Glass had the ability or the connections.  Or the imagination.  They both knew it.

“She’s going to be working for the town as a deputy.  The people deserve to know.”  Glass’s hands wrapped around the edge of the desk.  Gold was almost amused to see the tension.

“How does her abandonment as a child or the mistakes of a teenager make any difference when it comes to her job now?”  He leaned in, just a little.  Like a magnet with the same pole Glass leaned a little farther away.

“As law enforcement…”

“She will do her job and she will do it well.  Nothing you said will change that or make anything better for the people of this town.”  He leaned down, lowering his voice until it wasn’t much more than a whisper.  “The two people most affected by what you call reporting are Emma Swan and the babe she chose to give up for adoption, a very difficult decision for any mother.  Ms. Swan is my guest, and as such I am unhappy when she is slandered.  And the babe, Mr. Glass.  Do you know what happened to her babe?”

“Yes, Mr. Gold.”  He squirmed, and tried to move away.  Gold used his left hand on Glass’s shoulder to hold him in place.

“Then you know why I’m not happy.  And why I will be even more unhappy if I see another report like that in the tabloid you call a newspaper.  Do you want me to be unhappy, Mr. Glass?”  Gold wrinkled his nose; the smell of fear and sweat wasn’t a pleasant one.

“I don’t rent from you a-a-and you don’t own the paper.”  Glass tried one last attempt at bravado.

“Do you really think raising rent is the worst I can do?”  He paused for a moment, squeezing the other man’s  shoulder.  After a beat he let go, turned, and started walking away.  “If you’re not afraid go ahead and try.  Just remember I gave you a chance.”

He smiled as he left the building, and picked up his phone to call Emma and see if she and Henry were coming home for dinner.

II

“Okay, so I assume that you’re planning some sort of background check at some point, right?”  Emma had always been a ‘rip the bandaid off’ type.  She barely let Graham close the door before asking the question.

“There’s some paperwork to fill out with references, but I’m not really worried.”  Graham watched her pace for a minute before grabbing her arm just enough to stop her for a moment.  He held it loosely enough that she could pull away if she wanted.  “What’s this about?  You’re upset about something other than my visit to the hospital.”

“There was a story in the Mirror today.  I was in jail.”  She would have had to tell him that much, because of the job.  She could have left Henry out of it, and not made her story sound like the soap opera it looked like in the paper.

“I’ve only missed one day of work.  You work fast.”  He grinned, but it quickly faded when the joke didn’t make her respond in kind.  “What do you mean?”

“When I was seventeen I was caught with stolen property.  I spent eleven months in minimum security.”  She took a breath, not able to meet his eyes.  “I didn’t know I was pregnant until I’d been in for a month.”

“Henry.”

“Yeah, he was born in the prison infirmary.”  She could still remember the stripes on the wallpaper and the window that was the only one she saw for months without bars on it.

“And he found out from the newspaper.”  

“Yeah.”  He hadn’t asked about it since lunch, but there’d been a lot going on.  She’d talk to him about it again when he’d had more time to digest it.

“That bitch, I’ll…”

“No.”  It didn’t occur to her that Graham would have understood so quickly.  She’d underestimated him.  The last thing she could handle was Graham facing Regina so soon.  She’d taken too much from him already.  He still held one of her arms.  She wrapped her other hand around his upper arm.  It wouldn’t take much to pull him into a hug, or let him hug her.  “Please.”

“She’s lashing out at you because of me.”  She’d seen him upset.  Seen him resigned.  Seen him happy and joking.  She hadn’t seen him angry yet.  Something told her the glare on his face could get worse.  His hand around her arm tightened, though he probably wasn’t aware.  She wondered if it was enough to leave a bruise.

“Hey, I’m capable of making enemies all on my own.”  She shifted her hand from his arm to his chest, resting her palm over his heart.  It was beating, but not too fast.  “I just needed you to hear it from me before someone else told you or you picked up the paper.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that I want you to work with me.”  He leaned forward, and when she might have expected a kiss he touched his forehead to hers.  “It doesn’t change anything else, either.”

She almost nodded, but didn’t want to make him move away.  “Yeah, okay.”

II

Her first official call came the next afternoon.  Graham had jokingly asked if she wanted backup since it was a couple of ten year olds caught stealing candy.  She’d rolled her eyes and warned him that she’d already called the donut shop and put him on a ‘do not serve’ list, so not to bother trying to sneak one while she was gone.

“Henry?”  The three shoplifters were all lined up when she got there, backpacks open.  Henry’s had chocolate bars inside.

“I didn’t take anything, Emma.  I promise.”  Henry looked so worried and confused that Emma probably would have believed him even without her lie detector.  

“Oh course you didn’t.”  Gold must have parked just a moment after her, as he entered the store before she had a chance to say anything else.  “I assume you have video evidence, Mr. Clark?  If not this is simply circumstantial and you have no way of proving that Henry was the one to put the candy in his bag.”

When Clark muttered something about the CCTV being broken Gold laughed.  “As I suspected.  Deputy, as you have two other suspects may I take Henry home?  I believe you know where to find us if you have any more questions.”

“Just leave his bag here, I’ll bring it back to him later.”  She should at least take pictures and make sure the candy was returned.  She squeezed Henry’s shoulder as he left, and turned to the other two kids.  “Did you call their parents?”

“The number they gave me was disconnected,” he said, glaring at the kids.

“Did you guys give Mr. Clark a fake number?”  For a moment when she looked at the girl standing in front of her brother she saw herself, chin tilted up in fake confidence as she shook her head.  She’d lied about her parents more than once and had a fake number rehearsed in case she needed it.  “Then why’s it disconnected?” 

“Our parents couldn’t pay the bill.”  Both kids dropped their gaze.  Emma took a closer look at their bags.  Unlike the one Henry had - which she was certain they had helped him with - their own bags held toothpaste, tins of tuna, crackers, and packages of raisins.  There was a roll of toilet paper in one of the bags.

“You guys are just trying to help out.”  She’d owned a backpack that had, more than once, looked similar.  It was ironic that of all the things she’d stolen in her life, including a stolen car, the one thing she’d gotten caught with she hadn’t stolen at all.  She looked at Mr. Clark.  “There’s no reason to press charges if someone pays for this stuff, right?”

She could help out a little, and make sure they got home safe.  Maybe she could figure out a way to help their parents too.

II

“You’ve brought guests.”  Emma had texted an hour ago that she was picking up burgers on her way home.  He’d expected her and the food.  He hadn’t expected the kids.

“You guys can take these into the dining room.  Henry will help you.”  Emma handed the bags to the kids and waited until all three were out of earshot.  “I didn’t know what else to do.  They were living in a basement on their own.  Their mom is dead and they don’t know anything about their dad.  Regina’s demanding I take them to Boston for foster care but that seems cruel without at least trying to find their dad.  Bad enough that they become someone’s meal ticket and get lost in the system, but the chances of finding a place that will take both of them is slim.”

“Some homes are better than that, aren’t they?”  He meant to tell her that she’d done the right thing.  She couldn’t take the kids out of town and terrible things would happen if she tried.  Of course Regina would do her best to make that happen; what did she care for the possible death of a couple of kids if a car accident killed or maimed the Savior?  But Bae might have been in the same system that Emma had lived though.  Might feel the same things.  Might still be stuck in a home feeling like someone’s meal ticket.

“They’re the rare ones, and the older you are when you start in the system the less likely it is that anyone wants you.  That’s why I signed the release of parental rights for Henry, I had to make it as easy as possible for someone to adopt him.”  They had reassured her that he was healthy and white baby boys were always in demand.  She’d still feared that he could have been bounced back into the system, a fear that had only vanished after he showed up at her door.  “Graham and I will work on figuring it out tomorrow, but I need somewhere for them to stay for the night.  I know it’s an imposition, but…”

“The boy can bunk down in Henry’s room, I’m sure he won’t mind sharing.  The girl can have the spare room.”  It was better to keep them close, giving Regina less opportunity to make any plans.  “Now let’s join the children before our food gets cold or they eat all the fries.  Henry alone can take on a plateful, provided he has enough ketchup.”

After dinner the children made cookies from a box mix he had in the pantry.  He let Emma supervise, mostly because it served to distract her, but also so he could stand back and observe.  Henry was enjoying himself.  He’d never spent much time with his own peers outside of school.  For years he’d put it down to his own reputation and parents not being overly interested in letting their children spend time at the Gold residence.  Now, however, he was aware of the curse and the fact that the ten year olds entertaining his son had also been ten when Henry had been taking his first steps.  They’d been ten when Emma had taken her first steps as well.  In a town where only one child aged his peer group didn’t exist.  For some reason his mind flitted to Jefferson, alone in his mansion, watching his daughter from afar celebrate the same birthday 28 times.

He would keep Ava and Nicholas in town, fighting Regina if it was necessary.  His son wasn’t going to lose the friends he was beginning to find.  “Ava, what is that necklace you’re wearing?”

“It belonged to our mother.”  Her fingers were a little sticky when she took the chain from around her neck and handed it to him.  “She said it was a gift from our father but we don’t know his name.”

“It’s an interesting piece.  Crystal, with a jeweled setting and an eye for detail.  One might even say one of a kind.”  One might even say it was the only one that existed in their world, since it was made in another.  He should have known, when he’d seen them both and Emma had mentioned their homelessness.

“Is it unique enough that we might be able to figure out where it was brought?  They might know who purchased it.”  Emma washed her hands in the sink and dried them on a towel, suddenly focused.  “Where would you buy something like that?”

“You might buy it in a shop that specializes in the one of a kind and rare.  We happen to have a place like that on Main Street.”  Of course it had never been in his shop, not really, but that didn’t matter.  Emma would believe him, and he could pass on what he knew without having to tip his hat.  He certainly couldn’t direct her to Henry’s book and the story of Hansel and Gretel.

“You sold it?”

“It was in far better condition a dozen years ago.  It comes as no surprise that a ten year old doesn’t value antiques.”  It was an elegant piece, though, and not the first time he’d seen it.  It was the first time he’d held it in this world, but Mr. Gold had a memory of it.

“Would you have any records about who bought it?” she asked hopefully.

“I can do you one better.  My memory, especially as it applies to such pieces, is very good.  And lucky for us the man who bought this from me is still in town.”  He almost laughed.  Everyone was still in town.  Well everyone except that one unfortunate father and son, but that was years ago.  “In fact you’ve met him.  It’s an interesting circle, don’t you think, that Michael Tillman brought you back to town when Henry was missing and now you might be watching his children to keep them from leaving town?”

“Tillman bought the compass?”  She frowned as she looked at the kids.  He wondered if she was trying to remember the mechanic’s face and if any traits were familiar.

“He was rather fond of camping and hiking, if I remember correctly.”  He was more fond of being able to find his way home through the sometimes tricky woods with a cart of lumber.  Now he didn’t even know what he should be looking for.

“I’ll go see him in the morning.”  A burst of laughter came from the counter area and they both looked over to see all three children bent over the cookie dough where something amused them all.  Emma, watching them, smiled.  He wondered if she had a clue how much she looked like Henry when she smiled freely.

“I wish you luck.”

II

The only good thing she could say about Monday was that there was a new edition of the Mirror and she no longer had to walk past racks with her own face staring back at her.

“I’ll take another,” she said, pushing her cocoa mug across the counter when Granny walked past.

“Two cocoas in a row?  Must be a bad day.”  Mary Margaret slid onto the bar stool next to her.  “Want to talk about it?”

“It’s not the cocoa so much as it’s the cinnamon whiskey in the cocoa.”  Which was why a second was a bad idea.  “Hold the shot, Granny.”

“Two cocoas with cinnamon but no whiskey coming up,” Granny said, looking at Mary Margaret and waiting for her to nod her head.  

“Thank you Granny.”  Mary Margaret folded her hands neatly in her lap.  “Is this about Graham? I heard he has a clean bill of health and he’s already back on the job.”

“This is about Nicholas and Ava Zimmer.”  She’d run a search on Dory Zimmer, and found no relatives.  Other than Tillman there didn’t seem to be anyone for the kids.

“Still haven’t found any family for them?”  Mary Margaret frowned.

“Just because you find family doesn’t mean they want to be found.  You get these fantasies, when you’re a kid in foster care, about your real family.  I think most kids had them.  That someone was going to show up one day, your parents, maybe an aunt if your parents were dead.  And they were going to want you.  Files had gotten mixed up, or you’d been stolen from them, and it was all a mistake.  They’d been searching for you.   And everything would change because you’d be out of the system and instead of being a way for someone to earn a few bucks you’d be in a home with your family.”  She’d waited for sixteen years for her parents to show up.  She’d spent more years as an adult looking for them before deciding that they didn’t care enough to be found.  “But that’s all it is, a fantasy.  Biology doesn’t make you a parent. It doesn’t mean you’re willing to make space in your life for your kids when the only other option sucks.”

“Maybe he just needs time?”  Mary Margaret reached out and rested his hand over Emma’s.  “It must have been a shock finding out that he has kids he never knew about.”

“I don’t have time to let him get used to it.  The Mayor wants me to take the kids to Boston tonight.  She’s arranged for homes.  Two of them.”  It was weird how hands on she was about the case, but Emma assumed it was another one of her power plays, like the newspaper article.  “Once they separate the kids they might never get a home together.”

“The system is meant to help them.”

“That’s just another fairy tale.”  Emma’s shoulder slumped as she reached for the hot cocoa.  Her hands were warm but the warmth did little for her heart.  She had a long drive ahead of her and a couple of hearts she could break but couldn’t mend.

II

“They can’t leave dad.  Something bad’s going to happen.”  Henry stood in the middle of the street as if ready to run after the yellow bug that was already out of reach.  Gold assumed that Emma could see him in the rear view mirror if she was looking.  It wouldn’t be any easier to see than the children in the back of the car.  “We have to stop her.”

“We have to trust her.”  If he knew Emma she had at least one plan up her sleeve.  He desperately hoped so.  He’d paid a visit of his own to Michael Tillman, though he couldn’t risk being too bold about it.  He’d simply mentioned a cottage that he’d recently decided to rent out, a small place on the edge of the forest.  It needed work, and he’d wondered if Tillman knew of anyone good with their hands that might take a reduced rent in return for repairs.  It was a seed planted.

“The curse, dad.  People get hurt if they try to leave.  What if Emma gets hurt and is in a coma like her dad?  What if she…”  Henry turned and buried his face in Gold’s vest, unable to finish the sentence.  Gold wrapped one arm around him.

“It will be alright, my lad.  It will.”  If the universe made a liar of him he would hunt someone down and hurt them.

“I don’t want her to go.”  Henry’s voice was muffled,  Gold gave him one more squeeze and led him over to one of the benches that lined the street.  While Henry might believe in the curse Gold suspected it was a lot less real then the idea of losing the woman he’d only recently found.  

“Emma is a part of our lives now.  Whatever else happens, that’s not something that’s going to change.  She has chosen to be here, just like I chose to bring you into my home when you were just a wee little thing.  It’s the choosing that makes you family, Henry.  Choosing to open yourself up to loving someone and letting them love you.”  It was a choice he’d made only a few times in centuries, and every time had brought so much pain that he’d closed himself off again.  But it was the memories of love he carried with him, above all else.  Bae.  Belle.  Henry.

“Do you think my biological dad loves me?  Nicholas and Ava’s dad doesn’t want them.”  Henry was close at his side, and in the dim street lighting it was hard to make out his expression.

“I can���t imagine him doing anything other than loving you.”  He didn’t like to think too much on the man that clearly hadn’t stuck around long enough to know his son, or to help Emma when she was in trouble.  “But I can tell you for certain that this dad loves you very much.”

“I love you too, dad.”  Henry held tight to his arm and didn’t ask any more questions.  Minutes passed, and then almost half an hour.  Gold was about to suggest that they go home to wait someplace a little warmer when a familiar yellow car turned the corner.

“Look what I see, son.”

“Emma.”  Henry jumped up from the bench at a speed Gold wouldn’t be able to match even if his knee wasn’t aching from the cold, and waited at the edge of the sidewalk for Emma to park the car.  “You’re back.”

“My engine stalled just before I hit the town limits and I had to call for a tow again.  Lucky for me the problem seemed to go away; maybe it was because I had two less people in the car.”  She leaned against the car and grinned down at Henry.  “Ava and Nicholas will see you at school tomorrow.  They’re on their way home with their dad.”

“You did it.  You changed things.”  Henry’s hug was more enthusiastic than the one he’d gotten, but he was glad to share.  The smile on Henry’s face was worth it.  “And you’re back.”

“I was always going to come back, kid.  I live here, remember?  I’ve got a job and everything.”  She touched the badge on her waist.  When she looked over at Gold she nodded; he knew she understood that Henry needed the reminder that she was settling down.  “Speaking of my job I need to head home and get some sleep.  I have paperwork to fill out tomorrow and I promised Graham I’d pick him up one donut on my way in.”

Gold was about to make a wry comment when an engine revved and a motorcycle came down the street.  No one in town had a motorcycle.  Gold didn’t have to wait for the man to park and take off his helmet to know that he was a stranger.

Strangers didn’t come to Storybrooke. He could count the number that had on one hand.

“Is this Storybrooke?”  Gold’s stomach tightened.  It didn’t sound like an honest question.  He would bet anything that the stranger knew exactly where he was.

“Yeah,” Emma said, head cocked to one side as she examined him.  Gold hoped she was suitably wary.

“Any place to get a room around here?” 

 “You’re staying?”  Henry was just as curious but not as leery.  Gold hoped it was the motorcycle and not the man that had caught his son’s interest.

“Thought I might, for a while at least.  It’s as good a place as any.”

“Granny’s Bed and Breakfast is just up the road – another two blocks.”  Emma pointed down the road.

“Thank you.”  After putting his helmet back on the stranger headed down the road.  Gold was certain it wasn’t the last they’d see of him, though he wouldn’t mind if the widow Lucas hung the ‘no vacancy’ sign on her door.

“Stranger in town, haven’t seen that yet.”  Emma watched until the motorcycle was out of sight.  “Guess that’s what happens when you live someplace so far off the beaten path.”

“No one come here.  It’s the curse.”  Once again Gold marveled at just how clever his boy was, and how much he’d worked out about the curse and the people from his book.

“Sure kid.”  Emma slung an arm around Henry.  “Want to ride home with me or your dad?”

“Is it okay if I go with Emma?” Henry asked predictably.  Gold nodded.  He followed a minute later, but stopped in front of the diner to stare at the now parked motorcycle, fairly normal looking except for the box on the back.  There was a light on in one of Granny’s upper windows.  The stranger had found a room for the night.

Gold headed home.  Emma was on the phone, and from what he could hear she was talking to Graham.  Henry was getting ready for bed, the dalek back on the bookcase, book already waiting on his pillow.  The sleeping back Nicholas had used the night before was rolled up neatly in the corner, waiting to be put away now that it wasn’t needed.

“Can we read a chapter together?” Henry flopped down on his bed.  “Hades is in this part and you have the best Hades voice.”

“Of course.”  He sat at the end of the bed and waited for his son to settle, then picked up the book and started to read like he had thousands of times before.  Not everything had to change.  Some things were good as they were.

[bmwiid]

It’s that time of day when I become a tea blogger again! Tonight is my 2nd best tea. I’ve been saving this one because the first tea I blogged (The one with beetroot in it) was my fave and I didn’t want to have two faves back to back so... here!

This has: Camomile flowers, lemon balm, lavender, lindenflower, rose flavouring, jasmine petals and Valerian root. I personally think that anything with valerian root in it is a potion, should cost 50 gold and be only sold by slightly odd shop vendors in a far flung city where I’m trying to make my way as an adventurer... but I digress. 

I think this tea is actually magic though. Maybe it’s association, but I even smell the packet as I open it and feel more relaxed. 

It, like most of the Sainsburys tea I’m trying, has an infusion time of 5 to 10 minutes, which seems to be a sweet spot for me as longer infusions seem to get a little bitter after a while. I aim for about 5 to 6 minutes which is on the shorter side but it works for me and I like the result. 

I add honey to this. I keep saying that I plan on cutting down the honey but I never do. I don’t know why I lie to the internet. No one actually cares if I put honey in my tea. 

Now, this is strong on the camomile. It’s def the first thing you smell and taste. Then you have the lavender and a little (tiny) hint of lemon. I’m very sensitive to rose because of my neverending desire for Turkish delight, so I taste this clearly - probably more than the lemon. 

I don’t really know what lindenflower tastes like, but I’ve (just) read that it’s popular in France and can be used to help congestion, as well as a mild sedative. That would explain the being in this tea, then. 

I feel a bit like a fraud because although mum believes that herbs, essential oils and healing crystals are good for you (don’t worry, she’s also bang up beside actual medicine too, I’ve had my vaccinations, thank you) I legit don’t think that a herb helps you get over the cold. Or improves your blood pressure or does anything other than be a herb and taste pretty damn good. So when I drink this I’m like... I’m falling for the power of persuasion and snake oil and cannot possibly be sleepy!

Then I yawn. 

I DO feel relaxed drinking this. I DO get sleepy half way through a mug. I DO think it improves my sleep and helps me drift off faster and I HATE that I think this. 

However, I have to say, I think it works. I would honestly be that person who would say to someone: Have you tried this tea to help you sleep? 

(as a person with a fucked up sleep schedule I HATE PEOPLE WHO DO THIS. I don’t want to try your stupid tea, or soothing pillow spray or lavender lotion. I want to be unconscious for 8 hours please. piss off and leave me alone) 

But yeah, bedtime tea. Also, I think the fact that all of these are like, caffeine free is probably why I’m getting sleepy early. However, this also means that my focus at night is FUUUUUCKED because caffeine is the only thing that stops my brain jumping off the walls in 140 different directions. 

(also I keep waking up around 3 to 5am with the WORST HEADACHES known to man. Is this caffeine withdrawal?)

This is my 2nd favorite tea and the one that I would most recommend to other people because it sounds less weird than the one with beetroot in it. That one just sounds stupid, despite the fact it’s fucking amazing.

I don’t think I’ll be a tea blogger forever because I only have like 5 teas and they come in boxes of 20 so it’s going to take me ages to get through these ones. 

Can you buy individual teabags? is that a thing? to like, test what you like and dislike? I feel like that would be pretty cool. Also, I only really drink like one or two cups a day so it’s not like I’m getting through these quickly.

I’d better go to bed though. 

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 12: Not So Great Expectations

Chapters: 12/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: Mentions of fear of sexual assault, blood, depression Relationships: Loki x Reader (But not yet) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Thor (Marvel), OFC, Andsvarr Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending, Reader is Still a Paranoid Conspiracy Theorist, Loki Tries, He Really Does Try Summary: The reality of Readers situation begins to catch up. As isolation and uncertainty begin to prey on Reader’s mind, Loki attempts to mitigate the situation with healthy activities. It doesn’t go as planned.

Days passed into weeks, but you never found your balance. Still being swept along, you attended history lessons, magical training, and regular check-ins. Everything blended into a blur, however, and you found it increasingly difficult to concentrate.

The pranks continued, small and unpredictable. Talking breakfast foods that left little messages from Loki, Andsvarr, or Saldis. Magical alarms playing out of thin air, to wake you in the mornings. Clothes that tickled you without warning. And always, more snakes.

They weren’t malevolent, but they were always unexpected, always startling and stressing you out.

There were still no more new books, so you read and re-read the few you had. The history and astronomy books were useful and educational, helping you understand your lessons, as well as the country you now lived in. The mythology book however, still caused distress and distrust in you, and the book of Shakespeare’s tragedies was even worse on your fraying mind. Nothing but gods and royalty being the worst they could be, as if it were normal.

You should have stopped reading them, but there was nothing else to read. With nothing to do, your thoughts ran in circles, spiraling down into ever darker places.

Both Loki and Brunnhilde became much busier as the weeks passed; your lessons ended up trickling off, leaving you bored and idle. For a while, you tried drawing to keep yourself busy, but the works showed the lack of vitality you now felt, and you eventually gave them up.

It was becoming harder to get out of bed. It wasn’t that you were getting sick again, just that you were sleeping more and more. It began to feel like that was the only way to make time actually move forward. Sometimes entire days went by without you sharing more than a handful of words with another living being. You still weren’t allowed to go outside.

What little time Loki did have for you was filled with exhausting magical lessons, which would have been impersonal and cold, save for his continued, perhaps increased tendency to get touchy-feely without asking.

Maybe he didn’t mean anything by it. Maybe that’s just how he was. Maybe he was just trying to make you feel like you belonged, despite all the stares you got whenever you left your bare, little room.

All it did was make you feel like he was prepping you for something terrible.

Everything around you smelled like him; his soap, his shampoo, whatever it was they washed your clothes with. You hadn’t worn anything that wasn’t green, black, or gold for almost a month.

You couldn’t confide in the Valkyrie; she was far too busy. There were new Valkyries now, and their training was taking up all her time. You couldn’t talk to Saldis or Andsvarr either; they were subjects of the monarchy, and unlikely to take your fears seriously.

So you were left mostly alone, spiraling down, and no one taking notice.

Days and nights passed, but the sun stopped setting, and you could no longer tell them apart. You should have found it amazing, but you only felt numb, with the occasional spike of anxiety.

Even your dreams were mostly empty, save for a pulsing blue light.

It gave you headaches.

                                                                                      *****

“Andsvarr, give me your honest opinion.” Loki said, just outside his quarters. “Do you think something is wrong with _____?”

“Wrong, your Highness?” The young guard asked, looking back at the closed door, as if he could see you behind it. “What kind of wrong? She doesn’t seem ill, but she’s been very…withdrawn? She doesn’t talk much anymore. I used to hear her singing when she was alone in there, but she hasn’t done it in a while. Come to think of it, she hasn’t asked for any food today…”

“Hm. Well we can’t have that. Bjarkhild will have my scalp if I don’t make her eat.”

“I think she is lonely, sire. She hasn’t left here for days, and she has no visitors. Saldis can’t ever stay long, and I can’t leave my post.”

“And I have been far too busy to pay her proper attention, hmm?”

Andsvarr faltered. “I-I would never say-“

“Hush. You’re not wrong. I have been busy. Did you know the builders found a series of subterranean chambers running under the city? They’re left over from lava floes, I’m told. They will be very useful, once fully mapped out and explored, but planning and regulation has been eating up most of my time. I wonder if she would like to see them?”

“She would probably like to do anything at all, my prince.”

“Hm. You are probably right. I’ll be right back with a meal. Our human musn’t be allowed to go hungry, after all.”

He returned with a tray of food, artistically arranged, with little radish and carrot flowers.

“I think this will cheer her up.”

Andsvarr grinned in approval and opened the door.

                                                                                      *****

 Loki had returned, after what seemed like an eternity away, just barging right into your room as if he owned the place. Well, he did. It wasn’t yours; he’d told you that on day one. The bed, the books, the clothes, none of this was yours. You had nothing.

He noticed you curled up in bed, though it was late in the day, and set the tray he was carrying down on the desk. You scrambled out of bed, loathe to make it easy for him to overtake you there, if he had finally decided to do so.

“Did I interrupt your nap?” He asked. God, he seemed to fill the room.  “My apologies. I hear you may have forgotten lunch, so I have taken care of that.” He gestured at the tray. “Enjoy.”

You stared at him silently, but he did not move. When it became clear he was not going to leave until you had eaten, you slouched over to the chair, and stared out the window, rather than look at him.

It raised the hair on your neck, knowing he was just looming behind you, watching you eat. He had provided you all your favorites, had made the meal beautiful to look at. You briefly wondered if you were supposed to eat the little vegetable flowers, deciding to do it anyway. You were a peasant, after all: food couldn’t go to waste.

You glanced at the window again, to see his reflection, faint against the neverending sunlight. Like a ghost, he stared down at you, hands behind his back, a self-satisfied smirk crossing his face. You looked away again, unsettled.

He leaned on the desk after you finished eating.

“Was it to your liking?” He asked. When his hand caressed your arm, it was so unexpected that you gasped and pulled away.

You hadn’t done that before. He drew his hand back, brows coming together in concern.

“Are you all right? Oh, have I truly neglected you so badly that you have forgotten me?” He joked. “Greetings _____, I am Loki, Crown Prince of Asgard. It is a great pleasure to meet you.”

He took your hand, and brought it to his lips. You yanked it away and turned your back.

“I’m s-sorry.” You stammered. It was horrible how much you had missed him, while still being so afraid of his ultimate intentions. “I’m just…not in the mood?”

Damnit, now you needed to work on your own phrasing.

You heard the door open and close quietly. When you finally turned around, both he and the tray were gone. You sighed in combined relief and regret. The room seemed so much emptier now.

So much safer.

                                                                        *****

 “Thor!” Loki exclaimed, rushing into their favored dining room. “I need to know how to make a Midgardian woman happy!”

Thor jumped up from his seat, a big, goofy grin overtaking his face.

“Brother-“ He began, opening his arms. Loki held up his hands to ward him off.

“Ugh, not like that! It’s _____, something is wrong with her. She seems distressed. I think she’s been forgetting to eat. I just brought her lunch, and she acted like she’d never seen me before! I haven’t been that distant, have I?”

He paced. “I know I’ve been busy these past weeks. Perhaps I should have made time. Well, what would you do?” He entreated his brother. No one else here had experience with human women.

“Making time is a good start.” Thor said, still smiling, but a little more serious.

Good, Loki thought. This is serious.

“She will want to know she hasn’t been forgotten. This is doubly important for someone in her position. Most other people, if you forget or neglect them, they can just leave. _____ is stuck, no matter how we treat her. So it becomes our responsibility to do a little extra for her sake.”

“My responsibility.” Loki said.

“I’m sure we can share. Take a little of the burden off of you.”

“Not necessary. I can handle this.”

“Oh, I see. Well, in that case, I would start setting aside time to spend with her, or time that she can spend with others. Just make sure she isn’t always alone. You and I both know what that can do to a person’s mind. If you want to take care of this all by yourself, then I suggest you take her outside. Show her the countryside, perhaps even take her into a town. If I’m remembering correctly, she is from a small town, yes? Full of farmers?”

“So she says. So you think she requires walking?”

“Loki…”

“Joking. Perhaps she likes horses?”

“That is a good train of thought. Follow that. After all we can’t have her…getting sick again?” He asked, trying to gauge Loki’s investment in your happiness.

“Exactly.” Loki said, just a little too fast. “That would be a disaster. I will make some plans then, try to squeeze in some _____-time between meetings.”

“Perfect. I’m sure she will be appreciative.” The brothers sat down to eat, Loki scheming, Thor still grinning, but not pushing any further. As far as he was concerned, everything was now on the right track.

                                                                                *****

Over the next few days, the little pranks changed rather drastically in nature. The ephemeral alarms changed from ringing to birdsong. There were no longer snakes in the bath; they had been replaced by water lilies. Perfume rose from your footsteps, and occasionally, flower petals rained down on you. The implications weren’t lost on you, but after reading Titus Andronicus for the tenth time, and revisiting the entries on Zeus’ many ‘conquests’, it only left a hollow little pit in your stomach.

Never be dependent on a man, you had told yourself, over and over. Not after the last time. And yet here you were again. Trapped. Utterly trapped.

Today’s  breakfast was beautiful. Eggs on toast. Strawberries, sliced, looking like little hearts. Skyr with lingonberry, which you adored. Little flower-shaped melon slices, and grapes. And the fish oil, of course, but you were getting used to that. The trick was to drink it first, and then follow it immediately with a drink of something else.

Today’s dress was also something special. It was much heavier than normal, a thick, plush wool, all green, sleeves gathered at the elbows, with diagonal pintucks all the way down the forearm, ending in asymmetrical hems at the wrist.

Well, that was Loki all over.

There was a full cloak, also green, with fur trim, and a golden yellow horse embroidered on the back. It had far too many legs, but you had read something about this. Odin’s horse, mentioned in passing in your mythology book, was supposed to have twice the normal number of horse legs.

Upon closer observation you noticed that, yes, this cloak was older than the dress, and had been hemmed to your height. You wondered who it had belonged to previously.

Such warm clothing. You could guess at what that meant, though you hardly dared hope.

Loki actually knocked this time, only entering when you said so. He too, was dressed warmly and finely. He paused a moment to take you in. He seemed pleased with what he saw, and you resisted the urge to back away from him.

“Ah, good. You’re dressed. That suits you very well. You may have surmised by now that we are going on a trip outside. If not; surprise, we are going on a trip outside. Tell me, do you like horses?”

Back home, there had been a woman who ran a farm mostly by herself. It was rumored that she was gay, but you didn’t care. As a child, all that mattered was that she had horses, and she was very nice to all the kids, and she taught you all how to ride the horses. She’d moved away very suddenly, years ago.

You nodded. “Yeah, horses are good. I can ride, if that’s what you mean.”

“Glad to hear it! Come with me. We shall go out riding.”

That sounded very nice; a simple ride through town-or what there was of it. You eagerly followed him, as he retrieved a cloth-wrapped bundle and lead you out of the Main Building. It wasn’t exactly what you would call a castle or palace, but you weren’t sure what to call a city hall that also housed rulers.

On the East side of the building, where you had never yet been, was a very large yard full of tiny flowers, purple and white. Under the undying sun, they flourished. Oh, to be like these flowers again!

To walk among the vast cornfields of home, to be in a garden, to even have just your houseplants again!

After what felt like so long stuck inside, bored, idle, and paranoid, being outside, with the noise, the air, the sun, the colors; it was a little overwhelming, and very exciting.

The stables held a variety of horses, and stablehands, who looked at you warily and gripped their tools a bit tighter. Loki said something to them, sending them all back to their business, and, aside from a few curious stares, they no longer seemed to care that you were there.

Loki’s horse was huge, black, elegant and beautiful, because of course it was. The horse you were introduced to was not exactly beautiful, but she was very cute. Small and stocky, extra fuzzy, with a short, shaggy mane. She was friendly, and accepted you with a placid manner; all the better, since it had been years since you had ridden, and needed to get the feel for it again.

Side by side, though very different in height, you both wandered through the city. People stopped to observe their prince and his strange guest as you passed. You briefly wondered how often Asgardian royalty had to deal with things like rebellions or assassination attempts. Loki had brought no guards with him, not even Andsvarr. He was either very secure in the belief that his people loved him, or very secure in the belief that he could handle anything thrown at him.

He steered you into one of the less finished parts of town; full of skeletal buildings, and empty homes. The further you went, the less developed the land became, just disturbed earth and roads marked with sticks and string. Before you knew it, you were passing the perimeter fence, and meandering into the countryside.

The beauty of the landscape was enthralling. Mountains rose in the distance, the low vegetation bursting with flowers. Before you knew it, the city had disappeared behind you, and the two of you were lost amidst the rugged terrain.

Loki stopped you near a copse of pine trees-the first real trees you had seen since coming here- and helped you dismount. Confused as to why you were stopping, you watched as he dismantled the bundle and laid it out: a blanket, and a basket of food.

A blanket on the ground, near the only trees in the area. Far from the city, where no one could see you or hear you. Where no one could come to your aid. The pit in your stomach opened up again, deeper than ever before.

So this was it, then? This was when he would take you? You sucked in a shuddering breath, fists clenched as he set out plates and little portions of fruits and cheeses. He was even humming softly to himself, not even seeming to notice you trying to steel yourself to the oncoming horrors.

He patted the blanket next to him. What could you do? You couldn’t run. You couldn’t leave. All you could do right now was sit.

He handed you a plate, gazing gently down at you. It chilled your blood. But it seemed he was going to let you eat first. Perhaps you could just eat really, really slowly.

Maybe it would go easier for you if you just focused on his good points? He did have them, after all. He was incredibly beautiful, for one. Of course you had noticed. Graceful and regal, and he always presented himself very well. He kept clean and well-groomed, and he always smelled nice.

Yes, think of that. Think of how clever he was, how much he knew and had seen. How strong he was, how powerful. How easily he could lift you up. Or pin you down.

No, don’t think of that.

Think of his sense of humor, and how softly he touched you. Maybe you could convince him to be gentle?

“Are you cold? You’re shaking. Here, do you need my cloak?” He draped it across your shoulders, placing his arms around you casually. Finally, your temper caught up with your fear.

You reared up on your knees, throwing off the cloak and scattering your plate of fruit and cheese, little fist cocked back.

Oh, he would never be gentle with you now.

Before you could throw the punch, something struck you in the back, sharp like a rock or a hornet. It stung terribly. Were there hornets in Iceland?

You fell into Loki’s arms, pain spreading through your back. Something slid free from your flesh to thump on the ground. Loki drew his hand from your back with a gasp. It was red.

What was going on? What just happened?

Why did you hurt?

A shape broke free of the trees, a person in a camouflaged cloak and hood. It raced past both of you, threw itself on your little horse, and rode the startled animal away at top speed.

Loki shook himself from his shock and flung his hand out at the retreating figure. You saw a flash in the eternal sun-a blade.

No, it might hit the horse!

You threw your own hand up, as if to catch it, though it was much too late for that. Power sizzled through you, out of you, like an extension of your own arm. It grasped the flying blade, and pulled it back to its sender.

“What are you doing?” Loki hissed. “What did you do? They are escaping!”

“H-horsie…” You whispered. The power swirled in your head, leaving you dizzy. It almost seemed to whisper.

Learn me. Learn me. Learn me.

You collapsed entirely in Loki’s grasp.

                                                                          *****

 Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn! This was supposed to be a scenic picnic! This was supposed to make you smile! Now you were bleeding and senseless in his arms, and you had expended your very first act of independent magic on preventing him from bringing justice upon your assailant.

He should have been able to praise you. To show off what you’d done. There was no time. He took the knife, and hefted you in his arms. There was no catching up to the escaping miscreant now; it was far more important to get you to safety.

Imagine! Defying Crown justice for the sake of a horse! At least you understood the value of such a beast.

It was a good thing that mortals were all so light, and his own horse more than strong enough. The ride back seemed to take an excruciating length of time. Why had he chosen a place so far from safety? There were places closer to home that were equally beautiful, what fool would go so far with no escort?

The berating didn’t stop when he returned to the city, nor when he turned you over to Bjarkehild, nor when he explained to person after person what had happened, and especially not when he was finally left alone with his own thoughts.

Who was that cloaked person, and why had he not sensed their presence? Why attack you?

That was a real hang up. You were a mere mortal, absolutely harmless. As far as he understood, you had never given anyone cause to hurt you. Even your occasional explosions of temper were ultimately innoxious, even endearing. That might just be because you were unable to hurt him, no matter how hard you punched, but he couldn’t imagine any person whose face had met your fist would hate you enough for it to hunt you all the way here and try to assassinate you.

What if you were not the target, but him? You had reared up for some reason, very suddenly, right before the knife struck. Had you sensed danger? Had you been just about to tell him? Had you been trying to protect him?

Foolish, little, weak, human idiot! If that was the case, he would lock you away in your room, and only let you out with a full contingent of guards around you at all times. He would keep you safe, no matter what it took. He had given his word, and he meant to keep it this time.

“Your Highness.” Bjarkehild said gently, shattering his spinning thoughts.

“Yes? What? How is she? Let me see her!” He demanded.

“Your highness.” She repeated firmly, holding her hands up to halt him. Her hands were clean, he noticed. That was a good sign.

“She is going to be fine. The knife hit at an angle; whoever threw it was either unlucky, or unskilled. The cut was deep, but it is just that-a cut. The blade did not even clear her ribs. She sleeps only because the combination of sudden injury and magic fatigue hit her hard. She will recover swiftly. As always with her kind, she must simply rest.”

Loki relaxed the slightest bit. You were safe now. Now was time to hunt. Now was time for revenge.

[dailydoseofdelightfuldiarie-blog]

Riding the Wave

I just want to say that I am at one of the most difficult points of my young life so far. I want to document this so I never forget it.

This isn’t a note of negativity. This isn’t a wish list or a complaint. This is almost a thank you note; something to express how grateful I am to learn these lessons now while I am so young.

It is April 21, 2017, and I am sitting in my cozy room with an oversized Beatles sweater on, about to crawl into bed at 11:51 AM after a sleepless night. This has been a very difficult week, filled with tension and slow moving progress. I fell ill after spring break and fought a head cold. Luckily, it wasn’t horrible but I was congested and woke up dehydrated with a headache almost everyday. It was Senior Week at American Heritage, and as happy as I am for all my friends, it saddened me to see all the photos of smooth success. Out one car door, into another; meanwhile I am arranging my entire future on my own, signing and faxing papers, organizing my own app for associates at FIU, and trying desperately hard to finish slow moving work. To demonstrate this week more specifically, I am Atrayu walking in the Swamp of Sadness from The Neverending Story. That was this week.

Yesterday was April 20, my parents’ ex wedding anniversary. It is a hollow feeling. It was a long, shallow, boring day. However, I did accomplish one thing; I finished a history exam. One class complete! That felt good. The rest of the hours passed by in slow motion. I felt increasingly lonely and missed Heritage more than probably ever before. The nostalgia and aching is getting bad because it’s end of senior year, and I am seeing my class say goodbye in a flurry of fun while I work till my head spins and my stomach aches from not eating. But like I said, it’s a blessing in disguise. I am working so hard and my hard work will pay off. I am working and investing towards a future I can edit to fit my needs and my happiness. There is so much to look forward to. I always, always remind myself of that. Anyway, yesterday was 4/20 and my parents aren’t a thing anymore. Oh, and I didn’t smoke weed.

Today is April 21, the infamous grad bash. I’m most likely going to Orlando next weekend for a Disney VIP day and Universal, but it isn’t the same as a classic school field trip with coach buses and friends. I wish so much to be there. I knew that this day would hurt when I switched to homeschooling. I stayed up all night so that I could sleep in the rest of this day and avoid thinking about it. I have to sleep off the heavy feelings of this week. All my friends are at grad bash, I am at home with my school classes locked, and my parents are in their attorneys’ office fighting over an increasingly nasty divorce. I am not going to lie to myself, this is a very challenging point in my life. I still don’t think it beats 2016, but I can say confidently that this week was the hardest in 2017 so far. Once again, that’s okay. It’s all okay. There are so many beautiful memories and experiences to come. Hard weeks will happen. Sadness will happen. Regret will happen. Nostalgia will happen. Days where I crawl back into bed will happen. Tomorrow the sun will shine and music will play loud and clear. I’ll continue to submit assignments and make my move. One day at a time. Embrace the bad days to make for the good days. 

I’m just riding this wave.