#rowyn replies

[moiraineswife]

Today is a wonderful day to appreciate yourself, you know? Sometimes you just need to step aside to contemplate what you've already achieved and to be proud of it. You're wonderful, so drink some water to celebrate it.

Also, I'm really sorry I didn't send this earlier, apologies are in order <3

Thank you @witchingshcdows ^_^ you have a good day and drink some water too!!!!

[alteregozowie]

"Hello."

"My name is Rowyn. I see that you are a deer demon like me. It's very nice to meet you."

"Oh?" Goodness, he supposed she was! "Well hello there, my dear! Been here long?"

[when-jaguars-are-sick]

COLIN: Logical Steps

Okay, here we go. This is my first proper fic, featuring a sick Colin and caretaker Rowyn. 😮‍💨

(migraine, emeto)

------

Rowyn finishes wiping the last table at the cafe, having just ended his shift at 10:00. He quickly finishes up his manager duties and drives back home, eager to have dinner, and see Colin. His stomach growls as he drives, reminding him he hasn’t eaten for almost 10 hours.

He walks in the front door, expecting the usual raucous greetings. It’s dead silent. He looks around in confusion, gently setting his bag down. He passes the kitchen, poking his head into the living room. He finds Jamie curled up on one of the armchairs, reading a book, with Apple snuggled into his side. He looks up when Rowyn walks in.

“Hey Rowyn,” he whispers.

“Hi… Why are we whispering? Where is everyone?”

“Everyone’s here. Colin seemed off, so we’re having a quiet night.”

“Shit, is he okay?!” Apple has made it to his side by now, and is rubbing against his leg. Despite his worry, he leans down with a half-smile, stroking hand down Apple’s back, before scooping her up. He takes her back over to Jamie, as he listens to his response.

“He didn’t say much. Kinda got home from work and locked himself in your room.”

“Fuck, okay, thanks. I’m gonna go check on him.”

He gives Apple one more pet, scratching under her chin for a moment as she purrs loudly, before turning away.

“Of course! Oh, and there’s dinner in the fridge for you.” Jamie pulls Apple back towards him when she tries to run after her, and he kisses her head, snuggling her to his chest, as he turns back to his book.

“Thanks Jamie, that’s great.”

“Hey,” he says, having a sudden thought, and Rowyn looks back, “Let me know what’s going on?”

Rowyn nods and turns down the hallway, slipping into his and Colin’s room. When the light from the hallway pierces the darkness of the room, he hears a whine, and he winces, quickly closing the door. He gently sits next to the boyfriend-shaped lump on the bed. Colin groans, but shifts closer, almost instinctively.

Despite knowing that Colin’s miserable, Rowyn’s heart skips a beat at the knowledge that his presence brings some comfort to Colin, even semi-conscious. 

As his eyes adjust to the darkness, he sees Colin gripping his hair with his hands, curled in on himself under the blanket. Colin shifts in his direction, squinting up at him, and whining when the action causes his head to pulse with a stabbing pain.

Okay, he thinks, He’s having a migraine. That I can help with. Working through problems is something Rowyn’s good at, so even though Colin’s in pain, he knows he can help. 

Rowyn takes his shoes off, so he can walk more quietly, and whispers “Babe, I’ll be right back, kay?”

“Mmm” is the only reply he gets, which he takes to mean “Yeah, but be quick.”

He updates Jamie, and grabs some ibuprofen, water, and a cloth soaked in cool water. He turns off the hall light, and sneaks back into his room. He settles his hand on Colin’s head, crouching on the floor. Colin sighs, sounding a touch more content.

He starts to sit up, and Rowyn grabs his shoulder, helping him settle on the headboard, with his hands still clutching his head. Colin keeps his eyes squeezed closed the whole time, so he startles slightly when he feels a glass being pressed into his hand.

“Sorry” whispers Rowyn, handing him the pills. As he swallows them, one of his hands shifts to his belly, and Rowyn pulls the trashcan closer to the bed, Just in case, he tells himself.

Colin settles back down on the bed, and Rowyn grabs the damp cloth, laying it across his forehead, where the pain is usually centered. As it makes contact with his skin, Colin lets out a small sigh of relief, and a weight lifts from Rowyn’s shoulders, knowing he’s making it better.

Even though he’s helped Colin with migraines before, this one seems particularly bad and he’s unsure what exactly he should do, now that he’s addressed the symptoms. Colin seems comforted by his presence, but if sounds and light are hurting him, maybe being touched would too? He twists his hands in front of him, debating his next move, faced with uncertainty now that he’s through the logical steps. 

As if sensing his indecision, Colin mutters “Ro…” and gestures at him to stay there, squinting up at him. “Stay?” Rowyn’s secretly pleased at this development, and he slides onto the bed next to him, glad that his presence is that comforting to Colin.

He wants to say something to Colin, but he’s afraid of causing pain when he doesn’t have to, so he snaps his mouth closed, and considers other ways he can help. Could he offer any physical comfort? Of course, then he’s back to his initial concern of what if that doesn’t help? But then again, Colin asked him to stay. Does that mean it would help? He lets out a tiny sigh, and Colin responds with a tiny, pained chuckle. “M’okay, Ro, not… gonna break,” he mumbles, fighting through the pain.

Rowyn recognizes the irony of Colin comforting him, when he’s the one in excruciating pain. He rolls his eyes at his own indecision, and moves a hand up to Colin’s head, where he gently pries his hands out of his hair, replacing them with his own. He runs his hand through his sweaty hair once, hearing a gentle sigh of relief at the motion. He continues his soothing ministrations, even when Colin curls up tighter with a nearly unnoticeable groan of pain.

All of a sudden, a loud rumble stirs up the quiet of the room, and Colin mutters in pain.

“Whatzzat?” he asks, in a whisper.

Rowyn cringes to himself before answering “My stomach. Haven’t had dinner yet.”

“Go eat. I’ll be fine.” instructs Colin, before Ro can protest.

Rowyn pauses for a moment, brows furrowing in concern. Is this a reflection of his caretaking? Did he do something wrong? He shakes his head against this train of thought. He might be clueless when it comes to emotional support and ‘bedside manners’, but he’s not entirely clueless. He’s made all the logical decisions, and done everything he could. If Colin’s asking him to leave, it’s out of concern, not anything else.

Disgruntled, but relieved nonetheless, Rowyn makes his way to the kitchen, quickly heating up the stir fry left in the fridge for him, before devouring it equally as fast. Apple follows him back to his room, and meows grumpily when she’s not allowed in.

When Rowyn enters the bedroom again, his heart falls, hearing a grating retch coming from Colin, accompanied by a quiet whimper of pain. His worry now outweighs every other emotion, and instead of logic, for once he simply follows his boyfriend instincts.

He hurries across the room, dropping next to Colin on the bed, whispering “I’m right here, babe. You’ll be okay.”

He rests one hand on Colin’s back, and holds the garbage can with the other. Colin pants for a minute, whimpering slightly, before he’s pushed forward with another heave. His dry-heaves are the only sound heard for a solid few minutes, before there’s a break for him to catch his breath.

Rowyn wishes he could do more to help, but he knows that any words would hurt Colin’s head more than they would help, so he settles for physical comfort.

Colin breathes deeply, and even in the basically non-existent light, Rowyn sees his face pale further, as he lurches forward with a liquidly gurgle that brings up a mouthful of vomit. He tries to breathe in and instead leans forward with a new wave of puke. Now that he’s started, he seems unable to stop. Wave after wave of sick comes pouring out of his mouth, as he whimpers in pain, one hand clawing at his head, while the other clutches his stomach. The only thing keeping him from falling apart completely is Rowyn’s hand on his back, steady as ever.

Rowyn winces in sympathy, as Colin throws up yet another mouthful of vomit. He knows it’s the pain of the migraine that brought him to vomit, and he hopes he brings him some comfort. When he finally seems finished, Rowyn wipes his face with the cloth, and gives him a hug, letting him relax.

Rowyn grabs the glass of water, trying to encourage Colin to drink some. He shakes his head, then groans as the room spins. He squints his eyes to look at Rowyn and winces as the world sways around him, covered in colourful aura lines.

He whispers “No, Ro… hurts.”

“I know, Colin, but you have to drink something, then we can cuddle, and you can try to sleep.”

He hands Colin the glass, who shakily holds it up to his mouth. He tentatively takes a sip, wincing as he swallows. It does feel refreshing, but after a couple more sips, he can feel it swirling in his upset stomach, and sets it aside with a grimace.

Rowyn tugs him down until he’s wrapped around Colin’s back, cuddling him from behind. Colin relaxes into the hug, sighing as his senses calm for the first time in hours.

Just as Rowyn thinks Colin might be falling asleep, he feels him tense and tries to raise himself from the bed.

Colin whimpers, as a wave of liquidy sick sprays from his mouth, covering the bed in front of him, and coating his front.

At least I can handle vomit, he thinks with an eye roll, as he jumps up to help Colin. He’s leaning over the side of the bed, panting over the mess, with a trail of spit hanging from his lips. He looks miserable, eyes still clenched, with tears leaking from the corners, and a tight whine in his throat.

Rowyn carefully climbs over to Colin, grabbing the cloth to start cleaning up. Fuck, I thought I was doing everythin right. Should I have waited before giving him water? Rowyn has a rush of thoughts before rationalizing that he made the best decisions he could.

He shakes his hands out, as if that will shake the thoughts loose, and gently wipes Colin’s mouth and hands with the cloth. Once he’s clean, he gently moves Colin to the office chair, so he can strip the bed and lay down some blankets for the night.

He wets another cloth and cleans the sweat and tears from Colin’s face, before settling him back in bed, placing the cloth back on his forehead.

He insists that Colin tries a bit more water, making sure he drinks slowly, with small sips.

They settle back into bed, and Colin whispers “Thanks.” He’s relieved to hear that Colin sounds slightly less pained than before.

“Good night. Wake me if you need to.”

Colin hums in agreement, before slipping off to sleep.

Rowyn blinks awake, the final curls of sleepiness leaving his mind as he remembers the events of the previous night.

He props himself up on an elbow to look at Colin, who’s surprisingly still asleep. Sometime during the night they turned towards each other, so he can see Colin’s face, peaceful now in his sleep.

He tugs the blanket tighter against his body against the morning chill, and the movement must disrupt Colin enough that he shifts and scrunches up his face.

When his brown eyes open they find Rowyn’s green ones and he smiles slightly.

“Hey,” whispers Rowyn, reaching out to push a strand of red hair off his face, smiling at his sleepiness. It’s rare to see Colin so calm, and Rowyn always loves Sleepy Colin.

“Heyy,” answers Colin through a yawn, before rubbing his forehead with his hand, and wincing at the aftereffects of the migraine.

Rowyn frowns at this action, and Colin laughs at his expression.

“I’m fine babe, I’m sorry for worrying you last night.”

“It’s not your fault,” he answers. After a moment he continues, “Why didn’t you text me? Could’ve told me you didn’t feel well.”

Colin looks sheepish at that, rubbing the back of his neck as he replies, “You were working and I didn’t want to bother you.” When Rowyn opens his mouth to protest this reasoning, he continues, “And, I was kind of more worried about the auras and getting home, and by the time I did I kind of just collapsed here until you found me.”

Rowyn frowns suspiciously at that, “What do you mean? When did the auras start?”

Colin grimaces, knowing this won’t go over well, “Maybe half an hour before my shift ended?”

“And you drove home like that?! You idiot! No wonder it was such a bad migraine.” he reprimands, glaring at him, and Colin shrugs in defeat, knowing it wasn’t his smartest move.

He winces as his head throbs, but it's nowhere near the pain of the night before, just an echo of the migraine and heightened by some dehydration.

Rowyn notices the change in his expression, and sighs, sitting up to rummage around on the table for the glass of water that was abandoned during the night. He hands it to Colin, who takes a sip, pleased when his stomach seems to accept it.

“Tell me you’re not going to work today,” says Rowyn, hoping he’s taking the day off.

“I’ll try and get coverage,” he assures him, sipping on the water, hoping it will help with the remaining headache.

The two remain in bed for a while longer, before Rowyn has to prepare for a class. Luckily Colin manages to get his shift covered, so he can leave without worrying about Colin.

[bbhsthighs]

i️ really appreciate the happy things spam 💖💝💕💞💘💞

aw I’m glad rowyn :’(💕💕💕 I hope ur doing alright bby ❤️

[loosesodamarble]

hello erika:3 first of all, i congratulate you.<3 <3 can you please write a licht x reader? i'm dying to know how much my husband loves me.<3

Hey there Anon! Thank you for the congrats and for the request. I'd be happy to write something romantic involving Licht!

And I will make sure you know how much Licht loves you, Anon! It's what you deserve!

Summary: One day, you learn more about the nature of Licht's love for you. It is a simple but beautiful and thoughtful love indeed.

Word count: ~850

..........

The day was sunny and bright, the perfect weather for picking flowers. So that’s exactly what you decided to do along with Fana and Charla. When the three of you reached the hills where the best flowers grew, you immediately noticed a cluster of people at the top. Licht sat surrounded by several village children, Patry included. One of the kids even sat on Licht’s shoulders.

“Aw, isn’t that a precious sight?” you remarked, a smile coming to your face.

“You only say that because you’re…” Charla paused and pursed her lips. “What was the word you humans use?”

“Dating,” you answered simply. You couldn't be offended by Charla’s question. Having abandoned Clover Kingdom in favor of the peaceful living of the elves, you were often used as a resource on human culture. Now was just another one of those times. “And that’s not true. Even if I wasn’t dating Licht, I’d still think the sight was adorable.”

“And that’s because you’re so in love with him!” teased Fana, making you flush. Her gaze returned to the group on the hill. “Still, I’m amazed how he can be so composed around the little ones.”

“That’s our Licht for you. Or maybe just my Licht.” Fana and Charla groaned but followed you up the hill when you dashed up the incline.

“Good afternoon, everyone!” Fana greeted the group when your trio reached the hilltop.

The young elves replied to Fana and dispersed to make room for all of you. You knelt by Licht who welcomed you with a kiss on the cheek, a gesture which you returned. You then saw a string of woven flowers in Licht’s lap.

“And what’s this?”

“We’ve been teaching Licht how to weave flowers!” Eclat exclaimed while hugging you from behind.

“Yeah! We finally found something he isn’t good at!” Rowyn, the child on Licht’s shoulders, added.

“You’re only learning that skill now?” Fana asked, picking up one of the flower crowns lying on the ground. It was of poorer quality than the in-progress one Licht had in hand. “I wonder why…”

Fana grinned knowingly. The children around you giggled. Patry rolled his eyes. With all that, you came to a conclusion that made you smile and blush.

“For me, Licht?” you asked. “But I can make my own.”

“You do look lovely in those,” Licht assured as he placed a hand on your cheek. “But I want to see you look that wonderful in one of my own making.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet!”

It was a simple little thing but the earnestness and tenderness of the statement made your heart skip a beat. You could’ve thrown yourself at Licht. Or well, you attempted to but Fana and Charla hastily held you back before you could tackle Licht and Rowyn to the ground. After Rowyn climbed off Licht, you happily threw yourself into Licht’s arms, the force being great enough to send you both tumbling down the side of the hill. The two of you laughed and grunted all the way down the slope.

“Ah ha ha!” Licht pushed himself up so he hovered above your form. He brushed his fingers through your messed up hair, plucking out blades of grass. “A-are you alright, dearest?”

“Yes, yes! I’m fine!” You looked up at Licht, beaming as bright as the sun. Reaching up, you brushed aside a smudge of dirt on his face. Cupping his face in your hands, you kissed Licht on the lips. A soft and loving touch. Resting your head on the ground, you stared into Licht’s eyes. “Perfectly fine…”

Licht let out a final chuckle then helped you to your feet. You two brushed yourselves off, helping one another get bits of grass and dirt off anywhere you couldn’t catch on your own.

“Say…” You started, holding Licht’s hand and intertwining your fingers. “Fana, Charla, and I came to pick some flowers. Is there a way I could convince you to help?”

Licht smiled but you knew it was a sad one. “As much as I would like to, I’ve spent too much time avoiding responsibilities with the children as it is,” he answered. “But…” He raised your linked hands and kissed yours. “How about you pick the flowers and we can put them to good use once we’re both home?”

You nodded, still pressed against him. “I can certainly do that.”

“I look forward to it.” Licht took only a step back. “One last thing… Like the flowers on these hills and the stars in the night sky, that is how much I love you.”

“Liiiiicht!” you laughed. You gave his hand a squeeze. “You’re so… So—!”

“So in love with you. I’ll say it now. Show it later today. And make sure you know for the rest of our days.”

After one final kiss, Licht pulled away from you, the two of you holding hands until they longer reached. Even when he let go of your hand and walked out of sight, you couldn’t stop smiling. And for him, you didn’t want to stop smiling.

[stilltakingmetoschool]

[ Hi my wonderful Tumblr fam!  

I thought I would have more time to RP after school started, but my mom wanted to try renting one of the spare rooms in the house.  So, I helped clean it out and repaint it, steam clean the carpet, and set it up while the weather was still dry (Seattle WA area).

I have been ‘peaking’ at my Dash when I can and love the new threads, art and story links and fandom posts...

I’m hoping to finish and post some replies, but my Tony feels a little dusty, and also I’ve been having ‘Post Endgame’ fanfic story ideas teasing the edges of my mind.

Also, my boyfriend Rowyn doesn’t think he’s ever going to play his Steve Rogers again, but gave me permission to keep it from being deleted or Archived.

There’s also a James Barnes that Rowyn started for a friend of ours that I might try resurrecting.

So, if there is anyone here who remembers the blog urls “youknowdamnwellwhy”, and “imturningintoyou”, those are their former RP blogs.

I will be at and away from the laptop for the remainder of the day.

Love you 3000.

Tonymun J ]

[arealcrow-archive]

@november-narwhal replied to your post “rowen, rowan, rowon, rowin, rowun, and rowyn would all be said...”

May I humbly present: Rowæn

ur brain is So fucking big dude

[wordsofasinner]

One Rainy Night

Rain poured down outside the rustic inn, soaking the men who’d just arrived. Six horses pranced and pulled against the reins as the innkeeper took them to the stables. Their hooded and cloaked riders strode into the taproom towards the fire, and shouted for food, ale and beds for the night. The storm was too wild to continue further and the horses were exhausted.

The travellers looked around the empty inn at several long tables with benches on either side of them. They sat down at the table closest to the roaring fire, shaking the rain off their cloaks as they sat. Timothy and Gladys, the innkeeper's adult children, managed the bar and served the drinks and food to passing travellers.

The innkeeper’s wife climbed the stairs to prepare the two guest rooms for the six guests. While the innkeeper was stabling the horses, his guests, now sitting by the fire, filled their bellies with ale and pie.

The travellers were raucous and rowdy as they drank, ate and shared jokes and stories. They were unshaven and wrapped in fur coats with gambesons underneath. Their boots had spurs attached – too expensive for ordinary folk, since they were a modern invention – but these looked custom made. The travellers were well armed with swords, axes and in one case a bow and arrows. It was necessary for folk carry weapons in the tumultuous times of the civil war.

Gladys approached the rowdy group, ale jug in hand, her nostrils quivering as she drew near to the ripe odour of their steaming cloaks. She trembled as she approached the circle of large, travel-worn soldiers to refill their cups. Gladys was a short and skinny girl with dirty-blonde hair and rosy cheeks. She was average looking, neither beautiful nor ugly, though her dark purple eyes were striking. She looked down, not daring to meet their eyes as she served the ale. The six men by the fire ignored her, holding their cups out, but not acknowledging her otherwise.

“Wait....so you were there for the siege of Grasswitch?” Rowyn asked, one eyebrow quirked, “I can’t imagine it!”.

“Aye, I was there!” Cikra snarled, as Gladys refilled his cup. He was a large man with spiky bristles, and short scruffy hair covering most of his head apart from the balding crown. His eyes were baby blue, a surprising contrast to his rough appearance.

“Was it as gruesome as folk say?” Wyr queried, as he waved his cup around, jabbing it towards Gladys. She poured ale into his cup, her hand shaking so she spilled a few drops, and then moved to the next man.

“None for me,” Owen barked, standing up, “I need a piss.”

“Outhouse is by the stables,” Gladys murmured, rosy cheeks afire.

“I swear I've never seen so much blood. In all the raids and battles I’ve fought, nothing compares to what I saw that day. It was the first time they used the new full-plate armour in a full-scale battle. The fight was more brutal, without technique or finesse. It was a free-for-all of bodies wrestling the enemy down to plunge a dagger into a weak spot. At the end of the battle the pyre of the dead rose to the rooftops and burned for days. There was a heap of used armour for plunder afterwards.”

“Where were you?” Rowyn asked.

“Oh, I was in one of the watch towers. I saw the whole thing. Only time I’ve ever been thankful I wasn't in the fray. I could count the vanguard survivors from both sides on two hands, a couple of fingers to spare.”

“You’re exaggerating!” Trevor barked. He moved closer to the fire to let the warmth seep into his bones. Cikra stared at him, a deep furrow between his brows, “Have you not been listening? I swear, the only battle in history with a higher death toll was the battle of Eastdale. That was when those poor sods had to confront the Haethyrr.”

“Know anyone who's fought with one of them and lived?” Jase asked, his mouth full of pie. Crumbs of pie sprayed from his mouth and stuck in his scraggy beard as gravy dribbled down his chin. Cikra eyed the spectacle of masticated pie and grimaced. .Jase was an unsavoury character. His bald head shone as it reflected the fire and his broken nose snuffled as he ate. His fierce grey eyes focused on his meal, scoffing it with no regard for table manners.

“I've come across a few who've lived to speak of it. But the Haethyrr are the least of our problems now. They're no longer the top predator in these lands. If there's any good to come out of the war, it's that they stay away from men now. They’re huddled in their caves deep within the mountains of Haethred, too scared to come out.” Cikra scoffed.

“With good reason, I'd say. Even with their tough leathery skin, sharp fangs and ferocious hunger, they are no match for the organised bands of warriors around these days. They always depended on surprise,” Wyr added.

As Wyr finished speaking, the door crashed open and hit the wall, startling everyone. The men jumped from their seats, weapons in hand, as they turned to face the door. They looked in silence at the dark silhouette that came into view. Out of the darkness came a man, hooded and cloaked, long hair protruding from his hood.  Clad in black full-plate armour, he had a crossbow hanging by his hip, attached to a string over his shoulder. From the front it looked as though he had a massive northern claymore on his back.

“Close the damn door! You're letting the rain in!” the innkeeper’s son shouted over the howling of the wind. The hooded man glared at him for a second, before turning around and closing the door.

“What's with the sword?” Jase whispered, to his cronies.

From behind, they could see the broken blade of his sword, around twelve inches long. Over the sword hung a sallet helmet with a damaged decoration on either side at the earflaps. But all that was left of the broken decoration was a small patch of sliver metal on either side of the black helmet.

The hooded man sat alone by the table closest to the door, leaving his hood on. Gladys approached him, “Can I get you something to eat?” she asked. No reply. “Ale?” she asked. He nodded, so she brought him a cup, and filled it. “Anything else?” she asked. Again, there was no reply. It was as if she didn't exist after she poured him the ale.

“....Okay then...if you need anything...” she murmured, as she turned and walked away.

Gladys returned to stand behind the bar next to her brother, who was wiping the bar table. “He's polite!” quipped her brother, a wry smile on his face.

“Well, I prefer him over the others. I'm sick of listening to gruesome stories and lewd jokes.”

“As long as he doesn't cause trouble, I don't care,” Timothy replied. Timothy was fifteen, one year older than Gladys. His hair was dirty-blonde, like Gladys, but cut short. He topped her height by a little, but was chunkier. His chubby cheeks were as rosy as his sister’s, and his eyes were the same shade of dark purple. Like his sister, he was plain looking, other than the eyes.

“Ma'll need to make up another bed,” Gladys complained, refilling her jug of ale.

“Better tell her sooner than later, while she’s upstairs,” her brother suggested.

“I'll do it now,” she huffed, set her jug down and headed for the stairs.

“Da's taking a long time with the horses,” Timothy commented, frowning, as he pulled another pie out of the oven.

“Bout time! Over here lad!” Cikra called.

Gladys entered the second sleeping room and leaned against the doorframe. She was the spitting image of her ma, albeit less careworn. “Ma, we got another guest,” she said. Her mother sighed. “Only one?” she asked, as she stood up to ease the kinks out of her back.

“Yes, ma,” Gladys replied.

“Good. I've been on my feet all day, and I don't think I can manage much more. Is your father back from the stables yet?”

“He wasn't when I came upstairs,” Gladys replied.

“He must be as weary as I, taking so long,” she sighed, and bent down to continue her task.

“Maybe he's back now,” Gladys soothed.

“Well, you go back down and prepare a meal for him. None for me though, I'm too tired to be hungry.”

“Yes, ma,” Gladys whispered, leaving her mother alone to prepare one more bed.

By the time she came back down, Cikra had finished the pie Timothy had given him.

“Owen sure is taking a long time,” he complained.

“You don't think he had any trouble?” Rowyn asked.

“Nah. How hard could it be?” Cikra scoffed, “I wouldn't worry about it.”

“The hooded fellow over there is making my skin crawl,” Wyr grumbled.

“Relax,” Jase said, “He's just one man....armed with a broken sword. What harm could he do, outnumbered six to one?”

“Ma's making another bed for our new guest” Gladys told Timothy. She glanced at the hooded man. His hood shielded his face, and he hadn’t finished his first drink. “Has he said anything yet?”

“Nope. He's just been sitting there the whole time,” Timothy said, “Creeping me out.”

Gladys looked at him for a moment, her curiosity growing, then shivered and avoided his eyes.

“Ma said to make Da some food for when he gets back,” she told her brother.

“He's taking an awful long time. I'm gonna check on him.” His actions mirrored his words as he put on his cloak and headed for the door. But before he reached the latch, the door swung open. Timothy took two quick steps back. “Da?” he asked.

The man who stepped into the light was not the innkeeper, but Owen, his face void of expression.

“Is it done?” Cikra asked.

Owen lifted his right hand to show them his bloody knife, “Aye,” he drawled, and wiped the blood off with his cloak. The colour drained from Timothy's pink cheeks. “Gladys...go upstairs...” he ground out in a hoarse whisper, as if there was sand in his throat. The shock wore off his frozen muscles and Timothy edged away from the door towards the bar. The five men by the fire all stood up, “Oh no...you stay right where you are,” Cikra drawled.

Gladys began to understand what was happening, her face a pasty white. She froze, unable to speak, staring at the knife in Owen’s hand.

“Wyr, go upstairs and show the wife our gratitude,” Cikra ordered.

Gladys managed a shriek. “Maaaaaaaaaaa!” she screamed. Jase and Rowyn rushed over and grabbed her. Timothy turned to help her, but before he even moved, Owen grabbed his arms and pushed the dagger against his neck.

“Gladys?” her mother called, as she hurried down the stairs to see what was wrong. She saw the men holding her daughter. “Gladys!” she cried, but Wyr caught her and pressed an arrow against her jugular, hard enough to break the skin. Thin trickles of blood oozed down her neck and stained the white collar of her dress.

“I think everyone's aware of what's going on here,” Cikra drawled, “This is a robbery. You have no chance of escape, and no one's coming to help you. My associate, over there, has made sure of that,” he grinned, pointing at Owen.

“What did you do.....What did you do?!” Gladys' mother shrieked, her eyes wide and her skin parchment white.

Cikra smiled, as he looked at her with eyes like chips of ice, then turned his glance to Gladys, “Da's not coming to help you.”  Gladys' mother gave out a scream that ended in a wail. Gladys’ screams blended in a loud crescendo with her mother’s. “You bastard!” Timothy cursed, but Owen pushed the dagger harder against him, cutting into the skin.

“One more word from you, and I'll have him slit your throat!” Cikra spat. Timothy stopped talking and winced, a trickle of blood running down his neck. “Now...here's what's gonna happen. We're gonna look around this nice inn of yours for anything worth taking. If we have to, we'll kill you...” Gladys screamed again, “Shut up!” Cikra roared. His shout echoed then faded into silence, and soundless tears rolled down Gladys' face. “As I was saying, we’re gonna stay here until we're bored with this place. Now, if you don't struggle, you may survive this. But if you give us any trouble, we'll butcher you like we did your father,” he said, staring at Gladys. He gazed at her, his head tilting this way and that. She was nothing special, even plain, why did she keep drawing his attention? He couldn't pinpoint what it was. “Trevor, check under the bar table for any weapons....” he ordered, before getting distracted by Gladys once more.

“What is it?” he asked. “Why are you so fascinating?”

Gladys said nothing, but looked down and shied from his unwanted attention. Cikra tilted his head to the side again. “Bring her closer,” he commanded. Jase and Rowyn gripped her tighter and dragged her forward.

“That's right,” Cikra said, “Let me have a better look at her...”

They were face to face and Gladys trembled, her face white and strained. Then Cikra grinned a bone-chilling smile. “Ahhh” he said, “That's it.”

“What's it, Cikra?” Owen asked.

“It's your eyes,” Cikra crooned, to Gladys. “Purple eyes. I've never seen the like....mesmerising.”

Gladys squirmed, but Jase and Rowyn tightened their grip.

“Hold on...” Wyr exclaimed, turning Gladys' mother's head to face him. “The mother has them too! Purple eyes!”

“Well I'll be...” Cikra said, “It runs in the family.”

Timothy chafed against his captor’s grip, but Owen pressed the blade deeper into his neck until another pinprick of blood beaded at the knifepoint. “What's your name?” Cikra asked the young girl. She said nothing, too petrified to move. “Your name!” he shouted. “G-Gladys...,” she stuttered.

Cikra smiled again, “Gladys....well...we're gonna have some fun, Gladys,”

“Don't you touch her!” Gladys' mother snapped, before wincing, as the arrowhead pressed harder against her throat. “You'll be next,” Cikra smirked.

He turned to Gladys again, “Oh, Gladys...we're gonna have a lot of fun. And after I'm done with you, and all my men have had a turn...I'm gonna take those eyes of yours.”

Gladys’ eyes widened, and she screamed and thrashed around. Cikra growled then punched her in the gut, so she dropped like a stone. Rowyn, and Jase picked up her still form by the arms. “Bend her over the bar table and make sure her family watch,” Cikra ordered, and he began to unbutton his trousers.

“Cikra...what about him?” Trevor asked, motioning towards the hooded man, who was taking another gulp of ale. Cikra paused for a second, “I'd forgotten about him.”

“He hasn't moved at all,” Owen scoffed.

Cikra shrugged, “He doesn't seem to care. If he moves kill him. If not, let him mind his own business.” He shouted to the hooded man, “You can stay for the night if you behave. You might come out of all this alive, out of respect from one traveller to another. Now...” he said to Jason, “Lift her skirt.”

“You're no traveller,” a voice said. The men froze and watched their leader who’d fixed his eyes on the hooded man.

“What did you say?” Cikra demanded.

“You're no traveller,” the hooded man repeated. The six outlaws looked at each other, eyes wide and shrugging shoulders, waiting to see what Cikra would do.

Cikra scoffed, and re-buttoned his trousers. He took a couple steps towards the hooded man. “Then what am I? Enlighten me,” Cikra smirked.

“Couple other words come to mind. But not traveller.”

“Is that right?” Cikra asked, but he received no reply. He looked around at his men before looking back to the hooded man. “Well? We're waiting!” he demanded.

“Robber, Murderer, Rapist, Scum, shit on the heel of my boot....,” the stranger drawled, raising his cup to his lips. But before he could drink, Cikra swiped his cup out of his hand. The cup hit the wall before landing, empty, on the ground. Cikra’s face reddened and his eyes bulged, “One more word from your mouth, and I’ll kill them!” he warned.

“You think I care what happens to those people? It's you who's got my attention,” the man replied. Cikra looked at his men, frowned and scratched his head. They shrugged back, watching their leader.

“You spilled my drink. I was just giving you my opinion before, but now you've spilled my drink. Before, you were a piece of shit in my vicinity, but now I have to kill you.”

Cikra's eyes widened, before he burst out in laughter. Following his lead, his men also roared with laughter. “You! Kill me?” Cikra jeered, “How on earth, do you plan on doing that? With that useless thing!” he bellowed, pointing to the broken blade on his back.

The man remained silent. “Nothing more to say?” Cikra asked, “Good, coz I'm bored with you now. Trevor, kill this asshole,” he barked, and turned his back on the man. “Now where were we?” He unbuttoned his trousers again.

Trevor pulled out his dagger and strode towards the hooded man. He grabbed the seated man’s hood, his dagger raised. Before he could reach the stranger’s throat, there was a crash, as his dagger hand hit the table, forced down by the hooded man. Before he could respond, Trevor's face crashed into his own dagger, killing him. Cikra turned as Owen released Timothy and lunged at the hooded man. Before Cikra had finished turning, the man had pulled out his broken sword with his left hand, and sliced in an upward motion cutting Owen's hand off. Then, in a downward motion, the broken blade sliced Owen's neck, cutting through the jugular.

Cikra looked on, frozen into inaction by the suddenness of the attack. The hooded man turned to face the rest of his opponents and raised his crossbow in his right hand. No one had noticed there was a bolt ready. He fired it and the bolt hit Wyr in the right eye. The innkeeper's wife pulled free of his hand as his lifeless corpse tumbled down the stairs.

All this had happened in a matter of seconds. Cikra drew his sword while Gladys wrestled with Jason and Rowyn. Rowyn let go of her and pulled his axe out of his belt as he followed Cikra's lead. Jase held onto the struggling Gladys, who jerked her knee up to kick him in the gonads. He gasped and released his hold, doubling over and retching. Gladys shot back, away from him. Before he recovered from the agony, Jase jerked and yelped at another sharp pain, deep in his back. Timothy had grabbed Owen's dagger and plunged it into the groaning form on the floor. Gladys looked down at the dying man, purple eyes wide, watching his lifeblood pool on the floor beside him.

“Die!!” Cikra screamed, lunging towards the hooded man. Rowyn got to him first, axe raised in the air. The hooded man's broken sword clashed with the axe, as Cikra lunged. The hooded man dodged the lunge and kicked him in the gut. Then, with his right hand, he smashed the crossbow into Rowyn's head and stabbed him in the chest with the broken blade in his left hand. The blade slid right through the gambeson and into his heart. Rowyn fell to the ground, just as Cikra slashed his blade into the hooded man's torso. But he had forgotten. The hooded man was wearing plate armour, and the sword did no damage. Slade dropped his crossbow, so it hung beside his hip. Then with his free right hand, he grabbed the blade of Cikra's sword, and struck him in the face with the cross-guard of the broken blade. Cikra let go of his sword as he hit the ground. Before he knew what has happening, the hooded man was on top of him. He punched Cikra in the face, knocking out some of his teeth. Then again, and again.

Then the hooded man stopped and looked over at Gladys, who was huddled against the wall in the embrace of both her brother and mother. The hooded man then grabbed Cikra by the ear and hoisted him up to his knees. “You.....,” Cikra spluttered, “You son of a...”

“Gladys, right?” the hooded man asked.

Gladys nodded, afraid to say anything. “Come here,” he coaxed, as if to a timid deer. Gladys hesitated at first, but then drew away from Timothy and her mother's embrace, and edged towards him. The hooded man untied a string under his chin and pulled the hood back, revealing his face.

Gladys bit her lip as she laid eyes upon his features. Long black hair concealed a clean-shaven, but battle hardened, face. He had sharp features and one brown eye; the other was yellow with a scar running through it, marring his face.

“This life isn't mine to take,” he said, at last. Gladys looked at Cikra's beaten face, then back at the man's.

The man sheathed his broken blade and then pulled a concealed dagger from his boot. He held it out to Gladys. She looked at it for a second, before turning her gaze on her attacker. Cikra's gaze was on her. He smiled a toothless grin. “You won't...,” he said, “You won't be able to-,”

Before he finished talking, Gladys grabbed the dagger from the man's hand and slit Cikra's throat. He looked at her with vacant eyes, as he spluttered, choking on the blood. The man let go of him, and he fell to the ground. Gladys' heart raced, and the dagger dropped from her nerveless fingers. Both Timothy and her mother rushed over to her and hugged her to them.

They all looked at the man, who had walked past them, and taken a seat by the fire. He pulled out a pipe, along with some herb, then lit it using a burning stick, and inhaled a deep puff of smoke.

“Who.....who are you?” Gladys' mother asked.

He didn't respond with a name. Instead he took his pipe out of his mouth, looked back at them, and drawled, “I'm assuming I can stay here free of charge. Right?”

[helvenandgrey]

Rowyn, still scared, watches him dissapeared with a misty step, but suspects invisibility spell.

Almost find him, more scared of future antics so tries a swing and near hits him but misses. He tells her "that is most unwise little one" in her head.

Her reply? Scared but also mad at this eldritch cultist for wanting to fuck with her and her friends?

"Are you scared of a little gnome? But I could sing praises of your knees."

Rowan watches a warlock and servant of an eldritch being cast several high level spells, but fails at one.

Her immediate response to dealing with danger?

Casts hideous laughter and yells a joke at him that doubles as an insult to him AND his elder god!

"HEY BALOR! THUUL GOT YOUR TONGUE?!" and runs to stab him in the knees when it fails, doing one of his earlier tricks to move fast

[harrylights]

think i’m gonna start posting some unrelated stuff even on this blog just so it’s a little bit broken up more. hopefully some lil things that can make us smile

[when-jaguars-are-sick]

COLIN: You Need to Cool Down

So it turns out I've been so focused on the fact that I haven't been writing lately that I forgot I have a collection of fics that are already written. Which is great, inspiration and content in one lol. Anyway, here's a Colin fic, also no emeto in this one, unfortunately

------

Out of the corner of his eye Colin watches Mel approach the guard chair to rotate him off. With his eyes trained on the pool he realizes he’s zoned out for the last few minutes and frantically counts the number of people in the pool.

When he realizes he’s missing one person he freaks out, but lets out a sigh of relief when he realizes they’re safely guarded by Kai in the hot tub.

Mel shakes the guard chair slightly to announce her arrival, and Colin closes his eyes, breathing deeply as the pool dips around him. Climbing down the ladder shakily he clutches the railing as he waits for Mel to climb up.

Once she’s settled he removes his hand, only for his vision to go black. Quickly grabbing onto the chair to avoid falling over, he blinks the black spots out of his vision.

“Hey,” starts Mel, and he looks up at her, “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” he reassures quickly. There’s only half an hour left in his shift… he’ll be fine.

“Okay, but make sure you drink some water. You look pale.”

He nods in agreement and starts to walk back to the guard office, but stops when he hears her voice again.

“Could you ask Julie to come out, I’d like to talk to her for a minute.”

He gives her a thumbs-up, and continues into the guard office, sighing when the cold air washes over him.

Collapsing into a chair he rests arms on the table and buries his face in them.

Julie looks over in concern, but before she can comment he says “Mel wants to talk to you.” and she glances at him once more before walking over to Mel.

Though he’s pretty sure they’re talking about him, Colin doesn’t pay attention, as he’s only now noticing the pounding of a headache against his temples and the way he’s shivering despite being sticky with sweat.

When Julie returns to the office, she fills a cup of water for him, and places it on the table in front of him.

“Drink up,” she commands, “Then you can go home.”

“But work,” he protests.

Julie laughs a little and says “We have more than enough guards tonight, and I don’t trust you to safely guard a pool tonight anyway.”

He opens his mouth to protest further, but finds he can’t. She makes a good argument, he thinks grudgingly.

He raises the cup to his mouth and takes a sip, noticing for the first time how thirsty he is. Gulping it down he goes to stand up, only to feel Julie’s hand on his shoulder.

“Rest, for a minute,” she says, gently scratching the nape of his neck in a soothing manner. He drops his head back onto his arms and relaxes the tension he hadn’t realized he’s been carrying.

“Is it safe for you to drive?” Julie asks in concern.

Colin shrugs unhelpfully.

“Should I get Mel to drive you home?”

He shakes his head quickly, which becomes a problem when the world twists around him. Grimacing, he closes his eyes tightly and uncurls a hand to rub uselessly at his eyes.

“Call your boyfriend then. I’m not letting you drive home tonight, that doesn’t seem safe.”

Colin sighs and reaches forward to grab his phone.

With his vision dancing the way it is, it’s a wonder he gets it unlocked and is able to find the phone app. Without looking, he clicks the first name on his “recently called” list, praying it’s Rowyn.

While the line rings, he watches Julie get ready for her on rotation.

Finally the call connects, and someone cautiously says “Hello?”

Jayden. Not Rowyn, but someone.

He takes too long to answer, because Jayden says “Colin? Is something wrong?”

“Dunno,” he slurs out, starting to fade into sleep.

He distantly hears someone mutter “Shit!” and he hears some voices talking, then clearer, a question. “Where are you?”

“Pool,” he answers sluggishly.

He hears the reply as someone, Jayden? says “Okay, we’re coming.”

Letting the phone drop out of hand, he stays propped against the desk. As though through a long tunnel, he hears “Colin? I have to rotate now, okay?”

Meanwhile:

Jayden turns to Alix. “What do we do?”

“Explain to me what happened?”

“I don’t know! He doesn’t sound okay, and he’s at the pool, but he wasn’t answering me!” Jayden forces himself to take a deep breath and think of a plan.

“So we need to get him help.”

“I guess? Yes? I think that’s why he was calling. Is Keegan here?”

“No, Key’s out with Jamie.”

“Damn it! Do we call him? So he can get Colin’s boyfriend?” Jayden asks unsure.

“Sure, let’s try that.”

His phone still in his hand, he quickly dials Keegan, who answers after only one ring.

“Hey,”

“Keegan, are you with Jamie?”

“Yes, why? What’s wrong?” On the other end of the phone, Keegan’s eyes have widened, and he’s looking at Jamie in concern who stares back in surprise.

“Put him on speaker.”

“...hi, is everything okay?” asks Jamie cautiously. Keegan moves closer, wrapping an arm around Jamie’s shoulders.

“We don’t know,” answers Jayden, “Colin called me from the pool and sounds really out of it. I wasn’t sure what to do… Should we go get him?”

Jamie presses his fingers under his glasses and into his eyes as he thinks. “Let me try calling Rowyn first,” he finally answers.

When Rowyn doesn’t pick up, Jamie makes a decision.

“We’ll go check on him,” he says determinedly, “We’re closer, and I can keep trying to reach Rowyn, or someone.”

“Okay, keep us updated?” asks Jayden.

“Yeah, of course. Thanks for calling us.”

Quickly walking to the car, Jamie calls Rowyn again, groaning when it once again goes to voicemail.

Luckily they’re only a few minutes away from the pool. Still with no contact to Rowyn, they stumble out of the car and rush through the Complex doors. Hurrying onto the pool deck, Jamie passes the gates and the sign urging people to “Please remove your outdoor shoes!” as he glances around for Colin.

Recognizing Julie, he hurries over and says “Hi. Where’s Colin?”

Frowning, she looks at him, and says “You’re not his boyfriend. He’s in the guard office.”

“We can’t get hold of Rowyn.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah.”

“I told him he could go home for the night. He seems really out of it, but I don’t think it’s anything serious.”

“Oh, thank god. Thanks Julie!”

Upon entering the guard office, the first thing Jamie notices is Colin’s pale face with bright red splotches high on his cheekbones, and then the way he’s curled up to a pretty blond woman whose name tag says “Mel”.

“Hi Mel, I’m Colin’s friend.”

“Oh, good,” she says with a relieved smile, gently starting to nudge Colin up so he’s sitting on his own. His eyes flutter open, and he starts to giggle.

When Keegan joins them in the guard office, Colin is still laughing hysterically and murmuring about how “There’s two of you!”

When he returns to slumping against the desk, Jamie steps forward urging him to drink more water. Casting a terrified look back at Keegan, he jumps when his phone rings.

Looking between his phone and his obviously ill friend he’s relieved when Keegan takes the phone.

“It’s Rowyn,” Keegan tells Jamie, relief evident in his voice.

“Hello Rowyn, it’s Keegan,” he starts.

“Keegan? Is Jamie okay?!” He must have noticed the missed calls, thinks Keegan.

“Yes, Jamie’s fine. But, uh…”

“What’s going on?” asks Rowyn sternly.

“Um, Colin’s not?”

“What do you mean Colin’s not okay? Where are you? What’s going on?”

“Colin called Jayden and Jayden called me, and I was with Jamie, and we came to get him from the pool because he sounded really spaced out and not-okay. He definitely has a fever, and is really distant.”

“Fuck. I’m on my way.”

“No, wait. We can get him home.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, we should be there soon. Do you want to talk to Julie? Or Mel?”

“I guess,” Rowyn pauses, then continues quietly, “Yeah, thanks.”

Passing the phone to Mel, who starts to better explain what happened, Keegan turns his attention back to Colin and Jamie.

Colin who’s now dozing against the counter again.

“F’ck, m’head ‘urts,” groans Colin, dropping more of his weight onto the counter.

Jamie places his hand on Colin’s forehead, grimacing at the heat and Colin attempts to burrow his head into Jamie’s hand. Whining at the loss of contact, he chases after his hand and almost falls over, despite sitting down.

Deciding he’d be much comfier (and safer) at home, Jamie and Keegan each grab one of his arms, heaving him to his feet. Surprisingly, he’s able to support his own body, despite being unsteady. Helping to direct Colin to their car, they lead him out of the pool area.

Once situated in the back seat with Jamie, Keegan runs back to grab Colin’s things, their phones, and thank Julie and Mel for their help.

---

Finally, thinks Colin as he lies down, resting his head on something squishy. I’m home, he thinks. Rowyn, he thinks, I need Rowyn.

“Rwyn”, he slurs, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“I know, we’re going to Rowyn, see if you can sleep,” murmurs a voice. But that is definitely not Rowyn’s voice.

Struggling to sit up, he looks around him and takes in his surroundings for the first time. He’s not at home, he’s lying in the back of a car. And it’s not Rowyn, it’s Jamie.

At this realization, Colin feels tears leak from his eyes and start to run down his face.

“Shh,” whispers Jamie, wiping his face and pulling him back down, “Try and sleep, then we’ll be home with Rowyn.”

Concerned with the lack of argument on Colin’s part, Jamie strokes his hair until he settles.

Keegan keeps glancing back at them, until Jamie has to remind him to keep his “Eyes on the road, Key”.

As they pull up outside their flat, Jamie nudges Colin up once more, and drags him out of the car. Quickly supported on either side, he stands shakily and wraps his arms around himself as his shivers intensify with the cool night air.

Walking into the warm air of the building is like being wrapped in a blanket, he thinks.

Stumbling toward the front door, he struggles with the knob, until Jamie nudges his hand out of the way to open it.

Upon opening the door, they see a sight rarely seen: a frantic, pacing Rowyn. When he hears the door open, his head snaps up, and he rushes forward, catching Colin just as he starts to fall forward.

Colin finally feels safe, wrapped in Rowyn’s arms. Rowyn says “Not feeling too good, are you, babe?” In response he tucks his over-warm face into Rowyn’s neck he lets out a soft sob, succumbing to his body’s needs.

Keegan and Jamie spring forward as they start to sink toward the ground, grabbing Colin and leading him to his bedroom. Rowyn follows, his hand interlocked with Colin’s.

Colin collapses onto the bed, glad that he’s finally actually home. Rowyn sinks down next to him, and caresses his cheek. Grabbing a glass of water off the bedside table he raises it to Colin’s mouth and tips some into his mouth, watching as he swallows.

Then, it’s all business.

“Jamie, get medicine from the cabinet in the bathroom. Anything that will bring the fever down. And bring the thermometer. Keegan, fill up this glass and bring a damp cloth.”

Rowyn turns to Colin, who’s still in his work uniform.

Colin groans as cold hands lift him into a sitting position. The world spins around, so he closes his eyes. Rowyn slides him up until he can lean on the headboard, before tugging his shirt over his head.

When Keegan returns, he helps Colin drink some more water. With the cloth, he starts to wipe Colin’s face, ignoring his shivers. He mutters “S’ cold,” and Rowyn responds comfortingly with “I know babe, but you need to cool down.” He keeps going, moving the cloth down his torso, and under his arms.

Colin feels himself start to drift off, in a feverish haze. Before he can fully sleep, he feels something cool on his cheek. A hand, he realizes, as it pats his face insistently.

Groaning, he pulls himself back into a sitting position and carefully opens his eyes to see Rowyn’s face worriedly staring back at him.

“Colin, you need to take some medicine before you sleep, okay?”

He feels himself shake his head “no”, but doesn’t know why. It’s always best to listen to Rowyn, so why is his body saying no? Maybe because there’s a nasty virus making his temperature soar, but it’s not as though he’d realize this.

Rowyn cups his face again, and presses a pill against his lips. He opens his mouth and the pill is slipped inside, before being followed by some water.

Colin carefully swallows, and then Rowyn moves on to the next task. “One more thing: I need to check your temperature.”

Grabbing the thermometer that Jamie left he gently pokes it into Colin’s mouth, and they wait until it beeps.

Then, Rowyn pulls it out and glances at the reading then mutters “Damn, it’s in Fahrenheit. Hang on, let me Google the conversion.”

Colin’s mouth twitches into a tired smile as he awaits the verdict. “38.9, I was honestly expecting worse. I mean it’s bad, but not hospital bad.”

Colin closes his eyes yet again, now struggling to keep them open.

Rowyn climbs onto the bed next to Colin, and pulls him down so they’re lying next to each other.

“You can sleep now, babe.”

“Mm…” he mutters, already slipping into sleep.

Rowyn texts Jamie an update, who quickly relays the information to Jayden.

Hoping that he’s on the mend, soon everyone follows him into sleep. It was a surprisingly uneventful night after that.

In the morning:

Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzzzz!

Colin wakes with a start, rolling over to slap the alarm off, his muscles screaming in protest of the sudden movement.

As he slowly becomes more aware of his surroundings he realizes how absolutely disgusting he feels.

His head is pounding sluggishly, and his body shudders at the prospect of any movement. Not to mention the distinctly sticky sensation of being soaked in sweat. He turns back to Rowyn, groaning under his breath, and is met with green eyes carefully watching him.

“Hey,” Colin whispers, voice raspy with sleep.

“Hey, you,” returns Rowyn, “Feeling better?”

“I don’t really remember last night… but I’m guessing so?”

“Mmm, you were pretty spacey.”

“Ugh, I feel gross.”

“I can imagine. Let me check your temperature before we do anything else,” requests Rowyn, leaning up on one elbow so he can reach across and snag the thermometer off the bedside table.

Colin obediently opens his mouth, accepting it when it’s placed under his tongue.

When it beeps, he pulls it out and squints at the numbers.

“Oh yeah, it’s in Fahrenheit. Here, let me see?”

Passing it off to Rowyn, Colin tries to remember the events of the previous night, but remembers only vague, hazy scenes.

“37.1, that’s much better than last night. And you always run pretty warm, so I’d say you’re almost back to normal.”

“Okay, good. So… last night? What happened?”

“From what I know, Mel rotated you off and Julie tried to get you to call me, but you called Jayden instead. I’d love to know why.”

Colin shrugs. “Head was heavy. Eyes were closing. First name finger touched.”

Rowyn smiles slightly at the explanation, having been secretly worried that Colin had avoided calling him for a reason.

“So you call Jayden, and he thinks something is seriously wrong and tracks down Jamie, who tries to call me but I had my phone on silent since I was studying. Jamie and Keegan went to pick you up from the pool, since Julie was letting you go home early. They got there and That’s when I checked my phone. I talked to Mel for a minute and Keegan, then they dragged you home.”

Colin soaks in the new information and says “Oh.”

“You had a fever of almost 39 degrees Colin! I was worried, and you were hardly responding. What happened?”

“I don’t know, Ro. I felt fine all day, except for maybe a headache?”

“Heat stroke, maybe?”

Colin shrugs again. He’s had heat stroke before and doesn’t remember it feeling like this, but then again, this hit really suddenly and strongly and not much can do that.

“Anyway, your fever must have broken overnight, thank god. Alright, so, I’m thinking we'll have breakfast next?”

“Mm, yeah, but first a shower please. I’m so sticky. And gross.”

Rowyn huffs out a laugh, and agrees, watching carefully as Colin stands and makes his way to the bathroom.

“Be careful, and don’t pass out!” he calls after him.

[channelnewswire-blog]

Customer discovers maggots in live crabs bought from FairPrice, provided refund, Singapore News & Top Stories - The Straits Times

SINGAPORE - A retired logistics manager who was hoping to whip up a seafood feast for his family on Thursday (Jan 24) was shocked to find maggots in the bag of live crabs he bought from FairPrice Finest.

Mr Rowyn Cai, 58, told The Straits Times on Friday that he had bought three live crabs, weighing about 1.3kg in total, from the supermarket chain's outlet at Junction 8 in Bishan at about 2pm. He paid around $40.

An hour later, he wanted to wash the crabs to steam them for dinner when he noticed "a lot of things moving" inside the bag.

Mr Cai shared a video of the bag of crabs in a Facebook group on Thursday afternoon and wrote in the post: "I just bought three live crabs from J8 NTUC and after an hour, I saw many live maggots on the crabs though the crabs were still alive."

He told ST that there were about 12 live crabs for sale when he was at the supermarket at the time but he did not notice that anything was amiss.

After he discovered the maggots, he quickly returned to the supermarket and spoke to the branch manager, who offered him a refund.

When Mr Cai asked the manager for an explanation on how the incident could have happened, he claimed that the manager did not give a satisfactory reply.

"I need them to be accountable and I need them to investigate. They should check and trace the customers who bought this batch of crabs and make sure that they are okay," said Mr Cai, who has previously bought prawns from the Junction 8 outlet but not crabs.

He added that he was seeking reassurance that such an incident would not happen again.

"I hope FairPrice can look into their standard operating procedures for handling seafood and ensure that there is proper food hygiene," he said.

Instead of cooking dinner at home, Mr Cai and his family ate at a coffee shop near his Housing Board block instead.

Related Story

"I don't think I will dare to eat crabs for some time," he added.

In response to ST's queries on Friday, a FairPrice spokesman confirmed that a refund was given to Mr Cai.

The supermarket chain has been in contact with the customer and the crab supplier, and is currently investigating the case "to ascertain the type of foreign organism found on the product and the cause of it", the spokesman said.

"Checks on existing stocks did not reveal any anomalies for the product in question," the spokesman added.

FairPrice said that it has a policy in place which allows customers to return or exchange products that are of an unsatisfactory quality at the same store of purchase, with a valid receipt provided.

"We take the opportunity to also advise our customers that it is good practice to thoroughly wash all fresh or live seafood prior to consumption," the spokesman said.

[stilltakingmetoschool]

[I’m really sorry for being gone so much.  I’ve ‘connected’ with other families who are having their kids homeschooled and we’ve been getting out kids together this summer for fun activities and building social strengths.  I’m more confident with driving now, so, we’ve been venturing further away from our neighborhood while their mom and Rowyn are at work.  I still peek in on what’s been going on, I just haven’t been able to reply until now.

Love,

Tonymun/Johnas]

[when-jaguars-are-sick]

Augusnippets Day 8: Found Family - Colin

This fic is set a little later in the timeline, once Rowyn's a bit more confident of his place in the group, and his and Colin's relationship.

------

By the time Charlie’s pressing “play” on the night’s movie, Rowyn’s sure that something’s wrong with Colin.

He can tell, in the subtle ways that Colin shows his distress, subtle enough that no one else has noticed. Rowyn, however, is so attuned to Colin’s body language that he immediately noticed something was wrong. To him, it’s clear, seen in the way that Colin is ever-so-slightly less exuberant tonight in his storytelling, in the way that his face settles into a frown the moment he thinks no one is watching, in the way that his hands momentarily clench into fists.

Upon noticing these things, Rowyn remembers the last time he knew someone that deeply. It’s a bittersweet thing, he thinks, as he reflects on the two people that he used to know better than himself. He might not even recognize them, if he saw them today. And that thought almost breaks his heart, but he forces himself to remember why he had to leave, and he turns his attention back to the person he’s currently worried about.

After half an hour of watching the movie, Rowyn is officially concerned. Glancing around him, he realizes he’s not the only one who’s noticed Colin’s restless shifting; Max looks at Rowyn, raising their eyebrows and nodding at Colin, their question clear. Rowyn shrugs in response, looking back at his boyfriend.

He wraps an arm around Colin’s shoulders and pulls him closer in a snuggle, so he can discreetly whisper in his ear, What’s wrong?

He gets a vague shrug in reply, and he frowns, his focus turning back to the movie, even as he resolves to keep an eye on Colin.

Throughout all of this, Charlie remains fixated on the storyline of the movie, as enthusiastic of a viewer as normal. Jamie however, is oblivious to the situation entirely, enjoying Keegan’s presence next to him, and watching the movie while his mind wanders slightly.

As the movie progresses, Colin slumps more fully against Rowyn, who glances at him every few seconds, his lack of commentary the most telling sign that something’s wrong.

When Colin suddenly squirms against him, Rowyn’s head snaps over to look at him, Max now carefully watching them as well.

Rowyn watches as Colin’s face drains of any colour, leaving it a sickly white in the light from the movie. He sees Colin’s Adam's apple bobbing, as he swallows rapidly, his mind running a mile a minute connecting all the clues.

He and Max both understand what’s happening at the same time, but just a second too late. At that moment, Colin lets up the softest, airiest burp, really it’s just a puff of air. This precedes a large burst of vomit that splatters onto his lap and the ground in front of him. He gags again, but nothing more comes up.

When he closes his eyes for a moment, hands clenching again, Rowyn gently touches his arm, causing him to jump and turn towards Rowyn, eyes wide with vulnerability, puke still on his chin.

Rowyn goes to stand up to grab some supplies, and Max stops him, muttering “I’ve got it, you stay with him.”

Rowyn takes a moment to observe the state of the room. Max had vacated their spot, and left the room, but everyone else was still there. Charlie, from her movie-watching spot on the floor, had frozen, trembling with the barest hint of a shiver, her eyes wide and staring. Crouched in front of her was Jamie, with one hand on her shoulder, and the other running soothingly through her hair while also keeping her eyes averted from Colin. Keegan is sitting stiffly on the couch, alternating between watching Jamie and Colin, obviously not sure how he can help, until Jamie gets his attention. Someone paused the movie, but Rowyn doesn't know who or when.

“Ro… gonna happ’n ‘gain,” Colin mumbles, and Rowyn reaches up to push his orange hair back from his face, bracing Colin against him.

Just as Colin leans forward with another heave, Max hurries back into the room with an armful of items that they let clatter to the floor as they plop a bowl on Colin’s lap into which splatters the remains of Colin’s dinner, now partially digested.

Max groans, turning away as their own stomach twists at the sight, instead gathering up the supplies they had collected from where they had fallen to the floor.

After a minute of throwing up, this second wave lasting longer than the first, Colin appears empty, heaving dryly over the bowl.

Rowyn rubs his back in big circles, encouraging him to take deep breaths until the heaves taper off and Colin is left drained and slumping back into the cushions.

Glancing around the room once more, Rowyn sees Charlie and Jamie in a very similar position, if a bit more frantic. Keegan, however, is now crouched down with Jamie in front of Charlie, well versed in what debilitating panic feels like, trying to calm Charlie down.

The floor and Colin himself are both still covered in vomit, so Rowyn starts to nudge his boyfriend before the adrenaline wears off, pulling him upright, and ushering him towards the bathroom.

After settling Colin in bed, Rowyn leaves him with a kiss before going back into the hallway where he hears voices. He peaks into Charlie’s room, to see Jamie and Charlie curled up on her bed, in a tight embrace. Jamie catches his eye, and winks at him, which is enough to reassure Rowyn that Jamie has the situation under control. 

So he makes his way to the living room to start cleaning the mess, only to find Keegan and Max working on it already.

Upon returning to their room, he finds Colin, surprisingly, still awake. Rowyn rolls his eyes when Colin makes grabby hands towards his boyfriend, pouting dramatically until Rowyn climbs in bed with him.

After a couple moments of comfortable silence, Colin asks “Whatcha thinkin about?”

“Just how lucky I am to have met all of you. And how thankful I am that you brought me into this group. I’m just kind of realizing tonight how it really feels like you guys are my family, if that makes sense? I mean, I gave up on my family a long time ago, but I think this is what it’s supposed to feel like.”

Colin smiles at the sentiment, looking half-asleep, and snuggles closer.

[when-jaguars-are-sick]

ROWYN: I Thought You'd Be Home By Now

And now it's Rowyn's turn for a proper introductory fic. I'm a sucker for when characters behave uncharacteristically when they're sick, and Rowyn has quite contrasting behaviour, which I'm finding very fun to explore. Plus Colin is just a natural caretaker, so...

----------

Colin is sitting on the desk in the guard room, talking with Kai and Melissa. All the other staff from the night’s lessons have gone home already.

Colin loves hanging out with Mel and Kai. They bicker all the time, and they claim they’re “not friends”, but he knows they care about each other. They always make him laugh, so when they are working together, they like to hang out for a while after their shifts. And this is why he’s sitting on the desk, at 9:45, on a Thursday, listening to Melissa and Kai fool around.

Kai and Mel both have homework they need to do, for their high school and college classes respectively, though neither are particularly keen to leave.

One of Colin’s favourite things about working at the pool is the way the staff members can all banter seamlessly, and they all know each other pretty well. Mel and Kai are similar in that regard, and he’s always noticing the little ways that they look after the other, like he and Julie do for each other.

Working Thursday nights together, the three of them learn their routines pretty well, and this is why Colin knows that Melissa drives Kai home almost every week, so he’s unsurprised when Melissa starts getting impatient, bugging him to hurry up.

Mel might not be in a rush to get home, but she does have an early morning class the next day that she needs to be awake for, so she starts pushing him towards the changerooms.

Colin sits there, laughing at their shenanigans, and appreciating the moment of de-stressing after their shift.

Melissa talks with him for another few minutes until Kai returns, changed and packed.

She stands up, and immediately sways, putting all her weight on the desk, and closing her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” asks Kai quickly, somehow managing to be both suspicious and concerned at the same time.

“I’m okay,” replies Melissa, “Just don’t think I drank enough water today.”

“Sit down, now.” instructs Colin, already moving closer in case she passes out.

As Melissa slumps heavily onto the chair, she claims “I’m fine”, and Kai rolls his eyes at her blatant lie.

“Where’s your water bottle?” he asks, looking around.

She says “In the car.”

Kai sighs in exasperation, then walks away without another word.

He returns with a paper cup that he fills with water, and hands to her. “Drink it all,” he says sternly.

Colin smiles secretly at the obvious care the two have for each other, despite them denying it.

Once Melissa finishes her water, she starts ushering Kai out the door, eager to get home and relax. As Colin’s locking the staff office’s door, his phone rings, and he fumbles trying to answer it without dropping his phone or the keys.

“Hello?”

“Hey Colin. Are you almost home?”

“Leaving now. Everything okay, Ro?”

“Yeah,” he says quietly, and Colin knows it’s a lie.

“Ro, babe, what’s wrong?”

“I just… I thought you’d be home by now.”

“Sorry, I stayed to hang out with Melissa and Kai for a bit. I’m coming home now.”

“Okay,” he says softly.

Colin’s about to say something, when the phone hangs up. Looking at it in confusion, Colin wonders what that was all about.

------

He walks in the front door, kicks off his shoes, and hangs his bag on his hook. He pokes his head around the corner into the living room, and bites his lip when he doesn’t find his boyfriend. Walking into his bedroom, he’s immediately pounced on by a big, soft blob. Realizing that it’s his boyfriend, he hugs him back tightly, before pulling away to look at him.

Immediately, everything clicks together in his brain.

Rowyn, calling to check if he’s almost home, being unusually touchy, and wearing one of Colin’s big hoodies.

“Oh, Ro, you’re sick, aren’t you, babe?”

Rowyn shrugs and sits down on the bed, Apple rubs his hand, purring, while Colin changes out of his work clothes. He says “I don’t know if I’m sick. Just don’t feel good.”

“Aww, that sucks,” he answers,sitting down beside him and wrapping an arm around him, pulling him closer. The shorter man melts against him, cheek pressed to his shoulder and his arms wrapping loosely around him.

Colin brings one of his hands up to cup Rowyn’s head, and he subtly moves it around to check a fever, surprised when he feels no heat against his hand. In fact, he feels almost cool, and clammy.

Rowyn shifts after a moment, and Colin watches as his hand migrates towards his stomach.

“Your stomach bothering you?” he asks, despite knowing the answer, hoping for confirmation and hopefully more information.

Rowyn nods, and Colin kisses the top of his head, grimacing in sympathy.

“Are you nauseous?” he tries again.

“Not yet,” Rowyn answers, tucking himself further into Colin’s side, “Hmm, you’re warm,” he sighs.

Colin hums back, wrapping his arm around more snugly, so that he can reach around Rowyn and gently settle his hand on his belly. Immediately, he can feel the angry churning of the organ.

Rowyn squirms against his hand, pressing forward into the pressure, which pushes up a loud burp that seems to startle Rowyn, as he flushes red and buries his face against Colin, who just chuckles at the display.

“Have you had any real food today? You’re not just hungry?” questions Colin again.

Rowyn gulps down, and says thickly, “Definitely not hungry. I had ‘real food’ today, but I really don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“Fair enough,” huffs Colin with a slight laugh.

Unfortunately, that’s the moment that his own stomach decides to make itself known, grumbling roughly, reminding him that he hasn’t had dinner yet, and he is hungry. He bites his lip in consideration, unsure of the right course of action.

------

Much the way his hand migrates towards his belly, Rowyn himself migrates towards Colin. Being sick sucks for everyone, but Rowyn has always especially hated it. It’s one of the few times he has no control, and he’s essentially unable to be productive, which always bothers him.

Having a boyfriend though, especially one like Colin, means that he has someone who wants to look after him. And somehow this makes being sick less miserable.

As much as he doesn’t like his behaviour when he’s sick, when he gets clingy and whiny, it’s one of the rare times that he lets his impulses control his behaviour, and he asks for the attention and care that he sometimes needs.

All this to say that when Colin mentions needing dinner, he doesn’t hesitate to follow after him to the kitchen like a lost puppy.

While Colin stands at the stove heating something up, Rowyn plasters himself against his boyfriend’s back, attached like a limpet. He buries his nose in Colin’s sweater, grimacing against the fresh queasiness brought on by the smell of warming food.

They move in tandem towards the table, and Rowyn whines low in his throat when Colin breaks their contact, sitting down.

He catches Colin’s smirking at him, obviously enjoying his change in behaviour, though not his misery.

He pouts, sitting in the seat next to Colin, and curling one arm around his tummy, and folding the other on the table, resting his head on it.

As Colin starts to eat, Rowyn asks, “Can you talk? Distract me. Tell me about your day?”

Colin immediately starts up an endless stream of pool themed chatter, talking about the drama of the guard office, the interesting things that happened while guarding, and he’s ranting about one of his classes that can’t do any of the skills they should be able to do…

Rowyn appreciates the familiar, comforting sound of Colin’s warm voice, but he can no longer comprehend the words themselves, his stories fading into background noise as the noise from his stomach becomes more prominent.

He swears he can feel hundreds of insects crawling around inside him. His belly is full of swirling butterflies, and crawling caterpillars. It feels like millions of tiny ants are running across his skin, as the queasiness morphs into nausea.

Lifting his head up from his arm, he’s immediately assaulted by the much stronger smell of Colin’s meal, which, let’s just say, does not help his growing nausea.

He gulps audibly, and Colin freezes, eyeing him warily.

He slowly stands up, and the butterflies in his stomach start fighting to get out. He gags at the thought, and his hand flutters in front of his mouth for a moment before he trusts his stomach not to let it’s contents go.

He hurries toward the bathroom, until he’s on his knees in front of the toilet, distantly hoping that Colin followed him.

------

When Rowyn suddenly stands up from the table and rushes towards the bathroom, Colin fully expects to find him draped over the toilet puking.

Instead, Rowyn jolts forward with a gag, but nothing comes up. He goes perfectly still for a moment, before lurching forward with a deep burp that turns wet at the end, morphing into a heave, but still nothing comes up.

Colin quietly moves into the room, and sits next to Rowyn on the floor, placing a hand on his back.

He can feel Rowyn’s muscles clenching with every heave, but the empty gags continue seemingly endlessly.

After a few minutes, it becomes a near-constant string of burps, gags, and heaves.

“Breathe, Rowyn,” tries Colin, but he’s not listening, too caught up in the turmoil of his stomach to consider taking a breath.

When he notices the little tears clinging to his boyfriend’s lashes, he moves closer, wrapping him in a loose hug from behind.

------

Rowyn is caught in an endless cycle of misery, and for some reason, his body won’t offer any relief. He’s not vomiting, so yay, I guess, but he’s also very much trying to vomit, his body not giving him a moment of respite.

From the depths of his pain, he’s brought back to reality by a warm body suddenly covering his back. Colin, he thinks in relief, his body relaxing even the tiniest amount. This, combined with the gentle weight of Colin’s hands now resting on the small swell of his stomach, seems to finally be what he needed to throw up.

There’s a moment where he lurches forward and it’s as if the migration begins, as his stomach shifts, and suddenly his mouth is full of sour liquid that he releases into the toilet.

He feels Colin’s voice rumbling against his back, but the rushing in his ears makes it difficult to discern words, especially when he’s leaning forward with another heave that lets more of his insides take flight through his mouth.

Unfortunately for Rowyn, his body seems intent on dragging out the discomfort as long as possible.

Another gag produces another small quantity of vomit, falling into the toilet with a splash, but offering no lasting relief to Rowyn.

He continues to be pushed forward as his body contracts with heaves, each one expelling just a small bit of foul-smelling liquid.

When he’s finally given a small break in the heaving, his body immediately releases all the tension, dropping him to the floor in a heap. Colin pulls him back onto his lap, still muttering soothing words.

Rowyn closes his eyes, feeling spent. He still feels nauseous, but slightly more settled, Colin’s steady presence an immense comfort to him during his discomfort.

Colin seems to understand what he needs instinctually, offering all the physical comfort he can.

He gently kisses Roywn on the head, and he turns sideways to burrow into Colin’s chest.

This gives Colin a better view of his face, and he murmurs, “Oh, you’re still nauseous, aren’t you babe?”

Rowyn marvels at how well Colin knows him, as he nods gently.

Colin bites his lip, before asking, “Do you want to get more of it up now, or head to bed and see if it comes up on its own?”

Rowyn gives him a small smile, pleased with the clear choices. The fact that Colin recognizes that he needs to feel some sense of control over his body, and that logical choices are the best way for him to do that makes Rowyn feel impossibly seen.

He closes his eyes, leaning into Colin, who patiently waits for his answer.

He finally answers, “Puke more now, I can’t sleep like this.”

After another moment of sitting there, and pretending they aren’t waiting for Rowyn to throw up, Colin pushes him forward, and he forces his tired body to sit up and settle against the toilet. The porcelain feels unnaturally cool, after Colin’s comforting warmth, and he’s relieved when Colin moves forward as well coming to rest against him once more.

Colin’s arms snake around his body, coming to rest on his belly, and unlike before, he starts to rub circles with his hands.

The motion on his belly makes the nausea ever more present, and when Colin accidentally places just too much pressure on his stomach, he pushes up a deep belch that turns wet at the end, which is immediately followed by a gush of vomit.

Thankfully, this second burst of heaves proves productive, emptying his stomach much more quickly, as the toilet fills with vomit for a second time that night.

------

When Rowyn seems to finish throwing up this second time, it’s as if all his energy has been sapped.

He leans into Colin, letting him flush the toilet, and wipe his mouth with a piece of toilet paper. Colin bites his lip worriedly, knowing that ordinarily, as cuddly as Rowyn gets, he would still rather be as independent as possible. Him letting Colin look after these tasks is uncharacteristic, but then again, the whole night’s been a little off.

Colin helps Rowyn to his feet, and his legs immediately start trembling, hardly able to bear his weight. After a few steps, they give out completely, and if it wasn’t for Colin catching him, he would have landed in a heap on the floor.

Luckily Colin was already holding his arm and was able to soften his fall, eventually just picking him up, and carrying him back to their room.

Settling on their bed, he rummages around in their closet, throwing clean shorts and one of his softer hoodies at Rowyn, then nudging him until he sits up and starts to change.

As they are finally lying down, Rowyn curled up against Colin, he hums in contentment.

Voice muffled by Colin’s hoodie, but still audible, he says “I actually feel kind of better now.”

“Oh, good!” answers Colin, grinning as Rowyn yawns and snuggles in, reminding him of a cat.

Which reminds him, where’s Apple?

As Rowyn starts to fall asleep, Colin stretches to the side to grab his phone, sending off a text.

After a moment, Jamie slowly opens their door, a wide-eyed Apple in his arms. He pads across the room, depositing the cat on the bed, and gently saying, “We kept her in the living room, while you guys were… busy, and let me just say, it was not easy.”

Colin muffles a laugh into his hand, eyes darting to Rowyn, who doesn’t stir. He sighs in relief, and grins at Jamie, thanking him for the kitten delivery.

Jamie leaves, leaving the door open just enough that Apple could push it open if she wanted to leave. Though, currently, it doesn’t look like she wants to leave, considering she’s purring her giant squeaky purr, and using that special skill that all cats seem to possess allowing them to worm their way into the middle of any situation.

This is how Colin finds himself with both Rowyn and Apple curled into his chest, Apple’s purrs vibrating through his body, and Rowyn finally relaxed and resting, comforted by his boyfriend and the dulled nausea that no longer screams of impending doom.

He smiles softly at them, kissing Rowyn’s hair gently, and rolling his eyes when Apple glares at him until he kisses her too, her purrs intensifying when he does.

[when-jaguars-are-sick]

CHARLIE: Today Was Hell

A Charlie fic! I'm actually really in love with this one, even though I'm still working out a lot about her character. Beyond the pool, I haven't really explored my character's jobs yet, so this was a fun one to play with!

------

“Atchoo!”

“Atishoo!”

“No, don’t wipe your nose with your sleeve!”

“Okay, come wash your hands.”

“No, here, use a tissue!!”

Charlie leans her forehead against the wall in resignation. The daycare is insane today, and she knows she’s going to get sick.

It’s cold season, and what feels like the entirety of her preschool group came to play today while they're sick.

So now she’s playing nurse, and preschool group leader, and trying not to get sick. She’s working with Sophie and Dylan today, but Syd was home sick.

They’ve been running around all morning, shoving tissues into hands, wiping noses, shouting at kids to “cover you mouth”, and “cover your nose”, and “don’t sneeze on our friends”, and “keep your hands to yourself”.

It’s only lunchtime, and everyone’s exhausted.

They decide to have an early naptime, but it proves to be just as hectic, with lots of snot and crying.

By the end of the day, everyone is in tears, overtired from the nap-less day, and the rampaging sickness.

Charlie collapses into a chair after the last kid has been picked up, and scrubs her hands across her face in annoyance and exhaustion.

- - - - - -

She walks in the door to the flat she shares with her friends and someone (she doesn’t know who, her head is fuzzy with exhaustion) looks over, commenting “Wow, you look awful.”

“Gee, thanks,” she replies sarcastically, immediately heading to her room where she flops onto the bed.

Actually, she thinks, I should probably shower before spreading these germs any more.

Groaning, she stands up to shower.

After a very brief, warm shower where she scrubbed her body clean and only suffered from one dizzy spell, she drops into a seat at the kitchen table, her friends look at her in concern.

“What’s wrong?” asks Max.

“Awful day.” she replies, “Kids are awful”.

“Aww, you don’t mean that!” says Jamie

She sighs, “No, but they’re gross.”

“Oh, they’re sick?” questions Colin.

“Yes! All of them! It’s horrible, they’re all so unsanitary.”

She smiles thankfully as Rowyn starts dishing up the meal he made, and everyone digs in.

As soon as dinner’s finished, Charlie goes to bed, hoping to watch some Netflix, but instead, she falls asleep as soon as she lays down.

- - - - - -

Charlie opens her eyes, and immediately thinks, Shit, those rascals did get me sick!

Even though she slept for a blissful 11 hours, she’s still tired. There’s an ache in her bones, and even just sitting up makes her muscles scream in protest.

She rubs her eyes, and fumbles for a box of tissues off the shelf. Her nose is so clogged with snot that blowing it proves to be fruitless, moving none of the gunk from her sinuses.

Standing up slowly, she makes her way to the living room, where she’s confronted with the sunlight streaming into the room, drilling into her eyes and sending flashes of pain through her head.

Curling up on the couch, she covers her face with a pillow, content to sit in the silence and suffer in peace.

Of course, this doesn’t last long.

“Charlie!” calls someone from the kitchen, “Your phone is ringing!”

Sighing, she stands up once more, swaying slightly until she finds her footing. She walks into the kitchen and grabs her phone. Squinting at her screen she sees the date, and her stomach drops. It’s Thursday… she has to be at work in 14 minutes!

And of course it couldn’t end there, because Sophie’s sick today too. Which means it’s just her and Dylan. Which means she can’t call in sick. Which means that any kids who aren’t already sick will probably catch whatever she has.

She stands there staring at her phone, letting it all sink in.

“Charlie?” asks Jamie softly, “What’s going on?”

“Sophie’s sick today too.” she answers, her voice sounding all stuffy and nasally.

“Damn, cold season’s really hitting hard this year,” Jamie answers, moving to wrap Charlie in a hug.

She melts into his embrace, sniffling quietly.

Pulling back, she checks the time, and with only five minutes before she has to leave she hurries away to change into her work clothes.

Grabbing an apple and filling up her water bottle, she pulls on her shoes and is about to leave, already dreading the 7 minute walk to the daycare, and the 9 hour day as a glorified babysitter.

Jamie appears behind her, and offers her a ride.

“Do you really have to work today? It sounds like you could use a day off,” suggests Jamie as he pulls the car up to the daycare.

“Yeah, but I can’t leave Dylan all alone.” responds Charlie, mentally bracing herself for the onslaught of children.

“Okay. Take care of yourself. Call us if you need anything.” insists Jamie.

Charlie offers him a tired smile, and thanks him for the ride.

Walking into the daycare through the side entrance gives Charlie a chance to drop off her bag, and stop by the bathroom where she spends another two minutes trying to blow her nose, hoping to relieve some of the tension in her sinuses, to no avail.

Washing her hands, she heads into the main childcare space.

Normally they have just over 24 kids in the group, and they are required to have three staff, to stay in ratio. Today, when she walks in, she finds Dylan surrounded by 14 kids, she discovers after a quick head-count.

They start with circle time, by trying to wrangle the 14 3-6 year olds into a circle-resembling shape on the floor. Charlie slumps down onto the carpet next to Dylan.

He turns to her, raising an eyebrow in concern. She shakes her head in response, wincing slightly as her head pounds in protest of the movement.

It seems that most of the ill children stayed home today, so class is slightly less hectic than the day before.

They start circle time with some stories from the kids, then thankfully Dylan picks up the morning’s book and starts to read it aloud, because Charlie’s sure her voice would have protested.

Charlie pulls out the animal toys, and makes sure there’s enough for everybody. Then she pulls out foam shapes and wooden cars, laughing softly as the kids scramble for their favourites. Once the kids are playing, she heads to the kitchen to start preparing snacks.

As she’s reaching for the bag of apples, she hears Dylan call her. Cursing as an apple falls, she bends down to grab it, and when she straightens she has to blink spots from her vision. Once she can see clearly, she hurries over to Dylan.

“I’ll get the snacks today,” Dylan says, gently steering her towards the kids.

That’s probably a good idea, she thinks, I don’t think I’d pass health codes right now.

Sniffling miserably, she pads her way across the room, stopping to settle a dispute between two girls over who’s turn it is to play with the horse stuffy, and then once more to pick up a crying 3-year-old.

Bringing crying Ethan with her, she soothes him with a sheep snuggly, and bounces him around until he stops sobbing, just sniffling softly. When he starts to wiggle in her arms, she sets him on the floor and sends him off to resume playing which he does, now happily giggling.

She doesn’t notice when 5-year-old Olivia comes up to her until she feels a little tug on her pants. Looking down, she notices Olivia’s legs are crossed, and her hand tugging at her dress.

Olivia says “I hafta go potty,” and Charlie smiles, leading her over to the bathroom, which is specially designed so the kids can reach everything and go to the bathroom by themselves.

As she waits for Olivia to finish, Dylan comes back from the kitchen bearing apple slices and carrot sticks.

All the kids eagerly rush forwards for the snack, and Charlie makes sure Olivia washes her hands before joining them on the carpet and digging in.

Charlie uses this time to blow her nose again, sitting by the wall. She leans her head back against the wall, and closes her eyes.

Her eyes fly open again when she hears Dylan say “Why don’t we set up a movie for them this afternoon?”

She smiles at him gratefully and says “That sounds like a great idea.”

He rummages around his bag for a minute before producing a blister pack of pills.

“Here,” he says, passing them over to Charlie, “These might help, for the afternoon at least.”

“Thanks,” she murmurs stuffily.

She pops out a pill and swallows it with some water before starting to help kids wash their hands.

They get out some craft supplies after snack time, and let the kids colour and sticker to their hearts’ content. When they start getting distracted, and the papers and stickers are left on the floor, Dylan starts prepping lunch.

In the meantime, Charlie starts a game of tag, and watches as the kids run around squealing and jumping out of the way of the person who’s ‘it’. Keeping an eye on some of the younger kids, she’s pleased when they seem to be playing fairly.

Even so, she’s grateful when Dylan brings out sandwiches and applesauce for lunch, and the kids hurry to meet him, eagerly tearing into their food.

Charlie’s nose has started to run incessantly, and she hastily grabs a tissue to try and mop up some of what’s leaking from her nose.

She blows her nose and this time feels the momentary relief it offers, before her nose continues to run. Taking one last swipe with the tissue, she tosses it in the garbage bin and rubs some hand sanitizer onto her hands.

She rubs her forehead, despairing at the fact that they’re only half-way through the day. She pastes on a smile, turning back to the herd of small children.

Before they put on a movie, it’s time to go outside, and so they line up at their cubbies, and start putting on shoes and jackets. Working her way up the line, and helping with shoes, Charlie feels a renewed headache thumping through her temples, prompted by her awkward position.

She stands with a wince, and releases the kids to the play-yard. Some eagerly run forward and clamber up the play structure, while others stay on the ground hurrying toward various other toys.

She stands at the edge, watching them interact joyfully and use their imaginations in surprisingly complex games.

The fresh air does her some good, helping to clear some of the fog surrounding her head, but her jacket doesn’t do much for the cold she feels seeping into her skin.

After another half hour of playtime, she starts wrangling the kids together, leading them back into the building for quiet time.

Charlie spends a moment organizing the shoes and jackets before she makes her way back into the main area, and she’s surprised to find most of the kids sitting on the floor, chattering away.

She’s also surprised to realize that the cold she felt outside hasn’t thawed yet, and she shivers slightly as she turns to the next task at hand.

She flips through the movie options and settles on Finding Nemo. She sets up the movie and pulls out blankets and pillows so kids can nap if they want.

She pulls out a basket of juice boxes and clicks “Play” on the movie.

With the kids occupied once more, she settles to the floor, with a box of tissues next to her.

The movie successfully lulls a few kids to sleep, and others remain entranced by the story. Charlie appreciates the relative calmness as it lets her blow her nose as needed and relax her sore muscles. She slowly creates a mound of tissues, and her body trembles with little shivers as the movie plays on.

Already the congestion is back in her nose, so heavy she can breathe only through her mouth.

Her headache is back in ferocious volumes, the loud movie not helping.

The medicine must have worn off, she realizes.

She is extraordinarily happy when parents start returning and taking their kids home. Usually she’d be up there greeting all the parents, and sharing stories of the day, but today she just can’t find the energy.

Dylan, the wonderful soul that he is, offers to do the clean-up today and close up the building.

She nods thankfully, wary of talking when she feels seconds away from bursting into tears.

She pulls out her phone, and messages the group chat.

Is anyone free?

Immediately she gets a response, or two.

Max: I am, what’s up?

Jamie: I’m free, too.

Charlie: Could I get a ride home?

Jamie: I’m almost done here… I can be there in 10 minutes.

Charlie takes a minute to pack her bag, blow her nose again, and take a drink of water.

She says bye to Dylan and thanks him for his help and understanding today.

Then she goes outside to sit on the curb and wait for Jamie. He pulls up soon enough, and she gets into the car, slumping down on her seat and leaning against the door.

She rests her head against the cool window as Jamie starts to drive, and it feels so good.

“Hey, Charlie? You okay?” asks Jamie worriedly.

“Mm. Today was hell.”

When they get back to the flat, Max looks over from the couch before they rise and come closer.

“Jeez Charlie, you don’t look too good.”

She sighs, slumping against the wall, and burying her head in her hands. She feels a hand on her shoulder and looks up to see Jamie gazing at her in concern.

“Come on,” Jamie murmurs, wrapping an arm around her and leading her to the bathroom. He pushes her down until she’s sitting on the toilet. He rummages around and sticks a thermometer in her mouth.

Then he turns and twists the knob on the shower to turn the water on.

When he hears a beep, he turns back to Charlie and takes the thermometer.

He pulls out his phone and says “Hey Siri, what’s 101.8 degrees in Celsius?”

Charlie laughs a bit, before grabbing a piece of toilet paper to wipe her nose with. Jamie searches through the cabinet until he finds a package of Cold and Flu tablets. 

“101.8 degrees Fahrenheit is 38.7 degrees Celsius.” answers Siri.

Jamie says to Charlie, “Take a quick shower, okay? Then take this medicine, and we’ll watch a movie, kay?”

Charlie nods in agreement, uncurling and standing up.

She peels her clothes off and gets under the water. It’s pleasantly warm, and she basks in the feeling.

When she leaves the shower, she finds pajamas to change into, and realizes that the steam from the shower must have helped clear some of the congestion.

She blows her nose until she can breathe again, and then takes the medicine as Jamie had instructed.

Leaving the room, she finds a blanket nest in the living room, and nestles into it to watch a movie with her friends. For the first time all day, she feels somewhat peaceful.