#I will coat my nose in vaporub

[akkawi]

I hope I don't wake up with a nosebleed that lasts 2 hours again today

[invisibleraven]

OTP Prompt! Sick days and Rulie?

Julie was usually the early riser of the two of them, so it was fairly odd when she awoke Friday morning to an empty bed. Sitting up she was about to call for Reggie when she heard a barking cough echoing from the kitchen. Easing out of bed and into her fluffy robe and slippers, she trudged downstairs.

Reggie was sitting at the island, slumped over it while the kettle boiled off to the side. "Good morning cariño," Julie said, running her fingers through his hair.

"Blergh," Reggie croaked, lifting his head and Julie cooed in sympathy. His nose was bright red, matching his bloodshot eyes. Both made worse by the clammy, greyish pallor of his skin. "I'm sick."

"I can see that," Julie said. "That's what happens when you work with kids I suppose."

"I blame Marshmellow," Reggie said, referring to one of the kids in his class who was apparently very squishy and loved to dress in pastels. He had cute nicknames for all his kids, and Julie always delighted in hearing about their antics. "She was coughing and sneezing all over the place yesterday, girl doesn't know how to cover her mouth."

"To be fair my love, she is only two," Julie hummed, popping some bread in the toaster.

"Would be better if her damn parents kept her home when she got sick instead of infecting me," Reggie grumbled, then punctuated it with a volley of sneezes-all of which he covered, thank you very much. "I already called in, I don't want anyone else to catch this."

Julie poured up the kettle, letting Reggie's tea steep while she doctored her coffee. She then slid some pills across the counter to him. "Take those, drink your tea and go back to bed," she said.

"I'll sleep on the couch," Reggie said. "Don't want you to get this, I know you have that big presentation coming up."

"In like three weeks, I'll be okay," Julie replied, waving him off. She watched as he winced after downing the pills and offered him a slice of toast which he rejected. "You must be sick if you're not hungry."

"Pills make me queasy, don't want to tempt fate," Reggie admitted. He drained his tea and tried to stand, only to stumble. "And apparently my good friend vertigo has set in, yay."

Julie rushed to help him, the two of them slowly making their way back to bed. She grabbed a bottle of VapoRub, coating Reggie with it, and though he screw up his nose at the feeling, he at least felt like he could breathe again and muttered his thanks. "Get going, you're gonna be late for work, I'll live," he urged her.

Julie looked at the clock and cursed, he was right. But he looked so small and pathetic lying there. Plus she knew what a baby Reggie could be when he was sick and didn't want to leave him alone and suffering. She got out her phone and quickly texted her boss.

She then slid back into the bed, kissing Reggie's forehead. "I called in sick, you need me more."

"I love you," Reggie said. "But don't blame me when you catch this."

"I won't," Julie assured him. "Now close your eyes and try to rest, and when you get up we'll see if you can stomach some soup, okay?"

"Will you sing me to sleep?" Reggie asked, his voice small.

"Of course I will," Julie replied, crooning a quiet Spanish lullaby that her mother had always broken out when she was sick as a child. Soon enough Reggie's eyes slid closed and he let out a soft snuffly snore. Julie grinned and set back up, grabbing a book from the nightstand.

Surrounded by the scent of menthol and Reggie's little crackly noises, Julie decided she might as well enjoy her sick day, even if she was sure she would be in the exact same position as Reggie come Monday.

But hey, in sickness and health right?

[dearlyjinie]

sniffles & needles (m)

Pairing: Mark Tuan x reader

plot: there isnt any, Mark is horny and finds out that best way to get rid of a cold is sex...

genre: smut, 18+, pwp

Word count: 2.1k

warnings: pwp, masterbating (F & M ish), oral(m), teasing, riding, mirror sex(slightly) daddy kink, Dom-Mark, dom-sub play, dick pics, slit shaming, spanking, horny mark, grinding, fingering (f), creampies, vaginal sex, no protection (remember wrap it before you tap it) thats it i think?

a/n: just a lil something bc today is my bday 🥳and i wanted to give you guys a present lmao, but this is my way to improve in my smut so i hope you guys enjoy this, pls lmk what you think about this as always feedback is always welcome. 

 “You don't feel hot, wait let me take your temperature,” you lift your hand off your boyfriend's forehead, leaving him the living room sofa as you run to get the thermometer.

“I found it” sang, coming to see your sick boyfriend pouting, his arms wrapped around his torso “what’s wron- if you’re pouting because i won’t have sex with you, then you should stop” you say sternly, poking his cheeks, you motion him to open his mouth and insert the thermometer. 

“But whyyy” he whines making you roll your eyes at his childish antics “because your sick baby and i don't wanna get sick”  the thermometer dings letting you know that the time is up, you take it out of mouth checking the number displayed on the small screen. 

“Your fever is down,” you smile. 

“See!!! I'm all better now common babe” Mark gets up from his spot on the couch, pulling you close to his body wrapping his muscular arms around your waist. He nuzzles into your neck inhaling your scent, “please” he whispers, slowly grinding on your ass, you start to feel his bulge. 

Taking a deep breath, you pull away from your horny lover. You look at him annoyed, ever since he woke up he’s been trying to get you to sleep with him. No matter how much you wanted him at the moment you had to restrain yourself, because right now you couldn't afford getting sick, no it was not happening. 

You left the horny man in the living alone suffering from his demise, groaning he plopped down on the sofa he rubbed his face in annoyance “why did i get sick” he whined, coughing. 

“Here take this” you handed him a cough drop “and take off your shirt,” smirking, he put the cherry flavored medicine in mouth sucking on it, humming as it started to make his sore throat feel much better. 

“Oh so did I finally seduce you?” he said, taking off his shirt trying his best to be sexy as his hands reach down to pull the hem of his sweatpants, you stop him showing him the container of vicks vaporub that you held.

“I knew it was too good to be true,” he sighed dramatically, letting you rub the ointment on his chest “you hate me,” you laughed as he dramatically turned away. 

Just when you were about to leave, he tugged your arm making you fall on the sofa landing on his lap “but i love you” he said placing soft kisses on your neck. 

“M-Mark” you accidentally let out a moan, embarrassed you moved his hands from your hips and got off his lap “you smell like vaporub,” you tease running way.  Mark smirks as he watches you leave to your shared bedroom. 

He knew you were close to braking, there was no way he was gonna give up now; especially after hearing that sweet moan of yours. 

Sighing you plop down on your bed “fuck that was close,” you rub your thighs together feeling a familiar wetness starting to form between your legs.

Fuck 

You tapped your fingers on your bare thigh, trying to distract yourself from your urges when you heard the familiar ding from your phone letting you know that someone messaged you, hoping it was the update about your online purchase you picked up your phone only to see it was from Mark. 

Curious to see what he had sent you unlocked your phone. Wide eyed you dropped your phone on the bed, mouth agape as you tried to process what you just saw. 

It was dick pic, more importantly it was Mark's dick. 

Picking up your phone again, you opened the picture. It was an old one, you knew it because well...you've seen it before. He had his pants off leaving enough room to free his hard cock, he posed grabbing it by the base, the tip red and leaking with pre-cum. You licked your lips, feeling yourself getting more aroused by the minute as you imagined yourself tasting the salty taste of his cum.

 Your hand slowly travels south as the reach the waistband of your shorts. Spreading your legs, you gasped as you rubbed your slit. You wondered if he was touching himself right now thinking of you as you thought of him, if his tip is just as red it is in the picture, leaking with cum. You let out a quiet moan as your fingers found your gaping hole barley penetration as you gathered your juices and rubbed on your neglected clit. 

You heard another ding from your grabbing it you opened your messaging app, only to find a selfie of Mark. This time it was new, he is smirking at the camera holding from a low angle allowing you to see everything from waist up. You bite your lip, finally inserting a finger in you, as your eyes traveled to the small patch of his pubic hair, pouting seeing that you could only see leaking tip, and barely at that.

“Why are you pouting princess,” You heard Mark’s voice, quickly taking out your hands from your shorts you sat up leaning on the headboard. Smirking Mark walked up to you, naked “you know the best way to get rid of a cold is sex.” 

His dick stood up, tip angry as pre-cum leaked from it begging you to put it between your lips. You averted your eyes noticing him smirking at you, you felt the bed move as he climbed on it. 

“Don't look away baby girl,” he kissed your jaw, “I saw what you were doing,” he said, nipping at your neck his hands on your breast, squeezing it. Blushing, you felt his fingers on your chin turning you towards him, attaching his lips with yours, you finally gave in. 

Lifting up your shirt up your arms throwing it, Mark smirked looking at your exposed breast “god you’re so fucking beautiful” he says holding the soft flesh as he took your nipple in his mouth, moaning as he twirls his tongue on your sensitive bud. 

Arching your back, you pull on his hair with one hand as the other one slips into your shorts inserting a finger into your core desperately wanting to relieve the tension you felt, just as you are going to insert the second one you feel Mark’s hand wrap around your wrist pulling it out your shorts. You whine feeling empty looking at your boyfriend, bringing your fingers to his plump lips, inserting them in his mouth, letting a groan at your sweet taste. 

“You taste so fucking good, baby girl,” he places two fingers on your lips, telling to lick them. You gladly take them in your mouth, sucking on them. “Good girl,” he says taking off your shorts with his other hand. 

“So wet,” his fingers find your clit, drawing small circles on it as he gives you small kisses on your neck. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders as he finally inserts two fingers in you, biting on his shoulder as his pumps start to get rougher. 

“O-Oh fuck Mark,” you moan ridding his fingers as he pumps harder bringing you to your climax. 

Mark takes his fingers out of you sucking them clean, letting you catch your breath. “You good, baby?” he asked, caressing your face, kissing your temple. Nodding you get off the headboard, “sit there,” you point to where you were sitting, compiling he scooted over.  

“What now?” he becomes quiet when you grab his length pumping it, “let me take care of you daddy” you say wrapping your lips around his tip circling your tongue. You moan tasting the saltines of the dried off cum from earlier, letting it go with a pop. You take in his length in bobbing your head up and down. You feel his hand wrap around your hair pulling it into a makeshift ponytail pulling you off his dick, a string of saliva leaving your lips attaching to his tip “do it properly, baby” he says whipping saliva from your chin “ you don’t wanna get punished don’t you baby girl?”. 

He pushes your head lower, making you wrap your lips on his cock taking it all in “that's right, take my cock” you feel his pubic hairs tickling your nose, you grab onto his thighs steadying yourself as he fucks your mouth. 

He watches as you from the mirror in front as you lift your ass up, hands in your soaked pussy playing with yourself while he fucks his length into your mouth. 

“You’re such a fucking slut” he lands a hard slap on your ass making you whimper into his dick, “playing with yourself while sucking daddy off” he spanks you again.

You could his thighs flex under your touch, he’s close you think, taking him deeper in your throat. 

“Ah fuck im close,” he whimpers “are you close y/n?” with your mouth full, you moan out a small yes. 

“Oh god, come with me” he says, giving you his last thrust as he shoots his hot cum into your mouth, you feel your legs tremble, you came.

Swallowing, you look at him, dazed from your second orgasm of the night. You smile watching him catch his breath, you grab his semi-hard cock as it twitches in your hand, slowly pumping it. 

“Oh fuck, baby” Mark leaned his head back, hitting the headboard. You got on his lap attaching your lips together as you grind on his length coating it with your juices. 

“M-mark” you moan as you feel his tip rub your clit, you hover over his length aligning it to your entrance.  

You moan Mark’s name, feeling enter “holy shit baby, you’re so fucking tight” Mark says wrapping his lips around your tit. 

You move slowly and start to rock your hips faster, getting used to his size. 

“F-fuck yeah, just like that baby” Mark moans into your ear as you bounce on his dick harder, matching your pace he thrust harder, hitting your cervix. 

The room is filled with the sounds of your moan and skin slapping.

You felt the coil in your stomach tighten as your orgasm approached, “M-Mark, I” you tried to talk, with each thrust you felt like you were gonna break. Mark felt the way you clenched around his cock, and the way you gripped onto his shoulders “are you gonna come, Y/n?” he asked, not trusting your voice anymore you simply nodded biting down on his shoulder as you let pleasure take over “I’m gonna cum too, cum on my cock babe,” he said rubbing your clit bring you to your orgasm. 

Stars erupted over your vision for a second as you came. Your back arched while your cunt squeezed down on the dick that was still carving its way through you. 

“f-Fuck yeah thats my good girl, coming on daddy’s cock like that” Mark said thrusting harder, chasing his high. You felt his thrust getting sloppier as he neared his orgasm, his dick twitch inside you as he pumped his cum into, his torso pressed against yours. 

He held you close, staying inside still his dick got too soft to stay inside, he pulled out giving you a kiss.  He laid you on the bed next to him, watching you catch your breath “Thank you for that, now you’ll see i'm gonna be better by tomorrow,” he said laughing as he got off the bed to get a wet towel to clean you and some water.

Smiling at him you waited for his return, ready to cuddle and go to sleep when all of a sudden you felt your throat start to tickle, you ignore the feeling thinking that your throat is most probably sore from the blowjob till you start to see the oh so familiar sensation of your nose being tickled and you let out a sneeze. 

“Fuck” 

* * *

“I'm sorry baby,” Mark cooed as he warps you around a blanket, you caught Mark’s cold because neither  you or your boyfriend couldn't control your hormones so now you are the one to suffer from the consequences. 

“Well you know” Mark starts off as you take a sip of your tea, “to get rid of a cold it's best to have se-” before he was able to finish the sentence you threw a cushion on his face, laughing he raised his hands up admitting defeat. 

“At least it worked the first time” he whispered, scrolling through Netflix in search of something to watch. 

[got7thotsss]

More Than That- Jackson

Warnings: Swearing probably, slightly angsty Summary: Y/n gets sick and roommate!Jackson takes care of her. Pairing: Jackson x Reader Word Count: 1.8k A/n: This was just a lil idea I had on the way to college one morning lmao. Enjoy xoxo

You glared over the top of your computer at your co-worker blowing his nose obnoxiously loudly. Your boss calls over, telling your co-worker to show you something. So, he gets up, walks around to your computer and starts tapping away at your keyboard with his gross germ covered hands. He’s leaning over your shoulder, chatting away about the numbers on the screen. After five minutes of you attempting to lean away from the germ pool that is your co-worker, he coughs on you and that’s when you snap.

“Are you kidding me? If you’re sick, at least wash your hands after blowing your nose. And here’s a thought, maybe don’t cough on people. You’re actually disgusting Sungmin!” You exclaim, abruptly shooting up out of your seat.

“Y/n, what’s all this commotion about? You guys are supposed to be trying to work together.” Your boss states anger evident in her tone.

“I’m sorry, but he needs to think about personal hygiene man.” You respond, holding your hands up in defence.

Your boss lets you both get back to work, but makes sure to keep an eye on you, just in case anymore yelling occurs. You manage to keep your distance from Sungmin for the rest of the day, sending him glares every time he looks your way.

The minute you walk into your apartment, Jackson is there, taking your coat off, asking you about your day. The usual. No wonder you fell for him, after all these years of you guys living together. Every time you arrive home this happens. Every. Single. Time.

Jackson has been your roommate since your first years at university. You’ve had a thing for him since halfway through that year. Jackson has had feelings for you since he first laid eyes on you. It’s been a wild ride for the both of you. All of your friends are aware of the mutual feelings between you both, but so far, they have failed in trying to get either of you to believe them.

“It’s strange to think that we’ve been out of Uni for over a year now.” Jackson says out of nowhere. You’d both sat down to eat some soup and dumplings, before you relax for the rest of the evening.

“Oh yeah, we’ve been living here for like over five years now. God, we’ve both aged.” You respond, making Jackson laugh and splutter his soup all over the counter you were both sat at.

“What makes you think we’ve aged?” He questions, as he wipes the soup/saliva mixture off the counter.

“Erm, maybe the fact that it’s only six thirty and I’m absolutely exhausted.” You respond, taking a sip of water.

“Not the fact that neither of us have drank since the birthday we were dragged to four months ago, and even then we only had one each, then snuck back here to finish binging that series?” He questions, making you inhale to laugh mid-sip. Your water then goes all over the counter, as you choke on the liquid.

“That could be a telling sign too.” You answer, as you start to clean your own mess off the counter.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

It’s not even been a week since Sungmin coughed all over you and yet you have already caught his cold full swing. You’ve just finished having a coughing fit into the crease of your elbow, when your boss approaches you, a serious look across her face.

“Y/n, I’m afraid I’m going to have to send you home. Your coughing and sniffling is distracting everyone else from their work. I can get Sungmin to look after your accounts until you get back. Which will be when you’re 100% better, I don’t want you getting anyone else sick.” She states, you look at her in shock.

“So, you didn’t think to send Sungmin home when he was sick? Typical. I’ll be back next week.” You say, leaning down to grab your bag, then picking your phone up of the desk, “Thanks for letting me have this time off.” You then make your way home and full on crash.

Jackson was expecting an empty house as always when he got home. Unfortunately, when he enters the house, he notices your heels haphazardly scattered in the entryway. He follows the trail of your various items abandoned in your apartment and finds you snuggled into the living room carpet. You’re wearing a small pair of shorts, some fluffy socks and one of Jackson’s oversized hoodies. He takes a moment to admire you, despite the snot that has dripped from your nose down your cheek, or the small puddle of drool you’re leaking onto the floor.

He then turns and leaves the apartment, returning fifteen minutes later with near enough an entire pharmacy. I’m talking every flavour of Lemsip he can find, every different kind of Soother, Paracetamol, Ibuprofen, VapoRub. The works. He wanted to do everything in his power to make you feel as comfortable as possible during your sickness. He piles it all onto the kitchen side and starts making his special stew that you’ve both been eating whenever any of you are sick ever since the both of you moved in together.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

One week into your cold and you’re just getting into the thick of it. You have never been more fed up with an illness in your life. Until now, your breathing had been alright, but you have to start using the VapoRub to help get you through the night.

You hear Jackson turn the shower off in the bathroom and all but run over to the door, in order to bombard him when he’s not busy. He walks out, body glistening with the beads of water, fluffy orange towel wrapped around his waist. His eyebrows furrow in confusion when he spies you waiting for him, but realisation washes over him as he notices the tub in your hand.

You lost your voice a few days back, so you had to deal with gesturing till it decides to reappear. You point to your back, before quickly tying your hair up in a bun to get it out of the way. He nods, whilst taking the tub out of your hand, enabling you to sort your hair out. Once you turn around, letting him know you’re ready, he starts rubbing the menthol onto your back. He takes his time, trying to get every inch at least twice.

You notice him starting to walk away after he finishes, but grab his arm to stop him, “I’m just going to wash my hands.” He states, chuckling slightly.

You shake your head at him, then gesture to your chest. His eyes widen as he realises what you want, but he nods and starts to rub the ointment onto your chest. You don’t miss the red tinge on his cheeks as he rubs lower, the strappy top you decided to wear revealing a lot compared to the more conservative t-shirts you usually wear around the apartment.

As he starts massaging it in further up, he catches your eyes with his own. This leads to a staring contest as Jackson sensually rubs his hand across your chest. He breaks the eye contact by looking down to your lips, then swiftly back to your eyes. You shake your head as he leans in. You see the hurt flash across his face, he pulls away and turns his back to you.

“I’m sorry, I thought that was a thing we both wanted.” He says, before walking into the bathroom. You silently groan, of course the one time one of you made a move would be when you’re sick and refuse to do something about it. You try to speak up to explain that it isn’t like that. You just don’t want to get him sick, because that would make you feel super shitty.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

After an extremely awkward week, you’re finally well enough to go back to work. Despite thinking that you don’t reciprocate his feelings, Jackson still puts the VapoRub on you every night. None of you talk, you because you can’t, Jackson because he just feels too awkward. He feels stupid for finally believing your shared friends and doing something about his feelings for you. You feel absolutely terrible for letting him believe that you don’t want to be with him.

After a long day of work, you get back to an empty apartment. You make your way to the kitchen to start up dinner and notice a note stuck to the fridge stating that Jackson took on an extra lesson at the fencing club and won’t be back till 7:30. You decide to make him his favourite meal as an apology. You’re going to wait until he gets back and explain everything to him.

Jackson walks through the door at 8:47pm. An hour and seventeen minutes later than he originally stated. To say you’re angry is an understatement. You are absolutely livid. You think about all of the things you can say to him, but ultimately the anger dissipates as soon as you see him. He’s wearing sweatpants and a muscle tee, dripping in sweat. He must’ve gone to the gym after his lesson in a bid to avoid you some more. He looks at you, evidently shocked that you’re sat at the counter with a meal set out.

“What’s all of this about?” He asks, annoyance still evident in his tone.

You don’t respond. You just get out of your seat and walk over, until you’re face to face with him. He opens his mouth to speak again, but you cut him off by placing your lips on his. He immediately responds to the kiss, allowing one of his hands to rest on your waist, as the other cups your cheek to guide the kiss. You place your hands on his chest, then slide them up to rest on his shoulders.

After you pull away, questions start pouring out of his mouth, “Jackson, shush. I didn’t let you kiss me last week because I was sick and I didn’t want you to get sick. It was a nasty cold.”

“Okay then, we have a lot of making up to do then.” He says, smiling brightly and dragging you over to the sofa. You spend the rest of the night on the sofa, slightly watching whatever is on the tv, but mostly making out and cuddling. The last thing you remember of the night is falling asleep on the sofa. You’re not surprised when you wake up in your bed, that happens most of the time when you fall asleep in the living room. What shocked you was waking up to Jackson also being in your bed. You smile as he leans over to kiss you, before moving away and getting up out of the bed.

Your heart sinks as he starts to cough violently, “Looks like you did get me sick after all Y/n.”

You open your mouth to start apologising, when he suddenly stops mid-cough and winks at you, before making his way out of the bedroom.

“That was such a dick move, Jackson.” You call out after him, throwing a pillow in the direction of the door.

[akitokihojo]

In Between: Chapter 7

Alright, before jumping right in, I wanted to give a warning about some of the sensitive material to expect. There’s descriptions of dead bodies, mentions of drugs, and a bit of violence up ahead. Nothing is horribly graphic, I promise! Anyway, here we go! The longest chapter yet!

Previous chapters can be found in my fic masterlist, as well as on AO3 and ff.net.

----------

Abi Phoenix's Residence

The creak from the rusty gate’s hinges echoed in the night, the sound eerie and torturous to the senses. Even as a human, Hojo could tell something was horribly wrong as they slowly made their way around the weed-inhabited, untended walkway at the side of the house, leading to the front door. Mindfully, he pushed his coat aside so that his hand could sit on the grip of his gun, sparing his partner a small glance so that she knew to be prepared for anything. Something told him he should have known Sango was one step ahead of him, as per usual. In fact, the pistol was already in her grasp, the muzzle aimed at the ground as she gave a curt nod to him.

The windows were dark, curtains from within making it impossible to see inside. Hojo began to slow, signaling to his partner behind him to stop. He could see from his angle that the door was ajar. It was a distressing mixture of ice and flames that licked through his bloodstream, his heartbeat beginning to drum, the rhythm growing bolder behind his ribcage. He slid the gun from its holster, squeezing the grip as he continued on and stepped up the single step of the porch. He could feel Sango’s presence literally inches behind him. Carefully, he nudged the door open with his shoulder, extending his arms in front of him as soon as the entrance was widely accessible, pistol at the ready and leading the way.

Very little light trickled in from the street lamps outside, shadows crawling and creeping over the majority of the home, so both he and Sango retrieved their flashlights, clicking them on as soon as they were level over the barrel. The home was in complete disarray. Dishes were piled up in the sink and over the surrounding counters, the trash looked like it hadn’t been taken out for months, floors were grimy, and junk was stacked and crammed all over the house. As Hojo swung his light over the filthy counters in the kitchen, roaches fled from immediate sight. This wasn’t signs of a break in. This was signs of negligence. Possibly hoarding, as well. The detective fought off the urge to grumble in disgust.

“Hojo.” Sango called from somewhere not too far down the hall. Immediately, he headed her way, a powerful stench tainting his nostrils the further he went. His face scrunched into a grimace as he grunted, unable to cover his nose with both hands occupied.

“What is that?” He whispered. The house hadn’t been cleared yet so it was still important they remain quiet, though it seemed pretty obvious no one was home. Or, at least, no one should be in a place like this.

“I don’t know, but my guess is it’s coming from one of these rooms.” She used her flashlight to illuminate the two doors, both of which were just barely hanging open.

Nodding, Hojo stepped before her, inching toward the closest door. His partner, staying by his side, checked down the hall to their left, the bright light flicking from corner to corner until she was satisfied with their evident lack of company. The smell was putrid; something he’d never encountered before in his life. There wasn’t a single hint of resemblance he’d be able to pick out from the odor that would help him describe it to anyone who may ask what caused his stomach to churn or his eyes to water in this manner. And as he reached the door and pushed it open, it became so overwhelmingly powerful he had a hard time swallowing the bile that threatened to lurch through his esophagus.

Holding his breath, he quickly flung his flashlight about the room, searching for the source of the smell. The bedroom was crowded and cluttered with junk and objects, a walking path nonexistent to anyone who wasn’t perfectly familiar with their surroundings. On the bed, there was a large, unmoving lump. Sango tried to pinch his coat through her busy hands, a whispered warning slipping from her lips, but he ignored her, stepping through to shine his light on the decomposing body of an elderly woman.

The cramp in his lungs quickly became too much, and suddenly Hojo was inhaling the worst breath of his life. Immediately, he heaved dryly, the burning sensation short-lived as his mouth filled with vomit and he turned and ran back to the hall quick enough to puke away from the victim.

Sango stepped back with a violent shudder. Quickly, maneuvering past Hojo’s crumpled, hurling form, she stepped to the second bedroom, kicking it open to reveal the decaying body of a young woman sprawled along the floor of her untidy bedroom. She could feel her stomach growing weaker, the lump in her throat building until she gave a weak gag and turned away.

Unclipping the bulky walkie talkie from her belt, Sango called in a code, alerting units of the bodies within the house as Hojo stumbled further away from the bedrooms, still doubled over and clutching his abdomen.

—

“Three weeks?”

“I’d estimate, yes.” The coroner nodded, guiding Sango and Hojo back into the house and towards the bedroom. Windows had been opened, lights had been turned on, and the two were given Vaporub to generously apply on their upper lip which would help fend off the awful odors that had brought them down before. As they reached the beginning of the hall, the three of them idled at the edge of the living room, allowing two officials to pass with a stretcher and bodybag containing the remains of the elderly woman.

“What’s the cause of death?” Hojo asked.

“For the mother, it was a simple gun shot to the head. She was ill and bed-ridden, so there didn't seem to be a struggle. Though, her decomposition was a bit more advanced than Abi's." Ayame answered, waiting patiently as they slowly wheeled her through.

"What does that mean?"

"It means, she died at least a day beforehand. Abi wasn't so lucky. From the looks of her condition, she was tortured for hours before she was killed. And there's something else you'll want to see, follow me."

The two detectives followed the woman down the hall, still able to catch minor whiffs of the rancid odor left behind, but nothing that debilitated their senses anymore. Taking the small curve in the hall, they stepped into Abi's bedroom, her body in the same spot as when Sango had first seen her. Now that the room was properly illuminated by both the ceiling light and tripod lamps provided by the investigators, the pool of blood staining the carpet around her body was clearly visible. Bruises and lacerations decorated her thin body like ornaments on a Christmas tree, poking through her torn and stained clothing.

Ayame knelt down next to Abi's body, handing both Hojo and she a pair of latex gloves. Her own hands were already covered in the material as she set to showing them details of her markings beginning at the dark blue and purple line across her neck.

"So, I've done a little digging into your perp's old files. Looks like old habits die hard; strangulation is still part of his M.O., but it wasn't her cause of death. If you look closely, you can see several different contusions along her neck created by what I would guess to be a thin wire of some sort. Some are darker than others, so I'm thinking he would cut off her air passage as a way to scare and torment her, then continue on with his other tactics." Her hands drifted down towards Abi's legs. "There's no evidence of rape, which also fits this guy's typical M.O.. He's never once raped a woman or child, but there is a bit of bruising on her inner thighs that I find peculiar, along with a bite mark here just above her knee. What's important here is-"

"He left his DNA behind." Sango finished, mouth hung slightly agape.

"Exactly. I've already sent in a sample, so we should have solid confirmation of who did this shortly. Do you think he's getting sloppy?"

"No, this was intentional. He must have known we were onto him." Hojo said, gently moving aside the woman's black hair to inspect a bruise on her forehead.

"But how?" Sango asked, shifting her disconcerted gaze from the red-headed doctor to her blue-eyed partner. "This happened about three weeks ago, right? We only found out about Naraku escaping two days ago, and Inuyasha's hunch was the day before that. I agree that this was deliberate. He knows what he's doing. The only mistake recorded was his incidental slip with Abi so many years ago, leading to his downfall."

"Do you think that was on purpose?" Hojo asked.

"No. I think that was a legitimate overshare. He's a good criminal, but he's not perfect. The thing is, we didn't know about him this long ago so why would he leave behind his DNA?"

"Wait," Ayame spoke, green eyes shadowed by her furrowed brow. "The neighbors mentioned to the investigators outside that it wasn't strange to not see Abi or her mother for weeks on end. As I previously mentioned, her mother was ill. Abi was her sole caretaker, and they didn't get out much - if ever. The windows were sealed tight, and the only way for most of the smell of their decay to leak was through the crack in the front door. If it were Summer, their deterioration would have been accelerated causing the smell to grow stronger and travel, and the neighbors no doubt would have called it in, but with how cold it's been and how spread out the neighborhoods around here are, they never smelled it at all."

"And since no one was able to alert the authorities given the circumstances, the only other reason for us to check Miss Phoenix's household was if he was already a suspect." Hojo added. He looked at his partner who was already staring back at him, her dark eyes direct and serious.

"He wanted us to know." Sango said. 

"Yeah. It's like he's three steps ahead of us."

"He's had a seven month head start. It makes sense."

"Koga wasn't kidding... you guys really are dealing with a twisted murderer."

"A twisted psychopath is more I like it. What killed her?" Sango asked, sighing out and shaking her head, her long, brown ponytail spilling over her shoulder as she following Ayame's fingers.

"One stab wound to the right side of her chest, and three to her abdomen. She bled out slowly." She answered, moving aside Abi's clothing to make the lacerations visible to them. "There's - uh - one more thing, though."

"What?"

"I'm gonna warn you, it's a real kicker." Ayame seemed nervous as she rose to a stand, her fingers fidgeting before she clenched them into a fist. The two detectives stood as well, waiting for the coroner to guide them. She took in a deep breath, giving them an uncertain look before swallowing so thickly it was audible and gesturing for them to follow her to the master bathroom.

The large mirror above the sink and adjacent walls were decorated with dozens of taped-up polaroids, causing Sango's skin to crawl madly. She moved in closer, fully taking in the photographed people, her stomach plummeting to the floor. It was all of them. Pictures of herself walking just outside her townhouse, getting dinner, with her younger brother, on a scene with Hojo. Koga and Ayame walking hand-in-hand. Hojo with his mother outside of the holistic pharmacy she ran, drinking in a coffee shop sitting across from another male. Inuyasha with a woman she'd never seen before, her long, black hair glistening even in the low-quality image. These photos and more littered the bathroom, making her feel sicker than she had when they'd first discovered the dead bodies.

Cautiously, Hojo plucked a photo from the edge of the wall to his right, slowly handing it over to Sango. She tried to hide her shudder, tried to bite back the tense exhale that burned her throat but couldn't, the image of her and their team Psychologist, Miroku, kissing on his porch step, door opened behind them as they were about to enter was now evidence in their case.

"Looks like we all get to feel a little bit of what Inuyasha's been going through now." Ayame sullenly mentioned.

"Does Koga know yet?" Hojo asked.

"Are you kidding? He's the last person I plan on alerting. I need to give myself a chance to get my job done before he becomes my full-time, temperamental watch dog and distracts me." She said, shaking her head as she left them to finish up.

"I know what's going through your head." Hojo quietly said now that he and his partner were alone. Sango, staring at the pictures in front of her, shook her head and gave a breathy laugh, one that described how high her stress levels had climbed in the recent minutes. "How long?"

"A few months."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because at no point did I ever think he and I would become something serious." Still, she avoided eye contact.

"Have you?"

"This picture is from last Friday." She chuckled again. "I've been staying over at his house lately because this case gives me the creeps. So, yeah. I guess you can say he and I have gotten pretty serious."

"Sango-"

"Don't! There's so many important things that needed to be focused on at the moment, I thought it could wait. I never once considered that you, or Koga, or I, or even Ayame would be caught in the crosshairs of this mess. And now, so is he." She responded, piercing him with a daring stare before pulling her cell phone out of her back pocket and exiting the room.

SVU Precinct

The team stood around stiffly, awkwardly, leaning against tables, or sitting with their knees bobbing. It was obnoxiously quiet in the precinct, the early hours of the morning from their sleepless night making it all even worse. Slight scuffling in the background from officers passing through was easily and oddly muffled by their tense breathing and irritable mannerisms.

"So," Sango spoke, applying most of her upper body weight to the table in front of her, Hojo standing along the corner only a few feet away. "Who want's to be the one to say it?"

"Say what?" Inuyasha asked sternly, knowing damn well they were alluding to something pertaining to him.

"I'll fucking do it." Koga volunteered from his seat at the other end of the office.

"Oh, no. Not you." Sango shook her head, stopping him just as he'd directed his deadly stare towards his partner.

"Why the hell not!?"

"No offense, but you're not the best at breaking things to Inuyasha nicely. Especially when you're in a mood." Hojo claimed.

"Can you guys not talk about me as if I'm not here?" Inuyasha growled.

"The mood is justifiable!"

"I'll just do it." Sango rolled her eyes.

"Why would you ask if you're just gonna-"

"Sango!" Totosai called as he entered the precinct. His tone was severe, lips curved downward as he beckoned her to follow him into his office. Hojo was the only person to keep a flat reaction, his eyes falling to the wood. The other two stared curiously, eyes burning a hole through her back.

"On second thought, how about you do the honors?" She mentioned to Hojo as she walked away.

Totosai waited at the door, throwing it shut the moment the detective was through. She stood behind the chairs, clutching the back of one as her captain heatedly stomped over to his desk, dropping a thick file down before speaking. "I expect stupid things from Inuyasha and Koga. I expect stupid things from Hakkaku and Ginta. Hell, I would expect something stupid from Hojo before I'd suspect something this idiotic from you. Do you know how bad it looks that I can't keep my team in line? It's like I have to babysit you lot and make sure you're doing things by the book! It makes this department look like it's full of amateurs, myself included!"

She stayed quiet, accepting the verbal punishment she was receiving.

"How long has this been going on? No, wait. I don't want to know. What I do want to know is why you wouldn't immediately tell me?"

"In retrospect, sir, I thought it could wait." She answered honestly.

"You know better, detective. When two members of the forces are in a relationship, it needs to be reported. You know damn well that I have no choice but to bring this to Internal Affairs - the very people we've been trying to avoid due to the circumstances of this case!"

Sango winced, a measured guilt weighing on her chest. "Can they actually take the case from us now, though? It was originally an SVU investigation that's just been reopened."

"You know very well that they can."

"That can't happen! Inuyasha's counting on us! I won't see Miroku again, I-I'll remove myself from the case! Problem solved!"

"And then I'd be left with two accessible detectives." Totosai sighed.

"It's better than losing the case!"

"Is it?"

"Yes! This is my fault! I'll take the fall, but don't let it affect anyone else! Don't let them take it!"

"Detective-"

"What do you want me to do? How do I fix this?"

He paused, rubbing his temples before plopping down in his seat, rolling backward slightly from the force. The silence was agonizing to Sango, the round clock on the wall behind her ticking so loud she could have sworn there was an echo. She watched as her captain's buggy eyes looked away, studying the far wall to his right as his nails tapped his head in beat with the passing seconds. Her palms were sweaty and slippery against the wood of the seat she clasped, and her breathing increased in anticipation as the click of his tongue signified he was about to speak. Leaning forward an inch or two, the elderly man pulled four polaroids from the front pocket of his shirt, tossing them on his desk for Sango to retrieve, all of which were images of her and Miroku together.

"I snagged them before they were officially submitted into evidence. You better hope we catch this bastard before he releases more photos of you two together, or else you and I will receive the ass chewing of a lifetime. And count your blessings, Sango. I won’t be able to cover for you like this again. Keep everything with Miroku on the down-low for now. We’ll figure it out later.”

She nodded thankfully, snatching the pictures up and shoving them into her pocket. Totosai motioned to the door, excusing her as he ducked his head into his file of paperwork. Hastily, she did as instructed. Her captain had a bad habit of making people sweat before coming clean and letting them know they were off the hook. She’d never once been on the receiving end of it, and hopefully never would be again.

Shutting the door behind her, she rejoined the group, the air about them slightly less dense than before but still murky; the exact opposite of what she’d been expecting. 

“What was all that about?” Koga asked, using her as an obvious change to the subject they were speaking.

“Oh, nothing.” Sango quickly answered. “Just some paperwork I’d made a mistake on. What’s up?”

Inuyasha gave a rough groan and stood from his seat, walking around the corner with exerted control over his demeanor. “I’m getting some coffee.”

“Turns out,” Hojo spoke as soon as Inuyasha disappeared around the corner. “The woman pictured with Inuyasha is actually his ex.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I’m surprised he was willing to say anything about her. Even I hardly know his personal shit.” Koga mentioned, walking up to join them so they wouldn’t have to converse loudly.

“I guess she has a history with drugs. She was clean and healthy for a good while, and during that time she and Inuyasha dated. Toward the end of August, she relapsed and left him.” Hojo said.

“So, if you think about it, Naraku really didn’t waste time in tracking down Inuyasha.” Sango pointed out.

“Not at all.”

“Is there more?”

“Yup, but it’s more for drama, less for the case.” Koga smirked.

“Go on.”

“Looks like she reappeared at his door around November or December. She was asking for money and jonesing hard. He took her in to help her break the habit, all the while he and Kagome were whatever the hell they were. Kagome came over without warning, saw his ex, and peaced the fuck out.”

“Oh, so that’s what happened.”

“Guys, he’s gonna come around the corner any minute now and hear us gossiping.” Hojo warned.

“Alright, so big issue here is he has no idea where his ex is now.” Koga continued, lowering his voice. “She left in the middle of the night, and as far as Inuyasha knew, she hadn’t completely recovered. He’s checked the system religiously over the last however many months, and she hasn’t turned up arrested or dead. Now that this picture’s turned up, he’s obviously going to be worried that this sick creep has gotten to her.”

“Geez, this guy can’t catch a break. Not that it’s relevant, but how long did they date.”

“Not sure. Couldn’t have been too long, but that doesn’t stop a guy like him from caring.” Koga replied.

“How do we help?”

“You can’t.” Inuyasha remarked bluntly, reentering the room with a steaming mug. “There’s more important things for you to concentrate on.”

“Inuyasha-“

“Let it go.” He said with a hint of finality.

“You want answers, don’t you?” Koga crossed his arms over his chest, following the half demon to his desk.

“What, like you’re capable of giving them to me?”

“What’s your deal with not accepting peoples’ help? Why are you so headstrong?” Sango asked, a sting of acid in her tone. “You were so bent out of shape when Kagome didn’t want your help, but you sit here and do the same thing with us. She, at least, had a reason to resent you. What’s your excuse?”

Inuyasha winced, words escaping him as he stared back into her dangerous glare. “It’s… none of your business.”

“Maybe you’re right, but you know what is? Kagome’s safety. The case, and her well-being, are technically our responsibility.” She declared, gesturing back and forth between her and Hojo with her finger. “The more you’re distracted by your ex-girlfriend’s potential involvement, the more chances we have of your focus slipping.”

“What the hell are you saying?” Inuyasha growled, placing his cup on the desk before stepping toward her.

“I’m saying,” Sango challenged, echoing his motion and stepping inward. He stood only a few inches taller than her, and although he had demon blood, she’d learned over the years that that wasn’t anything she couldn’t personally take. “We can’t allow that. It’s time for you to grow up. You want to handle things on your own, but look how well you’re doing so far. You’ve been looking for how long now?”

He didn’t answer, slanted ember eyes daring her to proceed. So she did.

“How long, Inuyasha?”

“Four months.”

“Since the day she left, I bet. Maybe we can get you answers you weren’t capable of finding on your own, maybe we can’t. That’s not the point. What matters is that at the end of the day, you’ll finally be able to say you put your best foot forward and exercised all of your resources for once in your adult life. So do me a freaking favor and write down her name, last known contact information and address so we can get the ball rolling, because unlike you, we don’t have time to waste.” Sango pushed passed him, grabbing a sticky note pad and pen and slamming them on the face of his desk as incentive. For a moment, he only stared at her incredulously, but she didn’t budge or falter. Her expression was unapologetic as her deep brown eyes looked straight through him. Giving in, he pulled out his phone and wrote down the contact information he had saved, sliding the pad toward her hand and without a word, she peeled the note free, shrugged her brows carelessly, pushed passed him once more, and stomped out the doors to the precinct, her partner following behind with an annoying look of amusement.

—

It was several hours before Sango and Hojo sauntered back through the doorway, their lips curving solemnly. Koga had been waiting to head out with Totosai to check in with Naraku's parents, dropping his feet from the top of his desk at the same time that Inuyasha stood from his own as they marched in.

“No, don’t fucking tell me you found her that quickly.”

“We didn’t find her, no.” Hojo admitted. “But we do know she’s alive.”

“How!? Where is she!?”

“We don’t know, exactly, but-” Sango said, her tone much softer than before.

“Then how do you know!?”

“Let them talk!” Koga barked, efficiently shutting his partner up.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, her number is disconnected and she’s no longer at the address you gave me. So, we blew up the photo of you two in evidence and took to the streets. Hojo surprisingly has a couple of connections with some undercover agents from his own time as one, and they were willing to help.” She could see the effort on Inuyasha’s face as he kept it as straight as possible and swallowed his questions for later. “There’s a few well-known dealers downtown if you know where to look, and it’s guaranteed they won’t want to speak to a cop, so that’s where Hojo’s buddies came in. One of these dealers recognized Kikyo, and told us to hit up a woman named Hitomiko and let us know where to find her; that she’d know her whereabouts since they were close.”

“Hitomiko runs a church-based shelter not too far from his location.” Hojo picked up. “She’s a nun. Turns out, Kikyo would often stay at the shelter after she’d lost her place. Hitomiko was apprehensive about talking with us at first, but after showing her the picture of both of you and proving to her that you were a detective we worked with and you only wanted to know she was okay, she gave in.”

“Inuyasha, Kikyo’s in rehab.” Sango said, a small smile gracing her lips. “She left town and started over in a completely different timezone. She calls Hitomiko to check in whenever she’s allowed to make phone calls, and their last conversation was on Wednesday - she figured you’d want that last little bit of validation. Kikyo’s gonna be fine. And yes, it was that easy.”

Inuyasha could feel the tension in his muscles slowly easing, deflating almost. It was like a huge weight had finally been lifted from his shoulders. Physical evidence would soothe him all the more, but it wasn’t attainable and that was something he could accept. What was important was that she was okay. She was seeking treatment. She was far from Naraku. He didn’t have to worry about her getting caught up in this mess; he figured if he did, the bastard would have been rubbing his nose in it all along with just as many polaroids as he’d sent of Kagome. But he hadn’t. The one today served as nothing more than a reminder, maybe even a taunting message, and hopefully that’s how it would remain.

Already, he felt his mind growing less muddled with endless thoughts of protecting someone he physically couldn’t. Sango was right. He needed to concentrate on the one woman that deserved his undivided attention right now. There was still a part of him that wanted to ask for more; what timezone was she in? What facility was housing her? How was she fairing with money if she was in a shelter just before? But he bit his tongue. None of it was his business. As much as he cared, as much as he worried, Kikyo was still his ex-girlfriend. All he needed to know was that she was safe. The rest he could let go of.

“Thank you.”

Inuyasha’s Residence 

The water ran hot as Kagome scrubbed the dishes clean, acknowledging what Inuyasha said from the other room with a simple hum. He’d recovered from the other night without a word of what had plagued his mind, and she couldn’t help but still be worried. She tried not to show it around him. His plate was full, and he’d taken her in on top of it all. Maybe he was just stressed or tired, but she felt like it had to be something more. Something terrifying.

She’d stopped asking what was wrong after he admitted he needed her. Though talking about your problems usually helps alleviate pain, even she could admit that sometimes it did the exact opposite and could even potentially make it so much worse.

They stood by the entryway table for a while, then she slowly began to back up, adhering to his request and never parting, guiding him to his large mattress that sat just beyond the open living room area. He never resisted, completely trusting her until she had reversed their places so the back of his knees would graze the bed. Inuyasha had stood up straight just then and gazed down at her, the air of him slightly reserved but still pleading for something as he brushed the backs of his fingers up and down the skin of her arms. Kagome hadn’t really made a plan; she’d only thought it would be better to get him into bed considering how he was acting and the time of night. In all honesty, she didn’t know what to do. All she understood was that she absolutely hated seeing him this way, and if he was going to do so much to protect her, she could try and do whatever the hell she could to protect him from what he was going through.

Wordlessly and carefully, Kagome pushed the jacket from his shoulders, allowing him to slowly shimmy it off and drop it to the floor away to the side. She pulled the badge free from his belt and set it on the nightstand, cautiously looking from the gun holster on his side, to his eyes, then back as she reached for it. Surprisingly, Inuyasha never stopped her, allowing her to lift the entire thing up to unclip then very gently place it beside his badge. Her fingers fiddled with the buttons of his dress shirt, working her way down and pulling the wrinkled ends out from the confinements of his pants. He didn’t need instigation that time; he pulled at the bottom of the grey sleeves, removing his shirt and dropping it away from them.

“Lay down.” Kagome whispered. Inuyasha toed his shoes off and sat on the edge of the mattress, his ember eyes glowing within the shadowed walls of his bedroom. His hands idled on his thighs, clenching into weakly-formed fists then relaxing open again, and then drifted across to her legs to pull her a few inches forward to stand between his own.

“Kagome-“

“I’m not going anywhere.” She promised softly, reaching over to undo the knot at the crown of his head. His long silver hair fluttered down his back and she threaded her fingers through to smooth out the crease, watching his eyes close briefly as he finally began to relax. 

“Just a little bit longer.” He murmured, ducking his stare nervously, his fingers gliding to the backs of her thighs.

“As long as you need.”

He gave her a nudge and she following his lead without thought, bringing one knee over his thigh, then the other to completely straddle. There was a moment as they sat there, the bouncing light from the television hardly reaching their corner, the night still and silent, that a magnetic force began drawing her in. She'd fought against the current relentlessly for weeks that now that she'd finally given in, she'd realized she'd been so afraid of drowning when in actuality she was able to take her first breath of fresh air in who knows how long. It was almost liberating. Even as her lips dangerously hovered just an inch or so above his mouth, so close that his features blurred, compelling her to gently drag the tips of her fingers over his bottom lip and chin.

Inuyasha inhaled through his nose as he clutched her close at her waist, hoisting her up slightly as he supported her weight while climbing backward on the bed, turning them both on their sides as their heads reached the pillows. Shimmying downward, Inuyasha nuzzled into her chest just below her chin, his breath hot against the bare skin exposed from her loose, v-neck top. His hands pushed inside of the material, rubbing up her back to keep her where he needed, his ear giving a minute twitch as she sighed out comfortably.

For hours, she stayed with him like that, gently massaging his scalp to soothe away tension, incorporating her nails here and there just because she knew he loved that. She even found herself placing her lips to his head at certain points, unable to stop the old habit from resurfacing. Not wanting to stop the old habit from resurfacing. He’d fallen asleep fairly quickly, his hold on her slackening, but she couldn’t peel herself away. Not from lack of trying, but from the selfish desire to retain this peace for as long as physically possible, forcing herself to stay awake as long as she could so she could consciously live in the quiet moment where the dangers that haunted them ceased to exist.

She’d woken up early the next morning to the half demon carefully removing himself from their embrace, whispering for her to go back to sleep as he pulled a blanket over her body. She’d rubbed her eyes and asked where he was going, her voice just short of a whine from sleep, and he responded with a soft smile, pushed the hair in her face behind her ear, pressed a kiss to her head, and whispered once more that he was heading to work.

In the last two days, everything seemed comfortable and normal. He was either feeling better, or was swallowing his stress very well, which was the exact opposite of what she’d wanted. Obviously, she’d prefer he’d open up and let her in, but she couldn’t blame him for being apprehensive when they’d had a wedge between them for too long. Not to mention, she understood that he would always be guarded when it came to discussing work matters. That didn’t stop her from worrying that there was still something weighing down his mind; that something might bring him crashing down once more.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?”

Kagome looked over her shoulder as she tumbled out of her thoughts, noticing the half demon stomping forward. A mischievous and playful giggle escaped her as she turned her body to try and block his view as she rinsed the soapy plate in hand as quickly as possible.

“I told you I’d do the dishes, you dummy!” He barked, using his hip to try and push her out of the way.

“Whoops! Sorry, all done!” She beamed, stretching across him to place the last dish on the drying rack. 

He kept pushing her aside, dipping his hands in the still-running faucet and flicking water at her, making her laugh as she failed to block her face. "I've never met anyone who doesn't take up an offer to have the dishes done for them."

"You're doing the exact same thing now!"

"You cooked dinner, I should wash the dishes! That's the way it goes!" Inuyasha flicked water at her one last time before cutting the stream.

"Oh, hush."

"That's the way it's been with us since the very beginning."

"Maybe so, but you're doing enough for me at the moment." Kagome said, her tone taking on a small air of seriousness. She could feel her cheeks flush warmly as she averted her eyes to the side, suddenly finding herself too nervous to directly look at him. "You're letting me stay here, and you've been making sure I'm taken care of. The least I can do is the chores."

"No." He gave a half smile, fully facing her as she leaned against the counter near the stove, crossing his arms as he confidently cocked a brow. "It's not your responsibility."

"And I'm not yours."

"No, you're not." His charisma never faltered, even as he took a step closer. "I protect you because I want to. You know why that is?"

Kagome's face felt uncomfortably hot as she stared at his defined forearms directly in front of her, subconsciously wishing he'd relax them and come even closer. And even as her wish surprisingly came true, and the half demon caged her against the marble counter, ember eyes sultry and beautiful, her nerves flared and her mind became muddled and she realized that her subconscience was a dangerous tool. 

"You - uh - didn't want Naraku to hurt me." She managed to answer.

"More than that."

"Then why?"

Inuyasha smiled again, a breathy chuckle brushing passed his lips. "You know why, Kagome." His voice rumbled.

He pushed himself from the counter, exiting the kitchen.

Kagome stood there, mouth hung slightly agape as he disappeared from sight. When did this happen? When had she fallen down this hole again? When had she become so completely submerged in this guy that there was no need nor desire to find the safest route out? Was it the other night when she'd finally let go of all reservations? Sure, probably. That made sense. More importantly, though, did she even have the right to feel this way after everything that had happened? Maybe it was just one of the side effects of being a victim. He was her knight in shining armor, after all. She'd been so vulnerable that maybe, just maybe, the safety he was engulfing her in was enough to confuse her emotions. 

Then again, she knew what it felt like to love him. And this - this sensation that overwhelmed her mind and sent a thunderous wash over her heart - was achingly familiar.

Did she have the right?

Was it still okay to love Inuyasha?

Kagome had no control over her body as she stepped away from the counter, her bare feet softly patting against the wooden floor.

Was the timing wrong?

She followed his path.

Would he turn her away?

Did he feel the same?

What was she even doing?

Inuyasha stepped around the corner of his bedroom donning a wife beater and some sweats, freezing in his tracks as the intensity of her brown eyes sent a riveting chill down his body.

As much as she tried to reason with herself, there was no stopping. Not even as it became much harder to breathe steadily, or even as unsolicited tears burned at the base of her eyes. Kagome's legs, though slow, kept moving until the two of them stood only inches apart. She waited to observe the body language he'd respond with. He'd stiffened a little, but didn't move aside in the slightest. In fact, when she reached to touch his upper arms, her fingers skimming over the shading of the large tattoo she hardly noticed from how acquainted she was with his skin, he welcomed her in, gently clutching the backs of her elbows to keep her there.

"You okay?" Inuyasha asked.

"I'm not sure, maybe a little crazy."

"What's new?"

She smiled, relaxing against him as she finally built the nerve to slowly press up on the balls of her feet. "Please-" Her breath hitched, interrupting until she gathered herself once more. "Please, don't pull away. Not yet." Kagome whispered.

Carefully, languidly, she pressed her lips to his, the fluttering within her stomach easily dying off as warmth flushed through and calmed her system. She came back down to her heels, sighing out shakily as she blinked her eyes open. There was a part of her that wondered if she should let him go, and just as she tried to deduce what may have been going through Inuyasha’s mind at that moment, he released her elbow and threaded his fingers through the raven hair at her temple, pushing back her waves and gently grasping the locks at the back of her head, tilting her chin up with a small pull to meet his gaze.

“I don’t want you thinking for a single second that I’d ever pull away from you.” He said, his voice husky and undeviating as he curved down to kiss her again.

He started soft, absolutely no haste behind the fluidity of his lips. It was like a spark hitting kindling, slowly catching and building, eating the material that withered away mercilessly just so it could stand a chance to climb and scorch the tower of wood standing above it, igniting heat and light, growing, growing, growing, growing. Inuyasha pushed against Kagome, spinning her around to back her against the wall he once stood in front of. He refused to release her silky hair from between his fingers, refused to travel away from the smoothness of her cheek, kissing her harder as he found himself afraid that it’d end. She was just as fervent, her hands pulling at the thin shirt over his torso, wrapping around his waist to bring him in closer, the wife beater bunching up at the sides as she reached under to feel his flesh. He breathed her in, the flames that built in the pit they stood in licking through his veins, fueling him as his tongue swiftly grazed her bottom lip only to bring him painfully crashing down as his work phone erupted from across the room.

“Fuck!” The half demon hissed after breaking apart, hovering above her mouth with the reigning threat that he’d ignore the call just to feel her kiss-swollen lips again and again and again. Kagome pressed up, kissing him slowly, bringing an involuntary rumble from the depths of his chest.

“Answer your phone.” She whispered.

“No.” He kissed her again.

“Answer it.”

How the hell was he supposed to comply when she was making it so fucking hard to be more than two inches away? Her spine was curving to press more firmly into him with each kiss, and he couldn’t stop himself from moving his hands to her waist to feel the way she arched.

“If it’s Koga, he’ll just call again.”

He groaned, hating that she was right. Hating that he had to give up his hold on her. Hating that he was now marching across the room to answer a stupid call from stupid work that was going to make him go to a stupid job when all the stupid people he worked with avidly told him he should be at home with Kagome.

“What?” Inuyasha harshly answered the blaring cell. 

There was a moment where Kagome watched Inuyasha listening to the details he was given, his lips pressing into a thin line as he exasperatedly shut his eyes.

“Why the hell would I go with Ginta? Where the hell is Hakkak-" A pause. "Of course he is. Yeah, fine, text me the address.”

“Gotta go?” Kagome asked as he hung up, biting her bottom lip.

“I’m sorry,” He shook his head disbelievingly. “It’ll be quick, though. I promise. Just a house run to check in. Since everyone’s working on our case, I have to pitch in with some of the rookies and-”

“It’s okay.” She giggled.

"It'll be quick." He swore again, his expression serious.

"Even if it's not, I'm not going anywhere."

He nodded, like he'd gotten an answer to a question he'd wanted to ask, and crossed the living room, passing her by to enter his bedroom. She didn’t follow or move from her spot, knowing he was changing into work-appropriate attire. As he emerged, he curved around her, gently pushing some hair behind her ear as he placed a scant kiss to her forehead.

“Call me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

“I’ll be back.”

“See you.”

He locked the door on his way out, the loud click of the heavy bolt securing her within his home.

—

Kagome gently pat her cheeks as she finished her evening routine, her skin glowing from the sheen of the creamy night moisturizer she’d just finished applying, turning out the light as she exited the bathroom. There was an eeriness in the silence and dim-lighting that unsettled her in Inuyasha’s apartment, something she never seemed to notice while he was around, bringing her to recognize she was inside her own mind again. She turned on the tv to break the quiet as she unfolded the quilt on the head of the couch to prepare for bed, making everything as cozy as possible for herself. Before bundling in, she headed to the kitchen for a glass of water, the grinding sound of a key in the bolt grabbing her attention at the edge of the room.

It had only been thirty minutes since he’d left, but she couldn’t help the smile that grew on her face as she watched the knob turn and the door open.

“You weren’t kidding when you said it’d be qu-“

“Hello, beautiful.” The arrogant, thin-lipped grin of the pale man from the coffee shop beamed at her from the doorway, stealing her breath as she notably felt her expression fall.

As if he belonged, the man closed the door behind him, his thin, black ponytail swaying with his steps. His smile never gave, nor did his menacing stare, as he dug into the front pocket of his black jeans and pulled out a gold key, slapping it on the face of the entryway table. “Thought I’d give back the master key to your apartment. Looks like the boss man forgot to return it to your landlord sometime ago. He never noticed it was missing, did he?” He asked, a smugness radiating from his tone.

Kagome didn’t say anything. She couldn’t as the wrenching fear crawling through her body steadily switched her mind into fight or flight mode. How did he get in? How was he here? This was the one place she was safest, and he had just waltzed in as if he was a cosigner on the lease. In answer to her silent question, he raised the key he’d entered with, wagging the metal gloatingly.

“I’ll admit, this one was a little trickier to get considering he keeps his spare at work.”

Her brown eyes flickered across the room, swiftly landing on her cellphone she’d left on the end table by the couch, then back to the man’s slanted, violet eyes. His smile grew wider, more toothy, and she knew she hadn’t been casual enough.

“Nah-ah-ahhh…” He taunted, beginning his walk toward her. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

She dove as fast as she could, reaching for the phone but falling incredibly short as she was violently knocked down by the demon’s unbridled strength and speed. He’d said something more as he grabbed a handful of her hair - something mocking - just as she was trying to stand, easily throwing her to the side and further from her phone, but she didn't hear it through the thumping sound in her ears. There wasn’t one thing Kagome could concentrate on in that moment; no action plan she could logically create. The only thing she could manage was flailing her body to make it impossible for him to dominate, kicking and twisting her hips to make it too difficult for him to fully straddle her.

The man punched her in the cheek as he grew frustrated, trying to still her, and as fatigued as she was quickly becoming, she didn’t give up. Thankfully, his palms had grown sweaty in their struggle and the arm he'd gripped slipped free. With as much might as she could muster considering their proximity, she flung a clenched fist at his face, smacking him in the jaw with the side where her curled fingers met her palm, her wrist stinging slightly from the impact.

He lost his balance and fell to the side, scampering after Kagome as she hastily crawled away from him on her hands and knees. She felt his nails scratch her lower back as he tried to grab onto the hem of her pajama shorts, his claws digging into the back of her thigh as he missed. She yelped, kicking back and hitting what she guessed was his sternum or diaphragm from the sound of the desperate wheeze that left his mouth. She was able to get to her feet then, but before she could get far, the demon had recovered and was beside her, wrapping his fingers around her neck and flinging her backwards to the floor.

He squeezed her throat without cutting off her breathing, hurting her but not choking her, his claws digging slightly into the flesh he wrung. As soon as she got passed the shock, Kagome began squirming, her fingernails digging into the hand he pinned her with while trying to bend and knee him hard enough to let her go. He smiled, jostled slightly by her attempts but otherwise unaffected. He was angled perfectly so that she could only strike his backside. His long, black hair fell from over his shoulder, skimming and tickling the skin of her now-exposed abdomen as her tee-shirt rode up from her frantic movements, and she watched as his eyes narrowed, a small chuckle showing how much he enjoyed her vulnerability.

Kagome couldn't hide how terrified she was. He was so much stronger than her, so much faster. She hardly stood a chance, and she couldn't help but wonder how long she'd be able to last against him. How long would he toy around before killing her? If she kept up the struggle, could she keep the bastard busy until Inuyasha got back?

No. She didn't have time to wait. That wasn't an option right now. She needed to get out and run as fast as she could to find help. Screw the phone, screw everything.

It was difficult to battle her body's main reaction to fight the man's hand against her, especially as he began applying pressure to her air way, but she finally managed, throwing her fist up to collide with his face. She hit his cheek and he hardly flinched, so she quickly hit him again, punching his nose. A brief thought struck her as he released her neck, clutching his nose in pain, and she aimed down a little, striking his throat with as straight a wrist as she could control. The demon choked, falling back onto his ass, and Kagome, though coughing slightly, crawled away again. 

She was exhausted already, and her body was shaking as she got back on her feet, spinning around as the man rose with a fierce scowl furrowing his features, blood dripping from one nostril. She looked around for anything to protect herself with, caught off guard when he ran at her. She backed up quickly, a small scream escaping her sore throat from the panic, bumping her head against the wall as he caged her with his arms.

The man slapped her again and again. Kagome tried to push him away, to stop him, but he was fervent and furious. He grabbed her by the hair and directed the turn of her head with a sharp yank, thrashing her temple against the light switch, and she cried out. She begged him to stop, but all he did was move in closer. She whined and quivered, and he laughed and licked his lips, still holding her head to face the side. Kagome blinked open her eyes as he whispered grotesquely in her ear, eyes pinning on the table lamp a foot away. Her hand reached out and she grasped the neck of the ceramic, swinging it sharply to shatter against the side of the demon's head.

He was dazed and wobbly for a moment, his hands slackening on her as he stumbled back a few steps. Before he could recover, before his demon blood re-alerted his senses, Kagome smashed her body into his, bringing the both of them crashing to the ground. She didn't waste time in her assault, straddling his waist as she struck his face time and again, only hoping to keep him so uncoordinated that he wouldn't be able to chase after her as she fled. 

There was blood leaking from his scalp where she'd hit him with the lamp, drenching the roots of his hair and the majority of his pointed ear. She sat there on top of him, trying to gather herself in that instant as she stared at the dark liquid. The adrenaline coursing through her was causing her to shake wildly, and she understood there was no point in idling. In one final act to bring the demon down from power, Kagome slowly dragged her nails against his cheek creating an angry red to swell behind the trail, small sprinkles of blood coming to the surface and keeping her from getting carried away. He was done. He wasn't fighting. She needed to run.

Kagome didn't waste another second, stumbling off of the man as she assembled control over her muscles, running at the door to fling it open, and throwing herself outside.

[i-am-a-shining-star]

In Sickness and In Health

Read it on my AO3! : https://archiveofourown.org/works/19449763

Blaine gets sick; Kurt goes overboard trying to take care of him because it reminds him of the months leading up to his mother’s death. Dalton!Klaine

-

Groaning as he slowly drifted awake, Blaine squinted at the white light piercing through the blinds of his bedroom. He took one shallow, ragged breath before his lungs choked up and he began to cough helplessly. Wincing a little, he reached over to his bedside table and fumbled around for the box of tissues kept there. Uncoordinated fingers pattered blindly against the cool surface, but he couldn’t quite get to it from his current position buried under the thick duvet. Huffing an annoyed breath, he wriggled a little further to the edge of the bed and stretched his arm taut, eyes still closed as he tried his best to grab it- until, suddenly, he had lent too far over and managed to flick the box off of the edge, whining as he heard it unceremoniously land on his bedroom floor.

His movement caused Kurt to stir. Tightening the grip around his waist a little when he felt Blaine move to slide out of bed, his brow furrowed gently and caused his nose to crinkle in a way that would have made Blaine’s heart flutter had he been able to open his eyes.

“Where ‘re you going?” He muttered, caught halfway between awake and asleep.

Blaine sniffed. “Sorry, just dropped something…” He coughed again, the sound ringing loudly in the open room. Kurt blinked awake, nearing complete consciousness in a few seconds and shuffling closer to Blaine’s side of the bed.

“Blaine? Are you okay?” He placed a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder, feeling the clammy skin and gasping softly. “Oh my gosh, you’re burning up- you must be sick!”

“It’s nothing bad, honestly,-” Blaine began, but was cut off as Kurt’s cool hands began pressing all over the nape of his neck and cheeks and forehead, leaning into the welcomingly cold touch.

“No, no, Blaine, you’ve definitely got a fever…” Kurt was now sat up on his knees, crawling over to brush the curls back from his face. His eyes flickered rapidly from one area of concern to another- his dark circles, rosy cheeks, and overall sickly complexion. His heart rate began to pick up rapidly. “You look terrible.”

Laughing breathily, Blaine rubbed his itchy nose with the back of his hand. “Geez, that’s just what I like to be told by my boyfriend first thing in the morning.” His voice was nasally, his throat sore and dry. “Come on, we need to get ready for school.” He made a start to clamber out of bed, when he felt a surprisingly strong grip on each arm pulling him back.

“No way, Mister,” Kurt said sternly. “You can’t risk making yourself any worse. We’re staying here so I can look after you.”

“Kurt…” Blaine sighed. “You can’t miss school because of me . Go, I’m sure I’ll be okay after a day of rest. Plus, I need somebody to borrow notes from, and you’re the only person in all of my classes.”

“Not a problem, I’ve got us covered.” Kurt was frantically tapping away on his phone, texting their classmates. “Wes for History, David for English, and Hunter for French.” He dropped the phone on the sheets and hopped out, moving around to Blaine and gently laying him back down to tuck him in. “There, that’s better,” He mumbled to himself. Blaine looked up through sleepy eyes, confused but not completely hating all of this extra attention.

“Okay, I’ll go and get you something to eat. Are you comfortable? Do you need another blanket? Extra pillows?” He reached behind his head to fluff up the ones he was currently resting on. “Should I get the fan? You’re still pretty hot.”

Blaine smirked. “You really think so?-” His flirting was interrupted by an untimely sneeze, which he just about managed to cover with his hands. Kurt jumped to action immediately, retrieving the lost tissue box from the carpet and whipping one out, using it to pinch Blaine’s nose, rubbing it carefully. Blaine scoffed, blushing and turning his head away a little. “I’m okay, Kurt. I think I can blow my own nose.” He chuckled.

Kurt frowned, before remembering he had promised them both breakfast. “Back in a sec.” He said, quickly pushing back the stray curls kissing Blaine’s skin before pulling on the Dalton sweatshirt he loved to steal from him ( ‘It smells like you…’ He admitted when questioned by Blaine ) and disappearing downstairs.

-

Jumping a little when he hears the door kick open, Blaine wakes again, having briefly dozed off in Kurt’s absence. His head feels like it’s packed with cotton wool, somehow heavy and light at the same time- however, he doesn’t have much time to think about it before he feels something freezing being pressed to his temples, causing him to let out a small moan of content as he allowed his eyelids to flutter shut.

“You poor thing…” Kurt whispered, kneeling at his bedside and daintily brushing the cloth across his slanted cheekbones, collecting droplets of sweat. Blaine peeked out of the corner of one eye, glancing over at the tray Kurt had brought back with him, laden with enough medical supplies to put the local drugstore to shame.

“What’s all this?” He croaked.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Kurt turned to his little station. “Just some Tylenol, some Vaporub, ice water, tea with honey and lemon, and french toast. Homemade, duh.” He chuckled, popping two pills from their packet and handing them to Blaine.

He sat up, blinking as the room around him blurred at the edges, swallowing the tablets with a gulp of water. Kurt pushed the blankets back under his ribs as he lay back, smoothing down the rumpled sheets before pulling the plate holding their food onto his knees and cutting the French toast into small, bite-sized pieces.

“Open up,” He said, pointing a fork with a cube of toast speared on it towards Blaine.

“Hey, I can feed myself, you kno- Mmf!” Blaine was only half sat up before Kurt took the opportunity to stuff it into his open mouth, smiling as he watched him chew.

“Wow, ‘s good!” Blaine said through a mouthful of warm, syrupy cinnamon. “You made this in 10 minutes?”

“Trust me, it’s the least I can do.” Kurt grinned down at his lap, cutting up more little pieces to feed to Blaine, who begrudgingly allowed him to do so.

“This is much more than I would ever expect you to do, Kurt. You really didn’t have to. Thank you.” Blaine sank into his pillow, holding back a sniffle so Kurt wouldn’t dive back in with another tissue… Not that he wasn’t grateful, he thought, it was just a little much. He shouldn’t be weirded out by what was actually a very considerate act of kindness when he was in such a vulnerable state, but he could also feel the nervous energy radiating off his boyfriend, which worried him a little. More than a little, really.

“Okay, I went through your DVD collection and picked out a couple of your favourites to pass the time. Which one first- the Aristocats or the Sound of Music? ”

Blaine hummed. “The Aristocats.”

Kurt nodded in agreement, climbing back into bed and popping the disc into Blaine’s laptop. He slid an arm back around Blaine’s shoulders, tangling fingers in his thick, un-gelled curls and massaging his scalp. Blaine purred and snuggled into Kurt’s shoulders, smiling as the opening theme played.

-

An hour or so later, the movie credits began to roll. Blaine glanced to his right and found that Kurt had fallen asleep, nose buried in their shared pillow and his arm still draped around him. Feeling a twinge in his belly, he realised that he needed the toilet. Badly. But, his clingy boyfriend wasn’t likely to let him brave the ten-second journey alone, so he would have to be sneaky. Blaine shifted out of Kurt’s grip, slowly and painstakingly, trying not to squirm too much. He managed to replace himself with the pillow he was laying on, stifling a giggle when Kurt enveloped it in a hug before wandering out into the hallway to go to the bathroom.

“Blaine?” He heard Kurt call as he finished up his business and washed his hands.

“Here!” Blaine replied, breaking out into a coughing fit again as he stumbled back into the bedroom.

“You should have woke me up if you needed something!” Kurt scolded, up out of bed in seconds to lay Blaine back down. “Does your chest hurt? I can make some more tea, if you give me a minute. I went through the medicine cabinet, but I couldn’t find any cough syrup, do you want me to go and buy some? Hold on, let me get my coat-”

“Kurt, please, calm down,” Blaine grabbed his boyfriend’s hand, trying his best not to sound so hoarse in order to be taken seriously. “I promise you, I’m alright. I can make it to the bathroom without you, I’m not a baby.” They last sentence came out a little harsher than he intended, and he regretted it almost as soon as he said it.

Kurt’s cheeks flushed bright pink, his hand wriggling free from Blaine’s- hurt now twisting in his stomach alongside panic. He felt his throat cramp, and tried to swallow it back before Blaine noticed, but he was too late.

“Oh, Kurt, I- I’m sorry,” Blaine stammered, sighing. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done today. It was so kind of you to stay off school to be with me, and the food you made was amazing. It’s just that you seem to be going sort of… Over the top, I guess?”

Surprised by how little it took to push him over the edge, Kurt’s gaze fell down to his fidgeting hands, blinking rapidly to dry his eyes. Blaine cautiously laced his fingers with Kurt’s, checking to make sure the touch was welcome, and reassured when he felt Kurt squeeze back.

“It’s okay. I mean, it isn’t, but I understand.” Kurt began, hyper-aware of the way his skin prickled with goosebumps at the discomfort blooming in his chest whenever he was forced to speak about this.

“Talk to me.” Blaine spoke quietly, calmly. He ran his thumb across Kurt’s knuckles like the ivory keys of a piano, looking up at him with a warm, concerned gaze.

Kurt took a deep, shaky breath in.

“When I was younger, and my mom got sick, I used to think it was all on me to help her feel better.” He picked at the tassels of the knitted throw he had pulled across their laps earlier.

“It was fun, at first. Playing her little nurse.” A sad half-smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “I thought it was just like all the times I’d caught a cold. That it was something that could be fixed with chicken soup and a Disney movie. So, everyday, I would go into her room and do all of the things she did for me when I was ill.” He felt warm, salty tears drip onto his and Blaine’s fingers, running through the crevices like a river descending the mountains.

“But, obviously, it was much worse than that. She stopped playing the game after a while, when things started to get really bad. I tried to sneak into her room when I thought my Dad wouldn’t notice, but she wasn’t even awake most of the time I managed to get past him. I just couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her alone to struggle, I wanted to make sure she had everything she needed…”

Blaine’s head was filled with heartbreaking images of a tiny, eight year-old Kurt curled up at his mother’s side, trying his best to nurse her back to health. Braiding her hair off of her face, and patting her brow with a cool cloth, and giving her warm tea to sip through a straw, reading aloud from the books he’d borrowed for her from the school library... He couldn’t believe he’d been so inconsiderate and ignored what was the painfully obvious reason for Kurt’s irrational behaviour.

Fearing he wouldn’t be able to find exactly the right words to comfort his boyfriend, Blaine pulled Kurt into his arms, letting him slump down and bury his face into his chest, breathing in the deep, herbal aroma of the vaporub he’d insisted on applying to him earlier. Snaking his arms around his back, Blaine rubbed his palms flat against Kurt’s trembling shoulder blades.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt turned his head to the side, rubbing his nose with the tissue that Blaine handed to him. “I didn’t mean to make this all about me, or anything. I just… I don’t really talk about it anymore. A lot of people don’t know what to say, so I figured it would just make things less awkward if I keep it to myself.” He brushed the stray tears away from his eyelashes. “But I guess now you know why I get so crazy whenever someone I love is sick…”

Blaine’s heart swelled in his chest at ‘love’ , but he decided to save that conversation for another time. He hugged Kurt tighter, pressing his cheek into his (for once) unkempt hair.

“I’m really glad you told me about this. I’m proud of you for opening up, and honoured that you trust me enough to be so vulnerable.” Blaine patted his back and pulled away from the hug with a soft, genuine smile. “But, I promise you I’m going to be okay. I only have a cold, and it’ll almost certainly be gone by the end of this week. You don’t need to miss out on your life to wait for me to get better.”

Kurt nodded timidly, smiling as he felt Blaine kiss the top of his head.

“I’ll still be here for you every day after school. Then, we can watch as many movies and eat as much french toast as your heart desires.”

Kurt laughed, Blaine’s soothing words taking the edge off of his frayed nerves. He sank back into his embrace, overwhelmingly grateful that he had such a kind, understanding boyfriend.

“I do, however, draw the line at helping me in the bathroom.” Blaine said. “And blowing my nose for me.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, muttering something about how he’s ‘Seen much more private things’  than Blaine with a runny nose, causing Blaine’s fingers to scribble around his lower ribs, finding his tickle spot.

“Okay!” Kurt gasped, squirming and shoving his hand away. “I’ll lay off a little bit…”

“Thank you.” Blaine smiled, snuggling back down into his blanket and pulling the laptop back over towards them. “Want to make a start on the Sound of Music?”

Kurt smiled and nodded. “Sure. Oh! You’re due to take more medicine, hold on,” He reached across Blaine and grabbed the packet of Tylenol, passing him two more film-coated pills with a glass of water. “Also, I’ve got this really great chicken soup recipe I’ve been working on, and now seems like the perfect opportunity to test it out. If we relocate to the living room, I can keep an eye on you whilst I make us lunch?”

Blaine grinned, shaking his head fondly, unreasonably smitten with his sweet, overprotective boyfriend. “That sounds great, Kurt.”

Kurt clapped his hands, hopping up and pressing a kiss to the tip of Blaine’s nose and picking up his tray, bouncing out to the kitchen with a blanket-clad Blaine trailing close behind him.

[icsurvivor]

At-home cold and flu treatments that your bladder won't hate (probably)

via Reddit:

Whether it’s the common cold, bronchitis, sinusitis or the flu, having IC can make managing congestion, coughing, runny noses and chills more complicated. Here are some ideas for handling the symptoms without making your bladder go into open revolt. (Usual disclaimers: not a doctor, this isn’t medical advice, if you’re sick see a doctor to make sure what you have is manageable on your own, all drugs have side effects so ask a doctor or pharmacist before trying something new.)

What do you do when you have a cold? Let us know in the comments!

THINGS TO AVOID

Decongestants with pseudoephedrine/phenylephrine: Pseudoephedrine is a stimulant and like all stimulant medications it can cause urgency/frequency even in otherwise healthy people. For ICers, that often translates to worse pain and voiding symptoms. Phenylephrine is also a stimulant, and it doesn’t work that well for congestion so that one is rarely worth the risk.

Cough drops or syrup with Vitamin C: Vitamin C makes urine more acidic and is one of the most common dietary flare triggers. It also doesn't do anything to prevent or treat the common cold so we're not missing out.

Medications with dyes: if you’re sensitive to color additives, watch out for pills with colored coatings. Lots of common medications are available without dyes, ask your pharmacist about how to get them.

Acidic syrups: some liquid cough and cold medicines are pretty acidic and can be bothersome even in small quantities.

ALTERNATIVES TO TRY

Netti pots/hot steamy showers: these methods get mucus moving and can help temporarily relieve pressure from head congestion.

Antihistamines: these often have a drying effect that is handy if you have a runny nose or post-nasal drip. Some cough and cold medications contain antihistamines, so if you use hydroxyzine/Benadryl/OTC daily allergy pills to manage your IC make sure to be attentive to ingredients so you don't overdose.

Herbal tea/hot water with honey: honey is a topical antiseptic and a lot of people find it soothing for sore or hoarse throats. If you can tolerate herbal tea that’s a comforting drink, but if you can’t honey water is still pretty tasty.

IC friendly juices: pear and blueberry juice are both safe for a lot of people and can be an easy way to get your blood sugar up if eating is uncomfortable. Cut them with 50% water to be extra-safe.

Salt water mouthwash: this is good for sore or hoarse throats, most people do it 2-3x/day while irritation lasts.

Honey throat lozenges: generally safer than fruit flavors.

Vicks VapoRub: this is a topical treatment for congestion which makes it bladder-sparing. Some people use peppermint oil instead but it can be irritating to skin so use with caution.

Humidifier: keeping the air moist can make you more comfortable if your nose or throat are irritated. Some people add things like eucalyptus to the humidifier or diffuser, which probably does nothing to help your cold but does smell nice. People with asthma should avoid additives since essential oils can be irritating to the respiratory tract.

NSAIDs: if you have aches, a sore throat or a fever and can tolerate things like Advil or Tylenol these can help you get temporary relief. Make sure you see a doctor if you have these symptoms to find out if you have the flu.

Drink plenty of water: being hydrated thins out mucus and helps your body keep it together while it fights off the invader. You don't need to go buck wild, just sip throughout the day.

Eat cold- and IC-friendly foods: chicken soup is pretty easy to adapt to the IC diet, as are a lot of comfort foods. Some pretty weak evidence suggests that garlic may help you fight colds, which is probably bullshit but many of us can tolerate it so why not eat some? Also that thing about avoiding dairy when you’re congested is a myth, so go for it if dairy is flare-calming for you.

Get extra rest: kinda sucks but the best thing for a cold or flu is rest and time. People with chronic pain often have lower energy at baseline so when we get sick it can really do a number on us. Getting as much rest as possible is really important. TIP: "rest" doesn’t have to mean "sleep", which can be impossible if you’re having IC symptoms plus a cold. Don't stress yourself out if you're not sleeping well! Rest can also mean taking a day off, laying down for a bit even if you don’t sleep, asking for help with daily chores to save energy (or just not doing them), or doing something relaxing like taking a bath or listening to music.

I CAN'T FUCKING TAKE IT I NEED ACTUAL MEDICINE

Do you, beau. Drinking extra water can help your bladder tolerate irritating ingredients, and popular flare relievers like Benadryl, AZO and baking soda can help you tolerate the side effects of stimulant drugs. Go to the doctor to see if there's any prescription drugs that might help you.

MY DOCTOR PRESCRIBED ANTIBIOTICS BUT WHAT IF IT'S VIRAL?

Taking a z-pack when you might have a viral infection is a tiny, minuscule, vanishingly small contribution to a problem (bacterial resistance) that is overwhelmingly driven by antibiotic use in the cattle industry and hospital procedures. Doing this once a year is not going to give you a multi-drug-resistant superbug. If you're concerned about the side effects of antibiotics on your GI or reproductive systems, discuss those risks with your doctor and they can advise you if antibiotic treatment is important or optional for your situation.

SHOULD I STAY HOME FROM WORK?

If your position in our late-stage capitalism hellscape allows you to do so, please stay home. Immunocompromised people everywhere will thank you (including ICers using cyclosporine!)

Good luck Northern hemisphere!

[fatesinthenight]

Dr. Iplier's Cold (part 4)

True to Doc's word the next week three of the egos got hit with a cold. Ed was slumped in his bed with a really bad fever. King of Squirrels was sneezing every second with so many tissue boxes in his room. Silver had a very bad sore throat and didn't even want to speak. You went to their rooms with Dr. Iplier with a mask ,just to be safe, and tended to them. The next day it was Yandere with the coughing and Host was getting the sniffles. After that Bim got a plugged up nose and Wilford also had a sore throat, Dark was pleased because it meant Will wouldn't be talking. As for Dark he didn't want to admit he was sick but sure enough his Darling ratted him out saying he had a fever and was trying to play it off. The Googles being droids did not get sick but in their own way they did as they all got viruses.

"I thought of all people you guys would be safe." You are in the Googles room as they are laying in their beds looking very tired.

"Well someone didn't listen to me and decided to click on that ad for new computers that was obviously a scam." Google looks at Red.

"What?" Red shrugs. "I really wanted a new computer."

"You don't need a computer you can access the internet yourself in your head." Green sighs.

"I know but sometimes takes out my battery too much so I rather have my own computer." Red adds.

"Still think its pointless." Green huffs.

"Whatever Green." Red crosses his arms.

"Guys be nice. Its not like this is the first time it happened." Oliver saids, always trying to keep the peace.

"Ok you guys I may not be so tech savvy but you all need to rest ok." You smile at them.

"Ok." The googles say together.

You leave their room and Dr. Iplier is standing out the door. "Ok I got the Googles to actually rest for a while. King has his VapoRub and I got the squirrels not to eat it and King too. Dark is in bed and I was scared for my life when I told him he had to listen to me weather he likes it of not. Also Wilford still cant talk right now but I finally got him to drink that cough syrup." You stand there very proud of yourself.  

"How did you get him to do that?" Dr. Iplier was curious.

"O I got one that was candy flavored." You pat yourself on the back.

"Why didn't I think of that?" Dr. Iplier sighs. "That would have made things so much more easier."

"Well I'm glad I could be of help. Do we need to look at anyone else now?" You ask.

"I looked at everyone else and they are still in the same condition but are slowly feeling better." Doc and you make your way back into the clinic. "By far this is the most efficient way this has been handled. I am very happy to have hired you."

You smile at his words. "Thank you Doctor. That means a lot."

"Of course. You have been performing very well." Doc goes into his office but as he opens the door he sways slightly. He shakes it off and goes to his desk hoping you didn't see.

"Dr. Iplier are you ok?" You noticed his swaying.

"I'm fine thank you. Just tired is all." Dr. Iplier opens a file and takes notes.

"Are you sure? Now that I am looking at you it seems like you are off." You take a step in the office.

"I assure you nothing is wrong with me." Doc sighs and looks at more files.

Just as he looks down he feels something touch his head. He looks up to see you with your hand on his forehead. He is taken back from this, someone other than himself taking his temperature.

"Doctor.. you have a fever." You looks concerned.

Doc looks away from you. "I told you I am fine. It is nothing for you to concern yourself with. Look your shift is over you should be going home."

"Doctor if you have a fever you need to rest now before-" You get cut off.

"Look you don't get to tell me what to do ok! You are the assistant not a doctor. You are just a nurse and you don't have the right certifications to tell me how to take care of myself. And even if you did I wouldn't listen because I am a doctor and I know who to treat myself!" Dr. Iplier is standing giving you a annoyed look.

You feel yourself shrink. You don't say anything and look at the floor. He snapped at you and he knows it hurt your feelings. You two ever getting alone well enough and well this put a dent in it. He knows what would come next, you would leave just like the others did when he snapped at them. You get your bag and hug it to your shoulder.

"You know you don't know how to accept help from others don't you?" You look at Doc. "I will get going then. Bye." You slowly walk out.

Dr. Iplier starts cursing himself out under his breath. He knew he blew it again with another nurse. His pride always get the best of him and this only proved that it wasn't going to change. He sighed thinking this was the longest someone lasted with him, a new record. Just as he thinks about it he moves around his desk and feels a wave of dizziness hit him. He tries to steady himself on his desk holding his head but slips and knocks over papers and a cup. It shatters on the floor and his head thuds hard.

His body instantly feels too warm and weak. He cant move and he just lays there on the floor. Doc knows no one is around to help him and he tries to move up but he is too weak and can't. his eyes feel heavy and he thinks to himself he is such a bad doctor letting himself get this ill without properly treating himself. Just as he is beginning to knock out her hears a faint voice. It is calling out his name and is panicking. He feels hands on him and like he is being lifted onto a lap. He sees a light shining in his eyes and feels someone taking off coat and headband. He tries to stay up but feels someone brushing his hair softly, soothing him and telling him he needs to rest. Then he knocks out completely.

You do your best to lift him and you take him to a bed in the clinic. You were able to get him onto it even if it did take some time. You look at him knocked out shaking your head. "Well you have no choice. I have to be your doctor now."

[warriorqueen1991]

Cure-all

Characters: Patrick Sullivan X Reader

Warnings: massive amounts of fluff

Notes: This is an emergency request post for @roguesandsaviors my girls been under the weather and she needed some Patrick love to help get her through, love ya hun ♡♡♡

This is my first time writing Patrick so be gentle lol just let me know if ya want on my forever tag list ;)

—————————————————————

Rolling over on the couch you clutched the soft white pillow in your arms as your body was wrecked with another painful coughing fit. Swallowing with difficulty you closed your eyes with a tight wince, this crap had come out of nowhere.

Actually that was a lie.

You really should’ve saw this coming, Patrick had been suffering from the same damn thing the week before.

Your big teddy bear had been so miserable you couldn’t help but take care of him, now you could really use his full body snuggle and soft humming in your ear he always did to calm down.

Blowing your sore nose you dropped the tissue in the trashcan you had moved next to the couch.

He had been gone since yesterday, two house fires and a routine inspection had dragged your husband from your arms and forced you to snuggle with his pillow on the sofa.

You knew how important his job was and how much he loved it, but sometimes you just wanted him to yourself.

Popping a couple cough drops in your mouth you rolled over to stare at the tv, your eyes fluttering before dropping closed.

Hopefully Patrick would be home soon, he was the only real medicine you needed.

****

It was late that night when Patrick finally managed to get away from the station, unlocking the door he pushed it open slowly. He knew you were probably waiting up for him but he didn’t want to wake you if you weren’t.

Toeing his boots off he set his keys on the table as quietly as possible, hanging his coat up he turned around stumbling over his boots so he rammed his hip into the nearby dresser.

“Shit” he winced kicking his boots out of the way as he pulled his beanie off ruffling his hair, limping slightly from his clumsiness.

Solid as a freight train and just as subtle.

Moving into the small living room he smiled softly, you were sleeping on the couch wrapped around his pillow in a burrito of covers. The coffee table was littered with vaporub, cough drops, hot tea and tissue boxes.

The trashcan placed at the head of the couch was full of used tissues nearly overflowing onto the carpet, he frowned as he knelt down next to the couch caressing your hair.

Your eyes slid open at his gentle touch, your arms sliding from within the covers to wrap around his neck with a whimper.

“Your home!”

He chuckled softly as you pulled him as close as you could to your warm body. “Yeah babe I’m home, I’m so sorry…” shaking your head you tugged him closer causing him to fall forward “alright baby hold on” He chuckled.

Moving your arms so he could remove his shirt he slid in behind you as gently as he could.

Wrapping his long arms around your chest he pulled you close, one of his legs hooking around yours as he pulled the extra blanket off the back of the couch.

Kissing your neck softly, he ran his hands over your stomach “I’m sorry I got you sick baby”. You smiled weakly “I’ll be alright” he hummed against your shoulder “you should’ve told me you were sick…I could’ve..”.

Pulling his large hand to your lips you kissed his warm flesh “babe you can’t just leave work cuz I’ve got a cold…we’re together almost everyday, it was inevitable I was going to get sick as soon as you did”.

Kissing the back of your head he closed his eyes with a tired sigh “I know…I just hate seeing you like this”.

“What, sexy?” you giggled before quickly covering your mouth as you erupted into yet another string of rough coughs.

Patrick chuckled snuggling into your neck as he rubbed your side “baby your always sexy…even when you’re more snot than woman”.

Gasping in mock shock you gently smacked his hip “hey”.

He purred mouthing your heated skin with a teasing smile. You let out a light laugh, he was already making you feel better.

Pulling his arm up between yours so you could snuggle around it you gazed at the flickering tv lazily as he hummed quietly next to your ear.

He smelled of burning embers and aftershave, the sweet relaxing smell wrapping you up in comfort.

“Do you need me to get you anything baby…medicine or…?”

You smiled rubbing your face against his hand with a happy sigh.

“You’re the only cure I need”

————————————————————-

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[axburrows]

“My Plague Journal”

By RICHARD LITTLETHOUGHT ‘The Voice of Truth, if by “Truth” you mean “Profoundly Right-Wing Assertions”.’

DAY IV

Readers, I do confess this self-isolation business is getting to me at the very roots! The other day, I was having a harmless browse of some of that P.G. Wodehouse – ‘fun for all the fam’, as the rappers would say. But several chapters in, my heart ached and a drowsy numbness pained my sense, as though of Benylin® I had drunk.

In my delirious state, I saw myself attired in a starched collar and claw-hammer coat to boot. My man-cave was gone. Looking around at this new opulent interior, I surmised that I’d entered into the employment of a top-drawer citizen: Mister Bertram Wooster! Distantly, I heard the tinkling of a bell. I pursued the sound up a long and winding staircase. I opened an oak panelled door and stepped into my master’s bedroom. He was lounging beneath candy-striped bedclothes, a little bell in his hand.  

‘You rang, sir?’ I said.

‘Now look here, Littlethought’, Wooster intoned, ‘My squeeze, Emily Maitlis, is coming round for supper later and I want to make a bit of an impression – if you catch my meaning?’

‘Indeed, sir.’ I said.

‘I’ve got a grocery list here for her favourite dish: Greek moussaka with a special side salad – Yukon potatoes, artichoke hearts and a caramelised fig – that sort of caper.’ He waved this scroll of decadence beneath my salt-of-the-earth nose. ‘Now be a sport and toddle down to Whole Foods, would you?’ 

‘Indeed, sir’, I intoned. I took the list and shimmered out.

Coming down Kensington High Street, the pavements billowed with a thousand coxcombs in primrose scarfs and crushable bushman’s hats. Through the window of a Wasabi, the Monopoly Man was licking ramen off a glass table top while a prostitute clapped. I turned and saw a parade processing up the road, at the centre of which was a massive Chinese dragon with the face of a polystyrene James O’Brien. Fire-eaters and acrobats pranced around it performing tricks, whilst Sandi Toksvig saluted the crowd from an amphibious rocket launcher. Jess Phillips played ‘I Will Survive’ on the ocarina. A marmoset was on Skype!!! I’m a stranger in my own country! I thought. 

Behind me, I heard a fragile voice singing from the doorway of an Alms House.

‘Jesus blood - never failed me yet - never failed m’yet - never failed me...’

‘Mister Farage!’ I said. ‘Whatever became of our Man of the Hour?’

‘I’ve been stripped of m’assets, boy. Stripped of m’assets.’

‘Wassat?’

‘M’Youtube videos have been de-monitised, I tells ye! All m’lovely Youtube videos!’ 

‘They’ll never get away with this, Nige! God’s honour, they won’t!’ 

‘Thruppence for a vodka jelly, will ye?’  

I was about to knee him in the groin and make a speech about the undeserving poor, when an affectless young man approached and forced a limp handshake. The young man then turned and gestured to a bunch of phlegmatic-faced tweens in furs doing coke off a padlock key.

‘Hey, guys, come on over!’ he said. ‘It’s a load of pre-gentrification First Peoples!’ 

They introduced themselves as characters who’d escaped from an Andrew Doyle satire. They were now surviving hand-to-mouth as a band of marauding postmodernists. They tried to impress me by showing me colourful objects from their ‘superior culture’, including Nespresso pods, scalp wax and a pencil sharpener from the Barbican Centre. A young woman in turquoise brogues read a poem about having adulterous sex in a library. When I told her I thought poetry was a form of character weakness, she cried onto her shoes (AND HER LACES TO BOOT!!hooho!). One tired-looking bloke – who claimed that sleep patterns were ‘just a construct’ and favoured instead a politicised version of rest known as ‘free-sleep’ – asked if I’d considered taking ‘powerful antidepressants’ to cure my conservatism. I told him that I was in love with my own sadness. I said I wanted to live my life ‘like a powder keg: short but sweet’ – I winked at the shoe-lady. The bloke explained that he wanted to live his life like an otter: ‘a very long and chilled one’, on his own, lying on a beanbag, eating stems of barley, with infrequent but carefully scheduled sessions of masturbation. I looked him squarely in the eyes and asked if he’d ever had a wet shave. The woman interjected and said I should join a Union, as ‘a working-class person!’ 

‘Who’re you calling working-class?!’ says I. ‘I’m a small business owner, don’t y’know!’

………………

I was referring to a small business I tried to establish in the late 90s, selling knock-off Toby jugs from the boot of my Mazda, just off the A13 trunk road. We got busted by a gang of hired bravoes sent by the Wedgwood company. I was left lying on the verge with a pair of broken legs surrounded by shards of homemade ceramics. The police managed to trace the bravoes as far as Stoke-on-Trent where the trail ran cold, thanks to a conspiracy of silence among the city’s terrified residents. I had a meltdown not long after that. In my despair, I overdosed on Vick’s VapoRub and tried walking into the sea one night down in Billericay. I was saved, after I mistook the inchoate outline of a miniature schnauzer for the spiritual form of a Toby Jug. It hovered above the sand, glowing. 

Don’t give up, Dick. Don’t give up the ju-ugs! 

But I can’t, Tobias, mate. The porcelain industry is eating me alive! 

No one else can potter like you, Dick! That’s the truth.

But the jugs have become a burden, mate!  

It is your destiny, Dick. The jugs are your destiny! Swear. Swear. 

What are you? Angel or Devil?

I AM IN HELL!!!!

………………….

Once I had absquatulated from the students, I entered the vast baize complex of Whole Foods. I’d never seen so many vegetables in my life [INSERT GIBE ABOUT THE SCOTTISH]. The building was at least 100 storeys high, buzzing with flying cars and hydraulic escalators. It was like the Tower of Babel itself! Fritz Lang’s Metropolis crossed with a farmer’s market.  

The affluence of the place sickened me to my very claw! I walked past some Houynhnhnms, cantering along the ‘Oats’ aisle. They gave me sideways glances and whispered to one another. 

‘Darling, is that a Leaver?’

‘Darling, do you know, I think it might well be!’ 

‘In Whole Foods? I say, do you think he’s here to get his methadone injection? Someone should tell him, it’s not that kind of supermarket.’ *Goya-esque braying*

I’m a creep, I thought. I’m a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here? I don’t belong here.

Near an aisle of artichokes, my bum was perused by the ghost of W.H. Auden. 

‘Sir! If I may say’, he whispered, ‘Your arse is so muscular, I should wish to immortalise it in verse!’ I bristled at the scent of cherry brandy on his lips.

‘I concur, Wystan!’ crooned the fay shade of Lytton Strachey. ‘A truly delectable specimen.’

I swung at them. ‘Naff orf, you bloody wagtails!’

‘Oh, I say!’ preened Wystan Hugh.  

At which point the ghost of Jean Cocteau approached, his eyes gleaming like a deviant, his fingers wriggling, ‘Ohohoho! Il a un cul chaud!’ 

‘Now look ere, Frenchy! One step over this ere threshold and I’ll knock yer flippin block off, comprehend-e?’

‘Je recommanderais le chou-fleur.’

‘Watch it! I’m warning you!’

‘Oh, Jean. You old nag!’

‘Oui. Je suis un cinéaste.’

‘I can’t make head nor tail of this! I bluddy hate these romance languages’ I said to myself, sotto voce. I felt a stranger in my native land.

Once I had absquatulated the scene, I returned to the penthouse to prepare supper while Wooster billed and cooed with Ms Maitlis. (It was like the courting ritual of kestrels!!) Around midnight, I brought in the third course of banana shallots. The room was billowing with the scent of orange blossom and legal highs; I nearly fainted. Maitlis wore large, exotic torques from the Barbican Centre gift shop. She was hunkered over a big, indulgent glug of “Chateau de Liz Kendall”. Her eyes were as brown as spear handles!! Her face was firm yet glam, like the prow of a Russian oil tanker steered by Bianca Jagger. Her throaty voice, with its alluring masculine depths, was both thick and sweet, like oil on a scone (in an M&S advert sponsored by Shell). 

‘Your butler’, she intoned. ‘A bit wet behind the ears, don’t you think?’

‘Oh gawd,’ my master said, his saliva moonlit, ‘don’t I know it, Ms Emma! Hum-hum-hum-hum.’

Now easy, Dick, says I to mine-self. Easy does it now. 

Her voice sank deeper: ‘If you want to move in with me, Wooster, we’re going to have to find you a new man!’

‘If you like, I could fire this bounder on the spot! Just for you. I would do that, Emily. For you I would! If you’d like!’ 

She grinned and they stared into each other’s eyes for a good minute. Then she glanced up at me, a touch dismayed. Wooster turned around - he had a scheming look. 

‘Oh, fetch us dessert, would you, Littlethought?’

I shimmered out. I returned a few moments later with an inappropriately large jelly designed by Norman Foster. 

‘Ta, Littlethought.’

‘Sir.’

‘Oh, and Littlethought?’

‘Sir?’

‘You’re dismissed.’

‘Sir?!’

‘Dismissed. Arrivederci, Littlethought. We’re replacing you. Don’t come back tomorrow. You can leave your key card on the salver.’

I TOOK OUT A BOMB. I SCREAMED LIKE A CELT!

‘I say, steady on there, Littlethought!’

‘YIPPEE-KI-YAY, MOTHERFUCKERS!’ I intoned.

‘I didn’t know you spoke French, Littlethought!’

I pulled the cord! ‘FOR ENGLAND!’

Unfortunately, I was the only casualty. I wish I had died to avoid legal culpability. But it was a British explosive, so I incurred only minor tissue scarring. My master and Ms Maitlis immediately pressed charges. Because of my two-year-long media campaign against legal aid, I could only afford to be represented by a sparrow. The sparrow had yet to graduate to the bar, having only recently built his nest outside the chambers at Gray’s Inn where I hoped he’d at least absorbed something of the finer points of tort law. I appeared in court the following week in a plaster cast, where I was sentenced to life by Justice Lady Hale. 

‘Well, well, well, Mithta Littlethought’, lisped Lady Hale. ‘A Leaver in the dock, I thee! It mutht be my lucky day! Yum yum yum!’ (She rubbed her stomach and mimed eating me - which I thought excessive.) A roll call of witnesses for the prosecution sealed my fate: Kojack, David Blunkett, and Charlotte Church in a bonnet who jumped up on the plaintiff’s bench and called me ‘a witch’ and then fainted. Lady Hale said I was ‘weak and scum’ - or ‘thcum’, to be precise (which is Welsh for ‘seamen’, FYI). 

‘I thenenth you to 55 yearth, Mr Littlethought!’ she crooned. ‘55 backbwaking yearth!’ 

She banged her gavel. A loud cheer broke out across the gallery. I looked at my sparrow in his tiny little fucking wig, cursing him with my very blood. 

‘May God have merthy upon your thoul, Mithta Littlethought!’ Hale said. 

The sparrow immediately took wing – with my car keys in its beak – and escaped from a clearstory window. I’d lost everything. As I was bundled out of the courtroom, my faithful but still vividly puce-legged wife, Vanessa, surreptitiously passed me a cyanide capsule and an After Eight mint. She kissed me. 

‘I’ll never forget you, Monsieur Robespierre,’ she said. ‘I’ll never forget you – you – you – YOU…’

I woke up. My body was covered in sweat. It had all been a dream. I sighed with relief. I drew back the coverlet. But then, in the palm of my right hand: was a melted After Eight! Had it really been a dream? Yes. I had fallen asleep on top of a box of After Eights. I showered the mint chocolate off my cords and wept.

 -----------   b l  a  c  k  o  u   t  ------------

Grams:           ‘Underneath the   Arches’  (Flanagan/ Allen - ft. Dua Lipa)

CODA:

[rococodeco]

I woke up with a scratchy throat this morning. Now I’m thinking through all the things I do and used to do to stay healthy in the winter so I can start it all up again and hopefully stave off the cold that’s coming on.

Every day:

SLEEP - get enough sleep, at least 8 hours every night, I cannot stress how important sleep is.

Hydration - drink plenty of water every day.

Wash my hands regularly - I used to wash my hands first thing when I got home. I fell out of that habit. Time to start it up again. And start washing them when I get to the office too.

Hand sanitizer when washing isn’t possible - I use it every time I pump gas and I’m convinced that makes a huge difference.

Humidifier - I run one in my bedroom at night all winter and one at my desk all year since the HVAC makes it so dry in the office.

Yoga - I used to get sick monthly, then I found yoga and didn’t get sick for years. Time to get back to a more regular and gentler yoga practice. I think a short pre-bed routine will be something I can stick to.

When I feel something coming on:

Sleep - really, go to bed.

Green tea - I drink this every day already, but if I have sniffles or a scratchy throat I make it a point to drink even more.

Ginger tea - spicy tea with honey really soothes my throat and sinuses and works to stop coughs. I make a ginger syrup by grating a root, steeping it in hot water for 10-15 minutes, straining out the ginger, then boiling it with honey until it’s syrup. I put a couple spoonfuls in a mug with hot water to make tea or I’ll just take it by the spoonful as a cough syrup.

Bundle up - dress for the weather, hat, gloves, coat, stay warm in the office (I’ve been spraying the temperature monitors with hand sanitizer when it gets too cold.

Neti pot - my doctor once recommended saline nasal spray so I went full neti pot, I figure it’s the same thing, just you can use it multiple times. I have definitely flushed out the beginning of a cold before.

Gargle salt water - it is the cure for everything.

Zinc - I get these little zinc and elderberry or zinc and echinacea tablets and they really do seem to stop a cold in its tracks.

Cut out dairy and sugar - these make me feel worse and more congested.

When sick:

Sleep - as much as I can. I’m not much of a napper and never have been, so if I fall asleep during the day, I know I really really need it.

Kleenex with lotion - the lotion really does minimize the chapping from all the nose blowing. When even that doesn’t help, I put chapstick on my nose to protect it.

Delsym Cough Syrup - I’m not a total hippie, I use medicine too, when it works and doesn’t make me feel worse (looking at you sudafed). This is the best working cough suppressant I’ve tried after hot lemon water.

Mucinex - honestly, I don’t feel a difference, but my doc insists I use it when sick.

Lucerin cough drops - not actual medicine but the cherry flavor cheers me up.

Ricola cough drops - very good for a sore throat.

Umcka - I started taking this after I read a study that shows it does help heal bronchitis and I have a tendency to get bronchitis. But the way it’s sold, it’s almost impossible to get the same dose the study used and I don’t know if it’s ever really helped. 

Traditional Medicinals teas - I have had so much Breathe Easy over the years, I can’t really stand it anymore. But Throat Coat and Cold Care are still teas I turn to to get through a cold.

Hot water with lemon (and sometimes honey (and sometimes whiskey)) - lemon water works better than any cough syrup when I have bronchitis, the honey is soothing and the whiskey makes it all seem not terrible.

Chicken soup - the OG cold treatment, I like to add matzo balls, dumplings or rice in lieu of noodles to my favorite recipe.

Green chile (Colorado style, pork stewed with green chilies and tomatoes) - my ultimate comfort food, plus the chilies and tomatoes are loaded with vitamin C.

Vicks Vaporub, or the Badger balm alternative I find at the natural grocery store - opens up those sinuses so I can breathe.

Get outside to take a walk - I usually just want to stay bundled up, but the movement + fresh air + sunshine do a world of good.

New stuff I’m trying:

Fermented honey garlic- I made it last year then got too scared to eat it so I threw it in the compost for the ants and squirrels to stay healthy. I made it again this year and it’s weird, but I’m willing to give it a try.

Fire cider - My first batch is ready to strain and try today. It’s a bunch of spicy foods (horseradish, ginger, onion, jalapeno) infused in apple cider vinegar. It supposedly supports the immune system.

Elderberry syrup - tried some last night when I started coughing. It’s supposed to be incredible. We’ll see what it does for me.

Mullein - I just read that this herb is an expectorant, like Mucinex. If I can find a tea, I’ll give it a try.

[meangirlsx]

This is probably more than you wanted so I apologize in advance but I also deal with tech week illness invasions so I started a whole document of tips for me and my friends. Some of them are more performer-based, but it sounds like you’re a performer so that’s not a problem. Some tips are taken directly from Broadway performers, so I’ll put a * next to those so you know.

This will be in specific categories, too, but basically, when in doubt, drink more water. More water is always a good idea. Just remember to pee regularly.

Prevent spreading germs:

Wash your hands more often than you think you might need to

Try to get in the habit of washing your hands or using hand sanitizer after touching something communal and before touching your face, food, or a drink

Avoid directly sharing food and drinks with anyone if you can help it

Try to keep your diet balanced (believe me, I know it’s not easy)

Try to consistently get a healthy amount of sleep (believe me, I know that’s not easy, either)

If you’re really concerned about germs, I’ve read about people putting Vaseline, Ponds, or Neosporin up just a little into their noses to try to stop the germs from getting in

One of those doctor/surgical masks will have the same affect

When you think you’re starting to get sick or are worried about your vocal health:

Grether’s pastilles* (herbal cough drops)

Olba’s pastilles*

Silicea*

Throat Coat*

Coldeez

Emergen-C

Anything with Vitamin C

Zinc pills

Mucinex

Tea

Rest up!

Vocal health:

Lots of water*

Staying as quiet/silent as you can really does help your voice to rest*

A full, good night’s sleep does wonders for the voice*

Steaming/nebulizing is also a popular way to help maintain vocal health*

Manuka honey*

Peppermint oil*

Grether’s pastilles*

Taking a supplement for or something with calcium magnesium because there’s a good chance you might not eat much dairy or drink much milk, for dietary reasons or for vocal reasons or something else*

Throat Coat*

Dealing with a cold:

Again. Lots of water

Tea or hot water with honey, and lemon if you want it

Again! Please pee regularly!

Toast and crackers help soak up mucus you swallow

Blow your nose so you swallow as little mucus as possible, don’t just sniffle and wipe your nose (swallowing too much mucus can give you a stomach ache or make you feel sick to your stomach)

(If you do ever feel sick to your stomach, peppermint and ginger ale are two things that are supposed to help settle stomachs)

Orange juice. Seriously just fucking slam some OJ

Allergy medications typically have the same affects as cold medicine, so if you have access to allergy meds and not cold meds, hit your limit of a cold med (but check for ingredients and possible drug interactions so you’re not putting more of the same ingredient into your body or hurting yourself with a reaction to two drugs that weren’t supposed to mix), or would just prefer to not skip your allergy meds and want to know if they’ll work for a cold, you can totally take allergy meds in place of cold medicine

DayQuil and Tylenol Cold are helpful cold meds if you do want to take cold meds

If you have a steamer or humidifier, you can use it to steam out your respiratory system

A hot shower also works just as well for that

I personally haven’t used it but apparently Vick’s VapoRub is a miracle

If your nose hurts from all the blowing and wiping, those tissues with the lotion in them can be really soothing and put some moisture back into your poor little dried out nose

Vaseline or Ponds also hydrates the area well

Watching TV shows or movies or reading a book won’t technically have an affect on your health, but they distract you from focusing on how you feel, they help you rest which is so important, and they’re good for the soul, especially if you watch or read something you loved as a kid

I have yet to meet a cold that isn’t at least emotionally improved by a bowl of chicken noodle soup

I hope this helps even a little! Sending you all healthy thoughts!

Does anyone have any tips for tech weeks and performance (health)

I seem to get sick during tech week and last time I was in a play I had post nasal drip and it made the voice rough and scratchy and I was I was mic'd and had lines and god was it bad please help so my friends and I can avoid this type of thing in the future

Also stealing was a big thing

[wineanddinosaur]

Get a Sneak Peek Inside a Legendary Amaro Distillery

“This is the magic behind Amaro Montenegro — starting from something disgusting and getting something beautiful,” Matteo Bonoli says, gazing at a beaker of dark, viscous liquid in his hand. The aroma is complex, syrupy, and redolent of molasses. But this is a trick of the senses: Even the tiniest of sips floods the mouth with an unrelenting, nose-wrinkling bitterness that lingers and lingers. This is wormwood, and to the untrained palate, it is truly disgusting.

Labeled fittingly as the “Bitter & Herbaceous” essence, this is one of the six mother extracts that are blended together to make Amaro Montenegro, an Italian bitter liqueur. I am with Bonoli, the master herbalist for the brand, at the Gruppo Montenegro facility outside Teramo, Italy, where these essences are produced. Here, 35 botanicals are boiled, macerated, and distilled into base notes with distinct flavor profiles — Bitter & Herbaceous, Fresh & Balsamic, Sweet & Roasted, Warm & Tropical, Spicy & Floral, and Fruity & Vegetal.

Like many Italian amari, Amaro Montenegro has used the same recipe since it was first developed in 1885. And like many Italian amari as well as other legacy liqueurs from around the world, this recipe is a closely guarded secret — so closely guarded that I am only the third journalist allowed a pungent peek behind the curtain at the Teramo production plant.

The Guards of Montenegro

As master herbalist, Bonoli, who has been with the company for nearly 10 years, is the steward of the recipes for Amaro Montenegro and the company’s other spirits, including Select Aperitivo and Coca Buton, a Slimer-green liqueur made from coca leaves. Dressed in moto jeans and a leather jacket, curly hair pulled back in a ponytail, Bonoli could conceivably be played by Antonio Banderas were there a market for films based on the lives of food scientist PhDs. Today, he is my tour guide — primarily because he has to be. This building is normally off limits, and the list of employees authorized to access the plant (and who are fluent in English) is short.

At the Amaro Montenegro facility, 35 botanicals are boiled, macerated, and distilled into base notes and essences.

The facility is a nondescript building that looks like it’s been plucked from an office park in Cupertino, Calif., and dropped into the rolling hills of Abruzzi. As we open the door, we’re immediately hit by an herbaceous, spicy aroma. Marcello Chiarini, the plant coordinator, greets us and escorts us into the locker room, where we remove our jewelry, don disposable lab coats and hairnets, and trade our sneakers for sensible factory shoes with strong Weekend Dad vibes.

Exactly six men work at Amaro Montenegro’s Teramo location, and the rookie among them has been there for 18 years. Doors with keypads are everywhere, and Chiarini explains that the mens’ jobs are highly compartmentalized; he is the only person allowed access to all areas. He pulls out his phone, showing live security camera footage from a locked room. It is empty except for three large sacks — coca leaves. He’s like a proud parent sharing images from his baby monitor, except instead of an infant it’s a Schedule II narcotic.

Cloak-and-Dagger Distillation

As we cross the factory floor, the smells intensify, layering and wafting seductively from around corners. Bonoli shepherds us into a refrigerated storage room, where deep shelves stretch to the ceiling. On the shelves are hundreds of identical white sacks, piled in four-foot-high stacks. Each stack has a cryptic piece of paper taped to it: “ERBA AROMATICA” followed by a five-digit code. All other identifying information has been removed.

Bonoli explains that these herbs, the raw materials of Amaro Montenegro, are subject to agricultural cycles and supply chain whims. When the 2004 tsunami hit Sri Lanka, Gruppo Montenegro was unable to source the cinnamon that the recipe requires. As a precaution, they now stock a two-and-a-half-year supply of every ingredient.

As we step out of the cold storage room, I catch a whiff of warm spice. “Cloves?” I guess. Bonoli shrugs theatrically. We head toward the maceration tanks and stills, moving in and out of ribbons of scents. We walk by a jumpsuit-clad worker opening a sack and are thrown headfirst into an aromatic cloud of juniper bush. We pass an open doorway and are suddenly steeping in a pot of chamomile tea. (It’s a red herring: Bonoli is careful to note that the facility also processes botanicals for Gruppo Montenegro’s other spirits and line of teas.)

At the facility, botanicals are processed for Gruppo Montenegro’s spirits and line of teas.

Artemisia, a genus of herbaceous plants with many culinary and medicinal uses, is being prepared for boiling. Bonoli steers me toward four open sacks of various varieties — small absinthe, valais wormwood, Roman wormwood, and genepy. He scoops up a handful from one, encouraging me to do the same. I bring my nose to my palm. The smell is bitter, dusty, medicinal, and very green.

Approaching the tour’s conclusion, we round a corner and are greeted by the bracing aroma of Vicks Vaporub; the Fresh & Balsamic essence is coming off the still. Bonoli extracts us a sample. At 80 percent alcohol, it’s only suitable for lip wetting, but I detect flavors of bay leaf and nutmeg, like Thanksgiving on a crisp morning. He cuts it with water, and it turns cloudy like pastis, indicating that it’s rich in essential oils.

The Teramo plant is responsible for producing all the essences that comprise Amaro Montenegro except for one, il premio. Bonoli speaks of it in hushed, reverent tones. Each bottle contains only one drop of the premio, which is produced at the company headquarters in Bologna, but without it, it wouldn’t be Montenegro. Its five ingredients are, naturally, top secret, but as I smell a dab applied to my wrist with an eye-dropper, I suspect they simply melt down Creamsicles.

Why All the Secrecy?

Of course, Amaro Montenegro isn’t the only amaro or bitter liqueur to keep its recipe behind closed doors. Amaro Ramazzotti has been made with the same “secret” blend of 33 herbs and roots since its creation in Milan in 1815. Fernet-Branca, produced in Milan since 1845, shares only a handful of its 27 components with the public, and those five ingredients are prepared by the company’s CEO in a locked room. Campari’s recipe, rumored to contain up to 80 ingredients, is such a closely guarded secret that only three individuals know it, and their identities are protected, too.

Even Germany’s hard-partying Jägermeister is tight-lipped about the 56 botanicals, fruits, and herbs in its formula.

Amaro Montenegro classifies its herbs to create a selection of “essences.”

Asked about the reasons behind Amaro Montenegro’s extreme stealth — which seems especially unnecessary in this facility, which is closed to the public and where the six employees are all lifers — Bonoli sighs. “I don’t know,” he says. He tells a story of the night before in Rome, where he went for a drink at The Court, a cocktail bar across from the Colosseum:

“When the bartender found out where I worked, he told me that he didn’t believe we actually started from botanicals. He accused us of using powders and flavorings,” Bonoli says. “This is what we’re up against, but it is a problem of our own making. We are so secretive about how Amaro Montenegro is made that people start believing we have something to hide.”

“In Italy,” he continues, “we have a saying—‘San Tommaso che non ci crede se non ci mette il naso.’ It means, ‘Saint Thomas doesn’t believe something unless he can put his nose right into it.’”

The expression refers to Saint Thomas, one of the Twelve Apostles of Jesus, who is commonly known as “Doubting Thomas” for not believing in the resurrection until he saw Jesus’s wounds. Had that Roman bartender been able to visit Montenegro’s processing plant, to wander the thickly scented rooms and put his nose right into the sacks of aromatic herbs, he’d likely be a believer.

Still, it’s Amaro Montenegro; with it and any other liquid legend, it’s almost as if the secret ingredient is secrecy itself.

The article Get a Sneak Peek Inside a Legendary Amaro Distillery appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/amaro-montenegro-distillery-tour/

[johnboothus]

Get a Sneak Peek Inside a Legendary Amaro Distillery

“This is the magic behind Amaro Montenegro — starting from something disgusting and getting something beautiful,” Matteo Bonoli says, gazing at a beaker of dark, viscous liquid in his hand. The aroma is complex, syrupy, and redolent of molasses. But this is a trick of the senses: Even the tiniest of sips floods the mouth with an unrelenting, nose-wrinkling bitterness that lingers and lingers. This is wormwood, and to the untrained palate, it is truly disgusting.

Labeled fittingly as the “Bitter & Herbaceous” essence, this is one of the six mother extracts that are blended together to make Amaro Montenegro, an Italian bitter liqueur. I am with Bonoli, the master herbalist for the brand, at the Gruppo Montenegro facility outside Teramo, Italy, where these essences are produced. Here, 35 botanicals are boiled, macerated, and distilled into base notes with distinct flavor profiles — Bitter & Herbaceous, Fresh & Balsamic, Sweet & Roasted, Warm & Tropical, Spicy & Floral, and Fruity & Vegetal.

Like many Italian amari, Amaro Montenegro has used the same recipe since it was first developed in 1885. And like many Italian amari as well as other legacy liqueurs from around the world, this recipe is a closely guarded secret — so closely guarded that I am only the third journalist allowed a pungent peek behind the curtain at the Teramo production plant.

The Guards of Montenegro

As master herbalist, Bonoli, who has been with the company for nearly 10 years, is the steward of the recipes for Amaro Montenegro and the company’s other spirits, including Select Aperitivo and Coca Buton, a Slimer-green liqueur made from coca leaves. Dressed in moto jeans and a leather jacket, curly hair pulled back in a ponytail, Bonoli could conceivably be played by Antonio Banderas were there a market for films based on the lives of food scientist PhDs. Today, he is my tour guide — primarily because he has to be. This building is normally off limits, and the list of employees authorized to access the plant (and who are fluent in English) is short.

At the Amaro Montenegro facility, 35 botanicals are boiled, macerated, and distilled into base notes and essences.

The facility is a nondescript building that looks like it’s been plucked from an office park in Cupertino, Calif., and dropped into the rolling hills of Abruzzi. As we open the door, we’re immediately hit by an herbaceous, spicy aroma. Marcello Chiarini, the plant coordinator, greets us and escorts us into the locker room, where we remove our jewelry, don disposable lab coats and hairnets, and trade our sneakers for sensible factory shoes with strong Weekend Dad vibes.

Exactly six men work at Amaro Montenegro’s Teramo location, and the rookie among them has been there for 18 years. Doors with keypads are everywhere, and Chiarini explains that the mens’ jobs are highly compartmentalized; he is the only person allowed access to all areas. He pulls out his phone, showing live security camera footage from a locked room. It is empty except for three large sacks — coca leaves. He’s like a proud parent sharing images from his baby monitor, except instead of an infant it’s a Schedule II narcotic.

Cloak-and-Dagger Distillation

As we cross the factory floor, the smells intensify, layering and wafting seductively from around corners. Bonoli shepherds us into a refrigerated storage room, where deep shelves stretch to the ceiling. On the shelves are hundreds of identical white sacks, piled in four-foot-high stacks. Each stack has a cryptic piece of paper taped to it: “ERBA AROMATICA” followed by a five-digit code. All other identifying information has been removed.

Bonoli explains that these herbs, the raw materials of Amaro Montenegro, are subject to agricultural cycles and supply chain whims. When the 2004 tsunami hit Sri Lanka, Gruppo Montenegro was unable to source the cinnamon that the recipe requires. As a precaution, they now stock a two-and-a-half-year supply of every ingredient.

As we step out of the cold storage room, I catch a whiff of warm spice. “Cloves?” I guess. Bonoli shrugs theatrically. We head toward the maceration tanks and stills, moving in and out of ribbons of scents. We walk by a jumpsuit-clad worker opening a sack and are thrown headfirst into an aromatic cloud of juniper bush. We pass an open doorway and are suddenly steeping in a pot of chamomile tea. (It’s a red herring: Bonoli is careful to note that the facility also processes botanicals for Gruppo Montenegro’s other spirits and line of teas.)

At the facility, botanicals are processed for Gruppo Montenegro’s spirits and line of teas.

Artemisia, a genus of herbaceous plants with many culinary and medicinal uses, is being prepared for boiling. Bonoli steers me toward four open sacks of various varieties — small absinthe, valais wormwood, Roman wormwood, and genepy. He scoops up a handful from one, encouraging me to do the same. I bring my nose to my palm. The smell is bitter, dusty, medicinal, and very green.

Approaching the tour’s conclusion, we round a corner and are greeted by the bracing aroma of Vicks Vaporub; the Fresh & Balsamic essence is coming off the still. Bonoli extracts us a sample. At 80 percent alcohol, it’s only suitable for lip wetting, but I detect flavors of bay leaf and nutmeg, like Thanksgiving on a crisp morning. He cuts it with water, and it turns cloudy like pastis, indicating that it’s rich in essential oils.

The Teramo plant is responsible for producing all the essences that comprise Amaro Montenegro except for one, il premio. Bonoli speaks of it in hushed, reverent tones. Each bottle contains only one drop of the premio, which is produced at the company headquarters in Bologna, but without it, it wouldn’t be Montenegro. Its five ingredients are, naturally, top secret, but as I smell a dab applied to my wrist with an eye-dropper, I suspect they simply melt down Creamsicles.

Why All the Secrecy?

Of course, Amaro Montenegro isn’t the only amaro or bitter liqueur to keep its recipe behind closed doors. Amaro Ramazzotti has been made with the same “secret” blend of 33 herbs and roots since its creation in Milan in 1815. Fernet-Branca, produced in Milan since 1845, shares only a handful of its 27 components with the public, and those five ingredients are prepared by the company’s CEO in a locked room. Campari’s recipe, rumored to contain up to 80 ingredients, is such a closely guarded secret that only three individuals know it, and their identities are protected, too.

Even Germany’s hard-partying Jägermeister is tight-lipped about the 56 botanicals, fruits, and herbs in its formula.

Amaro Montenegro classifies its herbs to create a selection of “essences.”

Asked about the reasons behind Amaro Montenegro’s extreme stealth — which seems especially unnecessary in this facility, which is closed to the public and where the six employees are all lifers — Bonoli sighs. “I don’t know,” he says. He tells a story of the night before in Rome, where he went for a drink at The Court, a cocktail bar across from the Colosseum:

“When the bartender found out where I worked, he told me that he didn’t believe we actually started from botanicals. He accused us of using powders and flavorings,” Bonoli says. “This is what we’re up against, but it is a problem of our own making. We are so secretive about how Amaro Montenegro is made that people start believing we have something to hide.”

“In Italy,” he continues, “we have a saying—‘San Tommaso che non ci crede se non ci mette il naso.’ It means, ‘Saint Thomas doesn’t believe something unless he can put his nose right into it.’”

The expression refers to Saint Thomas, one of the Twelve Apostles of Jesus, who is commonly known as “Doubting Thomas” for not believing in the resurrection until he saw Jesus’s wounds. Had that Roman bartender been able to visit Montenegro’s processing plant, to wander the thickly scented rooms and put his nose right into the sacks of aromatic herbs, he’d likely be a believer.

Still, it’s Amaro Montenegro; with it and any other liquid legend, it’s almost as if the secret ingredient is secrecy itself.

The article Get a Sneak Peek Inside a Legendary Amaro Distillery appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/amaro-montenegro-distillery-tour/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/get-a-sneak-peek-inside-a-legendary-amaro-distillery

[isaiahrippinus]

Get a Sneak Peek Inside a Legendary Amaro Distillery

“This is the magic behind Amaro Montenegro — starting from something disgusting and getting something beautiful,” Matteo Bonoli says, gazing at a beaker of dark, viscous liquid in his hand. The aroma is complex, syrupy, and redolent of molasses. But this is a trick of the senses: Even the tiniest of sips floods the mouth with an unrelenting, nose-wrinkling bitterness that lingers and lingers. This is wormwood, and to the untrained palate, it is truly disgusting.

Labeled fittingly as the “Bitter & Herbaceous” essence, this is one of the six mother extracts that are blended together to make Amaro Montenegro, an Italian bitter liqueur. I am with Bonoli, the master herbalist for the brand, at the Gruppo Montenegro facility outside Teramo, Italy, where these essences are produced. Here, 35 botanicals are boiled, macerated, and distilled into base notes with distinct flavor profiles — Bitter & Herbaceous, Fresh & Balsamic, Sweet & Roasted, Warm & Tropical, Spicy & Floral, and Fruity & Vegetal.

Like many Italian amari, Amaro Montenegro has used the same recipe since it was first developed in 1885. And like many Italian amari as well as other legacy liqueurs from around the world, this recipe is a closely guarded secret — so closely guarded that I am only the third journalist allowed a pungent peek behind the curtain at the Teramo production plant.

The Guards of Montenegro

As master herbalist, Bonoli, who has been with the company for nearly 10 years, is the steward of the recipes for Amaro Montenegro and the company’s other spirits, including Select Aperitivo and Coca Buton, a Slimer-green liqueur made from coca leaves. Dressed in moto jeans and a leather jacket, curly hair pulled back in a ponytail, Bonoli could conceivably be played by Antonio Banderas were there a market for films based on the lives of food scientist PhDs. Today, he is my tour guide — primarily because he has to be. This building is normally off limits, and the list of employees authorized to access the plant (and who are fluent in English) is short.

At the Amaro Montenegro facility, 35 botanicals are boiled, macerated, and distilled into base notes and essences.

The facility is a nondescript building that looks like it’s been plucked from an office park in Cupertino, Calif., and dropped into the rolling hills of Abruzzi. As we open the door, we’re immediately hit by an herbaceous, spicy aroma. Marcello Chiarini, the plant coordinator, greets us and escorts us into the locker room, where we remove our jewelry, don disposable lab coats and hairnets, and trade our sneakers for sensible factory shoes with strong Weekend Dad vibes.

Exactly six men work at Amaro Montenegro’s Teramo location, and the rookie among them has been there for 18 years. Doors with keypads are everywhere, and Chiarini explains that the mens’ jobs are highly compartmentalized; he is the only person allowed access to all areas. He pulls out his phone, showing live security camera footage from a locked room. It is empty except for three large sacks — coca leaves. He’s like a proud parent sharing images from his baby monitor, except instead of an infant it’s a Schedule II narcotic.

Cloak-and-Dagger Distillation

As we cross the factory floor, the smells intensify, layering and wafting seductively from around corners. Bonoli shepherds us into a refrigerated storage room, where deep shelves stretch to the ceiling. On the shelves are hundreds of identical white sacks, piled in four-foot-high stacks. Each stack has a cryptic piece of paper taped to it: “ERBA AROMATICA” followed by a five-digit code. All other identifying information has been removed.

Bonoli explains that these herbs, the raw materials of Amaro Montenegro, are subject to agricultural cycles and supply chain whims. When the 2004 tsunami hit Sri Lanka, Gruppo Montenegro was unable to source the cinnamon that the recipe requires. As a precaution, they now stock a two-and-a-half-year supply of every ingredient.

As we step out of the cold storage room, I catch a whiff of warm spice. “Cloves?” I guess. Bonoli shrugs theatrically. We head toward the maceration tanks and stills, moving in and out of ribbons of scents. We walk by a jumpsuit-clad worker opening a sack and are thrown headfirst into an aromatic cloud of juniper bush. We pass an open doorway and are suddenly steeping in a pot of chamomile tea. (It’s a red herring: Bonoli is careful to note that the facility also processes botanicals for Gruppo Montenegro’s other spirits and line of teas.)

At the facility, botanicals are processed for Gruppo Montenegro’s spirits and line of teas.

Artemisia, a genus of herbaceous plants with many culinary and medicinal uses, is being prepared for boiling. Bonoli steers me toward four open sacks of various varieties — small absinthe, valais wormwood, Roman wormwood, and genepy. He scoops up a handful from one, encouraging me to do the same. I bring my nose to my palm. The smell is bitter, dusty, medicinal, and very green.

Approaching the tour’s conclusion, we round a corner and are greeted by the bracing aroma of Vicks Vaporub; the Fresh & Balsamic essence is coming off the still. Bonoli extracts us a sample. At 80 percent alcohol, it’s only suitable for lip wetting, but I detect flavors of bay leaf and nutmeg, like Thanksgiving on a crisp morning. He cuts it with water, and it turns cloudy like pastis, indicating that it’s rich in essential oils.

The Teramo plant is responsible for producing all the essences that comprise Amaro Montenegro except for one, il premio. Bonoli speaks of it in hushed, reverent tones. Each bottle contains only one drop of the premio, which is produced at the company headquarters in Bologna, but without it, it wouldn’t be Montenegro. Its five ingredients are, naturally, top secret, but as I smell a dab applied to my wrist with an eye-dropper, I suspect they simply melt down Creamsicles.

Why All the Secrecy?

Of course, Amaro Montenegro isn’t the only amaro or bitter liqueur to keep its recipe behind closed doors. Amaro Ramazzotti has been made with the same “secret” blend of 33 herbs and roots since its creation in Milan in 1815. Fernet-Branca, produced in Milan since 1845, shares only a handful of its 27 components with the public, and those five ingredients are prepared by the company’s CEO in a locked room. Campari’s recipe, rumored to contain up to 80 ingredients, is such a closely guarded secret that only three individuals know it, and their identities are protected, too.

Even Germany’s hard-partying Jägermeister is tight-lipped about the 56 botanicals, fruits, and herbs in its formula.

Amaro Montenegro classifies its herbs to create a selection of “essences.”

Asked about the reasons behind Amaro Montenegro’s extreme stealth — which seems especially unnecessary in this facility, which is closed to the public and where the six employees are all lifers — Bonoli sighs. “I don’t know,” he says. He tells a story of the night before in Rome, where he went for a drink at The Court, a cocktail bar across from the Colosseum:

“When the bartender found out where I worked, he told me that he didn’t believe we actually started from botanicals. He accused us of using powders and flavorings,” Bonoli says. “This is what we’re up against, but it is a problem of our own making. We are so secretive about how Amaro Montenegro is made that people start believing we have something to hide.”

“In Italy,” he continues, “we have a saying—‘San Tommaso che non ci crede se non ci mette il naso.’ It means, ‘Saint Thomas doesn’t believe something unless he can put his nose right into it.’”

The expression refers to Saint Thomas, one of the Twelve Apostles of Jesus, who is commonly known as “Doubting Thomas” for not believing in the resurrection until he saw Jesus’s wounds. Had that Roman bartender been able to visit Montenegro’s processing plant, to wander the thickly scented rooms and put his nose right into the sacks of aromatic herbs, he’d likely be a believer.

Still, it’s Amaro Montenegro; with it and any other liquid legend, it’s almost as if the secret ingredient is secrecy itself.

The article Get a Sneak Peek Inside a Legendary Amaro Distillery appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/amaro-montenegro-distillery-tour/ source https://vinology1.tumblr.com/post/190159788099

[aiotabek]

On the mend but not better yet.  I look and feel like I fell into a vat of acid. Everything aches. I wish my nose would just fall off, but I haven’t taken any cold medicine since this afternoon and the waterworks are slowing up. Still... going on box 4 of tissues since yesterday. 

I slept a good portion of the day, filled the rest with mindless netflix and watching youtube videos on cool crafty things that make me want to try them. I’m having a meal I can’t taste, then a hot shower to help loosen up and clear out some gunk, another generous coating of Vicks vaporub and an early night.  

I have to be well enough to pop by the gaming store tomorrow to pick up my special order.  They’re small and new and every dollar counts - so I need to make sure I get my stuff paid for and picked up. Thank god they’re just down the street from me. I can head in, pay and head back out again and hopefully minimize exposing the plague too much. 

Looking forward to picking up my Squig Hoppers though.... it’s been AGES and I’ve been wanting to run Squig Hopper Races again. It’s only been 20 years since the last time I did it... but it’s a fun, short game almost anybody can play and the chaos is part of what makes it so much fun. 

GOD I hope I’m feeling at least somewhat human by Monday.