#it feels like i'm regaining my sense of taste after being really sick it's so weird

[mothbaaalls]

lately i'm trying to not think about all the ways my brain got fucked up BUT i discovered that i can enjoy my music again!!!

interestingly it's mostly rock and metal that i can still enjoy but i'm not limited to just listening to utsu-p anymore

[mintytealfox]

Hi-ho! I got a headcanon for nortalice, food related this time! 😁

Now, I imagine that Norton didn't have much of warm/hot food during his life, much less access to them. The one time he had hot food, was when he was 5 and had a cold, and his father made watery soup that was more hot water than anything (Don't mind me, just sliding my own headcanon about his parent 😅) So when he does have hot food (maybe Alice takes him out to eat together, maybe as part of a stake out for a story she's tracking) and takes a bite, he's genuinely taken aback by the flavors and warmth , that he starts silently tearing up, much to Alice's concern and him just trying to quickly regain his composure and wiping away his tears.

And relating this to acts of service being a love language (maybe? 😅), I like to imagine Norton trying to cook for Alice. Like maybe after sleeping over at her apartment, he wants to repay her back and wants to whip up some breakfast. Problem is: Norton doesn't know how to cook. Then again, poor guy staved off stale loaves of bread and maybe boiled potatoes. So imagine Alice's face when she sees a plate of uneven cuts of fruits and mushed potatoes that were not peeled, much to his embarssment XD

But he is open to learn and he and Alice bond over that, because I can imagine that during her time as an experiment subject, she was only fed food that provided the necessary substances and nutrients, no paid mind to flavor or style 😓

Sidenote: I'm split between if they are the type to feed each other food or not, maybe if they feel playful? 😊😅

FOOD 🤌🤌👏👏👏👏😍

Gosh yea, I bet it was bread all day everyday, easiest to buy, easiest to find, and it can last a bit before going bad ah

gosh he really does strike me as someone who enjoys warmth in the comfort sense ;;

awww, I really do hope his dad took good care of him even though he himself was dying ;; Sounds like he was a really good kid and guy for a long while until he finally snapped ;; So I am wondering if he learned that good from his dad since the mom isn't mentioned ever ah

I bet Norton only knows how to cook what kept him alive all this time, like you said probably potatoes and bread (GOSH this dude gets me all sad sometimes AHHHH) BUT I bet he makes them potatoes and bread real well with those nasty potatoes and flour he could afford. So seeing the fancy potatoes and flour he'd be like "even the flour and potatoes look rich here....." Going about the usual routine and seeing how his process works with this fancy versions. Might taste real good actually lol Only making one meal over and over and over, bruhv an expert at that meal lol -curls up in a ball and sobs, NORTON-

YES! He has such a thirst for knowledge he would take to the teaching so well! Bro being a good COOK -SOBS-

GOSH! Receiving that help and assistance to broaden the sorts of foods he can eat, so he won't get as sick when branching out anymore, and Alice sitting with him when he does get sick from too much nutrient rich foods -SOOOOOOBS-

LOL I don't think they would feed each other unless one was sick~ Then I could see it LOL

[mouthsfullofsharpteeth]

I noticed in a tag you said you had vampire Alex thoughts.

Could we hear them?

yes. yes you can. answering this days after you sent it, but thats because i had too many thoughts to properly pin down, and i wanted to be able to actually list some headcanons :>

so i have two different sort of thoughts for this, one being in a post canon setting that i've been roleplaying and am probably going to try and convert into a fanfiction format which i would post, so i can say more about that one later. but in this post i'm gonna talk about my other concept, which takes place during college in a pre-canon/alternate universe setting.

cw for animal death, violence, general vampire and canon typical stuff

alex getting turned was essentially him being a failed midnight snack. he's leaving a party that involved some of his cast and crew, he might be a little drunk and so he makes for easy prey. as alex is passing an especially dark part of the road, he get's pounced on by some hungry vamp, immediately starts freaking out, because even though alex likes horror this is still a bit much for him with no warning. he should have been dead meat, but the vampire gets attacked by something (or someone) else, giving alex the perfect chance to flee. i'm using twilight logic here too for the turning, so when his attacker becomes the attacked, some vampire blood falls into his open neck wound, and thats what kickstarts his turning.

after that, alex is holing up in his room for a few days, sick and exhausted and hurting and so so hungry, but unable to keep any food down, his body practically repelling it. at some point, he gets this urge to go into the woods, and i have this image in my head of him going completely radio silent to everyone, just off in the forest for WEEKS. no on hears from him at all, which is so unlike alex, because even though he can be bitchy sometimes, he is fiercely loyal to his friends and would never just up and disappear like this. in reality though, alex doesn't even feel like alex anymore. he's a new vampire, doesn't even know fully what's happening to him, and is inadvertently starving himself to death. he's delirious, 90% out of his mind. all the humanity gone from his eyes, just over dilated pupils and blood red irises, upper and lower canines that are too big for his mouth now, at least an inch long that poke out when he closes his lips. alex doesn't know how to hunt, doesn't know how to correctly feed, just knows he's desperate and hysterical with hunger, racing through the woods at night like an animal, holing up in the hollows of trees during the day, when he really does seem to become an animal. after all, the sun feels like fire now, sets his skin ablaze, smoke and all, and if he's human sized, he's too big to hide. so figuring out that he could shape shift into a bat was sort of accidental, but now it's what he used to protect himself from the daylight.

he catches squirrels and rabbits and mice and drains them dead, unable to stop himself from feeding in time for the small animals to survive. it tastes like trash, like the worst fast food he's ever had, and it might hold him over for a few hours, but after that, he's just as insatiable.

eventually, he would regain enough sense briefly to find one of his friends and drop to his knees begging for help, and thus begins his friends routinely allowing him to snack on them, occasionally letting him have a full meal. that stops being a thing when he finally tries tim's blood, because something about it is so different from brian and jay's human blood. something indescribably more... wild about it. aka, tim is a werewolf, and werewolf blood is even more delicious than plain human blood, and tim's wolf self was what saved alex from that vampire when he got turned, and then they fall in love later <3

i really like this au, and would be super up for talking more about it if anyone wants to hehe

[poppysmc]

You bet - Chapter 3: Just Catch Me (Rewrite)

As the days passed, the push and pull between Poppy and Morgan continued, with Poppy persistently trying to ask Morgan out, and Morgan dodging her every attempt. Poppy didn't give up easily though, and she kept making attempts to win Morgan over.

One day, Poppy presented her with a rose and she smiled in a non-threatening way, or at least she thought so. Without breaking eye contact, Morgan dropped the rose into the trash and walked away, leaving Poppy gaping. (Morgan had been so sick of seeing roses; it had been a week, and she still found rose petals in her room. Her room had started to smell like a funeral home.)

On another occasion, Poppy bought Morgan some imported pastries, ones that she had shipped straight from France, hoping to impress Morgan with the gesture. But once again, Morgan's response left her frustrated. She gave the pastries away without even tasting them, asking if anyone else wanted a piece. Poppy started to question her approach.

—-----

"Time was running out, Pops, and we were already in Plan K." Veronica tried to rile her up, amused by her disastrous plans. What did you guys think? What strategy did you want our Queen to try next? Click the link to vote! Veronica's live stream and teasing about Poppy's numerous failed attempts at winning Morgan's heart only added to Poppy's frustration.

She grabbed Veronica’s phone and tried to turn it off, trying to regain some control over the situation, but Veronica easily took it from her. "You're not that tall, you know?" Veronica teased, holding the phone out of Poppy's reach.

"She was playing hard to get. I thought it was cute before, but now it was just annoying." Poppy bit her lower lip. Morgan was really frustrating.

Chloe tried to offer some advice. "Maybe tone down the cockiness when you're asking her out. Girls don't like that. If I were Morgan, I, for sure, would be terrified."

Poppy defended herself, insisting, "I'm not cocky!"

"Whoa, chill. We're just trying to help you out." Chloe responded.

"Okay, fine. Let's just go with my plan, okay? Plan K will make me proud." Poppy said, hoping that this time it would be different.

"Well, the 11th time's the charm." Veronica said. Poppy playfully punched her on the arm, but Veronica quickly distanced herself to avoid further retaliation.

"Ow, now I'm beginning to feel sorry for Morgan if this is how you show your appreciation.” she said, trying to lighten the mood.

-----

"Morgan," Poppy called after her. 

Morgan turned, already feeling exasperated. She knew that voice. "Poppy, I swear to God, if this is another one of your bizarre games, I'm gonna lose it."

Poppy could tell that Morgan had had enough of her unpredictable behavior. But this time, Poppy was done and had nothing to lose, so she followed Chloe’s stupid idea.

"Please just listen," Poppy began, her voice filled with genuine emotion. "I- I'm sorry for being too presumptuous. I just really like you, okay? Give me a chance, please." Poppy would have died if Veronica knew, but right now she wasn’t above begging.

To her relief, Morgan didn't pull away or reject her this time. Instead, she let Poppy reach for her hand, signaling a willingness to hear her out.

"Fine, if it doesn't work out, you'll leave me alone?" Morgan asked, her voice weary from the chase.

Poppy didn't hesitate. "Of course, I promise. I won't bother you anymore if you don't want me to."

Morgan seemed to weigh her options for a moment before finally relenting. "Okay, fine." She agreed, her tone softening. Morgan had always found it hard to resist the charm of beautiful girls.

Poppy was surprised and elated by Morgan's response. She hadn't expected her to say yes so easily. "Oh, You will? Was that a yes?" she asked, a smile spreading across her face.

Morgan rolled her eyes but couldn't hide a small smile of her own. "Yes, but don't screw it up," she warned.

"I won't, I promise." Poppy assured her, feeling a sense of relief and excitement. "I'll text you when. Thank you, Morgan."

She couldn't help herself and rose up to her tiptoes, planting a kiss on Morgan's cheek before walking away. As she left, Morgan could feel the warmth on her cheek where Poppy had touched it.

------

“Sooo? Are we moving to Plan L? That one’s my favorite.” Veronica asks her when she sidles up to them after asking Morgan out again.

Poppy smiles triumphantly at Veronica's reaction. "No, I already have a date." she announces proudly. Veronica's eyes widen in disbelief and excitement. 

"No way! You finally did it. I'm so proud, I might even cry. It was getting really painful to watch you fail." Veronica said. 

Chloe joins in, cringing at the memories of Poppy's failed attempts. "Yeah, really painful." 

Ignoring their playful jabs, Poppy admits. "I didn't plan this far. I was too focused on getting her to say yes." 

"That's sad. But you know we'll help." Veronica reassures her, placing her hand on Poppy's shoulder. Chloe nods in agreement. "Absolutely, we'll come up with a perfect plan together." She says.

-----

Poppy looked at her friends incredulously. "Are you freaking serious?" she asked, not convinced by their choice of an amusement park as a date spot.

“The amusement park is a good date spot, says so on Bing,” Chloe replied.

“She’s right, I took a girl there. She was all over me by the end of the day.” Veronica said, her eyes glazing over. Poppy and Chloe rolled their eyes at where her thoughts were heading.

“But the germs and the people,” Poppy shuddered. “Can’t we have dinner at an expensive restaurant or something normal?”

Veronica shook her head. "It's Morgan we're talking about. I bet she's tired of all this pretentious stuff. And because I asked Zoey, the amusement park is high up on the top 3 list."

"What are the other options?" Poppy asked reluctantly, feeling like she was being cornered.

Chloe grinned mischievously. "Okay, you asked for it; the Zoo and fruit picking. I doubt you can handle that much physical activity and proximity to animals."

"That's it? Those are terrible first date options!" Poppy exclaimed, feeling a bit frustrated.

"We told you so," Veronica said with a smirk.

Poppy took a deep breath and conceded defeat. "Fine, amusement park it is. I'll text her now." She said, taking out her phone. As she texted Morgan to confirm the date, she couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. While it may not be the luxurious or fancy date she envisioned, if it would bring her close to Morgan, then she would soldier through the ordeal.

-----

She picked up her phone and sent a text to Morgan, trying to act casual even though her heart was racing.

Poppy: Hey, are you free this Saturday for our date? In case you forgot.

A few minutes later, Morgan responded, and Poppy couldn't help but smile when she saw the message.

Morgan: Yeah, what time?

Poppy took a deep breath before responding, trying to sound confident.

Poppy: Is 9 AM good for you? I'll pick you up. Morgan: That’s weirdly early but, okay.

Poppy locked her phone, feeling nervous, but she'd be damned if she backed out now.

[regrettablewritings]

I'm feeling a Nevada Ramirez mood (love that damn asshole) but if you aren't feeling writing for him then I give this up to authors choice. But from the current ships numbers perhaps: 3 (because I wanna get fucked up), 9 (because I have to), 10 (because I would like to know your thoughts) and 11 (because I am wildly curious)

("I'm feeling a Nevada Ramirez mood" Translation: "I want a daddy to spit in my fuckgng mouth" Sorry, I don't make the rules about language translation.🤷🏽‍♀️)

3. Which one outlives the other, and how they cope:

You'd always kind of sort of lived in a fairytale. In hindsight, though, you probably had to: It's what probably made being with his stupid ass a bit easier. Kind of like you were living in one of those stories where a monster that terrorized some bucolic tiny town could be brought down to size by a soul of pure heart. Maybe even regain his human form.

If only your story had had a happy ending.

In a way, Nevada felt he was to blame for that; clearly, sticking with you had really only encouraged that type of behavior, or so he thought.

And now look where that ended you: All that gross-ass makeup to make you look like your last moments hadn't been agonizing (the coroner insisted it had been quick, but Nevada called bullshit); those stiff clothes that you never would've worn unless you had to (Nevada never would've put you in them if he had more of a choice); eyes closed, never to see the telltale signs of the one you left behind coming undone (actually, in a sick way, Nevada didn't necessarily mind this; it spared him the humiliation).

There wasn't even necessarily any sign that you had been targeted; the general theory really was that you'd been taken out by a stray bullet. But in some part of him, Nevada couldn't believe that. He didn't want to. It just made so much perfect sense in his mind: You were just minding your own damn business, walking home after a shift ended a little later than expected. You were the very picture of innocent and unsuspecting, all vulnerable and without him. In short: That was the perfect time for some rival gang or some shit to take a shot at you.

And the thought made Nevada's blood boil to the point that it evaporated into the air, further polluting these fucking New York skies with his inner toxicity being exposed. He'd make whoever did this to you choke. But not before roughing them up a lil bit. Maybe cut off some fingers. Some toes . . . Maybe a pound of flesh as payment if there was any time left, who knows.

But first, his men had to find them.

To say that Nevada does not take your passing well would be an understatement. He's somehow more violent. Somehow a lot less tolerant of bullshit (and he already wasn't before). If anyone so much as blinks wrong, they run the risk of having a nearly feral fuck jump at them and attempt to rip their face off.

His men, who already feared and respected him, dare not occupy the same room as him any longer than they have to. They miss you as a person, of course, but they never knew just how much of a hold you had on their boss until that hand was gone.

Sure, he goes through the usual motions seen in others, like sitting in his chair, downing copious amounts of whatever was left in his liquor cabinet. And, of course, there's the stages of grieving: He's eternally stuck oscillating between guilt and anger.

He was supposed to be the one that got killed out here, him! Not you: Sweet, kind, patient, hard-headed, stupid-assed you! He got that, why couldn't God get with the program on that!? He was the dealer, the gang leader putting himself into all kinds of problems with others; you were just some innocent bystander who happened to get caught in his web, decide they liked it there, and inexplicably stuck around.

And now you're dead. He was being selfish, you were being stupid, and now you were dead.

He stares blankly at nothing before humming with a sip of whatever the hell is in his glass now, he doesn't fucking remember. Can't taste it anyway; his sense of taste disappeared, floated away with your spirit the moment he learned of your passing.

The pure-hearted soul that kept the village safe was gone; all that remained was the carnivorous beast, ready to rampage and raze the town to the ground.

9. Which one swears more?:

Just in time for the 20210 Summer Olympics, we have a new category to observe: Fucking Goddamn Cussing Up a Shitstorm! Representing Washington Heights, we have a cussing prodigy, Nevada Ramirez! Also representing Washington Heights by way of duel citizenship between the apartments, we have . . . You!

Okay but in all seriousness, Nevada is definitely the gold medal-winner here. Science indicates that cussing helps to relieve stress and for as collected as Nevada likes to appear in front of others, 5'9" is not a lot of space for stress to go. He's constantly bottling up that shit! What's worse, though, is that the fucker makes it sound elegant.

How does he make "fuck" sound so gentle when it leaves his lips with a cold-eyed glower!? Who the hell knows!

Erstwhile, you're a pretty good runner-up. Even if you were a big cusser before getting with Nevada, you could never catch up with him -- he's just had way too many experiences where he felt the need to pepper the ambience with some cursing. And if you weren't as into it before . . . I'm sorry, boo, but you'll be picking up that nasty habit of his like you were picking up the torch for the Cussing Olympics. Bon chance!

10. What TV shows they watch together, and which ones they hide from the other:

Noah . . . How did you know I was planning to do a preference on what characters watch with their S/Os? Not that I can confirm or deny that Nevada was in that one but --

Nevada didn't really watch TV a whole lot before you two got together. It was a mix of him not having a lot of time and him not having a lot of care to keep up with anything. Everything is so goddamn serialized, what's even the point?

Really, the only reason he bought subscriptions to streaming services was to keep you entertained for when he had to be out the house or some junk. But there were a few too many times where he'd come home late and find you curled up on the couch.

". . . The hell're you still doing up --"

"Ssh!"

". . . Did you just --"

"Yes, now sshhh! I'm about to see who this chick picks to go to bed with."

Of course, 'Vada is pissed; people don't shush him, he shushes them! What the fuck could be so interesting that you'd do that!? He takes his glare from you to the screen . . . and about thirty minutes in, he gets it. He'd never say it out loud, but deep down, he knows why you like Love Island. It's stupid, it's trashy, he hates these dumbass twenty-somethings making drama out of nothing, and for fuck's sake will somebody talk to the girl with the dark skin and short hair she's the hottest one there --

Of course, he tries hard not to show his interest, taking seats next to you when you're watching "because he's tired", adding his own commentary "because these pendejos need to know better", etc. And, of course, it doesn't fool you in the slightest. As amused as you are, though, you don't tease him about it; you're afraid that if you do, your stubborn boyfriend would put up a fight in the form of leaving you to watch your silly little show by yourself. And you really don't mind sharing the show with him . . . No, solitary watching is reserved for your cartoons.

Nevada may let things with you slip to a point but the moment he learns you like to watch anything animated, he's on your ass with the ruthless taunting. Which is like the pot calling the kettle black because 'Vada's secret pleasure is even worse: daytime soap operas. Admittedly, there's some sentimentality connected to them (he remembers being at his Abuela's house and seeing her get really into some telenovelas), but the fact of the matter is really more that he's invested in the drama and bullshit going on between all this lunatics who we're supposed to buy as being doctors or CEOs or whatever over-glamorized positions they're supposed to have.

He doesn't actually get to watch them often but . . . hey, that's what he pays certain grunts to do for him.

Okay I had way too much fun writing these so lemme just cut myself off now. Thanks for asking!!!

[agentsoftie]

“I Love You” ( S.R )

summary: you get kidnapped and tortured but luckily the team find you fast enough. you act like everything’s fine but spencer doesn’t believe it so he takes care of you. when he does this you both share some things

a/n: the title is like a quote from everyone and everything that has said it! yes, i did just think of that. also the first part of this might be triggering so, trigger warning! oh and thanks @thestrawberrygirl for helping me with the end!!

warnings: trigger warning: blood, cuts, mention of death : angst : fluffy end though because i like to make y/n’s life always have a fairytale ending

pairing: spencer reid x reader

tagging: @criminalmindsmoodrn, @marshmallowtraver, and @ghostly-angelic

Remember to like and reblog!!

It’s been 21 hours. 21 hours since you got captured. Or at least that’s what the clock said. All you remember before blacking out was going out in the field. Everyone was split into pairs but you were the only one alone. You remember going out into a pitch-black alleyway. I guess that’s what you expect from going into one at night as a woman right.

You looked down to find cuts and blood all over you. You could still feel the pain but at this point, you had given up on any promise of your team finding you again. You just accepted your faith and tried not to entertain the guy that was holding you captive. You couldn’t get up because your ribs we’re broken, or at least that would explain the tremendous amounts of pain you felt when you tried to get up the first couple of times. You could feel that there was blood on your face, but what was the point of cleaning up. No one was gonna see you alive, except him.

“CLAUDE IRAY!!” You hear someone yell. You’re pretty sure it was Derek but at this point, this could all be a hallucination.

“Yes?” You hear him say smugly. You couldn’t tell where he was, but he was somewhere.

“You’re under arrest for the murder of 5 women, now where is Y/N Y/L/N!!” Derek said while cuffing him. Claude just remained silent.

“Y/N!! Y/N!!” You hear Spencer yell.

“In here!” You say after mustering up the energy to speak.

“Oh my god!” He says as he sees you. You couldn’t really see him. All you saw was his messy fluffy hair. You love that hair. He runs over to you and puts your head on his lap. He finds your pulse which is barely still there. He grabs your hand as you start to close your eyes. “Stay with me, come on you can do that. Just keep your eyes open for me. Come on,”

You didn’t quite finish hearing what he said because it was too late. Your eyes were closed, and you were fine with it. You had known something like this would possibly happen when you signed up for the academy so there was no arguing. The best you could do was try not to get blood on his shirt, which you miserably failed at.

“Y/N? Y/N come on. Y/N please,” All you felt was a tear on your face before blacking out.

“Reid, it’s been 3 days, you need to go home and get some sleep.” You faintly hear someone say.

“Hotch, no. I can’t leave her. She needs someone.”

“She has someone. Garcia, JJ, and Blake are outside right now and Morgan and Rossi are on their way here. But the difference is that they actually got sleep last night, and you should too. In your own bed, at home.”

“But sir,” Before he could say anything you moved your hand in a visible way and opened your eyes only to close them because of the blinding lights that were shining down. They both turned to look at you and just stared.

“Well hello to the both of you too,” You mummer while trying to sit up a little. “I uh, where am I?”

“Um, the hospital,” Spencer says.

“Oh, okay. Chill,” You say while your eyes still process all the light. 3 women entered the room, they were pretty blurry so you could barely tell who they were. “Oh my god, baby are you okay?” You see the one on the right say.

“Yeah, or think at least.”

One of them came quickly to your side and hed your hand, that was Blake. “Don’t you ever do anything like that again. You had us all worried sick,”

“Okay mom,” You say jokingly, but everyone else doesn’t seem to find it funny.

“We’re serious hun. We were all terrified of what could have happened to you.” Now that was JJ. She just had her ‘disappointed for no reason but seriously worried’ mom voice going on.

“Oh, you’re awake, finally,” Rossi says while he walks through the door with Derek following him. Derek didn’t say anything, he just came next to you and patted your shoulders with the ‘I’m glad you’re okay kid’ look.

“Yes yes I am awake and well, or at least I think. What ever happened to me? And what happened to him?” You say now fully awake.

“You were unconscious and unstable. Luckily Reid found you in time, or else you probably wouldn’t be here right now. And as for Iray, he’s in jail for now, but you will need to testify.” Hotch says in his normal stern voice. It was like nothing changed, but you and everyone else knew that they had a big time.

“So how damaged am I?” You say just as the doctor walks in.

“I can help you with that. I’m Dr.Stevens and its nice to see that you’re up. You have a mild concussion, a few broken ribs, and some physical therapy.” She says while checking your BP. “How long will I be here?” You ask wanting to get out of this shit hole. “Um, about 3 or 4 days. Although when you do get home you’re gonna want to have someone there, so do you have anyone that could help?

Before you could say anything Spencer answered. “She’s staying with me.” You didn’t want to argue with him because you didn’t have any relatives that could take care of you, and you felt safe in his company. Plus, he looked like he hadn’t gotten any sleep and you did not want to mess with ‘no sleep Spencer’ it was like a death sentence.

“Okay, great!” Is all she said before walking out.

“Spencer are you sure about this?” You ask while you get changed.

“Yes, Y/N. I am sure. Now come on, hurry up.”

“So, you’re just gonna drop me off at my place right,” You ask when opening the curtain.

“No. You are gonna stay with me, at my place.”

“But,”

“No ‘buts’ come on, you need someone.”

“I know I know I just don’t want to be a burden.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you’re not. Now come one, let’s get checked out.”

The car ride home was silent, but it was a comforting silence. A silence you needed after the disaster of a week you had. Spencer’s apartment was about half an hour away from the hospital, but yours was only 20 so you were confused as of stopping. “Wait, if I’m staying at your place then don’t I need clothes?”

“Yeah, Blake went and got some?”

“She has my key? Huh?”

“Yeah, you gave it to her the other day. You probably don’t remember though.” He says while laughing very lightly. There was the Spencer you knew. The Spencer you love. The Spencer you would do anything for. But, you couldn’t have him. Maeve was the only one he had ever loved and knowing him, he’s probably still grieving.

“Okay, here we are,” He says while pulling up to a semi-empty parking lot. He got out first, but being the kind gentleman he is he helped you out. Luckily you didn’t have any bags or luggage to carry with you so it wasn’t that hard to get to his place but you were still sore as hell so the ride up the elevator was a little painful. Spencer had noticed and asked if you were okay, but all you said was everything’s fine, and that he shouldn’t worry. He knew better though so the minute you walked in the apartment he went in the kitchen.

“Spencer, what are you doing?” You say sitting down.

“Here, drink this. I used to make this for my mom whenever she got a headache.” He says handing you a drink.

“But I don’t have a headache,”

“Just drink it, trust me.” So you did exactly what he said and drank it. You couldn’t tell if it was tea or coffee. It had a peppermint taste and smell though so you were very confused and he noticed. “Its uh, peppermint tea. Does it taste good?” You simply responded with a nod. “Well, um we should probably go to sleep now,” He says while looking outside.

“I can just sleep here on the couch or something, it’s no big deal,” You say halfway finished with the tea.

“I can’t just let you sleep on the couch. what if you get hurt?”

“And how would that happen?”

“I don’t know but what if? Come on how about you sleep in my bed and I’ll sleep here. On the couch,”

“Spencer, I can’t just take your own bed from you in your own house. That’s just plain rude.”

“Fine then sleep with me. Oh, wait, I didn’t mean that,” He says fumbling over his words. You loved it when he did this, it gave him a more human side. “I mean, you and I can sleep in the same bed. It’s a win-win for both of us. You know, like I will sleep in my own bed like you want, and you’ll be safe like I want.” You never noticed how much he talks with his hands when he gets nervous, it’s cute.

“Okay, fine. Just know that i'm fine though.”

“Stop!! Please!! I didn't do anything! Please, I promise I wont say anything!!” You yell in the middle of the night or whatever. You didn't know, it was a dream. But it felt so real. It was like he was there and it was happening all over again. “Please just let me go!” You yell again. You couldn't help it.

“Y/N! Y/N! Y/N wake up!” Spencer yells as he moves your arm.

You open your eyes and immediately jump up. “Spencer, I uh, I'm, I’m fine.” You say still trying to regain all your air. You weren't fine and he knew it. I mean, how do explain that without saying the truth? Do you say you had a dream about Hotch giving you more paperwork? No, he would never believe that. What about you getting your haircut involuntarily? That could possibly work.

“Y/N, you're not fine,” He says in a very scratch deep voice. He had just woken up and you could tell.

“Yes I am, now go back to-” You were cut off by a very new version of Spencer. A version you had never seen before. You weren’t scared in a sense just worried. He wasn’t playing around and definity was not going to go to sleep until you admit everything.

“Y/N come on. Just tell me everything. Was that about, you know,” he says in a more softer comforting tone this time.

“Just call him by his name. Claude Iray. And yeah, it was. Now can we just go back to sleep, my back is killing me.”

“Come here,” he said before pulling you close to his chest. It was comfortable and actually really soothing. “Talk, tell me everything.”

“I can't. I can’t cause’ if I do then it's like living it all over again and I just, I just can't!”

“What were you thinking about?” He asks as if nothing just happened.

“When?”

“In those 21 hours.”

“The team, my friends, you. I was thinking about all the things that I didn't get to say. The things that I needed to say.”

“Like what?”

“Well, um,” you pulled away from his chest, not sure if what you were gonna say next would be the best option in the world. “I was thinking of how I didnt get to say “I love you” to you. And I totally get it if you know you don't feel the same way. It makes total sense and stuff, and if this is uncomfortable and stuff I can go to Alex’s. She is kinda like my mom so it would make sense if she took care of me. Oh god now I'm rambling.”

He looked at you for a second as if he was unsure with what you just said. But then he grabbed you and put his lips on yours. It took you a minute to process everything that was happening, but the minute you did you kissed back. He pulled you in closer the minute you did. Sadly though you both needed to break apart because of loss of air.

“I love you too,”

“Love is a great beautifier”

— louisa may alcott

[fancifulwhump]

i'm LIVING for your jaskier fics omg!! would you be at all interested in writing a prompt where Jaskier is riding Roach because he's not feeling well, but Geralt doesn't realize how bad the fever really is until he falls off? (if that's not interesting or too specific, I can try again! no pressure to write this!)

anonymous asked:  would LOVE to see a sick Jaskier with a cold while they’re traveling, and how Geralt would treat him being feverish and sniffly/how Jaskier would complain lol

AN:   absolutely! so sorry this took a hot second, but here you guys go  ---  hope you enjoy!  ;)

The language of Jaskier is above all a loud one... but just as subtle as any beast’s dialect, filled with intricacies and rhythms that Geralt cannot help taking note of the more he listens. It’s really not the same thing, of course. Non-speaking monsters really can’t use their words; they have no way to express how they feel, except by eating you. Jaskier hasn’t tried to do that. Yet. (Sometimes the way he eyes Geralt in the bath leaves him feeling the day’s not far off.) 

To the contrary — if anything, Jaskier is too verbal. He doesn’t know how to shut up.

Getting used to this took longer than Geralt would have liked. It also demanded considerably more patience than he realized he had. Somehow, staking out a monster’s lair for days in complete silence is bearable... but Sitting through one of Jaskier’s endless rambles is asking too much. Even Witchers can only endure so much.

“Do you ever shut up?” Geralt demanded one day, cutting off the motor-mouthed fool in the middle of another tangent.

Jaskier blinked at him, as though seriously considering the question, then shrugged. “Not a talent of mine, really.”

Miraculously, he did, for a moment. Despite all his instincts screaming to the contrary, Geralt nearly allowed himself to believe his outburst had worked... until Jaskier steppes on a twig, just a bit too loudly, then said, “I was asked the very same thing in bed not too long ago, actually, by this glorious milkmaid — granted, her accent was too thick to make out a word, so she might have been asking me to pass her my ruddy lute, who knows. But she was very enthusiastic —“

And that started him up all over again. Damn the gods.

In spite of it all, Geralt would be lying if he claimed to hate Jaskier’s blathering too much. Sometimes it’s... unique, not being constantly surrounded by silence. He wouldn’t call it nice, not be a long shot, but... it isn’t altogether unpleasant. Jaskier can make for entertaining company in his better moods, and he does keep things interesting. A routine pack of wargs can turn into a colorful job, so long as Jaskier is along to elaborate on it later. Geralt doubts he cuts such a striking figure “swinging his sword to the leaping beast’s belly”, as Jaskier’s latest gig claims, but...

Sometimes, it is nice not to be surrounded by silence. Even if that means putting up with Jaskier’s mouth more than he would like.

Case in point:

“Geralt.” A whine, then a cough, then a passionate sniffle. “Can we slow down? Please? I’ve asked thrice already —“

Four times. Geralt’s been counting. 

Gritting his teeth, he urges Roach a bit faster, conscious of the sound of struggling bard trailing a bit behind him. Jaskier makes no effort to be discreet when he moves, so Geralt can hear everything in perfect detail. The crunch of twigs beneath his heavy feet; the strain of his breaths, a bit more labored than they should be, a bit more congested; the way his chest rattles when he launches into another coughing fit. Even with a nasty cold, Jaskier’s loud.

“Just because I can’t catch it,” says Geralt once the latest fit has passed, “doesn't mean you need to cough on me.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I’ll be sure to aim my dying gasps towards the wilderness next time.” Backtalk is a talent Jaskier can’t help himself honing, even sick as a dog. His brows, foreword with childish petulance, draw even tighter together as he wraps both arms around himself, hunching in. A shiver courses through him; Geralt distinctly hears the rattle of chattering teeth. The second Jaskier catches his eyes lingering, however, he plays up his misery for the perceived audience, pouting and wiping at his face. Geralt rolls his eyes, looking away.

Geralt understands the patterns of many beasts, but Jaskier’s language was one of the easiest to learn. The Law of Jaskier: as long as he’s talking, he’s fine. 

And he hasn’t stopped talking since early this morning. No, not talking — complaining. Gods help him, Jaskier hasn’t stopped complaining.

He still stubbornly follows Geralt out on the road, however; in spite of his red nose and phelmgy cough, Jaskier refuses to be left behind. It wouldn’t be the first time he chose to linger in a particular village which Geralt went on ahead, but Jaskier insisted the last one one didn’t appeal to him — “Everyone looks half-starved there. No wonder, the food tastes like shit. At midnight I half-expect them all to gather into a mob, hunt down the nearest visiting bard, and fry him on a spit. I have just enough meat on my bones, Geralt, but I wouldn’t be tasty —“

That rant devolved into a coughing fit that left Jaskier doubled over on the side of the road for five minutes, gasping and heaving. Geralt actually had to stop and wait for him. By the time Jaskier recovered, raising himself shakily up from his knees on the dirt road, he looked a mess. His face was bright red, tears lingering at the corners of his eyes; his chest still heaved. That was the moment any sensible person would have turned back… but Jaskier simply steeled himself and carried on.

Fool of a bard, Geralt thinks now, listening to Jaskier’s heavy footsteps behind them. He’s lagging, slowing them both down. His scent has picked up something unfamiliar, an edge of sour sweetness that can only be a fever. At least he’s walking on his own… but he’s not walking fast, is the thing, and they have to walk fast if they want to reach the next town before nightfall. As it is, the prospect looks doubtful; Jaskier has slowed them enough already.

“As soon as we find a bed, I’m collapsing in it —“ Jaskier pauses to sniff again, and clear a hoarse throat. “Then not getting out for a year. A year, Geralt. You’ll have to — drag me by my feet or something.”

“Something,” Geralt agrees, his mind flashing to images of swords and steel. Oh, he’d get the damned bard out of bed.

The trail gets rougher as they make their way further into the mountains. Even Geralt stumbles in places, and he’s built for this sort of travel. He’s wearing the boots for it.  Jaskier is distinctly neither of these things. As Geralt’s must focus more of his attention on their way forward, he almost misses what’s going on behind him — the harshness of his companion’s breaths growing more and more labored, the way Jaskier’s coughs pick up force and frequency, the times he must stop — physically stop — to sneeze or hack his lungs out. Geralt tries to ignore it. He really does. But the fact that he almost manages, for about fifteen minutes, is what alerts him to a much more alarming fact.

Jaskier has stopped complaining.

As soon as Geralt realizes this, he jerks to a halt on the trail. Roach follows his lead… but Jaskier, his head down, doesn’t notice. Instead, he walks straight into Roach’s backside, nearly toppling off his feet. 

“Agh — damn it, Geralt.” Even his indignation sounds listless. “Give a man warning next time, will you?”

“How,” asks Geralt, through gritted teeth, “do you feel?”

Jaskier blinks, appearing to weigh the likelihood that his companion is genuinely concerned or just annoyed. Whatever he decides, he isn’t wrong. Instead of offering an answer, he makes an inarticulate ‘hmm-mmm’, shrugging his shoulders. Geralt’s hard gaze bores into him. Jaskier shrinks under it. After a moment, the pressure grows too much; he breaks. “My head is pounding, to be honest. Feels… dizzy. I don’t know. It’s cold out here.”

“You have a fever,” Geralt observes. 

Jaskier raises his eyebrows, then laughs softly, like he’s not surprised. “Right, yep, that makes sense. Figures you know me better than I do…”

He breaks off into another fit of coughing, which leaves his entire body quaking. Geralt has to actually grab his shoulder to steady him, just in case Jaskier should tumble over. As soon as he’s regained some kind of composure, though, Jaskier pulls away.

“I’ll be fine.” This time, there isn’t a trace of whine in his voice; he isn’t scraping the barrel for pity, but being deadly serious. “Not too long to the next village anyways, is it? I can make it.”

Geralt eyes him for a long moment, weighing the likelihood of getting there in a reasonable amount of time with Jaskier lagging behind. It’s not good. They’ve been making poor time as it is, because he’s had to slow his pace for the damned bard, but Geralt would prefer not to camp along the road overnight. (Because he doesn’t feel like sleeping on hard ground; not because Jaskier in his current state needs a warm bath and bed. Absolutely not.)

He sighs through his teeth. “Get on the horse.”

“What?”

Either Jaskier’s fever is high enough that he can no longer comprehend the common tongue, or he really is an idiot. “The horse,” Geralt emphasizes, patting Roach’s hindquarters in preemptive apology. “If you ride her, we may make it to the nearest village before nightfall.”

This is the one and only time Geralt has ever offered his precious horse; Jaskier knows this, as well as he knows this chance will never come around again. Maybe he’s just an opportunist. Maybe the promise of a roof over his head is that tempting. Either way, Jaskier doesn’t weigh his options for long before doing the sensible thing and getting on the damn horse.

Roach whinnies, making her displeasure at the entire situation clear. Jaskier isn’t helping matters, a dead weight on her back. The horse stamps her hooves, shuffling in dismay, but a look from Geralt chastises her. For the moment, getting the bard out of the woods will have to be more important than her dignity.

No, Geralt doesn’t like it either. One look at Jaskier’s face, though — the hollow-eyed pallor, and the distance, as though he’s drifted out to sea already — reminds him why it is necessary.

This time around, they are able to set a much faster pace. Roach keeps up, just as Geralt knew she would, even carrying the burden that is Jaskier. The sick man doesn’t help his case; rather than ride, Jaskier has both arms braces against Roach’s neck, clearly focused on just keeping his balance. There’s a precarious list to his posture which Geralt keeps an eye on, but he doesn’t actually fall; every time it seems like he might, he rights himself, and a new dawn of clarity rises over his face. It lasts only a moment, of course, before fading away… but it’s something.

It isn’t long before the woods begin to thin out. Geralt tracks their location by the trees, and by the hues of purple and gold beginning to blend together on the horizon. They haven’t far to go, and enough time to do it. Unless they run into any roaming monsters on the way…

He takes his eyes off Jaskier, and there’s the mistake. He forgets. When Jaskier was complaining, at least he was present; by airing his grievances he ensured that he could not be ignored. This quiet Jaskier is a foreign one, and Geralt isn’t used to him. So, he makes a mistake. He looks away, and doesn’t look back… until a gruesome thud echoes from behind him.

Geralt stops dead in his tracks. Roach lets out a distressed whinny. Jaskier says nothing at all.

“Fuck!” Geralt hisses, rushing back to the bard’s crumpled body. Face-down in the dirt, Jaskier makes no attempt to pull himself up. When Geralt hauls him upright with both hands on his shoulders, Jaskier groans, head lolling against his own chest. 

Mud stains his cheeks, and a bruise is sure to form where he hit the ground hard. Even when Geralt seizes his face, though — and damn it, he’s on fire, worse than Geralt thought — Jaskier proves incapable of focusing. An incoherent murmur passes through parted lips. It does exactly nothing to alleviate Geralt’s minor panic.

“Jaskier! Wake up!” Is he even asleep? Geralt can’t tell. “Say something!”

He means it, and the realization comes as an icy shock — never did he imagine he’d ever miss the bard’s incessant prattling. Yet in the sudden absence of Jaskier’s voice, silence rings louder than ever, and it’s smothering Geralt to death. He should have seen this, should have known, should have realized, damn it —

“Jaskier,” he hisses, hauling his companion to his feet. The full weight of Jaskier’s limp body melts against his own. When Jaskier’s burning forehead falls against Geralt’s shoulder, he shrugs, trying to rouse him… but nothing does the job. Even when Geralt, grumbling furiously, is forced to haul Jaskier back up onto Roach and leap up after him, the fever permits Jaskier to do little more than melt against him. His head lolls, eyes half-open and staring into nothing. Worse than it all, he is completely silent.

For once in his life, Geralt misses the damned bard’s complaining.

[kiirogirl]

Don't you shiver

25th March 2020

Her first ever date.

Hand in hand round the food stalls.

Brokenhearted when they part with an, "I'm sorry, it won't work. Your legs are just too fat"

That's what the future had in store for her. It's written in her book, after all.

But little, hopeful Nene seems to have forgotten about this little detail when Fuji-kun, one of her hot classmates, asks her out.

Well, it's actually not her fault if her brain short-circuits when a hot guy is involved. It's just how she is.

But she can't blame no one else either if now she feels like her heart has been ripped from her chest and cut into little pieces.

The only thing she can blame is this stupid feeling of hope that grows in her stomach every time she sets her eyes on a boy who seems like a good person. That kind of hope that makes her all giggly inside. The hope of making someone smile by just being herself.

The hope of sharing something special with a boy who makes her happy.

The hope of being loved and appreciated for what she is.

Nene knows she sounds selfish and maybe immature, but she really needs this. She needs to be loved. She needs to know if she ever crosses someone's mind, 'cause sometimes she just feels like she could disappear and nobody would care.

She is literally afraid of this. Afraid of waking up one morning and feeling terribly lonely. Feeling like she isn't enough for anyone, not even herself.

Because it was never about Fuji-kun or Minamoto senpai or that guy she fell for in middle school. Screw them. It has always been about her and her constant attempts to search for love and validation in a relationship with a popular guy.

And no matter how many times she felt rejected, she never gave up. Because her hope, her desire, never faded.

But now.. Now, she feels like something in her has broken.

She's tired of trying, tired of being stepped on… tired of exposing her heart just for it to be tossed away like trash.

That desperation, that fear of being unable to connect to other people in a way that makes her feel like she's worth of someone's love.. It feels more real than ever.

And it hurts. Her chest hurts. Her stomach hurts. Her head hurts.

She feels like she could throw up at any moment.

And it's all because of her stupid legs.

She hates them.

Nene cries loudly, unable to contain herself.

It must be the reason why Hanako finds her. Or maybe it's the bond, at this point she's not sure.

"Yashiro! There you are" he says as he approaches her. She just stays there, sitting on the dirty floor of the school greenhouse, not saying anything. The look of relief in his face suddenly changes when he sees her crying.

"Do you have any idea how worried I was?" Hanako asks, the anger in his voice in contrast with his concerned eyes.

It's actually very rare to see him like this, all serious and not his usual buffoon self.

His worried expression reminds her of when Hanako took his hat off at the confession tree and for a moment she feels the same reassuring warmth she felt back then.

But then Nene remembers that he led her on too, making her feel stupid for hoping he liked her not just because he needs an assistant but because she means something to him. And her chest hurts more than ever before.

Unable to look at Hanako any longer, she lowers her head, trying to hide it between her crossed arms.

Surprisingly, the boy doesn't say anything at all.

It's so quiet that for an instant she thinks he has left, but then she feels a cold body enveloping her and she doesn't need to look to know that it's the ghost.

Nene actually wants to reject him, to yell at him to stop playing with her feelings, to stop pretending that he cares just because of the bond.

But she doesn't.

"Leave me alone" she whispers instead, knowing perfectly well that he won't listen.

"You know I would never leave you alone when you're like this" he just says, softly kissing her temple while caressing her head.

They stay like that for a while, Hanako holding her tight while she cries her heart out.

It's unfair, Nene thinks. It's unfair that a cold, stupid, kind ghost can make her feel so warm inside. It doesn't make any sense.

"You're unfair" she gives voice to her thoughts as she finally raises her head.

"Well, I need you to be more specific than that" he says jokingly, then with his thumbs he delicately wipes away the tears from her eyes.

Nene can feel her cheeks getting warm under his cool touch.

"Better?" then he asks smiling.

"Yes, I think.." that's the only thing she can answer because yes, she momentarily feels slightly better, but her heart still hurts at the thought that she's gonna die alone.

"I'm sorry if this morning I yelled at you. I have no rights to tell you that you can't go on a date" then he says, holding her hands.

"No, I should apologize for calling you a jerk and not listening to you. At the end you were right… I shouldn't have gone with Fuji-kun" she apologizes, looking at their intertwined fingers.

She wonders if Hanako is aware of the chaos he's creating in her head with these little affectionate gestures.

"He said my legs are too fat for him" then she confesses with a bitter smile, "it was written in my book and even if I knew it was coming, it hurt as hell."

Nene can feel the tears forming again at the corners of her eyes but she immediately wipes them away.

"Yashiro.."

Hanako squeezes her hand and "He's the real jerk. He doesn't deserve you" he declares.

"You're saying that just because I'm your assistant" she decides to confront him.

The ghost searches for any trace of irony in her face, but she looks away.

"What? Why would you say that?" he asks incredulously.

"Because it's true. Sometimes I feel like you only pretend to care about me because we're bonded".

"Yashiro, look at me" Hanako says, lifting her chin with his finger. "I don't know if you're joking or not but this is actually the stupidest thing I have ever heard in 60 years" he affirms.

Nene almost feels offended.

"First of all, why would I do that? Second of all, what would I get out of pretending to care for someone? I'm dead! This is so stupid" he seems actually angry.

"But-"

"I really, really care about you, Yashiro. I care way too much about you. I don't know how you could even think about something like that! Why do you think I'm always worried sick about you? Why do you think I'm always trying to protect you? For the same reason I didn't want you to go on that stupid date! It hurts me to see you hurt, ok? And it hurts me that you think so low of me" he concludes. It seems like he won't allow a reply.

"But Hanako-"Nene can't finish her sentence: it's a moment and her mouth is shut by a pair of cold, pink lips, interrupting her line of thought.

She's shocked and her head spins and her heart feels like it's exploding, but she doesn't pull away.

One of Hanako's hand reaches for her face, starting to caress her burning cheek while her mouth is cuddled by his soft, thin lips.

The kiss is brief and sweet and it's enough to make both a blushing mess.

Hanako is the first to pull back and he's as overwhelmed as Nene.

"I'm sorry! I shouldn't have kissed you without your consent! I'm terribly sorry!" he yells, getting more and more flustered.

"I" she says, trying to regain her mental abilities.

It was her first kiss. She finally gave her first kiss and it tasted like candies, donuts, summer festivals, fireworks and spaceships. It was perfect.

Nene feels like she could melt at any given moment.

"You shouldn't be sorry, I really liked it" she manages to say and in a spurt of courage she reaches for his lips once again. It's another gentle kiss, but it makes Nene heart race and the butterflies in her stomach go wild.

Hanako is melting too, how ironic. He takes his hat off and "now you understand why you shouldn't think that awful things?" he timidly asks, looking at the hat in his hands.

Nene blushes and nods vigorously, unable to say anything.

Then the boy visibly gulps, raising his look to meet her eyes.

"I know you're in a difficult place right now and that you're emotionally hurt and confused, but I really like you, Yashiro, and I'm sorry if you feel overwhelmed because of all of the stress I'm putting you through. I don't expect you to return my feelings or to give me an answer right away. I want you to take your time to think about it and to recover from your heartbreak. I really want to do things right with you, even if you decide to be just friends. I don't want you to take a decision you'll regret or to rush things. You're very special to me and I just want what's best for you. "

Nene can't help but tear up a little, really touched by the ghost's words. She doesn't really know what to say, feeling too much at once.

But she knows that she really likes Hanako.

"I sure hope this is a real confession" she says as she leaps into his arms, making him laugh.

"It is" he smiles at her, then he leaves a kiss on her forehead.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a certain someone to torture" the boy grins pulling out his knife and making the most terrifying face Nene has ever witnessed.

"Tell me you're not planning to use that on Fuji-kun, please" she says pointing at the weapon.

".... Maybe?"

"Hanako!"

"Ok, ok, I won't torture him."

"Good"

"But maybe a little push down the stairs.."

At this point she just stares disappointed at him.

"So you don't want any kind of revenge?"

"No, I don't want to waste time on that jerk"

"Then we may have a problem…"

"What?"

"I told Kou about your date and he immediately went to that guy to beat him up"

"Kou WHAT?"

"Yeah.. I guess I'll go stop him, then" Hanako says as he disappears, leaving her a last kiss on her head.

Nene just stays there, staring at the spot where the boy disappeared with a blushing face and a storm of butterflies in her stomach.

And maybe there's still hope in her. Maybe she doesn't mind exposing her heart once again…

Because she has the feeling that this time, she will not regret it.

Also on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23304325

Hope you like it❤️

[katedrakeohd]

Cordonia 1885

[Masterlist]

Previously on Cordonia 1885 - After being rescued from the bloody prison of his hotel room, Drake has been taken to the safe haven of Mary's family home.

But how safe is he really?

Cast of Cordonian characters: Drake Walker, Bastien Lykel and Bloody Mary (OC)

____________________________

Series Notes / Warnings :

Major character death, blood, vampirism, graphic descriptions of corpses, angst, swearing, content of a sexual nature, animal death. -

(sorry folks this isn't a romantic comedy)

Word count: 2080

____________________________

- Chapter Four -

The stair treads creak under their feet as they go up. The smell of decay is thicker up here, and it makes Drake's eyes water. He was starting to suspect that there was a dead body, or bodies in the house. At the top of the stairs there are four doors, all ajar except for one.

Drake covers his mouth and nose with his bent elbow, muffling his voice.

“M – Mary? Seriously don't you smell that? Is there something or someone dead in this house? You said that your father died, but what happened to your mother?”

Mary doesn't answer at first and just leads Drake to a bedroom at the end of the hall, “Mother and I exchanged letters monthly while I was working for the Beaumonts, but two months ago her letters stopped. She had mentioned an illness, and doctor visits.”

“Were you able to come see her before she..passed?”

“Just once, and she had become so sick that she had taken to her bed to await her end.”

“Is she still here?”

“N..no,” she lied.

Before Drake can respond, Mary grabs him by the elbow and pulls him into her father's room.

The bedroom contains a large wooden bed, wash stand with basin and mirror, and a dresser. In the corner a coat rack is wearing a wool overcoat similar to Drake's. A pair of men's leather shoes sit on the floor at the base of the rack. A bar of shaving soap and a straight razor sit next to the wash basin. Mary lights the candles on the dresser, near the wash stand, as well as one on the windowsill.

Drake sits on the end of the bed and watches her prepare the room. She opens dresser drawers and shows him the contents, “Father was a tall man, but not too tall, and wasn't an overeater. His clothes should fit you.”

Drake looks around the room again, appreciating how neatly it's been kept. Mary takes off Drake's wool coat and hangs it on the rack next to her Father's. When she walks back over to stand in front of him, he notices the smeared dark stains on her undergarments for the first time. But none of the bloody areas were fresh, or spreading, so her clothes weren't hiding any wounds.

He looks down at the blood on his own hands, and clothing. “The blood all over the hotel mattress wasn't yours was it?”

Mary shakes her head slowly and steps over closer to unbutton his shirt. “Definitely not mine.”

Her fingers feel cool against his skin as she slides the shirt down off of his shoulders, letting it fall down his arms and pool around his waist.

“But..but I didn't find any cuts on me either.” He says nervously, as she unbuttons his trousers.

Mary puts her hand on his neck and brushes her thumb across the itchy welt below his ear, making him shiver and his skin pimple with goosebumps.

She leans in and kisses his mouth, continuing to rub gently at the spot on his neck. When he leans forward to kiss her back, she pulls back and then shifts her mouth to his ear, whispering, “I didn't cut you Drake. I bit you.”

Drake recoils at her cool breath on his skin, scrambling backward on the bed, his arms tangling in the sleeves of his shirt as it gets trapped beneath him.

“Y- you bit me? Hard enough to make me bleed!?”

Mary unties the ribbons at the bodice of her undershirt and then slides down the waistband of her underpants, letting her clothes drop to the floor. Drake watches her climb naked onto the bed after him, her eyes looking darker than they did before. But it's not passion he sees, but a hunger of a different kind. The mark on his neck starts to tingle and the itching in his groin flares to life when he sees her lick her lips.

Mary straddles his lap, and traps his forearms by his sides. Drake is shocked at how incredibly strong she is for someone so slightly built. He looks up at her with panic in his eyes as her lips spread into a sharp toothed smile. He sucks in a breath and his mouth drops open.

“Sssh, screaming won't help you one bit. There's nobody to hear you.”

“But..but..Bas..Bastien?” he stammers, twisting his shoulders up off the bed and trying to break free. “What in the hell are you?”

Mary releases his arms and strokes her fingers down the sides of his neck and along the contours of his shoulders and chest, smiling at the way he tries to swallow down his mixture of fear and desire. His eyes travel down her naked body, and he tries to wet his lips though his mouth has gone dry.

Mary tips her head back and laughs, “We're vampires, Drake.”

“You struggled too much the first time I bit your neck and it made me waste so much of your blood. And when I bit you here,” Mary rocks her hips against his groin, causing Drake to gasp at his body’s response. “You liked it so much you wouldn't stay still so I could finish what I started. You have a remarkable tolerance for alcohol, and I was expecting you to be more drunk while I fed from you.”

Drake is speechless as he struggled to understand what he was being told. His attempts to buck her off are halted by the viselike clamp of her thighs. She shakes her head and clucks her tongue to scold him.

“Struggling is just going to bruise your beautiful skin and exhaust you, and I want you to be awake for this.”

“Awake..for w-what?” he protests, as she leans forward and covers his body with hers.

“We want to make you one of us.” she purrs seductively, as she nuzzles his ear.

Laying chest to chest, Mary can feel his heart thumping against his ribs.

“Try to relax, Drake. Pretend we're just lovers cuddling after sex,” she whispers, turning his head to the side to expose his neck.

“I..I can't move. And this hardly feels like cuddling.” Drake whimpers as he feels her tongue touch his skin.

Close your eyes, and try to calm down. The faster your heart beats, the quicker you'll bleed out. I just want another taste of you. You're so damn delicious.

Drake blinks rapidly in surprise when he hears her soothing voice in his head. “How..how do you do that?” he whispers.

It's one of my gifts, now sssh. Just listen to the sound of my voice and relax a little. The hammering of your heart is deafening. Just breathe, and you might even enjoy this.

“Enjoy..wh- ,” but his words are cut off when he feels the pinch of her fangs and the suction of her lips against his skin.

Mmm, so delicious. Just breathe and relax. I want you docile, not dead.

Drake feels an overwhelming dizziness and fatigue numb his senses and limbs. It was like being heavily intoxicated and mildly aroused at the same time. When he tries to open his eyes he can't.

A sensuous moan resonates out of Mary's throat and Drake is transported back to a few hours ago and their romp in the hotel room. As he slips into unconsciousness he recalls mental flashes of soft perfumed skin and impossibly red lips being pressed against him. His heart skips and falters in its rhythm and his last thought is Mary..please stop.

“Mary, stop!” Bastien's voice booms out as his tall figure fills the doorway.

Sitting back, Mary wipes at the trickle of blood running down her chin and glares in Bastien's direction for the interruption. When Bastien takes a menacing lunge forward, meaning to grab for her, Mary leaps from Drake's unconscious body and scrambles over to the other side of the bed.

She makes no move to cover herself as she rushes around the corner and tries to push Bastien back out of the room.

He easily sidestepped her attack and spun around to catch her by the wrist before she can regain her balance and strike again.

“Stop it, you fool!” he warns, “I'm stronger than you and can snap you like a twig.”

Mary snarls at him, and tries to claw at his eyes, but he grabs her arm and forces her down onto the floor on her knees. He tightens his grip on her and crisscrosses her wrists up under her throat to subdue her. “I said stop!”

Mary looks up at him with anger and contempt in her eyes, but stops struggling.

“I want him for myself! Show me how to make him mine.” she wails.

Bastien shakes his head, “No, I told you to get him cleaned up and dressed, not to finish him off.”

Mary sags down onto the floor in defeat and Bastien lets her go. She turns away from his disapproving, piercing gaze and looks over to Drake's prone body on the bed.

Bastien grabs the sleep shirt hanging on the back of the bedroom door and tosses it at her. “Cover yourself for Christ's sake! He's still a mortal man and your nakedness is too much of a distraction. You were a decent chamber maid once, now do what I ask. Go prepare him a bath. I'll pick him out some clothes and then revive him, if it's not too late.”

Mary sighs, getting up from the floor and pulling the oversized sleepwear over her head. It was hardly as elegant as her own frilly undergarments, but at least she wouldn't be performing her chore naked.

“Are you forgetting that I was fired because of my poor housemaid skills?”

“No, you were fired because you were a mistress who couldn't keep her mouth shut.” Bastien snaps back, as he pours water from the pitcher into the wash basin. “Now, go. Before I get more angry.”

She turns to give Bastien a dirty look before she leaves, but his attention is already taken by rummaging through her father's dresser for clothing.

Bastien pulls a simple button down cotton shirt, underpants and a pair of wool trousers, along with a set of braces to hold them up. The clothes were in decent condition despite being of lower quality. He had to remind himself that this was the home of a commoner and not to expect a Noble’s finery. He lays out the clothes on the top of the dresser and then sighs with dismay at the horrible state of Drake's shaggy beard and hair. Both were matted with blood and in desperate need of a trim.

Thankfully there's a razor and soap handy because the poor bastard needs a shave.

Grasping Drake's ankles he drags him down to the end of the bed and removes his trousers.

My goodness, he's hairy everywhere it seems.

Balling up his smelly and worn out trousers into a ball he tosses them to the corner. Cocking his head to the side he smirks with disapproval at the bites Mary had made on the inside of his thigh.

Amateur. If her fangs had torn a bigger hole he would have bled out his whole supply in seconds. No wonder the hotel bed was in such a foul mess when we found him.

She had stupidly left fang Mark’s on his penis too. Poor guy must have been in a state of itchy, firey agony.

With a sigh, Bastien tucks his fingers in the junction of Drake's thigh and groin to test for a pulse. He's pleased to detect a faint throb of life under the skin amid the bloody mess of his pubic hair. Oh good, she didn't totally kill him…yet.

Pulling him upright, he relieves Drake of his shirt, and then repositions him on the bed so that he can give him a shave.

..

When Mary returns to tell Bastien that the bath was ready, she's pleased to see Drake with a clean face and a handsome moustache on his lip. His hair has also been dampened and combed into place.

“He's starting to look better,” she grins as she appreciates his nakedness. “Do we have to put clothes back on him?”

Bastien sighs, “Yes, Mary. Is the bath ready and the fire stoked?”

Mary nods.

“Good. Now while I carry him downstairs I want you to bring along his clothes.”

::

tagging:

@texaskitten30 @janezillow @hopefulmoonobject @dcbbw @pedudley @ravenpuff02 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @indiacater @kingliam2019 @walkerswhiskeygirl @bobasheebaby @emceesynonymroll @kimmiedoo5 @sirbeepsalot @xxrainbow-princessxx @losingbraincellseveryday

[goldenavenger02]

Peter Parker's Day Off

This story is for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange and my giftee is @avengersincamphalfbloodstardis so I hope you like it!

Before anyone draws comparisons between this and the fic @marvelous-writer posted a few weeks ago, we've already gotten it worked out, so go read her fic after mine!

Editing and cover credits go to @clover-roseee!

And now, on with the story!

Peter groaned as he woke up, and tried to force himself awake as Morgan jumped the end of his bed again. "I'm up, Morg, I'm up," he replied as rubbed his eyes, forcing himself to sit up. His body and head felt heavy, and he had that general sick feeling, so despite how much Morgan's excitement tended to rub off on him, it didn't this time. In fact, Peter wasn't even sure how he could be excited when his chest was tight and his nose was so stuffed up.

Morgan didn't seem to pick up on how he was feeling, though. "Come on, Petey!" she instead insisted, before hopping off his bed and running out of his room. "Daddy's making blueberry pancakes before we go to the zoo!"

The trip to the zoo had been planned for weeks, and Pepper had even taken a day off to come with (which was a rarity in itself). May had gotten held up at the hospital, too, so it was perfect timing that he stayed with the Starks for the first week of spring break; but while he really wanted to see Morgan lose her mind over lions, tigers, and birds, he still couldn't shake the sick feeling from his body.

"Come on, Petey! Daddy's making blueberry pancakes before we go to the zoo!" She insisted before running out of his room, singing about the trip.

Grabbing his bathrobe off of his closet door, Peter wrapped it around his shoulders and tried to regain some body heat before shuffling down the stairs. The smell of pancakes hit him as he went into the hall, and he knew immediately that his senses were in overdrive.

When he finally made it to the dining room, Morgan was going over some facts she had learned about lions for a school project and Pepper was looking at the news on her phone, but looked up when she saw Peter sit at the table. "Are you alright, sweetheart?" she asked, upon seeing his pale face, and the thin layer of sweat on his forehead.

Peter started to respond, but instead let out a harsh cough into his elbow. That was enough of a reason for Pepper to get up from the table in search of the thermometer. Meanwhile, Morgan got up from her chair and ran into the kitchen area. "Daddy!" she exclaimed, "Petey's sick!"

Flipping the last few pancakes on to the large serving plate, Tony cleaned his hands with a dry washcloth and turned the stove off. Then, once that was done, he turned his attention to Peter and, with Morgan tagging along behind him, made his way over. "See!" Morgan repeated. "He's sick!"

"Yeah, I definitely see what you're talking about." Tony ruffled Morgan's hair before placing a hand against Peter's forehead. "And that's definitely a fever." He sighed before looking down at his daughter. "Sorry, Morguna. Looks like the zoo is gonna have to wait for a few days."

"But we have to go, Daddy!" Morgan fought back. "Mommy took the day off and everything!" Just as it looked like that Tony would have to deal with a tantrum at eight thirty in the morning, Pepper came back in the room with the ear thermometer and gently inserted it into Peter's ear. "Mommy, we have to go to the zoo!"

"Morgan's right," Peter agreed, receiving an enthusiastic grin from her. "I mean, you did take the day off to go with her to the zoo…"

Pepper looked skeptical. "I don't know. I don't feel comfortable leaving you here by yourself."

"Then how about Mr. Stark stays with me?" Peter proposed, taking a moment to cough into his elbow. Pepper, in return, placed a hand on his back. "You guys can send us pictures, and it'll feel like we're right there with you."

Pepper looked to her husband. "Tony? Are you okay with this?" she asked, as the thermometer beeped. She took it out and sighed when the reading revealed Peter had a temperature of 101.8. "Staying here with Peter?"

"'Course. I've got the spider kid, you two go have fun," Tony insisted, before leaning forward and kissing his wife's cheek. "Like he said, just send us lots of photos. Maybe let Morgan feed a giraffe while you're there, too."

Pepper broke apart from the kiss, and went over to grab her tote bag with her sunglasses, camera and Morgan's change purse full of nickels and pennies. "Alright, try and have a good day," she said, after slipping her shoes on. "Feel better, Peter."

Morgan ran up and hugged Tony tightly, and did the same to Peter before heading outside to the car, with Pepper following closely behind. When the car pulled out of the driveway, Tony turned to the resident sick kid. "So, how does crashing on the couch and watching some Star Wars sound?"

"Can we watch something else? I'm regretting getting Morgan obsessed with it," Peter spoke as he stood up from the table, trying to force the sudden headache that was building behind his eyes.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you want," Tony insisted as Peter shuffled over to the couch and grabbed the remote. "We should probably get you some Tylenol, though."

Peter nodded, starting to scroll through Netflix. Since Morgan preferred Disney+, he knew he would probably find something he wasn't sick of on there. But his vision was going in in and out, and starting to get spotty, and he was fighting every bone in his body in order to stay awake.

Suddenly Tony appeared beside him, and Peter distantly wondered how he did it. "Here," he said, pouring three white tablets into Peter's right hand, and swapping the remote for a bottle of blue Gatorade with the other. "Take that, and go to bed, kid. I'll find something to watch, you look exhausted."

Dropping the pills into his mouth and washing it down with a swig of Gatorade, Peter wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his bathrobe before doing what he was told. Tony's taste in movies was often better than Morgan's or Pepper's anyway, so he let himself relax and, feeling a blanket being draped over him, allowed the music of whatever Tony had picked lull him to sleep.

•••

"So, what do you wanna see first?" Pepper asked her daughter, as the two climbed out of the car doors. They had spent a little over half an hour driving, and Pepper already had the online map on her phone all ready and set-up. Knowing her daughter, though, she'd probably want to see more of the cuddly animals first, before going to see the creepier ones.

"Hmm…" Morgan hummed and tilted her head as she thought. She definitely wanted to go see the lions, but she was also wondering if they had a penguin exhibit, and maybe a snake one, too. "I dont know! Can we go see the dolphins? Please?"

"Sure." Pepper smiled and gently grasped her daughter's hand in hers, before they made their way inside. "And then we'll go feed the giraffe, like your dad wanted to. Sound good?" She verbalized the plan, trying to make it stick in Morgan's head, but, in reality, she was just wanting to spend some much needed time with her daughter. It was always a rarity when she was able to take time off, and she wanted to make the most of it.

Morgan nodded, but the period of silence was broken by her stopping in front of the snake exhibit. "Mommy, look!" she shouted, bouncing on her heels giddily. "Can we look at these first? Please?"

"Of course." Pepper nodded, took her camera out of her bag, and watched as one of the exhibit employees, per Morgan's request, placed a boa constrictor around her shoulders. "Say cheese on three, sweetie!"

•••

When Peter woke up on the couch, he felt like he could barely breathe through his nose, and could feel the intensity of the pressure in his head. Then, sitting up, he glanced around the room, before trying to peer into the kitchen. "Mr. Stark?" he asked, the stuffiness having apparently spread to his voice with how nasally he sounded. "Are you here?"

"In the kitchen!" the stay at home dad called back. Sighing and flopping back on to the couch, Peter re-covered himself with the blanket Tony draped over him, before he heard a "Shit, that's hot!" and the man himself appeared in the doorway. "Okay," he announced, as he walked over to his sick kid, "I've got good news and bad news. Which do you want first?"

Peter smirked. "What's the bad news?"

"Bad news," Tony explained, as he set a plate of soggy charcoal-coloured toast on the table, "is that I burnt your toast, and put too much butter on; so, it's kinda ruined now, kid."

Peter chuckled, as he sat up and, despite how terrible the toast looked, took a bite from it. 'At least Tony tried,' he thought. "And the good news?" he asked.

"The good news is that I ordered soup for later—don't look at me like that!—and that I did manage to make sure your Gatorade stayed cold," Tony said, as he set the half-full Gatorade on the coffee table, right beside where the plate previously was. Then, he had taken a seat near the sick teen's feet and patted his knee. "But, it doesn't matter now. How're you feeling, Pete?"

Peter sat up a bit to place the soggy toast beside the Gatorade, and laid back down against his pillows. "My head still hurts," he muttered, trying to warm himself up as he buried himself beneath the blanket, "'nd I've been kinda feeling sick. There's no other medicine I can take, right?"

Tony shook his head. "'Fraid not, kiddo. And, even if there was, I don't wanna give you mixed medications and have to take you to a hospital, so it's not gonna happen."

Peter groaned.

"But, what I can do is let you see all the pictures Pepper sent me of Morgan." Tony smiled as he pulled out his phone, and swiped on over to his 'Messages' section. "There's even one of her holding a boa constrictor, if you wanna see it."

Peter shook his head, remembering his very bad experience with a snake from years ago. "I think I'll pass on that," he said, before sitting up and glancing over Tony's shoulder. "But is there one of her with a penguin? Or a giraffe?"

Tony nodded, as he passed the phone over, and adjusted the two of them, so Peter was leaning against his side, with his head on his chest. "Oh, yeah," he replied. "Third and fifth one in. My personal favourites, though, are the ones with the sloths and otters."

In response, Peter yawned, and, after scrolling through all the photos, gave the phone back to Tony. He was getting exhausted again, and assumed, as he buried his head into his mentor's chest, that Tony had moved on to watching the videos Pepper had sent him, so he shut his eyes and allowed Morgan's excited squeals to lull him back into a peaceful sleep.

•••

"Alright, honey," Pepper said, smiling, as she fished Morgan's change purse out of her tote bag, "you can pick one thing out from the gift shop, and then we're going to head home." She held her daughter's hand as they approached the small gift shop, located back at the entrance. She was thankful she hadn't lost her daughter when they were visiting the exhibits, but if there was one place where she would lose her, then it was definitely the gift shop.

Morgan took her change purse from her mother's hand, and looked up at her, pleadingly. "Can I get something for Petey, too?" she asked with her adorable, wide eyes. "He's sick and we can get something to make him feel better!"

"Nothing fragile," Pepper negotiated, "and nothing made of glass. Otherwise, you can go nuts and get whatever you want. Deal?" She held her hand up for a high five.

"Deal!" Morgan exclaimed excitedly, as she returned the high-five. Unfortunately, Morgan was five, and that meant she was still rather small, so the high-five ended up being one of those off-beat ones, where they missed each other and ended up mostly slapping the air instead. Pepper still smiled, though, and watched as Morgan made a B-line for the stuffed animals.

'That's a good idea,' she thought to herself. 'Peter would probably prefer cuddling one of those instead of a rubber snake, anyway.'

•••

"Daddy, Daddy, we're home!" Morgan announced, a little over forty-five minutes later, before she slipped off her shoes and bright yellow leather rainjacket at the door. Then, she had resumed running into the kitchen, where she wrapped her arms around her dad's legs. "Mommy and I saw penguins, and sloths, I got to hold a snake!"

Setting down the knife he was using to chop up the peppers and celery, Tony had then dried his hands with a washcloth, before turning and giving his full attention to his daughter. "That's great, Morguna," he replied, as he kneeled down to her level and planted a small kiss atop her head. "But you'll have to tell me everything when Peter wakes up, okay? He still doesn't feel so good, and he needs a lot of rest to get better."

"Okay!" Morgan agreed, happily, before she pulled a grey and white ovaloid object out of her little purse. "We got him a penguin!" She exclaimed, enthusiastically bouncing on her heels once more. "Do you think he'll like it? I hope he likes it!"

Tony nodded, as he ran his hand through his daughter's messy brown hair. "I'm sure he'll love it, Morguna."

"Now, go wash your hands, okay?" Pepper said, as she came up behind her daughter and gently nudged her towards the bathroom. In response, Morgan did as she was told, and Pepper took that chance to heave the groceries up on to the counter, and started putting them away. "Morgan insisted we get juice pops for Peter," she explained, as she opened the freezer and stuffed the box of popsicles inside. "How did things go at home today?"

"Pretty good. He's gotten a bit better since you guys left, but he told me he was feeling sick, so we'll have to keep an eye on him tonight."

"Alright." Pepper smiled and put up the last of the groceries before turning to her husband. "I'm gonna sit in there till dinner is ready." She planted a quick kiss against Tony's cheek before sitting in the armchair that was beside the couch Peter was asleep on, and started to go through some files on her laptop. Days off were always a rarity for her, so she wanted to transfer the photos to her phone, so she could look at them while she was at work.

She looked up when she heard a rustling noise, only to see Morgan come in with the stuffed penguin and put it under Peter's right arm before climbing on the couch and curling up next to him. Watching as Peter unconsciously wrapped his left arm around Morgan, Pepper smiled and waited until her daughter's eyes closed to take a picture.

She'd be thanked, later.

[fireflowersims]

Covid symptoms and how they developed + recovery (pt 2)

Sooo, truth be told, I probably spent too much time modding Skyrim SE than, ya know, resting, when my covid was at its peak. But hey, let's talk about symptoms and how I managed them.

So, one thing I forgot to mention, was that that Friday I had asked my mom to get me some nasal spray. Good thing I asked, because I'd make heavy use of it throughout the week. I got regular brine solution and xylometazoline. The latter can only be used for a week, but clears out the nostrils like crazy.

Okay, so my symptoms were as follows:

A rough, scratchy throat

Headaches

(occasional) fever

Sneezing

Burning eyes

Tiredness

Stuffy nose

Basically, a nasty cold. The thing that differentiated it from the flu for me, was the lack of dizziness or nausea. If I get the flu, I get dizzy and will probably throw up at least once. I never got those symptoms with covid. Honestly, I've had nastier flus*

*this does not mean that covid is the flu. I am vaccinated against the 'rona which gave me an advantage and covid still majorly sucked. Get vaccinated, yo. Covid ain't a flu. (Also, the flu I'm referring to hit me so hard I lost most of my strength thanks to being bedbound for a solid three days at least, so don't underestimate the flu either.)

But, let's talk symptom management. For my rough throat I drank TONS of hot tea. This helped keep my throat from getting rough. Also, staying hydrated is of the utmost importance, especially if you have covid. I also took the occasional spoon of medicinal thyme syrup to coat my throat. Whenever I'd get a headache, I would typically try to ignore it, but when it got too rough, I took a single 500mg paracetamol pill. For my nasal passages I would use xylometazoline for when it was feeling really stuffed and regular brine solution nasal spray when it wasn't. I also made sure to get enough sleep.

What was nastier than symptom management however, was minimizing the chances of infecting my roommates. For that, I was instructed to clean the kitchen and toilet after using it and to wipe down anything (door knobs, switches, etc) that I had touched. I also had to keep my trash separate and wash my hands often. I also kept my room ventilated. Going to the toilet involved washing my hands before going, then washing my hands after I did my business, then wiping down the toilet, wiping down the doorknobs, then throwing away the trash and washing my hands again in my own room. Cooking meant wearing a face mask and of course: much cleaning.

After about a week or so after I had developed my initial symptoms, I was finally symptom free! However, unfortunately shortly after that, I lost my sense of smell. Fortunately my taste remained and still is intact. But it was not fun. However, it has been steadily getting better again.

The first week after covid, I was definitely still busy "uitzieken" as we'd say in Dutch; riding out the sickness, taking it easy to recover. I was definitely feeling physically weak(er). And the laundry... Damn, everything had to be washed for a long time at 40C...

At the moment of writing, I have been covid free for a while and quite happy about it!

However, as it is, I currently sleep quite a bit more than I used to. I'm not sure if it's because of covid or the short days though. Physically, I can still function at about the same level as I was able to pre-covid, though it just tires me out a bit faster. And as I said; though I lost my sense of smell after covid had passed, I am now regaining it rapidly.

Gosh, you wouldn't believe how happy I was to smell a cup of coffee. It was heavenly to smell that black gold.

I don't believe I have long covid. If I still sleep and tire at this rate after the days start lengthening again, I'll start to worry. But for now, I'm happy to be allowed out again and blessed to have survived this with my sense of taste intact. Not all have that privilege. Another blessing was that to my knowledge, I did not infect anyone I was in contact with.

So, that was my covid experience. Not fun to experience, but perhaps illuminating to others. And definitely a story to tell.

Covid symptoms and how they developed + recovery (pt 1)

Heya folks, so.... After I caught the resident plague, I really haven't posted any updates about my health to tumblr yet, so let's resolve that.

The thing I'd like to start with is just how my symptoms progressed, as this might be useful to people experiencing similar things.

For background: I've been vaccinated fully with Pfizer. First shot in July, second in August. I have no underlying health issues.

It started on Tuesday evening, the ninth of November. I had just spent the evening at my folks watching a show and my throat was feeling kinda rough. So, I thought to myself "I must have eaten too many salty snacks. I should take the day off to hydrate tomorrow". So, I did just that. I alerted my boss that I wasn't feeling well and would stay home that day, practicing self care. However, at the end of the day, the roughness hadn't gone away yet.

Then Thursday came. It hadn't gone away yet and my eyes felt like how they feel when I'm anywhere near daffodils. You see, I'm allergic to those flowers and my typical reaction to that is burning eyes. I felt like I was constantly being exposed to daffodils. Indoor, outdoor, didn't matter. Just the constant feel of daffodils. By this time I had also started sneezing. That evening I went to the store for some groceries and bought some soothing thyme syrup while I was at it, since my throat was still acting up.

I don't know 100% when, but around this time, I remember being in the town center, holding a yummy drink, mouth mask on and sneezing. I thought to myself "geez, I'm glad I'm wearing a mask or those germs would've gone much farther"

On Friday I made a test appointment for the next day as the symptoms weren't going away.

I'm not 100% sure when I developed headaches, but I did. They were manageable with 500mg paracetamol.

Saturday I got swabbed. As my previous two experiences with the nose swab have been... Nasty in the past, I asked the guy at the test site to swab my left nostril instead of the right one which had been subjected to swab violence twice already. This turned out to be a great idea, as the discomfort went away much faster.

The next day, I saw I had received an email from the health services: my test results were in. I didn't log in to see the results, so imagine my surprise when a few hours later I got a phone call from an unknown number. "Hello, this is GGD Gelderland Midden, are you [real name]?". Immediate dread.

I had covid.

This got a lot longer than I thought, so I'll continue in pt 2 which wil probably be a reblog of this post.