#still going to avoid to the best of my ability the sugary drinks

[amassofhumanity]

Woo-Hoo!

I've lost 99 pounds in a year and a half!! Go me.

That's the highlight from today's doctor visit. The rest is inconsequential.

[dionysianchub]

Fatty liver anon here. Did they say why you have it specifically? Its very rarely caused by just being fat, it's usually health issues that can also make you gain weight. If it's alcohol related that's an obvious fix (harder in practice of course), if not there are a few different routes to go down

I'm 5'6 and 240lbs (gained 70lbs so far intentionally after gaining 35lbs from pcos, learning you can't just lose pcos weight with diet and exercise, and realising just being a feeder wasnt what I needed) and while they did say it can sometimes help to lose weight it's more about the pcos which caused insulin resistance and high cholesterol (for other people it can also be from diabetes, underactive thyroid, high blood pressure etc).

As I said I take inositol for the IR but I did also make a lot of lifestyle changes. I've had improvements whilst also lowering how many simple carbs I have and eating more complex carbs and fats instead (dairy isn't great for insulin resistance so I eat so many avocados, nuts and other plant oils as well as oily fish), taking those little cholesterol drinks containing plant sterols, and upping my fibre a lot with both oat bran and psyllium husk. I swim, go on walks, lift weights, and do some of Dr la thoma's YouTube functional bodyweight workout videos+stretches (being specific cause I do rate them for fat people, shes tiny but most are about functionality and ability over athleticism— We aren't in her mind but it's adaptable and useful) for general health/wellbeing and to hopefully keep the visceral fat % and liver fat lower as I gain. I also take milk thistle tablets because some studies show it's good for repairing and protecting the liver. I can't say what specifically has helped the most but I'm keeping it all up because it's working, you'll probably end up doing some experimenting. It sounds overwhelming written out like this but it really wasn't

They said I should try weight loss as well of course but I explained "it would be bad for my mental health so tell me what you'd tell a skinny person" and they dropped it. They tell me I'm obese every time I see them of course because I'm fatter every visit but accept it's not the sole or best treatment option. If you have an ED history they can be more understanding about avoiding WL. I'm personally willing to do anything except lose weight unless I get big enough that I can then lose the 5% recommended (visceral fat goes first, or so they say, and that's around what people can reliably keep off) and still feel good about my body.

One nurse tried to say something about me being on testosterone and only stopped when she realised the gel doesn't metabolise the same way, I'm sure you know what they can be like just don't be surprised if someone decides to blame T. Trans broken arm syndrome strikes again.

Sorry this is long and very ()()()(), I hope it's helpful enough to compensate.

This is wildly helpful! My doctor hasn't even called me since testing, this is just what I've seen from the results of the ultrasound and MRI, but I do know that at the time my liver values were evaluated they did discover I had an underactive thyroid. I've been placed on a synthetic thyroid hormone for the last month or so. Hopefully that helps? I also know that prior to my diagnosis I was eating a ton of sugary foods and carbs, so I've been trying to cut those and eat a more mindful diet. I'll look into the supplements and videos you mentioned as well! Thank you so so much for all your advice!! 💜💜💜

[coconutstars]

Right people at the wrong time p.IV

Part I | Part II | Part III 

Pairing: Stiles + reader   Prompt: Perhaps, we were the right people at the wrong time Summary: Reader and Stiles finally get to talk things out and figure out if they are, finally, the right people at the right time (of course they are, I’m not cruel) A/N: HELLO, HOLA, BONJOUR. This is it. This is the thrilling conclusion. It’s long, it’s cute and every chic-lit lovers dream. Fair warning, it’s not proofed at all so be ready for some mess- ups here and there. I did my best. Hope y’all aren’t too disappointed! Thank you for all the kind comments on the other parts, they’ve warmed my heart so much. Anywho, enjoy my lovely friends.  ♡

[ :: ]

“So… are we just not going to talk about you and Stiles?” Kira was laying on your bed, flat on her stomach, supporting herself on her elbows. Her eyes were practically twinkling with curiosity. It was the end of your first week and the two of you were cooped up in your room, eating chips straight out of the bag with a sappy soundtrack playing in the background. With a sigh, you lifted your gaze from the toenail you were painting. You could tell the curiosity as to why Stiles and you had been avoiding each other like the plague was eating Kira alive.

“It’s…” you began, searching for the right words to describe the situation. You really wanted to tell Kira about Stiles but where would you even begin? It wasn’t as simple as just ‘we had a fight two years ago’. There was so much more to it. Explaining it all would take time, and a lot of energy. It would mean having to tap into old feelings, insecurities and heartaches and you just weren’t sure you could deal with that right now. “Complicated?” Kira asked, interrupting your train of thought. Your lips curved into a soft smile. “Something like that”   Kira let out a breath and rolled over on her back. “Yeah, I’d know a thing or two about that” “Oh?” you questioned, pulling your knees up to your chest. “It’s Scott” she exhaled loudly. “I don’t really know where we stand” You nodded thoughtfully. You’d sensed that there was something between Kira and Scott. They’d get… mushy when they were around each other. Kira would get all flushed and Scott’s gaze would always linger just a little too long in her direction. “I mean not that we’re…we’re not dating or anything, or I mean, I don’t know if we are… it’s all confusing and when we’re talking” Kira stammered. “Hey” you interrupted calmly “Don’t worry, I get it” Kira let out a breath of relief and rolled over on her stomach again. Her eyes met yours and she curved her lips into at silent conclusion. “Complicated” You nodded in conformation, your smile mimicking hers. “Complicated” [ :: ]

“Uh… Apparently there’s a party going on” Kira exclaimed in the middle of the romcom you were watching. She angled her phone towards you so you could read the words on the illuminated screen.

From: Scott Received 9.42 pm. Hey I know it’s late but there’s a party at Danny’s. You coming?

You lifted you gaze to meet Kira’s. “You wanna…go?” she questioned slowly, biting down on her lip. You knew she wanted to; her body language practically scream it. You suspected it had something to do with the opportunity to be close to Scott. “Uh...” you made an indifferent gesture with your hand. “yeah sure” you said with a pressed smile. Truth was you’d rather stay home. You wouldn’t really know anyone at the party except for Kira and you really didn’t want to be third wheeling it with her and Scott, especially if they were trying to figure out their “are we or aren’t we” situation. So while they did that, you’d probably end up squeezed in on a couch between some passed out kid and a couple making out. Great. Kira must have sensed your unwillingness because she suddenly got up on her knees. “I mean-“ her voice was anxious “we don’t have to! Seriously! I love what we’re doing…” she stressed. You felt bad. If Kira had the chance to… evolve or clarify her feelings for Scott, you didn’t want to be the one to stand in her way. “Kira” you began with a calm smile. “It’s fine, I want to go” Her entire face lit up in a smile. “Really!? Cool” she jumped off the bed and started pacing like she didn’t know where to start or what to do. “Wait” she suddenly said, her smile fading. “I don’t really…”. She looked down at her leggings and zipped hoodie. “Don’t worry” you grinned “I got you”

[ :: ]

Stiles POV

It was crazy how often he thought of her. He wanted to reach out but didn’t know how. It wasn’t as simple as just walking up to her and going ‘hey sorry for being a dick two years ago’. He needed to show her he meant it but how was he supposed to do that when he could barely even look at her without the guilt taking over. Hell, just being near her fucked him up. His hands would get sweaty, his pulse would rise, and his ability to get out a coherent sentence would momentarily non-exist.

Once again, Stiles eyes searched the crowded room hoping to catch even a glimpse of Y/N, but she was nowhere to be seen. All he could see was a bunch of kids playing beer bong over a trashed kitchen table, a guy from the team puking in a corner while his friend filmed it with their phones and a girl from English making out with a guy who wasn’t her boyfriend.

“She left ten minutes ago” a familiar voice declared. Scott appeared beside him, red solo cup in hand. Stiles considered playing dumb but knew there was no point. Scott was his best friend and brother; he didn’t have to be inside his head to know what he was thinking. Besides, he’d been picking up on his emotions all week. “I’m not sure she wants to talk to me” Stiles answered truthfully “Wouldn’t be so sure of it, man” Stiles let out a deep sigh. “I wouldn’t even know what to say” Scott curved his lips into a crooked grin.

“Then figure it out”

[ .. ]

Y/N POV You’d convinced Kira to stay at the party. Not that it took a lot of effort. Scott and her had been talking non-stop ever since the two of you walked through the door. You on the other hand had been hit on by some drunk guy in a Hawaii shirt, offered molly from a girl who looked like she went to Sunday school and had your favorite top ruined by a freshman with shaky hands. He’d apologized and offered to have it dry-cleaned but everyone knew beer stains were textile hell, even for professionals.

Slipping into a pair of printed sweat shorts and a hoodie, you tied your hair into a messy bun and made your way to the kitchen. You hadn’t eaten anything besides the bag of chips you’d shared with Kira. You’d planned on ordering pizza but got to busy getting ready for the party.

Raiding through the fridge you realized pretty quickly your parents hadn’t stocked the fridge before leaving for their “healing retreat” this weekend. It was some stupid trip their therapist had advised them to take every month to “heal the hole” in their marriage.

Closing the fridge, you grabbed a box of cereal with way too much sugar and made your way over to the couch. Taking a few seconds to flip through the different titles on Netflix, you ultimately settled on some new original series and watched passively while digging your hand into the box.

Getting back up, you were just about to grab something to drink when there was a knock on the door.

Shit.

Shit

Shit.

What the hell was Stiles doing here?

Full of panic, you stood in the hallway like a moron, chewing the mouth full of sugary flakes you’d stuffed your face with only seconds earlier. Why. WHY did he have to show up the one night you’d chosen to wear the shorts with fricken mermaids and seashells on them!? For a moment you considered pretending not to be home but realized pretty quickly that you couldn’t. The lights were on and your car was in the driveway. Besides, a part of you was kind of curious as to why he was at you house 11 p.m. on a Friday night when there was a party going on. 

Running your hand over your mouth, you sure to get rid of any crumbs or powdered sugar before opening the door.

“Y/N!” Stiles exclaimed, almost surprised. He’d been running a hand anxiously through his hair but moved it towards you when you appeared in the doorway. “You’re…You’re here” You furrowed your brow; you were determined to act cool even though there was a storm of emotions raging inside you. “Yeah… I kind of live here” you said, going to fold your arms over your chest only to realize you were still holding the cereal box in your hand. Sigh. For once. Could someone give you a goddamn break

Stiles shifted his gaze and started flexing and unflexing his hands. “yeah, no, course” he cleared his throat. There was a moment of silence between you.

“so, you’re uh… probably wondering why I am here” Stiles said with a nervous chuckle. You nodded slightly; lips pressed together. You still couldn’t hold his gaze for more than a few seconds.

Stiles cleared his throat again. Seems his plan of action only stretched as far as showing up at your house. “Yeah, so I came to say that…are you… eating that out of the box?” Stiles asked, nodding towards the cereal. “Yeah, so?” you asked defensively. “It’s dry” “I happen to not like milk” Stiles furrowed his brow. “What? You used to love milk? You literally drank like half a gallon when Melissa baked those fudge cookies for Scotts twelfth birthday” You remembered that party. You and Stiles were the only ones that came.

“Please, it was hardly half a gallon and I only drank it” you began, suddenly lowering your tone to a whisper “because those cookies were dry” You were acting as if Melissa was around the corner at risk of hearing you bash her baking skills.

“They were well-baked” Stiles whispered back. “More like burnt. They were literally black Stiles” For a moment it was like the two of you were kids again, sitting in Stiles room, discussing which superhero was the strongest. Stiles eyes searched yours and for the first time since seeing each other again, none of you looked away. “I’m sorry” Stiles mumbled softly. It was strange, and insanely cliché, but something inside you seemed to happen when he uttered those words. You wouldn’t call it heal but it was definitely along those lines.

“For what?”

The muscles in Stile’s jaw flexed. “everything” You looked down for a moment. Stile’s voice was low, and you could tell by his tone that he was being genuine. “I didn’t mean it” he continued. “I was mad, and…” he threw up a hand before letting it fall again “I snapped. I shouldn’t have but I did. But none of it meant anything”. “It’s fine, I get it. I shouldn’t have said those things about Lydia..especially since the two of actually....” For a moment it looked like Stiles had absolutely no idea what you were talking about. “Oh” he said as the realization hit. “Oh no, no me and Lydia aren’t... we’re friends. No, you were right about us” He paused for a moment. “My feelings, what I felt for Lydia...It wasn’t-” he searched for the right words. “Real. I made this, I had this idea of who she, of who I...” he shook his head. “anyway it doesn’t matter. What does though is that I never should have said the things I did. I ruined everything and...” He looked at you with such an intensity you wanted to look away but forced yourself not to. 

“I’m sorry” You leaned your body against the doorframe. You hadn’t realized how much you’d craved an apology until you got one. Suddenly it was like your hurt and anger didn’t matter as much as it used to. Perhaps it was the raging crush or mere wishful thinking, but you believed him. Believed him when he said he hadn’t mean it. A part of you must have always known, or at least hoped, that your friendship had been to real to not have meant something to him.

Your tone was low and soft. “It’s okay”

Stiles shook his head. “No, it’s not. But I’m going to make it up to you. I’ll do...”

You had a feeling the sentence was going to end with something along the lines of ‘I’ll do anything to fix our friendship’ or something equally as cheesy and you had to stop him. Not because it would be awkward as hell but because he needed to know you still had a crush on him and that being friends probably wasn’t the right way to go. You wish you could handle a friendship, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t be around with him without being with him. Your heart ached for him and knowing he didn’t want you in the same way you wanted him made it impossible to be near him. 

“Stiles…” you began, creasing your forehead. “I don’t think we can be friends” Your words clearly took him by surprise. “What? Why? Is it because?... I mean is it because of what I said? I swear, I really didn’t…” “It’s because I’m still love with you” you blurted. There was a moment of instant regret and you could feel every fiber of your body wanting to slam the door in his face, dive into bed and hide under the covers for the next few years.

Stiles stood there looking at you for what felt like hours. You sucked in a breath, feeling the panic in your chest “So… yeah that’s why and…”. Warm hands found their way to your cheeks and before you had a chance to finish your sentence, Stiles had pulled you in and pressed his lips to yours. It took a few seconds but when you were finally able to wrap your head around what was happening, a rush of ecstasy ran through you and you eagerly kissed him back. 

“Stiles” you whispered after a while. You didn’t want to end the kiss but knew you had to. Stiles, however seemed to have other plans and started trailing his lips down your jaw down to your neck. 

“Stiles, I’m literally standing on my front porch, dressed in mermaid shorts, holding a box of Frosties”

With a laugh Stiles pulled back. “Yeah, I meant to comment on those mermaids” he said. Rolling your eyes, you turned around to walk back into the house.   Stiles arms instantly found their way to your waist and he pressed you to him as he walked behind you. “What? I was going to say there are very fashional” “It’s fashionable, and I know” you said, not being able to hold back your smile. It was insane.

Seems like the two of you were finally the right people at the right time. 

Taglist: @loulouloueh

[uwua3]

i stumbled across your blog and i adore your writing!! if it’s not too much to ask, can i get some fluffy cafe date hcs w/ kazu?

YES!!!!!!!!! kazunari Best Boy ever ♡_♡ but thank you so much for the support!!! i hope you’ll adore this piece as well~

summary: you’re kazunari’s greatest gift of them all this christmas

author’s note: i know it’s summer, but this is a christmas! kazunari who is spontaneous and loves the holiday spirit ♡ i miss christmas so much even though i don’t celebrate. enjoy the puns~

word count: 1,771

music: chocolady – akdong musicians (akmu)

i like you a latte!

🌻🎨 miyoshi kazunari

kazunari regretted procrastinating on his big final project of the school year before winter break

he couldn’t help it! he said he’d start soon, but scrolling through his entire timeline took hours! liking posts and making his own creative trends was basically a requirement in his career as a social media influencer!

one thing led to another, and by the time kazunari looked up from his screen, he was surrounded by supplies and only less than half a week to finish a project he got assigned two months ago

no need to panic, just got to do everything right! kazunari went pale like the snowflakes outside and groaned, already stressed as he rubbed his face. this was not going to end well at all... he would need to pull all–nighters just to pass!

kazu⭐️ posted an update! : gonna be offline for a bit~ ♪ don’t miss me too much!!! rip my procastination (^з^)-☆

just a hour after he posted his stresses to the internet, his ears perked up at the custom ring tone he set for you blaring through his room. he took the phone out of his apron pocket and put it to his ear, still mapping out his design as he tried to hide his tiredness

(he hated worrying you, he’d rather have your attention when he was at his best over his exhausted, procrastinative state)

“yolo~! what’s up?” kazunari loudly asked, affectionately calling out your pet name as you laughed on the other end. kazunari could hear you put something on and the jingle of keys. coat? keys? where were you going at this time of night? kazunari pouted, looking at his work, he wished he could go out, too!

kazunari glanced out at his window, seeing it was dark outside. he was about to ask what you were doing before he heard your door close, his facetime screen popped up as he quickly pressed accept, wanting to see your face to motivate him to make some progress

you were walking down your sidewalk in the cold, wearing clothes that were too put–together at this time of night. your cheeks and nose were red from the frost as you grinned at him with all the energy in the world

“i saw your post! i know you’re tired, come on, let’s go get coffee!” you offered, and kazunari felt all his energy come back as he immediately nodded without considering staying behind to focus on his work. he needed you, his energy boost!

“whoa~ why are you so cute?! you know i love coffee! (and you)” kazunari complimented, pushing himself up and heard the crack of his bones. his neck was sore and his clothes were already stained, but he just wanted to see you as he shoved his feet in his shoes and left the studio he was renting

nothing could get between kazunari and his much needed picker–upper (you and caffeine, of course)!

you guys didn’t even have to say which café it was, you two went to the same place as always. it was the 24/7 café that felt like it always stuck in the holiday spirit. the colorful lights were up, there was a jukebox playing christmas classics, and kazunari felt like he was home when he stepped into the warm atmostphere

(like the social butterfly he was, kazunari animatedly exclaimed his greetings and held a small–talk conversation with the exhausted barista at the register. how he remembered the barista’s name was beyond him, and the employee just tried to stay awake as he moved to the back to take a nap. kazunari shrugged, you can’t win everybody, he’ll just try again at a better time)

when kazunari saw you at your usual table by the window with his favorite order and cookies, kazunari rushed over and pulled you into a hug, giving you a big kiss like always did when he wanted to express how much he loved you but couldn’t do it in words

you two were the only ones in the café since it was so late. chocolady by akmu was over the radio this time as the guitar strum made kazunari feel his worries melt away

how could he be stressed when his partner and favorite foods were right in front of him? kazunari slid into the seat next to you, wanting to be as close as possible as he laid his head on your shoulder with a sigh

(it was rare for him to be so clingy without wanting to be the big spoon, so it was nice to have your best boy in your arms because he wanted your love & support)

he was so tired but you always let him rest, it was comforting to know you were here with him and knew coffee would fix him right away

“thank you~ you know i love you, right?” kazunari hummed, taking your hand as he sipped his coffee with the other. it was sugary sweet, just how he liked it. this time, there was peppermint to signify the upcoming holidays

“words cannot espresso how much you bean to me! we’re seriously the perfect blend~” kazunari joked, holding up his marshmallow cup like it was a toast when you two were the only one awake at this hour

you laughed again, patting his head and gently massaging his temples as kazunari cuddled into your side. you always knew how to make him feel better, you were his caffeine dose of the day but like, everyday

“i love you too, kazu. even if your coffee puns are terrible (hey! kazunari took offense), school must be hard on you if you had to go offline for a while!” you comforted him as he nodded, closing his eyes when you pressed a kiss to his forehead. he loved you so much, every act of affection felt like an energy boost even though he felt sleepy in the dim lighting

“s’ my fault anyways, i was busy online.” kazunari murmured, trying to keep his eyes open but your body was so warm. he was in his pajamas too since he didn’t change, and it felt like he was cuddling you back in bed. this was tortue! how could he stay awake when you were super adorable like this?!

kazunari blinked, pushing himself off you as he stood up to stretch, appreciating the quiet music and the stillness of the city at night. suddenly, the song faded and shifted into a christmas song he knew you loved. when you were about to mention it, kazunari placed his drink down and held his hand out with a flourish of a bow

“m’lady~ you are brew–ti–ful, where have you bean all my life?” kazunari asked as you took his hand without a doubt and let him whisk you to your feet. you giggled, trying to not be so loud as you two slow–danced in the public café. anyone walking could see you two dancing through the window, any of the employees could have walked out, but it felt like you two were the only people in the world

you rarely got to witness a tired, more mellow kazunari (even though this meant he was more prone to make insufferable puns). so when you got to see his quiet, more vulnerable side, you always enjoyed his contemplative nature and ability to make anything a special memory. he was tired, but his smile was wide as he attempted to sing along to the lyrics

(he was off–tune on purpose, but you thought you fell in love all over again at the sight of his paint–stained pj’s and his blonde hair illuminated by the warm yellow lighting)

“kazu, stop!” you tried to pull away to avoid being too public with your pda, but he whined as he held you closer, swaying back and forth

“i like dancing with you,” kazunari said, pretending to brush a lock of your hair behind your ear before he put his foot behind your heel, causing you to fall back as he held you in a dip. “do i sweep you off your feet, or do i keep you... grounded?”

kazunari winked and you couldn’t help but laugh at his spontaneous quirks, wanting to retort with something just as punny before you looked past his face and noticed something hanging from the ceiling. oh, mistletoe

without warning, you leaned forward and caught him in a kiss, surprising him to the point where he almost let you go (you would’ve absolutely pushed him out into the snow to freeze forever). but, kazunari quickly tightened his grip as he kissed you back like it was the first

(that was one of your favorite things about kazunari. how it felt like you would never get bored and how his love was new everyday)

he tasted like the mocha peppermint latte you ordered for him and the chocolate cookie he just ate. he was sweet like christmas and all things nice, like he came straight out of a gingerbread house

when you two seperated due to the very awkward cough of the underpaid employee at the front desk, you laughed with no shame as kazunari casually apologized with his instant charisma (he even addressed the barista by name, how’d he even know?)

you two took your time to leave, returning back to your seats to talk more about your plans for the holidays and what to do next before you headed out into the cold

kazunari tossed his empty cup into the trash, noticing the label written as he turned towards you, practically glowing underneath the christmas lights decorating the sidewalk

before you could even say anything, kazunari gave you a peck on the lips and smiled

“thank you, really,”

kazunari pressed another quick kiss even though your face was red (and not just from the winter air)

“i like you a latte, hot stuff! ♪”

(you definitely pushed him into the snow this time)

(you had to give him your jacket when his pajamas were all soaking wet)

because of your coffee date, kazunari always came to the café after school to get his quick dose of nostalgic memories with the same peppermint mocha latte as always

(he always posted a pic, tagging you and affectionately tagging it with every heart emoji to show he was thinking of you)

(he’d remember how amazing you looked when you danced with him, and officially deemed christmas the best holiday ever)

kazunari managed to pass his project in on time and made it to winter break! after all, how could he spend christmas with you if he failed his classes?

[lambourngb]

Duty of Care and /or Gravedigger’s Union

I did Grave Dancer’s Union - a nod to my 90s love of Soul Asylum here.

Duty of Care was another torture Michael fic- I wrote it pre-season 2, when I thought the love triangle was going in a particular way. I don’t know if there’s still an appetite to season 1 au stories? There’s some season 1 characterization of Alex ahead, particularly in regards to Jesse.

Here’s what I had - some of which already appeared here before Last Year’s Wishes ate my brain.

****

“Can’t believe Maria is still wearing the pendant of alien poison around her neck while she dates your alien ass, Guerin..” Kyle commented watching the decay values multiply as Liz titrated pollen into the samples.  

The current theory on alien resurrection, and it said a lot about his life that he had competing theories on alien-involved resurrection, was that their ability to manipulate energy changed based on their needed life skills at the time of adolescence. Michael had been separated from his siblings young, and needed to develop defensive skills. The defiant and pained look on his face when he explained stopping an item being hurled at his head at the age of 7 was a needed survival tactic courtesy of foster homes he had passed through kept Kyle from questioning any further.

Isobel had through her mother Ann’s never-ending dinner parties and charity benefits, found comfort in seeing and knowing what was meant under the sugary sweet words of adults around her. Being a small child paraded around adults who were charmed by her blonde hair and blue eyes meant she had the most exposure to social events while Max hid in his books. 

Finally Max had anointed himself as a fixer early on in their life. He had taken responsibility for Michael being left behind, and had tasked himself to protect his sister afterward. The defensive use of healing fit with his offensive ability to kill in the service of keeping those he loved safe. 

At the most basic level, it was all energy from synaptic responses in brain waves to manipulating molecules to move or stop an object. How a pollen interrupted that energy use could theoretically solve the problem of how to jump start an ability.

“You think you might get around to telling her the big secret anytime soon?”

The mask over his mouth and face did little to block the glare Michael shot at him. “Shut up Valenti.” 

“I don’t see what the big deal is. It’s Maria. She is a card carrying member of the ACLU and the Nature Conservatory. I had to bail her out of jail last year during an ICE protest. She’s not going to turn you over to the government.” 

“Kyle!” Liz scolded, “We talked about this. Agency. It’s up to Isobel and Michael who knows. I already broke that with you.”

Michael ran a gloved figure over the counter absently. “I hate secrets, okay. This isn’t any fun for me, especially considering how many people already know. I went from having just Max and Isobel, to basically the whole graduating class of New Roswell High in on it. A lot of loose lips.”

The habit of 20 years of paranoid silence was probably a lot to try and break with a new relationship if that was the basis of it. There was a good amount of slack that Kyle could extend to Michael, including trying to be understanding when he started up with Alex’s best friend in the wake of Max’s death, but exclusion of Maria from the secret felt wrong to him.

He couldn’t fathom the reasoning behind lying to someone that he wanted to be in a relationship with, and he had a feeling that it wasn’t because of worries that she would tell someone about the aliens living in Roswell. While he couldn’t outright call Michael an asshole on Alex’s behalf, he could poke and prod him when the opportunity surfaced.

“You should look at this way Guerin, that larger circle means if something does happen, you’ve got more back up than just Isobel, with Max being out of commission.”

“Oh yeah, so if the government disappears me to a black site, you’re going to ride to my rescue?”

“Yes.” Kyle replied seriously. “I wouldn’t be alone either.” The name Alex Manes went unsaid, but from the brief wince on Michael’s face, he knew exactly who was being referred to obliquely. Scored hit again.

“Well as fun as this discussion is, I’m going to take off. Iz and I have practice plans.” Michael slipped his hat on, and tucked the stool away. “Liz, call me if you have a breakthrough on nullifying this stuff. For a rare flower, there sure was a lot of it stockpiled in Noah’s cave.”

“Sure thing, Mikey.” 

“Valenti, make sure she goes home to sleep and eat at some point. I don’t want to have to put her in a pod next.” He ducked out of reach of her hand, laughing at the offended look she sent his way. 

“Far be it for me to agree with him, but he’s right. You’ve been burning the candle at both ends and the middle between rebuilding your lab, researching Max’s healing power, studying this pollen, not to mention working at the diner. We should make time for something else, like a drink or a movie. Recharge.” The past month since Max’s ‘death’ brought back the manic energy burst from solving the issues with the depowering serum. From one catastrophe to another, it was barely time to recover before the next happened.

“I know, I just. I need to stay busy. It’s so quiet without him.” Liz stretched and started to tuck her last slide away into the cooler. “But I think I am done today, if I work anymore, I’ll just be making mistakes.”

Kyle slipped on his coat and held the door. “Not that I don’t believe you leaving on your own volition, but let me walk you out.”

“Lucky for you, I’m too tired to be offended.”

Kyle kept his hand on her back gently steering her through the hallways. The third shift was on at the hospital, and he winced to think about his own upcoming shift at noon tomorrow. Balancing football, his pre-med studies and his social life in Michigan taught him valuable life skills in working on short sleep, but even the hours of residency had no competition on his current life of alien lab work and tracking down government funding of a black ops prison project with Alex. When he mentioned a night off, he wasn’t only including Liz in that need.

Inhaling the cool night air, he calculated if he made it home, heated up a meal, and fell asleep promptly there was the opportunity for 6 good hours of sleep before meeting up at the bunker to check in on the data mining project Alex was running. 

“You know, you should go a little easier on Michael.”

“I thought everyone in this town was in love with Max Evans, but apparently it’s Guerin.” Kyle retorted sarcastically. 

Liz bit her lip at the mention of Max before sighing softly. “I’m serious, Kyle. He’s really messed up right now. I was actually shocked he was somewhat sober tonight.”

“I’m not going to be petty here Liz, and mention the obvious that we are all really messed up right now. I get where you’re coming from about their need for secrecy, but Maria really deserves better. I’m not her best friend like you are and Alex was, but I’ve been here in this town with her. She was there for me after my dad died, and she supported my mom’s election for sheriff. With Mimi getting worse, she deserves to have someone to count on, not someone who is lying to her, and by extension, making all of us lie to her as well.”

“Alex was? Past tense?”

He arched his eyebrow in disbelief, “I guess I am going to be petty tonight, but seriously Liz? Have you talked to Alex lately? Every time Maria comes up in conversation he puts his best ‘Baghdad was a little warm and I was just doing a job’ face on and repeats to anyone listening how happy he is for them. Guerin messed him up, and worse, took away from him one of the few people he lets himself drop that soldier bullshit front he has.”

Liz sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I know the history with Michael is a little complicated, but we don’t always get to choose who we fall for and who we don’t. Love is messy. It doesn’t color inside the lines and follow any of the rules.”

“Maybe you’re right about that, and maybe there’s no avoiding the heartache. I do believe though that you can choose whether or not to be a dick about things, and Guerin not telling Maria is a dick move and it’s got consequences.” Kyle unlocked his car, and opened the passenger side with a gesture. “Our sister doesn’t have many friends, and he’s robbing her of one right now. Rosa lost ten years because of aliens, don’t you think that’s enough loss for all of us?”

“Do you know how annoying you are when you’re right? I’ll talk to Michael, better yet, I’ll talk to Isobel about letting Maria in on the secret.”

He slid into the driver’s seat, smiling across to her. “Tomorrow. Tonight, what’s left of it, is for sleeping.” He turned the ignition, and stopped,  as the headlights came up illuminating the familiar green Chevy sitting across the lot from them. “That’s Guerin’s truck.”

“He left before we did, what’s it still doing here?” Liz ducked out of the passenger seat and ran toward the truck without waiting for an answer. Kyle swore softly, untangling his hand from the ignition to follow her. The truck looked undisturbed, no sign of the occupant. Liz reached for the driver’s side door, testing it, and gasped as the door swung open. The ever present black hat slipped off the dash into the floorboards.

There were three things Michael prized above all others, his truck, his cowboy hat, and his sister. To leave two out of three unprotected was highly out of character for him. Kyle turned around the parking lot, scanning for signs of him. 

“Kyle, look,” Liz grabbed his arm and pulled him down toward the wheel well of the truck. Gleaming silver in the light , tucked on top of the tire tread, was a syringe needle with a depressed plunger.

“That’s not good.”

She stuffed her hand into her pocket and withdrew a spare latex glove to wrap around her fingers as she lifted the syringe from the tire.  She peered closely at the vial, a sickly yellow liquid film thinly coated the inside. “I think someone took him, and without testing it, I’m guessing this is some sort of knock out drug based on the pollen.”

Kyle reached for his phone, mentally saying goodbye to the idea of sleep anytime soon. “I’ll call Alex, you call Isobel. And I don’t know, I guess call my mom? I mean, we usually call the police when someone gets abducted.”

Liz thinned her lips, holding the needle with one hand as she dug out her phone with the other. “I don’t think you can call the cops on the government, which I’m guessing that’s what we are dealing with since they knew how to knock out Michael.”

The government, or more specially it was probably someone related to Project Shepherd. Kyle sighed, holding his phone to his ear. It rang once, before he heard, “What’s wrong?”

He pulled the phone away from his ear to make sure he had called Alex and not the psychic alien sister, “How did you know something was wrong?”

“You’ve called me twice in the last three months, once to tell me you put my dad in a coma and once to tell me about Max. You’re a texter, even though I explained it’s easier to keep things secret if you call. So again, what’s wrong?”

Kyle slowly walked back toward the hospital. He should have volunteered to call Isobel, because this was not going to be easy. “It’s Guerin.”

“Is he okay?” 

“We don’t know. We think someone took him. Liz and I found his truck at the hospital, unlocked. It looks like he got jumped by someone who knows how to incapicitate him.”

“I’ll be there in 20 minutes.” 

Kyle wasn’t surprised to see the call disconnected. It was a forty minute drive from the cabin to the hospital if someone followed the speed limits. 

*** 

“It’s Guerin.”

Alex was somewhat aware that he must have replied. He was in his SUV and away from the bunker, before he’d registered that the call had ended. He could only be thankful that today had been a ‘pull day’, rather than a ‘push day.’

Alex could divide his days into two motivations, he either wanted to be as far from town and the chance of running into someone he knew (Michael) or he wanted to be close in case something happened that he could help fix (for Michael). The cabin was isolated enough that only Kyle made the trip from Roswell, but not in recent memory with the pace of lab work and hospital hours. Alex could comfortably avoid reality with his laptop until the second feeling took hold. The Project Shepherd bunker was an easier location to reach Isobel or Liz from when the inviatble call for assisting an intoxicated Michael came. 

Seeing Maria meant seeing Michael in the evening hours, and it was strange to resort to in his post-service life the habit of a decade before; lying and hiding himself in every interaction. His calendar had a weekly reminder to join Liz and Maria at the Wild Pony for a beer, usually scheduled early enough that Michael was still at Sanders working, but late enough that the automated work emergency text to his phone could reliably give him cover for an exit. 

Psychic as she was, Maria always let him go with a pained but relieved look. It wasn’t her fault that he was still in love with Michael. It wasn’t her fault that Michael wasn’t in love with him. Neither he nor Maria had so many friends that they could afford to lose one, but neither was fooling the other that the relationship hadn’t changed in the aftermath of her dating Michael. 

This wasn’t his first go around with unrequited love. 

He’d survived Brendon Urie, and he wasn’t ashamed to have been a sixteen year old pouring over fan meet and greets on livejournal before hitting the road with Rosa to see Panic at the Disco in Albuquerque just after school let for the summer. He might have mapped out Los Angeles coffee shops to busk at after he turned legal and could escape west to be a musician, coffee shops close to Silver Lakes and Encino neighborhoods to be organically discovered by his crush.

He had survived his fourteen year old obsession with Kyle, that lasted until it was safer to love unattainable rockstars versus the childhood friend now high school bully. He could laugh at himself for thinking that Kyle had turned on him because he felt the same way but just didn’t know how to articulate it outside of shoving him against the lockers and jeering at him in gym class. 

Unrequited love that had once been returned was a higher bar to clear than a fan fantasy or a childhood crush, but then the sins Alex carried were deeper and more lasting as well. More than a ruined but now healed hand and a discarded scholarship, he had the murder of Michael’s mother to carry.  He would survive Michael not loving him, he was reasonably sure of it. He wasn’t sure if he would survive something happening to Michael because of the Manes family legacy. 

Someone knowing how to subdue and take Michael pointed to his family’s involvement. 

He didn’t bother with the visitor’s desk at the hospital foyer this time, walking purposefully toward the elevator and wing where Liz’s new lab resided. The door opened to his touch, revealing Isobel hovering anxiously near Liz’s shoulder as she swabbed a syringe. 

“You made good time.” Isobel greeted.

“I hacked the traffic lights.” Alex informed, setting his laptop case on the lab table, and popping the case open. A few keystrokes and he was inside the hospital network and probably breaking a dozen federal laws of privacy. 

Kyle closed the door, and shook his head, “Seriously?”

“No. I was at the bunker.” He brought up the internal security logs, noting visitors and elevator access. “So what do we know?”

“Not a lot,” Liz replied, her gaze fixed on a spread of swabs and slides. “I’m trying to pull as many samples as I can from this syringe so I can analyze it. There looks to be a reservoir of 3 CCs. My original serum required a dose of at least 6 CCs to incapacitate, so whatever they used was more concentrated.”

“Hopefully less lethal,” Isobel observed. “Are you in the hospital network already?”

“Just what’s linked to the internal wifi signals. I’m going to need access to their security office since it appears the actual camera footage is on a closed circuit.”

Kyle pulled out his ID badge, “I can take you there, but how are you going to get the guards to let you look at the footage? I can still call my mom and make this an official police investigation.”

Alex dug into his pockets for a thumb drive, and then turned to Isobel, “I’m hoping you can influence the guard into letting me download the footage. If you can’t, then we will need to bring the sheriff into this.”

Isobel tapped her forehead knowingly, “If I can’t influence the guards to let you in, I can at least make one of them think he left his car unlocked or his coffee pot plugged in.”

“Let’s go then. Michael has been missing for at least an hour.”

Kyle tapped his badge at certain checkpoints, opening the electronic doors as they headed down to the security room. Alex made a mental note to scrub the ID tags once they were done, on the off chance someone was curious about the movements of a doctor who should have been long off duty.

The windowless room was covered in screens and held one guard boredly sipping his coffee while he watched a television show on his phone. There was a chance they didn’t need a psychic to gain access, but it was probably better safe than sorry.

Alex moved quickly after Isobel held the security guard’s mind in hers and slide behind the desk to call up the footage on the parking garage. Mindful of time, he plugged in his drive and started transferring all the raw data from the camera recordings. The antiquated hospital computing system did nothing to soothe the anxiety. 

Long experience working with poor computing power and broken infrastructure while deployed in Iraq was the only thing that kept his inner impatience off his face. Touching the mouse or tapping his fingers never moved data faster. 

Finally the file clicked over complete, he slid back from the bank of monitors, and nodded to Isobel. The security guard took a deep breath and look around briefly before picking up his phone and restarting the television show on his app.

The door clicked shut as the three of them hastened back to Liz’s lab. His hip barked at the hurried extension he placed on his body. With the clock ticking, the discomfort slipped into the box marked ‘to deal with later’. Once the drive was inserted, it was a matter of minutes to set up a scan for vehcile traffic entering and exiting the hospital parking lot. 

Liz dug out a bottle of acetone for Isobel, who accepted it with a small smile and then nodded over to the laptop. “I hope you are having more luck with the security footage, than I am having with this drug.”

“I grabbed everything from the last 72 hours, just in case. It’s possible someone followed Michael to the hospital,” Alex balanced carefully onto the stool, keeping the weight off his prostetic. “I would have found a less populated area for a snatch and grab, but maybe they were worried about Michael’s powers and if so, then likely they scouted the view points of the cameras before they made their move to minimize their exposure. At least that’s what I would have done, if I had discarded the open road or home as possible targets.”

“Well we all know what a paranoid and careful asshole you are, Alex.” Kyle observed, working on a second set of samples. 

“I try not to repeat my mistakes.”

“Like Caulfield?” Isobel asked pointed. 

A sharp stab of pain went through him at the reminder. As if the prison ever left his mind for a moment these days. “Yes, like Caulfield. I should have found a more covert way to gain information than assume it was abandoned. I should have realized my dad had more going on than surveillance on Roswell.”

Kyle touched Alex’s shoulder with a comforting clasp, “At least we know he’s not personally behind this. Master Sergeant's main nurse likes me, she would have called if something had changed.” 

Alex stayed silent, knowing that his next task would be gaining access to the long term rest home in Santa Fe where they had transferred his comatose father after he had attacked Kyle. There had been initial protests regarding the forged records until he had pointed out the other option had been to kill Jesse. 

The classic body Chevy truck flashed on the screen with the timecode marking it as Michael’s arrival at the hospital. Alex paused and marked the frame for reference, then eased through the later clips watching for his exit. There were two cameras concentrated on the parking lot, one at the entrance/exit, and one with a long panoramic view of the lot, primarily to ward off a car thief or would-be mugger. It was grainy in grey scale, but at least he could be thankful that Michael drove such a distinctive truck. The task of finding an unremarkable Honda Prisius would have been daunting.

His hand stilled as he paused the footage on the slow but unmistakable swagger of a figure striding away from the hospital entrance toward the parked Chevy. Michael’s black cowboy hat hid his face but even absent such an identifiable marker Alex was sure could have picked out his body in a sea of others without question. 

Michael reached his truck with no issue, unlocking the driver’s side door. His hand swept off his hat and casually tossed it into the front seat of the cab. Behind him, in the next parking aisle a nondescript panel van, a door opened slid open and a glint peeked out. Michael reached behind his neck, his body half in the truck and slapping at the skin there. 

Alex inhaled sharply, fear and dread rising. It was a terrible thing to watch knowing it had already happened. Two figures dressed in plain dark clothing emerged from the van, and started toward the truck. Michael’s body half fell from the cab, and curled around the front wheel. Alex watched as the two effortlessly brushed off the weak struggles to fight their grasp of Michael’s shoulders, tugging him backward to the waiting van. 

His body was tossed without care into the back, the door sliding shut blocking the last view of Michael. The two men split up from the van, circling around to the front doors. Alex numbly clicked on the frame, saving it, and switched over to the second camera focused on the entrance. 

Watching his brother Flint calmly pay the ticket machine was not much of a surprise at this point. 

“Kyle, I’m going to need you to call your nurse friend to check on my father.” He was proud that his voice was calm and even, despite the rising sickness within. “The good news is, this wasn’t a government issued black ops team that took Michael.”

“And the bad news?” Isobel prompted.

“It was personal, which means they aren’t as invested in keeping him alive.”

* * * * 

[Isobel details their mental bond. That it feels blank]

“I was always closer with Max. I don’t know if it was a twin thing or being raised together, but Michael was always harder to connect with until recently. We’ve been practicing so much together, he started to take up a bit of space here, “ she patted her chest. “Not enough to fill the void where Max was, but enough that I could tell if he was happy or if he was angry. Strong emotions only came through. Lately it was a lot of anger but he wouldn’t tell me what was going on… “

“And now? Do you feel him now?”

Tears filled her eyes and she shook her head. “It’s empty. Blank. Like it was when we kids before he moved back to Roswell. I think he’s still alive, but he feels very far away, or very weak.”

[Alex waits patiently for the call. He thinks this is going to be an exchange of Michael for his dad, until he realizes his dad is not at the long-term care facility any more]

[Round table discussion at Max’s house to figure out what Jesse wants. Isobel finds out more about the shared past of Michael and Alex- and Maria shows up at the end looking for Michael]

“It’s been 2 days, why hasn’t your dad called with his demands? Is he not reading from the classic villain script this time?” Isobel wondered bitterly. “What is with your family, Alex?”

Kyle injected, “We don’t know that Sergant Manes is involved.”

“Don’t we? He disappeared from the nursing home just before Michael was taken. It seems pretty convenient timing to me.”

Alex pressed his fingers under his eyelids to relieve the building pressure. It had been a long two days of nothing after he received the call that the psuedonmyn he had checked his dad in unrder was no longer a patient in the long-term coma ward in Sante Fe. The staff was calling it a miracle that just after a devoted son had prayed at his bedside, he had woken up. Alex knew it was anything but divine intervention to have Jesse awake and free in the world. 

“Isobel is right, this has Dad written all over it. Somehow Flint found out what had happened and woke him up. It’s been two days because I’m guessing he is still weak from the inactivity.”

Liz stirred from her claimed spot on the couch, cracking an eyelid. “What makes you think there’s going to be a demand, Isobel? Manes has what he wants, a new alien to test and torture. If you look at the research side of things, the aliens in Caulfield were all weak and elderly, and Michael’s a healthy 28 year old. Whatever fucked up weapon he was developing might need a younger test subject.”

“Now there’s a comforting thought.” Kyle muttered. 

“I don’t think it’s research. This still feels personal to me. Michael still has an offensive power to defend himself with, the softer target would have been Isobel if he just wanted an alien to grab.”

“Gee, thanks Alex. Come closer and I’ll show you what I’ve been working on and see if you think I’m still a soft target after I turn your skull into crushed bone.”

***

Alex’s fingers were numb, as he pressed in his code to access his Whatsapp account. Waiting in his inbox was an unknown number and a video attachment. He abruptly dropped into the deck chair as the video opened to his worst fear made real.

Michael’s left eye was swollen shut, blood staining from the corner of his forehead, dripping down his cheek bone. His arms were stretched high above his head, disappearing out of frame. His shirt was missing, and there were sluggishly wounds striping over his shoulder and licking across his collar bone. 

The camera turned, Michael blurring out of view. The monster that starred in seventy percent of his nightmares filled the screen. “Hello, Alex. I was hoping to keep you out of this, son, but this creature is being very uncooperative.” 

Off screen, he heard a weak, “Go fuck yourself, Manes. I keep telling you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jesse nodded to someone out of frame, and Michael screamed in agonizing pain. Long hiccuping gasps for air puncuated another softer, “fuck you.”

“Like I said, uncooperative. When we last saw each other, you had something that belonged to me. Jim Valenti stole it from our base, and refused to tell me what he had done with it despite my best efforts at persuading him.” 

Michael cried out again, choking on a soft sob. Alex forced himself to watch, drinking in every detail for his later plans. 

“With N-38 gone, I can’t hurt this thing the same way I did dear old Jim so I’ve had to get creative. Electricity just makes some of them stronger, but good old heat and sharp still work on them. We both know you can break its bones with enough force.” Jesse turned, pointing the camera toward Michael again, focusing on the dangling bare feet. “There are more bones per square inch in the foot, than anywhere else in the body. I am telling you this so you don’t doubt my resolve. This thing is relatively harmless for its kind, and I’m willing to return it to you in more or less good condition, if you bring me what Valenti stole. Let me know what you decide to do.”

The video cut off. 

****

There was an expected role to play, like there always was when Jesse Manes was involved. Once it meant peppering his speech with ‘yes sir’ and ‘sorry sir’ and toning down his clothing in hopes of escaping his fists, and when that proved futile, it went in the opposite direction with makeup, nail polish, and piercings.

For all of his proud talk about the service, his father never served anywhere but stateside. His knowledge of tactical defense and enemy counter measures were likely twenty years of date, and Alex was counting on his father’s pride from keeping him unaware of the technology shift. The set up of the Project Shepherd bunker confirmed that.

He tucked his personal side arm into his thigh holster, securing to his left leg and reached for his secondary weapon to slip into his boot strapped to his prosthetic. The weight of the kevlar and vest registered briefly on his shoulders before it slipped into the blank shroud that had enveloped him as soon as he heard Michael’s cries. Knives and a pair of percussive grenades weighed down each side of his pockets.

A floorboard behind him creaked, his gun cleared the holster before his mind caught up on who would have followed him to his cabin. It was a little concerning that the sound of a vehicle hadn’t registered until now.

“Whoa, don’t shoot.” Kyle lifted his hands, halting abruptly.  He took in the dark clothing, combat hardware and the array of weapons spread on the cabin’s table. “I guess we are going full cliche today, good to know.”

Alex dropped his arm away, resecuring his gun. “Then you know what I’m going to say already.”

“Humor me, then. This is a trap, Alex.”

“I’m well aware.” Alex flipped open a black case and pulled out his phone and laptop. Carefully he pulled out three silver discs, and a pair of jeweler’s glasses. He sat down in the chair, slipping the glasses on to peer down at the discs. “I’m going anyway.”

Kyle sighed, aggrieved. “Well I did promise Guerin if he got his ass kidnapped by the government, I would come to his rescue.”

Alex didn’t look up from his work, pressing a small pin on each disc. “You’re not going with me, Kyle.”

“I know this face is distractingly handsome, but tell me you remember all the time we spent on the range together as kids. I can shoot a gun.” 

“Shooting a paper target is different from shooting at a human being.” Each disc beeped softly, then went silent. He pulled the glasses off with a satisfied smirk, “Besides, I need you to come with the cavalry. These are military grade GPS trackers that I’ve linked to my laptop and my phone. Once my father sees I’m there without the piece of the ship, he’ll take me to Michael so he can teach me a lesson.”

“What makes you think your dad won’t find these trackers?”

“I’m sure he will, but I’ve got a back up plan on that as well. My father has underestimated me my entire life. He thinks I am weak, that my emotions and desires cloud my judgment. He’s going to see he was wrong.”

“Alex.” Kyle hesitated, struggling for a moment before taking a seat at the table. He gently laid his hand on Alex’s wrist, stilling the other man. “We all want Guerin back safe but I want you to consider for a moment that your father is right, that your emotions are clouding your judgment. Because what I’m seeing right now is kind of freaking me out, dude. You’re dressed from head to toe in black ops murder gear with GPS trackers, which I didn’t even know you could buy, talking about going in alone, guns blazing, against your dad.”

“I got them on Ebay.”

“That’s what you’re choosing to focus on?”

“What are my other options, Kyle? He’s got Michael. He’s had him for two days, and there is exactly zero chance he doesn’t want both the UFO fragment and Michael.” Alex wrenched his hand away,. He inhaled deeply and pushed down the swell of thoughts of what had already happened to Michael in two days.

“I agree, but back when I laid him out with barbiturates in our bunker, you and I had a discussion about killing him. I seem to remember we decided against that.”

“No, Kyle, you decided against it and I went along with it. Which was clearly a mistake. This has been a long time coming, okay? He brought this on himself when he took Michael.”

“I knew there was no talking you out of this. I just don’t want you to do this alone.”

* * * 

The lights were all on at the formerly known as Evans-Bracken residence, now just Evans. 

“You look like you’re ready to storm the castle.” Isobel commented, before pushing the door open and turning back into the house. “I still haven’t felt anything from Michael. He could be dead, and all of this would be pointless.”

Alex winced and acknowledged the point before pushing the thought down. “He’s not dead.”

“How do you know? Your so-called cosmic connection?” She sipped from the glass in her hand, the scent of chemicals wafted to him. It was clearly not water.

Gently he wrapped his fingers around her hand, guiding the glass away before resting it on the table next to him. “Maybe, but in reality, if he was dead, my father would have taken someone else as leverage and he would have taunted me with my failure to protect Michael.”

****

[ So as you can see it needs a massive rewrite to fix my characterization- but I still like the plot of Jesse taking Michael for the ship piece- especially since the show fumbled on this so badly in 2x10-2x11. ]

[perioddonkey3]

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Our treatments are carried out by skilled experts in over 100 facilities across the UK as well as several thousands extra worldwide. I ultimately plumped to have my top as well as lower abdomen dealt with, where the fat that sits there giggles in the face of slabs, crunches, and also the TV-watching I do as opposed to either of those points. tired your various other alternatives for diet plan and also workout as well as still can not shift specific pockets of fat, CoolSculpting can help do the rest of the help you. Therapy time takes minutes where you will continue to be on the therapy bed. A clean and sterile gel pad is placed over the cured area to protect the skin. The locations being dealt with are marked up and after that you will certainly pick the therapy bed.

At Essex Laser Lipo our professionals are experienced at making use of state of the art innovation to accomplish the body kinds which our clients need. Outcomes will start to be visible after 2 or 3 weeks with the result between 6-10 weeks. Our established customers is drawn from both sexes and also throughout the board of ages, histories, and also needs. Whilst we certainly provide a particular niche service, our clients themselves originate from the broadest variety.

Can you freeze your fat off at home?

CoolSculpting is known for “freezing” fat cells, but there's much more to the process. DIY CoolSculpting often involves ice cubes or other frozen materials. It's done in an effort to freeze fat cells. However, applying ice at home only freezes your skin and doesn't get rid of any fat cells.

Fat ices up at a greater temperature level than water, so there's no hiding from the fact that whichever area you're targeting with the treatment, it's mosting likely to feel a little cold. " You wont really see or feel fat in the bathroom bowl. Although it's irreversible there is no damage to the surrounding tissues". " Although it's permanent there is no damage to the bordering skin, it's simply a means of speeding up what is an all-natural procedure. You can likewise request an appointment using video clip or personally making use of the Demand an Assessment button listed below. An individualised costing will be given at the preliminary appointment. You can eat and drink as generally before, throughout and also complying with the treatment. At first during the vacuum process clients will experience a sharp tug and also pressure.

This aspects consist of swelling painful bruising, pain tingling restricted wheelchair and allergy. The toughest outcomes show up on customers with a BMI of 30 or below. For more information on the benefits of CoolSculpting ® or to schedule an examination, telephone call.

New Harvard study fights fat with salty, icy injections - New Atlas

New Harvard study fights fat with salty, icy injections.

Posted: Wed, 15 Jan 2020 08:00:00 GMT [source]

[semi-anonyme]

November 3, 2020

12:05pm

I woke up at 7:00am today and I knew a few things: 1.) I would buy a Vitamix and begin to make smoothies every day 2.) I would stop holding onto the past 3.) It would be my last entry on this tumblr

Today, it is Election Day. I am very much hoping Joe Biden will win, not just for my sanity but for everyone’s sanity, for a little hope in humanity’s fight against the allure of anti-intellectualism, scapegoating, its growing tolerance of hate.

I remember the last election day, or rather, the evening. We all thought Hillary would win uneventfully. I remember my colleague dipping out of work early to go to the Javits Center to celebrate her victory. I remember watching in disbelief from my basement computer, walking upstairs with my eyes wide and jaw dropped. “Are you watching the news right now Mike?” “Yeah, Trump is in the lead. It looks like he’s about to win Pennsylvania (or was it Michigan? Or Wisconsin?)” I walked to bed in disgust, woke up in disgust, confirmed my disgust.

There was not one conversation I heard on the train or in the street that day that didn’t involve Trump. That night, I drank alone at Three Diamond Door. I still remember the buff black dude sitting in the corner downing Bell’s Two Hearted IPAs.

Anyway, election day 2020. I’m going out to vote in about 2 hours. I got today off. Thanks, progressive companies.

I’ve had a lot of internal discussions with myself on here, published them as blog posts. I have timestamps to remember them by, I’m glad. In the past ~8 months since the pandemic began, I’ve gone back to a lot of my entries -- oh, this is what it was like in the beginning in March. Oh yes, May, I was indeed watching a lot of K-Dramas, it was getting hotter. Ahhh yes, I did learn a lot about not having the city as my crutch.

Just in general, on this blog, on the countless loose leaf papers in my journal, I’ve had these battles about meaning. This blog pre-dates seeing Jody my therapist, who I’ve been seeing faithfully for over 1.5 years now.

I could go on. The point I’m making rn in this last entry is this -- all that stuff is in the past, it was important, I internalized it. Now it’s time to move on. I’m glad this exists, these 450 entries exist, they exist with a purpose. But now? I know who I am, what I want to be.

I have no dilemma of engineering vs artistry. Now that I’ve been away from loud bars, I have no FOMO about the nightlife. It’s kinda just time to start from scratch, this knowledge.

I just created a new tumblr, domo-knows. I’ll likely have a companion YouTube channel in the future. Anyway, a few and somewhat ambiguous bullets for myself since, you know, this blog was always just for me.

ON THINGS I’M LEAVING BEHIND ACTIONS 1. Random drinking. Today, I’m going to buy an Other Half Finback IPAs, pop them open around 8pm and start watching election results. I’ve gone into detail before about drinking, but just to sum it up, drinking alcohol is the one thing I can say captures how complex and funny it is being a human -- how we use it socially, justify it, cling onto it, how it becomes tangled up in our highest achievements and our most shameful insecurities. I’ve consumed alcohol for these various reasons in my life:

a.) I was avoiding doing something difficult b.) I didn’t want to be alone in my room, and preferred the loud chatter of conversations and music at a cramped bar c.) I did not trust my social abilities sober, so I drank alcohol because I’ve never known anyone who has not liked me when I’ve had a couple (when I’m shit-faced, another story) d.) To hook up with a girl e.) I was bored f.) I was about to do something boring and wanted to make it more exciting g.) Because it was a beautiful sunny day, perfect for a beer on a patio h.) Because it was a cold and dreary day, perfect to brood over a Manhattan i.) I was lonely j.) My life was going too well, I wasn’t used to that, and I needed something to question k.) My life was going poorly, and I needed something to cheer me up for the evening l.) I needed to make a decision, so I drank alcohol and wrote in my journal and came to a good decision that I stuck with m.) I needed to make a decision, so I drank alcohol until I no longer cared, and the decision was punted off until the next day n.) I I needed to make a decision, I thought a drink or two would jigger my thought process, but I ended up getting distracted by something my drunk self was interested in, and the decision was punted off until the next day I’d come up with more but they’re all just variations of that and who wants to read more of that? 2. Eating sugary sweets, justifying it by saying I have “an addiction” I actually never cared for sweets until high school. Most birthday cake I had was gross, my parents bought Chips Ahoy or Oreos which tbh aren’t all that great, and I was never exposed to really good pastries until I was in college. In high school, I dropped a buncha weight entirely too quickly and I ended up with a fats and sweets “addiction” that I’ve “had ever since”. This is a common thing.

I’ve held it close to me mentally -- my “sweets addiction”. I didn’t question it, it was something I just had, something to hang onto for the rest of my life because I fucked up when I was younger.

But as I’ve gotten older, I understand that these things -- addictions -- serve purposes. They keep us comfortable in what we deem to be true of ourselves. They (poorly) provide temporary breaks from incessant mental gymnastics/fatigue. Anyway, blah blah, big sweeping declarations, blah blah, I’ve done that all before. But when I woke up today, I knew I would get a Vitamix like I’ve been talking about for years, and I made a decision to stop holding onto this. I always eat 2 meals a day with a wild west assortment of things in between, cake and cookies and granola bars and Halloween candy. Now, 2 meals and a protein smoothie/juice.

Let them muscles grow bb. Feel good about my body, treat it like the fucking temple it is.

3. Dicking around on the internet I enjoy reddit. I enjoy wikipedia. I also end up on these sites when I’m avoiding other major responsibilities and uncomfortable feelings. I know what I want: it involves a lot of deep practice. I could read about programming all day and I’d be fascinated -- you know, the history of Silicon Valley, Introduction to the Rust Programming language, new JavaScript frameworks, discussions on HackerNews about The Best Way to Build Something. But nothing beats getting your hands dirty. Nothing beats poring over source code, running into strange errors, resolving them, moving on, over and over ad nauseam until lo-and-behold, you are an expert.

I can read about music, listen to raps over and over, but nothing beats analyzing a verse over and over and actually hearing the syllables landing on, falling behind the beat.

I’m here to structure my day. I know what I want. Expertise, pride, and know-how. A differentiated skillset so I can collaborate with other differentiated skillsets. Good taste, a feeling of belonging. All that shit, all I ever wanted but didn’t know until recently. THOUGHT PATTERNS 1. FOMO What is it with being a human -- a Man, especially (sorry is that sexist, but also, not sorry) -- that makes us believe that everyone has everything we have and more? That we are the base model without power windows, and everyone else is an upgrade? I love going on walks in New York City. I love riding the trains in New York City. But while some of this love is healthy spectatorship, much of what I’ve engaged in is unhealthy envy.

I’m done with that though. I know what I like. And I know I have a dope life. And I know that I’m a good person to know, that people may have different qualities than me but I also have different qualities from them. I’m cool with my small close-knit friends. 2. INDECISION I kinda expanded on this above. I know what I want, and all questioning I’ve done (especially recently) has been my effort to save myself from doing the work, save myself from having to declare what I am. 3. ENGAGING IN FEELINGS OF BEING LATE I am 31 years old. This is something I know to be true: there is a 13-year old who can program circles around me. There is a kid who can play a rendition of Misty on piano so soulful that it’ll bring a tear to my eye. There is nothing, technically (as in, technical expertise), that I can do that can’t be done by anyone else. But I do believe in my taste and I do believe in my life experiences. And I do believe that whatever I create can only be mine, have my signature, and I think that whatever I create in this world that I’m proud of is going to be good. That’s a fact, and I’m going into the future with that as a fact.

Farewell, semi-anonyme Anyway, I was going to write more but I wanna get going, more to do. I’ve got some work to do, some voting to do, some writing to do, some planning to do.

I love you all. See you on the other side.

[thevengeanceuniverse]

Truce? Ch 3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25622497/chapters/63285697

They get caught up in the game, becoming so good at the pretending that it no longer feels like a chore. It starts being second nature for Bucky to order Tony something sugary to eat with his coffee because he’s secretly a child with an enormous sweet tooth. Tony learns that while Bucky can now make conversation with anyone at the galas, he likes the people involved in NGO work the most and secretly sets him up with sweatshop activists interested in shifting the labour to a manner that doesn’t horrendously violate human rights. 

Bucky has had enough of organizations using people.

The culmination comes on Bucky’s birthday, which the team, minus Tony (and Bruce who baked Bucky a dozen cupcakes before retreating to his lab) tries to celebrate like normal people do. They go out to dinner in disguises that only work with varying success, drink innumerable bottles of champagne and eat cake that is so rich it feels like it’s giving them diabetes just from looking at it.

It turns out that supersoldiers can get drunk after all, if they have a god in their midst that brings Asgardian mead to the party. Everyone is overly enthusiastic about putting its powers to the test and they all end up various levels of wasted.

Stumbling back to the Tower at 3 am to order pizza and wings and all the other greasy food they can find, they’re confronted with Tony’s gift, which is just lying in wait for Bucky’s return.

A giant tank dominates a part of the space that Bucky was sure had a wall before. It is as long across as Bucky is high and swimming happily inside, in his miniature body of water decorated with what seems like thousands of dollars in plants, fish and castles as well as a state of the art filtration system, is a red-eared slider.

There’s a nameplate on the front of the tank, with the engraved words “Call me Crush.”

~~

Bucky, of course, tries to thank Tony. Tony predictably tries to avoid it as long as possible.

Driven to desperation, Bucky does something he’s not proud of, but he would argue it was desperate circumstances. He enlists the PR team.

They arrange it so that Bucky and Tony are outside when the photographers catch them, so Tony absolutely cannot escape as the man he professes to love presses a sweet kiss to his cheek and thanks him happily. It’s absolutely chaste and leagues tamer than the majority of things that Tony Stark has been caught doing in public, but somehow it reduces Tony to the equivalent of a puddle of goo.

Even the sceptics are convinced the relationship is real when they witness Tony Stark transform into a blushing maiden at an innocent kiss, unable to form words until he ultimately just hides his red face in Bucky’s neck. He would obviously rather be anywhere else at the moment.

Bucky’s smug grin, on the other hand, tells the world he is utterly comfortable exactly where he is if that meant Tony Stark was in his arms.

~~

“Tony, can you explain this to me please?” Pepper dropped a newspaper on Tony’s lab table. 

“Oh my god,” Tony said, shocked. “Pepper, is this paper?”

“It’s not the paper that’s the focus here, Tony, it’s what on it!” She pointed at the image of Tony and Bucky plastered across the front page. “What is this?”

Tony glanced at it briefly, seeing a headline about his and Bucky’s fake romance and quickly turned away, forcing his mind to return to the problem he had been working on before Pepper had so rudely barged in. “What do you mean, what is that? That is the proof of my brilliant acting and everything going according to plan. I thought you would be happy.”

“This is not acting!” Pepper held up the paper in front of his face until he had no choice but to take a good look at it. It’s two pictures side by side. One is the famous still of Bucky’s thank you that had splashed all over the gossip channels, but the other was one he hadn’t seen before.

His face drained of colour as he stared at the image that must have been taken that day at the trampoline park, where Barnes had decided to blow his mind by showing him that while he didn’t dance, he sure as hell could.

The picture was one of him pressed up with his back against Bucky Barnes chest, held there by metal and flesh hands intertwined with his on his abdomen.

The closeness wasn’t the issue, it was the look of rapture on his face as Barnes dragged his lips across the exposed expanse of Tony’s neck, intent and seductive. It looked as if the photographer had caught them in a private moment, one that had never been meant to share with others. It’s what made it so enticing. That two fully clothed people in a photo had the ability to seem so indecent was one thing, but both photos together enlightened Tony to a damning discovery. 

Tony gaped at the image, mortified. “What the hell is this?” Tony had no recollection of any of this happening. Was he drugged?

“No, you were not drugged,” Pepper answered, making Tony aware that he was speaking aloud. “Though that would more easily explain why you’re suddenly so chummy with Sergeant Barnes when six months ago you couldn’t stand being next to him.”

“We need to end it,” Tony said abruptly instead of answering, not wanting to touch his burgeoning relationship with Barnes with a 10-foot pole. “It’s the only smart thing to do. If we keep this going, people are going to expect us to stay together and it’s going to be even more of an uproar when we split up. We’ll make up something—say I cheated, people would believe that.”

“Tony, you’re not the same man you were years ago,” Pepper said, dragging a hand over Tony’s hair. “Are you sure you want to throw yourself under the bus in order to protect the Winter Soldier?”

“That’s just the thing, Pep,” Tony replied. “He’s not just the Winter Soldier anymore.”

~~

“Bucky, I brought back food,” Steve announced as he walked into the apartment after his run, clad in t-shirt and shorts. Catching sight of Bucky sitting slumped on the sofa with a pillow clutched to his stomach, he dropped the smoothies and bagel sandwiches on the table and moved towards him. 

“Sweetheart,” he said gently, “what’s wrong? Is it a bad day today?”

“No,” Bucky mumbled. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine,” Steve said, sitting down next to his oldest friend and longest love. They had been through hell and back to be here, and even if he was still learning who the new man Bucky was, he knew when he was okay and when he wasn’t.

“It’s stupid. I just got a call from the PR people.” Bucky sighed. “They said that Tony thinks that it’s a good time to end our fake relationship. They’ll start the de-escalation sometime this week so in a few months we can naturally break it off.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Steve asked, shifting on the sofa to pull his feet up and crossing them. He knew that Bucky and Tony had been getting friendlier over the course of the last months, a real affection growing for each other as evidenced by Bucky’s birthday gift. When Bucky had walked in to see the enormous tank and his new turtle friend inside, drunk from the Asgardian mead—which Steve was going to treat with extreme caution from now on—he had grasped on the open edge of the tank and attempted to go swimming. To bond with his new friend.

Luckily, Thor (the only one still standing upright) had enough strength to dissuade Bucky from taking a dip with the turtle, convincing him that he would probably scare Crush and ruin their blossoming relationship. Bucky had pouted fiercely, but it had worked.

“No—I mean yes, of course, it’s good,” Bucky conceded to Steve’s question. “Because it means that the public is no longer interested in persecuting me for the crimes I committed as the Winter Soldier, but—” Bucky broke off, burying his face in his hands and groaning. “It’s complicated.” 

Steve stoked Bucky’s side soothingly. “Yes, like this whole charade has been the definition of simple.”

Though Steve and Bucky were the ones actually together, Steve wasn’t jealous that Bucky had to pretend to be with Tony in public. He knew that Bucky loved him and if this fake relationship would protect him and prevent the Winter Soldier’s crimes from coming back to haunt them in the future, he was all for it. He would endure any discomfort if it meant protecting Bucky and whether he liked it or not, he knew that his actions of turning against the world to go chase after Bucky did leave a stain on his reputation. Fury had been frank with him on that fact. Tony, on the other hand, still had the political clout, financial means and media finesse to help Bucky out of this situation with the best possible outcome.

Especially because of his personal connection to the issue causing the uproar.

“Bucky,” Steve pulled the brunette back to him, holding onto his hands and squinting at him with concerned blue eyes. “What’s really wrong? You know you can tell me anything.”

Bucky worried the flesh of his lip with his teeth, pulling away to clutch the pillow back against his stomach once again. 

“Oh god, Steve,” he finally whispered, eyes wet and guilty. “I know that it was all pretend, that we actually weren’t dating and I know that I love you more than anything but…I think the illusion became the reality.”

~~

“Hey, can we talk?”

[muhammadshahrozkhan]

How to Lose Weight Faster, But Safely

https://linktr.ee/fitness1234

Lose 5 pounds in one week! It's a trope we see everywhere. And while it’s possible that someone can lose that much (if not more) in that time period, it really depends on your metabolism and loads of other factors, including physical activity and body composition, all of which are entirely unique to you.

Weight loss ultimately comes back to the concept of calories in, calories out: Eat less than you burn and you’ll lose weight. And while it’s possible to lose water weight quickly on a low-carb diet, I certainly wouldn’t advocate for it. The diet itself can trick you into thinking that this eating style is working — when really, you might gain back what you lost as soon as you eat carbs again. That can feel incredibly dispiriting if you want results that last longer than a week.

Based on my experience in nutrition counseling, most of us tend to snack on foods that aren’t nutrient-dense, but are high in calories. For example, skipping sugary beverages is often the easiest way to lose weight faster. You don’t feel full from drinks — even the ones that do contain calories — so swapping those out for sparkling water or unsweetened tea and coffee is the best place to start. Other major culprits often come in refined grains like cereals, chips, crackers, and cookies.

If you're looking to speed up weight loss, I'd also encourage you to be mindful of the foods you eat that you don't choose for yourself. Think: food pushers at work or your kids’ leftovers. Noticing where your extra calories actually come from is another step to making better choices in the short and long term.

In my experience, there are a few other tips that hold true for almost all of us across the board — and they’re concepts that we can put into practice beginning right now.

So, here’s where to start:

1. Eat more vegetables, all of the time.

It’s that simple, I promise! If you think about making any meal mostly veggies (at least 50% of anything that you’re having), you’re on the right track to better health and weight loss.

2. Build a better breakfast.

All meals are important, but breakfast is what helps you start your day on the right track. The best, heartiest breakfasts are ones that will fill you up, keep you satisfied, and stave off cravings later in the day. Aim to eat anywhere between 400 and 500 calories for your morning meal, and make sure you're including a source of lean protein plus filling fat (e.g., eggs, unsweetened Greek yogurt, nuts, or nut butters) and fiber (veggies, fruit, or 100% whole grains). Starting your day with a blood sugar-stabilizing blend of nutrients will help you slim down without sacrifice.

3. Know your limits with salt.

Since salt is a preservative, packaged and processed foods are often highest in sodium — something to keep in mind when planning your meals. When it comes by buying snacks, a "low sodium" product has to be 140 mg or less per serving — so if you're REALLY in a bind, you can follow that guideline for what to put in your cart.

4. Drink more coffee.

Start your day with a cup of joe. Caffeine is a natural diuretic and an excellent source of antioxidants, which protect your cells from damage. You can have up to 400 mg — about a venti Starbucks coffee — daily, according to the Dietary Guidelines for Americans.

Not much of a coffee drinker? Tea is also a natural diuretic, and types of herbal tea such as dandelion or fennel root can also lend a hand. In fact: When a recent study compared the metabolic effect of green tea (in extract) with that of a placebo, researchers found that the green-tea drinkers burned about 70 additional calories in a 24-hour period.

5. Skip sugary beverages.

We just don't feel full by liquid calories in quite the same way as we do real food. Drinking a juice or caramel coffee drink just isn't as satisfying as eating a bowl of veggie- and protein-packed stir-fry. So monitor your intake of juice, soda, sweetened coffee and tea, and alcoholic beverages. If you consume each of those beverages during the day, you'll have taken in at least 800 extra calories by nighttime — and you'll still be hungry. (Incidentally, alcohol may suppress the metabolism of fat, making it tougher for you to burn those calories.)

6. Buy a set of 5-pound weights.

5-Pound Dumbbells (Pair)CAP Barbellamazon.com$31.99

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It's a one-time investment you'll never regret. Here's why: Strength training builds lean muscle tissue, which burns more calories — at work or at rest — 24 hours a day, seven days a week. The more lean muscle you have, the faster you'll slim down. How do you start strength training? Try some push-ups or a few squats or lunges. Use your free weights to perform simple bicep curls or tricep pulls right in your home or office. Do these exercises three to four times per week, and you'll soon see a rapid improvement.

7. Eat spicy foods — seriously!

It can actually help you cut back on calories. That's because capsaicin, a compound found in jalapeño and cayenne peppers, may (slightly) increase your body's release of stress hormones such as adrenaline, which can speed up your ability to burn calories. What's more, eating hot peppers may help slow you down. You're less likely to wolfed down that plate of spicy spaghetti — and therefore stay more mindful of when you're full. Some great adds besides hot peppers: ginger and turmeric.

8. Go to bed.

There's tons of research that demonstrates getting less than the desired amount — about 7 hours — of sleep per night can slow down your metabolism. Plus, when you're awake for longer, you're naturally more likely to snack on midnight munchies. So don't skimp on your ZZZ's, and you'll be rewarded with an extra edge when it comes to losing weight.

9. Keep a food journal.

Loads of research demonstrates people who log everything they eat — especially those who log while they're eating — are more likely to lose weight and keep it off for the long haul. The habit also takes less than 15 minutes per day on average when you do it regularly, according to a 2019 study published in Obesity.

Start tracking on an app like MyFitnessPal or use a regular notebook. It'll help you stay accountable for what you've eaten. Plus, you can easily identify some other areas of your daily eats that could use a little improvement when it's written out in front of you.

10. Take a walk!

Don't get me wrong — exercising at any time is good for you. But evening activity may be particularly beneficial because many people's metabolism slows down toward the end of the day. Thirty minutes of aerobic activity before dinner increases your metabolic rate and may keep it elevated for another two or three hours, even after you've stopped moving. Plus, it'll help you relax post-meal so you won't be tempted by stress-induced grazing that can rack up calories.

11. Resist the urge to skip a meal.

Skipping meals will not make you lose weight faster. If a hectic day makes a sit-down meal impossible, stash a piece of fruit and pack of nut butter in your car or purse and keep snacks in your office desk drawer — anything that will keep you from going hungry!

Going long periods of time without food does double-duty harm on our healthy eating efforts by both slowing down your metabolism, and priming you for another binge later in the day. (Think: You've skipped breakfast and lunch, so you're ready to takedown a whole turkey by dinner!) Make it your mission to eat three meals and two snacks every day, and don't wait longer than three to four hours without eating. Set a "snack alarm" on your phone if needed.

12. Eat your H2O.

Sure, you certainly need to drink plenty of water to help combat bloating, you can (and should!) also consume high-water content foods. Reach for cucumbers, tomatoes, watermelon, asparagus, grapes, celery, artichokes, pineapple, and cranberries — all of which contain diuretic properties that will also help you stay full due to their higher fiber content.

13. Munch on mineral-rich foods.

Potassium, magnesium, and calcium can help to serve as a counter-balance for sodium. Foods that are rich in potassium include leafy greens, most "orange" foods (oranges, sweet potatoes, carrots, melon), bananas, tomatoes, and cruciferous veggies — especially cauliflower. Low-fat dairy, plus nuts, and seeds can also help give you a bloat-busting boost. They've also been linked to a whole host of additional health benefits, such as lowering blood pressure, controlling blood sugar, and reducing risk of chronic disease overall.

14. Ignore the gimmicks.

Dressing on the Side (and Other Diet Myths Debunked)amazon.com$26.00 $11.99 (54% off)

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At any given time, there are dozens of weight-loss hypes in the marketplace that claim to take off 10 pounds in 10 days, or whatever. Desperation can tempt us to try anything — from "clean eating" to cutting out food groups entirely. Keep in mind: Just because an avocado-kale-salad dripping in coconut oil is deemed "clean" by a so-called "expert" on your Instagram feed does not make it an unlimited food. Moral of the story? Avoid fads, eat real food, watch some Netflix, and unwind (perhaps with a glass of wine in hand). Now that's my kind of detox.

15. Let yourself off the hook.

You already know that a perfect diet doesn't exist, but many of us still can't resist the urge to kick ourselves when we indulge, eat too much, or get thrown off course from restrictive diets. The problem: This only makes it more difficult, stressful, and downright impossible to lose weight. So rather than beating yourself up for eating foods you think you shouldn't, let it go. Treating yourself to about 200 calories worth of deliciousness each day — something that feels indulgent to you — can help you stay on track for the long haul, so allow yourself to eat, breathe, and indulge. Food should be joyful, not agonizing!

16. Look for our emblem on food labels.

Ultimately, long-term weight loss requires some short-term behavior change and healthier habit formation. That's why we created our Good Housekeeping Nutritionist Approved Emblem, which exists to help turn smart food choices into healthier eating habits. All GHNA foods and drinks make it easier to find — and eat — good-for-you foods without additional time, effort, and cost. We target the lifestyle-related factors that make healthier eating hard, and find simple but creative solutions that actually work! Look for the emblem on labels wherever you shop for food.

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Learn More Weight Loss fast

Click HERE: https://linktr.ee/fitness1234

[lovelylogans]

my true love gave to me

ships: platonic lamp, prinxiety, logicality

warnings: drinking, swearing, food mentions, jokes of the “it’s so cute i’m going to die” variety

words: 14,210

read on ao3

Twelve broken cookies, eleven homemade ornaments, ten crumpled solo cups, nine choreographed dance numbers, eight pissed-off mall elves, seven kept promises, six kinds of wrapping paper, five mismatched shoes, four doofus roommates, three different drinking games, two mugs of coffee, and the smell of smoke at 4 AM.

The original song might be catchier, but honestly, Virgil prefers his version. Even with all the hilarity and hysteria.

Something is burning. The smell's what wakes him, and it takes him about three seconds to identify the scent of smoke.

Fantastic. Virgil loves starting the day with a surge of adrenaline straight out of the gate.

Virgil stumbles out of bed, managing to avoid bouncing off the wall, and careens his way to the kitchen, feeling a little bit like his body is a bumper car being piloted by a sugar-high toddler. Distantly, he thinks he probably should have put a shirt on, in case he has to flee the building at the tail-end of December, but he can't really bring himself to care about that just now.

He comes to a stop in the doorway of the kitchen, and makes a sound that could only be compared to a particularly inquisitive squeaky hinge.

Two heads snap around from where they are focused on something on the kitchen table. Virgil leans a little to see what it is and nearly overbalances. He thinks he can hear his adrenal glands screeching to a halt in sheer confusion. Logan, wild-eyed, throws himself casually atop the kitchen table, and Roman is beaming at him at full wattage.

"Hello, friend-o!"

If the rest of Virgil's brain cells were awake, that would be the point where the Kill Bill sirens would start going off. Firstly, because Roman only calls people friend when he wants something from them. Secondly, the last time Roman and Logan teamed up in the shroud of darkness it resulted in what Patton politely terms as "a science experiment mishap" and Virgil terms "sweet fucking fuck, you idiots, we're going to lose our deposit, and my mind, and then our lives, in that order." Thirdly, there is still the scent of something burning.

As it is, he's too distracted by the brightness and eagerness of Roman's smile. His currently awake brain cells have folded up the list currently titled "You Shit, You're In Love With Roman And Now You're Resigned To Suffering In Silence Here Are All The Reasons" and is beating him about the head with it. God, why does he have to live with his crush, it's the worst thing ever.

His brain finally seizes on a talking point, and he says, "Fire?" in a voice still gruff from sleep. Belatedly, he crosses his arms over his bare chest.

"No, no, nonononono, what?" Roman says, laughing the fakest laugh Virgil has ever heard while exchanging a frantic look with Logan, who is posing on the table in a way that wouldn't be out of character for Roman, but for Logan looks like the least natural pose possible. Logan is also currently gesturing to Roman to get Virgil to leave the room, as if Virgil can't see him.

"You look sleepy, Virgil," Roman says, voice sugary-sweet, arm wrapping tight around his shoulders and steering him away from the kitchen table of mystery. Roman's arm is very warm, and his body is a tense warm line against Virgil's side. The material of his sweater is very soft along his bare skin. Virgil is quietly dying, just a little. "Aren't you just so sleepy?"

Virgil's body traitorously leans into Roman, and he mumbles, "What are you two doing?"

"Shh, nothing, nothing, don't you worry your pretty little head about it," Roman says, and Virgil is aware he's being steered out of the kitchen and thereby away from whatever apocalypse-worthy thing Roman and Logan have deemed fit to create in the dead of night, but he's also very very tired. And also, Roman just called him pretty.

"But I smelled smoke," Virgil says, sleepy and confused and a little punch drunk off human contact, and before he knows it, Roman has shoved him unceremoniously onto his own bed. 

"Did you?" Roman asks, attempting to wrap Virgil in all the blankets like the world's most emo burrito. 

Virgil tries in vain to wriggle his arms loose, which results in a five minute detour of the conversation while Roman attempts to bundle him up and Virgil attempts to keep the ability to breathe without being smothered to death.

This ends with Roman laying mostly on behind and slightly on top of Virgil, pinning him to the bed, and Virgil making a few token wriggles of malcontent but really mostly kind of enjoying the weight and heat of Roman's chest to really try anything. He is very warm. He should probably be trying to get back up again but all his brain is capable of is a half-asleep stupor, stunned and lazy with it.

"I know what you're doing," Virgil mumbles from where his face is mostly squashed into the pillows. He now knows what it's like to be the little spoon with Roman, this is going to ruin his life, but also this is the best thing that has happened to him this week.

"That's nice, Virgil," Roman says distractedly, and Virgil feels the sensation of Roman's arm leaving his body. He supposes this might mean that Logan and Roman are having some kind of gesticular conversation behind his back, but as Virgil is pinned, he can't exactly eavesdrop. Eyes-drop? Since he'd be looking at it.

Virgil wants to laugh. Patton would like that one.

Patton. If Roman's snuggle-warfare is going to work—and it probably will, at this point of exhaustion Virgil's only requirements for sleep are "vaguely horizontal" and "warm" and Roman knows that—then Patton will be the only one making sure the apartment doesn't explode, and Patton sleeps with the kind of force that would make hibernating bears weep with envy.

He is the last line of defense. If it were just Roman or just Logan awake, Virgil would leave them to it. But Roman and Logan are a duo to be reckoned with. Logan and Roman are the type of people who are convinced whatever they'd create would be used to ascend to the astral plane with Africa by Toto blaring in the background. Roman and Logan are the type of people who think they could create something that would be used to unlock the final secrets of alchemy. Roman and Logan would merrily burn down the whole apartment complex if it furthered one of their brain children.

Virgil has a sudden and terrifying mental image of being tackled by dozens of tiny Roman-and-Logan look-a-likes, whilst they both cackle proudly in the background.

Right. Okay. Either he needs to caffeinate or sleep, and he can do neither of those could happen while they're in danger of Roman and Logan realizing An Idea.

Virgil pushes himself up onto an elbow, intent on going to see what Logan was blocking from sight, and very suddenly, Virgil is on his back, Roman laying on top of him with a wild light in his eyes.

"Um," Virgil says, because now he knows how Roman feels on top of him this is the best and worst EVER, "you, uh, realize this is just making me more curious. Right?"

Roman's weight on top of him is—nice, to say the least. There's an odd sense of comfort from being boxed in like this, which is saying something, because if it were anyone else Virgil would probably be halfway to freaking out. As it is—

Roman blinks down at him, elbows on either side of Virgil's head, close enough that Virgil can pick out all the little golden flecks in his eyes. "There's nothing to be curious about," he says, high-pitched. "I, um. What if I just really wanted to tuck you in?"

Virgil rolls his eyes. "Sure. And Logan wanted me to draw him like a French girl, and the smoke was just a scented candle, right?"

"I'm so glad you've understood the situation," Roman says brightly. The fact that he is currently on top of Virgil hasn't fazed him at all. "Now, don't you feel better? Relaxed enough to sleep? Preferably until noon?"

Virgil's eyes narrow. "I'll accept your terms," he says warningly, "if you promise me that whatever you and Logan are doing won't affect our security deposit."

"No, no, of course not," Roman says soothingly, and adds, more seriously, "Really, Virgil. I promise. You know how protective Logan gets over the deposit. The most danger we're in is a couple of burnt fingers, maybe." He pauses, and then leans in close enough that his lips are brushing Virgil's ear FUCK, "It's a matter of Logan's pride, really. I'm doing him a favor."

Virgil really hopes that Roman cannot feel his pulse from where their chests are pressed together. "Logan's pride?" He whispers, half to the air and half into Roman's shoulder, eyes squeezed shut.

"Mmm," Roman hums into his ear. "He required a bit of creative flair for a certain someone's present."

It clicks then. Patton. Of course. In the cover of night, when Patton would only be roused by the sound of sirens, and even that was a stretch. He supposes they just hadn't counted on Virgil's panic response. Logan and Patton's mutual crushes were the worst kept secret within the apartment, except, it seems, to Logan and Patton themselves, who were both equally convinced they would be resigned to pining away in misery forever.

"Ah," Virgil says. "I'll, uh. I'll just stay here, then. Where you've tucked me in so nicely."

He waits patiently, trying not to spontaneously combust, and adds, "You, um. You can get off of me now, Roman, you've got me convinced."

"Oh!" Roman says, and he draws back, clearing his throat as he awkwardly clambers off of Virgil. "Of course. Ah. Sleep well."

A little cold, very conscious of his bare chest, Virgil draws the blankets around himself tighter and turns back onto his side. Distantly, he sees Roman going to where Logan is standing in the doorway, and he can hear the low murmur of Logan's voice, too soft for him to catch, but he can definitely see the way Roman's shoving his shoulder as they walk away.

When he's certain that they're out of sight, Virgil turns his face into the pillow and screams a little.

2 DAYS TO CHRISTMAS

In the morning—actually the morning, it's a Christmas miracle—Virgil rolls out of bed and tugs on a shirt, this time, before slouching to the kitchen.

"Mornin', kiddo!"

A warm mug is pressed into his hands. Virgil doesn't even look to see what it is before immediately working on transferring the contents of the mug into his body, right now. Bless Patton, it's coffee, because Patton knows that Virgil would chug an entire pitcher of coffee if given the chance.

When he breaks to breathe, he makes a grunting noise of greeting at Patton, who smiles and asks if he wants eggs or cereal. 

"Whatever you're having," Virgil mumbles, and starts drinking more of his coffee. He glances around the kitchen surreptitiously—there are no obvious signs of damage, which means Roman kept his promise.

Patton goes about pouring them two bowls of artificially bright cereal, and Virgil pours himself another mug of coffee.

"Good morning!" Roman trills, swooping into the kitchen with all of his usual obnoxious morning-person-ness. Virgil, huddling over his cereal bowl, is suddenly very conscious of his unbrushed rat's nest of hair. He makes another sound of greeting that could be perceived as friendly.

Roman angles his smile at Virgil, and Virgil tries his best not to choke on his cereal. Roman probably knows exactly disarming he is, and he certainly isn't above flirting to get out of trouble, as shown by the last science experiment mishap/sweet fucking fuck, you idiots, we're going to lose our deposit, and my mind, and then our lives, in that order/time the landlord marched in to have a talk with Roman and staggered out looking like he'd seen the face of God. How does he not even look slightly disastrous in the mornings, life is unfair.

"What's the plan for today, Padre?" Roman's asking, making himself a mug of tea, or whatever, because Roman's a functional adult who's severed his ties to caffeine, whereas Virgil is stuck in a dark and captivating affair with it. 

But Patton's frowning at the doorway, fiddling with the sleeves of his cat hoodie, the one Logan had gotten him after a hard week that turned into a hard couple of months, and he has subsequently worn religiously. "That's odd," he says, in an undertone. "Usually Logan's up by now, I wonder if he's sick?" He turns his big, doe eyes onto Virgil. "Did he look sick yesterday?"

Virgil opens his mouth to suggest that maybe Logan's tired because he was up at 4 AM trying to clandestinely make something for Patton with Roman, but Roman's already winding his arm around Patton's shoulder, shooting Virgil a look as he does so. 

"Maybe our resident Einstein's just taking a bit more rest, hm? It is break, after all. I'm sure he'll love whatever idea you've got planned for us." Roman squeezes Patton's shoulder, shaking him a little bit, comfortingly. 

"You think so?" Patton says, a little breathless, looking like his eyes will start glimmering like some kind of anime protagonist any second now.

At that moment, Virgil manages to look out into the hallway, and leans hard enough to see Logan, who is straightening his necktie and staring at himself in the mirror. Virgil presses his lips together to keep from laughing. Primping? Roman's style, definitely. But not Logan's. Unless—

"Hey, Patton, he's coming down the hallway," Virgil says loudly.

Logan jumps in the hallway, glowers at Virgil as he weakly smooths his hair back, and then clears his throat, striding into the kitchen. He goes straight to the fridge, pulling out that niche organic jam that Patton bought once and is now a permanent staple on their shopping list because it was a jam that both Roman and Logan actually liked. He places two slices of bread into the toaster, and pours himself a mug of dark, bitter coffee.

"What were you saying, Patton?" Logan says, attention on the toaster so he can't see the aggressive heart eyes Patton is sending at his back. Virgil's phone buzzes, and he glances down at it.

sir sing-a-lot: can we shove them under some mistletoe today?

Virgil's lips twitch, and he smirks at Roman in agreement, rolling his eyes. 

dark and stormy knight: honestly if i have to endure another logan monologue about "feeLINGS????" i might actually go full rom-com and lock them in a closet together

Roman snorts, inelegantly. Virgil might die, it's one of the cutest sounds he's ever heard. The "You Shit, You're In Love With Roman And Now You're Resigned To Suffering In Silence Here Are All The Reasons" has that sound on it like fifty times, but Virgil doesn't care, it's going on there again.

"Well," Patton says, straightening himself up, "There's this thing me and my friends used to do as kids, and I thought it could be fun, you know, to make sure we all get into the Christmas spirit!"

There might be someone who would deny Patton something when he's looking so excited, but that person absolutely did not live in this apartment building.

"Sounds fantastic!"

"Fine by me."

"Adequate."

Patton laughs, looking delighted and a little confused. "I haven't even told you all what it is yet!"

"Doesn't matter," Roman declares. "Logan decided what we did yesterday, Virgil decided the day before, and I've got dibs on tomorrow. Today is your day, Pat."

They did. Logan decided on going to see a rendition of A Christmas Carol, an option Roman had joyously agreed with, and then they'd had a group dinner after that. Virgil's day had been marathoning Christmas movies, munching on popcorn and candy canes and Patton's cookies. 

Logan nods from where he's smearing copious amounts of jam over his toast. Virgil is busy slurping the last of his coffee, but he manages to give a thumbs-up of agreement.

"Okay," Patton says, after everyone's finished their breakfasts, and holds out a Santa's hat. "Everyone, take a name! If you get your own, put it back."

The other three shuffle around, and Logan sticks his hand in first, then Roman, then Virgil, then Patton. Of course, Patton draws his own name, so they have to do it all again, and Virgil glances at the name scrawled in Patton's sloppy print. Logan.

"Everyone got it?" Patton says, and the other three nod. "Okay, who's got who?"

They all blink.

"I thought this was secret Santa," Virgil says.

"No, it's Not-So-Secret Santa, there's a twist," Patton says happily. "See, look, I got you, Virgil."

"I got Patton," Roman says.

"Logan," Virgil says.

"Roman," Logan says, holding up the scrap of paper as evidence.

"Ooh, that works out so well!" Patton squeaks happily. "Okay, so the rules of Not-So-Secret Santa are pretty easy to follow. Since you've got me, Roman, and Virgil's got Logan, you two are on a team!" 

A team. On a team with Roman. Virgil doesn't care if Patton tells them the rules to Not-So-Secret-Santa are to immediately punch your person in the face, he will break Logan's nose if it means he spends extended alone time with Roman. Logan's a bro, he'd understand, he'd probably do the same to Virgil to ensure alone time with Patton.

"So that means you and me are together, Logan," Patton says, and they take a moment to exchange Totally Platonic Longing Eye Contact Between Best Buddies, before Patton clears his throat and looks back down at his scrap of paper, then at Virgil and Roman. 

"Anyways," he says, "there's a dollar limit—five or ten, ideally—and a time limit, too, but we'll decide on that when we get to the mall and see how busy it is. We just get a gift—something small, or cheap, or funny, or something you think the person would like, that's all."

Oh God, the mall. Two days before Christmas. A Sunday. It's going to be a zoo.

"So get thinking, and get dressed!" Patton says happily. "We'll head out once everyone's ready."

Right. A cheap gift for Logan. What would Logan even want? Logan's one of the least materialistic person he's met. 

A vision blooms in his mind, rapidly, and Virgil feels himself grinning as he reaches for his usual hoodie. It's perfect. It's wonderful.

"Dear God, you look absolutely unholy," Roman comments as they both step into the living room, carefully fastening a bright red scarf around his neck. Virgil narrowly avoids stepping into the Christmas tree, as he has been since Patton put it up. The things is mostly decorated with a sparse collection of ornaments Patton and Roman made in their spare time, the chain of colored paper Virgil and Logan had spent a long, dull day making that loops around the tree three times, and truly obnoxious amounts of tinsel and fake snow. It's horrific. Virgil loves it. 

"I've just thought of the perfect gift for Logan," Virgil says brightly. "It's just a matter of making sure they've actually got it."

Roman grins at him, a little confused but happy nonetheless, but Logan and Patton are stepping into the living room, and they all bundle into Patton's car. Patton puts on some CD of instrumental Christmas music that Logan loves, because he's super gone and has probably listened to it sappily whilst drawing hearts and doodling Logan into all his notebooks. Logan smiles when he hears it, and Patton looks as if he is about to ascend through the roof of the car.

Virgil looks down at his phone when it buzzes.

sir sing-a-lot: ffs please don't tell me that he put this on because of logan sir sing-a-lot: wait, of course he did sir sing-a-lot: because they're in LOOOOOOOOOOOVE 

dark and stormy knight: how much you wanna bet that they're late meeting us because of all the breaks they have to take to stare into each other's eyes

He glances over as Roman's phone buzzes, and watches him grin at the screen. Virgil directs his own little smile towards his phone screen.

sir sing-a-lot: i think we have a Holiday Mission, Brendon Urie

If he wasn't in the same car as Roman, he would absolutely be pressing a hand to his chest in shocked awe and flattery. As it is, this is going on the "You Shit, You're In Love With Roman And Now You're Resigned To Suffering In Silence Here Are All The Reasons" list.

dark and stormy knight: first of all i am not worthy second of all ???

sir sing-a-lot: Operation Mistletoe sir sing-a-lot: i promise you that by the time school resumes the nerds will be making lovey-dovey eyes at each other with full knowledge that the other likes them back, and so hopefully they will contain their sap to their own rooms

dark and stormy knight: you have to do literally nothing to convince me

sir sing-a-lot: so clearly the first step is this shopping trip, but how much can we coordinate if we're shopping? 

Virgil angles a look at Roman, who's staring at him, eyebrows lifted.

dark and stormy knight: so what do you propose?

 If he's judging by the state of the parking lot, Virgil would say they're completely and totally fucked. He takes a couple seconds to draw some deep breaths before they all exit the car, because crowds aren't exactly his favorite thing, much less driven-mad-by-holidays crowds, but he isn't going to be the person to strike down all the fun. He can handle this.

Suddenly, someone's hand is around his wrist, and he hears Roman shout, "COME ON, VIRGIL!"

He angles a look back at Patton and Logan, but all they do is send him equally coordinated winks, because Virgil had freaked out in front of Logan about the "You Shit, You're In Love With Roman And Now You're Resigned To Suffering In Silence Here Are All The Reasons" list and Logan had called in Patton in a panic about emotions and also Virgil's anxiety, so there's no help at all there.

He doesn't have time to reflect on that before Roman's pulling him, half-running through the parking lot, and into the door, where Roman adjusts so he's holding Virgil's hand, everything is FINE—

"Okay," Roman says brightly, "if I recall correctly, your gift for Logan's over this way, come on, hurry, we have to lose them—"

"We don't have to lose them, they're walking across the parking lot like normal people," Virgil complains, but he follows along to where Roman's pulling him.

Down ten dollars and hiding his purchase in a shopping bag, Virgil trails after Roman as he trawls the various stands for the perfect gift for Patton. It doesn't take him very long to find one, and the various things needed to dress it up to Roman's standards, and Roman's leading him to a relatively quiet alcove. Passing suburban mothers give them the stink-eye, because clearly two college-aged boys in a small space could mean nothing good.

"Okay," Roman says, hands on his hips. "So, first things first, we need to find out where Patton and Logan are, and then sneak up on them."

"So how do we find Patton," Virgil muses.

Roman pauses, tilting his hip, and then snaps his fingers. "I've got a plan."

Five minutes later, Virgil is being glowered at by a woman who is juggling two babies, but he cannot bring himself to care, as Roman is pressed into his side.

"If this doesn't work we're going back to my plan," Virgil grumbles, which is going back to the car, locking themselves inside it, and leaving Logan and Patton to wander the mall for them for however long Roman and Virgil can stick it out.

"It'll work, trust me," Roman says confidently, glancing down at his phone and then scanning the food court, and then immediately whacking Virgil's shoulder in excitement. "See, what did I tell you!"

There, at the edges of a line for the cookie booth Roman Snapchatted to Patton, are Patton and Logan.

"Princey, I take back all my words of doubt," Virgil breathes. God, he really shouldn't have doubted it—cookies were Patton's ultimate vice.

"As you should," Roman preens, and then, "What do you think they're talking about?"

Virgil flattens his voice into his best Logan impression. "Cookies? Anything you desire, Patton."

"Oh, Logan," Roman catches on, sending the bounce factor in his voice to over nine thousand, "The only thing I could possibly love more in this world than these cookies is yo-ouu!" His voice goes into a ridiculously high-pitched Mariah Carey impression, and Virgil has to muffle his laughter against his hoodie sleeves. 

They cycle through a variety of topics that Logan and Patton may or may not have been discussing, including: how dashing, suave, and debonair Roman is, how cool and edgy Virgil is, the possibilities of eloping to Vegas, how they were going to give Virgil and Roman all of their winnings from Vegas, and the dog they were all going to adopt right after this.

Logan and Patton eventually get close enough that they can hear them, though, and Roman and Virgil duck down even lower, shushing each other, still giggling a little.

"—think Roman and Virgil are doing, anyways?"

Like that, the laughter's gone. Please don't say anything about my crush on Roman, please don't say anything about my crush on Roman, Virgil thinks, his latest attempts at telepathy. God, that would be the worst reveal ever, and already Virgil is starting to hold his breath.

"Well, it's not last year," Patton says, "They've come a long way, haven't they?"

They share a laugh. Virgil doesn't think Roman's breathing, either.

"They have," Logan agrees. "I thought that living in the same apartment would've aggregated their relationship, not softened it."

"It did at first, though," Patton says. "Remember that time they were yelling at each other, and I was kind of upset and you took me out for milkshakes?"

Roman and Virgil exchange a look of surprise. The fact that neither of them had heard about this—

"At one AM," Logan says, voice a little softer, the way it only ever softens around Patton. "And we got cookies from that late-night bakery and parked on the roof of one of the parking garages."

Roman's hand grips his upper arm, and Virgil looks at him. THAT SOUNDS LIKE A DATE, Roman mouths exaggeratedly, and Virgil nods in agreement.

"And we sat on the hood of your car, and you told me all about—"

"—the planet's rotation slowing down because of tidal forces. I remember."

They're staring into each other's eyes, and seriously, how the hell do they not understand that they're in love with each other, Virgil's going to knock their heads together if Operation Mistletoe doesn't work. But Roman's never broken a promise to him, and then the vendor's calling them forwards, and Logan's already digging out his wallet.

"Logan, you don't have to—"

"I want to," Logan says, stubborn, and that—hits Virgil in a way he didn't expect. Because Logan runs budgets five times over, goes down to argue with the admission's office on a monthly basis about his various scholarships and tuition costs, pinches pennies like his life depends on it. And Patton knows it. They all do.  

"Well," Patton says, soft. "Only if you let me buy you coffee later."

Logan doesn't respond, only hands Patton his cookie. Patton's smiling, happy and a little sad, and Logan clears his throat.

"So, do you have any ideas on what to get Virgil? I'm pretty sure I know what I'll get Roman."

Roman tugs at Virgil's arm, and they hustle as discreetly as they can after Logan and Patton. It takes a little while to shake off the sense of seriousness that settled over them before, but it only takes Patton innocently lifting up an electrically pink hoodie and asking Logan, "For Virgil?" to send Roman into hysteric laughter.

Virgil shoves him, and apparently it sends him into a grandma, and the grandma goes flying into the mall Santa display, bumping her against the sleigh and sending the presents in the sack on the sleigh flying. A swarm of mall elves descend upon them and immediately threaten escorting them from the premises if they insist on causing trouble. Being rounded up by eight people in curved shoes and belled hats just makes Roman laugh harder as Virgil desperately apologizes and hopes that neither Logan or Patton look to see what the disturbance is.

Virgil gets his revenge, though, when Logan dryly suggests to Patton that he could buy Roman some music that isn't Broadway or Disney in addition to his other gift, to expand his horizons, and Roman looks so offended that Virgil chokes on his own spit laughing at him, which makes Roman thump on the back, then rub his hand up and down his shoulders.

"You—your face," Virgil wheezes into his hoodie sleeves, and at last manages to compose himself, straightening to stand, Roman's hand still gentle between his shoulder blades, which stretches to his arm wrapped around his shoulder, tugging him in for a friendly little hug. 

Or at least, that's how he's sure Roman thinks of it. Virgil's heart is doing a happy little tap dance in his chest, complete with overenthusiastic jazz hands, and Virgil lets himself soak in it, just for a few seconds. 

Then he pulls away, looking around. "Did we lose them?"

Roman curses, stepping back and turning in a circle, before both of their phones buzz.

sunshine personified: hey there!! logan and i noticed that you're just behind us! want to stop and exchange gifts in starbucks?? we can walk around some more after if you both want!

"Caught in the act," Roman sighs, and sends a suitably cheery response back. He takes Virgil's hand, and says, "So, we'll walk around more, and maybe conveniently lose them?"

"Sounds good to me," Virgil says, mouth dry. Roman's hand is warm, and his fingers lace neatly between Virgil's. Right on the "You Shit, You're In Love With Roman And Now You're Resigned To Suffering In Silence Here Are All The Reasons" list, then.

Roman looks around, squinting around the crowd. "Starbucks can't be that far from here, can it? Which way is it again?"

They end up doubling back towards the food court, where Patton has somehow snagged them a table and is waving at them enthusiastically as Logan sips on a coffee Virgil's sure Patton bought for him, like he's not entirely sure Patton is real. 

Virgil picks up his order—peppermint mocha, because now his coffee is festive—as Roman beguiles Patton and Logan with the story of how Virgil knocked him into a little old lady, and ended with them being threatened by the elf cops. Virgil flushes and groans in all the right places, even going as far to hide his face in his hands again, and Patton reaches over to rub his shoulders bracingly, and—

It's nice. It's really, really nice. The day's been really nice. The tiny gremlin that lives inside Virgil's brain is just waiting to see what will go wrong, but he ignores it the best he can. The day has been good. He's having fun. He just has to, you know, ignore and repress all of his feelings to ensure that keeps happening. He shouldn't be feeling anxious or nervous or depressed or anything, it's—fine. He should be fine. He is surrounded by people he loves and who love him back and they are having a nice day out.

"Gifts time!" Patton sings, wriggling excitedly in his seat, and he claps his hands. "Should we exchange and open them all at once, or one at a time?"

"One at a time," Roman says, smiling brilliantly, and he holds out his shopping bag to Patton. "For the one who came up with the idea today, hm?"

"Aw, Roman," Patton says, blushingly, and accepts the bag as Roman doffs an imaginary cap. Virgil smiles, trying to make himself really feel it, and decides to narrow his focus on Patton.

Patton squeaks happily over the adorable stuffed kitten Roman bought him, with a sky-blue ribbon-collar ("for accessorizing," Roman declares) and Patton happily squeezes Roman into a little side-hug. 

"So, Virgil, here's yours," Patton says, passing across the plastic bag, and Virgil draws out... a thing? It looks like a tiny stuffed monster.

"It's a worry doll," Patton says, picking it up and opening its mouth. "See, you can write down whatever's stressing you out and put it in its mouth! So, um. So even if you aren't in a place where you can talk about it with us, there's still someone to hear about it, in a way."

Virgil is fully aware that his face is doing something, but he doesn't bother to hide it. God, Virgil doesn't deserve to even be on the same continent as this man. Because Patton knew all of it—the way he was raised by parents who seemed, at best, mostly confused by him, and stepped back from disciplinary action at a young age, because they thought he was a good kid, when in actuality Virgil was just scared to break the rules, overridden by irrational thoughts of getting kicked out and punished. Because Patton knows how Virgil's words get all tangled and and choked up, caught in his throat and in his chest, and how Virgil could barely manage to fumble out a request for help even on his worst days. And Virgil is working on it, he really is, but—

Virgil reaches blindly and grabs onto Patton's wrist, squeezing tight. He doesn't quite want to leap over the table to hug him, so this is going to have to do for now. A corner of his mouth is quirked up in a smile, and he's staring at the hideous little burlap monster that's landed between them—and then he looks up at Patton.

"Thank you," he says, and he's proud that his voice comes out sounding only a little croakier than normal. 

Patton's hand grabs his wrist back, and he squeezes tight, voice warm and gentle. "You are so very welcome, Virgil."

They both squeeze one more time, and Virgil draws back first, clearing his throat and gathering the little worry monster to his chest, avoiding everyone's eyes as he downs about half of his coffee. When he feels slightly more normal, and also like he's about to pass out from air shortage, he resurfaces, clears his throat, and shoves the shopping bag at Logan. He could really use a laugh just now, to break the tension.

Logan's brow creases as he looks into the bag, and creases further as he draws out his gift.

"What is this," he says flatly, staring at it.

"It's an emoji pillow," Virgil says, inordinately pleased with himself. 

Logan turns it around, as if to compare the done-ness of his face to the crying-laughing hysteria of the pillow.

"Thanks," Logan says. "I hate it."

And that's it, the deadpan needed to snap the tension—Virgil starts laughing first, shortly followed by Patton, and Roman's booming laughter does Logan in—his straight face cracks, and he starts to laugh, too, looking resignedly at the pillow and then back at Virgil and at the pillow again, but Virgil's gone on the certain type of laughter that only comes after someone has come very close to crying. 

As their laughter is dying down, Logan, smirking, hands over his bag to Roman, who unwraps it with glee, and blinks, confused, pulling out a gold-backed mirror, glancing into it and back at Logan.

"A mirror?" Roman says.

"Truly, you'd like nothing more than to receive yourself," Logan says, and Roman's free hand flies to his chest and there's a reappearance of his offended face, and Virgil's cackling at him again, arm wrapped tight around his stomach, cheeks hurting from smiling so wide.

"Look," Patton says, holding the emoji pillow next to Virgil's face, "it's you!"

That sets everyone off, then, and Virgil can't even bring himself to care that there are hordes of people turning to stare at the four college boys guffawing stupidly at an emoji pillow.

Yeah. It's a nice day out.

CHRISTMAS EVE

"Oh, what a beautiful mooooooorr-ning! Oh what a beautiful day! I got a beautiful feeeeeeeeeeeeeling! Everything's going my way!"

Virgil jerks awake, and it takes him a few moments to comprehend what is going on just then.

Roman, who is currently holding a travel cup of coffee directly under his nose, must have serenaded him awake, which, his voice, god fucking dammit, and also he must have been out already, because he looks all dashingly windswept and handsome, cheeks a little flushed from the cold, fuck Virgil's life.

Virgil accepts the coffee and goes about putting the majority of it into his body as fast as he can, and emerges, blinking at him and making a hand gesture that he hopes conveys explain.

"I've decided what I'm doing today, and it will graciously go towards Operation Mistletoe," Roman declares grandly. "Of course, if you're uncomfortable with it, we can always brainstorm, but I really think—"

Virgil grunts at him, gestures a go on, and starts drinking the rest of his coffee. Roman waits patiently until he surfaces again.

"A Christmas party," Roman blurts out, and Virgil blinks at him.

"A what," he says, voice a growl, roughened from sleep. 

"It won't be anything too crazy," Roman adds soothingly. "Just some theater people, maybe some of Logan's nerd friends, and some people Patton knows. Some mistletoe, a bit of a tipsy confession, and we've got a classic rom-com on our hands."

Virgil blinks. He's pretty sure there's dried drool on his face, and he's shirtless again. Why does Roman always see him at this time of day.

Roman leans in closer, and adds, soft and beseeching, "Virgil, I promise, if you aren't comfortable, I won't do it, we can make it something else—"

Promise. Roman has never, ever broken a promise for as long as Virgil has known him. Roman takes his word very seriously. It's on the "You Shit, You're In Love With Roman And Now You're Resigned To Suffering In Silence Here Are All The Reasons" list. It's one of the things Virgil really admires about him, crush aside.

Virgil takes a second, and says, "Promise me I won't be stuck with clean-up?"

"Promise!" He practically sings. "I'll handle all of it, Virgil, you're just in charge of making sure that they're in the same room as each other. They'll gravitate to each other anyways. Oh, this will be wonderful," he declares, and whirls his way out of Virgil's room, leaving Virgil to blink at his coffee and belatedly scrub a hand up and down his face.

When Virgil finally emerges from his room, Patton and Logan are sitting at the table as Roman pitches his party proposal, in full Dads mode.

"Virgil said he was okay with it, too, so it's just you two to agree," Roman adds, nodding to Virgil, and Patton and Logan both swivel to look at him.

"Are you?" Patton says.

"Yeah," Virgil says, pouring himself another mug. "Sounds fun. Roman said it wouldn't be too big."

He can practically hear their exchanged glances—the "Virgil Agreed to Socialization!" one—and Patton says slowly, "Well, as long as you know that since it's your party—"

"My cleanup, yes, I know, Virgil's already told me," Roman says brightly. "Invite anyone you want, it'll be just a lowkey little thing—"

Roman picks up his phone, looking like the world's busiest little social butterfly, and Virgil slurps down more coffee. They're in for an interesting day, and an interesting night. If Roman's plan goes as he thinks it will, then Operation Mistletoe will be done. Another promise kept.

For most of the day, Virgil barricades himself in his room. It's nothing personal against any of his roommates, and they all knew it. If there's going to be a big social event, then Virgil needs to charge for it. So he spends most of his day watching A Nightmare Before Christmas, scrolling through social media, and listening to his favorite albums. He gets a text from Roman to start expecting people at 9, which really meant 9:30, but regardless, he drags himself out of bed at 8 to start getting ready.

Eyeliner, eyeshadow, and because Virgil's leaning into the Jack Skellington today, he goes with a dark lip stain. The theater people Roman's invited will love it. He tugs on an outfit—dark ripped jeans, black t-shirt, Christmas sweater shockingly similar in design to his favorite hoodie, gutterstomping black boots—and slouches out of his room, into the living room.

He takes a couple seconds to stare, his brain currently blaring "YOU SHIT, YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH ROMAN AND NOW YOU'RE RESIGNED TO SUFFERING IN SILENCE HERE ARE ALL THE REASONS" as his eyes sweep up and down what he can see of Roman's outfit, from behind—he's wearing a tight red button-up with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, a well-tailored pair of black slacks, the only ridiculous, incongruous thing with his outfit is his own pair of boots—more suited for adventuring than gutterstomping. 

Virgil clears his throat, tearing his eyes towards where Roman's eyes would be, and says, "Anything I can do to help?"

Roman spins, and his eyes do an up-down-up-down-up-down-up over Virgil's outfit, coming to rest on his makeup. Virgil shifts—he's second-guessing it already, maybe he just looks like an idiot, he can wipe it off, and change his whole outfit too, actually.

"Is it too—?" Virgil starts, and Roman practically shouts, "NO!" so loudly Virgil startles a little.

"I mean, ah, no," Roman says. "It's perfect. You look perfect."

Virgil scuffs the toe of his boot along the floor, clears his throat, and swallows, before he repeats to his feet, "Anything I can do to help?"

"Patton might need help," Roman says, "you should check."

Virgil nods, and heads to the kitchen, where Patton is surrounded by plates of cookies, and he's setting a tray of cookies onto the stove, presumably to cool.

"Anything I can do to help?" Virgil repeats, and Patton whirls around.

He's wearing a sweater that declares Bah Humpug, with a picture of a pug wearing a santa hat on it. It's bedazzled. Very adorable. 

"Look at you, kiddo, that makeup's so neat!" Patton exclaims. "We're just waiting on this last tray to cool, really, but maybe you could open up that pack of cups over there and set them on the table—?"

Virgil nods, and tears open the plastic surrounding the red solo cups. He places them carefully on the table that holds a modest selection of alcohol, including a bowl full of punch and supplies to make eggnog. Virgil straightens the bottles, cursory, and starts a conversation with Patton about dogs and Christmas. Patton's plating the cookies when Logan's voice comes floating down the halls.

"I look ridiculous," he complains.

"You look hot as hell, shut up, I wish I had your arms," Roman responds.

Virgil and Patton exchange looks, and Patton's toting the plate out into the living room, Virgil hot on his heels. 

Roman's saying, "Logan, really, cut loose, you deserve it," and suddenly they veer into sight from Logan's room. "Tell Logan he looks hot," Roman complains.

Logan's wearing...something that definitely came out of Roman's closet. It's a white shirt, short-sleeved, almost like the usual style of polo shirt that he usually wore, but then Virgil noticed the mesh. It's almost a classy amount of mesh, if such a thing exists, in a sort of floral pattern. Belatedly, he realizes that Logan's wearing makeup, too, something that makes him look even sharper and more angular, and a bit of glitter? It works for him. It works for him really, really well.

There's a clatter, and Virgil turns a little to see Patton, slack-jawed, the plate of cookies on the ground, the cookies hopelessly crushed. Patton is not even slightly moving to pick them up.

Logan's arms go to awkwardly cross over his chest, before he seems to remember something, and instead shoves his fists into his pockets, shoulders hunched.

"Uh," Patton says, "You, uh. You look. Uhm. Good!" He says, proud of himself for seizing on a word. "Really. Really good. Uh."

Logan straightens his posture, a little. "Really," he says, uncharacteristically timid.

Virgil says, "That style... really works on you."

"What, yeah, that," Patton agrees, and actually shakes himself, and looks down at the plate. "Oh no, the cookies!"

He crouches to pick them up, and Roman shoves Logan forwards.

"Logan, help Patton, I've just remembered I want Virgil's advice on the sound system," Roman says cheerfully, and suddenly Roman's grabbing Virgil's sleeve and yanking him into the living room.

"That's the closest I've ever seen Patton to giving bedroom eyes," Roman hisses into his ear.

"How did you convince Logan do a makeover sequence?" Virgil says.

Roman looks very innocent, and says, "Logan might be a couple shots ahead of us, and also I may have told him that Patton likes his arms. So."

"You're evil," Virgil snickers.

"I'm going to make Operation Mistletoe happen," Roman says. "It'll be a goddamn Christmas miracle."

"You didn't actually want my opinion on the sound system, did you?"

"Nope, sorry. We're leaving them alone together as much as we possibly can this evening, Gerard, that was the plan."

"What is it with you and these flattering nicknames lately," Virgil says.

Roman grins like a shark, all teeth, and doesn't say a word. 

It doesn't take all that long for people to show up—they make a beeline for the booze, which is unsurprising, and Roman presses a drink into his hands.

"I know you're not for mingling, so do what you want," he says. "But Mistletoe will happen. Discourage anyone flirting with either of them."

Virgil nods, mission received, and goes to give his scariest snarling face to anyone who tries to approach Logan.

He really only has to snarl at two people, considering Logan's locked up in a corner with Patton most of the time anyways, and so Virgil ends up drifting around the edges of the room, eyes narrowed.

The party's still filling up, people arriving every couple of minutes, and Roman's the life of the party, greeting people, directing them towards the drinks and snacks, laughing and cracking jokes. Virgil feels at peace, at least, as at peace as he ever does at parties—people are giving him space, he can see the people he came with, this is his home turf. 

The music is mostly in the background, no one dancing yet, people collected in clusters and filling themselves up on alcohol and Patton's snacks. Virgil figures he may as well follow their example. He goes to grab a cookie.

At some point between Virgil going to the kitchen and coming back out with a half-eaten snowman in his hands, the theater horde has taken over the sound system, and some song from La-La Land is playing as they're all sitting in a loose circle. Someone has brought some of the alcohol out from the kitchen, so it's more easily accessible. It's easy to see why.

"Who is most likely," muses a girl Virgil recognizes from a few of Roman's shows, "To shoplift?" 

Everyone points to someone, with a few people more common than others. The ones with more people curse a little before they start to drink. Roman's eyes catch on his and they brighten, and he waves Virgil over to sit next to him.

"What's this?" Virgil asks, tucking his legs in to criss-cross.

"Who's most likely," Roman says. "Basically, ask a question, and if two people point at you, you have to take two drinks. Or however many people, you have to take that many drinks."

Virgil nods. Self-explanatory enough.

"You good to play?" Roman asks.

"Yeah, sounds fun," Virgil says.

There are several things that he miscalculates, which he realizes as people are complaining about this game and demanding a new one.

One, it's hot in here, with the increasing amount of human body heat and the fact that he wore a sweater. Two, he's a lightweight regardless, but three, considering how rarely he drinks, his tolerance is pretty shit anyways.

Basically, he's one and a half mixed drinks in, and he's reached a point of tipsy where he's much more... smiley. His thoughts are a little looser, slipping away from him so much easier than they usually did, and things were just a bit funnier. Not drunk, not even close, but it's enough of a reality check that he decides to add more mixer and less alcohol to his next drink.

Patton and Logan sit next to them for the next game, and Virgil grins, bumping shoulders with Patton in camaraderie. 

The people have settled on sip sip shot, which is really just making Virgil realize how little he knows about drinking games. But Patton doesn't know either, so that makes him feel less alone. God, he loves Patton. Patton's the best human being on this earth.

"It's like duck duck goose," Roman explains. "Except the duck is sip, which means you sip at your drink. And goose is shot, so you have to chase the person around the circle. If you win, they take the shot. If you lose, you take the shot."

Virgil and Patton both nod in comprehension, and everyone squirms into a tighter circle configuration so there would be optimal running space. Virgil's smiling still. This reminds him of being a kid at recess, except he never had friends when he was that little, so this is just. Even better. 

Someone's hand taps his head. He takes a sip of his drink.

It's a pretty even routine, occasionally broken by yelling and clapping and heckling, but Virgil never gets chosen to be goose, which is just fine by him. However, Roman is, which is much less fine by him, because that means Roman's not sitting next to him anymore. Virgil tries his best not to pout. He's not entirely sure if he succeeds.

The game dissolves a lot like the one before it; people start getting distracted, and branch off on their own, which just causes the whole big group to concave on itself. Just as well; Virgil's finished his drink.

"Virgil!"

He turns, and grins as he sees Roman, who looks very suddenly knocked off-kilter—most people expect Virgil to be a sullen drunk, or maybe even a handsy one, not a giggly drunk. Roman knows he's a giggly drunk, though, so maybe he just—forgot? Or something.

"Roman!" Virgil says, matching his tone as best as he can, and Roman shakes himself, squeezing between a couple of people.

"I've had an idea, and Valerie's volunteered to help us along," Roman says, gesturing grandly to the girl next to him. "We need to beat Logan and Patton in beer pong."

Virgil blinks. "Um, why?" He's down to destroy Logan, at any time, but this seems like a random idea. But he will win. That much is guaranteed. Virgil is not above cheating to ensure it.

"Because," Valerie says, "the losers have to do body shots off each other."

Virgil is suddenly not so dedicated to winning.

"I'm in," Virgil says, wondering how many throws he can fumble without Roman noticing he's doing it on purpose. Probably a lot. Virgil isn't very athletic. Plus he's tipsy.

Roman turns to Valerie, squeezing her shoulder. "Find Patton and Logan for me? Virgil and I are going to set up the table."

His fingers lace with Virgil's again, and Virgil doesn't bother hiding his smile as Roman tugs them towards the kitchen, as they shuffle around plates to counters and Virgil grabs a stack of red solo cups.

"How many?" He asks.

"Ten each side," Roman says, carefully stacking plates and bowls of snacks on the counter, and Virgil obliges, placing them in careful pyramids. Roman's just filling the cups with punch as Logan and Patton both step through the door, Patton a little wild-eyed, Logan cool with focus.

"Prepare to lose," Patton declares joyously, nudging Virgil in a friendly way as he skips over to his side of the table. Virgil sticks his tongue out at him.

He stands shoulder-to-shoulder with Roman as Roman chivalrously accepts Valerie's offer of a ping-pong ball, before he turns to Virgil, holding it up in front of him.

"Blow on it?" Roman asks, voice low, lashes fluttering, just a little. Virgil notices he has something sparkly and golden on his eyes that he didn't have at the start of the party. "For luck."

Virgil smiles, and obligingly huffs out a warm breath over the ping-pong ball, over Roman's fingers.

"Suck it, losers," Roman declares, pompous, and then immediately sinks the shot. Virgil whoops in encouragement.

Logan rolls his shoulders, angles a glower at them, and then tosses; he misses, and Roman and Virgil both boo him.

The game continues, and as each cup vanishes, people gather round to watch them. There's more heckling and more cheering for each side, but oddly, Virgil doesn't mind the attention, even when he misses more shots than he makes. Logan is horrible enough that it evens out. But it turns out that Patton is actually a secret master at beer pong, so it's mostly Patton and Roman keeping pace with each other. 

They get down to three cups on each side. Roman arches his brows at Logan, before turning and bending over, wiggling his hips enticingly at Logan.

Logan scoffs, shoving his glasses up his nose. "That's not going to work," he says, and then immediately whiffs his shot. "Okay, that worked," he admitted, quiet, as Roman straightens up with a whoop.

"My secret weapon—my ass!" Roman declares proudly, and elbows Virgil, conspiratorial. "Do you know how many games of beer pong I've turned around because I decided to show off my ass?"

Virgil snorts, accepting the ping-pong ball. It is a fantastic ass, and it has its own little carefully detailed section on the "You Shit, You're In Love With Roman And Now You're Resigned To Suffering In Silence Here Are All The Reasons" list, but he's not about to inflate Roman's ego right now.

Patton's version of a distraction is screaming a curse word, which shocks Virgil so terribly he ends up accidentally throwing the ping-pong ball into a bystander's face.

"Patton, I am surprised at you!" Roman teases, and Patton, flushing, just shrugs, tossing him the ping-pong ball.

"We do what we need to do," Patton says. 

Logan starts rapping Blackalicious' Alphabet Aerobics, and although it is a fantastic sight, it doesn't faze Roman, who sinks his shot, and smacks his hand against Virgil in a celebratory high-five. It does, however, derail the game for a solid three minutes, as some theater kids start beatboxing for Logan, and cheer him on, dancing along as Logan finishes the rap with a smug little smirk, people clapping him on the back and whooping at him.

Which means it's time for Virgil to distract Patton. 

"WHEN I WAS, A YOUNG BOY," Virgil screams at the top of his lungs, at a pitch that makes him sound at best like a wailing cat, and Roman bends double, cackling, even as Virgil continues shouting the lyrics to "Welcome to the Black Parade," miming the instruments and headbanging as hard as he possibly can. A few of the gothier-looking theater kids join in, unable to resist the call of their people, and Virgil is lost in the truly unique sound of a horde of drunk college emos trying their best to imitate guitars with truly horrible screeches.

"Shake it off, Pat, shake it off!" Logan declares, clapping his hands on Patton's shoulders and shaking him a little, but it was shitty timing for them, because it was right at the apex of Virgil's killer air guitar solo.

"WE'LL CARRY ON! WE'LL CAAAARRYYY OOOON! AND THOUGH YOU'RE DEAD AND GONE, BELIEVE ME—"

Patton throws. Bounce. It hits the edge of a cup and clatters off, and the people roar. Two to three.

"That's okay, we'll get 'em next!" Logan declares, arm soundly around Patton's shoulders. Patton looks too delighted by this development to really be upset about missing his shot.

Roman sways a little on his feet, and Virgil reaches out, touching his hip to steady him, and leans in close.

"You got this," Virgil breathes into his ear.

Roman nods, looking the most serious he has ever looked, takes aim, and tosses the ball.

It sails in a beautiful rainbow arch, landing in the left cup.

The crowd around them screams. Three-one. Roman's pumping his fist in the air in victory as the crowd heckles Logan, telling him to drink, but Virgil doesn't care, because Roman's grinning at Virgil, who grins back and wraps a happy arm around his shoulders, pressing his nose into Roman's cheek in a moment of perfectly happy drunken camaraderie.

"It's on!" Logan declares, squashing the cup and dropping it at his feet, as he and Patton had for the previous eight. "It's on!" He bumps hips with Patton, and leans forwards exaggeratedly, squinting at the cups as people yell "send it back!" at him.

"Who even WAS Rosalind Franklin," Roman yells, but it doesn't deter Logan—he sinks it, and Virgil groans, taking the cup and shaking out the ping-pong ball before he starts to drink, Logan screaming, "She was a VISIONARY, that's who!" in the background.

Virgil has seen a drunk Logan get emotional over Rosalind Franklin, so maybe this wasn't the best path to start him down on, but Virgil crushes the cup and drops it, shaking out his hands and rolling his shoulders. Last cup. Two to one.

Roman's hands are bracing on his shoulders, squeezing, before he leans into Virgil's space, hand drifting down to his waist to squeeze, just a little, wow, this is not good for his focus.

"Shut your eyes," Roman says, and Virgil lets his eyes slide shut, blocking out the sight of the crowd, of Logan and Patton, of Roman in his space. All he can feel is the artificial warmth from the alcohol pooled in his belly, and Roman's hands on him, steadying and warm.

"Take a deep breath," Roman intones, and Virgil does as he says, taking a deep, even breath in and letting it out, squaring his shoulders. 

"Let it all fall away," Roman says into his ear. "The crowd's not even there. Logan and Patton aren't even there. It's just you, and the ball."

And you, Virgil wants to say. No matter what Virgil tries, he can't block out Roman. 

"Now," Roman says, "open your eyes, focus on that cup, and crush it. If you sink it, I promise I'll let you blast any emo song you want."

Virgil opens his eyes. He spins the ball in his fingers, and hesitates, before holding it up to Roman.

"For luck," Virgil says, looking at him through his lashes. Roman smiles, brings Virgil's hand to his mouth and kisses his fingers, before meeting eyes with Virgil as he blows out a cool breath, mouth a perfect o shape.

Virgil tries his best to smile like that hasn't affected him at all, and turns to face the table, narrowing his eyes.

"Just you, and the ball, and the cup," Roman says, hand drifting to the small of Virgil's back.

And you, and you, and you, Virgil thinks, and tosses the ball.

The resulting scream is deafening.

"VIRGIL!" Roman screams, and Virgil turns to face him, mouth open a little in astonishment. "VIRGIL, YOU BEAUTIFUL MAN, YOU DID IT!"

Virgil lets out an odd, aborted half-laugh of astonishment. "I did it?"

Rather than answer, Roman's arms close around him, and suddenly, the room is flying, Roman's arms tight around him as he's spun in the air, and Virgil's laughing, the world a technicolor bleed of colors and Roman's arms keeping him secure and safe and happy, and it's over too soon, but Virgil wraps his arms around Roman's shoulders, hugging him back, tight, trying to communicate all of his complicated feelings through this one hug.

"You're the best teammate ever, you know?" Virgil says into his ear, and draws back, but not enough to unwind his arms from Roman's neck.

Roman's about to say something, opening his mouth, one of his hands curling around Virgil's wrists as if to keep him there, when Valerie yells "BODY SHOTS!" and Roman and Virgil both turn away from each other with a start, looking over to where Patton's fidgeting a little and Logan's trying not to squirm as Valerie applies the salt to his neck.

"Your lime," Valerie says, and Logan sticks it in his mouth, trying his best not to move too much, as there's a shot glass tucked into his waistband.

"PAT-TON, PAT-TON, PAT-TON," people start to chant as Valerie steps back with an elaborate twirl of her wrist, as if to say the floor is yours, and Patton steps forwards, adjusting his glasses. Logan says something to him, too low for Virgil to hear over the chanting, and Patton shakes his head, before Patton leans forwards, licking a broad stripe up Logan's neck. He drops to his knees, knocking his face into Logan's thigh before managing to close his lips over the shot glass and tipping it back, surging to his feet and sucking the lime from Logan's mouth into his mouth.

"I feel like I just watched my innocence die," Virgil comments, at a loss for other words. Patton winces from the acidity of the lime, and Logan looks—well, he looks like Patton's just hit him with a train, a hand coming up to his neck where Patton licked it.

"What innocence," Roman snorts, and Virgil whacks him a little.

Patton's lying on the kitchen table, though, doing as Valerie directs, grimacing but placing the lime into his mouth, propped up on one elbow, the other hand tugging his sweater away from his neck. Virgil can see why, because now Valerie's pouring the tequila into the hollow of Patton's neck, and Logan still hasn't moved his hand from where Patton licked him, staring at where he's laid out on the table.

Logan screws his face up in determination, though, and licks the salt line on Patton's chest, bending his head to suck the tequila out of the hollow of his throat, and Patton seems like he's about to faint, head tilting back as Logan presses his mouth against his skin. Logan bites the lime from Patton's mouth, snatching it away.

"No, I see what you mean," Roman muses, and Virgil snorts back. Roman tugs on his hand, and says, "C'mon, let's blast your victory song."

Virgil grins, letting himself be led away, and says, "In for some danger tonight, then?"

"Oh, always with you, Virgil," Roman says, looking at him over his shoulder, before leading him to the sound system and grandly presenting Virgil with his phone.

Virgil's tongue pokes through his teeth as he scrolls through Roman's extensive music library, and then he says "Ah!" as he sees the song he wants, pressing play, and his body starts rocking to the beat, an absent-minded bobbing.

The same goths from before come flooding into the living room, and Virgil grins, tilting his head back as he joins their voices in song.

"AM I MOOORE THAN YOU BARGAINED FOR YET?!"

Suddenly, Virgil is twirling, and Roman grins when he stops, their hands twined together again, and Virgil laughs, head tilting forwards, before he tries his best to keep up.

Roman dances like it's a language that Virgil doesn't know, effortless and graceful and—okay, yes, sexy, he looks incredibly sexy when he dances—but Roman always looks like he's having the time of his life whenever he dances, sings, performs, and Virgil finds himself unable to focus on his feet when Roman's beaming like that. Besides, he and Roman are too busy singing along to Fall Out Boy to really pay attention to technique.

Roman's hands are getting sweaty in his, and Virgil's sure his are doing the same, but he can't bring himself to care all that much—watching the way Roman moved, hearing him sing, that was what was taking up his attention at the moment, and all too soon, it ends.

There's the plucking of notes, something Virgil thinks he's heard maybe once or twice before, but Roman's ears practically perk up, spine going straight, and he can see a similar response in all the theater kids.

"Roman!" Valerie's yelling, waving an arm, "I need my dancers for this one!"

Roman turns to look at Virgil, and Virgil waves him off, grinning.

"Go on," Virgil says, "be a big Broadway nerd. I'll be okay."

"Well," Roman says, and squeezes his hands. "If you insist."

"I do," Virgil says, and at last their hands drop, and Virgil wanders off in search of a drink.

When he comes back, canned margarita in hand, Valerie's finishing off "All That Jazz" with all the verve of performing it live in front of a crowd, and Roman is currently helping hoist her into a split, a hand bracing her thigh, the other clinging to her hand, like it's no trouble at all.He hopes no one tramples over their horrible-wonderful tree, or the presents underneath—Patton had tried to get them to wrap all the presents with one wrapping paper per person, to make it more organized, but somehow two other kinds had gotten in there, so it's just a mess of colors and tags. Virgil takes a moment to be thankful for their high ceilings, and settles into an armchair that's been shoved out of the way to enjoy the show. 

Virgil applauds enthusiastically when they finish out the song, along with the theater nerds who didn't know the choreography, the science nerds Logan invited along, and the nerds Patton knew were on campus over break. 

He really should have expected this when Roman said a ton of his theater friends were coming over, because it seems they've landed in Roman's Broadway playlist, people singing and dancing and pretending with imaginary props. They shout for who sings what, swap in and out depending on who knows choreography, and every time, Roman's in the thick of the scrum, belting his heart out, twisting along to choreography and improvising to some degrees of success.

West Side Story's prologue, Roman dancing along to the Jets', snapping and twirling and leaping to his heart's content. 

Pippin, Roman doing his best Fosse as someone Virgil doesn't recognize belts out Glory, his movements, Roman twirling an imaginary cane and doffing an imaginary cap, hips cycling and crooning along in the background.

Sound of Music, Roman charming and serenading Valerie, Valerie hopping along the couches as they duet Sixteen Going on Seventeen, theater people doing a variety of ballroom dances as a form of background dancing.

Grease, Greased Lighting, Roman smoothing his hair back and popping the top few buttons of his shirt, thrusting hips and funny faces and precise gesticulation, and he even sends a wink at Virgil, where he's sipping his drink. Virgil flushes, and smiles a little, hiding it behind the can.

This is the point where Patton and Logan stand on either side of his armchair, and Patton says teasingly, "Having fun, Virgil?"

Virgil tucks his knees up to his chest, and says, "Well, Roman is."

Patton grins, ruffles his hair, and passes him another unopened can of margarita, before grabbing Logan's hand and tugging him off to the kitchen.

Virgil meets eyes with Roman, and Roman's eyes are lit up excitedly as he takes a second to gesture in their direction, before he resumes his number at full enthusiasm.

Footloose, the titular number, and Roman's sweaty and bright and so full of life, glowing with it, and they mostly let the preprogrammed voice handle it, theater kids dancing, goofy and bright, Roman spinning and twirling between partners, trying to dance with everyone, laughing and chattering and bright.

Grease again, Born to Hand Jive, Roman on the periphery as two more people Virgil doesn't know take center stage, swinging and lifting their partners and throwing them, and Virgil would be much more worried if it wasn't for the alcohol. 

Heathers, Freeze Your Brain, and Virgil knows this one, so he stands and sings as everyone does their best dramatic JD, Roman surging over to Virgil as they sing together, trying their best to dance to such depressing lyrics. The song ends, and it leads into one Virgil doesn't know, blinking owlishly at the speakers, dropping his empty can belatedly.

"Rooo-MANNN," Virgil hears at least three people yell, and Roman laughs, messing his hair before he takes center stage, stomping and clapping along to the beat. 

"You guys are never going to let me live this down, are you?" Roman asks the crowd ruefully, and there's a loud cheer of NO, and Roman laughs, ducking his head, before he starts to sing along, poppish and exaggeratedly eager, hips shaking as he claps along.

"LOOK—AT—MY—ASS, LOOK AT MY THIGHS—"

Oh no. Virgil knows what song this is now. And Roman is going all out on the choreography.

"I'M CATNIP TO THE GUYS! THEY CHASE MY TAIL, THEY DROOL AND PANT—WANNA TOUCH THIS BUT THEY CAN'T!"

Virgil is going to have a stroke. 

"ALL THE BOYS WANNA COME AND PLAY," Roman belts, snaps and winks at Virgil, "SNAP MY FINGERS AND THEY OBEY, WHY DO THEY FOLLOW ME ROUND ALL DAY? WATCH ME WHILE I WALK AWAY—"

This is it. This is the day Virgil's soul vacates his body. It's been a good run.

"I BEEEEEEND AND SNAP! FEEL HOW HOT IT'S GETTING!"

Virgil does not need Roman to tell him how hot it's getting, thank you.

"BEEEEEEND AND SNAP! AND WHEN YOU'VE GOT 'EM SWEATING, SPRIIIING THE TRAP! THEY CHEER AND CLAP!"

Clap, clap. Roman's having a great time. Virgil distantly wonders why the theater kids associate the Bend and Snap with Roman, and if he survives this, he will certainly ask him later.

"NO TIGHT MEN, CAN DEFEND, 'GAINST THE BEEEEEEND AND SNAP!"

Distantly, Virgil recalls how Roman said his ass was his secret weapon. He cannot help but agree. He is watching Roman tackle some ass-centric choreography, and it is honestly a wonder as to how Virgil hasn't fainted yet from where he's standing on the fringe of the circle of theater kids surrounding Roman.

But more people are jumping in to fill in parts, but Virgil cannot stop staring at Roman. What the fuck is his life. 

The song both takes forever and is over too soon, and for the first time, Roman steps out from performing as the girls get ready for a rendition of the Cell Block Tango.

He's still grinning, fanning himself. His shirt is soaked with sweat, and he never rebuttoned his shirt, so Virgil can see the top of the expanse of his chest, his hair sweaty. Roman pushes it out of his face.

"Phew!" He declares, and Virgil is trying his hardest to untangle his tongue from the knot it's formed, so instead mutely gestures to the kitchen.

"Drinks, great idea, Virgil," he says, clapping him on the shoulder, and they both go out to the hallway, where Virgil stops dead and whacks Roman on the shoulder, shoving his hand over Roman's mouth when it looks like he's about to start screaming. 

Because Patton has Logan pressed back against the wall, kissing him hard. One of Logan's hands gripping Patton's shoulder to keep him from leaving, the other where Virgil can't see. And Patton's cupping Logan's face with one hand, the other tight on his hip. And they are not stopping.

Virgil yanks Roman into the kitchen before they get caught.

"Holy fucking shit," Roman scream-whispers as soon as they're safely out of sight. "Logan did it!"

"Operation Mistletoe!" Virgil cheers, and Roman cheers back, "Operation Mistletoe!" And they smack a high-five, then Virgil, laughing, surges forwards, hugging him tight.

Roman smells like sweat and cologne. Virgil can feel his still-quick pulse from where he's pushed his face into Roman's neck, and Roman laughs as he hugs Virgil back, a hand bracing the back of his head, an arm strong around his waist.

"You always get so giggly when you're drunk," Roman says, sounding fond. "It's like the natural order's been swapped."

Virgil hesitates, tangling his fingers into Roman's shirt. T hen they shift, so they're still in each other's arms, but staring at each other.

"Well," Virgil says, mouth dry as he fiddles with Roman's collar. "Lowered inhibitions, you know?"

"I know," Roman says.

"Is it weird?" Virgil says.

"You're always weird."

"I—I mean, do you... like it?"

"I always like you, Virgil." Roman says, voice soft, and his eyes are soft too, and this is it, Virgil can feel it, the air heavy with potential. 

Roman's so stupidly beautiful. His eyelids are coated in that glimmering gold that Virgil noticed before, and it brings out all the gold in his eyes, the gold that magnetizes Virgil, like some kind of magic. The sweat on his face glints in the low light, accentuating his cheekbones. He's still smiling. He looks like some kind of beautiful statue come to life.

It's Roman—a year ago, Virgil would have laughed at himself for this, thought someone would have been joking. But he knows Roman so much better now—Roman, who hides his insecurities so well it looks to so many outsiders that he doesn't have any. Roman, who works so hard to make sure that all of his work is perfect and up to his standards. Roman, who's trying to improve himself every day. Roman, with his ridiculous nicknames, and his fancy posing, and constant singing. Roman, who lights up so much whenever there is music, or dancing, or laughter. 

Just. Roman. The "You Shit, You're In Love With Roman And Now You're Resigned To Suffering In Silence Here Are All The Reasons" list is so long and so varied it could be turned into a book, and Virgil finds something new every single day to admire and love about him.

So why can't he say any of this to him? The old, constant frustration, trying to reach inside of himself only to choke on whatever he wants, needs, to say, like he's on the verge of tears the whole time. Like the words trip and stumble on the way to his tongue, and fall into a sixteen car pile-up complete with flames and screaming. And he doesn't want to mess this up.

He really, really doesn't want to mess this up.

"What?" Roman asks, edged in a laugh. "You're staring at me."

Virgil makes a frustrated noise, says, "Words," and then grabs Roman's collar, pulling him forwards, and pressing his lips against Roman's. 

Roman makes a noise of surprise, and Virgil presses closer, lips moving against his.

In all honestly, Virgil thinks tongues are kind of weird, but when his tongue first meets Roman's, that belief goes straight out of the window. The kiss is consuming, and slow; Virgil's in the lead, his tongue pressing against Roman's first, and he could feel Roman's body against his, muscles relaxing, and Virgil tangles his fingers into Roman's sweaty hair because he does not want him to leave. He knows he's inexperienced, but he hopes it's still good for him anyways, because this is amazing. Roman's arms are still around his waist, and he kisses him harder, Roman's mouth hot and insistent, and oh wow, okay, wow—

"Wait," Roman breathes, and then he pulls back. "Wait, wait."

Virgil freezes, and Roman pulls back, staring at him, mouth open. The sight of Virgil's lip stain smeared around his lips, his mouth, gives Virgil a surge of something to his stomach that he wasn't expecting, at all.

"What?" Virgil breathes, and Roman's eyes squeeze shut.

"You're drunk," he groans.

"I don't care," Virgil says, and Roman's hands land on Virgil's wrists, gently tugging his hands from his hair, and his eyes are still closed as he brings Virgil's hands to his shoulders, thumbs rubbing gently at his wrists. He looks—blissful.

"I do," Roman says, and he opens his eyes, meeting Virgil's. "It's—it's important, Virgil, you're—important." He presses a hard kiss against Virgil's left palm, then presses his cheek into Virgil's hand, holding Virgil's hand against his cheek.

You're important. Virgil swallows, slides his thumb along Roman's cheekbone. He loves this stupid noble idiot.

"I—I know how much you hate anyone saying this, but we'll talk later, all right? When you're sobered up. I promise."

Virgil's eyes squeeze shut. I promise. And Roman never breaks a promise.

"But you—I mean—" Virgil huffs out a breath, and says in a rush, "We're, like. On the same page. Right? This isn't—?"

Virgil doesn't get to say what this isn't, because Roman's cupping his face.

"Look at me, please, Virgil," Roman says, and Virgil opens his eyes reluctantly. 

"You're one of the most important people in my life," Roman says, eyes half-lidded. "I didn't—I didn't say anything, because I didn't know if you—and I wanted—I want—"

"What?" Virgil says, his voice hushed.

"You," Roman says, strangled. "I want you."

It doesn't sound sexual, not at all, despite the fact that Virgil had his tongue in Roman's mouth a minute ago. It sounds like Virgil is the beautiful princess that Roman's been questing for, like in some ridiculous Disney movie.

The door to the kitchen opens, and Virgil and Roman leap apart, as if it isn't obvious by looking at Roman's mouth what they've been doing, and someone shouts, "Roman, it's Rent time!"

Roman sighs, looking out at the party, and back at Virgil, eyes full of conflict.

"Go on," Virgil says, soft. "You're the life of the party."

Roman's fingers card through Virgil's hair, and Virgil leans into his touch. "Later," he says. "Later. I—I promise you're not alone in feeling this. It's just—" he smiles, sudden, huge and bright. "You just have the worst timing, Virgil."

Virgil laughs, and steps back. Roman runs a hand through his hair, and heads back out to the living room. 

Virgil's alone in the kitchen. Suddenly, he doesn't want to watch Roman singing. He doesn't really want to talk to anyone just now, actually.

He steps into the hallway—empty now, Logan and Patton must have relocated—head full of confusion, and stops in the bathroom to scrub off his makeup. He slouches quietly into his room, toeing off his boots, wiggling out of his jeans, tossing aside the sweater, and pulls on the ridiculous Peanuts-themed Christmas pajamas Patton got him.

He curls up in his too-big bed, and hugs a spare pillow close.

You're important, you're important, you're important.

CHRISTMAS DAY

Virgil wakes up to a distant headache, a dry mouth, and sweating like a fiend.

He opens his eyes, and the events of the night come rushing back.

Apparently, when Roman said sobered up, he meant first thing in the morning, and by that he meant as soon as you wake up, because Roman, shirtless, has replaced the pillow—a little spoon, and Virgil tries his best to keep his breathing even and calm.

Cool, so Roman decided to come cuddle last night? Awesome, tight, love it. Virgil's not quietly flipping his shit to himself at all.

But—wait—somehow, miracle of miracles, Virgil is awake before Roman. 

Virgil carefully props himself up on his elbow, and resigns himself to waiting to watch Roman wake up. 

He doesn't have to wait very long.

Roman stirs, face scrunching up, and he makes a groaning noise to himself, turning his face into the pillow, only to make another distant noise of complaint. A stretch works its way through his body, like a cat, and Roman blinks his eyes open at last.

"I knew it," Virgil says, sleep having ground down his voice. "There was no way a person was so inhumanely peppy in the mornings."

"Virgil!" Roman says, voice similarly scratchy, and he flips so that they're face to face. "How are you?"

"A little hungover, a lot nervous," Virgil admits, and Roman says, "Oh, I brought in some water, it's just—"

Virgil turns, and there's a little hangover pack on his table—a glass of water, advil, a couple mints. Virgil takes the medicine, downs the water, and sticks the mint into his mouth, offering the other one to Roman, who takes it, smiling, sitting up, too. Virgil notices belatedly that he's still in the slacks he was wearing last night. And also, Virgil is wearing Peanuts-themed pajamas.

"The apartment's all clean," Roman says. "I have no idea who, but five separate people have left behind a single shoe, I've no idea how or why. And Patton's got all the presents under the tree."

"Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Roman says, and clacks his mint against his teeth, shifting, and blurts out, "I lied."

Virgil stiffens, like ice is flowing into his veins.

Roman doesn't seem to notice. "Logan and I weren't making Patton a Christmas gift."

Virgil blinks. "I—what?"

"We weren't working on making Patton a Christmas gift," Roman repeats, leaning forwards. "Operation Mistletoe was, in fact, a two-pronged plan. Logan wanted to get together with Patton, and I—I wanted to get together with you—so we tried to make a plan."

Virgil blinks, and says again, "What?"

"Patton told Logan and I about Not-So-Secret Santa after you went to bed, so Logan and I decided to throw the selection."

Virgil blinks. "You cheated?"

"I know, Patton would be very disappointed in me," Roman says. "Logan didn't know that I was going to follow him, though, that was just a you and me thing. And Logan and I decided to make a plan for the party—the body shots were Valerie's idea, but I did come up with the Bend and Snap bit."

"It was a very good bit," Virgil says faintly.

"And if the party didn't work, then, well, there were a lot of plans, there would have been some actual mistletoe involved—"

Virgil snickers, and then he pauses. "Wait, then what was the smoke?"

Roman looks sheepish. "We, ah. We burned the lists of bad ideas."

Virgil snorts, and Roman smiles.

"So, ah," he says, and looks nervous. "I've, um, kind of been in love with you for a while now, so—"

"Oh," Virgil says, breathless, then, "Cool, same."

"Same," Roman snorts, and suddenly, he's slithering forwards, hands cupping Virgil's face. 

Warm. He's so warm, and his lips are so soft, and the way they move with Virgil's speaks of experience that Virgil doesn't have, but that's okay, that's more than okay, and he tastes like mint, and Roman's kissing him long and soft, and Virgil feels warm, too, lit up from inside, like some kind of magic that only Roman was privy to, like Roman's trying to give him something, and Virgil tries his best to receive it, give it back.

"Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown," Roman whispers, and Virgil groans, throwing an arm over his eyes before he starts to laugh.

"What, like yours aren't just as bad? It's the bunny suit from A Christmas Story."

"I obviously have the panache to pull it off," Roman sniffs, and grins at Virgil. "Look at you, Eeyore-rable."

Virgil boos even as Roman's situating himself on Virgil's lap, and Roman says, "Like adorable? Adorable Eeyore?"

"Crossing references, doesn't count," Virgil says, grinning even as he arches up to meet Roman's lips again.

"Which plan was it?" Logan's voice comes from the doorway, and Roman yelps, throwing himself over Virgil like Virgil was the one whose virtue needed protecting, as if Roman was the one wearing a shirt.

"Logan!"

"I mean, I'm assuming it was either Plan A or Plan C, but—"

"Shut up, it was Plan B!" Roman groans into Virgil's shoulder. "Would it kill you to knock?"

Logan angles a severely disapproving look at Virgil. "Plan B? Really?"

"I have no idea what that means," Virgil says.

"My hips are very seductive and my ass is entrancing, Logan, they made you miss that shot last night," Roman huffs, and it clicks.

"Oh, my God. B for Bend and Snap?" Virgil says, over Logan's spluttering.

"Are we having a party in here, or something?" Patton asks, materializing in the doorway, and Roman groans into Virgil's shoulder again, Virgil grinning and cupping the back of his head.

"It's Christmas!" Patton declares. "Get up, get up, there are presents! And cocoa! And mistletoe! Put on a shirt, Roman! I'm so happy for you two! Virgil, I love the jammies! Come on!"

Virgil, laughing still, gets pulled from bed.

It really is the most wonderful time of the year.

[enixamyram]

Imagine a Jones-Mills family trip to Disneyland (because they’re ironic like that). Rumple has Blessing in a carrier strapped to his chest. Killian has Desiree on his shoulders. Zelena is pouting because she drew the short straw and has to carry the diaper bag. Robin insists on riding the Alice in Wonderland ride several times.

This one is so long, it might as well just be a oneshot rather than a CA short! Haha! Again, so much fun writing this out! It was honestly just… Yeah, it was just awesome! Thanks for the idea, Anon! 

   The sun was shining brightly overhead, there was barely a breeze to cool them down as they walked, the smell of cotton candy and other sugary snacks filled their noses and made their mouths water, and almost everywhere they turned, there was a swell of screams and cheerful cries from all the people crowding onto the various rides and entertainment around them. It was busy, like it was every day of the year, and the small group shuffled closely together in order to avoid being lost in the crowds.

   Sitting on her grandpa’s shoulders, Desirae sat open mouthed and wide eyed in awe of her colourful surroundings. She couldn’t look at all fast enough. Every time she looked in one direction, something new had appeared behind her and she rushed to look back again. She twisted and turned as much as she could, almost falling off several times, saved only by the light grip Killian kept on her ankles above her bright blue sandals. At one point she lay back against him, hanging upside down and letting her dark blue dress fall down, revealing a pair of pink frilly knickers underneath.

   “Desirae! Stop that! Sit up right now!” Zelena said, putting a hand on the younger girls back and pushing her into sitting position, brushing the material of her dress back around Killian’s neck.

   "She’s having fun, mum!” Robin laughed, glancing back at the three of them. “Don’t spoil it for her.”

   “She can have fun without flashing her underwear to the world.” Zelena said strictly.

   “You’re just bitter cause you pulled the short straw.” Killian smirked, raising an eyebrow at the children’s bags hanging off Zelena’s elbow. They held everything from a change of clothes, to spare diapers, to an incredible amount of sunscreen, to the endless bottles of juice and water to keep them hydrated. All of it would have her weighed down if not for the quick spell she had cast to make them as light as possible.

   Zelena scowled at him but turned ahead and pouted slightly, saying nothing. It really was unfair if you asked her. Especially since Rumple wasn’t even biologically related to either of the girls. Yet he had been a second father to Alice for many years before and during the cursed years, and had been as big a part of Desirae and Blessing’s life as she was.

   Not even the sight of Rumple could cheer her up about it. Although she had promised to take pictures for when she was in a better mood to tease him relentlessly once they got back home. After all, The Dark One in denim was nothing compared to The Dark One with a pink baby carrier strapped to his chest.

   Blessing sat in said carrier, cradled against Rumple’s chest, her short blonde hair curled slightly at the end and bouncing with every step. Though unlike her sister, she seemed far more entertained with the way her feet hovered so far off the ground than the cheerful screams and flashing lights on every other side around her. In fact she barely glanced up at all, and even that was only when one of her mothers paused to move back towards her tickling her underarms and causing her to look up and squeal at them.

   Striding in front of their daughters and parents, Alice and Robin were arm in arm, grinning from ear to ear as they looked at the amazing sights ahead. It was their first real holiday together, as a whole family, travelling somewhere completely new for once. It had taken them a while to agree on just where to go, but in the end, Disneyland won out. Because what better place to go, than where their stories were celebrated the most.

   “So what next?” Alice asked loudly, not bothering to look back any more.

   “Lunch!” Zelena suddenly cried, wincing at her next step. “I need to put my feet up already before they start bleeding out.”

   “I told you to wear proper shoes!” Robin complained, pausing to look back at her. “I said we’d be walking all day!”

   “Zelena’s stupid footwear aside,” Rumple said, leaning against a nearby sign. “She’s right. A break would be good. Not all of us are as young and fit as the two of you.”

   “But the day’s still young! And we have so much left to do!” Alice gasped excitedly.

   “We also have all weekend to do it,” Killian chuckled. “Come on, Starfish. We’ll take a lunch and then keep going until dinner.”

   Alice felt her face drop but glanced towards Desirae and Blessing guiltily. They were both very distracted at that moment (Desirae by a nearby water ride and Blessing by someone’ puppy as it walked passed) but she knew it was probably best to get them something to eat and drink anyway. And somewhere shaded would be good too. Even though they both wore sunhats and even though they were layered in protective cream (and a few protective spells) it would be nice to hide the somewhere with air-con for a decent meal. As much as she wanted to do more today, she also knew being a parent meant sacrificing for your child’s best interest over your own selfish wants.

   But then suddenly Robin was sliding an arm around her waist, pulling her close and grinning at the others. “Okay then, tell you what. You guys take the girls for lunch and rest your old aching feet. Meanwhile, Alice and I will go off for a few minutes of alone time.” She said cheerfully. “We’ll meet up after and continue the family fun together!”

   “That works for me.” Rumple nodded, pushing away from the sign and stretching his arms slightly as Blessing wriggled in her carrier.

   “What do you mean old?” Zelena demanded.

   “Great!” Robin said, ignoring her mother. “Call us when you’re ready to meet back up!”

   With that, she spun a squealing Alice around in a circle before pulling her off into the crowd. She already had the perfect place in mind where she wanted to take Alice. In fact she had wanted to take her there since they first entered the park early that morning. And now that they would be doing it alone, well, that just made it even better.

   Meanwhile, Killian paused, watch the two of them disappear before looking at the other two, smiling and waving towards the buildings to their right. “Shall we?”

Once*Upon*A*Time*At*Disneyland

   “So where are we going?” Alice asked, letting Robin lead the way since she clearly seemed to have a plan in mind, judging the way she was still pulling Alice along rather specifically.

   “Somewhere special.” Robin grinned, looking up at a sign before tugging Alice aside, not giving her a chance to read any of it.

   “You’re not going to tell me, are you.” Alice said, rolling her eyes.

   “Just be quiet and enjoy the private moments we have together,” Robin said, pausing long enough to kiss the side of her mouth.

   Alice smiled back at her. “I’m enjoying every moment. With you and with our family.” She sighed happily, leaning against Robin and shutting her eyes for a moment to enjoy the feeling in its entirety. “I never thought we’d reach this moment in our lives… It feels wonderful.”

   Robin came to a sudden stop. “Wonderful. Huh. Interesting choice of words.”

   Frowning, Alice opened her eyes and was immediately greeted with the sight of her smiling self beaming down at her. Or at least, the cartoon version of herself that this world had come up with for some bizarre reason. She stumbled back a step and looked up at the imagine, finally realising her cartoon picture was plastered on a poster that sat atop of a pink mushroom in front of Robin’s planned destination.

   “You’re kidding…” Alice said, looking at Robin in a mixture of genuine surprise and slight horror.

   However Robin was unaffected and just grinned back at her. “Well we’d better get in line!” She said, dragging Alice to where a crowd of people were already waiting to take their turn on Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.

Once*Upon*A*Time*At*Disneyland

   “Oh it feels good to get off my feet!” Zelena gasped, sitting back and smiling as she pulled her shoes off, taking a quick bite from the sandwich she had brought for herself. “God, I wish Chad were here to give them a proper massage.”

   Rumple cringed at the thought and turned his attention back to Blessing, making sure she was drinking all her juice. He had her balanced on one of his leg, the carrier now hanging off of one shoulder to allow some of the minor breeze they had to catch and cool his sweaty chest. He reached over, grabbing his own water and downing half of it without pause, his own sandwich barely touched at this point. Once again, he missed his magic and the ability to keep himself feeling fresh no matter how long he marched for.

   “It’s a shame he couldn’t make it.” Killian nodded, once again doing his best to remain civil. He always had done, even before their daughters had fallen head over heels for one another.

   “I know,” Zelena sighed sadly. “Next time, for sure.”

   “Pan!” Rae suddenly gasped, grabbing onto Killian’s top to pull herself clumsily onto her feet, standing on his leg and leaning against him for support. “PAN!” She cried.

   “What?” Zelena frowned at the young girl.

   “PAN!” Rae shouted, pointing hard at something behind her.

   “Did someone say Pan?!” A new voice shouted out.

   Suddenly all the others sitting at the outside tables looked up. Several children cheered and squealed, jumping up and crying out like Desirae as they pointed over towards the figure who ran towards them, followed by several other excited audience members. It was a grown man dressed in green tights, with red hair and a green hat sitting on top. He danced towards them with a big smile and came to a stop right beside Rae’s table, leaning towards her.

   “Hey there, everyone!” He called happily.

   “Oh God,” Rumple mumbled, purposely turning himself and Blessing away, glad that Blessing had no interested in the actor dancing around them.

   “Pan!” Rae beamed happily, reaching for him.

   “That’s right! I’m Peter Pan!” The man beamed, standing back and putting his hands on his hips. “What’s your name? Are you a Lost Girl?”

   “No, she’s not.” Zelena said, also turning her body away, hoping he would get the hint and leave them.

   He did not.

   “Uh, oh. Someone’s grumpy.” The man playing Peter said, leaning towards where Rae was beaming up at him and where Killian was attempting to lean away - and would have, if not for the back of the chair preventing him from doing so. “But that’s okay, I know what’ll make her feel better. A story! Stories make everything better! Do you have any stories?” He asked with an eagerness that was eerily convincing.

   Rae hesitated, putting a finger between her teeth before she shook her head, smiling shyly at him.

   “You don’t? Oh man. I love stories!” Peter said, looking towards some of the other people sitting close by, including a pair of young teenagers taking pictures of him. “Do any of you knows any stories?”

   “Yeah…” One of the girls giggled nervously.

   “Well let’s hear it!” Peter said, leaping over the gate and stealing a seat, sitting beside Killian and Rae - far too close for Killian’s liking. “Tell us a story!”

   “What is happening?” Killian hissed, leaning towards Rumple with a look of confusion and awkward terror.

   “An actor. Playing the part of Peter Pan.” Rumple cringed. “Or at least, this worlds version of it.”

   “Are you ready for the story, Lost Girl?” Peter asked Rae.

   “Yeah!” Rae shouted, just as loud as the crowd around them.

Once*Upon*A*Time*At*Disneyland

   Sitting side by side in a cosy yellow cart with the cartoon caterpillar head at the front, the girls had chosen to settle at the back, and out of everyone else’s way. After they had started and disappeared into the first dark tunnel, it was easy for Alice and Robin to get a little lost with each other. Especially as they started out staring at one another, grinning it cheerful and reluctant excitement for what was to come. In fact, what started out as a friendly ‘are you ready for this’ kiss, quickly turned into a passionate make out session that lasted the whole of the ride, until they were broken apart by the flash of lights from the exit and the crowds watching closely while waiting for their turn.

   “Wow, that was fun!” Alice grinned suggestively, climbing from the ride and reaching to pull Robin out with her. “But we better go find papa and the others now.”

   “Oh no!” Robin said, grabbing Alice’s hand and dragging her to the back of the line. “We’re riding that again.” She looked at her. “Properly this time!”

   Remembering fondly how their last ride in the dark tunnels had gone, Alice allowed herself be dragged along with little resistance. “Fine by me.” She grinned, winking at her as they took their place and waited together.

Once*Upon*A*Time*At*Disneyland

   “That was a great story!” Peter shouted, jumping up and clapping excitedly in Killian’s ear, grinning when Rae joined in with him. Even Blessing finally looked up towards him, only to grow bored almost immediately and leaned back against Rumple, eyes growing heavy.

   “Ugh, can you go away now?” Zelena grumbled.

   Peter, finally seeming to get the hint, gave an extravagant bow to her and the other tables. “If you say so. I better go find Tink! We’ve got some more adventures to have.” He jumped back over the gate, pausing to wave at Rae. “Bye, bye, Lost Girl!”

   “Bye bye!” Rae shouted, waving her free hand at him while the other continued to cling to Killian.

   “Thank God,” Rumple breathed, turning back around again and twisting Blessing in his arms until she was comfortable.

   “You can say that again. Now let’s get out of here already. It’s about time we met the girls before that idiotic man child comes back.” Zelena said, collecting the bags back into her arms.

   Unfortunately it seemed they spoke too soon. Suddenly another voice shouted over the crowd and drew the attention of everyone (Rae included) back to them.

   “BOY!”

   “Uh oh!” Peter gasped, looking towards the boys and girls over the gate. “I think I hear a pirate!”

   Suddenly all the kids were shouting and booing. They jumped from their seats and began clambering against the gate, cheering and talking over one another with Zelena, Killian and Rumple stuck between them. Even if they wanted to stand and get away, they wouldn’t be able to easily and not while Rae continued to squeal and bounce, leaning as far as she could in Killian’s arms and pointing along with the rest of them at the shape that had called out to Peter.

   And then a man was stepping forward. Or at least, someone dressed as man. Unlike Peter, this actor wore a mask that included comically enlarged facial features, including a fat nose on top of a long thin moustached that was upturned on either side, over the top of a large toothy grin. He had long black curled hair and wore a purple fancy hat with a thick white feather to match the long red coat with a white frilled shirt underneath. He strode forward in a pair of pink and white leggings with a hand on his fake sword and the other arm held up above him, revealing a long silver hook on the end.

   “No…” Killian said quietly in disbelief.

   “On second thought…” Zelena said, sitting back and smiling. “I think we’ll stay a little longer after all.”

Once*Upon*A*Time*At*Disneyland

   “Alice,” Robin breathed. “Pay attention.”

   “I am.” Alice said, leaning over and kissing her again. “I’m giving you all my attention.”

   Robin pulled her close then twisted her around suddenly so she was facing away from her, breaking their kiss and wrapping her arms around her chest and arms to keep the other girl pinned and prevent her from twisting around to face Robin one more. As much as Robin loved their private moments in the dark like this, she also brought Alice on this ride for a reason and she was going to sit through it no matter what.

   “I hated the film,” Alice grumbled, scowling at the white rabbit chanting in front of her. “Why should I enjoy the ride?”

   “Cause you’re on it with me.” Robin grinned, kissing the back of her neck.

   Alice smiled. “Well… That is a perk.” She leaned back in Robin’s arms, barely paying attention to the animatronics that quoted the cartoon to them. In her mind, that was Robin’s fault. If she wanted Alice to focus on the ride, she shouldn’t be holding her as close as she was.

   They both slouched down together, riding along the tunnels and through the various story scenes of the film. When they momentarily slid back outside, they paused to share a grin between them just before entering the second part of the ride.

   “See?” Robin laughed as they neared the end.

   “Okay. I’ll admit. The stories a little more fun in the ride version.” Alice nodded, pecking her cheek. “But I think our first ride through was still the best.”

   As they came to a stop and climbed from the cart for a second time, Robin took Alice’s hand and began to head in direction of where most of the restaurants were located. They both knew they had to meet with the others eventually and there was no doubt they would all still be somewhere they could sit and rest. After all, they would need all the rest they could get for today.

   And then suddenly Robin felt herself being pulled to a stop. She looked back and saw Alice smiling at her, biting the corner of her lip. “You… Maybe want to go again?”

Once*Upon*A*Time*At*Disneyland

   “No…” Killian groaned, looking around but both Zelena and Rumple had gotten quite comfortable now.

   “Sit back and enjoy the show, Hook.” Rumple smirked, Blessing having now fallen asleep curled up slightly in his arms, oblivious to everything happening around her.

   “HOOK!” Rae gasped, looking from Killian and towards the actor and back again. “HOOK!” She gasped excitedly, pointing towards the actor while staring at her grandpa. “HOOK!”

   “Think she recognises you.” Zelena smirked.

   “Shut up.” Killian moaned, trying to sit Rae down in his lap, but she was more excited seeing Captain Hook than she had Peter Pan and refused to let herself be settled.

   The two actors had begun to walk around one another. Hook said very little as he waved his sword at Peter who mocked and giggled at him, jumping around and running in circles like it was a game of tag. Every now and then he jumped the gate and ran among the children with Hook pretending to try and chase after him while unable to actually follow and every time he did, the three actual fairy tale characters got a lovely view of his ridiculous head, including the enlarged cheeks and chin that went with the nose and smile.

   “Can we go now?” Killian asked, trying to sound more bored, like he didn’t care which way or the other.

   “And abandon the show?” Zelena cackled. “I think not!”

   “Let’s leave it to Desirae to decide,” Rumple said confidently, leaning forward, being careful not to jostle where Blessing had turned and curled against his chest now. Not that he needed to try so hard, it seemed the young girl was completely undisturbed by the cries of many people still shouting around her. “Rae? Rae? Do you want to go now? Or do you want to watch Peter Pan and Captain Hook?”

   “HOOK!” Rae cried, pointing and bouncing on her feet still. “HOOK!”

   “That decides it,” Rumple said, leaning back and smiling at his old enemy/new friend.

   “I hate you both.” Killian mumbled, slouching down in his seat while keeping his hands on Rae’s hips. He had to be careful to keep her from falling as she continued to bouncing up and down on his leg.

Once*Upon*A*Time*At*Disneyland

   “Okay, we should really head back now.” Alice giggled, walking for the excit, back alongside the crowd of people still waiting to have their turn.

   “We should.” Robin agreed firmly. Then added with a devious smile; “Or… We could have one more ride.”

   “Really?” Alice laughed. “Come on. Even I’m getting bored of it now.”

   “Yeah but think of it this way,” Robin said, pulling her forcefully to the back of the line once again. “We started this ride with a kiss… Shouldn’t we end it that way as well?”

   Alice pretended to pause and think it over. “Well, that sounds fair to me!”

Once*Upon*A*Time*At*Disneyland

   “How long are they going to do this?” Killian hissed.

   “For as long as it entertains.” Rumple shrugged, looking towards the kids and teens still laughing around them.

   “Yeah, well, I’m going to get us some more drinks,” Zelena said, standing and wedging her way through the crowd, pausing to pat Killian’s shoulder and wink down at him. “Don’t go anywhere.”

   Killian lashed out a hand, grabbing her wrist tightly. “You are not leaving me here!”

   “Well you can’t come. Rae’s enjoying herself so you have to stay for her sake.” Zelena said, pulling her arm free. “Have fun, Captain.”

   Rumple chuckled, watching Zelena disappear into the crowd. Then turned as he caught Killian glaring at him. “What?” He asked.

   “You’re not going anywhere.” Killian warned, then added quickly. “Don’t forget, if you move, you’ll disturb Blessing.”

   “Oh no worries there.” Rumple said, putting his feet on Zelena’s recently vacated chair, smiling as he looked back towards the show just as Hook bent over and had his backside kicked by Peter, sending him toppling to the ground. “I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

   Killian was suddenly regretting the idea of keeping Rumple around and groaned loudly, watching his cartoon self struggle to scramble back onto his feet and those ridiculous looking shoes. Rae couldn’t stop laughing and more than once pointed at Killian and pointed back again, as if reminding him again and again that, yes, that was supposed to be him.

Once*Upon*A*Time*At*Disneyland

   “Okay, now we should head back.” Alice sighed sadly.

   “Are you kidding? They made us sit up front this time. We couldn’t finish how we started we everyone able to watch us.” Robin argued grumpily.

   “Robin, enough, okay? If I have to see those stupid things again or hear any of their high squeaky voices, I’m going to lose my mind.” Alice said sharply, rubbing her temple at the very idea of passing through those damn tunnels once more.

   “You won’t hear them. Not if I’m doing it right.” Robin said quickly.

   Alice ignored her attempts to flirt and kept walking. Or rather, she tried to keep walking. She didn’t get very far when suddenly Robin reached down, picking her up off her feet and physically carrying her to the back of the line.

   “ROBIN!” Alice yelped, kicking her legs out.

   “One more time!” Robin promised.

Once*Upon*A*Time*At*Disneyland

   “Finally!”

   A few parents shot Killian a dirty look but he ignored them. He didn’t care if he sounded like a miserable old bugger. Seeing his cartoon self run off like a coward when Peter got all the audience to start making ticking sounds like a clock, was both a great insult and an even greater relief. Killian was an inch away from carrying Rae off mid performance, even if she hated him for it, while Rumple had never looked like he was enjoying himself more. Even now, he was still grinning at the (real) pirate with a smugness that wasn’t going to be wiped away easily.

   “Can we go now?” Killian growled as the crowd around them thinned out and everyone returned to their seats to finish their lunches.

   “Yeah, the fun’s over now.” Rumple said, standing and shuffling Blessing in his arms. She whimpered and her little blue eyes blinked open staring up at the shocked expression on the older man’s face. “That’s what wakes you?” He blinked.

   As if she even understood him, Blessing smiled slightly - a smile that matched her mothers cheeky side - before shutting her eyes and cuddling back up against him. Rumple shook his head at her before turning and heading back inside the restaurant, followed by Killian where he had settled his granddaughter back on his shoulders, ignoring her restless fidgeting. While he knew she was eager to be released on her own two wobbly feet, there was no way he was going to risk letting her get lost in this crowd.

   As they made their way through the main restaurant and for the exit, they kept an eye out for Zelena but she was nowhere around. At least not until they found their way out of the building and back into the main area of the park.

   “I thought you were just getting drinks?” Killian demanded when he caught sight of Zelena, hovering across from the exit, waiting patiently for them.

   “Guess I forgot.” Zelena shrugged innocently. “So did you enjoy the show?”

   Scowling at her, Killian stormed passed, letting Rumple come to a pause behind him, still smiling at his back. “Oh he loved it.” He said loudly, then glanced at Zelena and lowered his voice so Killian could no longer hear. “I think we’re gonna need to ask for a special request for Captain Hook to come see Desirae, don’t you think?”

   Zelena smirked back. “Even without your magic, you are still the Dark One.”

   “What are you two whispering about back there?” Killian snapped, looking over his shoulder at them.

   “Oh nothing!” Zelena sang, walking over and reaching up. “Now give Rae here. It’s your turn to carry the bags.”

   Killian side stepped away from her. “After what I just sat through? I don’t think so.” He walked around her, heading off with Rae falling back to hang upside down behind him again, giggling and waving to her grandma.

   “Hey! Over here!”

   Alice and Robin caught sight of Rae’s flashing knickers before they saw the faces of the others. They hurried over, both looking very pink in the face and grinning with deep matching breaths.

   “You two look like you had fun,” Zelena said, pushing aside her irritation at still being stuck with the bags. “How many rides did you get on in the end?”

   “Oh… Not many actually.” Robin shrugged.

   “Just the one really.” Alice admitted.

   “Just one? Was the line that long?” Zelena blinked. Well, all the lines were long but she had discovered that the park was actually quite good at getting everyone moving at a brisk pace so as to give everyone a chance.

   “… Yeah. Let’s go with that.” Robin nodded, ignoring the puzzled look her mother gave her.

   Quick to change the subject, Alice looked between her daughters. “Aw, is someone tuckered out?” Alice asked, walking over to Rumple and brushing some strands of blonde hair to the side of Blessing’s head, kissing her sleeping forehead softly.

   “Yeah, she fell asleep near the start of the show.” Rumple nodded.

   “Show? What show?” Alice asked.

   “Forget about it!” Killian said quickly before anyone else could answer. “Now are we going to go on some more rides today or not?”

   The girls looked questioningly towards Rumple and Zelena for answers, both of whom were smirking to themselves and each other. It was obvious something had happened while they were gone, but neither had any idea what could pull such mixed reactions from the three of them.

   “We’ll tell you later.” Rumple promised.

   “We’ll show you if we can.” Zelena grinned, then looked at the girls. “Seriously you are both still very red. Lemme guess, roller-coaster?”

   “Uh- yup! That’s right!” Robin nodded. “Very exciting! So much fun! Couldn’t get enough of it.” She looked at Alice and shared a secret knowing smile. “Definitely do it again some time.”

   Alice grinned back, reaching over and entwining their fingers together as they began following Killian across the park. “Sometime soon.”

   As oblivious as ever Zelena shrugged and walked beside them. “Well, we have all weekend for you two do it again. But for now, Rumple, give me my granddaughter! Now! Grandma Zee wants time with her precious Blessing as well, so hand her over!”

[pikastar2]

Jaded Heart

“Wait right here, okay? I’ll be back in a minute with our drinks.”

“…Okay…”

The blonde haired male watched as the other male with striking white hair left his side to complete his task. And once he disappeared inside the small café they were visiting did he let himself completely relax. Staring up at the cloudless blue sky, he sighed and rubbed his forehead in frustration. What exactly was his life right now? Straightening back up, he looked around the area before finding a weather-worn bench to sit down on while he waited for his companion to return. Afterwards, he let his chocolate brown eyes wander from person to person, store to store. Hoping against hope to get that spark of recognition from something, anything. But just like all the other times, his memory remained a blank.

‘Amnesia sure does suck,’ the blonde thought, slumping back against the bench. He sighed and let his fingers drum against his wooden seat as his eyes trained themselves on the door that the other male disappeared into. A frown appeared on his face as he thought about the chances of him escaping while his companion was occupied. The line he was standing in seemed a bit long. It might buy him a couple of minutes to get a good distance away before he became aware of his absence…no…that wouldn’t work. Even now he could feel those eyes on him, constantly looking back to make sure he was still there. And even if the white haired male wasn’t paying attention, he would always, always find him. That was something the blonde found out after a few days of meeting him.

Annoyance bubbled up inside him when he thought about that day. It was after the hospital released him, and allowed him to go to the apartment that apparently was his home even though it certainly didn’t feel like it anymore. He had been looking through…his things in hopes of jogging his broken memory when there came a knock on the door. Surprised to have a guest since no one had visited him in the hospital, he opened the door and came face-to-face with the person who was now his constant companion whether he liked it or not. He remembered staring into those grey eyes, those eyes that were filled with so many emotions before the air was almost crushed from his lungs from the powerful hug he received from the mysterious young man.

‘Hide…’ he had whispered breathlessly in his ear.

Hide. Or Hideyoshi Nagachika as the doctors called him when he first woke up in the blinding white hospital room. That was his name and apparently he must’ve been pretty close with the other male in order to have a nickname and lose his ability to breath. When he was finally allowed to push himself away he took a good look at the male with grey eyes and snowy white hair. His brain offered him nothing, but the feeling in his chest told him that he needed to know…

Bitterness…resentment…sorrow…

The pain in his chest had been so intense that he flung himself from the other’s arms and slammed the door in his face. It had been the first time since waking up that he felt anything from his past life. Whoever that man was, he had did a lot of damage to Hideyoshi…to him. Ever since then, the blonde wanted nothing to with the guy that caused his heart to ache, but no matter what he did or said, the man would remain close by. Either holding onto his hand, gripping the fabric of shirt, or placing a warm hand on the small of his back to lead him about whenever he set foot outside his door.

‘How did Nagachika…I…even deal with this guy? Seriously.’ Even after several months of recovery, the blonde still had trouble seeing himself as the man he once was. Despite the numerous stories his companion told him, the laughter and the smiles and the jokes that had once been apart of his personality, he couldn’t find it in himself to be that person. In fact, he wasn’t even sure someone like that could exist. And how could Hide…he…be that person when all he felt was pain whenever he was around the other male? Maybe once upon a time the pain wasn’t there, but something major must’ve happened between them. Would he ever remember?

“Hide, I’m back! Here’s your triple fudge iced latte with whipped cream!”

The blonde nodded his thanks and took the offered drink as the other man settled down on the bench next to him. His brown eyes took in the drink he was sure was going to be sugary sweet before glancing at his companion’s drink. Plain, black coffee. Like always. Honestly, did he ever drink anything else? The white haired male never offered up an explanation to why he liked his coffee black, just like he never offered to tell him his name.

“It’s not important.” The mysterious male had told him.

Taking a sip from his drink, he closed his eyes in bliss at the sweet flavor. At least his taste buds remained the same. Maybe this was how he stayed happy, all the sugar keeping him hyper.

“Are you enjoying your drink, Hide? You ordered this one a lot before.”

“It’s good,” he said simply.

“After this, do you want to take a walk around the park? Or maybe around campus?”

A shrug. “Sure.” Not like that would do him any good. If the previous walks to those places failed to trigger a memory, then he doubted anything would change this time around. But he allowed himself to be pulled up by the hand and lead away to their new destination.

~*OoOoO*~

The walk through the park had been a silent one as both men walked along the leaf covered path. Fall was setting in, but it was still pleasantly warm despite how late in the season it was. Brown eyes were glancing around the area as usual to see if anything looked familiar to him, but like always nothing jumped out at him. He was thankful that they avoided going to the college he used to attend because he couldn’t stand those looks of pity being thrown at him. It was bad enough when he was with his ever-present shadow.

Does he remember anything, yet?

Why does he act so different than before?

Are you sure this is the real Hide Nagachika and not some doppelganger?

Those were the whispers he could hear behind his back every time he went somewhere that his past-self used to frequent. And by now, he was sick of it. Sick of everything in his life right now. He slowed to a stop on the concrete path and stared up at the sky. He was tired, so very tired.

“Hide,” the other man questioned, stopping right along side him. “Is something the matter?”

Brown eyes stared at his white haired companion, taking in his entirety. This man’s very presence was putting a huge strain on him. He was always there, always trying to help him in someway despite all the times he clearly didn’t want him to. Maybe part of the problem was that the blonde wasn’t being firm enough. Even with the negative emotions that rose in his chest whenever the other male showed up, there was another part of him that was actually happy to see him, that welcomed his everyday presence by his side.

Suffice to say, it was hard dealing with the warring emotions and he just wanted it all to end.

“I’m thinking about moving to a different ward,” he started off with a sigh, ignoring the shocked look on the other male’s face. “From the way things are looking, I may never get back my memories and being around people who want me to be the person I once was is making me feel uncomfortable. I’ve already started looking at apartments and jobs, so hopefully at the end of the month I’ll be ready to move out.”

“I…okay…if that’s what you really want,” the white haired male said, looking unsure. “I can help you look and then we can…”

“No! There is no ‘we’!” He felt a twinge of guilt for his sudden outburst, but this needed to be said. “Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I need to be away from you too. I just want a clean break from everyone and everything. Maybe when I…Hide…gets his memory back, he’ll return to this ward. But I have to leave or else I’ll go crazy.”

Just as he suspected, the white haired male didn’t take his plan so well. “But Hide, how will you survive?! You’re still recovering and you’ll be all by yourself out there! Please, please reconsider…!”

A chuckle that was tinted with ever present bitterness in his heart spilled from his lips. “I may not have any memories from my past, but this heart of mine seems to know all about being lonely.” The stricken look on the other’s face should have given him some pleasure, but it didn’t.

“H-Hide…please…”

“Save it. You have no idea what’s it’s like being around you all the time! Part of me wants to slap you while the other part of me wants to…wants to…!” he growled in frustration, turning to walk away from the other man. “It…hurts to be around you. Plain and simple. So I’ve come to decision to protect Hide’s heart and try to move on. Hell, someone has to since you sure as hell weren’t.” There was silence after that, both men absorbing what had just been said until…

“…Then hit me,” the other male whispered brokenly, dropping to his knees in front of the blonde male and clutching the fabric of his pants. “Slap me, punch me, beat me black and blue! Do anything that will help you vent some of that anger, but…but please, don’t leave me! I won’t be able to bear it if we separated again!” He was sobbing now. “I never thought I was hurting you this much and if I could take it all back, I would. Please, Hide…”

The blonde fist was clenched into a ball as hot, wet tears were bleeding through his pant leg. Part of him wanted to do just that. Just wanted to inflict at least a little damage to the man that hurt him so much, but a much larger part of him couldn’t bear to see the weeping male in pain. Hide wouldn’t want that and neither did he.

‘What do you want?’ he asked himself, his past self. What was it that Hideyoshi Nagachika wanted that spurred such powerful emotions regarding the person that was his best friend? Bending down, he placed his hands on the other’s cheeks, brushing away the tears that continued to fall. Seeing that broken expression on his face made something twist in his heart. He took no enjoyment seeing this kind of pain. Besides, even if he and Hide Nagachika were the same person that sort of punishment wasn’t his to give.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered softly, leaning his forehead against the other male’s. “Please don’t cry. I can’t bear to see you cry.” Something deep within himself was welling up and now tears of his own were escaping his eyes. The urge to protect this man, to alleviate any pain he was feeling was overriding every negative emotion he ever felt when they reunited with each other. Deep inside, the blonde could tell that this was something Hide…no…something he wanted to do.

Love…

The word hit him so hard that he was surprised that it didn’t occur to him earlier. Now all of the rampaging emotions in his heart made sense. He loved this man. Loved him so much that not even forgotten memories could make the love ebb. For once in his life since he woke up, his past life and current life matched wavelengths. ‘I love this man,’ the blonde thought before pressing his lips against the other male’s.

The kiss was chaste. A simple caress of lips before it deepened into something more. Those powerful arms wrapped around him once again and held him close as the kiss continued until the need for air separated them. Brown eyes flickered open and he could see a beautiful, happy, and relieved smile on the other’s face. It took his breath away, not just because of how wonderful it made him feel to see that smile, but because of that spark of recognition that went through him like a lightning bolt. Flickers of memories surrounding the man before him ran through his mind like an old picture show. He recalled bits and pieces of their childhood together, their good times and bad times, their friendship, but most importantly, he remembered a name.

“K-Kaneki…” Hide whispered, brown eyes dazed as his mind finally stopped whirling. If possible the smile on Kaneki’s face grew, tears of joy now running down his cheeks.

“Hide,” he breathed, pulling the blonde into another kiss.

There was still more to his past that Hide knew he had to rediscover, but for now, simply remembering the man he loved was enough.

OWARI

[cliftonsteen]

Sugar in coffee: Exploring an age-old habit

All around the world, people add sugar or sweeteners to their coffee, and have done so for centuries. 

Although third wave coffee consumers generally lean towards drinking coffee without milk or sugar, it is still an established habit in the sector that isn’t going anywhere soon. In the USA alone, a study shows that more than 50% of surveyed coffee drinkers sweeten their coffee.

But why is adding sugar to coffee such an ingrained drinking habit? Where did it come from? And how do people drink coffee with sugar around the world today? To learn more, I spoke to a scientist, coffee specialists, and specialty coffee drinkers. Read on to find out what they said.

You may also like another article on adding sugar to coffee.

A history: Sugar in coffee

Sugar’s relationship with coffee stretches back almost 500 years. The two have been intrinsically linked for centuries.

When coffee reached Europe in the 16th century, coffee and sugar were both considered luxuries, reserved almost exclusively for the wealthy upper classes at the time. However, most beans were low quality, and roasted very dark. To make the bitter and intense flavours more palatable, sugar was often added.

As time went by, sweeter caffeinated beverages (both coffee and tea) started to become more affordable and accessible. Unlike beer and cider (which were both safer to drink than water at the time), they provided a dose of energy without the added side effect of drunkenness.

According to an NPR article: “A strong dose of sugar [in coffee] was an affordable luxury… it gave workers a hit of caffeine to get through a long slog of a day, it provided plentiful calories, and it offered the comfort of warmth during a meal that otherwise often consisted only of bread.”

Sugar and coffee continued to be popular into the 18th century. The first large-scale coffee roaster was invented in the 1700s, and likely provided roasters with very limited control over the roast.

Despite the fact that roasting was now mechanical, sugar was likely still added to smooth the intense flavours that arose as a result of this imprecision.

Similarly, when instant coffee became popular in the 20th century, it was generally made using cheap, accessible beans, often from robusta plants. This further encouraged drinkers to add sugar.

Wilton Soares Cardoso is a food engineer, professor, and researcher at IFES in Espírito Santo. “Sugar suppresses a coffee’s bitterness and acidity,” he says. “By balancing its acids, you can experience other flavours in the drink.”

Sugar preferences around the world 

As we know, cultural tastes for coffee differ all around the world. So while some 50% of surveyed coffee drinkers in the USA take sugar in their coffee, what about other countries?

To learn more about preferences about sugar in coffee in Europe, I spoke to Daniel Riou, a coffee trader and partner at Buraca Roasters, a specialty coffee roaster based in Lisbon and Cascais, Portugal.

He says that in the Mediterranean in particular, coffee is traditionally an intense, dark beverage. This has been further influenced by Italian espresso culture. Finally, he adds that consumers and businesses in many of these countries have had limited buying power in recent decades.

As a result, Daniel says: “Manufacturers and roasters ended up buying lower quality coffee with a higher percentage of robusta, making it bitter. This bitterness has been eliminated by adding sugar.

”Years and years of this type of consumption ended up changing our palate and creating this preconceived idea that sugar is to be added to coffee,” he tells me. “This is why it is such a deep-rooted habit in Mediterranean countries.”

Sugar has even been used during roasting in some Mediterranean countries and beyond. This process is known as torrefacto, a traditional method where roasters glaze coffee with sugar during the roast. The idea behind torrefacto roasting is that it prolongs the effects of the Maillard reaction to increase viscosity.

Alongside the increase in viscosity, however, torrefacto has also been used to preserve coffee beans for almost 100 years. However, while it allows the coffee to be kept for longer, it also generally lowers its price and gives it flavours which are generally considered undesirable among specialty coffee drinkers (burnt and charred tasting notes, for instance).

As well as being popular in France and Portugal, torrefacto roasting is also used outside of the Mediterranean in countries such as Paraguay, Mexico, Costa Rica, Uruguay, and Argentina.

Naturally, sugar consumption has varied around the world for a huge range of geopolitical and cultural reasons.

In the Middle East, for instance, sugar in coffee is uncommon. Instead, traditional Arabic coffee (often served in a dallah and brewed with spices) has historically been served with sweet dry fruits and nuts to balance out the bitterness of the coffee.

Turki Alsagoor owns Flat Wardo, a specialty coffee shop in Saudi Arabia. He says that adding sugar to coffee is unusual, as it’s heavily regulated by the government and subject to high taxes. Baristas only add it if a customer specifically requests it.

“There isn’t sugar at the counter. You only offer it if [customers] ask for it,” he tells me. Even then, he notes that it’s “really strange” for people to take sugar.

Elsewhere in the world, attitudes to sugar vary. However, traditional beverages such as tinto in Colombia, Vietnamese street coffee, and café cubano in Cuba and Miami are all often sweetened in one way or another during preparation. 

There is a running theme. Generally, where lower quality beans have historically been used to prepare the beverage, brewers have used sugar to balance the intense, bitter flavours of the beans.

This is even the case with more recent trends, such as the Greek frappé and dalgona coffee, which have often been prepared with cheaper instant coffee and lots of sugar.

Sugar and specialty: A breakdown

Despite the popularity of sugar in coffee through history, specialty coffee has in recent years distanced itself from this trend. Today, many specialty coffee consumers drink their coffee without milk or sugar.

Many believe that milk and sugar mask the more delicate, subtle, or complex notes of the coffee, “hiding” the characteristics they instead want to enjoy.

To learn more about specialty coffee drinkers’ relationships with sugar in coffee, we conducted a poll on Instagram. While many rejected sugar in coffee, others maintained that it very much depended on the beverage, occasion, or mood.

For instance, milk-based beverages seem to be more commonly enjoyed with sugar. Luna Soloni, a specialty coffee enthusiast from the Philippines, said that she “craves” sugar when drinking coffee with milk.

Others noted that good alternatives to sugar included honey, flavoured syrups, and more. “When I want something sweet I add ice cream or honey,” says Deandra Gauci, a Coffee Strangers consultant from Malta.

“If I need to hide a bad flavour, I add milk,” Deandra told us. “If someone else wanted to put sugar in any coffee I’ve brewed, I let them enjoy it without judgement. The point of coffee is to enjoy it.”

Todd Gruen is a “home barista” from Tennessee in the USA. In contrast, he says he prefers using syrups to sweeten his coffees. “If I’m digging deeper to taste coffee’s bright, fruity, or sweeter flavours, a bit of syrup can highlight those,” he says. “It can also mellow out the more bitter notes on the other side.”

Sugar, coffee & flavour: An explanation

As we know, historically, coffee drinkers have used sugar to mask the flavours of bitterness in darker roasts and poor quality coffees. This is because biologically, we are evolutionarily “programmed” to avoid bitter flavours, because they are often associated with poisonous substances.

“Our brains recognise sweetness as a sensation of pleasure and reward,” Wilton tells me. “They produce dopamine, a hormone associated with wellbeing.”

In short, this is what causes the “craving” for sweet foods and sugary drinks.

Wilton adds that for those who have become accustomed to drinking coffee (especially darker roasts and coffees with bitter flavours) the palate acclimates, meaning there is no need to add sugar. 

“Not everyone needs it, but in my opinion, adding just a little sugar to even [good] quality coffees can improve your ability to sense different flavours,” he says. “It balances acidity and suppresses bitterness.”

He also says that the right amount of sugar can highlight certain flavours and aromas in a cup of coffee. But it has to be the right kind of sugar, added in the right way.

For instance, he says that while standard table sugars, such as granulated sugar, add sweetness, they do not add a deeper or complex flavour. Other sugars and sweeteners, such as brown sugar, have their own flavour, which can be overpowering and alter the flavour in the cup. The same goes for honey, as well as artificial sweeteners like Stevia and aspartame. 

Wilton says that the ideal sweetener in coffee is one that “robs” the least amount of flavour from the cup. He says that the best he has encountered in that regard is sucralose (a very close cousin of sucrose, which is naturally produced by the coffee plant).

Adding sugars or sweeteners that have flavours of their own will naturally change the flavour profile of a cup of coffee. Honey, brown sugar, and other sweeteners, for instance, can add anything from caramel to vegetal notes in the cup.

For some, this might be an irreparable alteration of the inherent flavour of the coffee. For others, it might be just what they need to punch through the milk in a latte.

Preferences for sugar in coffee, like many other things, depend on culture and personal taste. Baristas and cafés should consider this when serving customers coffee, specialty or otherwise.

Of course, approaches differ from coffee shop to coffee shop. Carly Ashdown is the founder of Ræfen Coffee Roastery in Edmonton, Canada.

She says: “If a customer adds sugar to specialty coffee, I ask them to sip without any additions to get to know the coffee [first]. After that, it’s up to them.” Additionally, both Daniel and Turki note that customers should be happy and comfortable above all else.

Ultimately, it’s up to the consumer. A cup of coffee is a very personal thing, and making sure that it brightens someone’s day is what’s most important; not that it’s enjoyed in any “right” or “wrong” way.

Enjoyed this? Then read “Strong Coffee”: Definitions From Around The World

Photo credits: Wilson Soares Cardoso, Daniel Riou, Turki Alsagoor

Perfect Daily Grind

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