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gunwookies · 1 year

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cute things zb1 does in a relationship

pairing: zb1 x gn! reader genre: fluff! suggestive at hao's, lil angsty at taerae's warnings: slightly cringey word count: 3.5k notes: I tried to write every character based on my interpretation of the members! also for yujin's I assumed the reader goes to school since he does too.

jiwoong:

he always makes sure that you are well fed!

jiwoong always asks you if you’ve eaten. just like he cares so much about his health, he cares so much about your health! when you’re stressed you often forget to eat so he’s the one that always makes sure your tummy is full! he lovesss to cook for you! when you come home from work tired, he knows that food is the way to your heart. so he always welcomes you home with a plate of rice or a bowl of soup ready to listen to you talk about your day. if you’re too tired he’ll even feed you because he finds you so cute.

you unlock your apartment door, trudging through. your nose is hit with the strong smell of garlic and chili oil. your eyes find their way towards the kitchen, where jiwoong’s back is facing you as he spoons some bibimbap into a porcelain bowl.

“you’re home?” jiwoong asks, his back still facing you as he finishes preparing the food. you smile to yourself as his voice gives you the comfort you’d been longing for all day. you drop your bags on the couch as you head towards the kitchen. you wrap your arms around jiwoong’s waist, snuggling your cheek into his back. you feel jiwoong slightly giggle and look up to see the cute crinkle of his eyes. “are you tired?” he asked, looking down at you over his shoulder.

“mhm,” you affirmed. he turned around to face you, your arms still around his waist. his hands reached your face, fingers cupping your cheeks as he placed a small peck on your forehead. his fingers lightly caress your ears as he places his forehead against yours.

“how about you have some of this bibimbap i made you and then we can watch a movie and cuddle? yeah?” he whispers. you nodded enthusiastically before stealing a quick peck on his lips.

zhang hao:

constantly praises and compliments you

hao is your number one fan and he always wants you to remember that. he literally cannot go an hour without praising you. he’ll randomly stop you when you’re walking together down the street to just tell you how beautiful you look. as soon as you wake up next to him, hair all messy and face puffy, he doesn’t hesitate to tell you how attractive you are as he looks straight into your eyes. he loves seeing how shy you get at his words, but even more how you gain confidence when you are around him. he definitely feels pride from having such an amazing partner as you.

you wrapped a towel around your body as you stepped out of the shower. hao had booked a dinner reservation for the both of you as it was your three year anniversary. you were so excited as today was such a special day and you were ready to spend it with your boyfriend in such a romantic way. as you walked out of the bathroom, you saw hao leaning against the bedframe, scrolling on his phone. his gaze raised as he saw you from the corner of his eyes. a small smirk formed on his lips as his eyes were glued on your frame. he shoved his phone into his pocket as he walked towards you. you didn’t pay him any mind as you walked towards your closet, looking for something to wear. as you stood in front of your clothes, you felt hao’s arms snake around your waist.

“you look so beautiful, right now,” he whispered, placing a small kiss on your neck. he continued to place kisses all across your neck and shoulders.

“come on, hao. i need to get dressed.”

“but you just look so gorgeous like this. i can’t believe i get to see this beauty with my own two eyes,” he whispers into your ear, before he places a kiss there. you turn around, hiding your blushing face into his neck.

“we’re gonna be late.”

“ i think we should just stay home and do… other things,” he smiled innocently. and of course, you could only agree.

hanbin:

loves to spoil you

hanbin just loves to see you happy, especially when he’s the reason. and he’ll do anything to achieve that. he always notices the twinkle in your eyes when you see something you want. he doesn’t even think twice about buying it for you, because he just want to see you happy like that. you never even ask for anything but hanbin just always knows exactly what you want. even just going to the convenience store, he always brings something for you. even when you don’t ask for anything. more than anything, he loves giving you meaningful gifts. like how he once gifted you a weighted blanket because you complained that you weren’t sleeping well.

you rushed down the stairs of your apartment, still in your pjs. hanbin had texted you that he was outside of your apartment. you were completely confused as you had just seen each other for breakfast this morning. but it was still an opportunity to see your favorite person, so you were delighted. as you walked outside in the windy cold, you noticed hanbin leaning against a tree. he broke into a sweet smile as his eyes met yours. you walked towards him and noticed his hands hidden behind his back.

“hey, love,” he smiled as you reached him. you waddled in front of him, placing a peck on his lips. you noticed how his arms didn’t even reach to touch you as you kissed him. you looked down to see he was holding something in his hands. hanbin noticed your gaze and hesitantly stretched his arms towards you. flowers. he bought you a bouquet of flowers. you broke into a smile, noticing how they were your favorite flowers, camelia flowers.

“what is this for?” you asked, as you grabbed the bouquet, placing it against your chest.

“i just saw them as i was walking home and i had to get them for you. pretty flowers for such a pretty person,” he said, smiling shyly, his ears growing red. you giggled, leaning into his embrace.

“thank you, hanbinnie,” you muttered, kissing his cheek.

matthew:

he loves taking pictures of you

matthew just loves admiring your beauty. anytime he can, he just takes out his phone and snaps a picture of you. he especially loves doing it in secret. whenever he wakes up before you in the morning, he loves to sneak pictures of you sleeping because you just look so peaceful and beautiful. he even has a picture album named after you where he just has pictures of you. whenever you guys go on dates he always makes sure to take a picture of you, wether it be from across the table or in front of a beautiful scenery. whenever you’re not with him, he’ll go through the photo album and smile at the beauty.

you walked hand-in-hand with your boyfriend over a bridge that overlooked the han river.

“aw, come on! i was not that awkward,” matthew whined as he recalled the day he confessed to you.

“matthew, you were stuttering and you couldn’t even look me in the eyes,” you giggled, leaning your head on his shoulder. it was true, you had never seen matthew look so nervous until that day three years ago.

“okay, i definitely was nervous. but, you can’t blame me. i liked you so much that i probably wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if you rejected me.” you giggled, pinching his cheek. you settled back into comfortable silence as your eyes wandered around your surroundings.

“the river looks so beautiful with all the lights reflecting on it like that,” you noticed, stopping to stare.

“it really does look beautiful. here, go stand there. let me take a picture,” mathew says, taking out his phone. you walked over towards the edge of the bridge, standing awkwardly in front. you didn’t really know what to do so you just threw up a peace sign as you always did. “come on, y/n. you can do better than that,” matthew says. “you should look at my instagram for inspo,” he grinned behind the camera. you giggled, before throwing your hands back into the peace signs. what you didn’t know is that matthew was able to capture that beautiful smile of yours. “you look so cute!” he praised as he looked at the pictures he took.

taerae:

takes care of you even when he’s mad at you

you’re taerae’s number one moodmaker. so when you fight, it really hurts him. because of that he tends to give you the silent treatment. if he tries to talk to you he knows he’ll break down into tears so he just waits for you to come up to him. but, you can be just as stubborn as him so this could mean whole days without talking. however, taerae feels responsible for taking care of you anyways, so he does so in small and quiet ways, like leaving you coffee in the morning when you wake up, throwing a blanket over you and turning the tv off when you fall asleep on the couch, or folding your laundry just the way you like it without asking, which usually cause you to give in and forgive him.

you had locked yourself in your room for hours, silently crying in your bed as you replayed the scene over in your head. you had never fought so bad with taerae and it was all for nothing. it was stupid. you hated fighting with him. why’d he have to overwork himself so much? why couldn’t he just come home and rest with you? it wasn’t fair that his agency was taking your boyfriend away from you. but it was also his dream, and you couldn’t take that away from him. you just wanted to run into his arms and hug him and tell him everything was okay. but then the scenes of him yelling at you, eyebrows furrowed replayed in your head. you were too stubborn to forgive him so easily. suddenly, you heard a knock at the door. you jolted in your bed, standing up to head to the door. you hesitated before opening it, as you weren’t sure if you wanted to face taerae like this. however, you wiped your tears and opened the door. to your surprise, there was no one there. but you looked down and noticed a cup of tea on the floor. as you picked it up, you noticed there was a note stuck to it.

“i love you no matter what. i’m sorry - taerae”

ricky:

he loves to make you nervous

ricky is such a naturally flirty guy, but only with you. so, he just loves doing little things that he knows will make your heart flutter. you’re usually pretty shy when it comes to physical affection, so ricky loves to catch you off-guard. he loves to see the way your breath hitches and your eyes panic when he does something risky. he doesn’t care if you’re alone or surrounded by people. but secretly, it affects ricky just as much as it does to you. he would never want you to know how fast his heart beats or how his hands shake, when he does these kinds of things.

“hahah loser! i’ve beaten you three times now,” you say as you stick out your tongue at your boyfriend. ricky pouted as he threw the game controller onto the bed.

“it’s just because you’re distracting me!” he whined, throwing himself back on the bed. you shook your head in disbelief.

“what do you mean? i’m just playing mario kart fair and square! i haven’t even talked to you!” you mirrored ricky’s pout, crossing you arms against your chest.

“yeah, well you’re so cute i can’t focus,” he mutters. your breath hitched just the slightest.

“ricky… th-this is just your way of sidetracking me so i’ll lose. guess what? it won’t work!” ricky chuckled, sitting back up as he gripped the game controller.

“we’ll see about that? if i win this next round, you owe me ice cream,” he proposed.

“deal. you won’t win though,” you affirmed. this time you were completely determined to beat ricky, this was ice cream on the line. as the game started, your eyes were focused on the screen. you were pleased to realize you were beating ricky! though he was only two places behind you, you were sure that you could beat him. that was until an overwhelming force pushed your back into the bed. less than a second later, a pair of lips attacked yours. they moved swiftly against yours, his tongue lightly licking your lips. you could feel your heart beating a thousand miles per hour. without realizing it, you became completely captivated and forgot all about the game. but, ricky didn’t. just as quickly as he kissed you, he parted from you, getting back into the game. and before you knew it, he had won.

“RICKY!” you whined, lightly punching his bicep.

“you were totally into it,” he smirked. “and you owe me ice cream.”

gyuvin:

he’s literally attached to your hip

apart from being your boyfriend, gyuvin is your bestfriend. that’s why he wants to do absolutely everything with you. he also thinks you’re literally the cutest person on earth, so he tends to baby you. no matter what you’re doing, gyuvin either has an arm around you, his hand in yours, caressing your face, your hair. there is absolutely no scenario in which gyuvin isn’t touching you in some way. and you’ve become absolutely dependant on his touch, to the point where you’ve become just as needy for his touch.

you were laying on the couch of your shared apartment, gyuvin’s head laying on your lap. your fingers played with his hair, gently ruffling it as your eyes stay stuck on the tv screen. suddenly, you felt a storm in your stomach. gyuvin turned his head to look at you, the corner of his lips pointing upwards.

“are you hungry?” he asked, a cute downward smile on his lips. you nodded slowly, a shy smile on your lips. gyuvin then got up, sitting down next to you.

“how about we go down to the convenience store and get some ramen and snacks?” he suggested, a mischievous smile on his lips.

“you go. i don’t wanna get up,” you whined, leaning against his shoulder.

“come on! you know i can’t do anything without you. plus, you’ll have so much more fun with me than alone here with your tv,” he grinned, standing up in front of you.

“alright, kim kwaja. let’s go,” you sighed, giving him your hand to pull you up.

you walked along the street, your arm locked in gyuvin’s.

“i’m so cold,” you grumbled, snuggling into gyuvin’s chest. “i should’ve just stayed inside.” gyuvin giggled at how cute you looked, all grumpy and annoyed. he took your hands in his, warming them up with friction and placing a kiss on the back of your hands before putting them in his pocket. your cheeks heated up at the sweet act.

“better?” his voice asked, lovingly.

“yeah,” you muttered, cheesing to yourself.

“see. how can you live without me?”

gunwook:

he gets jealous

gunwook’s biggest pride is you. so when he feels like that is being challenged, he tends to get a little irritated. however, he never makes it your problem because he understands that you’re such a charming person that it’s only natural for others to flirt with you. that doesn’t stop him from feeling a little jealous on the inside, though. he’s not usually a confrontational guy, gunwook is such a cutie, especially for you. but when he feels threatened, he tends to puff up his chest and pretend he’s all cool and mighty. you think its the cutest thing in the world.

gunwook had taken you on a date to the amusement park. you’d been nagging gunwook for forever to go and he’d finally complied. after going on all the rides you wanted to go to at least three times, you were both so tired.

“how about we go get something to eat?” gunwook offered, squeezing your hand in his. you nodded enthusiastically.

“how about we get some churros? ooh, and a milkshake?” you you asked, giving gunwook those puppy eyes that always worked on him.

“yeah, yeah, alright. let’s go,” he said, melting completely.

“ooh!” you gasped as you saw a couple wearing matching headbands. gunwook noticed the way your eyes lit up and immediately knew.

“ok, you go get the food and i’ll go get us some cute headbands,” he said with a low chuckle. you giggled, thanking him with a kiss on the cheek before heading to get the food. as you approached the food booth, you noticed a familiar face. your childhood friend, jungwon, was standing in line. as soon as he saw you, his eyes lit up.

“y/n!” he yelled, waving you over. “it’s been so long,” he said as he embraced you in a hug. as you got your food, you engaged in a long and enthusiastic conversation with him.

when gunwook arrived, wearing pink bunny ears and holding another pair in his hand, he didn’t like the view. he didn’t like the way jungwon was looking at you, or the way he kept touching your shoulder when he talked to you. he sped up walking to you and surprised you by wrapping his arm around your waist.

“oh! hi, gunwook. this is jungwon,” you said, smiling.

“hi. i’m her boyfriend, gunwook. nice to meet you,” he said with an unusually deep voice, placing the bunny ears on your head before shaking jungwon’s hand without cracking a smile.

“well, nice to meet you too! i'll get going y/n. it was nice to see you,” jungwon said, giving you a pat on the shoulder before walking away. you smiled at him, then turned towards gunwook.

“you didn’t have to scare him off like that,” you scolded him.

“i just didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” he pouted, wrapping his arms around your waist and hiding his face in your neck.

“you’re just the cutest, aren’t you?” you whisper.

yujin

he’s always blowing up your phone

yujin will literally relate anything he sees to you. because of that he’s always sending you pictures of things that remind him of you, or tiktoks, or memes that will make you laugh. he just sees you in every little thing and wants you to know. when you get home from school, you go straight to your phone to watch all the tiktoks yujin’s sent you and one by one respond to them. he’s also the type of boyfriend that would call you in the middle of a school day. he’d be obsessed with you.

you were able to sneak into the bathroom during math class, since you knew he wouldn’t notice you were gone. you quickly entered the bathroom stall in the far left, and rang your boyfriend. he immediately picked up.

“hi,” he said, all giggly. your cheeks warmed at the sound of his voice.

“hey yujinnie,” you replied, warmly. “how’s your day been?”

“i haven’t seen your face yet, so not that good,” he complained. you laughed lightly, but enough to make yujin smile. “it’s not fair that i don’t get to see you laugh with my own two eyes right now.”

“don’t be so whiny, yujin. here, i’ll turn on my camera,” you gave in. you turned on your camera, your smiling face being the first thing yujin saw. he gasped.

“what is this golden light that’s blinding my eyes? is it a goddess? an angel? oh wait it’s just y/n’s beauty” he announced dramatically. you chuckled, shaking your head.

“hey! now you turn on your camera!” you whined.

“alright, alright,” he complied. instantly, his face filled the screen. you gawked at how beautiful he look under the horrible bathroom lighting. his hair slightly fluffy, and a few strands falling over his eyes. he looked so cute it made you mad.

“you’re alright,” you shrugged.

“after i just compared you to a goddess? just ‘alright’?” he frowned jokingly.

“okay! i guess you’re pretty handsome,” you mutter.

“i’ll take it!”

“sooo, do you wanna go to the movies after school? there’s this really good horror movie i wanna watch!” you suggested.

“sounds good, i’ll meet you there at three? maybe we can grab something to eat beforehand.”

“okay. i’ll see you later!” you said, sending him a kiss through the screen. he grabbed it in the air, holding it against his heart.

“see you later, y/n.” you thought you saw a semblance of pink on his cheeks before the call ended.

#boys planet fics #zb1 #zb1 x reader #zb1 reactions #zb1 drabbles #zb1 scenarios #zerobaseone

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foodshowxyz · 1 month

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Spicy Chashu Ramen with Soft Boiled Egg (Serves 2)

Ingredients:

Ramen Broth (store-bought or homemade - chicken or pork recommended)

For the Chashu Pork:

1 lb boneless pork belly

4 cloves garlic, smashed

1 inch ginger, peeled and sliced

½ cup soy sauce

¼ cup mirin

2 tablespoons sake

2 tablespoons brown sugar

4 cups water

Ramen noodles (fresh or dried according to package instructions)

2 large eggs

1 can (14 oz) bamboo shoots, sliced

4 scallions, thinly sliced (separate white and green parts)

2 sheets nori, cut into thin strips

Chili oil (to taste)

Instructions:

Marinate the Chashu Pork: In a large pot, combine garlic, ginger, soy sauce, mirin, sake, brown sugar, and water. Bring to a simmer, then reduce heat and simmer for 5 minutes. Add pork belly and ensure it's submerged in the marinade. Cover and refrigerate for at least 4 hours, or ideally overnight.

Cook the Chashu Pork: Bring the marinade in the pot to a simmer. Cover and simmer for 1.5-2 hours, or until pork is very tender. Remove pork and let cool slightly in the marinade. Once cool enough to handle, thinly slice the pork belly against the grain. Reserve the remaining marinade for later.

Soft Boil the Eggs: Place eggs in a pot and cover with cold water. Bring to a boil, then immediately remove from heat and cover for 7 minutes for a runny yolk, or 9 minutes for a slightly firmer yolk. Drain hot water and run cold water over the eggs to stop the cooking process. Peel and set aside.

Prepare the Ramen: Cook ramen noodles according to package instructions. While noodles are cooking, heat reserved marinade in a saucepan.

Assemble the Ramen: Divide broth between two serving bowls. Add cooked ramen noodles, then top with sliced chashu pork, bamboo shoots, white parts of scallions, and a soft-boiled egg (cut in half if desired). Drizzle with chili oil to taste.

Garnish and Serve: Top each bowl with green parts of scallions and nori strips. Enjoy immediately!

Tips:

Leftover chashu pork can be stored in the marinade in the refrigerator for up to 3 days.

For a richer broth, you can add a tablespoon of butter or sesame oil to each bowl before serving.

Want to make your own chili oil? Simply infuse neutral oil with crushed red pepper flakes for a few days.

Experiment with other toppings! Popular options include corn, bean sprouts, wood ear mushrooms, and seaweed salad.

#recipe #food #food pics #delicious #food blogs #homemade #ramen noodles #japanese #foodshow #food photography #food recipes #recipes #so yummy

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liminalmemories21 · 4 months

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WIP Wednesday

tagged by @strandnreyes, @paperstorm, @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad, @heartstringsduet, @redshirt2, @bonheur-cafe, @orchidscript, @lemonlyman-dotcom, @three-drink-amy, and @kiwichaeng. Thank you.

I've enjoyed this Valentine's Day spiciness we've had going on today, so let me add some more. Random note in the margin of my draft is . . . anyway I can make this about Valentine's Day (answer - tbd, have to look at my timeline).

He's been craving Thai food all day, and wondering if he can talk TK into ordering tonight instead of cooking, marshaling his arguments in the elevator, and proactively caving on asking for them to make it spicy. He can always add chili oil if he wants. He’s halfway through, “Hey baby, wanna order in tonight,” when he sees TK. Empirically TK isn’t doing anything particularly seductive. He’s got his head bent while he fastens his watch. But, he's wearing black jeans. The ones that cling to his thighs and ass. The ones that hug everything. The ones that he wears when he wants to derail Carlos's entire train of thought.

He stops, hand on the door, staring. TK looks up at the sound. "Hey baby."

He manages to focus long enough to close the door, stepping in to TK for a kiss. "Hey." The fabric of TK's shirt under his hands is soft and a little clingy, the kind of fabric that makes him want to pet at it, pet TK. "You look nice." He looks like sex. "Did I forget something? An anniversary?"

TK shakes his head, leaning up to bite lightly at the corner of Carlo's jaw. "I thought maybe we could go out tonight."

He pulls away far enough to look down at TK, and wonders if he's been broadcasting something he hadn't intended for TK to pick up. TK bites harder at the edge of his jaw and then soothes it with a kiss, and presses something into Carlos's hand. "Been a while since we had fun."

He frowns at TK, playing catch up. "You've been busy."

TK nods. "I know. And this weekend I cleared my calendar." He leans in to nip at Carlos's ear, and he sucks in a sharp breath. "I've missed you." TK slides a hand down to where Carlos is still holding whatever TK handed him and opens his palm out flat and Carlos obediently looks down to see what he's holding.

He looks up at TK sharply. It's the remote to a vibrating plug. The one that TK is holding in his hand. The one they haven't had time to play with in a while. TK kisses his way up Carlos's neck, a kiss punctuating each word. "Every. Good. Boy. Deserves. Fun."

He smirks, turning the remote over in his hand. "And you've been good?"

TK looks up at him from under his lashes. "So good." He steps in closer, nudging a thigh between Carlos's. "I thought you could put this in me, and then we could go out. We could make out on the dance floor, make everyone jealous. Then," he flexes his thigh into where Carlos is already half hard, "you can take me home and fuck me."

He dips his head, curving a hand around the back of TK's neck, licking along his collar bone where it's exposed by the loose collar of the shirt. "What if I can't wait that long? What if I want to fuck you in the club?" TK's breath hitches sharply. "Push you up against a wall." He runs a hand down TK's back to his ass, and then down, following the seam and pressing hard, just to hear TK moan. "You'll be slick and open for me, a little desperate." He pulls back enough to see where TK's biting his lips red. "You're already a little desperate for me."

TK breathes out. "Officer Reyes, I'm shocked. Are you suggesting we commit acts of public indecency?"

He tightens his grip. "Maybe you're enough to make a good man break his leash."

TK sways into him, and makes a discontented noise when Carlos's phone buzzes loudly. He doesn't take his eyes off TK as he digs it out of his pocket and glances at the screen. "It's Matt. He's parking. He has something he needs us to look at."

tagging @jesuisici33, @carlos-in-glasses, @guardian-angle22, @herefortarlos, and @lightningboltreader

#tarlos #au #wip #knave-verse #911 lonestar

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elianamarie-blog · 5 months

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The Things You Give Part 33

Whooooooweeee it's be a very long time! I'm so sorry it took so long to write this! I've been having a hard time feeling motivated but it's past the New Years and I decided that I need to end this story shortly. Story isn't done quite yet, but there are only a few more chapters! I hope you all had a beautiful holiday season and New Years! I know I did. Enjoy the chapter!

Quick note: Danny Masterson has been imprisoned and now Mila Kunis and Ashton Kutcher are under fire and now being cancelled apparently. Not a good start of the year for anyone.

June 1, 1979

Point Place, Wisconsin

Forman/Hyde Residence

Eric Forman’s Kitchen

“Hey, you two, how was your doctor’s appointment?” Kitty asked as she was stirring a hot pot of chili on the stove.

“Ugh,” Y/n groaned and plopped down on the chair at the table.

“The doctor says she can pop any day now,” Hyde answered for her and opened the fridge for a drink.

“Awe, sweetheart, you must be so uncomfortable,” Kitty said.

“I am. I’m so sick of being pregnant,” she whined. “I’m tired, my ankles are fat, my back hurts and—Steven! Will you please stop breathing down my neck?!”

“Uh,” he replied from the counter, no where close to her. “I’m over here.”

Y/n whined again. “I’m so sick of being pregnant.”

“The doctor said there are a couple things we can do to induce labor,” Steven said and pulled out a list. “She said we can try spicy foods, long walks, castor oil—”

“Don’t forget what she said could be more effective,” Y/n cut in.

Steven gave her a stoney look and put his hand on his hip. “I’m not saying that.”

“Why not? She’s a nurse she hears this stuff all the time! Besides, she’s gone through this as well!”

“What? Tell me what?” Kitty asked.

“No, I’m not saying it!”

“Steven!”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake, tell me what?!” Kitty cried out.

“The doctor said sex can be the most effective to induce labor,” Y/n blurted out.

“Y/n, what the hell?!” Steven said, embarrassed.

“Oh,” Kitty said lowly and dropped her gaze back to the chili, almost uninterested. “Okay.”

“Okay? That’s all you got to say?” Y/n asked.

“Honey, it’s pretty clear that you wouldn’t be pregnant if you and Steven hadn’t…you know…”

“Okay!” Steven interrupted. “As nice as this conversation is, I gotta get to work.”

“Okay, fine, but—Mom, cover your ears—we’re doing it later!” Y/n shouted after him as he slammed the door shut, hoping to drown out that last part.

“Well, isn’t that lovely,” Kitty mumbled and poured herself a cup of chili. “Y/n, on a more appropriate topic, do you want some chili?”

“Hey, guys,” Eric introduced himself as he entered the kitchen. “Great news! I’m on my way to becoming a teacher. I filled out all my college application with red pen.” He giggled to himself. “That’s a teacher joke.”

“Well, now look at him!” Red announced as he walked through the kitchen door. “Out of bed and productive before three o’ clock.”

“Honey, you’re like a marine!” Kitty said cheerfully.

“A marine?” Y/n asked. “The only time I ever saw him storm a beach was when he was running away from a jellyfish!”

“Damn, what did you have for breakfast this morning? Carnation Instant Bitch?” Eric quipped.

“If I could get up, I’d kick your ass for saying that,” Y/n threatened, sighing, and shifted uncomfortably in her seat, the pain in lower back starting to intensify.

“Yeah, anyway,” Eric said and turned back to Red. “Hey, dad, all I need from you now is a financial statement so the school can see where I'm getting the old moola.”

“Oh, well, you see about that…” Red mumbled, nervous. “I, uh...I spent your college money to keep the muffler shop going.”

“What?!” the twins shouted.

“You spent our college fund?!” Y/n continued.

“Why do you care?” Eric asked her. “It’s not like you’re going to college anytime soon. You don’t even know what you want to study.”

“Who says I don’t?” she asked. “I decided that I’m going to study biomedical engineering. Beat that, teach.”

“You’re going to study biomedical engineering?!” Kitty asked excitedly. “I knew you were going to take after me in the medical field!”

“Except the difference is she’ll be helping advance technology in the medical field instead of having to wipe people’s butts and administer them their IV’s,” Red said.

“Is that what you think I do all day?” Kitty asked, offended.

“Uh…” he whipped back to Y/n who was looking up at him with an amused smile. “Good job, kitten. I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you,” she responded. “It would mean more if we had our college money!”

“Dad, how are we supposed to pay for college?” Eric asked.

“Look, with this damn mild winter, nobody's muffler rusted,” Red said. “I tried to rust them. I even went out at night and sprinkled salt all over the streets!”

Kitty squinted at her husband. “Not my good kosher salt!”

Red looked at his wife with a deadpanned look and rolled his eyes. “Yes, Kitty, I sprinkled the streets of Point Place with your half-pound bag of salt.”

“Wait. Mom, you knew about this?” Eric asked. “And you just said, ‘Please, go ahead. Take my son's college money and use it on a muffler shop?’”

“No,” she responded. “I think your father asked me if I thought you two would amount to anything, and I said, ‘I really, really hope so.’ And then he said, ‘I'm spending the twins’ college money on my muffler shop.’ And then I made the best blueberry cobbler I have ever made."

“Man, that was good,” Y/n reminisced. “I remember that cobbler. I always wondered why, when I said it was so good, you said, ‘At least I can give you this,’ and started to cry.”

“So, the upshot is, I have absolutely no money for college,” Eric said and puckered his lips in deep thought. “Looks like I’m going to have to use that football scholarship that was offered to me.”

“Oh, Eric, we should go talk to Mr. Bray!” Y/n suggested.

“Our old guidance counselor?” he asked.

“Finding money for college is what high school guidance counselors do.”

“I don't know about Mr. Bray. I don't think he really liked me,” Eric said. “One time I told him I was being bullied, and he just said, ‘What'd you expect?’"

“I’ll go with you,” Y/n said. “Mr. Bray loved me…in almost entirely appropriate ways.”

“Yeah…we’ll go,” Eric said, a little concerned.

“Okay, now that we got all that settled, we should celebrate!” Kitty announced.

Y/n scoffed. “Sure. With what?”

--Later that day—

“Hey, don’t forget about the Led Zepplin concert next Friday,” Eric reminded his friends as they all sat in the basement.

“How could I forget?” Hyde asked. “It was the greatest bribery I’ve ever had.”

Y/n rolled her eyes at them.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Hyde. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing," she sighed, eyeing the TV and rubbed her belly.

“No, no you don’t get to do that just because you’re pregnant,” he pushed. “I know you, what’s wrong?”

“Awe, Steven, that’s really sweet,” Jackie said and turned to Markus. “When he and I were together, he wouldn’t even be bothered to ask me what was wrong. It didn’t even faze him.”

“To be fair, you’re always bothered by something,” Hyde quipped. “It was something new every day. I stopped keeping up after a while.”

“I am not!” she argued and turned to Markus who gave her a look. “Okay, maybe I was, but I’ve changed! The other day, I walked by a shoe sale and wasn’t upset that they didn’t have this beautiful shoe in my size. See? Growth.”

“Sure,” Hyde mindlessly and turned back to his wife. “C’mon, what’s wrong?”

“I’d rather not talk about it in front of our friends,” she responded.

“So, you guys can make out in front of us, even get caught doing it, but expressing why you’re upset is where you draw the line?” Donna pointed out.

“Yeah, spill it!” Fez demanded.

Y/n paused before sighing through her nose. “I don’t think you should go.”

“What?!” Eric shouted.

“Why?!” Hyde asked, appalled. “Why don’t you want me to go?”

“Well, I could go into labor any day now and I’d hate for you to miss the birth of your children for a concert,” she explained calmly.

“Y/n, your due date is on Monday. The kids will be here a full five days before the concert. I think it’ll be okay.”

“What if they’re not here by then? They can be late, you know,” Y/n pointed out.

“Come on, don’t do this,” Hyde said. “Don’t make me choose.”

“I shouldn’t have to make you!” she burst out. “You should know what comes first! Not some stupid concert!”

That made the group audibly gasp.

“What?! What I say?!” she asked them.

“You take that back!” Eric said, his voice wobbly.

“Blasphemous!” Kelso shouted.

“How dare you?” Fez asked under his breath.

“Oh, come on you guys, you can’t be serious,” she said. “Are you telling me my giving birth isn’t as important as some band?”

Everyone was quiet for a minute, filling Y/n with rage.

“It’s Led Zepplin,” Fez said quietly.

“Seriously?!” Y/n screeched and stood up. “You’re all going to leave me here all alone?!”

“I’m not going to the concert,” Markus piped up. “I’ll be here for you.”

She turned to everyone else. “Thank you, Markus. Maybe if I have boys I can name one of them after you!”

This made Jackie gasp. “How dare you?! I thought we agreed on Jack or Jackie!”

“I agreed to nothing!” Y/n argued. “You just assume because you think everyone caters to you, but you can’t be bothered to return the favor! The person who helps me deserves the credit.”

“What--?! That is not true!” Jackie shouted.

Everyone around her scoffed.

“C’mon, Jackie,” Donna said, side-eyeing her.

Jackie spun around to her boyfriend. “Markus! Aren’t you going to say something?”

He shrugged. “Sorry, babe, I have to agree with Y/n on this one.”

“Oh, you are in so much trouble!” she screeched.

Y/n clapped her hands and stomped her foot, gaining their attention. “Guys! Really? I thought that after we’ve all been through, you would want to be there for the birth of your nieces or nephews.” She turned to Hyde. “Or your children.” When no one responded, Y/n scoffed, hurt. “You know, what? I don’t care what you guys do. Go to the concert. Have fun.”

She didn’t let them get another single word out before she quietly walked upstairs to her room.

Once the door slammed, Donna turned to the group. “You guys, I feel really bad.”

“Yeah…I’d be pissed too if I couldn’t go to the concert,” Kelso said casually, opening a popsicle.

“No, you moron! That’s not why she’s upset!” Hyde said, irritated.

“Well, what does she expect us to do?” Eric asked. “Those tickets were a lot and it’s not our fault that the concert falls around the same time of her due date.” When he caught Donna glaring at him, he shrugged his shoulders. “What?!”

“You’re an ass,” Donna said. “I don’t think I want to go anymore.”

“Oh, come on! You have to go,” her boyfriend said. “She may not even have the kids on the day of the concert. It would be such a waste if we didn’t go.”

“Wow, Eric,” Donna said bitterly. “You’re being incredibly insensitive.”

“Okay, let’s say the babies come before the concert. No harm, no foul, amiright?” Eric asked.

“That’s if Hyde wants to go,” Markus responded. “When my sister and her husband had my niece, they were up pretty much three days straight and the last thing they wanted to do was go to a noisy concert.”

“Well, I think she’s being a little dramatic and honestly—quite selfish,” Kelso said. Everyone turned to look at him, finding himself cringing when Hyde gave him a death glare. “What?! She is!”

“She has a point, Michael!” Jackie defended. “No matter how mean and unfair she was to me.”

“You’re telling me that we might miss her birth is an overreaction?” Donna questioned him.

Kelso nodded and shrugged. “Well…yeah!”

“Unbelievable,” Donna said curtly as Hyde slugged Kelso in the arm.

“Ow, Hyde! What the hell?!”

“Keep talking crap about my wife Kelso and you’re going home with more than a bruised arm,” he threatened.

“Damn, sorry I said anything,” Kelso whined while rubbing his sore shoulder.

“You should be,” Hyde said and made his way towards the stairs. “I’m going to go talk to her.”

He took two steps at a time as he followed his bride.

Y/n laid there in bed, glaring at the ceiling. Scenarios of possibilities wouldn’t stop dancing in her head about the day she would give birth while her supposed loving husband was at a concert.

She felt a very wet sensation run down her leg. As she looked down, she noticed that her water had broken, and it wasn’t long until the pain of contractions came along.

“Steven!” she cried out in pain. “Steven, the babies are coming!”

“Oh, really?” he asked, barley looking up from putting his jacket on. “This is inconvenient. Can you wait until I get back from the concert?”

“What?!”

“Look, the babies are important, but…Led Zepplin,” he replied, stepping backwards towards the door. “Just hold those kids in for me! Love you, bye!”

Y/n sneered at the thought, but her mind continued to race.

Smoke, heavy bass, and body sweat filled the air as the group, minus Y/n, head banged their way through each song of Led Zepplin.

“Hey, Hyde, isn’t Y/n giving birth right now?” Donna shouted through the noise, wide smile on her face.

“Yeah, but this is more important!” he shouted back.

“Yeah, to hell with her!” Eric shouted. “Led Zepplin is way more important!”

“Yeah, she’ll be fine,” Steven said. “We can always have more kids that I’ll probably end up being there for the birth!”

Tears started to well in her eyes. “Jerks.”

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

“Y/n?” Steven asked as he poked his head through their shared bedroom door.

She quickly grabbed for her pregnancy book on the nightstand and pretended to be reading.

“Doll, can we talk?”

“About what?” she mumbled.

“You know what.”

“I think you made up your mind, so there’s no point,” she said, staring at the page.

“No, no that’s why I wanted to come up here,” he replied. “Look, I’m sorry, okay?”

“Don’t be.”

“Y/n, can you please look at me?” he asked her and took the book from her, only to see tear streaks down her face. “Awe, Doll…”

She couldn’t stifle her sobs anymore as she broke down. “You love Led Zepplin more than me!” She shoved her face into a pillow.

He didn’t know if he should laugh or groan. “Y/n, come on, you know that’s not true.”

“No, it is!” she continued to wail. “I’m going to go into labor and you’re not going to care!”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, counting to ten. “You know that’s not true.”

“You won’t even help me go into labor!” she whined.

“I’m not going to sleep with you just so you can go into labor,” he deadpanned.

Y/n sat up and wiped at her face. “C’mon, Steven, I’m miserable here! The babies will be fine. It’s doctor recommended!”

“We haven’t even tried the others yet,” he said calmly.

Her face contorted again, fat tears rolling down her face. “You don’t find me attractive anymore!”

“I never said that!” Steven couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Then why won’t you make love to me?!”

“First, don’t say it like that ever again. And second: it has nothing to do with my finding you attractive.”

“Then what is it?” she wept.

“It’s…it’s nothing.”

This made her stop crying immediately and glare at him instead. He almost missed her crying. “What a load of crap!”

“C’mon, Y/n, don’t make me say it.”

“No, you’re gonna!” she demanded. “I want to know why you won’t have sex with your wife to help her go into labor!”

Steven tilted his head back at and stared at the ceiling. Closing his eyes, he groaned before looking back at her. “It’s weird, okay? I’m going to be doing you knowing that the babies are…right there. Knowing what’s going on.”

Y/n scrunched her eyebrows at him. “The babies are in my uterus, not in my, you know, hoo-ha.”

Steven found himself chucking at her euphonism. “What if I hurt them?”

“Like I just said, they’re farther up there than you can reach.”

“Ouch.”

She laughed and placed her hand on his arm. “Trust me, that’s something to be proud of.”

He laughed with her and kissed her.

“Let’s make a deal,” she said, catching his attention. “If I go into labor before the concert, by all means, go. But if I don’t by Friday—you don’t. What do you think?”

He tilted his head to the side, thinking before nodding. “Okay, let’s do it.”

“Okay, good,” she smiled at him as he leaned down to kiss her.

“How bout we try now?”

“Now you want to? Because of a concert?!”

“No, more so now I know I won’t hurt them or make it as weird.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky I love you.”

He laid her down onto her back, hovering above her and gently smiled. “That I am.”

That Following Monday…

“That’s right, still no babies!” Y/n announced as she and Steven walked into the kitchen after their doctor appointment. Everyone sat in the kitchen, hanging out and snacking. Kitty, Donna, and Jackie sat at the table while Eric, Fez, and Kelso sat at the counter munching on some pop-tarts. “Today’s my due date and I am nowhere near in labor! Gah! This sucks!”

She plopped down at the table, causing it to shift.

“Oh, honey, I know how you feel,” Kitty comforted. “When I was pregnant with Laurie, I wanted her out so bad I almost reached a hand up there and yanked her out myself!”

“That’s a great story, Mom. Can you tell that to me while you’re getting me some iced tea?” Y/n snapped.

Kitty glared at her daughter as she reluctantly got up and grabbed for the pitcher in the fridge.

“Damn, pregnancy doesn’t agree with you,” Jackie said. “The bitch hormone is being released.”

“You try carrying twins who won’t stop kicking me—and each other!” she responded as the glass was placed in front of her. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Kitty grumbled as she sat back down.

“Seriously, I’ll wake up in the middle of the night to one or both of the babies moving and kicking me. Have you ever had feet stuck in your ribcage? It’s a rude awakening. Literally.”

“Yeah, I feel your pain,” Hyde said. “Whenever you’re up, I’m up.”

“Oh, shove it!” Y/n spit. “You sleep like a damn log every night! You can be getting attacked while you’re dead asleep and barley stir!”

“No, I hear you. I just choose to stay still.”

“So, while I’m over here in uncomfortable, you’re snuggling your pillow just to avoid me?!”

Fez, Kelso, and Eric shifted their gazes to Hyde with amused smirks on their faces.

“You cuddle your pillow, Hyde?” Eric taunted.

“Shut up, Forman or I will suffocate you with said pillow.”

“But if you do, you won’t have a pillow to cuddle at night,” Fez continued.

“Shut up, Fez!”

“Y/n, have you tried any of the doctor’s suggestions?” Kitty asked.

“Yeah! Steven and I have done it like a dozen times since then,” she answered.

Kitty closed her eyes and rubbed her head. “Honey…have you tried anything else besides that?”

“No, not yet.”

“Well, why don’t you start with food? Let’s go out tonight.”

Y/n shrugged. “Yeah, let’s try that.”

“And the weather is supposed to be cooler tonight, we can go on that long walk,” Hyde said.

She sighed and rubbed her aching neck. “Yeah, that works.”

“There’s a good Indian restaurant that serves the spiciest curry downtown,” Kitty said. “Let’s go there.”

“Uh, do I have to go?” Eric piped up. “Last time I had anything spicy, I sat on the toilet for three days.”

“Ew,” Hyde said and turned to his wife. “Look, I’m going to go look for those specific teas the doc told me about. Do you want anything else?”

“Yeah, just about everything on that list,” she responded. “Get the castor oil, some hot peppers, pineapples—”

“Should I just get the whole store?” Hyde asked.

“Yes please.”

Hyde nodded and kissed her head. “I’ll be back.”

As soon as he walked out the door, Y/n stood. “Well, I’ve got to pee again. I swear these damn kids think that my bladder is a squeeze toy.”

“She’s got to have those kids any day now,” Donna said once Y/n had waddled out the kitchen.

“Yeah, it’s not like they’re trying,” said Kelso. “Hyde told me yesterday that she promised him that if she can give birth before Friday then he can go to the concert. Man, that must suck. Having an ol’ ball and chain telling you what to do.”

“Well, you’d never know since you’re too busy cheating on every girl you’ve ever dated,” Jackie snarked.

“Well, what do you say we make this interesting?” Kelso asked, ignoring Jackie’s comment.

“What do you mean?” Eric asked, tossing a Styrofoam football in the air.

“I’ll bet you ten bucks she has the babies tomorrow,” he responded with a wide smirk.

“You’re on!” Jackie said excitedly and reached for her purse.

“Guys, I don’t feel right about this,” Donna said. “It’s not cool to bet on when our friend will go into labor.”

“Ugh, Donna,” Y/n called as she waddled down the stairs. “That candle you gave me smells horrible. Next time, maybe try getting me a candle that doesn’t smell like nature took a dump and forgot to flush.”

“It’s the smell of a forest!” she defended.

“Have you ever been to the forest?” Y/n said. “It doesn’t smell like that.”

Before she could let Donna respond, she waddled back upstairs. Once the door closed, Donna turned back to the group, annoyance written all over her face. “Make it twenty.”

--Later—

“Guys, I got some great news from the guidance counselor!” Eric announced as he ran into the living room where his family and Donna were sitting, watching TV.

“Yeah? What is it?” Red asked, turning down the volume on the TV.

“There's this program where you go and teach in an impoverished area for a year, and then they pay for your college. So, I signed up.”

“Eric, that’s wonderful!” Kitty cheered.

“That’s awesome!” Y/n joined in.

“See? I knew spending your college money would work out for the best,” Red said, smugly. “You're welcome.”

“So, where’s this impoverished place that you’re going to?” Steven asked.

“Is it east Milwaukee? You know I made a wrong turn there once and I ended up in this awful neighborhood,” Kitty said and lowered her voice as if anyone outside the living room could hear her. “They were playing radios on street corners!”

Eric shook his head. “No, I’m not going to east Milwaukee.”

“So, where then?” Donna asked.

Eric laid his hands out, palms up in excitement. “Its Africa.”

“Africa?!” Everyone said in shock.

“Africa, Wisconsin?” Kitty asked hopefully.

“No, Kitty, the country,” Red answered.

“You’re going to teach in Africa?” Y/n asked, her heart breaking. “So, does that mean you’re not going to be here when the babies are born?”

“No, no, I’ll still be here,” Eric said. “I’ll be leaving in August.”

“Oh,” she responded. “H-how long will you be gone?”

“About a year.”

“A YEAR?!” All three women shouted.

“What’s the big deal?” Eric asked, eyebrows knitting in confusion.

“The big deal is you made this big decision without coming to me at all!” Donna shouted and stood from the couch and stormed out.

“See? Donna understands,” Kitty said while Eric sighed in defeat.

This isn’t how he was planning this go at all.

--Later that evening--

“Joey?” Y/n asked her husband as they sat at the kitchen table, eating dinner.

Hyde shook his head. “Have a cousin named Joey. Last I heard he was being treated for VD and on his way to a halfway house.”

“Oookay,” Y/n said, going down the list of names in her book. “Victoria?”

“No.”

“Why not?!”

“Because my mom had a best friend named Victoria.” He paused to take a bite of his spicy food before going into deep thought. “Pretty sure at one point she was more than that.”

Y/n gave him a blank stared smile. “I’ll never be able to erase that image out of my mind.”

“How bout Jimmy?”

Y/n put down the book. “Why Jimmy?”

He shrugged and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I’ve just always liked that name.”

She squinted her eyes at him. “Since when?”

“I don’t know, a few years maybe.”

“Or maybe because it’s the name of the guitarist in Led Zepplin?”

Hyde pretended to be shocked. “Is that where that’s from? Wow, what are the odds?”

Y/n rolled her eyes at him. “Keep thinking, genius.”

“Eleanor?” he suggested.

“I’m sorry, am I giving birth to a seventy-five-year-old?”

“What’s wrong with Eleanor?”

“I feel like I’d be giving birth to a Roosevelt. No, thank you.”

“We can call her Ellie for short,” he argued.

“Ellie Hyde?” she questioned.

“Let’s keep brainstorming,” he agreed and looked at her plate which she barely touched. “Why aren’t you eating your spicy curry? I added extra peppers for you.”

Y/n let out a sigh and put down her book. “It’s not working. Nothing is going to get these kids out.”

“You’ve barley taken a bite out of your food. Maybe if you eat half of it, you’ll actually go into labor.”

“If I eat anymore, I’ll be breathing out fire,” she deadpanned.

“Come on, it’s good. Try it,” he encouraged before taking a bite of her curry. It didn’t take long for the spices to set his mouth aflame. He started panting like a dog before desperately grabbing her glass of water and downing it like a man who hasn’t had water in days.

“Oh, my God,” he panted once the water was down. “How are you eating this?”

Y/n gave him an amused smile. “I’m about to push two human beings out of me, I think a hot mouth is the least of my worries.”

“Speaking of hot mouth, why don’t you and I go upstairs and try to get these babies here?” Hyde suggested, wiggling his eyebrows.

“C’mon, we’ve done it like a hundred times; clearly the babies aren’t coming,” she replied, defeated.

“You don’t know that,” he replied gently.

Y/n shook her head, defeated. “I guess these babies will come when they decide to.”

Steven looked at her before standing to his feet. “Come on. We’re going for a walk.”

45 Minutes Later...

“I told you the walk wouldn’t work!” Y/n complained as they walked through the sliding door, picking out leaves and twigs from her hair.

“Well, it would’ve if you hadn’t tried to jump on me in the park!” Hyde argued as he looked down at the mud stains on his pants and shirt.

“I was trying to be romantic!”

“You’re trying to get these kids out of you so fast, you’re willing to knock us both over in a big puddle just for a quickie behind a bush!”

“How the hell was I supposed to know there was a deep mud puddle there?!” she yelled, prying her wet and muddy dress away from her thighs.

“Gee, I don’t know, maybe the fact that it RAINED earlier?” he yelled back.

“Ugh, you know what, I’m going to go shower. Don’t follow me!”

“What is going on?” Eric asked as he entered the kitchen with Donna. He took one look at the couple and started laughing. “What happened to you two?”

“Y/n thought it would be the perfect time to get romantic on a walk in the park to try to go into labor,” Steven replied, glaring at his wife who wasn’t even looking at him.

Eric scrunched up his nose at them. “Sorry I asked.”

“I’m going to go shower because the mud is started seal my butt cheeks together,” Y/n announced before waddling out the kitchen.

“Didn’t need to know that!” Eric cried out and turned back to Hyde. “So, are you guys going to keep trying?”

Hyde sighed frustratingly. “At this point, I don’t know. We’ve tried spicy foods, canola oil, sex…nothing is working. The long walk may have worked if she hadn’t cut it short.”

“Well, you know, maybe the babies will come tomorrow…or in a couple days…” Donna suggested and nonchalantly grabbed a soda from the fridge.

“I don’t know. I’m starting to think these kids are going to come closer to the concert and I just got to accept the fact that I’m not going to be able to make it.”

“What?! No, Hyde don’t say that,” Eric said. “You’re going to be able to have those babies and still go to the concert.”

“You know, Hyde, maybe you’re not doing this right,” Donna said and sat at the table. “Maybe, the babies will come tomorrow or Wednesday…”

Hyde squinted his eyes at her. “Why? Why tomorrow or Wednesday?”

She shook her head. “No reason!”

Hyde rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever. I’m going to shower as well. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

Once he was out of earshot, Eric turned to Donna.

“Way to almost blow our cover!”

---

Tuesday came and go with Y/n getting more miserable by the minute.

“It’s Tuesday night, she can still have the baby tonight!” Jackie argued.

“You had until 8pm. You can’t bend the rules now. Now pay up!” Donna chortled and held out her hand.

“Fine!” Jackie screeched and reached into her purse. “Here’s your stupid twenty bucks!”

“Thank you,” Donna said smugly and fanned her face with the two tens.

“Okay, double or nothing she has them by tomorrow,” Jackie said.

“I bet she’ll have them by Thursday,” Kelso said.

“I bet you’re all wrong,” Eric said. “I want to say she’ll have them by Sunday.”

“And I bet she’s losing six friends,” Markus piped up, disgusted at their behavior.

“Five,” Eric corrected. “She can’t lose me. I’m her brother after all.”

“I don’t think that’s going to make a difference,” Markus said.

“Markus, baby, shush,” Jackie said, tapping his leg. “We’re just having a little fun.”

“Fun?” he questioned. “You’re betting on your friend’s pain and misery! I don’t think she would classify this as fun.”

“She would if it was any one of us,” Eric pointed out.

“Only with you,” Donna chuckled. “She’s fine with the rest of us.” She looked up to Kelso who was mindlessly sucking on a popsicle. “Well, maybe Kelso too.”

He looked down at her, frowning, pausing with the popsicle still in his mouth. “Why me?”

“Because it’s so easy,” Fez added in, laughing. “Like you.”

---

“That’s it, I give up!” Y/n said, exasperated three days later as she and her husband sat in the basement. “I’m done trying to get these kids to come out. They’ll come when they come.”

“No, don’t give up yet,” Eric said, faux-sympathetic.

“You just want them to be born so you can go to the concert,” she grumbled.

Eric’s gaze flicked to the rest of the group; Hyde staring at him suspiciously.

“Y-you can keep trying…even if it takes you to Sunday,” he said.

“Or Monday!” Jackie piped up. “I think you’ll go into labor then.”

“Nah, I’m saying Tuesday,” Fez said.

Y/n squinted her eyes at her friends. “Okay, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Fez squeaked.

“Uh huh, and I’m calling bologna,” she said, eyes never leaving Fez’s nervous ones.

“Nothing you’ll be interested in,” Jackie said.

“Yeah? Try me.”

Everyone was silent, not daring to speak up, until—

“We’ve all been making a bet to see when you’ll go into labor!” Fez blurted out.

“FEZ!” Everyone shouted.

“What the hell?!” Eric shouted.

“Unbelievable!” Donna cried out.

“Big mouth!” Jackie chimed in.

“Traitor!” Kelso added.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t lie to her!” Fez said.

“But you can bet money on me?!” Y/n shouted. “I can’t believe you guys!”

“Yeah! How could you do this and not let me in on it?!” Hyde shouted.

Y/n snapped her head to him. “WHAT?!”

“C’mon, we’re both so miserable here, at least let’s make some money out of it,” he defended.

“Oh, yeah I’m sure all that sex has helped ease the pain,” Fez grumbled bitterly.

“Shut up, Fez,” Hyde demanded, making Fez pout and turn away.

“You know the worst part is you guys didn’t include me on this,” Y/n continued.

“What?” the group asked in unison.

“Well, like Steven said, if I’m going to be miserable, I might as well make some money!”

“Hey, you’re cooler about this than I thought you would,” Markus said.

“If I wasn’t pregnant and desperate to get these kids out, I wouldn’t be,” she said. “Now, tell me, how high is the bet?”

“Forty,�� he responded casually.

“Forty?!” Y/n screeched. “C’mon I’m worth more than that!”

“It’s all I’ve got in my purse,” Jackie responded bitterly. “Unless you have more money.”

“I know Hyde does,” Kelso smirked.

Hyde glared at him. “Drop it before I drop you.”

The Next Day…

“C’mon, babies, just stay in there until after tonight,” Eric encouraged, talking to his sister’s belly.

“You know that’s not how that works,” she responded, laughing at him.

“They can still hear right? Maybe they will listen.”

“Yeah, in your dreams, Forman,” Hyde said as he sat next to his wife on the couch.

“Come on, babies, if you wait to come out and let Daddy go to the concert with Uncle Eric, I promise I’ll give you whatever you want.”

Y/n couldn’t help but chuckle. “I don’t think they’re coming out anytime soon. You guys can go to the concert tonight, it’s fine.”

“YES!” Eric cheered.

“You sure?” Hyde asked genuinely and turned to her. “What if you go into labor while I’m gone?”

“I still have my parents here and Markus said he’ll be a phone call away if I need him,” she reassured him.

Hyde made a face at her. “I don’t know how I feel about this new guy helping you.”

“Would you rather it be Fez or Kelso?”

He smacked his lips in thought. “Good point.”

“Besides, I think it’ll be nice to just be me tonight,” she continued. “I can finally start that book I’ve wanting to read.”

“Vogue Magazine isn’t a book,” Eric reminded.

“Neither are comics,” she snapped back.

“Then why are they called comic books?” he shot back.

Y/n sighed. “Either way, I’m looking forward to finally getting some alone time.”

“As long you’re okay with it. And I won’t be out long,” Hyde promised.

“Okay,” Y/n said, smiling at him and kissed him. “I’m going to go take a nap. Wake me up before you leave.”

Hyde nodded as he helped her off the couch. Just as she did, she clutched her stomach, hissing sharply.

“Oh!” she yelped, bending over.

“Oh, my God! Y/n!” Hyde reacted quickly, reaching for her so she didn’t stumble forward.

“Y/n, are you okay?!” Eric asked her with wide eyes.

“Yeah, just kidding,” she giggled and walked upstairs.

The two young men let out a breath of relief and glared at her as she walked up the stairs.

“Sometimes, I really, really don’t like her,” Eric griped.

--Time Skip—

“Y/n, I’m leaving!” Steven said as he gathered his wallet, keys, and tickets together.

“I’m coming,” she called out as she waddled down the stairs.

He met her at the bottom of the stairs and placed his hands on her hips, leaning down to kiss her. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

“More than,” she said, grinning. “You go and have a great time, okay?”

“I will. I left the number for you on the counter to the venue in case anything happens.”

“Look at you, being all worried and responsible,” she teased.

He chuckled and kissed her gently. “I love you. I’m serious—call.”

“I will,” she said and hugged him. “I love you. Have fun.”

“Will you stop making out with my sister and get in the car?” Eric asked impatiently. “Led Zepplin isn’t going to wait for us.”

“Shut up, Forman,” Hyde said and turned to Y/n once more. “Try to not have those babies until I get back.”

“I will definitely try,” she replied sweetly before giving him one more kiss. “Now, go. Enjoy the concert. Oh! Wait there for a moment.” She ran back to the kitchen before returning to the front door with a camera in her hand. “Take some pictures for me.”

Hyde held the large polaroid camera in his hand and looked at his wife. “You want me to take pictures the whole time?”

She nodded innocently. “Yeah!”

“No,” he deadpanned and set the camera on the couch.

“What? Why?!”

“I’m going to be busy rocking and rolling, not taking pictures of the band.”

“Steven, please! Just because I can’t be there doesn’t mean I don’t want pictures!”

“Yeah, that’s a lot of pictures that I don’t want to take and have to keep track of. No, thanks.”

“Why’re you being so stubborn?”

“Hey, if you wanted to see Led Zepplin, you should be going,” Eric piped up from behind them.

“You literally bought tickets for everyone but me,” she snipped.

“Correction: I bought them for me, you, Hyde, and Donna. Kelso bought tickets for him and Hyde,”

“But…Jackie’s not going, what're you doing with that extra ticket?” Y/n inquired.

“Yeah…he thought he was going to be able to score with her, but then she met Markus and quite frankly, I think Kelso is afraid of him. So, he’s bringing Fez,” Eric answered.

“I’m not even going to question that,” she said and turned back to her husband. “You be careful and have fun. But not too much fun!”

“Alright, cool, let’s go!” Eric pushed and shoved Hyde out the door.

“What the hell, man?” Hyde asked outside the door.

“We still have to pick up Kelso and Fez and I’d rather not be later because you couldn’t stop being mushy with my sister,” Eric responded and closed the door before Y/n could hear what Hyde had to say.

Y/n looked down to her stomach and held it between her hands. “Well, guys, it looks like it’s just us. What do you guys want to do? We can watch TV, read a book…eat a tub of ice cream?” A kick to the stomach confirmed her question. “Ice cream it is!”

Later that night…

Y/n sat on the couch in the living room watching a rerun of Three’s Company when the doorbell rang. When she answered the door, Jackie and Markus stood there.

“What’re you guys doing here?” Y/n asked them.

“Well, we know you’re by yourself tonight so we figured you’d like some company,” Markus said with a bright smile and held up a Fatso Burger bag. “We also brought food.”

“Well, I wouldn’t put it that nicely, but yeah same,” Jackie said and welcomed herself in.

“Oh, uh, well thanks,” Y/n said and closed the door. “You guys don’t have to be here. My parents are home and if anything happens, they’ll be here.”

“Nonsense. We’re your friends,” Markus said and sat down on the couch. “Besides, we figured you were hungry.”

“Always,” Y/n said and waddled over to the couch. “This was really nice of you. Thank you.”

“Not a problem,” Markus said, smiling and handing her a wrapped burger. “What’re we watching?”

“Three’s Company. It’s the one where Chrissy takes a freelance job as an X-rated writer for a fictional diary,” Y/n responded, watching the screen.

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Jackie said, digging into her fries.

After they had finished their meals and the episode ended, another one was starting soon as they all had settled back into the couch.

“No, no, no that’s ridiculous,” Markus argued. “Why would Doc Ock be Spider-Man’s greatest enemy? It’s always been Green Goblin!”

“The Green Goblin is Peter’s most famous enemy, but it makes sense that his greatest enemy is Doc Ock because think about it: Your mentor and friend turning bad? Can you imagine the betrayal?” Y/n countered.

“But Green Goblin was his best friend’s dad! That also has to mean something! Then, once his dad died, his best friend became the Green Goblin!”

“Yeah, that would mean something if Harry hadn’t tried to kill Peter first!”

“To be fair, Harry didn’t know about Spider-Man’s identity until later.”

“And to be fair, this conversation is killing me,” Jackie piped up, bored.

“Yeah, but—” Y/n was cut off by an abrupt sharp pain down in her lower abdomen. Her hands flew to her stomach and held her breath as the pain radiated and quickly subsided. She let out a sigh of relief.

Markus and Jackie sat up straight as Markus’s hands hovered over Y/n. “A-are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Y/n responded, breathlessly. “That was weird. Anyway, as I was saying—OH!”

Another sharp pain reared its ugly head, radiating through her pelvis to her back and down her legs. “Oh, my God!” Her grip on the couch tightened, knuckles turning white. She could feel her abdomen tighten rock-hard as she felt the pain become more intense.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?” Jackie asked.

Y/n couldn’t respond and could only whimper.

“Oh, my God,” Markus said, panicking and jumped from the couch. “Oh, my God! Not now!”

All Y/n could do was shake her head as the pain was starting to subside to the point where she could get some words out. “No, no, it can’t be. It can take a while for the babies to get here. It could just be the beginning stages.”

“The beginning stages of what?” Jackie asked.

Markus looked at her with a panicked and wild look in his eyes. “Are you serious?!”

“What?!” she asked, matching his energy.

“She’s in labor, Jackie!”

“Oh,” Jackie said calmly, but then it hit her. “OH!”

“We need to get you to the hospital,” Markus said, rushing to get her up from the couch.

“That’s not necessary,” Y/n said, another sharp pressure coming on as she stood. “The book said contractions need to be five to ten minutes apart before going to the hospital. Labor can take a while.”

Markus sighed a small breath of relief before looking down and his eyes widening. “And what does the book say about that?”

Y/n looked down on the floor at her feet as she felt some wetness.

Her water had broke.

Taglist: @not-shy-nanya @taysirene @maddieschampagneproblems @mdittyz123 @undead-sierra @random-thoughts-004 @lieswithoutfairytales @chloem4a1 @srhxpc @zhonglibxitch @leothesquishy

#that 70s show #steven hyde #that 70's show fanfic #steven hyde x reader #eric forman #donna pinciotti #jackie burkhart #that '70s show #red forman #kitty forman #friends quotes #rachel green #source: friends

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kfedup · 8 months

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Huge thanks again to @hthrrloooo for responding to my desperate ask the other day. I wish I’d had the energy to actually make it that day, but I finally did yesterday, totally forgetting that it also needs to be chilled overnight to separate the fat.

I’m just back from the most aggravating dog walk ever, hangry, wiped out, and all snotty again from the cold air, and am sipping a mug of this pure medicine with minced fresh cilantro and I can feel it working on my battered immune system. I was too lazy to slice the chili pepper but gave the mug a dash of Aleppo pepper flakes

Here’s hoping it helps with my shitty attitude, too. I think next weekend I will do a big stockpot full of this and freeze containers to have on hand for whatever next garbage germ invades my worn out system. My ears are still completely fucked with constant tinnitus and feeling like they’re full of water. Methinks a bath and maybe some Mullein-Garlic Oil drops at bedtime. I really want a hot toddy but that’s a slippery slope I know I shouldn’t climb.

#nytcooking #nigella lawson #head cold #home remedies #i want pizza #and cake #and for someone to play with my hair and tell me all the things they love about knowing me #is that too much to ask

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pan-de-queer · 1 year

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x marks the spot (where i left my heart) [supercorp]

Genre: Fluff, First Kiss, Getting Together

Summary:

Because of Lena, Kara’s learned that permanence is tangible. Real. Permanence feels soft and cool and callous on the tips of her thumbs. Permanence is gentle and purposeful and trembles when she kisses its forehead. Permanence runs slender fingers through her hair and whispers sarcastic commentary in her ear. Permanence feels a lot like love.

Or: Lena uses her riches for gay good, Kara uses her words, and everyone gets a hug and kiss.

Author's Note: finally finished the day 3 prompt for my "100 ways to say i love you" series for supercorp! prompt is "no, no, it's my treat." lmk what y'all thouggghhttt

ao3

x marks the spot (where i left my heart)

Kara had never realized how often Lena did it until Alex had pointed it out one day.

They were all hanging out at the alien bar one Friday night when a plate of cheese-covered fries was placed right in front of her. Kara had looked up at the waitress with a crinkle between her brows but before she could even ask, the waitress gave her a knowing smile. “Your lady over there told me you’ll need double of that tonight.”

The waitress left her with a steaming plate of fries that she reflexively protected from Nia’s thieving grasp despite the crinkle never easing. Kara craned her neck and easily found her supposed benefactor leaning casually against the bar counter waiting for their drinks.

It wasn’t the first time Lena had ever ordered food for her, but it always left a warm feeling in Kara’s stomach to know that Lena knew her so well.

Lena could rattle off every single one of her favorite food orders by heart now—from the extra cheese and bacon in her burgers at Big Belly to the drop of chili oil and quarter lemon squeezed into her soy sauce for her potstickers to the extra pepper sprinkled on to her morning eggs.

There was something intimate and vulnerable about someone knowing her so well that they know the way she likes to eat her food, knows what Kara needs before she (or her stomach)’s even said it, knows what’ll cheer her up or get her to calm down, knows how to convince her to eat healthy even if she doesn’t really need it. Something intimate about the way Lena knows her—in all the ways Kara’s learned to know Lena as well.

She knows that Lena loves only the simplest of sauces to go with her salads. She knows Lena hates salmon in almost the same way Kara hates kale (and most green veggies) but is way too polite to ever complain about it if left with no other meal choice (unlike Kara, who may or may not have faked a Supergirl emergency to escape such a fate or five). Knows that Lena likes her coffee black but likes a splash of milk in her tea (Lena says it’s different when it’s tea but Kara’s not quite convinced). Knows that Lena forgets to eat when she’s stressed out with work and projects, or when she’s sad and has more alcohol than blood running through her veins, or when she’s angry and works more on trying to fix the solution than on feeding herself, or when she’s overly excited and she forg—

Okay, so Lena’s dietary habits definitely need to be improved, but the point is—

Kara and Lena have known each other for almost six years now, and in that time, they’ve both made the effort to learn the little and big things about each other. Despite the secrets and heartbreak and hurt, despite the stilted conversations and painful rebuilding, despite the uncertainty and shy hope, somehow, some way, they’d managed to keep the things they knew about each other safe. Treasured. Sacred.

“What are you smiling at?” Nia’s voice broke through her thoughts, smug and knowing and smirk-y.

Kara could only elbow her away (because she wasn’t staring at Lena, she was just making sure the bartender remembered all their drinks) just as the last drink was placed on Lena’s tray. She shot Nia a quick, half-hearted glare before quickly turning back to her fries and eating.

Not to hide the blooming heat on her cheeks or anything, obviously. Her fries were just getting cold.

Cheers erupted from their friends when Lena arrived, a flurry of hands moving to pass each other their respective glasses and bottles. Kara watched the quick grabs for barely a minute before Lena placed the almost-empty tray in front of her fries, everyone having left their drinks alone.

“Enjoying the appetizer, darling?” Lena asked as Kara pulled out the empty chair right next to her. With chipmunk-cheeks puffing up her face, Kara nodded happily as she swallowed the greasy saltiness down, wiping her hands on her pants as she reached for her pocket.

“It’s great! Let me pay you back; how much did it cost?” Kara pulled her wallet out of her pocket, but before she could even open it, cold pale hands closed over hers as Lena chuckled and shook her head, “It’s my treat, darling.”

Kara whined half-heartedly, “It’s always your treat!”

“Well, I’ve always been a billionaire since I met you.” Lena laughed, her cheeky smirk making Kara blush. “It’s only fair considering the number of times you’ve saved me.”

“That’s not even remotely the same!”

“Was it not you that said the way to your good graces was through your stomach?”

“I said the way to my heart was through good food. Besides, you’re always in my good graces.” And you’ve been in my heart since the day we met, Kara’s traitorous brain piped up, blue eyes determinedly keeping away from the mind-reading Martian on the other side of the table (most times, Kara felt like J’onn could still read her thoughts despite her Kryptonian genes). Thankfully, Lena’s warm laughter kept her occupied.

“Touching, darling, but just accept the fries.”

Kara pouted in reply, stuffing a handful of fries into her mouth petulantly as Lena hummed in non-apology.

It was nice.

Being the sole focus of Lena’s attention was really, really nice.

As the night got darker and the day got later, the Superfriends started bowing out one by one, promising to see each other the following week on game night. Soon enough, it’s just Kara, Lena, Alex, and Kelly.

“Take care, you two,” Kelly gave them each a hug, Kelly giving Lena another squeeze of a hug before she stepped out to inform the babysitter that she and Alex were on their way back.

It was Alex’s turn right after, her sister pulling them both in a hug before making Kara promise to make it to sister night this coming week. As the pair watched Alex disappear out the door, Lena nudged Kara’s shoulder with her own. She tried not to shiver at the way long, cold fingers slid down her forearm, tracing the lines of her palm before Kara tangled their fingers together and Lena replied with a gentle squeeze (and Kara’s always amazed at how Lena is always so, so gentle with her. Sometimes Kara wonders if she forgets that she’s Supergirl. Most times, she’s thankful for it).

“Let’s go home?” Lena asked, head tilted as if Kara had any other answer.

“Yeah, let’s go home.”

All that had happened a week ago. Now, it’s Sister’s Night and Alex is demanding they watch a thriller movie since Kara had missed last week’s sister night to spend time with Lena (no regrets). Kara vehemently argues the psychological repercussions of making her watch a thriller but Alex isn’t having it. She’s stuffed the remote into her bra before diving face first into the couch, clutching it for dear life despite the fact that Kara can easily pry her off of it.

In the end, Kara gives in after only a couple more protests and a complaint-filled text to her best friend.

Thankfully, after Kara had texted Lena her Sister Night woes, Lena sends five orders of potstickers and two boxes of pizza to get her through the film. As soon as the orders arrive, she grabs the food and places everything on the counter, too busy checking each delivery to realize that she’s minutes away from getting grilled (or lovingly questioned, according to Alex).

Her Alex-senses are dulled at the sight of printed writing stuck on slips of paper taped to each order. The potstickers’ note reads “good luck, hero x” and the pizza’s “as always, these are both my treat xo.”

Kara folds the notes up with a pleased little grin, pocketing each paper before pulling out plates and glasses for their movie night dinner. She doesn’t notice how quiet Alex is as her older sister helps transfer the food onto the coffee table.

Kara’s already four pizza slices and twelve potstickers in when Alex finally tries to ask her anything.

Alex’s words come out slow and careful. “It was very generous of Lena to send over all this food.”

Her eyes narrow at the tone, suspicious of the questions hidden under the statement. “…Yes? She’s always generous.”

“I noticed,” Alex’s voice is wry, smile just as dry as she places her second slice of pizza down on her plate.

Kara feels that prickle of defensiveness start to bubble up at Alex’s pointed reply, but her sister continues before she can butt in. “But she’s always been a little more generous with you.”

“We’re best friends! Best friends can give each other gifts whenever they want to.”

“Really? ‘Cause my best friend’s never bought out half a restaurant for me.”

“This is far from half a restaurant, Alex.”

“I was talking about that time she rented out Uncle Chen’s for the night because you were finally feeling better about the whole Mon-El thing.”

She huffs, potstickers no longer as appetizing as when they started. “So? Lena likes doing nice things for her friends!”

“I don’t recall Lena buying out Big Belly for me, or buying Winn that fancy new tech toy they’d been geeking out about together, or getting Kelly that new sundress they’d seen at the mall. I’m not saying she wouldn’t if we asked, but Kara, you never have to ask for her to give you things. She just does.”

“You make it sound like a bad thing.”

“The opposite, actually. You mean something to her, Kara. And I’m pretty sure she means something to you, too.”

Kara’s mouth flounders, the words on the tip of her tongue too far out of reach. “She’s…”

Her friend.

Her best friend.

Her favorite.

Her rock.

Her hero.

Her—

“Everything.” Kara finds herself settling on the word that still doesn’t feel enough.

Being in love with Lena isn’t new, she knows, but saying it out loud definitely is. Saying it out loud feels like daring Rao to take Lena from her just like he took Krypton. Saying it out loud feels like begging for a miracle as your entire world collapses before your eyes. Saying it out loud feels like begging for air after being stuck in a timeless piece of space for twenty four years.

Saying it out loud feels like a prayer.

Like a promise.

Like it’s permanent.

It’s such a strange thing to feel. Ever since she’s arrived on Earth, Kara’s had a little timer ticking in the back of her mind. She’s lost Kyrpton, she’s lost her role as her cousin’s protector, she’s lost Astra, Adam, Jeremiah, Mon-El—some days she feels like she’s waiting for everything else to slip away, too.

Permanence has always felt like the tide, impossible to catch but easy to watch. Easy to stare at in longing as it laps at one's toes only to pull away again and again and again.

Alex and Eliza have made it easier to touch—easier to feel a lick of permanence wash over her every time they cuddle up for Danvers’ (sister’s) night or pick up her calls. Her new family’s made it all a little easier, too. Knowing that Winn and James and J’onn and Lucy and Kelly and Esme and M’Gann were all there to support her, cheer her on, and just be there has helped to ease the weight in her chest over the past few years.

And Lena.

Lena’s probably made it the easiest for her to imagine—to hope.

To hope that maybe permanence was unlimited access to a CEO’s office only weeks after meeting, or gala invites with potstickers on the menu despite the michelin star service, or wanting to stay to talk things through when you disagree on things (and being able to see their side, too), or being someone’s hero outside of her suit, or risking your secret identity when you think their life’s in danger, or realizing that you’re jealous of their ex, or them choosing you and you choosing them. Over and over and over again.

Because of Lena, Kara’s learned that permanence is tangible. Real.

Permanence feels soft and cool and callous on the tips of her thumbs. Permanence is gentle and purposeful and trembles when she kisses its forehead. Permanence runs slender fingers through her hair and whispers sarcastic commentary in her ear. Permanence says it hates dancing but dances with her anyways. Permanence forgets to eat sometimes but always makes time to have lunch with her.

Permanence texts her good morning and sweet dreams every single day. Permanence holds her close and cries when she cries. Permanence makes mistakes and apologizes and does its best to be better. Permanence makes her laugh and smile and feel light and floaty.

Permanence feels a lot like love.

Permanence acts a lot like Lena.

“Alex,” Kara breathes as if the air’s been knocked out of her. This isn’t new. It isn’t. And yet.

And yet.

“I love her.”

It’s different.

“I’m in love with her.”

Alex lets her head fall on to her shoulder as Kara reels with the weight of the words on her tongue for the first time in her life. It isn’t new. Her love. But the taste of it on her tongue is like potstickers after a crappy day. Heaven-sent. Galaxy-bending. Everything.

Alex pulls her close as a shaky breath leaves her lips. She can feel her sister drop a kiss on her head before murmuring, “Then maybe it’s time you let her know that.”

Kara decides to tell Lena that Friday.

She asks J’onn (and Alex) for that day off and they gladly tell her not to come in for anything less than the apocalypse. She asks Jess to make sure Lena doesn’t get any surprise meetings or extra paperwork and finds the task done within the hour. She finishes her work as fast as humanly possible and emails it to Lois to check over real quick just to ensure that Snapper doesn’t force her to redo it another seven times (Snapper makes her redo it only twice, which is a record all on its own, really). The second she’s done with work, Kara flies out for a little round-the-world supply run: pasta and pizza from Italy, Bailey’s cheesecake from Ireland, wine from Argentina, and a quick stop to South Korea for a potsticker or fifty.

When she gets back home, she unloads all the food on her kitchen counter and speeds her way through a quick shower and into a panicked phone call with Alex on what she should wear (“Anything is fine, Kara, seriously. You could wear a trash bag and Lena would still find a way to stare at your arms.” It doesn’t really help, but Alex takes some pity on her and they settle on a crisp blue button down and black slacks).

She feels a little more confident after Kelly and Esme compliment her (their, Alex corrects) outfit choice, so by the time Kara’s stored away the dessert, chilled the wine, and reheated their main meal, she feels a lot less jittery about the conversation she hopes to have tonight.

She’s mostly over her freaking-out-phase, but a knot of nerves stay seated firmly in her stomach.

She doesn’t want to back out. She doesn’t want to do this, either.

It’s almost twenty minutes later when she hears Lena’s heartbeat arrive at her street minutes before six thirty (the earliest time she and Jess could get Lena out of her meetings). Kara smooths down the front of her shirt as she waits for Lena to climb the steps of her apartment, wringing her fingers as she fights the urge to fly down and pick Lena up herself. The nerves that had fluttered in her stomach earlier that morning have turned into a twisting grind of excitement and anticipation.

No matter the outcome of her confession today, Kara knows that she can trust Lena not to pull away from her completely.

They’ve gone through too much for either of them to just walk away from each other now.

With that little thought of assurance settled deep in her chest, Kara feels the tension in her shoulders drop the slightest bit as Lena’s knock finally reaches her front door.

As soon as Kara opens the door, she feels her lips stretch into a wide grin. On the other side of the door, Lena’s smiling back just as brightly, a (stolen) oversized sweater and loose jeans making her look small and cozy.

“Hi,” Kara breathes, reaching out instinctively to pull Lena into a hug. Lena burrows into her in reply, warm lips ghosting over her collarbone as Kara hears her whisper the words back.

“Missed you,” Lena adds and Kara feels her heart flutter at the admission, feels like the universe is expanding in her chest. She tries to stifle her grin as Lena slowly pulls away but ultimately fails.

Kara repeats the sentiment before ushering Lena inside as a newfound excitement starts to build in her chest. Lena’s here. And she missed her. How can she not want to shout out her love now?

With a little anticipation shaking her fingers, Kara helps Lena with her coat before leading her to the couch.

On the coffee table, as neatly presentable as she could get it, is the little international dinner she’d managed to scrounge up. With a dramatic wave of her hands, she exclaims, “Ta-da!”

She hears Lena gasp before she sees blue-green eyes flit around the table, red lips stretching wider with every plate of food it lands on. Lena’s fingers wrap around her wrist and slide down to tangle with Kara’s own, squeezing her hand as she turns to see a blinding grin. “Kara, this is just—amazing, but, and I’m grateful for this, really, but did I miss a special occasion? I know it isn’t my birthday or yours.”

Kara feels her stomach flutter at the way Lena’s head tilts, red lips twisted into a bewildered smile. Lena’s just so cute. All the time. Especially now.

She fumbles for glasses that aren’t on her face and settles on tucking some hair behind her ear instead. Kara shakes away the breathlessness in her throat and smiles, “No, no special occasion. It’s just—you’re always treating me. Thought it was time to return the favor.”

(And Kara would never admit it, but seeing Lena’s smile light up her entire face, teary eyes shining over her scrunched nose, is more than enough reason for her to do this all over again.)

Lena’s laugh is giddy as they move to the couch. Each grabbing a plate as Lena smiles. “If I didn’t know any better, Kara Zor-El. I’d think this was a bribe.”

“Can’t a girl treat her favorite…” the word person dies off her lips as her world slows down at the sight of Lena’s childish grin as she grabs a slice of pizza, sauce and oil dripping into her palm before Lena dips down and licks it. A long pink tongue darting out and twi—

“Your favorite, huh?”

Kara feels the heat in her stomach jump to her face, blue eyes ducking to hide behind blonde hair as she lets out a sharp, breathy laugh. Lena’s soft red lips are twisted in clear amusement and the teasing brow Lena quirks her way does nothing to ease the butterflies in her stomach.

Still, despite the heat bursting to the tips of her ears, Kara knows that it’s impossible to reply any differently. Honesty, they promised.

So she shrugs. Because it’s obvious. “Yeah.” Inevitable. “My favorite.”

Lena blushes despite the beaming smile that takes up her face, the pleasant surprise evident in her crinkled green eyes.

“Well,” Lena smiles, crooked and dopey and entirely too endearing. “You’re my favorite, too, Kara Zor-El.”

And they could go on forever, Kara knows—their affection for each other thick and tangible and never-ending, but Kara’s stomach chooses that exact moment to protest the millennia of waiting for food and breaks whatever tension filled the room.

They spend the rest of the night trading stories about their week, laughing in between fresh pasta and pizza. Kara feels herself melting into the moment, Lena’s knee pressing into her thigh, dim lights turning green eyes golden, warmth climbing from her chest to her cheeks. There’s a buzzing in her veins—a staticky mix of nerves and calm and excitement and fear. Fear of the unknown. Of rejection. Of heartbreak.

And yet.

Lena always made her braver. Stronger. More hopeful.

Kara could always hope. Hope for nothing to change. For an answer. For the best.

So it’s after they’ve eaten dessert (Lena enjoying her one and a half slice and Kara her four)—stomachs full and spirits sated, a documentary about space playing out in front of them—that Kara gathers the courage to finally, just—say it.

“I love you, y’know?” Kara tries for casual and falls short by a mile.

Lena tilts her head at her confession, smile soft but eyes swimming with something.

“I know,” Lena replies, soft. Honest. Close. “I love you, too.”

And, oh, how sweet a fact? A universal truth? An unbreakable oath?

“Well,” Kara exhales, the tightness in her chest mixed with fear and love and hope. “Do you know I’m in love with you?”

Lena pauses, the emotions flitting through her face too fast for Kara to name, and then. Lena settles on just one.

Lena looks at her with stars in her eyes and a trembling smile. She looks at her as if she’s given her a cup of Colombian coffee seconds after she’s woken up. She looks at her as if she’s just solved quantum gravity. She looks at her as if she’s given her the biggest hug after a long day.

Lena looks at her as if she knows.

It’s a look that makes Kara lean in, a moth to a flame. A sailor to the sea. Kara Zor-El to Lena Luthor.

She leans in just as Lena laughs—voice wet but smile impossibly bright—and Kara can taste the way she whispers, “I’d hoped.”

Kara pulls back just enough to see Lena’s eyes falling to her lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And then Lena closes the distance and kisses her. Deep and slow and everything.

“Was this whole—” Lena hums, snuggles closer into Kara’s side—the documentary they’d been watching rewound to the start because they’d missed more than half of it. “—around-the-world treat your big romantic gesture?”

And she snorts out a laugh because, well, she isn’t wrong.

“It was part of it.” Kara gives the covered pale hip she’s holding an affectionate, happy little squeeze. So, so happy. “How’d I do?”

“Eleven out of five stars.” Lena beams, stretching up to peck her on the lips before settling back into her side.

And as Janna Levin continues to explain what happens in blackholes on the dimmed screen in front of them, Kara pulls Lena impossibly closer and thinks that she’d never been more right.

This does all feel unstoppably permanent.

#cw supergirl #supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #my writing #queer bread writes #supercorp fics #supercorp fic #supercorp fanfic #amazed at two fics in one year #send me claps and snaps y'all

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pacthesis · 1 year

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nostalgic food

i’ll want to reference this in the future

gỏi cuốn (spring roll with chicken, egg, rice noodle, carrot, lettuce, avocado)

peanut sauce is just peanut butter+water, hoisin+sriracha sauce, and a tiny bit of sesame oil (tastes good with almost anything imo)

yellow curry

rice noodle with chicken, potatoes, yams, onions, carrots in a creamy coconut milk and yellow curry paste broth

lemon juice and salt mix with garlic chili for dipping

bò kho (vietnamese beef stew)

kho is a cooking technique where a protein is braised in a mixture of fish sauce, sugar, and water or coconut juice to make a salty/savory result

bread dips in stew beef/potatoes dip in lime juice/salt/pepper mix

cucumber slices to offset the salty

xá xíu (cantonese style bbq pork)

the seasoning mix is made of sugar, powdered soy sauce, onion and garlic powder, and spices

the pink color very much freaked out middle schoolers at lunch

cơm tấm (broken rice, grilled pork, egg, pickled carrots/daikon with scallions/oil garnish and fish sauce)

bún bò huế (thick round rice noodle with beef soup)

more "fun" than phở imo

bún bò broth: spicy salty flavor (lemongrass, spicy chili, fermented shrimp paste, fish sauce)

phở broth: earthy sweet flavor (cinnamon, star anise, onion, ginger, garlic, herbs)

bánh mì (baguette sandwich with chả lụa (pork sausage), xá xíu (cantonese style bbq pork) coriander leaf (cilantro), cucumber, pickled carrots, and pickled daikon combined with pâté and buttery mayonnaise)

salmon instead of nem nướng̣ (viet grilled pork) with bánh hỏi (rice vermicelli)

feat nori (dried edible seaweed)

wrapped with lettuce and dipped in nước mắm (fish sauce)

bánh cuốn (rice noodle rolls filled with ground meat, wood ear mushrooms, onions)

topped with chả lụa (pork sausage) and fried red onions and nước mắm (fermented salted fish sauce)

a fav of grandpa's

pizza man mispronounces it as "bun goo" which makes my mom giggle cause the way he says goo sounds like penis

bánh tét (glutinous rice rolled in a banana leaf into a thick, log-like cylindrical shape, with a mung bean and pork filling)

bánh rán (deep fried sesame ball filled with mung bean)

bánh da lợn "pig skin cake" (tapioca starch, rice flour, mung bean, taro, coconut milk)

bánh bột chiên (fried taro rice cake, a fav of pizza man)

phở (broth: earthy sweet flavor- cinnamon, star anise, onion, ginger, garlic, herbs)

ive called phở mid but while eating this i was like huh this is good actually then my dad says this time he simmered chicken bones for hours like he's supposed to instead of using canned broth

improvised bún thịt nướng (rice noodle bowl with chopped grilled pork, egg roll, veggies, crushed peanuts, fish sauce)

a way to deal with leftover noodles from gỏi cuốn

every time i eat this i think of the time me and pizza man were in new orleans and he asked if i wanted to eat at a viet place and i was surprised cause he's not really into a lot of viet food but anyway i got bún thịt nướng

thịt kho (pork with eggs braised in sticky savory caramel of sugar, fish sauce, coconut water)

i have distinct flashbacks of being in the middle school cafeteria with my thịt kho and kids around me going "what is that??", "ewwww" lol

cháo (rice porridge with chicken or a white meat fish- often served with crunchy cabbage salad)

my dad likes it with youtiao (chinese donuts)

being sick means eating this! but we also eat it a lot when we’re not sick!

when my mom was young she would say yes to any dude that asked her out and order an obscene amount of food/the most expensive things on the menu and never hear from them again but my dad took her to a cháo place cause that was his favorite but apparently for cheapskates

he proposed two weeks later and she said yes

my mom is such a menace i wanna be just like her

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aretarers · 1 month

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alright now listen to me closely, i am talking directly in your ear now. saute minced onion in a pan with 3 diced thai chilis. then add mixed vegetable (carrot pea green beans) (whatever) and sesame oil and 2 eggs and then quickly stir the eggs so that they cook into clumps. and then add soy sauce and spinach and cumin and chinese five spice and a bunch of rice and then stir fry for a couple minutes. and then plate and add sesame seeds and a little bit more soy sauce. ok?

#talking

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mumao-world · 2 years

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Etsy.de

#lao gan ma earrings #earrings #chili earrings #spicy #chili oil #hot chili oil #hot #chinese food #asian food #dumplings #gyoza

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wangxianficrecs · 1 year

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Dead Languages by chinuplipup

Dead Languages

by chinuplilpup

G, 16k, WIP, lwj & wwx, wen remnants

Summary: “Second young master Lan! Young master Wei was turned into a child, the one that you saw just now. It’s a spell or a curse, we don’t know! And—” Wen Ning stops talking, because his sister has him by the ear. - Deep in the Burial Mounds, the small, struggling Qishan Wen sect has a problem. A very small problem.

Mojo's comments: Wwx is about 5 when lwj returns to the Burial Mounds, and running about with a-yuan. But he's still got shadows, insecurities from the only time he remembers (being homeless and alone). And lwj feels inadequate and under-prepared, and his interactions with young wei ying are so endearingly awkward. I hope author comes back to finish the final chapter someday. (3/4 so far). Lwj seems headed for a revelation that he needs to start actively helping wwx and the Remnants.

Kay's comments: Absolutely heart-wrenching story about de-aged Wei Wuxian during the Burial Mounds Settlement days. It's a canon-divergence stories where the Wens have already been living there for a couple of years and Lan Wangji has been visiting once or twice a year. As he encounters de-aged Wei Wuxian, he finally understands that maybe visiting once or twice a year with some gifts wasn't as much help as he had thought and that there were many things he never learned about Wei Wuxian. My heart always aches for child Wei Wuxian and the thinking about the years he had spent on the streets, so this story was very ache-inducing in the best possible way! And Wen Yuan and Wei Ying bonding as children is also just so perfect.

Excerpt: Wei Ying says in a small voice, “Okay.” Lan Wangji frowns. He never thought he would hear Wei Ying respond to a rule or a limit placed on him with quiet surrender. Not even at age fifteen with the Lan discipline whip as his encouragement! It’s expected for small children to be somewhat shy, and Wei Ying certainly didn’t have an ordinary, safe childhood, but to think Wei Ying was once this timid child, constantly restraining himself from what he wants...

Excerpt²: Lan Wangji stays bent at the waist. His hair falls over his shoulder, obscuring part of his face. He says, “Thank you for taking care of Wei Wuxian.” He means to add “when I couldn’t,” but a wave of guilt about his own inadequacies overruns him and chokes the words in his throat. Has he ever been able to take care of Wei Ying? Has he protected him, helped him, has he offered anything other than warnings and criticism—not just in the past two years, but in all of their acquaintance? He thinks of the song that he finished as a teenager, that he practically tore his fingertips perfecting and that he played for Wei Wuxian once. Is that all? It can’t be only that, but Lan Wangji can’t recall anything else. Several visits per year to the Burial Mounds with an armful of loquats or a few bottles of chili oil and spirit-calming songs—none of that seems like anything anymore.

canon-divergence, yiling wei sect, age regression/de-aging, de-aged wei wuxian, fluff, hurt/comfort, ghosts, autistic lan wangji, burial mounds settlement days, pov lan wangji, anxious wei wuxian, awkard lan wangji, malnutrition, @thebestestbat

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

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fleet-off · 1 year

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A snippet from Off the Handle

(CW: minor accidental self-harm, allusions to suicide.)

His madness begins in the aftermath, when anger loosens its stranglehold and wraps him in its familiar seething caress. Vegas swipes his damp finger along the tips of the knives on the drying rack, traces their honed edges and well-oiled wooden handles.

Who the fuck puts wood in the dishwasher? Even Vegas knows better than that, and he’s more accustomed to the banalities of cleaning crusted blood from a set of pliers than he is to cleaning chili oil from a vegetable knife.

At least the focus required to handwash them has dampened the petty urge to stab them into the kitchen walls.

The bedroom door is shut, but Pete hasn’t left the apartment. As long as Pete is still here, this is fixable. Surely he’ll come out for dinner.

…If Pete skips dinner, Vegas will fucking--

Vegas flings his dish towel to the floor. It lands with an impotent flop.

He’ll fucking what? There’s no forcing Pete to eat when he doesn’t want to.

Pete’s fury shouldn’t be silent. Pete’s fury as Vegas knows it is world-ending, concussive. It batters Vegas’s brain against the inside of his skull and threatens self-immolation.

Vegas runs his thumb down the edge of his butcher’s knife.

There should be blood on the floor, he thinks. He’d feel better for it--Vegas has tidied up the consequences of arguments countless times, knows how to put his pieces back in presentable order almost by rote.

This listless limbo can’t last. Something is coming. Something has to break, to punctuate all that anger. Shattered dishes, ringing ears, bruised skin.

Life was miserably simpler, when Ba was around.

Pete’s anger these days is more like Vegas’s mother’s. Ba used to call her hysterical--but that was Ba’s way, wasn’t it? Pete--(Vegas’s grip on the knife tightens)--Pete has realer, more accurate words.

Ma took what she was given until the very moment she couldn’t. Life broke her, and so death--

A thin twist of pain teases up Vegas’s fingertip. He reacts several seconds late, with a flinch he doesn’t feel but supposes he should--because the blood is welling up from a cut in his finger and the lack of a flinch reflex isn’t adaptive anymore, it just makes Vegas a clumsy fuck-up with cooking burns on his palms.

Vegas frowns at the gash. It barely bleeds until he squeezes it open. Who needs a knife this sharp in their kitchen?

Vegas--more fool him--had thought he did, cheerfully whetting his new knives. “Sharp enough to fillet a man,” he’d told Macau, because Macau would treat it like the joke it was and feel included without having to live the truth of it.

At his corner of the counter, Pete had remained silent, his eyes glittery and dark like a spider’s. That look is habit now, emerges in Pete every time Vegas turns his sharp purpose towards feeding him. The new familiarity spins nostalgia-like in Vegas’s chest.

It isn’t his old life. It’s better.

Vegas’s stomach twists to recall that spark of ownership and joy over his space in their kitchen at the center of the world. What a short-sighted ass he’s been.

Pete wears anger like Ma did. If there is to be blood on the floor, what better means than the knives at the core of the argument?

Impotent. Worse--maker of his loved ones’ annihilation.

…He might get away with one, but Pete would notice if he wrecked all the blades.

Vegas swallows and scoops them up, a steel bouquet in his destructive hands. Self-sabotage waiting to happen. He opens the knife drawer.

It’s better-balanced without the knives in it. Neater, closer to the toothless thing Vegas never was.

His blood has smudged on one of his nice new knife handles. It feels like an omen.

Vegas closes the drawer. He’ll find a temporary home for the knives. They can order takeout, just for the next few days. As long as Pete and Macau are willing to eat, Vegas won’t let his family go hungry.

#kinnporsche #vegaspete #fanfiction #vegas severely overreacts to a dishwasher spat: the fanfic #i’m a slow writer #(thanks in no small part to my hands--they get mad if I type more than three sentences on my phone or a few hundred words on my laptop)#but I’m recovering from a writing slump last week and felt like sharing something!#fleet post #fleet fic

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ayahimes · 10 months

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get to know the mun , repost don’t reblog !

what’s your phone wallpaper: my pups playing in the snow

last song you listened to: kollage by carly rae jepsen ( no forreal .. if u fuck with kali uchis listen to this song RIGHT now )

currently reading: love, theoretically by ali hazelwood , way of kings by brandon sanderson , & american prometheus : the triumph and tragedy of robert j. oppenheimer by kai bird & and martin sherwin

last movie: your name

last show: the simpsons . it was playing while i was eating something

craving: sesame balls from chinatown in nyc

what are you wearing right now: this oversized inuyasha shirt i slept in and some shorts

how tall are you?: 5'4"

piercings / tattoos ?: ears pierced and for tattoo an excerpt from the aeneid in latin over my left collarbone

glasses? contacts?: both , glasses atm

last thing you ate?: two eggs cooked in chili oil with rice and kimchi

favorite color(s): red but lately green lol

current obsession: ffxiv , trying out all the flavors of monster energy drinks

unrelated obsession: uh ... cid telamon and blade . give me a tall , hot , darked hair man with a deep voice and i'm a goner

any pets: two shiba inus , a cat , and recently a feral kitten whose trust i'm still earning

do you have a crush right now?: always . forever fictional :)

favorite fictional character: oh ... well ... a ton . i absolutely love addie larue , azriel , paul atreides , gojo satoru , manon blackbeak , casteel da'neer , shallan in way of kings (so far lol) , jude duarte , alys rivers , tifa lockhart , cidolfus telamon , and just a ton more i can't think of at the top of my head

last place you traveled: atlanta

tagged by: i stole it :) tagging: steal it from me !

#˚ ༘ ❅ ⋆｡˚ ꕥ ━━ ❆ ( 綾華 / dash games )#i assure you i am not that interesting but ... here u go lol

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whentherewerebicycles · 10 months

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hmm this doesn’t look that great but it sure tastes fucking delicious!! cook fergola or whole wheat pearl couscous according to package directions. while it’s cooking, dice a large shallot or two and two zucchini, salt, and sauté for 8-9 min. add 6-8 cloves of minced garlic + red chili pepper flakes and cook for another couple min. add 2 ears’ worth of sweet corn, salt/pepper, and cook 5-6 more min. add the fergola or couscous, a generous slug of olive oil, a little water or ricotta to loosen it, and more salt to taste. lastly turn off the heat and add the zest + juice of one lemon, a bunch of fresh grated pecorino or Parmesan, and a small handful of basil leaves roughy chopped. from feasting at home, a website that I’ve made 20+ recipes from and have yet to encounter a dud. will definitely make again yum YUM.

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poll-ventures · 1 year

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Perdition 1.8

< ≡ >

“Good luck,” Isaiah said, waving as he disappeared behind the closing door. The slam of solid basswood rolled out into the misty woods.

I turned to face the path of the spire.

Thick layers of wet moss clung to ancient trees, and the mist rolled in the space between them, licking at their craggy bark. I pulled my cloak tighter against me, feeling the cold touch of the mist seep through my thin undershirt.

Bella ate from the patch of grass that sprouted just before the stone wall behind us, nosing the door. I pulled on her reins, and led us deeper into the walled forest.

****

The first time I saw the golden hare, I knew I had to kill her.

At first, the thin path through the forest had been straight, but it had quickly dissolved into many tributaries that flowed outward into the trees.

It wasn’t hard to navigate, the stalactite serving as constant reminder of our destination. The canopy of misted leaves would occasionally obscure the spire, but within a heart beats, it would reveal itself.

“Why the hell am I down here?” I asked loudly.

Bella chuffed in response, disinterestedly grinding down grass from the side of the path as we walked.

“And why did I go in alone?” She sniffed at my hand holding her reins, snorting when she realized I lacked a treat.

Not that I trust those two. I glanced at the darkness seeping in on the edge of each clearing, edging on my periphery like the mist between each tree. The forest was made up of many perfectly spaced out trees, none of them touching.

This path curved to avoid larger trees at times, but they all grew five or more feet apart from their neighbors. Their branches formed a thick canopy, but there was never a tree that had fallen or sprouted near another.

So they’d been planted? I’d stepped closer to the edge of the path, following a well trodden offshoot a little ways into the mist, past a small, rolling bit of grassy nook, where the edge of two small hillocks met.

Then I saw the hare. She was sleeping, nuzzled into the nook and slumped close to the ground. Quickly, she opened her great gray eyes and stood on her hind legs, glancing around in alarm. I sat perfectly still, and she blinked at me before her large ears perked up.

Staring at her, tensed in crouching and golden fleece quivering in the mist, I knew that I’d have to kill her. This was the test, this is what Isaiah and Stash had been keeping silent about. I didn’t want to kill her... But I was sure that they hadn’t wanted to either.

I slowly reached out for her, touching the barest bit of her fleece. She bolted.

****

The band kicks off a soft and pleasant waltz, and the ballroom flutters with the suits and spinning dresses of New York’s upper crust.

I spin my soup spoon in tandem with the music, flinging thin shards of tomato bisque and hot chili oil to the sides of the silver bowl with my silver spoon. How about a cake for once?

I sigh, staring out across the dancing oldies. Father rented out this ballroom for Nadia’s sixteenth as well, and now that it was mine, it had started to show some wear and tear.

Sure, it was all the rage back then, but now? It’s gauche.

Father tuts at me for playing with my food, then stands and takes my hand. I stand with him, smiling brightly up at him.

He’s bought this beautiful powdered pink dress for me, just for tonight, and he seems so damn proud of me for still filling it out perfectly after just three lunch dates with the seamstress.

He walks me past the tables, past the dining aunts and uncles, then onto the dance floor, holding my hand patiently until the band strikes up a new song.

He is silent as he takes me in his arms, spinning me carefully as we dance. I continue to fake a smile. I can tell he’s in the moment, smiling down at me as we walk through what we’d practiced for many hours before. I can hear the ooh’s and ah’s as the crowd parts for us, saying the polite things loud enough for us to hear them.

I spend many hours in his arms, spinning away my sixteenth birthday.

After the night has grown long, Mother has deemed it her turn, and taken me in her arms. My eyes are closed as she runs her hands through my perfectly curled hair.

Father says, “Nadine…” but she shushes him, and my sisters stand nearby, Nicolette tittering quietly at a joke from Nadia as they watch the help clean up.

Mother takes her husband’s hand, still stroking my hair, and kisses it.

He frowns, though I can’t see it, and leaves to help put away the chairs and tables.

“It’s exhausting being so beautiful for everyone, isn’t it, baby dear?” My Mother coos as my head rests on her lap.

I turn my face to look up at her, pale cheek red with the pattern of her dress pressed into it. I stare up at her, and her eyes are closed. I open my mouth to speak.

This is the first time I actually try to tell her. Tell her that I don’t feel beautiful. I feel wrong.

She hums happily, long nails scratching thin shivers of delight down my scalp.

“Sleep now, dear. Return.”

I close my mouth.

****

And the hare was gone. She slipped into the trees, trailing a cloud of gold that bloomed in the mist's light. Bella chafed on the reins, pulling them tight against my hand. She tried to face the road, and whinnied as I stood to brush her mane, the ghost of my mother’s fingers still in my hair.

“It’s okay, girl,” I said. I stepped up to her saddlebag as I watched the gold trail fade, slowly drifting away on the wind and beading on the nearby blades of grass.

I undid the clasps, then pulled a loosely wound bowstring from the bag. Finally, I pulled at the knots that kept a thick leather sheath tightly to Bella’s side, laying it out on the floor of the forest.

Inside was a long, gleaming wooden bow. The mist curled around it, seeming interested in this object of destruction.

Had this been tied to Bella’s saddle all along? Had that bowstring been in her bag? Or was it just now, when I needed it, that it appeared?

I stared down at the disassembled bow, frowning at the mist curling at the elegant edges of the long wooden bow. For that matter, why did I think--Why did I know that I needed to kill this hare? What would killing a golden bunny do for me?

What if it was a trick?

I looked back to the main road we'd been heading down, and Bella started to walk towards it. Did the hare want me to get lost in the woods? Certainly it had shown me my sixteenth birthday, right?

“Too many fucking questions,” I grunted as I stood the bow up, stepping through the center of it to string it. The tension was good, and the string was in prime condition. Bella had already made it to the path when I returned. I replaced the bow’s sheath, then clasped her saddlebag closed.

I stepped into Bella’s stirrup and mounted her ungracefully, placing the strung bow under my hand on her pommel. Glancing down at the bow in my hands, I realized that I had never held one before, let alone strung one.

I glared up at the spire ahead, groaned, and squeezed my calves into Bella’s sides. She eased forward into the mist.

“Too many goddamned questions.”

****

The second time I saw the golden hare, she was watching me from a tree branch.

It had been what felt like an hour. Bella strode forward at a steady pace, only stopping when I saw the golden trail cross the road we were headed down. I pulled the reins tightly.

The airy path of gold dust was fading, blowing slightly in the curls of mist across the path. I followed it with my eyes, and trailed it up the side of a nearby tree.

Then, on a thin branch, the hare stared down at me, rich fleece almost glowing with a golden iridescence. Her movement was traced like a fading shadow behind her, the thin glitter drifting up into the air like smoke as the branch swung with her movement.

As I slowed, she stared down at me, unblinking. In those gray eyes, I felt a mild judgment. She was watching me, and weighing me. Bella whinnied as I eased up on the reins, then contentedly dropped her head to crop the grass.

I noticed I was gripping the bow tightly. Easing up on the wood, I stared back at her, then spoke to her. “Who are you?”

The hare’s large ears perked up at my voice, and she turned her head to better look at me. We stood like that, watching each other for ten seconds. Then, she began to lick herself, wetting her leg and then brushing it past her ear. It looked almost feline.

Her movement made the branch swing subtly, thin spouts of gold dust shaking off of her and floating down, curling in a dance with the mist until it drifted away. She continued to stare at me, seeming comfortable on the end of a thin branch.

Slowly, I began to reach for an arrow from the quiver tied down to Bella’s saddle. The hare watched this, uncaring. I held the thin yet sturdy wood just below the feathers, between two fingers.

Then, many things happened at once. Bella sneezed, the gold swirling around the grass she was eating. Startled, the hare leapt from the tree, spreading herself out as she glided through the air. I pulled leather, nocking the arrow and firing it at the hare as quickly I could.

****

“Oh, shit.” It’s one of the only times I hear my mother swear. The popped tire flaps on the road, and she pulls us off to the side of the road, the car thumping to an uneven stop as the traffic slows around us. It’s a beautiful day, and the sun beats down on the black car.

Mom sighs, head hitting the headrest as she grips the steering wheel.

“Want me to call Father?”

She shakes her head, then rolls down the windows, and kills the engine. Unbuckling her seatbelt, she turns back to me. “Your momma knows how to fix a flat, Natalie.” The name feels wrong. She smirks, then slips out of the car.

After a bit of digging in the trunk, she finds the spare tire and the jack, then gets to replacing the flat. I stare out of the window at her, on her knees in her business suit, cranking the jack up slowly. The other window provides a prettier view.

I watch a hilly park, blades of glass rippling in the summer wind, clouds of dust pluming up as players make the rounds of the baseball diamonds. The smell of Gatorade, sweat and cold water is brought to me by the sweet summer wind.

Mom is on the phone with Father. “Yes, honey, I know we pay for Triple A, but-.” A sigh, as she pins the phone between her head and her shoulder, pulling the spent tire off of the car.

“I-. I know. I’ve got it. I’ll just be late to pick up Nicolette from ballet. I-. I just need you to pick her up honey. Thank you. Bye.” She hangs up, sighs deeper, then grabs the spare from the side of the road, hefting it onto the spokes.

I turn back to the park. Kids jump off slides and land in mulch, running in a game of tag. They’re shouting, and dirty.

When Mom’s done, she throws all the gear back into the trunk. She sees me watching the park, a gentle wind tugging at her tied up brown hair. I wonder what she sees in it.

“C’mon,” she says, and my door is open and my hand is in hers. She’s got this gingham blanket from the back, ‘always keep a blanket in the back, because you’ll never know,' and her hands are covered in black car-grease, staining the perfect red and white.

She tells me to bring my lunch box, but “I was going to eat it at practice.”

“Practice is right here, Nat!” she says, and then tells me to get my ball.

I cautiously follow her up the grassy hill, volleyball in the gap between my arm and my ribs. She lays out the blanket, and throws my lunchbox on it, racing off to the sandy volleyball court. I follow slowly, wondering what this woman has done with my Mother.

She’s rusty, but after a while she gets a hang of it. “I used to play, in high school,” she tells me between chugs of breath. I didn’t know this.

“Brearly?” I ask, bumping it back over the net to her. She jumps and lands with it at her feet. Laughing, she replies:

“No, honey, no. I went to public school. You didn’t know that?”

“There’s lots I don’t know about you.”

She frowns and sends the ball back over the net with a bit of her old skill shining through.

We play in silence. It’s not as good as real practice, but the silence is nice.

Later, on the blanket, I watch the cars whizz by the park, passing us in what looks like some desperate race. Our car sits there on the side of the road, dead to the world.

The wind has picked up, whispering past us. The kids behind us have left. The park is almost silent, besides the rush of cars.

Mom asks, “Are you okay?”

The question catches me off-guard. I turn to her, she’s watching me, and I suddenly feel like crying for some reason.

She sees whatever’s in my eyes, and nods, beckoning me. I scoot over, and she puts her arm around me. I do not cry.

“I know, baby. Seventeen’s hard.” She picks at the tie keeping my hair in a ponytail, and watches it cascade down around my head. “Wanna know a secret?”

I continue to watch the road, head against her shoulder. My hair’s in my eyes, and that’s just fine.

“I don’t remember seventeen. I remember being a teen. But whatever’s on your mind, by twenty, it won’t matter. You’ll have bested it.”

That seems impossible, frankly. Right now, it feels like living to twenty is just not going to happen.

How do you tell your mother that you feel like dying? That everything is wrong and even though your mind is telling you your body is wrong, your mind doesn’t feel right either? How do you tell yourself?

For a moment, I wish there was some sort of plug, some sort of male to male wire I could connect our brainstems with, install what I was feeling into her brain, instead of having to translate it for her. Better yet, delete the files all together, port them off to a hard drive and never see the thing again.

Is that what living to twenty is like? Free to look back on the filled hard drives of old and useless pain?

“You’ll be okay, hon. You can talk to me about what you’re feeling.”

Bullshit. Does she really fucking think that? Really?

I turn to her. Really face her, for the first time that day. For the first time in months, maybe, I see her face. Pocked with old acne, peeking out from under concealer that’s running in the heat.

Concerned eyebrows, begging me to let her help. She’s trying her best at this Mother thing, and god damn if it doesn’t make me want to hate her. Doesn’t she get that it’s pointless?

Fine. I’ll try.

“No, I can’t.”

“Try me,” she says. She pulls apart from me, then scoots back to look at me better. “Is it boy stuff?”

Of fucking course she thinks that. I stare at her, I feel like I can’t move my lips or eyes or tongue at all or tears will come. I don’t feel sad, and I shouldn’t even feel like crying.

“Hun?”

“I’m okay.” I turn away, it’s easier that way, look away, to the sun in the sky and bite your lip and just shut the fuck up.

She’s silent. I pray that she stays that way.

“It’s okay if you can’t talk about it, Nat. Just know that I’m here for you when you can.”

That name, that fucking name. Chosen to mirror hers, and my sisters, and my sister after me. Why this name?

“My name is Solidago,” says Mother.

“What?” I turn to her, tears stinging in the corners of my eyes. This is not how this goes. She doesn’t see my tears, she just…

“My name, traveler. You asked for it?” Gray eyes stare back at me, my Mother’s dull blues gone. “It is only fair that you give me yours in return. Or,” she smirks, “one of them.”

“Stop doing that,” I say, mind full of a distant place under a distant mountain, that I won’t see for years. My voice is quiet, almost a growl. “Get out of her.”

Her smirk widens, four hare’s teeth poking out at an angle from her mouth. “Just give me a name, child.”

I lunge at her.

****

The scream is what pulled me out of the memory. Wordless, from the back of my throat, I lunged for the golden beast.

My arrow went wide, the hare still falling through the air, front paws stretched out to meet the ground.

I rocketed out of the saddle, flailing through the air after her. The lattice of root slammed against my boots, and I threw the reins backward as Bella whinnied angrily.

“Get the fuck out of her!” I shouted at the tiny golden beast as she landed. I tore my way through the sparse trees after her.

I quickly lost sight of the hare, but her golden trail betrayed her path, and I was gaining on her. I could smell her god damnit, I had her scent.

As I traced her path around a bend of a hillock of trees, I pounced on instinct.

I felt her fleece in my hands, and saw her maw open in horrified shock as I landed on top of her, pinning her against an outcropping of grassy roots.

Its four dull teeth snapped at my fingers, once, twice, and I fought for hold of her as she squirmed.

Finally, seeing that she was trapped, she slowed, gray eyes staring up at me in shock. Then suddenly, she jerked, and a thin line of fire erupted on my wrist. The damn thing grinned, having sliced a wire of pain into me with her back claw.

Watching my blood stain her golden fleece, I pinned her haunches with my other arm, staring down at her with a grimace.

“This isn’t over, is it, you gold fuck. Three makes a story, and that story ain’t over yet.”

Those four teeth shrunk back into her mouth, further mimicking a human smile. I racked her against the forest floor, and I felt her seize in pain.

“Show me it.” She stared back at me, screwing up her face and somehow managing to spit in my face. Her smile widened as my blood pooled on her haunches. I stared into her eyes, pouring my will into her, and spoke.

“(Show me, Solidago.)”

****

Over the music of the slideshow outside the little family room, I can hear the people in line to see my mother and sister’s caskets asking questions to the others near them.

“God, look at that picture. What a tragedy… How old was she?”

She was forty-three.

“Oh, look at her. Poor baby… Which one is she in?”

My sister is in the casket on the right. Both are closed. My father briefly discussed labeling them with the man running the service.

“That family photo… Is the little girl alright? I heard she was driving?”

Yes. I still have glass in my knuckles that the doctors couldn’t get out. I am alive. I should not be.

This room is colorless, and lined with colorless paintings. In the far right corner is a counter with a sink, piled high with snacks and sandwiches and two liters. Underneath the veggie trays and store bought plastic containers of cookies is a thin, white tablecloth.

Father is in the main room, shaking hands to the people lining up to give him their condolences. He wanted me to be with him, but when I showed up in a suit and with my hair cut to my neck, he told me to wait in here.

Nicolette is at his side, I’m sure. She still hasn’t talked to me since. Father pretends to tolerate me, but I know he will never forgive me for the accident.

I can’t stop thinking about it. I can remember every second of it, even the parts where I must have been unconscious. I can feel myself tremble as I walk through the memory, seeing the stoplight pouring into the water, filling it with red light while my hands aren’t working for some reason, I can’t open the car door.

I take a deep breath, seeing the door to the family room open. It’s my Aunt. Mom’s sister. She doesn’t even see me, making for the concessions in her black dress. Don’t turn around. She grabs a red cup, filling it with seven up, takes a cookie. Don’t turn around.

She turns around, eyes rolling past me before shooting back in recognition. “What are you wearing?”

I don’t say anything. I’m still trembling, stupidly. I don’t think I’ve spoken for hours.

“Natalie.” She walks up to me, carefully placing her cookie and drink on a doily of a nearby colorless wooden table. “Do you know they wouldn’t let me see her? My own sister, my own niece?” This close, I can smell the cigarettes on her breath and her clothes.

I have to say something, she’s looking at me like it’s my fault. It is. “I’m sorry.” My voice is cracking, falling apart like a old, ready-to-die shell.

“I’ll say you should be,” she says, somehow haughty. “I didn’t even get to see the face of my own sister before she’s set to be buried! And now you’re dressed up like some, some deviant.”

“I-”

“Stop trying to make this about you, girl. Have some respect for the women you killed.” She storms off, quickly picking up her cookie and cup.

I sit in shocked silence, then slump slowly back into the chair. What did she say that was wrong? Why should I feel sorry for myself? She’s right.

Hours pass. Nobody else comes into my little room. Sometimes I get up to numbly make a cracker sandwich, eating it slowly. I wonder what they’ll have to eat at my funeral, or if they’ll even hold one. Would you hold a funeral for the girl who killed your wife and daughter?

Much later, I’m sitting with a bible on my lap, leather covers spread across my black slacks. Two women walk in, one my age, and the other older, rolling a small cart behind her. They start to take apart the concession stand. Most of the food is uneaten, and ends up in the trash.

The older woman folds the tablecloth, placing it on top of the food while the younger woman cleans. “Your great-grandfather made us lay this out before we would eat dinner. Every night, until he died.” She speaks quietly, but cheerfully.

The young girl asks, softly but genuinely curious, “Why?”

The woman laughs. “Because my brothers were pigs!”

I know neither of these women. Somehow, they know my mother, or maybe my sister.

"I miss my uncles," the younger one says. The old woman nods, then says:

"I don't miss cleaning up after them." They both laugh quietly.

I put the bible aside, and walk out of the little room. The girl hushes her tiny laugh as I stand, returning to polite silence. I wish she hadn’t.

In the main room of the funeral, there remains a few relatives I haven’t seen for years. Cousins, aunts and uncles speak in hushed tones, collected in the corners of the room. I wonder if they'll even recognize me as I approach the back, where the caskets sit.

My mother’s, larger and heavier, is being prepared for burial first. I am one of the pallbearers. I stand with one gloved hand on the thick wood, and try to remember her face. There was almost nothing left, save for the smell of burnt rubber and steaming blood.

It comes slowly at first. I remember her looking at me on the side of a hill, and I remember her hands in my hair. Beneath the wood, I know there’s nothing left that looks like her, however much they doctored her up.

The other pallbearers have arrived, one, my father, pats me on the back. As we walk her out of the church, I feel the ball of dread set alight in my stomach, suddenly knowing what’s coming next.

From within the casket, a muffled noise rasps out. Although she cannot form words, I know what they mean.

“Child,” she says, in my Mother’s voice.

“Yes, demon?” Now, the other pallbearers are gone, and I shift to carry the casket on my back, crouching forward in agony.

“You learn quick,” the thing inside the casket moans. I can feel it shift, knocking against the wooden walls as it blindly pilots my mother’s corpse.

“Fuck you,” I groan back, knees pressed into the ground now, as I inch slowly forward.

“Give me your name.” She croaks, violently thrashing against the sides of her wooden cage.

I drop the casket, throwing it off of my back and onto the wet cement outside the church. It clatters open, and spills out my mother, sewed into a beautiful white dress. The stink of formaldehyde drifts up from her overly powdered lack of face, and she lays still, eyelessly staring up at me.

“Name, name, name!” She growls, working my Mother’s malformed mouth open, thin white sutures popping inside her jaw.

I stare in disgust, pads of my knees rubbed free of skin. She tries to stand, just one leg, but neither can support her. She collapses onto me, broken fingers wrapped around my neck.

****

Those same gray eyes stared up at me from the ground, but my fingers were coiled around a human neck, golden skin stained red with my blood. She looked nothing like my mother, just an older, scared woman, with golden hair and skin.

She squirmed in my grasp, but my legs pinned hers, and my elbows constricted her hands. Above us, the spire watched, uncaring, closer now than it ever was. We had to be right in front of the entrance to the innermost circle of the castle.

A few feet from the golden demon’s head, a door was set into the side of a large wooden wall that hid the point of the stalactite from view.

The demon bit at my hand, the same four teeth piercing my skin like razor wire. Having gained my attention, she desperately mouthed a airless word at me. 'Name'.

I felt my hands tighten around her neck without me even thinking about it. It came down to this, this has to be the test. We locked eyes, and I loosened my grip. She started to breathe again, ragged and painful, the fight going out of her as she gulped down air.

“I need a name, child. I gave you mine.”

Does she deserve a name? Does she deserve to die? She used my dead mother as a plaything. I looked inside myself, and asked the voice inside.

You smile.

What do you do?

< ≡ >

#Perdition 1.8 #Perdition #tw suicide #tw deadnaming #tw depression #tw self harm #tw mother issues #tw animal death #tw motor accident #tw car accident #tw blood #tw gore #tw strangling #tw funeral #interactive writing #interactive fiction #interactive novel #interactive game

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