#anyway butter is delicious and good on bread and the people saying its not are just obnoxiously disagreeing for attention on the internet

[nytfythfhtyf]

butter is good on bagels because its fucking bread and butter is good on bread and unless you slop that cream cheese on there like its fuckin christmas morning that bagel is going to be dry as fuck and impossible to chew

#like unless you spend 12 dollars on nice panera bagels that shit is going to be like eating straight foam #i gotta be honest buying grocery store bagels isnt even fucking worth it bc theyre so nasty #theyre ALWAYS FUCKING UNDERCOOKED #or underbaked whatever idk #anyway butter is delicious and good on bread and the people saying its not are just obnoxiously disagreeing for attention on the internet #i say things

[fandomlit]

neutral, chap. 2 (dream smp x reader)

series summary (in game!au) when an exiled tommy finally rebels against a manipulative dream, he finds safety in neutral territory, a place owned and guarded by you. staying in your safe haven opens up the younger one’s eyes to your way of life, while also revealing your deeper past before neutral; a past that involved a war for your love.

chapter summary tommy learns a little bit more about your relationship with dream before spending his day with ghostbur, exploring neutral territory and learning of the war that sparked its creation.

warning mentions of war, violence, and injuries

previous | series masterlist | next

gif cred belongs to @chillcrafting

“you have a package, y/n!” ghostbur called out just as you placed tommy’s breakfast in front of him. the ghoul’s words went completely ignored by tommy, whose gaze was solely focused on the beautiful stack of pancakes placed in front of him.

y/n smiled to herself. “you can bring it in, bur. i know who it’s from.” she shuffled syrup and butter over to tommy just as ghostbur came in with the fateful package.

tommy was already half way through scarfing down the stack of pancakes when y/n managed to open the package, ghostbur gazing over her shoulder. she took out a note set atop of the contents.

she read aloud, “y/n, i’m sorry i haven’t properly stopped by in a while. my work requires much of my undivided attention right now, which i’m sure you understand. please work your magic for me with the clothes included, and i will be sure to drop by for them and a meal soon. there are a few extra gifts included for you. i hope tommy isn’t burdening you. signed dream.”

“i’m not a burden!” tommy spoke offendedly through a mouthful of pancakes.

“you’re right, tommy,” y/n hummed, handing him a napkin to wipe some syrup off of his chin. “you’re perfect company.” tommy smiled to himself as he finished off his stack of pancakes. y/n sighed to herself, “clay really knows how to ruin a good piece of clothing..”

“so you and dream are close, y/n?” tommy grumbled, picking up his glass of milk.

she shrugged. “as close as you can be with someone you barely see.” she placed his battered clothes to the side, sighing again when she saw the rest of the contents of the box. tommy didn’t realize this, continuing with his questions.

“i remember that he respected your territory when he stepped into it,” he recalled. “he was going to kill me, but then he realized he was in neutral.”

y/n nodded. “when i made claimed this territory as neutral, i made a deal with everyone: i would mend and tailor anything you needed as long as you respected my territory as neutral.” she held up a box of diamonds and a smaller box of netherite to tommy’s view, making his mouth drop open with surprise. y/n held out another napkin to him for the milk that had sputtered out of his open mouth while ghostbur laughed into his hand. “clay is the only one who still tries to pay me.”

“with netherite?!” tommy exclaimed, letting out a surprised laugh.

y/n shrugged, seemingly not phased by the generous gift. “the nether..” she shook her head, placing the valuable materials onto the table, “is not a place i like to go. and most of this will probably be going toward dream’s armor, anyway.” she sighed, placing the gifts back into the box and laying the tattered shirts on top of them. “trust me, he’s still too kind for his own good with these sorts of materials.”

“how much netherite does that man have?” ghostbur scoffed, looking at how much was contained in the box.

“probably quadruple that amount,” y/n chuckled. “he has far too much free time.”

“and he doesn’t even spend it with you,” ghostbur sighed, shaking his head with a goofy smile.

“i know!” y/n spoke sarcastically before laughing out. she closed the box and set it under the table. “i’ll deal with that later. do you want any more pancakes, tommy?”

“no, i’m stuffed,” the teen yawned. “but thank you.”

she nodded. “well, then how about ghostbur shows you around the territory today?”

the boys perked up immediately. “really?”

“yeah,” she laughed, taking tommy’s empty plate. “you two can take the day to explore and have fun. go be a kid, kid.”

tommy excitedly looked up to his ghost friend. “fancy a game of ultimate tag?”

“you’re gonna get crushed,” ghostbur laughed before they both ran out of the house, laughing. y/n smiled.

“oh! i should make them lunch..”

...

“how big is this place?” tommy laughed after a few rounds of tag. they had found their way to a pond in a forested area, tommy deciding his knee needed a break after all of their running. 

“it’s bigger than you think,” ghostbur assured, making sure to keep an appropriate distance from the water as they sat along the small shore. “y/n claimed the territory before l’manberg, so there really wasn’t any need for a turf war of any sorts for what she settled.”

“how long has she lived here?” tommy questioned.

ghostbur shrugged. “almost two years, i think. she’s made quite the life for herself since.” more to himself, he muttered, “god, has it really been that long since it happened?”

“since what happened?” tommy asked, leaning closer to his friend with sparkling, curious eyes.

ghostbur sighed, “i’ll admit, i don’t remember too much.. but i know there was a fight. one of the first wars of our time, and it was all over y/n.”

“they were fighting for her?” tommy spoke with confusion. “she’s not an object.”

“very good, tommy,” ghostbur prided, patting his friend on the shoulder. “you’re right, she’s not. that’s why y/n left her original home and sought to create neutral territory; to end the fighting and create a place where peace could reign. in exchange, she’d offer her goods and services.”

“so they were fighting over her for her skills,” tommy understood. ghostbur made a face. “..or not?”

“both sides obviously wanted her skills, but i think y/n tends to neglect the fact that they were all madly in love with her,” ghostbur sighed, shaking his head.

tommy raised his eyebrows. “a crime of passion, eh?” he joked, making them both laugh out before he asked, “who was it?”

“let me think,” ghostbur sighed, tapping his chin. “i know one was dream, but the other.. i think it was-”

“boys! lunch is ready when you are!”

tommy turned back to ghostbur. “well? who?”

ghostbur shook his head. “sorry, tommy, i don’t remember that far. that’s as much as i can tell you.”

tommy couldn’t help but fel disappointed, but he knew he couldn’t blame his friend. “that’s alright, ghostbur. let’s go get lunch before y/n comes looking for us.”

...

after lunch and an insistent rematch of tag, ghostbur and tommy made their way to the organized garden area.

“y/n grows anything you can imagine,” ghostbur bragged as tommy marveled as the fluorescent, beautifully natural area. “she’s been to nearly every biome to complete her garden.”

“you can grow cocoa?!” tommy exclaimed when he finally spotted y/n, who was swinging an axe at a low jungle tree.

“y/n found a way,” ghostbur shrugged, guiding tommy over to her. “hey, y/n!”

“hi, boys,” she smiled, plucking off the plant she had loosened from the tree. “was lunch good? im sorry i didn’t stay and chat.”

“it was delicious,” ghostbur complimented, tommy nodding in agreement as his mind drifted back to the mouth watering coleslaw and toasted sandwiches she had prepared.

“that’s good!” she smiled, placing the cocoa plant on the ground. “you boys may want to step back.” they did as told as y/n swung her axe over her head, splitting the cocoa clean in half and revealing the delicious beans inside of it. “voila!”

ghostbur clapped politely. “thank you,” y/n laughed, dropping her axe and picking up the split plant. “would you boys like a sample?”

“sure,” tommy shrugged, stepping forward with ghostbur. he picked out a few beans before popping them into his mouth. breaking through the semi-tough shell, the delicious, dark taste flooded his taste buds and made him nearly moan, as y/n’s food often did. he and ghostbur shared a look of satisfaction before he voiced, “oh, y/n.. they’re perfect.”

“that’s good,” she laughed before nudging her bucket closer to her and scooping the seeds out into it. “how has your day around the territory been?”

“entertaining,” tommy spoke before asking, “how did you get into gardening, y/n?”

y/n gave ghostbur a knowing smile before she answered the younger boy’s question, “i was tired of eating only meat and bread. gardening was a way to expand my diet to more than just carbs and proteins. also, it’s very calming.” they followed when she hiked up her bucket and moved to the next jungle tree.

“is it?” tommy questioned.

she affirmed with a nod. “it’s nice to be able to spend a day tending to things you made. the fruits of your own harvest are the sweetest, they say.” they watched as she knocked down another cocoa plant.

“they are,” tommy nodded solemnly, his mind drifting to a sadder, more familiar place. “that’s why i miss l’manberg.”

y/n was barely surprised by the boy’s open confession. she tossed her axe down again, going to place a hand on tommy’s shoulder. “i know you do, tommy, and i know it’s rough right now. but what we’re playing here is a waiting game; we’re waiting for a safe opportunity to get you home, and in the meantime, i’ll take care of you, kid.”

tommy offered you another nod and a smile. “we?”

y/n gave him a kind grin. “im going to help you as best as i can from where i am. and i know that’s not much from me, but i know that everyone deserves a home that they love. and you can’t get there alone, kid.”

“you’re right about that,” tommy sighed before looking into her kind eyes. “thank you, y/n. your help means a lot.”

she squeezed his shoulder. “of course, tommy. you and ghostbur go explore some more; try to keep your mind on the things you can control.” she picked her axe back up.

tommy looked to the pitying ghoul beside him before looking back to y/n, a new thought fresh in his mind. “can you teach me how to cook?”

y/n grinned as she lifted her axe over her head again. “of course i can, tommy.”

tommy smiled as she cracked open the plant. he looked back to ghostbur. “wanna go for a swim?” the ghost shot him a fearful look. “im kidding! im kidding, let’s go use some pigs for target practice.” they both began to walk off, chatting and giggling before tommy turned and called, “y/n!” she looked up attentively. “what’s for dinner?”

she smiled. “i was thinking ribs!”

tommy’s mouth watered at the thought. “oh my god, i can’t wait to learn how to cook..”

tag list!! @vanhakirja @victory-is-here @inkyynki @airiour @sylum @kiritokunuwu @221bee-slytherin @bllatrixcarpnter @soullesstaco @stxrryb1tch​ comment below or message me if you would like to be added <3

#youtubers x reader #youtubers fanfic #mcyt x reader #mcyt fanfic #dream smp x reader #dream smp fanfic #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit fanfic #dream x reader #dream fanfic #ghostbur x reader #ghostbur fanfic

[sigmaleph]

@serinemolecule asked me for hot takes on this 2006 article on Argentinian food, which I am now reorganising into a proper post for y'all's consumption. you're welcome.

First of all: the titular thesis that you should eat two steaks a day. I am forced to clarify that as 'should's go you should eat zero steaks a day, but this is ethical rather dietary advice and I don't follow it as well as I should, so, y'know. I would engage with this on the level it was stated, but I actually have no opinion on it. Moving on...

Argentine beef really is extraordinary. Almost all of this has to do with how the cows are raised. There are no factory feedlots in Argentina; the animals still eat pampas grass their whole lives, in open pasture, and not the chicken droppings and feathers mixed with corn that pass for animal feed in the United States.

This is, as it happens, completely false. There absolutely is plenty of feedlot beef being eaten in Argentina, and this was also the case back when this article was written. There's grass-fed beef too, and maybe the writer structured their life around only eating those, but the claim that there are no feedlots is just not true.

if you let them make the call, you get a two-inch thick of meat[...]The Argentine steak stands alone, towering three inches over the plate,[...]This gorgeous specimen is called a lomito; it's a standard lunchtime steak, clearly so thin that the Argentines are embarrassed to send it out into the world without a protective wrapping of ham and cheese

I have no idea what their obsession with steak thickness is; meat exists at various levels of thick and thin to suit various tastes. If you like yours thick that's fine but quit the projecting, y'know.

As you might expect, vegetarians will have a somewhat rough time here. For most people in Argentina, a vegetarian is something you eat. One's diet will accordingly lean heavily on pastas, gnocchi, salads, and (for the less squeamish ) fish. Vegans will not survive in Argentina.

This is, unfortunately, true (well, hyperbole, but). Rinna had a rather bad time trying to find vegan food when fae came over for visits. The situation is improving slowly, at least.

The homemade cookies bought in the minimarket downstairs taste of steak. [picture of alfajores de maicena[

Jesus. Find somewhere better to buy your snacks.

It should be no surprise that the land of beef also has excellent milk and butter. The milk comes in plastic bags that would give any American marketing department a heart attack. They proudly advertise "GUARANTEED 100% BRUCELLOSIS AND HOOF-AND-MOUTH FREE". One brand even brags that its bacteria count never exceeds 100,000 per mL, and prints daily statistics to prove it (only 82,000 bacteria/mL on Monday! mmm!).

Are you under the impression American milk doesn't contain bacteria and that when it spoils it's because of the molecules' sheer willpower? Or do you just object to the reminder that they exist?

This menu is delicious, but with rare exceptions it is all you are going to get. People coming for more than a few weeks are advised to bring a discreet bottle of Tabasco sauce.

Eat at better restaurants.

With any order from the master menu comes the Bread Basket, which should be treated as you would treat a basket of wax fruit, that is, as a purely decorative ornament. It is considered bad form to actually eat anything from Bread Basket

What are you talking about. Do all your dining companions just suck, eat some bread.

Dulce de leche is a culinary cry for help. It says "save us, we are baffled and alone in the kitchen, we don't know what to do for dessert and we're going to boil condensed milk and sugar together until help arrives". This cloying dessert tar is so impossibly sweet that you wish you were ten years old again, just so you could actually enjoy it. It is everywhere. There is a special dulce de leche shelf in the supermarket dairy case, and the containers go up to a liter in size. Even the churros are stuffed with it - the churros, Montresor!

It is rare that I feel insulted for the sake of my country, but this? How dare you.

Yes, of course we fill churros with dulce de leche; the real question is why anyone doesn't, short of dietary restrictions. Finding out that people do otherwise was like learning that in other countries, "sandwich" just means two slices of bread. Live a little. Eat a real godsdamned churro.

I spent a considerable amount of time trying to figure out how meals work in Argentina, and they remain a mystery to me. Dinner is clear enough: people tend to go to restaurants beginning at ten o'clock (for those with small children), with the main rush around eleven, and dinner is pretty much over at one or so in the morning. And breakfast - or rather, its absence - follows as a logical consequence of eating a steak the size of a beagle at midnight. But I have yet to figure out whether people eat some kind of meal in the afternoon, and if so, when.

At... noon? Like. We eat lunch. Usually somewhere around 12:00. I am eating lunch right now, and I have done so essentially every day of my life. This is just baffling.

I've come to think the culprit in the missing Argentine lunch scene is yerba mate.

how.

Where the ignorant foreigner may see just another kind of herbal tea (yerba mate is a very unassuming shrub that grows in the northern parts of the country) the Argentine sees a taste treat of unimaginable subtlety, and a tonic for all his problems. The Wikipedia article on proper mate preparation should give you a warning of the level of obsessiveness attainable here (the Urugayans are even worse). To the virgin palate, mate tastes like green tea mixed with grass clippings. The beverage is traditionally drunk out of a little gourd, through a metal straw called a bombilla, with hot (but not boiling!!) water poured into it (without wetting the surface!! clockwise!!) from a thermos.

Yeah, this is accurate. Well, not the clockwise part, never heard anyone complain about that and I can't imagine it mattering.

What distinguishes mate from coffee and tea is the social context - two or more people share a gourd, with a designated pourer in charge of refilling it with hot water after each turn. The ritual is low-fuss but indispensible. You can buy mate gourds and thermoses in any grocery store, and get your thermos filled with hot water at any convenience store or gas station, but you will never see mate served in restaurants or sold in little disposable paper gourds, to go. it's not that people refuse to drink mate alone - anyone working a solitary shift will have a gourd in hand - but that the concept of being served mate by someone who does not share it with you seems impossible.

This is also true. Attempts have been made to sell to-go mate but it's never very popular, the social ritual is important. Also unfortunately a disease vector, I haven't had any mate in a year and a half.

Mate aficionados will tell you that mate contains a special compound, mateine, that serves as a tonic and mild stimulant, promoting alertness without making it hard to sleep, reducing fatigue and appetite, helping the digestion and serving as a mild diuretic. Scientists will tell you that mateine bears a suspicious resemblance to a chemical called caffeine. Mate aficionados will then grow indignant, explaining that mateine is really a stereoisomer (mirror image) of caffeine, with different effects, which will in turn irritate the scientists, who will snap that caffeine doesn't have a chiral center, so it can't have a distinguishable mirror image, and why don't the mate aficionados just put a sock in it.

The first part of this is true; some people definitely think "mateine" is different from caffeine and it absolutely isn't. Never heard the stereoisomer claim before but googling it does confirm some people say so.

still have no idea what any of this has to do with lunch, though. I promise you nobody skips lunch because mate is just too filling.

The wine here is very good (something has to stand up to that steak), but Argentina has no liquor to call its own, relying on whiskies like Old Smuggler and the low-maintenance Don Juan cognac to carry the flag.

There's a fundamental omission from this list and it's called fernet.

Beer is ubiquitous and comes in a bewildering variety of sizes, although there is a skittishness about the full-on liter. Things level off at 970 mL. In my case, it means I end up drinking 1940 mL of beer as a kind of personal protest, and all is well with the world. To make up for the abundance of sizes, beer comes in only one variety, Quilmes, which inevitably comes served with a tripartite platter of snacks - nuts, salty cylinders, and aged potato chips.

I never had trouble buying beer by the litre, but I confess I never tried to do so in 2006 on account of being under 18 at the time.

Anyway, beer comes in a lot more varieties today, thankfully, because Quilmes sucks. I'll never be a beer person, but at least these days there's options I tolerate.

[original post]

#dreamwidth crosspost

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Waking Up Alone

This is for my anon who requested something angsty and fluffy with El Phantasmo- hope you enjoy! The idea is partially inspired by the Cowboy Junkies song "Sun comes up, it's Tuesday morning". (I am the queen of sad lady songs, I swear.)

Pairing: El Phantasmo x OFC

Word count: 3.091

Content advisory: language, sexual references

Sun comes up, it’s Tuesday morning

Hits me straight in the eye

Guess you forgot to close the blind last night

Oh that’s right, I forgot, it was me

The morning sun feels like an assault on your eyes, punching its way through your delicate eyelids and right through into your nerves. Yeah, you definitely had a few too many drinks last night. Gin and tonic with the girls, which you hadn’t done in ages. It ended up with pitchers at the dive you’d been frequenting since you were too young to get into bars, the place that truly catered to everyone. Beer after liquor, never sicker; liquor before beer, in the clear. Why the hell had you switched from liquor to beer?

Doesn’t matter now, you think, wrestling yourself into a sitting position while protecting your eyes with a trembling hand. Wrestling yourself. You sigh a little as you consider the term that immediately springs to mind. You didn’t mention the breakup to the girls. It still feels too strange, too ephemeral. Were you ever really a couple anyway? You suppose that’s the crux of the problem. You didn’t know where you stood, so you’d estimated that you were somewhere it turned out you weren’t close to.

If Riley The Perfidious Bastard were around, he would have made sure to lower the Roman shade you’d fashioned out of an old curtain and some bamboo rods. He was always impressed at your ability to create homey touches from spare parts. Now that he’s not around, you realize how much you’d liked having your abilities praised.

If Riley were here, you’d also be waking up to the smell of coffee, the most wonderful thing in the world for someone in your condition. But there’s nothing. No rich, roasted scent, no happy, burbling noises from the machine in the kitchen. You have to get up and take care of it yourself, which you haven’t had to do in a long time. Goddammit.

You run one hand over the expanse of your king bed, the plump mattress extending almost all the way to the window. Sure, the thing took up most of the room but you didn’t care. The room was only going to be used for sleep anyway. Well, sleep and that other, delicious thing. That thing you missed so much. Well, you missed it the way that Riley had done it. If he was really gone, you were going to have a hell of a time finding someone who could make you want to spend all day in bed the way he had. You still hadn’t made your way back to the center of the bed. Somehow, your mind refused to accept that things were over. You were still making space for him.

With a dramatic effort that has no one to appreciate it, you heave yourself off the bed and make your way towards the kitchen. You’re halfway through the process of making coffee when you realize that you’re wearing one of his shirts, one of the ones with his logo emblazoned on it. You must have just reached for the first thing you could find when you got home and, of course, that would be something from the pile of shirts you’d made next to the bedroom door; shirts to be given to charity because you sure as hell didn’t want to look at them anymore. That pile had been sitting there for three weeks, the dried traces of angry tears still on every part of it, and you hadn’t gotten around to carrying everything to the donation bin less than a block away.

Coffee is more important than anything right now, so you focus on that. You also shove a couple of pieces of bread in the toaster oven. Bread and peanut butter will help ease the seething broth in your gut and allow you to concentrate on the day. Which would be even more useful if your day actually required concentration. Band practice had been pushed back to tomorrow because Kyle and Lily were off in the country visiting her parents. Sure, you could work on the guitar parts by yourself, but it’s not like there was anything to learn. You had a handful of gigs coming up in the next few weeks, mostly local, all focused on your last album. Practice was just a matter of making sure you all kept tight and maybe came up with some new ways to make the live experience a little different for people.

As autumn shifted closer to winter, it was always the quiet season. Students were running short on money, the weather became unpredictable, and going on the road became less and less lucrative the closer it got to the holidays. It was approaching that time of year when people started to nest rather than seek a mate. Or at least that’s how it was for most people. It just wasn’t that way for wrestlers dividing their time between North America and Japan. You cringe at how that thought makes you recall the fights you’d had in the last few days of your whatever the hell it was because apparently it wasn’t a relationship.

It’s a very different feeling than at the beginning of spring, when everything was starting to pick up, when you constantly felt excited about what the immediate future held, and when you’d agreed to go to a wrestling show because Nadia was doing makeup for it. You and Wendy had shown up already drunk and had taken advantage of Nadia’s invitation to come backstage.

You’d stolen beer from kraft services and watched Nadia attending to her work while you tried to distract her by making her laugh. You’d been surprisingly successful but she was such a pro that she had no problems. The women took the longest for her to do, but all the performers had to come in to make sure that they’re coloring and contouring was perfect for tv lighting and that was how you’d met him.

The two of you had locked eyes as soon as he came in the room and had remained that way as he settled into Nadia’s chair. You hadn’t been able to tear yourself away from those huge, shiny orbs with their saucy expression and despite your inebriated state, you could feel that stare lodging itself in your memory forever.

“This is El Phantasmo,” she giggled.

“He’s a what now?” you’d snorted in response, relishing the flare of indignation in his eyes.

“Are we letting just anyone back here now?” he snapped.

“These are my friends!” Nadia assured him, slurring her speech as she motioned to you and Wendy. You’d been feeding her the beer you’d purloined as well.

“Like I said. We’re letting just anyone in.”

At that, you’d given his seat a shove with your foot, despite the fact that Nadia had started to apply bronzer to his cheeks. He was left with a dark streak across one side of his face and nose, which had made you and Wendy crack up.

“Come on,” Nadia chided, “I need to make these guys look good.”

“Good luck with that,” you laughed.

The man you knew only as El Phantasmo flipped you off and you’d returned the gesture, swiveling on your seat a little so that your hips were thrust forward. It wasn’t that he was the most gorgeous thing you’d ever seen, far from it. But something about him just got to you. He had such an effect on you that even as you were mocking him, you let your body move and pose in ways that were intended to resonate with his basest masculine instincts.

You’d been captivated by the show, particularly by his display of athleticism, as well as his bratty defiance to what the audience wanted. You’d booed him with everything you had and you’d been so drawn to him that you’d had to restrain yourself from running to the ring and grabbing his pert ass right there.

Instead, you’d made your way backstage again and insinuated yourself into the group that was going for drinks. You insisted that Nadia come along because Wendy had headed home as soon as the show was over. You wanted someone to hang out with so that it wasn’t totally obvious what and who you were there for. It didn’t really matter, though, because everyone was so friendly and most were so drunk that they didn’t care that they had no idea who you were.

You’d kept an eye on him for a while and then approached the bar when you saw him going for a refill, elbowing your way in so that you were right next to him, bumping his shoulder hard as you got to the bar.

“You wanna buy me a drink?” you crooned.

“No.”

“Fine, I’ll buy you one.”

“Does that mean I have to hang out with you?”

“Yup. Besides, you know you want to.”

“I really don’t.”

He was laughing a little when you said it, and when you leaned over to scream your order at the bartender, ordering him a random drink since you hadn’t even bothered asking, he ran his hand down your back and gave your ass a quick slap. You’d smirked to yourself. You knew you’d seen the spark in his eyes.

“Riley,” he shouted right into your ear.

“Deaf now,” you shot back, pushing his drink at him. “You’re skinny for a wrestler.”

“Don’t need to bulk up when you’re as good as I am.”

“Anything else you’re good at?”

“Fucking women with big mouths until they can’t say anything but my name.”

The two of you had spent the night all over his apartment and, yeah, he’d lived up to his own hype. The sex had been outright feral, biting and clawing and animal-like noises until you were both too exhausted to move.

You thought about dropping a hint that you wanted to sleep there but since it was kind of obvious that this was a one-night thing, you’d waited a while then pulled your clothes back on to go. The two of you shared a surprisingly tender kiss at the door and when you made to leave, he’d looked surprised.

“You don’t want to exchange numbers or something?” He’d sounded legitimately surprised.

“Sure.”

You’d entered each other into your phones and you went home in a cab, reflecting that you did feel more of a connection than you’d realized at first.

Still, you held off calling him so as not to look desperate, but he’d called you a couple of days later. Not knowing what else to do, and not wanting to admit you were broke until your next royalty check cleared, you’d invited him over for dinner. The two of you had cooked some pasta together and drank a couple of bottles of wine and then tore into each other again, gradually making your way to your bed. Once again, it had been mind-blowing, but the real surprise came at the end of the night.

“Mind if I stay here?” he asked quietly.

You’d patted the pillows beside you and grinned. You’d drifted off thinking that, yes, this was something a little special and you’d woken up thinking the same thing.

Craving the crisp air on your reddened cheeks, you grab a sweater, jeans and boots and that wonderful alpaca poncho you’d found when you and Riley went to that farmer’s market. It was a weird thing to find in a place that was supposed to be all about food but it didn’t matter because it was soft and full of deep colours and even though it had been hotter than hell outside, you knew that you were going to get plenty of use from it once the weather turned colder. At the time, you thought that you’d still be going for walks and dinner and drinks with Riley.

As you get ready, your phone buzzes. Wendy sending you a message.

“Never let me do that again.”

You chuckle, remembering that however bad you got last night, she was the one who ended up trying to dance on the bar, refusing to acknowledge that she couldn’t climb up on it. You’ll all have a good laugh about it later but right now, you can’t deal with it. And the reason you can’t deal with it is because for a second, you’d hoped that it was him texting you.

Your body immediately knows where it wants to go, turning the first corner and heading for the hipster diner you eat from too often. They make a mean breakfast burrito but today, you limit yourself to one of those extra buttery croissants you love so much.

Joanne is working the counter, which is kind of remarkable since you remember running into her late into the night, but although her face is flushed the same as you, she’s smiling warmly at every customer.

“Hey there, lady,” she chuckles. “Still walking?”

“Barely. May I please have coffee and a croissant? And may I ask why Peter isn’t working this morning?”

She prepares your order, grinning. “Well he had some of the guys over to watch the game last night and it turns out he’s in worse shape than I am.”

“The bastard.”

“He was totally unconscious this morning. I hope he’s not dead because being a widow would suck.”

Everyone is in a relationship. Everyone you know is in love. It hurts a lot to think that one of those things is still true of you.

Things had gone to shit over an instagram post of all things. Him during a trip back to Japan, posing with a woman who looked straight out of a modelling agency. Immediately, you’d felt in your gut that something was off and although you hadn’t wanted to seem like you were scrutinizing his every movement, you’d been unable to hold back.

“Is something going on with you and that girl in the pictures with you?”

“Going on?” He’d seemed puzzled. “I mean, we hook up when I’m in Japan. No big deal.”

That’s where he had been wrong. It was a very big deal for you. The two of you hadn’t talked about your status but you realized that you had been assuming that because you’d been wrapped up in the romance of it all that he was too. Apparently not.

It had led to a huge fight, then another resentful exchange, and then he was back in Japan for a week. You hadn’t messaged him at all while he was gone. He didn’t contact you when he got back. You’d come home one day to find your spare set of keys in an envelope in your mailbox. No note, nothing. No request to get his set back from you. Giving someone a spare set of keys was supposed to mean something. How many women had keys to his place?

You ponder it glumly for the umpteenth time as you make your way back to the home that always feels strangely empty to you now. You’d been in the place for five years. He’d been coming around for five months and somehow it feels like he belonged there. You see a figure sitting on the front step of one of the buildings and for a second, you think it’s him, waiting for you to get home, like he used to before he had keys and could go in and surprise you with dinner, or flowers, or-

Then you realize that it actually is him, sitting on your step, drinking a beer and staring off into space. He doesn’t even look up when you come to a halt next to him.

“Dude, it’s nine in the morning. Are you starting early or finishing late?”

He shrugs without looking at you and after a long moment of silence, you sit down next to him. You tear the croissant in half and silently offer it to him but he shakes his head.

“For the love of god, eat something.”

He shakes his head again.

“Fine, become an alcoholic and drink yourself to death for all I care.” You bite into the delicious pastry, humming in satisfaction and finally he reaches over and takes the other half from you.

“Good boy.”

“Here’s the thing,” he says quietly. “I thought that since you’d never said anything, it meant that you had other guys in your life. All the guys I work with either lie to their wines and girlfriends or they just have these open things going on and I guess after a while it starts to seem like that’s the normal thing to do.”

“Well I never said that I was opposed to that. I never said that we couldn’t work something out. But you didn’t even give me the chance. You just carried on as if I didn’t even exist.”

“I didn’t, though.” For the first time, he turns to look at you. His eyes are red and swollen and something tells you that it isn’t from drinking. “I said that I’d hooked up with that girl and I had. In the past. Nothing happened when I was there last time.”

“Then why did you let me believe that something had?”

“I have no fucking idea. And that’s been killing me.”

With a heavy sigh, you reach out and place your hand on his. He immediately grabs hold.

“I think,” he says pensively, “that I felt nervous about telling you I was serious about you. I was nervous because I haven’t felt this serious about someone before. And when you got angry, I think I just flipped out and thought it meant that I was wrong.”

“Wrong for having feelings?”

“Wrong for thinking you did too.”

Your stomach flips and you tighten your hold on his hand.

“Well I did.”

He nods and stares off, his face twitching a little like he’s trying to keep from crying.

“I still do,” you tell him.

He turns and stares at you, big eyes surprised and hopeful.

“Really? Because I’m an asshole.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, “I know.”

“I miss you,” he whispers.

“Why don’t you come in and have a cup of coffee?”

“Only if I can make it,” he grins. “You always put too much in.”

“Asshole,” you grunt, standing up and pulling him with you.

As you unlock the door, he leans in and plants a warm kiss on your cheek.

“Thanks,” he murmurs.

The two of you enter your flat, hand in hand again.

#el phatasmo imagine #el phantasmo fanfic #njpw fanfic #njpw imagine #wrestling imagine #wrestling fanfiction #wayward wrestle writing

[nanoland]

Title: Besyd the scarcety of bread amowngst us

Fandom: Supernatural 

Pairing: Crowley/Dean Winchester

Summary: In which Dean asks a question.

Warnings: Crowley being Extremely traumatized and kind of oblivious to that fact + SPN demons being SPN demons (i.e. remorseless bodysnatchers) + Dean being his casually misogynistic self + graphic descriptions of starvation + exhibitionism (sorta?) + sexually explicit content because this was MEANT to be straightforward smut and then Crowley happened, the prick.

Also on AO3!

0  

“So how come you aren’t a hot chick?”

The glass stills an inch from Crowley’s pale lips. “I humbly beg your pardon?”

It’s late. The bar’s quiet. He doesn’t need Dean to repeat himself. Just a moment to decide on a response.

Well on the way to utterly shit-faced, Dean gestures vaguely, meaninglessly. “You offer people stuff. Then, ten years later, you drag ‘em to Hell. And – and they know that’s what’s gonna happen if they make a deal with you. Which means that you gotta be real fuckin’ persuasive. Which you are. Grade A Bullshit Artist and don’t I know it. But... uh, what was I gonna… yeah, wouldn’t it be easier, right, just way easier if you were a hot chick?”

Crowley can tell he’s not done, so he keeps his silver tongue behind his faintly yellowed teeth for the moment.

While Dean is usually delightful company, in his surly, macho way, this evening there’s an uncommonly obnoxious edge to everything he says. That almost certainly means his insecurities over what he’s been letting Crowley do to his arse lately are acting up.

Understandable. Still annoying.

So Crowley’s more than willing to let his favourite human dig himself a wee bit deeper before pouring boiling tar into the pit.

After quickly throwing back the last of his drink, Dean goes on: “Now, I didn’t go to some dickslurp business school. I ain’t that brand of asshole. But I’ve seen enough beer ads in my time to have an idea of how marketing works. You got something you want people to buy? Fastest way is to get a hot chick in a bikini to hold it up. Because guys have most of the money in this shitty world of ours and guys think with their dicks. I know I do. So why did you decide to possess someone who looks like a balding, middle-aged banker going through a stressful divorce? That ain’t enticing. That ain’t capturing anyone’s interest. Y’know?”

“Mm,” says Crowley, and stands up.

“Fuck’re you doing?” Dean slurs, watching him take off his tie.

“Ever heard of the Seven Ill Years, Squirrel?”

“Nope. Seriously, what’re you doing?”

Draping his overcoat over the back of his chair along with his tie, Crowley sets about taking off his jacket. “‘The Seven Ill Years’ refers to a particularly shitty time in early modern Scotland; the 1690s.”

He tugs off his costly leather shoes and places them side-by-side under his chair. “I was in my… early thirties at the time, I think. Thirty-two? Maybe thirty-one. Whatever.”

Dean is gaping now. He’s never seen Crowley without his outer layers, much less the growing slice of exposed chest as Crowley unbuttons his shirt.

“For a lot of complicated reasons relating to oceanic thermohaline circulation, solar activity, and a few ill-timed volcanos, the weather turned rotten. These days, it’s called the Little Ice Age. Us pigshit stupid peasants who lived through it didn’t know anything about all that. All we knew was that it was freezing bloody cold and the crops kept dying.”

“Dude,” Dean hisses, red-faced as Crowley sets his shirt alongside his jacket and overcoat. “Stop it! We’re going to be thrown out!”

“No. Look around. Is anyone paying attention to us? Precisely. We’re invisible to them at the moment, Squirrel. One of my little tricks.”

“Oh. Okay, that’s good. But that’s still not an excuse to take your fucking pants off in public oh my God oh my God!”

They’re expensive pants and Crowley takes care to fold them before putting them down. “To cut a long story short; famine struck. And famine, it’s…”

Crowley pauses, thinking, ignoring Dean’s pathetic attempts not to gawk at his dick.

“It’s hard to describe famine to someone who hasn’t lived through one,” he says eventually. “Language – English, at least – isn’t equipped to convey what it feels like to be so hungry you’ll try to boil and eat someone else’s shoes. Then someone else’s children. Then your own children. There are no words for it. Or, if in some distant corner of our monstrous universe there are, then they’re words that would drive a human raving mad to speak them.”

Naked now but for his black socks, Crowley scratches his stubble. “Sometimes I think that’s why I got on so well in Hell.”

He sits back in his chair. Folds his legs. Taps his fingers on the side of his empty glass. “Don’t get me wrong; having someone cut open your lungs, fill them with scorpions, and sew them up again isn’t fun. But – how can I put this? – you can process it. You can grapple with it. You know why you’re suffering; because you’re in Hell, and that’s what Hell is for. It makes sense. What doesn’t make sense is going about your everyday life and watching all the people around you – the baker, the priest, the prettiest girl in the village – go about theirs while they turn into walking skeletons. And knowing they didn’t do anything to deserve it. Couldn’t have done anything to deserve it, because no crime, no matter how vile, warrants that kind of punishment.”

Dean says nothing.

After a moment, Crowley pulls himself from the dark, sucking well of memory to add, “Anyway, to answer your question; I don’t want to be a hot chick because a. I’m a man and b. hot chicks are skinny, and I will cheerfully burn this world to the ground before I endure living in a hungry body ever again.”

He glances down at his unclothed meat suit and smiles proudly, running a hand up one of its thick thighs. “Also – y’know – I personally think this long-deceased lad of mine is sexy as Hell.”

Gazing at his shoulder, Dean says roughly, “Didn’t know you had tattoos.”

“Oh. Those. Yeah. Can’t stand them. Worst decision the stupid bastard ever made.”

“I think they’re kinda cool.”

“Do you? Well, you do have incredibly bad taste so perhaps that’s not surprising. Now, are you going to get over here and put that erection to good use?”

Oh, bless him; he’s adorable when he squirms.

“Here?” Dean asks, eyes wide.

“Here.”

He says it like a challenge, for Dean can never resist one of those. Immediately, those wide eyes become narrow and determined.

The boy stands. Looms over Crowley, who casually flicks both their glasses to the floor and moves to sit on the cool wooden table. It’s clean, more or less, thanks to Dean (for once) agreeing to follow Crowley to a semi-respectable establishment.

“These hands,” Crowley murmurs, running them across Dean’s broad chest, “don’t have a single callous or scar. See? Soft as butter. Not a single day’s honest work, either of them.”

Dean swallows. Leans in to kiss him, hesitant and gentle.

Contrary to popular belief, Crowley likes gentle. Or, more accurately, Crowley likes being pampered.

He goes on: “And these legs…”

A groan escapes Dean’s lips as one presses up against his crotch.

“…these legs haven’t walked more than ten miles, collectively, since I moved in. No muscles. No blisters on the undersides of their feet. Not so much as a splinter.”

“Jesus,” Dean mumbles, drawing him in and latching onto his neck.

“And this stomach is never empty. Never even close. Never once forced to digest anything that isn’t purely, perfectly delicious. I treat my meat suits better than most people treat their family heirlooms.”

“Crowley. Fuck.”

He squeezes Dean’s arse and growls, “Because this is my reward, Dean. I won this. This softness, this safety. This nurtured, nourished flesh. I endured the seventeenth century and all humanity’s horrors. Endured my mother. Endured Hell. Built myself a reputation and a kingdom. All for this. And isn’t it wonderful? Say that it is, Dean.”

“Yeah,” Dean moans, even though he can’t understand a word; Crowley slipped into Gaelic a while ago.

(The things Crowley wants to tell Dean and the things Crowley wants Dean to know are categories that rarely overlap.)

Crowley takes Dean’s leaking cock in hand.

“Say I’m beautiful.”

Dean’s knees buckle as he whimpers, so Crowley wraps an arm around his narrow, underfed waist.

“Say you love me.”

Dean comes in his palm, gasping and cursing.

“Say you love me more than anyone else.”

“I’m guessing that was all Scottish dirty talk?” says Dean when he has his breath back. “You were – what? Calling me your bitch?”

Crowley smirks, licks the sweat off Dean’s jaw, and gives his backside a pat before reaching for his clothes. “None of your business. Go get me another drink, would you? Ta.”

 the end

NOTES: The title is taken from a quote found in Karen Cullen’s ‘Famine in Scotland: the ‘Ill Years’ of the 1690s’ (you can find extracts via googlebooks). Yes, canonically Crowley WOULD have been about thirty when this happened. Just in case his origin story wasn’t horrific enough wheee :D

#drowley #dean winchester #crowley #supernatural #spn crowley #my fic

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Mabel’s All-in-One Guide to Being a Shooting Star: How to Avoid Being Caught and Other Tips You Should Know

Chapter Three: Not Dipper

A big ol thank you to @edward-or-ford and @pacific-ship!

He’s so tall and handsome as hell; he’s so bad but he does it so well. I can see the end as it begins.- Taylor Swift, Wildest Dreams

Warmth.

Warmth and safety.

Those were the first things Mabel noticed when she woke up for those few brief seconds, the first things she could recall feeling. She was too tired to open her eyes, and her head was freaking killing her, but there was warmth seeping into her skin like melted butter into bread, and something smelled remarkably good.

It wasn’t a familiar smell, not by any means, but she found she liked it quite a lot. She turned her face towards the warm, smooth fabric the scent was coming from, nuzzling it happily with a small smile.

It didn’t help her killer headache, of course, but her bed or whatever it was, it smelled goooooood, and she was all for it.

She felt as if nothing could touch her, there in that little bubble of delicious-smelling warmth, and she wondered idly if Dipper was around, because she only ever felt so happy and safe when she was with him.

When had she seen him last, again? Mabel couldn’t remember. She couldn’t remember anything, really.

Oh well. Whatever. She was warm. She was safe. She was comfortable. She was happy. She smiled again, just a little bit, as her thoughts faded when she lost consciousness again.

She would not be so content when she woke the second time.

———————————————————————

There was a throbbing in her skull. An intense kind, particularly in her temples and behind her eyes. It hurt worse when she opened her eyes, and it took them several rapid blinks to adjust to lights that were actually quite dim, but with her concussion headache, they seemed ridiculously bright against the blue ceiling.

“Yeesh,” she muttered, sitting up on the… was that a chaise? Yup, okay, that was definitely a chaise. She’d never even seen one in person; those things were for fancy people. Mabel had always been many things, but fancy most certainly wasn’t one of them.

Anyway, she was sitting up on the super-duper fancy chaise, her hands supporting her. “My head, what in the…” Dammit, her wrists and arms hurt, too, those were, ugh, were those rope marks? They sure looked like rope marks.

There was a sound nearby when she spoke loud enough to be heard, but Mabel’s head was throbbing so loudly in her ears that she couldn’t hear much of anything. She massaged the skin on her wrists, trying to get the soreness to dissipate. It didn’t.

And then the whole thing came rushing back.

Shit. Was she married to the gnomes now? Was that gonna be her life? No, no, it was fine, gnome marriage wasn’t legally binding, she didn’t think, and even if it was, it wasn’t legal for somebody to marry a whole bunch of people at once, and it definitely wasn’t legal for that somebody to be an unwilling participant. Therefore, any marriage contracts they may or may not have drawn up were null and void, legally speaking. Which meant she needed to escape. Which meant she needed to figure out where she was.

Wait, what about the blood-gnome? What was up with that? Or, shit, the floating glow-dude! What the heckity hecking heckfire was going on with that shiz?

Suddenly, out of nowhere (or perhaps not truly nowhere; she just hadn’t examined where she was just yet, as she hadn’t looked up), a pair of arms wrapped around her, and her head was squished against a very masculine, yummy-smelling (the same smell as before, actually! What a lovely coincidence!) chest. Mr. Hugglebus reached up and threaded his fingers through Mabel’s hair, holding her head against him.

“Mabel,” a voice whispered, like its owner couldn’t believe he was getting to say her name. It was familiar, but also very much not, and Mabel was, like, off-the-charts levels of confuzzled. “Mabel,” the voice said again. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

It was hard to think with the pounding in her ears, but she did her best to ignore it.

She had bigger things to deal with than a headache, no matter how nasty it was.

“Wh- whoa there, friend,” Mabel said shakily, putting her hand on his chest and pushing away from him lightly. Mr. Hugglebus pulled back enough for Mabel to get a proper look at him, and…

Wait.

What?

“Dipper?” she gasped. He said nothing. “What is up with your hair, man?” she laughed. “Or- or your getup, like! What? You goin’ to a fancy party or something? No, no, wait!” she was giggling, and it hurt her head, but it was just so goddamn good to see him she didn’t care. “Okay okay, I know! You’re doing, like, a knock-off impersonation of Gideon, right?” He furrowed his brow, annoyance filling his ice blue eyes.

But… wait. Ice blue eyes? Dipper has brown eyes. They were identical to hers. She knew this. She’d stared into those stupid-beautiful eyes of his a bazillion and one times. She knew her bro bro’s eyes, aight? She knew those suckers. This guy, though. This guy was different. Like. Different different.

“Are you… are you Dipper? ‘Cause like. The Dipster I know won’t even wear color contacts for cosplay purposes, and those eyes ain’t blue naturally, so…”

It was several moments before he finally spoke. He was gazing at her with this weirdly intense look in his eyes (holy crap, those eyes, they were so pretty, nobody’s eyes should be allowed to be that freakin’ blue) she’d never seen on anyone before.

“I’m not… your Dipper,” his emphasis the ‘your’ was strange, condescending, as if he loathed saying it.

She scooted away, her back hitting the arm of the chaise.

All she could think about was a gnome drenched in blood, babbling in terror before exploding violently.

”Then who are you?” she whispered, eyes wide.

He smiled, and not unkindly, either. It was… strange. It was a kind smile from someone who didn’t look like such things came to them naturally. It was nothing like her twin’s smile.

Nothing like it at all.

It did something to her insides. Something she didn’t understand. Something she didn’t know how to interpret or name.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, keeping his distance, his legs twitching as if he wanted to get closer to her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Okay,” she said, not believing him in the slightest. ‘Cause. Like. The blood-gnome. Had that been him? Had he done that? She hadn’t seen it, but in retrospect, it totally made sense for him to have done that somehow. “But who are you?” she asked again.

“I’m something of an… alternate version of the Dipper you know.” The more he spoke, the more she found his voice to be different and strange. Plus, he looked so similar to Dipper, but Mabel only ever saw her bro’s birthmark once in a blue moon. This guy had it front and center, and his hair was slicked back, and she lowkey wanted to touch it, just to see what it felt like. His voice was deeper than Dipper’s. More monotone, too. It was bizarre.

It was… it was attractive, is what it was. His look and attitude, the whole shebang, it was just insanely attractive. Wait, no, no! Mabel thought to herself. It’s cool, Mabel girl, you’re all good, everything’s a-okay, it’s just that he looks like your bro, alright? No big deal. Well, okay, you shouldn’t be having those kinds of thoughts about your bro, either, but we’re well past that.

“Alternate… version…?” Wait. Shit. Maybe he was… “Are you the anti-Dipper?” She whispered frantically, trying to back away more as if her back wasn’t already firmly pressed against the armrest. “There’s tons of different versions of me, I know that, but I’ve never seen another version of Dipper, and you look just freakin’ like him except for your whole… style and general demeanor, I guess, so-“ she was trying to get up, but holy hot pockets, that was some serious dizziness right there.

Moreover, was there another Mabel in this universe? She hadn’t seen another Mabel in years. It’d be… interesting to see one again. Wait, shit, if he was the anti-Dipper, there was the anti-Mabel somewhere around there, and Mabel was not at all confident she could currently best the anti-Mabel in a fight. And something told her the anti-Mabel wasn’t exactly one for fighting fair and waiting till she was ready. She wasn’t the meme-worth Inigo Montoya, and this wasn’t The Princess Bride.

Dammit.

Wait, he’d said he’d never expected to see her again. And she’d definitely never met him before, she would’ve remembered a fancy, older version of her bro, which could only mean he was talking about the other Mabel. Had something happened to her? Had she left, maybe?

“I’m not,” he cut in quickly, moving towards her slowly, like she was a feral cat ready to book it at any moment. “I’m not the… anti-Dipper, or whatever it was you said.”

She looked around. They appeared to be in some sort of dressing room. No, wait, it was Gideon’s dressing room! Except it wasn’t, because Not-Dipper was there, lounging on the ultra-fancy chaise as if he owned it, which he might very well have done, because Not-Dipper didn’t exactly look like he was a broke college student.

He looked like he used hundred dollar bills as tissues like Woody Harrelson in Zombieland.

Still very much fighting the urge to attempt to GTFO, as the kids say, Mabel turned back to him. “What are you, then?” He blinked for a moment, as if he were surprised, and then she belted out more questions. “What’s your name? How old are you? You don’t look like you’re the same age as me, which is weird if we’re kinda-sorta-pseudo-twins. Why am I here? Where even is here? How-“

“Okay, let’s do this properly, shall we?” He tilted his head when he spoke, the corners of his lips curling upwards in another one of those strange smiles that did something to Mabel’s insides. “One question at a time,” he said, holding up a long, slender finger. “You can ask me anything you want, and I promise to answer truthfully. However,” he crossed one leg over the other, his foot dangling off his knee, the arm closest to her draping casually over the back of the chaise, “for every question I answer, I get to ask one of you in return. You don’t have to answer me, of course, but if you choose not to, that’ll be the end of our little game,” he paused for a moment. “For the time being, at least. Sound fair?”

She nodded hesitantly. She could stop at any time, right?

“Go ahead, then,” he waved the hand that dangled haphazardly over the chaise.

“What’s your name?”

“Mason William Gleeful, but I’ve always been called Dipper,” he said easily, as if he’d been fully expecting that very question.

“Because of the birthmark, I assume,” Mabel was very careful not to phrase it as a question, not to raise the pitch in her voice at the end of her sentence. She didn’t know how he’d react if she asked two questions in a row.

“A fair assumption,” he agreed with a slight nod and another one of those smiles. Ugh. Could ya not, man? Like, for real, Mabel thought. His smile was most definitely not helping her nausea. “And your name? Your full name, if you would.”

“Oh, um,” was she seriously forgetting her own name? Jeez, Mabel, get it together, he’s not Dipper, get over it! “M- Mabel Caroline Pines,” she managed to stutter out.

“Pines, hm? Interesting. Alright then. Shall I go along with your other questions from before, as well?”

She shook her head. “Actually, I was wondering about your last name,” he raised his eyebrows at her and motioned for her to continue. “There’s a sort of… psychic, I guess is what you’d call him, in my universe, and he has that last name. Is that… I mean… we are in what looks like his dressing room, so…”

“I did shows here,” he said quietly, a strange look in his eye, as if he wasn’t seeing her despite looking right at her. “Once upon a time.”

“Oh. I see,” she squeaked out.

His gaze sharpened on her again, and he was moving closer to her, and Mabel tried to back up further, her sneakers scrambling against the fabric of the chaise. Eeek way too close way too close back the fudge up, man, what are you even-

“Why were you in his dressing room?” He was right in front of her face by that point, like waaaaaaay too close, ‘cause their noses were almost brushing and she could see each individual eyelash, and god his eyes were even more startlingly beautiful up close, and she wanted to reach up and touch-

No no no no, bad, bad Mabel, he’s not your Dipper, this is a different version! she told herself firmly. No touchy!

“We gave each other makeovers,” she said, trying very hard to keep her voice even. When he raised his eyebrows at her, she got mildly defensive. “I was twelve! He was… I dunno, ten or eleven! Jeez!” He chuckled at that, then leaned away from her, satisfied with her answer, she supposed, and resumed his previous position as if he’d never moved from it at all.

As if he hadn’t just sent a chill down her spine that was… not altogether unpleasant, which was significantly more concerning than it would’ve been if she’d hated every second he’d been near her.

She pursed her lips and put it from her mind. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-five,” he said easily. “And you?”

“Nineteen,” she told him quietly, surprised at his age. She glanced at the foot he’d balanced on his knee.

His shoes were fancy, too. Everything about him seemed to be. “Not what you were expecting, I see,” he observed from her expressions. Damn her and her expressive face!

“Well, it makes sense, because you certainly look older than… than my Dipper.” Her voice shook on the word ‘my’.

His hand clenched into a fist.

She didn’t know what to think of it. Was he angry, or did it mean nothing?

“But it also doesn’t make sense, because if it’s a parallel universe, we should be the same age, I would think.”

“Well, not necessarily,” Not-Dipper reasoned. “In some universes, time moves at different rates, from what I’ve gathered. In our case, it’s the same, but it seems I was born earlier. I was born in 1993, whereas you were born in…” he thought for a moment, tilting his head to the side. “1999.”

“Oh.” She’d never noticed that when interacting with other Mabels. Perhaps it was simply because she was too preoccupied with not dying. It had seemed rather urgent at the time.

“Indeed,” he nodded. “So, your questions,” he reminded her after a few seconds of silence.

“Right.” What had they been again? He kept looking at her, she had to get him to stop doing that. It was distracting. His eyes were distracting. She couldn’t think when they were in her, dammit. Oh! That was it! “Where are we?”

“My universe. I found you with and brought you here through a portal,” he stuck a hand in his pocket. “If you meant the locale, however, as I said before, this was our-“ he cut himself off, took a breath. “My dressing room until several years ago, when I stopped performing.”

“I… see,” she said slowly. So where was the other Mabel, then? Shouldn’t there be a fancy, blue-eyed, properly Adult™ version of herself somewhere? She looked around the dressing room (holy crapinoli, she didn’t think she’d ever seen so much blue in one room), but there were no signs of a woman anywhere. There were no perfume bottles or makeup on the vanity, no dresses on the clothing rack, nothing.

How strange.

“Why were you in Gravity Falls?” He asked.

“To get away.” Helooked at her questioningly. Did it count if it was an unspoken question? She wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t risking it. “I needed an escape. College can be… stressful.”

That wasn’t the full reason, of course, but she wasn’t lying, either.

“Interesting.” He tapped his fingers on his leg. How could a person’s fingers be pleasant to look at?

“Why did you bring me here?”

“You needed help,” he said simply, shrugging a shoulder. He winced slightly when he did, but just a bit; the change in expression so minor she wasn’t sure she’d seen it at all. “However did you find yourself kidnapped by gnomes, of all things? Gnomes who wanted you for their queen, no less.”

She looked away. It’d been a long time since she had fought against anything but class schedules and exams she wasn’t prepared for.

“They… caught me off guard,” she told him quietly. “They tried something similar when I was a kid, but they lost. It never occurred to me that they might try again.”

“Gnomes are persistent little things,” he mused. “They dislike losing, and they are quite stubborn. It stands to reason that they’d try again if you’d beaten them before.”

“What… what did you do?” Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “To the gnomes, I mean. Unless, of course, I’m misremembering, because there is every chance I am, what with the concussion I very likely have and all, so if I am just say the word, but it seemed pretty dang clear that-“

“I killed them,” he said bluntly. His face was bored, disinterested. Apathetic, even. It didn’t even seem to be bothering him. How could it not be bothering him? Unless…

Unless he’d killed before.

The human brain could get used to just about anything if given enough time.

“You- you killed them,” her voice was horrified, she knew. She could hear it in her tone. Yeah, she’d wanted to get away from them, she’d wanted them to leave her alone, and maybe she’d even wanted to give them a good whack, but she hadn’t wanted them dead.

“Of course I did,” he sounded surprised at her reaction. “They hurt you. They were going to hurt you far worse.”

“I know that,” she whispered. “I know that. But that doesn’t give you the right to just… you can’t be someone’s judge, jury, and executioner. That’s not right.”

“I only did it to save you, Mabel.” She had only heard Not-Dipper say her name once before.

It was different than when Dipper said it. Maybe it was because Not-Dipper’s voice was a little deeper, a little smoother-sounding?

“You weren’t safe. Not in your universe.” His eyes were burning, which was strange since they were the color of ice. “I can keep you safe. I will keep you safe.”

“Ummm… that’s cool and all, but that’s pretty freakin’ unsettling, to have somebody just, like. ‘Splode a bunch of gnomes for you,” she eyed him warily, still trying to figure out how to get away from the dude without crawling. Would he get angry with her for not being appreciative? She didn’t want to see him angry. Would he hurt her?

“I don’t want you to be scared of me,” he told her quietly, his voice a little sad.

She almost lied and told him she wasn’t scared of him, that everything was hunky-dorey, and that he should smile.

She didn’t.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have, I dunno, made people explode in front of me?” She was being sarcastic, she knew, and that was probably a bad idea, but sometimes she just couldn’t help herself.

“Gnomes aren’t people, technically,” he reminded her.

“Semantics,” she waved his argument away. “They’re living creatures. Or they were, anyway, before you decided to go and massacre them.”

Not-Dipper had a look on his face that suggested he wasn’t opposed to killing living creatures, whether they were human or not.

Maybe he already had.

Mabel hoped he hadn’t, but something in the way he held himself gave her a sneaking suspicion that he had.

“I’m sorry if that… bothers you, or if it scares you. I don’t want to make you feel those things,” he sighed. “That said, I think it’d be best if I were up front with you: if put in the same situation again -if you were in danger again, that is to say- I’d do the same thing.”

She crossed her arms, pursed her lips, and glared at him. “Take me home, please.”

There was panic in his eyes. “I- I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“The portal… it doesn’t work like that. I’ll have to find another way to get you back,” he explained. She was still glaring at him when he continued. “But for the time being, you can stay with me. If you want,” he turned his body to face her for the first time since he’d hugged her.

“Well. I suppose that’ll have to- WHAT ON EARTH IS THAT?” She was pointing, horrified, to his shoulder, where one arrow, perhaps about a foot long, was embedded in his shoulder. Another was in his side, the one that had been facing away from her. Blood had seeped through to pool around the entry wounds, though the bleeding seemed to have stopped. His eyes followed her shaking finger.

“Oh, right. I got shot with a couple of arrows. Just gnome ones, though, so they’re quite small,” she dropped her hand back to the soft fabric of the chaise.

“Okay, so you saved me, and you got hurt doing it,” she was saying this to herself, staring at her knees and speaking as if he couldn’t hear her when he could absolutely hear her. “Okay. Okay. This is fine, this is fine, Mabel girl.” She looked back up at him. “Okay, let’s go… wherever we need to go for you to treat those… yeah…”

“Very well,” he agreed. “I’ll take you there.”

He helped her to her feet, and she still found herself a bit dizzy, wobbling a bit.

“Would you like me to carry you?” he offered, steadying her with a hand on her arm.

“Carry m- say what now?”

“I don’t mind, particularly if you’re having difficulty walking still.” As if that explanation was adequate! Why was homeboy cool with it at all, though? She’d gotten a hella nasty gash on her leg once in PE, can ya guess how many people offered to freakin’ carry her to the nurse? Zero, is the answer. Zero.

What a weird dude. And Mabel was in love with her gay twin brother, so if she, of all people, thinks you’re weird, then you are weird.

“Nope!” she squeaked out way too quickly to sound even remotely close to being normal. “I’m good on the carrying front, thanks! Got it covered!”

“Suit yourself.” Ugh why, why was he smiling that smile again, it reminded her of Dipper and also not, and it made her nervous as all hell. “This way.” And with that, he promptly strolled out of his dressing room, clearly expecting her to follow.

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #gf fanfiction #pinecest #mabel pines #dipper gleeful #reverse dipper #reverse falls #fanfiction #my wriitng #Mabel’s all-in-one guide to being a shooting star #fucking hell RD is so hot

[iwillhaveamoonbase]

Love at First Bite

Rayla is taken by a client to eat at the Italian-Korean fusion place in town and falls in love with the food, and later, the chef.

-------------------------------------------------

Rayla smiled at her client as they waited for their server to come.  Her boss had told her that they had to keep the contract with the client’s company no matter what, and if that meant going to a Korean-Italian fusion restaurant that would probably be too spicy for Rayla’s Scottish, fried-food-loving taste buds, so be it.  The client, Ms. Danvers, had been hyping the restaurant up all evening.  “You said you like potatoes?  This place as amazing kimchi-style potatoes and potato pancakes.”

Rayla nodded.  “My grandmother is Irish and there are always potatoes cooking in her house.”  Rayla subtly looked around the dining room. The walls were mostly white with a few panels a beautiful red.  There was artwork on the walls, ranging from sceneries to portraits.  They all looked to be done by the same artist but Rayla couldn’t place a name to them.  The air was warm and smelled of spices and herbs and cheese.  Rayla could see a row of cheeses on one of the shelves.  “Do they use a lot of cheese here?”

“Korean food pairs wonderfully with cheese.  There’s a rumor that all the vegetables here are from the local farmer’s market as are most of the cheeses.  It’s fusion, but it’s as domestic as possible, too.”

“You’ve really been talking this place up.”

Ms. Danvers flushed.  “It’s my favorite restaurant.  I come here for lunch once a week and get take-away whenever I’m having a bad day.  This place is known for Korean-Italian fusion, but they make a delicious Thai laksa and a vegetarian Tom Yum that is to die for.”

“Really?”  Rayla didn’t know that much about Asian food, but she knew that Tom Yum was common in Thai eateries.

“The chef is a quarter-Thai and a quarter-Korean, his grandparents being from Thailand and South Korea.  He knows the flavors well and plays with them, but when he goes authentic, he’s the best in town.  He will also make almost any dish vegetarian if you request it.”

“How accommodating.”

A server came up, a smile on their face.  “Good evening and welcome to Sarai’s Place.  Any wine to start this evening?”  Rayla shook her head, surprised when Ms. Danvers asked for Thai iced tea for the both of them.  “And what can I get started for you?”

“Ms. Burrows?”

Rayla looked down at the menu again.  “Hmm.  I’m not sure what to get.  I don’t have a very high spice tolerance.”

The server nodded.  “Scale of 1 to 10?”

“Maybe a three.”

“Do you like kimchi?”

“Never had it.”

“Then I recommend trying the kimchi potatoes, if you like potatoes, or the risotto, which features chopped kimchi, sesame oil, and garlic.  The chef makes two kinds of kimchi, one mild and one spicy, so he’ll use the mild for you.  For the main dish, if you enjoy cheese, a pasta dish that has mussels, a Korean chili paste and tomato sauce, and fresh parmesan.  Everything that can be local, is local and if you eat vegetarian, the mussels will be taken out and instead you will get mushrooms.”

“My grandmother is Irish so I’m very snobbish with my potatoes.”

“I would rate his potato pancakes a ten.  He takes the traditional Korean recipe and adds parmesan cheese and some rosemary and its cooked with the house chili oil, so when you cut into it, it’s cheesy and subtly spicy.  The house chili oil is made with both gochugaru and the type of dried chilis usually used to make olio di peperocino.”

“I’ll go with the pancakes and the mussels pasta you suggested.”

“Excellent choice.  And for you?”

Ms. Danvers smiled.  “Did he make Tom Yum or laksa today?”

“Laksa.”

“I will take a bowl of laksa while Ms. Burrows is eating her pancakes and I will also take the mussels pasta.  Can we also get an order of garlic bread?”

“Of course.  I’ll get your Thai iced teas ready.  Anything else today?”

“What’s the dessert of the week?”

“Since it’s summer, mango pudding, Thai coconut pudding, and strawberry-lime cheesecake.”

“We’ll each take a slice of the strawberry-lime cheesecake.”  The server nodded and walked away after reading back the list.  “I hope you don’t mind me ordering dessert for you, but he only makes that cheesecake when the strawberries are in their peak season and it’s worth it.”

Rayla nodded.  “No problem, Ms. Danvers.  I wouldn’t really know what to order otherwise.”

They chatted while they waited, pausing when the garlic bread came to the table.  Rayla had been expecting the kind of garlic bread Americans seemed to adore, buttery and almost artificially garlic-y.  Instead, they got small, fresh loaves that had pieces of roasted garlic and thyme baked into it, served with the house chili oil and garlic that had been cooked until it spread like butter on the bread.  Rayla was impressed with the flavor and how the pieces of garlic were not overpowering.

When the potato pancakes came, Rayla could smell the spice but trusted the server had not led her astray, eyeing her glass of Thai iced tea just in case.  One bite and she was in heaven.  The cheese and the heat from the chili only enhanced the potato flavor as did the light smattering of soy sauce and vinegar-based sauce.  Rayla almost ignored Ms. Danvers when the pasta came, inhaling the dish.  At the end of the meal, once the excellent cheesecake had been finished, Rayla was in love with the food.  “Well, Ms. Danvers, I suppose I should be thanking you for introducing me to my new favorite restaurant.”

Ms. Danvers chuckled.  “It’s good, isn’t it?”

“I would marry the chef in a heartbeat if I got to eat like this every day for the rest of my life.”

-----------------------------

Rayla brought all her clients and her coworkers to Sarai’s Place in the following months.  She tried almost everything on the menu, though she was still mildly terrified of the spiciness of the laksa if the smell alone was anything to go by.  Every Monday and Thursday, she got take-away and ordered the dessert whenever she ate in on Saturdays.  She was thankful she was single or else she would have to come here every week with someone and she liked dining alone in the quiet restaurant.

Sometimes, they played classical music, other times K-pop, and Rayla would always remember the night they had played an opera medley when several people with the Katolis Opera Company had dined that night.  The chef seemed keenly aware of who came to his restaurants at what dates and times and played music to fit their tastes but also made sense with the theme.

It was a popular spot with not only Foodies and high school kids, but a lot of Asian-Americans dined there.  Rayla had looked up the reviews and had seen it was highly recommended by the Katolis Korean and Thai communities, the Katolis restaurant circles, and the Commission for the Promotion of Local Ingredients and Farmer’s Markets.  No one said anything bad about Sarai’s Place without at least ten people defending the restaurant’s choices.

And now Rayla was sitting with her boss, Ahling Patel, and having to stop herself from inhaling the food in front of her.  The risotto was so satisfying and paired with chicken breast stuffed with kimchi, perilla, and ricotta.  “What do you think, Mr. Ahling?”

“It’s delicious.  I’ve always felt that fusion was a gimmick, but I’m sold by this young man’s food.  Young lady,” Ahling called the server, smiling good-naturedly when she nodded at him and finished up with her current customer.  When she came up to their table, she greeted them again.  “Is there anyway we can speak to the chef?”

The server blinked before nodding.  “I’m sure I can arrange it.  Dinner service is almost over and there are only you and two other tables.  Can I bring you dessert while I’m talking to him?”

“What do you recommend?”

“Our pastry chef made yakgwa, which are little honey pastries made with pine nuts, ginger, and sesame oil and they also made a yuja polenta cake and a play on Italian lemon cake, but with yuja.”

Rayla ordered the yakgwa and Ahling got the polenta cake and waited for the news.  Rayla couldn’t recall having ever seen the chef even though she came there at least twice a week, closer to three.  She hadn’t seen any pictures of him, either, surprisingly enough.  He was said to keep to himself and shunned the limelight, which is why he never made TV appearances.

A few minutes later, it wasn’t their server, but a man who looked be about 26 arriving with their desserts.  His green eyes were striking, as were his cheekbones and sharp jawline.  He gave them both an awkward smile as Rayla noticed his ring finger was bare and didn’t seem to have a tan line.  Was this the chef?  His coat would seem to say so.  “Nice to meet you both.  I’m Callum Evans, the owner and executive chef here at Sarai’s Place.”

Ahling smiled.  “It’s nice to meet you, young man.  I’m Ahling Patel and this is my employee, Rayla Burrows.”  Rayla nodded her head in acknowledgement.  “Your food is delicious.  How on Earth do you even think of this?”

The young man flushed, looking down at his feet.  “Um, I’m not that special.  Many people before me found that Korean and Italian food go well together.  Most of my recipes are riffs on family recipes and all my Thai dishes are family recipes.  I was originally going to go traditional Korean or Thai but there were no fusion places in the area and I’m part Irish and German on top of being a quarter-Thai and a quarter-Korean.  It felt…right, I guess.  I’m mixed and grew up with a variety of food cultures in my house, so why not do fusion?  Korean and Italian just made the most sense, so…”  He looked embarrassed at the praise, rubbing the back of his neck.

Rayla leaned forward a bit.  “I’ve eaten here at least twice week for the past six months.  I can tell you, without a doubt, it’s my favorite place to eat.”

“Thank you.”

Ahling cleared his throat.  “Are you single, Mr. Evans?”

Callum flushed even deeper.  “Ah.  Yes.  Being a chef requires long hours and running a restraint requires even more.”

“You need a good partner to help you find balance in your life!”

Rayla remained quiet as she watched them talk.  The only thing going through her mind was ‘I’m going to marry this man for his food.  I’ll eat well for the rest of my life.’  She stayed when Ahling said good night and while the restaurant emptied out.  Callum stayed at the table, fidgeting under her gaze.  “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“A date.”

Callum blinked.  “We have a sticky rice made with dates-”

“No.  A romantic excursion.  An outing.”

He gulped, looking her up and down.  “A date?  Really?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I fell in love with your food almost immediately after I tasted it and would like the chance to know the man who cooks it.”

Callum blushed.  “OK.”  They exchanged info and Rayla smirked as she left with his number in her cellphone.  There was no way she would be letting this one go.

------------------------------------------

After four months of dating, Rayla could confidently say that she was now just as in love with Callum the man as she was with his cooking.  Learning that his restaurant was named after his mother who died when he was in high school had endeared him to her, as had the knowledge that all the art on the walls were his paintings.  Was there anything he couldn’t do?

They were currently in Callum’s kitchen, him developing a new recipe while Rayla took down notes for him.  Even on his days off, he was always thinking about what he would do next and Rayla admired his passion to his craft.  When he brought her up to try the dish, she groaned.  “I will marry this man if it’s the last thing I do,” she muttered.

“I can hear you, you know,” Callum chuckled.

Rayla raised a brow.  “Then why haven’t you accepted my proposal?”

“Because you proposed to my food?”

“I hardly see the difference.”  Callum laughed at her, shaking his head.  “Hey, move in with me.”

“We’ve been together for four months.”

“Is that a problem?  Too short?”

Callum stared at her.  “You’re serious.”

“I told you; I fully plan on marrying you to eat your cooking ‘til the day I die.”

“So, it’s my cooking you love?”

“When have I hidden this?”  Rayla reached for his hand, pulling him closer.  “I’m serious.  Move in with me.”

“Why?”

Rayla shrugged.  “I’m happy when we wake up next to each other.  I like the idea of coming home to you or you coming home to me.  I don’t like sleeping alone, and, for the past month, the two of us have been alternating sleeping at each other’s places and it doesn’t make sense to pay rent on two places when we could be happy together?”

“That and I’m the only person willing to put up with your stubborn ass.”

Rayla gave him a mock offended looking, giving his arm a playful smack.  “You love my stubborn ass.”

“I do.”  Callum leaned down and captured her lips, letting her taste the dish he had been working on for the past hour.  When they pulled apart, he looked down into her eyes with his bright green ones.  “I think I love you.”

“That’s good, because I think I love you, too.”

Rayla would take that for now.  And in two years, when she would be standing next to him in front of their new house, matching rings on their fingers, and a very pregnant belly, she would remind him that he had his food to thank for their relationship.  “I fell in love with your food first.”

“I’m glad you did, because you kept coming back.”

“Lucky you.”

“Lucky me.”        

#moonbase fanfics #rayllum #rayllum fanfic #the dragon prince #au #love at first bite #this was just for fun

[megastarstriker]

~{Unfortunate Events}~𝑨𝒛𝒊𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓  𝒙 𝑪𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒚 ---------------------------------------------- 𝓟𝓡𝓞𝓛𝓞𝓖𝓤𝓔 •·················•·················•

=====================================

“Faithful Encounters”

   Part Two

< previous

=================================

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: Aziraphale x reader x Crowley

𝙁𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙢: Good Omens

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩:??

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: She was just the new angel that day, only to be casted out on the spot, like a baby bird being thrown out of its nest to learn how to fly on its own against its will. She was an outcast and had no place or purpose there or even in the pits of fire. Now she finds herself reliving her traumatizing nightmare when she was child, as she counts the final days of the world’s demise as she plans ruining ‘The Lady Above’s Great Plan’.( I do not own Good Omens or its characters only the ones I create.)

𝑲𝒆𝒚𝒔 :

(Y/N) = Your Name

(S/C) = Skin Color

(B/T) = Body Type

(H/C) = Hair Color

(H/L) = Hair Length

(H/S) = Hair Style

(Y/A) = Your Accent

(F/C) = Favorite Clothing

=============================================================

TOM HIDDLESTON  as 𝘼𝙯𝙖𝙯𝙚𝙡

I walked down briskly as I looked at my watch.

“No way in hell that was Crowley”, I whispered to myself harshly hoping no one could hear me, as I walked through the crowded streets.

‘But then again he was literally from hell’ I thought with quite the reasoning but shook my head from those silly thoughts, and kept walking until I saw the Ritz.

‘Seriously what are the chances I was gonna meet Aziraphale as well’, I thought with a nervous chuckle,’ I’m pretty sure its very low and if it were to happen it will be from complete coincidence. Besides as far as I know, does not leave his bookshop on busy days and this day is no exception from that.’

I then opened the door to the Ritz and looked around to see if a spotted a certain friend of mine and surely enough from all of the people that were either talking, chattering , simply sitting in a calm fashion there was only one of the rest that had there arm raising as they waved excitedly at me in a likely childish way.

Almighty, I thought with a sigh as I walked towards the smiling lady at her table.

“Hey, (Y/N)”, she said in a cheery voice as she welcomed me.

“Hello, Elizabeth how are you doing?”, I asked a bit bored yet happy tone to see her.

“Good, well don’t just stand there have a seat!”, She said as she gestured to the seat across from her as I gladly made myself comfortable,” I’m so glad to see you didn’t keep me waiting like the last time.”

“Well, I was planning on doing it again, but I rather prefer this side of yours than the other as much as I hate to admit it.”, I replied with smirk as 

“You are such a meanie you know that”, She replied with playful expression as she slapped my hand lightly.

“Only when I want to, of course.”, I replied with a small chuckle as I fixed my seat,” So what was this ’Oh So important gossiping thing’ you had to tell me anyways, that you apparently dragged me here for.”

“Well, if you’re insisting then I guess I should tell you”, She replies,” Anyways..”

After we ordered our food and waited ,a whole 20 minutes passed of her telling me how her day was, she then started to ask me how was my day.

“Oh nothing really”, I said trying to keep my face neutral but failed as I lied.

“Oh Big Bullocks, tell me because from the looks of that face you’re making it seems you saw something interesting all right and I wanna know.”, She replied clearly not buying my lie for a minute.

“I sort of ran into a guy ,an old friend of mine, who I was very close friends with-”, I responded midsentence but was cut off by her to continue.

“You what?!”, She said her eyes wide as saucers with a excited grin as she misinterpreted what I just said,”(Y/N) do you know what this means, what you just said?”

“Um, sort of... I”, I responded in confusion as my eyes squinted at her slightly.

“You are in love!”, She said as she smiled widely and squealed like nails on a chalkboard.

Catching on to what she was saying I immediately declined.

“Oh no no its nothing like that, believe me your getting way ahead of yourself,” I responded in a bland expression as I tried to hide meekly blush appearing on my cheeks.

“Of course it is, you’re only making it more obvious by denying it you know”, She replied trying to pry out the information out of me.

“No there isn’t any love indication with him and I’m sure of it. I’m serious”, I replied trying to think of a way to change the subject.

I then spotted the food tray on our table.

“Oh wow would you look at that the food has arrived!”, I said in a cheerful tone as I thanked the waiter for bringing our food.

“Mark my words, (Y/N) (L/N) I will find out your secret, you so cravingly hide.”, She said as she pointed the spoon at me as she squinted her eyes at me.

“Speaking of cravings. Let’s eat.” I said suddenly successfully changing the subject.

After we finished eating and payed for our delicious food, we headed outside for a walk.

“So were would you like to go?”, I asked her as I walked beside her.

“Well there is this bookshop, I’ve been wanting to go to, maybe look at some books.”, She said thinking out loud as she paced through her mind,” It’s a few blocks away I believe if I’m correct.”

“Well, I’ll go if you go. Lead the way”, I said as I followed her 

It took us a few moments to get there but when we did reach the bookshop I couldn’t help but have the feeling I’ve seen this before.

“A.Z. Fell & Co. Bookshop”, I read as I looked at the sign, the store’s outward appearance was a bright red and had two signs one that said ‘OPEN’ and other had an Opening hours that was surprisingly and oddly long. It read:

Bookshop Opening Hours

"I open the shop on most weekdays about 9:30 AM. perhaps 10AM. While occasionally I open the shop as early as 8, I have been known not to open until 1. Except on Tuesday. I tend to close about 3:30 PM, or earlier if something needs tending to. However, I might occasionally keep the shop open until 8 or 9 at night, you never know when you might need some night reading. On days that I am not in, the shop will remain closed. On weekends, I will open the shop during normal hours unless I am elsewhere. Bank Mondays will be treated in the usual fashion, with early closing on Wednesdays, or sometimes Fridays.

(For Sundays see Tuesdays)

A. Z. Fell, Bookseller"

“Well from the looks of it it’s opened,” I said as I ignored the long opening hour sign in front of me as it was far too tiring to read,” After you.”

I opened the door for my friend while I followed behind her as the door closed causing a ‘ding’ of a bell to sound on the shop, alerting that someone had entered.

I awed in amazement as I saw the bountiful of books in the shelves, 

‘This place looked stunning, even more than my library at home’ I thought as I scanned the bookshelves that held many marvelous and classical books.

“Oh no! I have to leave”, I heard Elizabeth say in panic,  As she looked at her watch with wide eyes,” I’ll get fired if I don’t hurry, I’m sorry I couldn’t stay for long.”

“It’s Okay, besides we’ll meet some other time”, I said giving her a small smile.

“Thank You for understanding”, She said giving me a small smile of her own,” Well, I’m off. Bring me a book as well!”

Just like that, she left the shop leaving me and the peaceful silence to myself. I went back to scanning the room in the shop and the books.

I came across a bookshelf and started dragging my fingers across the books embroidered and well- defined spines. I came across one that read “To Kill a Mockingbird A Novel by Harper Lee.”

As I was about to take the precious book from the shelf I heard a clear cough from someone behind, causing me to flinch and startling me as I backed away causing my back to hit something as I felt it touch my shoulder very delicately but the. As I was about to take the precious book from the shelf  

“U-Umm Excuse me, sorry to inter-”, I heard a voice say behind me, after it cleared its throat awkwardly.

Startling me, I jumped and backed away causing my back to hit something as I felt it touch my shoulders very delicately but then disappear as I heard footsteps back away from behind me. 

“Oh Dear, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” The masculine voice said in a soft tone.

I then turned around quickly locking eyes with two bright and beautiful ocean ones. The man—I had now confirmed—seemed to fit right in with the rest of the shop. His clothes had a very vintage feel to them, and although it was highly unlikely, something in myself told me that they were all original. He was not terribly tall, but he wasn’t short, either. He had such a kind face, that was currently frowning in embarrassment. All of this was topped off by some extremely blond curls—so blond in fact that they may as well have been white. Although he would not be considered particularly handsome by most estimates, something about him was drawing me to him like bread to butter.  the person did had some gained weight on him that had stood out very adorably with his nifty pastel suit and brown shoes that perfectly matched his cute little white bow tie on his neck. There was this sense of peaceful aura circulating around in a radiating way when I was near him. There was no denying in my mind that this person looked oh so gorgeous and undoubtedly out of a masterpiece painting. Purity and dainty was marked and sculptured in his beauty like an angel with perfection. Exactly like an angel. No, He was an angel. It was Aziraphale without a doubt in mind.

“You just looked so happy and so focused, I just thought it would be rude and no good manner of mine to interrupt your concentration.”, He said as he looked down in a meek and shy manner a nervous smile planted on his plump rosy lips.

“U-Um no worries...its Okay”, I started to say in a stammer, as I felt my cheeks burn in embarrassment as I stared at him. ’Why am I stammering’ I thought in my head as I have never had occurred to have done this before.

“Oh really, well that’s good to hear, Crowley said that I had a tendency of sneaking up on people.”, Aziraphale said a hint of relief in his voice and with heart-warming smile along with chuckle.

I laughed as well feeling my heart skipped a beat and beating out of my chest repeatedly as if the sound I just heard was the most perfect sound ever created. ’Seriously what’s going on with me’ I thought in my mind thinking I was probably sick or coming down with something

“Good Heaven’s, where are my manners? I’m Aziraphale and the current owner of this shop. And you are miss...?”, He said as he held out his hand in a welcome fashion

“Mrs. (L/N), but my friends call me (Y/N) and its an honor to be standing in your bookshop”, I replied as I shook his warm hand gently in mine. 

“Oh, Thank You and its great to meet your acquaintance...”, He said with a happy grin on his face as he shook my hand happily.

“Have you come to purchase a book here by any chance.”, He asked as he let go of my hand and put both of them behind his back, his face changing in a neutral expression,” Because if you were so happened to be here for that matter, I’m afraid it’s closed.”

“Well, I- Um, had a friend who so happened that wanted to come here, but she left moments ago and I’m afraid she won’t come later,” I explained in a nice manner,” We were planning on looking about around your shop and see what books you had in here, and maybe buy one not completely sure. You see this is our first time at your bookshop. The sign outside said it was “OPEN” if I remembered.”

“Oh I must of forgotten to turn the sign at the door! I can be really so forgetful at times,” Aziraphale said in realization with a hint of horror, then his face was wearing a small smile that was adorned prettily with his rosy cheeks as he rambled with excitement, ”Well then, my dearest of welcome to you and U-Um you are free to look around the shelves in the shop and pick your book, you can also come to me if you have any trouble if you’d like or need any assistance in picking one, of course there’s that one-- Oh goodness me ”

“Well now that you mention it, I actually don’t even know what book to look for, I hope it wouldn’t be a bother if I could ask for some help from you, Aziraphale?”, I replied as I smiled slightly at him saying his name in a soft tone.

He looked at me with those captivating eyes of his and hastily replied, ”N-no it wouldn’t be at all, on the contrary I actually enjoy helping people and its my job, especially with finding a good book to read. I like reading myself, you see and in terms of working here I pretty much know all of these books from top to bottom. You never know when someone needs a good night reading or any literature for that matter. ”

“Wow you mean, you work here all by yourself and do everything around here.” I said in complete amazement as I looked at this person with utter most respect as I followed him at his side.

“Y-yes I do in fact, but its never a bother for me ,really. It keeps me more motivated to do things around and it keeps me busy, despite how hard it is. It does get quite lonely here, but the silence hear is lovely and perfect for reading-- I’m rambling again aren’t I? ”

“Oh its okay ramble away if you have to, its quite entertaining. You weren’t joking about the shop being quiet though,” I said as I let out a joyful chuckle, trailing behind him.

“You are too nice and yes it is quiet indeed”, He agreed as he laughed along, he then went and carried a big stack of books towards, ”I’ll be back, once I’m done organizing these over on that shelf”

The books looked pretty heavy and there where piled no more higher than him and it worried me that it was going to fall as it wiggled and the carrier holding the mount of books was having a lot of trouble.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help with that?”, I asked with concern as I watched him trying to look were he was going by peeking slightly at the front of the pile of assorted books.

“Uh No no need, Dear. Just having a bit of trouble carrying them that’s all, they are quite heavy.”, He said with a bashful chuckle as he kept walking towards a hallway his lips forming sounds of struggle.

Not buying a bit of his excuse, I decided to take it upon myself to follow him and as I stood in front of his view, grabbed half of the stacks that were above the pile as many as I could until I had the same amount of books in Aziraphale’s hands. Startled and now being able to see clearly as there were no more little than 7 or 6 books in his hands, he looked at me shocked and with softness in his eyes.

“You do know it’s okay, to ask for help, Right?”, I said with a smile, as I carried the pile of books in my hands.

“O-of course ....Thank You”, He said as he looked at me with slightly wide eyes in pure shock, a hint of shyness in his voice.

“Your welcome”, I replied with a small grin.

A few hours passed as I helped Aziraphale with sorting his books on the shelves, and he talked about many things and books as well as I did, the only sound in the shop was the clock ticking by. But as we did there was something that has been bothering me since we first talked. ‘Why didn’t he remember’, I thought with worry.

‘It has been many years since I’ve seen him so maybe it wouldn’t have really jogged his memory for me to appear, but then again I did kind of expected him to at least remember me’ I thought quite angrily yet understanding as I thought of  the angel,’ Couldn’t really blame him though with upstairs and all of that involved it wouldn’t surprise me for him to forget me, too many years of paperwork I guess. Shouldn’t that be a good thing though? I mean for all I know as much as an angel of a principality he is and may seem he could be working with heaven to execute me and he is danger to me if it does seem that way.

 “Well, now that the books are in there proper places”, Aziraphale said as he looked at the books he had just stocked with glee,” I’m ready to help you with finding the perfect book for you. So what do you like to read in your spare time?”

“Mostly about Paris or anything really that captures my attention, but to save your time after sorting all those books with me...,” I said as I paused for a moment to look at the bookshelf and analyzing each book, then later spotting one that caught my curious eye,” Aha! This one.”

I took it out and the embellished cover read, “Faust by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.” 

“Hmm its seems like a good read and exactly what I’m looking for”, I said as I pondered, looking at it for a moment,” Is it okay if I just borrow it?”

“I can tell and know how much these books mean to you, and besides I already have a library of my own at home. I do keep promises, when I say that I will return it as soon as I have finished it.”, I added knowing fully well why he seemed hesitant to reply to my question on borrowing the book.

“Well you did help and I appreciate it a bunch. As a matter a fact you can keep it,” He said almost a bit hesitant, but nonetheless very kindly and with a small smile, ”As a gift for helping me and all.”

“I couldn’t, I only helped because I wanted to not for something in return. I really can’t accept this”, I replied as I stubbornly declined his generous and absolutely kind offering.

“It’s a gift between friends”, He said softly as he looked at me,” I enjoyed your company very much, and It would make me very happy if you would accept it. I have an extra copy of that same book anyways”

Geez he really is an angel. He really lives the name up to its potential and meaning.

“Okay, but I’ll only accept it if you agree to let me help you around if you need any.”, I said as I held the book tightly in my hand,” and to let me come to your shop every once in a while. If you’ll let me that is?.”

“Since you insist, Of course and you are welcome to my shop whenever you can.”, He said in a friendly manner as he kept that smile on his face.

“Is it okay if I can read it in here for a while?”, I asked him half-wishing and half-hoping he would say yes,” That’s if you are fine with it.”

“There isn’t that many customers coming in today and I was about to sit down and catch up on my daily reading as well. Of course you can stay”, He responded with a glowing and beaming grin as he went to put on his reading glasses that looked very good on him.

“Thank You,” I said as my heart beat in excitement and with happiness mixed together.

“No need for that, I actually enjoy your company very much,” He responded waving off my “thanks”,” I’m afraid, its not every day you get to enjoy a nice book with someone else who likes them as much as I do. Glad to see, that I could share it with you.”

 “Would you like some tea?”, He asked me as he carried a tray with two cups.

“Oh yes. Thank you very much,” I replied as I took the cup he had placed in the small table in front of me.

I then remembered something important that I had to do today and quickly declined as I made up an excuse.

“Um, now that you mention it I can’t stay...”, I replied in a hurry as I rambled in explanation with embarrassment,” I had this thing going on  that I left at home and should be waiting for me ...”

“Oh really?”, He said in a surprised tone at my sudden outburst.

“Yes and I better get going, so have a nice and wonderful day.”, I said as I hurried for the door outside, before the man outside could open it. As I heard Aziraphale say ‘Come Again!’ behind me. I replied with a “Will do!” as the door to the shop closed swiftly behind me. Feeling blue and guilt for the angel I so much adored for not staying, as I thought of a way to repay him. I  sat down on a abandoned bench with no people walking in plain sight. I then grabbed my “Divine Comedy” book I had in my coat and looking sideways I mentally miracled some sticky note out of thin air with a pen and with my best calligraphy writing, I wrote:

“𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓐𝔃𝓲𝓻𝓪𝓹𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓮,

𝐼'𝓂 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓇𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝒻𝒻 𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝐼 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝒹𝒾𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓇 𝑜𝒻𝒻𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓌𝒶𝓎. 𝐼 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝑒𝓃𝒿𝑜𝓎𝑒𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝓉𝑜𝑜 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶 𝓌𝑜𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝓂𝒾𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝑒𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝓎 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝓎 𝐼 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝓊𝓅 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝒷𝓎 𝑔𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓁𝓊𝓃𝒸𝒽 𝓉𝑜𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓇𝑜𝓌  𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓅𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓈𝑒, 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝒹 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒻𝓇𝑒

𝐿𝑒𝓉'𝓈 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽 𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃

𝒲𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝐵𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈,

               (𝒴/𝒩) (𝐿/𝒩)

𝓟.𝓢. 𝐼 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒾𝒸𝑒𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝒾𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒾𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓅. 𝐻𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔!”

I then put the cap on the pen and laid it down beside me. Taking out the written sticky note, I paste it on the front of the book’s cover and  miracled it to the shop with a snap of my fingers. I then grabbed the pen and sticky note box as I placed them neatly in the pockets of my coats. Whistling a tune, I couldn’t ignore the growing happy grin on my face, as my heart grew wings and did a happy dance as I would if I was alone and not in the public streets.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

{Nighttime}

I walked in a brisk pace as my feet hit the pavement on the ground as I made my long walk, As I approached my home and opened it. I then closed it and just when I did, I saw a silhouette of a man sitting in my chair in the moonlight as everything surrounding him was painted dark and pitch black.

“Home sweet Home”, The demon, Azazel said in a bored and mysterious tone as he looked at me with his piercing eyes, with a glint of curiosity behind it,”(Y/N)”

“What are you doing in my home?!” I asked startled and angry as I grabbed the vase next to me,” How many more times do I have to tell you to leave me alone before I resort to violence.”

“No hello? How nice of you. Well then, all greetings aside,” The demon said as it  approached quietly with each footstep, only to see  clearly as it stood in the light’s view, the demon looked and dressed decently in his black coat that he wore with his tie, hands clasped together behind his back and long black hair slicked back as he looked at me with a bored face,” I’m here to talk about business. I believe you know what I’m talking about.”

As I heard a thunder clap from outside, the pitter-pattering of rain resounding outside as it fell, covering the windows like a cascade or waterfall, I looked at the man in front of me with fury and disgust.

“Yes quite frankly, and no I’m not joining your side if that’s what you are offering. Neither you or them for that matter”, I said in irritation as I looked at the demon with a glare as I tried my best to be polite in the most hateful way as I pointed up and down to signify ‘Heaven and Hell’, I then pointed towards the door that leads to the outside,” There is the door, so you can show yourself off now.”

“Yes I know and I’m afraid, I won’t be doing that.”, He said with a dead and irritated tone obviously not bothered by my way of speaking,” I didn’t came here for that, I came because my Highness has sent a message for you.”

He then took something from his pocket and there was a letter with the name “Lucifer” burnt and imprinted on the front of the envelope with seal symbol of a pentagram.

“I don’t want his bribing or anything from him. I’m not some product or weapon to be bought with or to mess around ”, I said in a stern strict voice not wanting anything to with the demon or his poor excuse of his so called Highness, Lucifer, as I kept a confident posture, and not taking the envelope or so as to touch it whatsoever from his hands.

“It is not my place to say this, but the sooner you cut this weak and rubbish act of bravery and join our side, the easier it is for the both of us and this war,” He responded as he put the letter on the table,” In the end you don’t really have much of a choice, anyways.”

“What the hell are you talking about?!”, I asked in anger and irritation in my voice as I stood still in my spot in front of him somehow confused with what he said.

He then walked past me towards the door rudely, and not answering my question as he turn the doorknob and left not caring for the rain that pouring down from the star covered night sky, I followed after him in frustration as I yelled at him,” Answer me!”

“Oh I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise of the ‘Great Plan’, you’ll soon see yourself,” He responded as he stopped dead in his tracks, his back turned and facing me as drops of rain covered his body. He then turned his head towards me and said the sentence that I feared the most with a devilish-eating grin,” After All,......”

“𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐸𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓈 𝒩𝒾𝑔𝒽”

=======================================================

{So what did you guys think?

I made Tom Hiddleston as my character Azazel because he fit the characteristics pretty well as he did for Loki. 

I hope you liked it 

and stay tuned for the next chapter}

#aziraphale x reader #aziraphale #crowley x reader #good omens crowley x reader #good omens #michael sheen #david tennant #tom hiddleston

[flowerfan2]

One Night in Milwaukee - Ch. 5

I’m considering changing the title to “One Night in Milwaukee (and a week in Florida)...”  Enjoy and please reblog!

David x Patrick, 15k so far, A03

Chapter 5

David takes his time showering and doing his hair.  He had thought that his run would center him, but all it took was one quick conversation with Patrick to knock him off balance.  

He wishes he could put his own clothes back on, but since everything he brought with him is either in the wash or soaked in sweat, it’s not an option.  Tying a towel around his waist, he goes into the bedroom and looks through Patrick’s suitcase.  He allows himself a satisfying eye roll at the contents – the expected button-downs in shades of blue and green, jeans that probably won’t even fit David, and a few plain t-shirts and pairs of khaki shorts.  David sighs and selects briefs, shorts, and an olive green t-shirt, a nondescript fashion choice that would make his mother weep.  At least he’ll only have to wear them for an hour or so until his own clothes come out of the dryer.

He finds Patrick in the kitchen, hovering next to the island.

“I made eggs,” Patrick says, sliding a plate towards him.

“Thanks.”  The eggs are just like David likes them, with a sprinkle of salt and pepper, and a piece of toast on the side.  David recognizes the wheat bread he bought yesterday on his trip to the grocery store, somewhat bland but decent enough given the heaping of butter Patrick has spread on it.

They eat in silence for a few minutes, until the stress of it is too much for David to take.

“These are good.”

“It’s just scrambled, we didn’t have any cheese-”

“I can go to the store again, I didn’t know what you’d want-”

“You don’t have to do that,” Patrick says.  “You didn’t have to go in the first place.”

“So I shouldn’t have?”

“No, no, it was great that you did…” Patrick catches David’s gaze, and they both sigh.  “Why is this so awkward?” Patrick asks, taking their now empty plates and putting them in the sink.

“I don’t know, maybe because it’s been a long time, and things are different, and we both want everything to work out?  But there’s no guarantee.” David stands up and waves his hands at the neat little kitchen and the safe tan sofa with its blue and white pillows and the “Home Sweet Home” sign on the wall with an outline of the state of Florida.  He’s not sure he’s ever felt so out of place.  “And this is not somewhere I ever expected to be, and I really don’t know what to do with it.”

Patrick nods, that sadness coming over his face again, and it makes David want to strangle someone.  Not Patrick, never Patrick.  But whoever was responsible for taking his good, decent button and making him sad.

<i>It was you, you asshole,</i> his unhelpful brain tells him, and isn’t that just the worst.

“Want to see the pool?” Patrick asks, and although David can see it perfectly well from here, he figures it can’t hurt.  At least the screens will keep the alligators away.

They go outside, and the warmth of the sunshine surprises David. It’s gotten hotter even in the past hour since he was outside.  It may be late November, but this part of the world hasn’t gotten the message.  He wanders over to the pool and dips his toes in, then sits down by the steps in the shallow end and puts his feet in the water.

Patrick comes over and lowers himself to the concrete, David reaching out automatically to give him something to brace himself against.  When Patrick starts to put his feet in David stops him with a hand to his ankle, carefully rolling up one leg of his jeans and then the other.  David’s knuckles brush against the wiry hairs on Patrick’s leg as he neatly cuffs each pant leg.  He wants to roll Patrick’s shirt sleeves up, too, reveal more of his lovely forearms, but it seems a step too far.

“Thanks.”

“Wet jeans are an abomination,” David comments.

“Kind of like you wearing my khaki shorts?”  Patrick’s mouth quirks up in an attempt at a smile, and David’s heart lifts.

“Nice.  Just a few minutes again you said I looked good.”

The hint of a smile disappears, as David’s words fail to land the way he meant.  “I’m sorry, David, am I supposed to apologize for that?  I don’t understand why it upset you.  You do look good.  Clearly you’ve been working out – aren’t you allowed to be pleased with the outcome?”

David squeezes his eyes closed and leans his head back.  “Yes?  But…” He’s not sure how to explain it.  “It’s not about vanity, or, appearance.  I know that probably sounds fake, coming from me,” he opens his eyes and looks at Patrick, who is gazing back as patient and open as ever, “but it’s true.”

“Okay,” Patrick says, clearly waiting for David to fill in the blanks.  David had hoped a discussion about this particular part of his recent history could have been put off, possibly indefinitely, but it’s feeling like one of those moments when he’ll regret it if he brushes it off again.  And maybe opening up will get Patrick to do the same.

“I was pretty depressed, after we broke up,” David says, running the tips of his fingers through the water, watching the ripples spread across the surface of the pool.  “Couldn’t get out of bed, lost interest in everything… you know how it goes.”  He’s not sure Patrick does, but he can’t help but try to make light of it, as awful as it was.  It’s hard to really focus on those months, the drag of gray haze that wouldn’t clear.  “Eventually I started seeing a therapist.”

“You mentioned that,” Patrick says, and David relaxes a fraction, because he had forgotten.  Maybe this won’t be that hard, then.  It hasn’t chased Patrick away yet.  

“Right.  Well, he recommended a bunch of stuff to try, including exercising regularly, and I resisted at first-”

“Obviously,” Patrick says.

David glares up at Patrick, who’s got his best trolling face on, deliciously familiar, and suddenly spilling his guts doesn’t seem so embarrassing anymore.  “Anyway, once I started, it wasn’t so bad.  Despite what I once told you about running… it worked for me.”  That and laying off the alcohol.

“That’s great, David.”

“Well, Alexis says I just replaced one obsession with another.”

“Is that so bad, when it’s a healthy one?”

“You didn’t have to put up with me when I couldn’t go out for a run because of crappy weather, or inconveniently scheduled vendor meetings.”

There’s a hitch in the rhythm of their banter, and Patrick takes David’s hand in his.  “I wish I did.  I wish I was there.”

David feels his chest tighten, and he gives Patrick’s hand a squeeze.  “Me too.”

They sit there with their feet in the water, like little kids in a backyard wading pool.  There’s no breeze to speak of, but it’s not completely quiet.  The sound of the highway a few streets away provides a bit of background noise, and a weird bird keeps making a strangled chirpy sound from a hedge on the side of the house.  

David’s past encounters with Florida involved multi-million-dollar yachts, tanned supermodels, and free-flowing booze and drugs, not this strange version of suburbia.  He imagines this house sitting empty for most of the year, waiting for its owners to come and visit.  How many of the cookie cutter three-bedrooms in this neighborhood are empty right now?  How many swimming pools are noticed only by the staff who come by weekly to clean them and make sure nothing has crawled into the filters and died?

“This water’s probably terrible for your skin,” David says, and Patrick looks at him in mild confusion.  “Because of all the chemicals.”  

Patrick shrugs.  “I guess.”

“There are chemicals in here, right?”

“I don’t know, which would upset you more – the amount of chlorine dumped in here or the water being left in its natural state?”

David pulls his feet out of the water and stretches his legs to the side, the concrete warm on his heels.   “I’m honestly not sure.  But maybe we shouldn’t take any chances.”

Patrick stands up, leaning hard on David’s shoulder as he goes.  “Wait here.  I’ll be right back.”

David stays put, although now that he’s thinking about what might be in the pool water he wouldn’t mind rinsing off and applying some lotion.  Or some hand sanitizer.

Patrick comes back out of the house with an armload of cushions and drops them onto the lounge chairs by the other end of the pool.  “Come help me set these up.”

It only takes a moment to unfold the brightly patterned cushions and tie them into place (ah, there’s the Hawaiian floral, David thinks to himself).  While David is arranging the loungers to his liking, facing the sun, Patrick comes back with two bottles of water.  David twists off the top and rinses his feet while Patrick squawks at him.

“What?  Was that not what this was for?”  He tries not to smile.

“David.  That water was to drink.  There’s an outdoor shower over there.”  Patrick points to the side of the house, then seems to regret his decision.  “But don’t walk out there without shoes, okay?”

“What, will the baby alligators nip at my toes?”

Patrick grins at him.  “No, but the fire ants will.”

“What the hell kind of place is this?”

“It’s just nature, David.  As long as you wear shoes in the grass, you’ll be fine.”

“I feel like the state of Florida must have had some really good marketing professionals along the way.  Alexis should get a job with them.  They’ve managed to convince people that this pest-ridden swampland is worth something.”

“Arguably that is kind of what happened.  You know Disney World was built on reclaimed swampland, right?”

“I did not know that.”

“Anyway, this neighborhood isn’t all there is.  Give me another day to rest up, then I’ll show you around.”

Another day to rest isn’t really going to cut it, David thinks, watching Patrick wince as he eases himself down in the chair.  He wonders again what Patrick had in mind when he made his escape to the sunshine state, which brings them right back to the conversation Patrick keeps avoiding.

“Patrick, how long, exactly, are you planning on staying here?”  David asks, hoping that the direct approach might actually get him an answer.

Patrick stares up at the sky.  “I don’t know.”

Patrick’s hair looks like polished copper in the sunlight, but David tries not to let it distract him.  “How much time can you take off from work?” David presses.  “Or are you working remotely doing… whatever you are doing now?”

Patrick takes a long gulp from his water bottle, then stares at his feet.  “I’m unemployed.  I lost my job about a month ago,” he says bitterly.

“Oh.”  David is surprised, to say the least, especially by Patrick’s tone.  He’s always seemed like he would be the ideal employee, eager to please and determinedly hardworking.  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah.  Well, after you piss off a major customer, it’s hard to convince your employer to retain you.”

“It can’t have been that bad.  I don’t think I can imagine you pissing off a customer.”

“It was, and I did.”

“What on earth did you do?”

“Do you really want to know?”

David sits up and squints at Patrick, no longer enjoying the sun on his face. He doesn’t even have sunglasses with him, a major miscalculation. “Yes, of course.”

Patrick leans back and closes his eyes.  “I was working as an account manager at a software company.  It was boring as hell.  Sales, mostly, skating by with just enough technical knowledge about the product to capture the customer’s interest, and then serving as the liaison between the customer and the tech guys who actually knew what they were doing.  But I kept screwing things up, and when the customers would want to know why the contract didn’t have the terms they wanted, or why I was taking so long to get back to them, I just didn’t have the patience to deal with it.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

Patrick opens his eyes and looks at David, and he looks almost as bewildered as David is.  “No, it doesn’t, does it?”

David has the feeling there’s more to this story, but Patrick doesn’t elaborate, and all David really wants to do is give him a hug.

“You know, I have a feeling you don’t have an ounce of sunscreen on.  You’re going to be bright red if we stay out here any longer.”  David stands up and holds out a hand to Patrick, then slides his arm around his back to pull him up.  When they’re both upright, he loops his arms around Patrick’s neck and pulls him close.

Patrick presses his face against David’s neck.  “I’m a mess, David,” he says, his breath hot on David’s skin.  “I don’t know what happened to me.”

“I think we’ve both been a little lost,” David says, holding Patrick tight.  “But I know what will fix it.”

“Yeah?”  There’s an almost pathetically hopeful note in Patrick’s voice.

“Absolutely.”

“What?”

“Running.  Miles of it.  Every day.  It’s a miracle drug.”  David is struggling to keep up his serious tone, and not quite succeeding.

Patrick chokes out a laugh, pressing a hand against his ribs.  “I don’t think I’m quite up for running yet.”

“Well fine, then, you’ll just have to watch me do it.  It’s almost as good.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Patrick says, and kisses David soundly.  David hesitates for a second and then enthusiastically participates, and they are both breathing heavily by the time they pull apart.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what brought that on?” David asks as they go inside, the shade welcome after the bright sunshine.  He keeps a hand on Patrick as they go, not so much to make sure he doesn’t fall over but because he doesn’t want to lose this connection, now that he’s found it again.

Patrick takes hold of David’s waist, his eyes on David’s brighter than they’ve looked in days.  “You.  I thought I was dreaming, sometimes, remembering how much I liked you – loved you, too, but just fucking liked you.  But I wasn’t.”

“I’m the best,” David says, half-joking, but there’s a familiar happiness bursting inside his chest.

“You are, David.  You really are.”

#Schitt's Creek #Schitt's Creek fic #David Rose #Patrick Brewer #David x Patrick #tw: brief discussion of depression

[luizrodrigues91]

Gastronomical Adventure - Sensory Evaluation

Butter Chicken

Hey everyone, today I want to share with you one of my gastronomical adventures. By now, you are probably aware of my love for food. What you are not probably aware is that I also like interacting with people from different countries and learning about their culture (specially about their food).

When I decided to move to Canada, one of my first requirements was to find the most multicultural city to live in. After some research, Toronto was on top of my list. Since I got here I had the opportunity to experience a variety of dishes from all over the world. I usually say that Toronto is a mini version of the world because you can find literally everything in here. Of course, I would love to travel the world and experiment the different cultures first hand but, as a student with a limited budget, I can not do it now but maybe one day. However, I am pretty happy to live in a multicultural country that introduced me to such diversity. I have already tried a variety of food from many ethnicities like Canadian, Mexican, Korean, Turkish, Bulgaria, Greek, Venezuelan, Chinese, Filipino, Jamaica, and Japanese. Honestly, there is a lot of good stuff for each of these cuisines and I always get amazed by its peculiarities and different flavours.

Today I am going to share my first experience trying an interesting dish, from I country I didn’t know much about when I was living in Brazil: India. I confess that I was hesitant to try this dish because I had heard that Indian dishes are very spicy and my level of tolerance is very low. So you can imagine how I was feeling about trying an Indian dish. Anyways, my roommate just loves ‘Butter Chicken’ which is a famous Indian dish and he always offers it to me. Last weekend I decided to be brave and give it a try.

First, to give you a bit of context, Butter Chicken is an Indian dish that was created in Delhi, India. This dish has the very traditional Indian spice Curry. The dish is made with tandoori chicken cooked in butter and tomato sauce and It is very creamy. You can find butter chicken served in different ways, like as a filling in wraps, rotis, rolls, pies, etc. Also, you can simply have it with rice or bread on the side. The one that I tried was with bread. My roommate and I ordered the Butter Chicken from his favourite restaurant in Toronto. When the food was delivered I noticed the peculiar and strong smell of curry and its aroma was everywhere in the house. My roommate first enlightened me on the way that this dish is usually consumed and we dig right into it. My first impressions are that butter chicken is very flavourful and you can taste the seasoned cream and the moist chicken that melts in your mouth. It's a salty dish full of seasoning and herbs. It has a brownish colour and yes! It is spicy; The bread gave a great contrast though and I loved the bread with the creamy sauce. The bread was naan, which looks like a tortilla and the taste is delicious with some garlic flavour. For some reason, this dish reminded me of the ‘Chicken Stroganoff’ dish that I usually do but without the rich combination of spices. By the way, I got a low spicy version of it, however, even the low spicy was too much for me and obviously, I could not finish the whole dish but it was a great experience. If it would have been less spicy, I would have eaten it all.

With that being said, I want to encourage you to try something new even though it is something you think you won’t like. You are just going to know if you like it or not just by try it. Furthermore, you can find yourself falling in love with a new dish. I love that I allowed myself to try the Butter Chicken and share a good time with my roommate. He loved that I tried something from his country. This was awesome! As I always say “food is connection; it is expression of love”. Definitely, I want to have it again but now I know that I have to ask for a mild one!.

Picture reference: https://www.wellplated.com/slow-cooker-butter-chicken/

[sunneinsplendor]

Chef Jeff Bread Pudding

Yes, I  took the time to recreate the bread pudding Jeff Blim’s chef character in 911 was making when he got impaled by an exploding whip cream canister, what’re you doing with your degree in quarantine? :p

All seriousness this was fun and I enjoyed doing it, so here’s 

a) a recipe for my best approximation of Chef Maurice Malone’s bourbon bread pudding with as many photos as I could do. 

b) some bonus features that you can add to this recipe that will make it better. I’m not telling a character that spent a minute and some change doing his best before being a table prop how to do his job.....except that I am. Sorry, but bourbon alone doesn’t make a winning dessert, fight me, Jeff chef.

c) a sidenote: I’m not using one of those nitro whip containers. They’ve literally killed people and you’ll never see one in my kitchen. Seriously. The death narrowly avoided in this episode happened to someone in 2017. Don’t use those fucking canisters. 

everything recipe-wise under the cut. It’s gonna be long.

OKAY. WELCOME to cooking in the fanbase!

First thing: Wash your hands. Not pictured but I’m sure with the pandemic we all know how to wash our damn hands.

Second thing: Gather our ingredients.

You will need:  Nutmeg, cinnamon, half and half, vanilla, two eggs, white and brown sugar, a loaf of bread that’s preferably a little stale, and bourbon. All the bourbon. 

his is for enough bread pudding to fill the containers shown, which are two little ramekins and one medium sized one. If you have no ramekins, congratulations, you made it this far in life without them! A muffin tin will work fine but won’t look the same. Cuz they’re bread pudding muffins now. Don’t worry about it, it’s gonna taste GREAT. 

Third thing: Making the batter. 

1 cup of half and half. You can sub out alternate milks for this probably but since I’m recreating a recipe done by a fake chef on a fake cooking show I’m assuming he’s going for gold here and making the richest dessert he can get away with. So. Dairy. Pour that in the bowl. Add 1/4 cup sugar, 1/4 tsp cinnamon, 1/8 tsp nutmeg. whisk all that together until the cinnamon stops being unsocial and actually combines with the milk. Add the two eggs, 1 tsp vanilla, and about 1 Tablespoon of bourbon. You can add more bourbon. Its ok, no one’s judging, but too much is gonna screw with the ratios so adjust if you need to for your intake, perhaps less vanilla?

Fourth thing: Bread.

Again, pretty sure you can adjust this for gluten free etc by switching out bread etc, but recreating Jeff Chef, so full-flour bread from wherever you wanna get stuff from. Any bread will do, lord knows most of us have decided to make bread at least once during this pandemic, so use that if you have it. I’m using about three fat slices, like so:

cut off loaf. Watch your fingers and use a serrated knife, you’ll get cleaner cuts and not want to tear your hair out with the loaf being squished or tearing or whatever.

Cube up. Repeat at least 2 more times. squish all that bread into all that battery goodness. Cover in plastic wrap after making sure all of it’s gotten a good soak in the batter, let it do it’s thing for a half hour at the shortest. 

BONUS FEATURES: If you want to add extra stuff to it like berries or whatever you can do that when we squish it all in the ramekins or muffin tins or what we choose to use. What I’m adding to mine is my favorite, and I feel like Chef Jeff would approve. SO. What you need is about a handful of dried cherries, some orange zest and about a shot glass full of bourbon.

Oh yeah. That’s the stuff. 

So what you’re gonna do with that is slow simmer it for about 5-10 minutes til most of the bourbon has been either cooked off or absorbed into those sexy little cherries. Put it to one side in a cup or something when it gets there, we need that pan back cuz we’re making bourbon caramel sauce.

Yeah buddy. 

Fifth thing: Caramel. Smallish caramel batch is gonna be: 1/2 cup white sugar. 2 Tablespoons of brown sugar. I’m using dark but it doesn’t matter much, I just like the molasses content of the dark more. Also we’re using a tablespoon of water. Yes the water is important. Sugar scorches if you glance at it wrong and the little bit of water makes it less likely to do the thing. So. Medium high heat to start, then a nice middle heat once everything starts cooking together. DO NOT LEAVE THIS ALONE FOR A SECOND. DON’T DO IT. DO NOT. Sugar is the most persnickety motherfucker to ever motherfuck and it will go from a gorgeous caramel to the thing that the fire alarm is gonna tell everyone you fucked up SO FAST. This shit gets WATCHED. GOT IT? Good. 

So when it looks like this (let’s say 15 minutes in? Something like that, you’ll know when it hits this color) you take it off the heat and stir in 1/2 cup of whipping cream that’s at room temperature. Yes that’s important. The colder the whipping cream is the more it’s gonna steam when it hits that molten lava we’ve just been coddling on the stove and it will burn the absolute fuck out of your hands. Room temp. Save your hands. Trust me. Stir fast but pour slow, it’s ok to have to add this in intervals. Return the pan to a really low heat and keep stirring until the inevitable sugar blobs have turned back into a smooth, pretty caramel.

Should stick to the back of a cold spoon like this. Add about a shot glass of bourbon to it and stir some more. The steam is gonna slap you in the face with alcohol flavor but don’t worry, most of it’s gonna cook off. Once all that’s mixed in, take it off the heat, let it hang out on the stove, it’s done for the moment. 

BACK TO THE BREAD PUDDING! 

Sixth thing: Put the bread pudding stuff in your containers for bread pudding!  Protip: Butter the insides. If you HAVE to use pan spray that’s fine but butter is better. Ghee or something similar will also be fine but I’m french chef trained and will go to my grave telling you to use fucking butter.

look how cute they are! The little guys are straight Chef Jeff ones but the big one is the Bonus Content one, that’s where our simmered cherries and orange zest went, mix it in with your hands when you’re portioning it all out, k?  OVEN TIME! The little guys are in at 350 degrees for 15 minutes then ratchet that oven up to 400 for another 15 minutes to finish. 

Lookin’ good, guys. Ok. Let those cool, we’ve got whipped cream to not get murdered by. 

1 cup whipping cream. 2 Tablespoons powdered sugar. Bourbon. Whip the shit out of it. Remember why you hate parts of your fucking major. Throw the whip in the sink and bust out the damn eggbeaters because screw continuity your forearms hurt. 

Voila. Whipped cream that no one got a nitro canister in the chest over.  Sidenote: If you wanna just get a can of Reddi Whip or whatever no one’s gonna judge. It won’t taste the same but it’s easier and frankly after a certain point you’ll wonder if the whipped cream by hand is worth it anyway but it is really goddamn good. 

PLATING! THING THE LAST!

(With apologies to the food stylist on 911, as I have no white plates and am making do with my green ones)

We did it, guys! Chef Maurice Malone’s (Chef Jeff’s) bread pudding, with no near deaths! Go out there and make your own, cuz this thing is DELICIOUS. 

#cooking #Jeff Blim #911 #yes I did a whole ass recipe recreation for a character that's in an episode for under five minutes #bread pudding #so much bourbon was used in the making of this #JEST crew come and get it!

[chaoticgabby]

My Cheap & Relatively Healthy Grocery List for College Students

Context: I had been used to eating fast food so much because it was cheap that when I went to the doctors' they said I had high glucose content. That wasnt good. So I started eating healthier. Anyway let's skip the BS and get straight into it:

Ramen: the OG cheap food. I personally don't own ramen bc I dont like it that much, but if you want to save money this is the meal, at least add an egg or some veggies to make it healthier.

Frozen Veggies: anywhere from 50 cents to a dollar or two a bag. Can easily be kept in your freezer (if you have one) for months

Mac n' cheese: my all-time favorite. Of course, it might not be healthy for everyone to eat pasta all the time, but I do it anyway. Add some real cheese and spices for taste or chicken and veggies in it / on the side.

Other Pasta boxes (Pasta Roni, Velveeta, Hamburger Helper, etc.): basically as cheap or almost as cheap as Kraft macaroni, but maybe you arent a fan of mac n cheese.

Soup (Soup!!): Cambell's Tomato soup is often $1 a can. I like to eat mine with grilled cheese. Thats a whole ass meal. But of course you can get other soups just as cheap. Basically, any canned foods.

Canned foods & veggies: this one goes without saying. Although, the better options are sometimes $2 to $3 the same can be said for frozen veggies, but just heat these up and cook them in fried rice or just add butter and eat them aside a nice entré

Chunk light tuna: speaking of canned foods, canned tuna is soooo cheap and is a great option (if you even like tuna). Dont actually get the "pack tuna" for $1 a pack unless you want to keep it in your bag bc canned tuna is around 60 cents a can. Mix it with Miracle Whip (or mayo) and spread it over break for a good sammich.

Grilled cheese (or cheese toastie if you arent American I think??): similar to previous options, youre getting your cheese and your butter and your bread. Not as healthy as other options but way better than fast food calories.

Quesadillas: similar to grilled cheese, except spICY. My brother only eats these and he has no meal plan. I do it now too. Honestly, adding up tortillas, cheese dip, shredded cheese, & chicken is kind of costly but worth it. Also cooking chicken is annoying bc I dont have time for that. But. Yknow. A great option.

Pillsbury Crescents: a little costly, about $2+ per tube, but still fookin delicious. Also imma be real: actually havent checked the nutrition label to see if these are actually healthy. But these are sO useful. Make them by themselves for breakfast (with jam, eggs, or alone) or use the dough for other recipes. I use these with Manwich sauce, cheese, and ground beef for snacks :)

Manwiches: manwich sauce cans are $1 and although they have some sugar, its not nearly as bad as fast food. Just cook up some ground beef to go with it & maybe add cheese, sliced bread, or hamburger buns

PB&J: Another OG. I could never get tired of these. You just gotta make sure you have soft bread and the pb&j and youre good to go. Although..like.. some people apparently like theirs toasted or with different jams (I like strawberry).

Eggs!!!! : Just keep these in your fridge. Just do it. You never know when youre going to run out of food. Boiled? Scrambled? Fried? Soft boiled? With ramen? Omelet? In fried rice? Egg sandwich??? Eat them with bread, eat them with toast, eat them as a breakfast sandwich, scramble them with cheese, the list goes on. If you dont eat them often, get a smaller carton, but always have eggs! Also, for baking.

Rice, or fried rice: If you like rice, have been cooking rice for a long time, and can actually make it without burning, make sure you have rice. If you like rice but have never actually made it yourself, it takes trial and error in a pot. Or just invest in a rice cooker. Additionally, fried rice is not that difficult to learn & it fits the bill for healthy bc you can add unlimited veggies and meats. Im not here to educated you but the more ingredients, the better, is how i see it.

Fresh Food:

Fruit: I literally have "an apple a day" for breakfast. It's just good for you. Keep them in your fridge to keep them fresh. Keep one in your bag in case you get hungry. Bananas? Awesome! Use them in smoothies or a milkshake or eat them with your cereal or even with peanut butter. Possibilities are endless with fruit. Just make sure they dont spoil. Apples are OG bc they dont spoil as easily.

Vegetables: Make sure to only periodically get them so that they dont go to waste. Make some broccoli with butter & eat it alongside pasta. Or asparagus. Anything you want. Just make sure to have some with your meals sometimes. Greens are good. Additionally, carrots can get addicting if yoh eat them with ranch. The plus side is they are filling. If you have a tendency to want to munch on something: carrots.

Deli Meat / Sandwich Options: I personally dont make deli sandwiches because ham (as well as roast beef or turkey) can be expensive and then wanting to add lettuce and tomato to a sandwich sounds amazing but I'm scared they will spoil. Dont let me stop you though! Sandwiches are amazing.

Meat: you dont want to be cooking meat all the time bc it can get expensive, but the basics I always get are ground beef and chicken. I prefer "boneless skinless chicken thigh fillets" but you would need to cut off the fat. You could always get rotisserie if you arent feeling to for cooking. Also, if you're feeling expensive one week, salmon is just sooo good. I ate it with asparagus and seasoned with lemon. Delicious.

Snack / Dessert Options:

(I personally don't keep snacks or dessert in my home very often bc you dont want to binge eat. But here is what I have)

Peanut butter: classic, filling, can be potentially bad if you eat a shite ton

Nuts: peanuts, almonds, cashews, and especially pecans

Cookies: make your own, a lot of simple cookie recipes exist and it's a lot easier than you think. Baking essentials like flour, sugar, milk, and eggs are not that expensive to keep around in an apartment kitchen. Difficulties may be vanilla extract (the avg student doesnt have this lying around) a baking sheet, a big bowl, and possible a whisk. Store bought cookie dough isnt too bad either.

Box-cakes / box-brownies: simple and easy. Takes a few eggs sometimes and some oil, milk or water. The same goes for pancake mix. Honestly, I had an out-of-country roommate and he had never heard of boxed cake mix or brownie mix. They always made from scratch where he lived.

Low-calorie ice cream: okay ice cream can be pretty expensive and filled w/ added sugars. I used to eat this strawberry icecream sweetened with stevia and it was SO delicious, but I couldnt find that at my grocery store. Other options are "low-calorie" ice cream or "no added sugars" ice cream. I have one of these and the thing abt it is that its just the right amount of sugar to taste like ice cream and the neat thing is that you dont feel like binging it bc it doesnt have addicting added sugars.

Milkshakes / smoothies: this is a tough one bc me and most other students dont own a blender or juicer. I personally get my smoothies from a local smoothie place that only uses fresh fruit and then I ask not to add the natural sugars bc it is sweet enough with the fruit. Natural smoothies are delicious & I find that you can kind of make then if u freeze your fruits and blend w a fork. "Handmade" milkshakes are actually super easy w this method.

Yogurt: just...mmm.

"Healthy" snack food section, often called the gluten-free aisle: im not too experienced with this and im sure they have added sugars too but what I do know is I tried these gluten free oreos once and they were delicious

Fruits: I mentioned earlier but apples are great snacks

Veggies: also like I said earlier, carrots are great snacks. Not exactly a veggie but possibly potatoes for a meal or snack.

Granola Bars: for when youre too lazy to keep up with fruit and if fruit will spoil, granola bars (they healthy kind, not the chewy sugary kind) are so good to have in your pantry or keep in your backpack for a snack (and to keep you from on campus temptations). Also I used Nature Valley ones instead of cereal. They actually dissolve and are delicious with milk, since some cereals are so sugary.

Since my last college tips post got some notes I figured I'd keep writing these advice posts. For reference, I am hoping to become an RA next year at my college, so I'm not just speaking out of my ass. I generally have experience at college thus far and want to help students.

#Im American and Im not Vegan so sorry if this didnt help non americans and definitely not vegans :( #college tips #college advice #life hack #healthy living #food

[avantegarda]

The Other Grandfather

Hey @bluedancingkittykat I’m your Secret Santa for the Discord gift exchange! Please enjoy wee Elladan and Elrohir having a strange Yuletide visitor.

And @princess-faelivrin thanks for organizing this babe

At the age of twenty, Elladan and Elrohir considered themselves much too old for excessive excitement over the Midwinter festival. Certainly, the greenery hung around Imladris’ Great Hall was very pretty, but hardly anything to make a fuss over. And the various pies and pastries whose scents wafted out of the kitchens might have smelled delicious, but they weren’t what a soldier ate.

Still, no one could fault the twins for getting excited about having guests. And there were always loads of interesting people visiting Imladris during the midwinter season. Their grandparents always came from Lothlorien with the most wonderful presents imaginable, there were usually a few interesting human diplomats hanging about, and even the mysterious Mithrandir himself would occasionally show up with fireworks.

The person who Elrond introduced them to the day before the solstice feast, however, was not exactly the sort of guest the twins were accustomed to seeing. For one thing, he arrived neither on horseback nor in a carriage, and received no formal announcement. Instead, Elrond simply brought him into the boys’ playroom and announced the arrival of a visitor.

“Boys,” said Elrond briskly, as though there were nothing at all unusual about the situation. “This is your grandfather.”

Elladan frowned suspiciously. “No it isn’t.”

“We’ve already got two grandfathers,” Elrohir put in. “Grandfather Celeborn got here two days ago and Grandfather Earendil is too busy being a star to come visit. No offense,” he added quickly, nodding at the stranger. 

“None taken,” the stranger replied, his low, musical voice betraying just a hint of amusement. “And you are quite correct, I technically am not your grandfather by blood.”

“But really, boys, I’m surprised you’ve forgotten the stories I’ve told you,” said Elrond. “This is your other grandfather, the one who looked after me when my parents left. Your grandfather Maglor.”

“Ohh,” Elladan and Elrohir chorused, eyes wide. They weren’t forgetful babies; of course they remembered Elrond’s stories about his unusual upbringing and the people who’d raised him. But Elrond had always described his foster-father as a brave warrior and brilliant musician, and a prince at that. Whereas the person they were meeting now looked...well. Haggard was putting it nicely. His gray cloak and brown satchel were both heavily patched, and his dark curls vaguely resembled a bird’s nest.

Sensing that no more polite greetings were coming from the twins, Elrond shook his head fondly. “Anyway. Father, these are my children; Elladan on the left, and Elrohir on the right. You may, of course, refer to me if you need any clarification about which is which.”

“I don’t imagine it will take me long to sort it out,” said Maglor, giving the boys a wink. “I always was rather good at telling twins apart.”

--

“So where have you been for the last few years?” Elrond asked, as the family settled in their private sitting room that evening. Outside, the snow was still falling steadily, coating the valley with a glittering sheet of white powder...with any luck, the twins agreed, the snow would be the right consistency for a snowball fight the next day.

“We haven’t seen you since the twins were babies,” said Celebrian. “In fact, we were starting to get a bit worried about you.”

“Oh, you know. I’ve been here and there,” Maglor said vaguely. “Down south for a bit, mainly in Harad. Interesting country, that. They do some marvelous things with beans. As it happens, I picked up some gifts for the children while I was down there. May I?” At Elrond and Celebrian’s nods, he reached into his satchel and pulled out two small bundles, wrapped in colorfully patterned cloth. “There you are, boys. A couple of early-Midwinter presents for you.”

“Oh!” Elladan exclaimed, eagerly unwrapping his gift and pulling out a small dagger with an exquisitely carved wooden handle, its blade wrapped in a soft leather sheath. “Look, Mother, a knife! And Elrohir got one too!”

“Those are ceremonial daggers that many Haradrim boys receive when they are ten years old,” said Maglor. “Symbolizing maturity. And, of course, they are completely blunt,” he added, shooting a wink at Elrond and Celebrian’s concerned frowns. “Couldn’t cut anything with that except butter.”

“And if I catch you boys sneaking down to the armory to get them sharpened you won’t have any butter on your bread for a year,” Elrond said sternly. “But that’s kind of you, Father. It certainly wasn’t necessary for you to bring any gifts.”

“Nonsense! What else are grandparents for? And I got you something too, of course. Well, not a thing, exactly. A song.” Reaching once again into his satchel, Maglor extracted a battered old fiddle. “Feel free to sing along if you know the words. I wrote this one centuries back.”

At their age, Elladan and Elrohir were hardly seasoned music critics. This, however, did not prevent them from being aware that what they were hearing was extraordinary. --

In keeping with tradition, Elladan and Elrohir awoke at the crack of dawn on the day of the winter solstice, immediately hurrying to wake their parents. 

“Where’s Grandfather Maglor?” asked Elladan eagerly, bouncing up and down on his father’s feet. “Can we wake him up too? I want him to come play outside with us.”

Elrond’s face fell, and he shook his head sorrowfully. “I’m sorry, boys. Your grandfather had to leave earlier this morning.”

“He did? Why?”

“As it happens, he left you a letter. Hopefully he’ll explain himself.”

Dear Elladan and Elrohir,

I am truly sorry that I must leave before today’s celebration. As your father may have explained to you, I made many mistakes in my past, and as a result there are many people in Imladris (including your grandmother) who would be very upset to see me at a party. Leaving early is really the best solution for everyone.

I want to let you know, however, how much I have enjoyed seeing you again. The last time I was in Imladris you were tiny babies, and it’s extraordinary to see how much you’ve grown. You are wonderful, brave, clever children and I can easily understand why your parents are so proud of you.

With love and hope for a bright New Year,

Your grandfather Maglor

PS: The next time I see you, I promise I will tell you the story of the time I met a sea serpent.

“Well,” said Elrohir, when the two boys had finished reading.”I still say it’s too bad he couldn’t stay.”

“But if Grandmother Galadriel was going to be angry with him I understand why he left,” said Elladan. “She’s scary when she’s angry.”

“What does he mean by mistakes?” asked Elrohir. “You haven’t told us very many stories about that.”

Elrond glanced hesitantly at Celebrian, who shook her head. “That’s not a good story for a holiday,” she said firmly. “We’ll talk about it another time. For now, who’s ready for a snowball fight?”

Elladan whooped in delight and leapt off the bed, while Elrohir remained behind, looking up at his father with concerned eyes. “Is Grandfather going to come back?” he asked. “I mean, he’s not gone forever, is he?”

With a fond chuckle, Elrond patted his son on the head. “No, my dear, he’s not gone forever. He’ll be back one of these days. He doesn’t exactly stick to a schedule...but he’ll be back.”

#silmarillion #elladan #elrohir #maglor #elrond #tolkien #my writing #secret santa

[wistfulcynic]

The Very Witching Time (5 / 6)

SO I would like to begin by sharing a snippet of conversation I had with @thisonesatellite when I first told her my plans for this fic. I don’t remember all the details but here’s the gist: 

Me: *tells* 

Me: “It’ll be four chapters, about 20,000 words.” 

Her: “It’s so cute that you think you can write that in 20,000 words.” 

Me: “20k. Max.”

HAHAHAHAHAHA so obviously I WAS WRONG. I tragically underestimated the number of words I would need to tell this story. So now there are six chapters. AND THAT WILL BE ALL. 

Ahem. ANYWAY. 

In this chapter Emma and Killian deal with the aftermath of the curse breaking, there is some bonding and some sexy times and a library that will make you DROOL. 

Thanks as always to @cssns for the brilliant event and @gingerchangeling for the gorgeous art. 

SUMMARY: Emma Swan is a hereditary witch, last in a long line of wise women who for centuries have guarded the coast of Maine and the small village of Storybrooke with their homemade cures and their ancient magic. She holds the delicate balance between magic and mundane, but now that balance is threatened by a new foe, one capable of bringing an end to everything Emma is and everything she loves. To defeat it she will need all her power, help from her friends and neighbours, and the loyalty of a very unusual dog who answers to the name of Killian.  

RATING: M

AO3 | Tumblr: ch1, ch2, ch3, ch4

TAGGING: @thisonesatellite, @stahlop, @mariakov81, @kmomof4, @snowbellewells, @jennjenn615, @resident-of-storybrooke, @teamhook, @thejollyroger-writer, @winterbaby89, @darkcolinodonorgasm, @captainsjedi, @ultraluckycatnd @shireness-says @scientificapricot @tiganasummertree

(if you’d like a tag, please let me know!)

Chapter 5: 

Emma was never quite certain how she got home that morning. A soft haze obscured her recollections of the journey, like the delicate lace of frost on a winter windowpane or a particularly tedious Instagram filter. On top of the woozy exhaustion that always plagued her after intense magic use there was also the discovery of Killian’s true nature, the visions with their troubling revelations about Cora and his past, plus breaking a freaking curse, and if that weren’t already more than enough to make her head spin, that kiss… the soft, wet warmth of Killian’s mouth on hers would render her dizzy and faint even if she hadn’t channeled immense amounts of magic mere hours before. 

It is therefore, as you will surely agree, unsurprising that all she could ever remember of making her way back to her house was the radiant sunshine dappled by late autumn leaves, the sharp bite of frost the air, and Killian’s hand warm in her own, his arm around her shoulders and his body solid and reassuring as she leaned against him, her head tucked against his shoulder, breathing in the spicy scent of his skin. 

He guided her straight upstairs to her bedroom, helping her out of her wrinkled and leaf-strewn gown and into her pajamas before tucking her under her quilt. His fingers traced her cheek with the gentlest touch and she caught his hand, sensing his intent. 

“Don’t go,” she murmured. “Stay with me.” 

“Are you sure, love?” 

Such a simple phrase but she could hear every shade of meaning in the tone of his voice, Emma marvelled. The desire not to leave her warring with hesitation, uncertainty over what exactly his place was in her life now that he no longer wore the guise of a dog. She understood, and she knew there were important conversations they needed to have, but also she was desperate for sleep and certain she wouldn’t manage a wink without him there beside her. She squeezed his hand. “Stay.” 

He smiled and nodded and removed his own rumpled shirt and trousers before sliding into bed behind her, snuggling close and wrapping her securely in his arms. Emma sighed and was asleep in an instant. 

She awoke in the late afternoon just as the sun was dipping below the horizon, its bending rays bathing the sky in fiery blaze orange and softer coral, shot with streaks of heliotrope and brilliant rose. Only a sunset could make those colours go together, she thought with a smile, but in it they were breathtaking. 

Killian was still behind her, the protective curl of his body around hers so achingly familiar despite his altered form. From the cadence of his breathing she knew he was awake, though his only movement was his fingers twisting absently through the ends of her hair.

She turned in his arms and was met by his smile, brighter and more brilliant than any sunset, flooding her racing heart with a wave of warmth and sparks born of a different sort of magic. “How are you feeling?” he asked. 

“Better.” She smiled back at him. “Good. Wonderful, in fact. Starving.” 

He laughed. “Shall we have some dinner?” He moved to slide from the bed, halting on a sharp inhale when she laid her hand flat against his bare chest. 

“I’m not just hungry for food, Killian,” she said. The tingle in her blood was making her dizzy again but the day of restful sleep had restored her strength and she was buzzing and energised and ravenous. 

He caught her meaning instantly and his eyes widened, glazing with answering hunger and heat and a trace of doubt. “Are you—” 

“Don’t ask me if I’m sure,” she cut him off. “I am, completely. I’m still not certain how we broke your curse or shared my magic or what any of this is or what it means, but I know that I’ve never felt anything like this connection between us and I really, really want to make it physical. I need to. Is that okay?”

“You will definitely not hear any argument from me, love.” 

He gave her another of his impossibly familiar grins and she took a moment to marvel at just how much of the man had been present in the dog without her even noticing and then she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. 

In common with many witches Emma’s beliefs, in the abstract, were very open about sex. Far from being considered sinful it was seen as a natural and integral part of life, elemental as water and air, earth and fire. 

In the abstract. Practically speaking Emma was a shopkeeper in a small town where everyone knew everyone else and people talked. Where the local witch taking up with anyone would be a point of extreme interest to far too many people and there would be expectations and pressure and questions, and all things considered Emma had always found that celibacy was simply easier. 

Meaning it had been some considerable time since she’d been touched. And she had never, never used her magic during sex. 

Yet when Killian’s mouth opened under hers and his hand caressed her bare skin she found herself overcome, helpless against the rush of power that thrummed through her. Not her power, though. His. 

“How…” she gasped when they broke apart for air, unable to form any more complex words but certain he would understand. 

He did. “It’s in my hand, I think,” he said. “The magic that healed it. There was so much of it and not all got used. It’s— part of me now.” He stroked her cheek with his left hand and she could feel the vibrations of the magic it held. “And what’s part of me is part of you,” he whispered. “That’s how you feel it too. I think.” 

She shook her head. “I’ve never heard of anything like that. It’s— I mean, it shouldn’t—” 

“Emma.” His hand slid from her cheek to her hair, his eyes soft and amused and desperate. “I’m sure there’s a fascinating explanation but right now I do not care. Do you?” 

“No.” She pulled him back down to her, surrendering completely to the energy that sparked wherever their skin met, and the intensely arousing sensation of someone else’s magic flowing through her. 

Why the fuck not? she thought. Nothing about Killian had ever been what she expected, why should sex with him be any different? 

He took the lead and she let him, another new departure for her, let him slip the clothing from her body with an infuriating lack of haste as his hands and mouth unerringly sought out every spot that yearned for their touch, heightening her pleasure layer upon layer, higher and higher, impossibly high, until she was sobbing and clawing at him and prepared to beg. 

And when he finally —finally— slid inside her, joining their bodies in tandem with their hearts, the magic was an inferno, consuming them as they clung to each other, as they moved together in a rhythm both ancient and uniquely their own until the waves of magic turned to ecstasy and they fell apart, in pieces and more whole than they had ever been. 

Emma had no idea how long they lay together, entwined and still joined, but by the time she felt capable of thought and movement the last rays of the sun had faded and the light through her bedroom window was the glow of the pale moon above the treetops. 

“Gods, I’m starving,” she said. 

“Again? Give a man a chance to recover, love, after you wring him dry like an old flannel.”

She laughed. “This time I’m talking about food.” 

“Well thank fuck for that. I could definitely do with some nourishment.”

~~ 🌕 ~~

They raided the kitchen and feasted on whatever they could find that required no cooking: roasted corn and squash left over from the Samhain bonfire that seemed so much more than just a day ago, bread spread thick with butter and honey or generous slices of cheese, apples and slightly stale soul cakes and very hot tea. 

Emma was so hungry she’d have eaten anything and cared little for the taste but it was all delicious, spiced by the magic still sparking in the air and the pleasure of eating with Killian, properly this time, with him sitting next to her at the table rather than under it. 

“So,” said Emma, once the most demanding of their hunger pangs were quieted. “It feels really weird asking you this, after… well, after everything, but your last name is Jones, right? I remember from the vision.” 

“It is.”

Emma’s brow creased as she tried to kick her sluggish brain into gear. “Killian Jones,” she mused. “Why does that name sound so familiar?”

“I’ve no idea. I spent most of my life on the sea or in England, though I have lived in Boston for the past few years—” 

“Boston,” she interrupted, as faint bells began to chime in her memory. “Harvard University Press. Was it a book cover? Did you write a book?”

“Aye.” 

A very inelegant snort of laughter burst from her.  

“What?” Killian grinned at her mirth but his eyes were puzzled. 

“Sorry.” She held up her hand as another wave of giggles overcame her. “Sorry. I just don’t think I’ll ever be able to hear you say that without remembering how you used to bark it.” She laughed again and this time he joined her, blue eyes twinkling. 

“You might want to get over that,” he teased. “I say ‘aye’ rather a lot. It’s a navy thing.” 

“I’ll do my best.” She wiped her eyes and breathed deeply to stifle the giggles. “Anyway, you were saying you wrote a book.”  

“Ay— er, yes, I did. A history of the traditions of witchcraft from England to North America.” 

“That’s it!” She snapped her fingers triumphantly as the pieces fell into place, then waved her hand in a circular motion ending with it palm up in front of her.  Nothing happened. She frowned and waved it again, with more of a flourish this time but the same lack of result. Killian watched her curiously as she stared dumbfounded at her empty hand then rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I’m an idiot,” she said. “I forgot I’m so low on magic. It’s practically zinging through the air but none of it is the kind I can use. It’s a weird feeling. Anyway, I was trying to summon your book from my library but it looks like that’s not happening so I guess we’ll just have to get it the mundane way.” She looked at him, mischief glinting in her eye. “You’re a history professor, right?” 

“Ay— I am.” 

She grinned. “You’re going to love this.” 

Grabbing his hand she pulled him up from the table and along behind her out of the kitchen and through the living room to a door that he had never seen opened for the whole of the time he had lived in her house. Emma opened it and guided him up a narrow and winding set of worn stone stairs, her movements quick and certain despite the darkness. 

“Sorry there’s no light,” she said. “I’d put some on, but, you know, no magic.” 

“It’s okay—” began Killian and then they arrived at the top of the stairs and the words died in his throat as his mouth fell open and his eyes widened and he gaped with an expression of mute stupefaction that he would have known was comical even if Emma hadn’t burst out laughing at the sight of it. 

“Pretty great, huh?” she said. 

Killian had been in many extraordinary libraries in his time, from the stately magnificence of the Bodleian at Oxford to the hushed gravity of the Reading Room at the British Museum, from the sprawling glory of the New York Public Library to the actual Vatican Archives, where he hadn’t even been able to enjoy himself for fear of breathing improperly and getting kicked out. 

But none of them had prepared him for Emma’s library. 

Every inch of the walls was lined with carved wooden shelves, precisely fitted to the graceful curves of the circular room and broken only by the door they’d used to enter and another on the other side, and randomly placed windows of varying sizes and shapes through which pearly moonlight slanted, illuminating the round and sturdy oak table at the centre of the room and the rows upon rows upon rows upon rows of books. These rows curved around and around in the endless arc of a helix, twisting up much farther than his eye could see to the very top of the sharply pointed tower. 

Killian swallowed hard and with immense effort found his voice. “Why did we never come in here before?” he croaked. 

Emma shrugged. “I usually just summon the books I need. It’s kind of a pain to dig through them by hand so I came up with a spell that sorts them based on the criteria I give it.” 

Killian turned his astonished gaze on her. “You have a librarian spell?”  

“Yeah.” Emma frowned at him as he began to laugh. “Why is that funny?”

He shook his head. “It’s just my friend Belle would not be happy if she knew that was a thing. You could put her out of a job.” He looked around again, struggling to grasp the extent of her collection. There must be thousands of books, he thought. Hundreds of thousands. “You really have my book in here?” he asked her, ridiculously flattered at the idea. 

“Yep.” The room shifted with no apparent motion and a tall, rectangular window that Killian felt certain had been a good ten feet above their heads moments before was right where they stood. Emma pulled a book from the shelf beside it. “Here it is.” She held the book up in the shaft of moonlight from the window so he could see its familiar cover. “I enjoyed it.” 

“You read it?”

“Of course. I read everything written about witchcraft. It’s important to know what’s going on in people’s minds. Your book was better than most, though of course there’s a lot missing.” 

“Missing?” 

“Uh huh. Oh, don’t worry, it’s not your fault,” she hurried to add when she caught his disgruntled look. “Most of the stuff you left out I’d’ve been worried if you’d included. We keep it hidden for a reason.” 

“That… makes a lot of sense, actually,” acknowledged Killian, somewhat mollified. 

“Mmmm,” agreed Emma. “Um. Can I ask you a question?” 

“Of course.” 

“What made you want to study the history of witchcraft?”

His expression shifted and he gave her an odd look, wondering and tinged with awe. “You did,” he said softly.  

“Me?” 

“Aye. I didn’t know it was you at the time, of course. I just wanted to find out more about the witch Cora was looking for.” 

“But why was she looking for a witch?” asked Emma, voicing the question that had been niggling at her for some time. “For me, I guess?”

Killian blew out a heavy breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Now that is a tale,” he said. “Do you mind if we sit, love, and I’ll tell you all I know?”

“Sure.” Emma returned his book to her shelf and they sat together at the table, in large and ornately carved chairs that were far more comfortable than they looked. 

Killian took her hand in his, absently, caressing her knuckles with his thumb as he began his tale. “Cora has practiced witchcraft all her life, taught by her mother as I believe most witches are,” he said, looking to Emma for confirmation. She nodded, and he went on. “She was always fascinated by the High Magic and by the stories of ancient witches who had great power, and she spent quite a lot of time studying those things. During the course of her studies she found a prophecy—” Emma made a disgusted noise “— just fragments of it but it enthralled her to the point of obsession, and from then on she pursued it single-mindedly. Over the years she pieced together more and more of it until she believed what she had was nearly complete.” 

“And what exactly was in this prophecy?” spat Emma. 

Killian looked startled at her tone but replied easily. “It speaks of a day when dark magic would be driven from this world for good. Of a witch descended from centuries of those who did not have to hide their gifts, with distilled power of her ancestors who would seal the breach. It... speaks also of that witch’s true love, whose aid she would require to complete the task. A man who could be her saving or her undoing.” He lowered his eyes, the flush on his cheekbones obvious even in the moonlight. When Emma remained silent he looked up to see her staring at him in disbelief and building fury, and his embarrassment became consternation. 

“What is it?” he asked.  

“That’s what this has all been about?” she hissed. “Nearly tearing open the barrier, nearly killing you? All because of that old thing?”

Killian frowned. “What old thing?”

Emma pushed her chair back and stood as the room shifted again. She stomped —there was no other word for it— over to a bookshelf and grabbed a leather-bound book as large as a dinner tray and thick as a club sandwich, then stomped back to the table and dropped it in front of Killian with an echoing thud. Killian’s eyes widened as he caught the title: Viarum Finis Omnium. The end of all roads. 

“Bloody hell,” he breathed. 

Emma hefted the book open and began ruffling through its pages. “Hmmm?” she said absently. 

“Oh, nothing, nothing.” Killian waved his hand in an exaggerated gesture, though she wasn’t looking at him. “It’s just when I was doing my dissertation I’d’ve given my left nut to read this book.”

“Oh.” Emma paused, frowning at the book like she couldn’t fathom why anyone might find it important. “Well, you can read it now if you’d like. But I’ve got others that are loads better.” 

“Others…” said Killian faintly as she turned another page and found what she was looking for. 

“Here it is,” she said triumphantly, it being apparently the wrinkled and faded and folded piece of parchment she snatched from the book, handling it with a casual indifference that made the historian in Killian want to cry. She snapped it unfolded with an angry flourish and held it out to him. 

“Is this the prophecy you mean?” 

He took the parchment from her gently, touching only the edges. “This is it!” he exclaimed. “This is the whole thing. But… have you always known it was about you?”

“It’s not about me.”

“What?” He looked up at her and she scowled. 

“I mean, it’s not necessarily about me. It could be about anyone in my family. It could be about no one. It could —and I’m gonna be honest, this is my take— be complete bullshit.” 

He managed not to roll his eyes. “I know you don’t think much of foretelling, love—” 

“That’s the truth.” 

“But are you sure there’s never been anything to suggest that this is about you? Cora is not nearly as clever as she thinks she is but she did devote her life to figuring out this prophecy and she did identify us both… and if you and I aren’t the witch and the man it refers to then that leaves rather a lot of odd things unexplained.” 

Emma folded her arms across her chest, her expression that of a child who won’t admit it’s bedtime. “Such as?”

“Well, there’s your garden magic,” said Killian. “For a start.” 

“What about my garden magic?”

“It recognised me. The first time I stepped into the garden the magic there knew me. It welcomed me like an old friend, and warned me that danger was coming. It told me to protect you.” 

“Hmmm,” said Emma, still scowling.  

“And your own magic, love,” continued Killian, gentle but relentless. “You shared it with me.” 

“I did do that,” Emma unfolded her arms and sighed. “Which shouldn’t be possible. Witches can link their power but to share magic with someone who has never practiced, and so easily… Well, it basically can’t be done.” 

“And yet it was done.”

“But not because of a stupid prophecy—” 

“And how can you explain my hand?” He held it up. “How did I get my whole hand back, and with added magic?”

Emma shook her head. “I don’t know. You’re right. There’s a lot that’s weird about all of this, though I’m just never going to believe that any of it can be explained by a prophecy. There’s gotta be more to it.” 

She took his left hand in hers, examining it closely. “Why did Cora take your hand in the first place? I’m assuming she arranged for it to be damaged.” 

“Aye, and then she amputated it with magic. I’m not certain why exactly but I imagine she was Shown something that told her you would need it, or need something I could do with it.” 

 “Shown,” echoed Emma grimly. “Which means she has the gift of sight,”

“Sight, aye,” Killian agreed, “but interestingly not perception. She found the prophecy but she couldn’t fully understand it, so she turned to her Sight for answers. Which it provided. But I’ve always suspected she misinterprets the things she Sees.”

“And that is why the Sight is next to useless,” scoffed Emma. 

“Perhaps, but that doesn’t change the fact that Cora’s Sight what drives her. She asks to be Shown things and then acts decisively on what she Sees. She asked to be Shown the witch from the prophecy but her Sight couldn’t conjure you, so she asked to See the man instead. And was Shown me. This was years ago, when I had just joined the navy. It took her about two years to track me down after that.”

“The first vision,” said Emma. “She— did she really destroy your whole ship?”

“Aye,” said Killian grimly. “A few well-placed blasts of magic and the whole thing went under. It was the worst disaster in modern British naval history, and there was no logical explanation for it. And I was the only survivor.” His hand clenched into a fist on the tabletop. “It was declared an Act of God and afterwards the navy gently suggested that perhaps I wasn’t best suited to a career with them. Gave me an honourable discharge and no option of appeal.” 

“Oh, Killian.” Emma covered his fist with her hand and he unclenched it to grip her fingers tightly. “What did you do?” she asked. 

“Well, I had no family and no employment and no place to go. And a rash deal with Cora that left me in her debt, which is of course exactly where she wanted me. She came to me in what she claimed was generosity and offered me a job doing her dirty work and I thought why the fuck not? How much worse could my life get? Only it turned out that my life could get considerably worse. Cora was in search of any information she could find about the prophecy, and she, as you saw, did not hesitate to use her magic, and me, as weapons to obtain it.”

“But you stayed with her.” 

“Aye, because I felt I had no other option. Exactly as she knew I would. I believe her aim was to corrupt me to the point where I could be used to destroy you. ‘The man can be her undoing,’ remember. Cora interpreted that literally to mean I would be able kill you as she couldn’t.” 

“But what stopped her from killing me? Or at least trying to, I’m actually  not that easy to kill.” 

He chuckled, as she’d hoped he would, and shifted his hold on her hand so their fingers were linked. “Her Sight told her it would be disastrous to attempt it. I can only assume it Showed her the same thing about me.” 

“Which is why she cursed you instead of just killing you.” 

“Indeed. It was a bit of a gamble, my challenging her like that, but I figured what else could I do? It was either run with my theory that the Sight had instructed her not to kill me or die anyway, either of starvation or wolves.”

Her hand tightened on his, her mouth thinning as she thought of how she had nearly lost him before they’d even met. 

“What was on that paper you found? That you threw in the fireplace?”

His mouth twisted wryly. “It said ‘Killian Jones is the man in the prophecy.’ Not much, I grant you, but once I knew that, and realised that she knew it and had likely known it since the beginning, a lot of things that had always struck me as peculiar suddenly fell into place. Like why she needed me, why she would go to so much trouble to get me in her control.” 

“But do you think she showed you that deliberately?”

“I do. She must have, she’s not careless enough to leave anything lying around unless she intended me to find it.” 

“But why?”

His thumb rubbed absent patterns on the back of her hand as he thought. “This is all just conjecture,” he said after a short pause, “but I believe she realised that I wasn’t fully on board with what she was doing. As awful as the things I did for her were, as much as they ate away at my soul, some small part of me always resisted, found little ways to thwart her. And she needed me fully committed. I believe she thought that if she let me go I would be lost again as I had been after I was discharged from the navy. That I would eventually come back to her of my own volition and then she would have me.”

“But you didn’t. You didn’t go back.” 

“No. I was determined not to, no matter what it took. I knew I had to find a way to stop her, and the first step would be to learn as much as I could about that prophecy, and about witchcraft, and about the particular witch she sought.” He smiled at her. “About you. So I became a historian, specialising in the history of witchcraft and the occult.” 

“And Cora kept waiting for you to come crawling back,” said Emma, an edge of deep satisfaction in her voice. “But you never did, so she had to come to you. And she found you a successful college professor.” 

Killian chuckled. “Aye. She must have hated that.” 

Emma thought about everything he’d been through, all he had suffered, and how he had still come through it all and beaten Cora at her own game. Love for him surged in her chest. “You’re amazing,” she sighed. 

He flushed bright pink and rubbed at a spot behind his ear, exactly the spot, Emma noted, where he had loved to be scratched when he was a dog. “Ah, I don’t know about that,” he muttered. 

“I do.” Emma wanted to crawl into his lap and have her way with him right there in her library, but she suspected he would be horrified by the prospect of fucking anywhere near ancient books so she settled for leaning across the table and kissing him gently. 

He returned the kiss but when they broke apart he shook his head. “I’ve done some awful things, Emma. You don’t know—” 

“I don’t need to,” she interrupted. “I’ve seen you, Killian, the essence of you. You’re a good man.” 

“I’m not—” 

“You are. And I love you. All of you.” 

“Gods, Emma,” he whispered, leaning close to her again, resting his forehead against hers. “I don’t deserve— I’m not— ah, I love you so much.” He kissed her and she sighed, snuggling as close as she could get. “Let’s go to bed,” he murmured against her lips.

“Why not stay here?” She couldn’t resist teasing him. “We could—”

“On the books?” He pulled back to gape at her, his eyes as horrified as she’d known they would be. She bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Love, I don’t think you fully realise just how valuable, how important these books are—” 

“I was kidding,” she soothed him. “We’ll go to bed. And afterwards, I’ll tell you all about my plan for giving Cora what’s coming to her.” 

“Mmmm,” he growled. “That might be the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.” 

~~ 🌕 ~~

The next morning they went to the shop together, almost as they always had except that the forest was as warmly welcoming as a frosty collection of trees can be and they walked along the path side by side and hand-in-hand. When they reached the edge of the village Emma could feel Killian tense, but they strolled unimpeded down the streets and no one they encountered reacted in any way to the sight of Emma holding hands with a strange man or stopped to ask her where her dog had gone. 

“Hmmm,” said Killian, frowning as Leroy went past them with a gruff nod and no hint of surprise. 

When they reached the shop door he kissed her and squeezed her hand before releasing it. “I think I’ll go see if I can find some new clothes, love,” he said. “And discover if my credit cards still work after I’ve been missing for several months. And I really should contact someone and let them know what happened. Er, as much of it as I can tell them, at least.” 

Emma nodded. “You can use the computer in the back room if you need to. And there’s a shop at the corner of Main and Oak that sells men’s clothes.” 

“Aye, I think I remember it. I’ll be back soon.” He kissed her again, then headed off towards Oak Street. Emma watched him go and tried not to feel bereft. 

“Don’t be an idiot, he’s only going two blocks away,” she told herself firmly. But after nearly three months of Killian being constantly at her side even a short separation felt weird, and the shop empty and echoey without him. 

Fortunately he returned in less than an hour, dressed in new jeans and a soft blue sweater that brought out his eyes. “This is nice,” she murmured as she snuggled into his chest and rubbed her cheek against it. “Almost as soft as your fur used to be.” 

He chuckled. “I thought you’d like it.” 

The shop door opened and Mary Margaret entered. 

“Hey, Emma,” she said, not looking at them as she rummaged in her bag. “ I have to get to school but I just wanted to be sure you were okay, since you were closed yesterday. And yes I know you’re usually really tired after Samhain but I thought I’d check in anyway. Aha, there they are. Classroom keys, thought I’d left them at home.” She looked up, grinning. “Oh, hey Killian.”  

Emma and Killian exchanged a glance and waited. 

Mary Margaret’s eyes darted from Emma to Killian and back again and her bright smile began to fade. She opened her mouth then closed it again. Her forehead wrinkled. She began to blink rapidly and pointed at Killian with a shaking finger. 

“What… you’re… who…” she stuttered. “You are Killian… aren’t you?” 

“Aye,” he replied, short and sharp like a bark, and Mary Margaret’s eyes bugged.  

“Oh my god,” said Emma, elbowing him in the ribs. “Do you have to?” 

Mary Margaret’s eyes were so wide Emma was afraid she’d lose them. “But you’re… how… what… WHAT?”

Emma took pity on her. “Killian was cursed,” she said. 

“Cursed,” repeated Mary Margaret. 

“Yep. By Cora, actually.” 

“Cora— wait, my stepmother Cora?”

“Mmm hmm. Remember I told you I thought she might be a practitioner.” 

“I—” Mary Margaret swayed slightly and Emma darted over to catch her before she could fall. “This is a lot to take in,” she gasped. 

“I get it,” said Emma. “Really I do.” She rubbed her friend’s back in a soothing motion as Mary Margaret concentrated on breathing. “And I hate to put pressure on you,” Emma continued, “but actually I’m glad you’re here because Killian and I could really use your help.”

“Well, I mean, of course I’ll help you if I can,” said Mary Margaret, once her shock had passed. “What do you need?”

“Do you think you and David could come to my house tonight?” asked Emma. “We’ll give you dinner. Killian’s promised to cook.”

“Come to your house,” repeated Mary Margaret, eyes bugging again.  

“Yep.” 

“Your house?”

“Um, yeah?”

“Your house where I’ve never once been because you never invite people there, even though I’ve been your best friend for ten years?”

“Ah. Yes, that’s the one.” 

“And you want us to walk there, I suppose?” Mary Margaret had gone into full teacher mode, hands on her hips and eyes shooting daggers. Emma had to make a conscious effort not to squirm, and not to hex Killian who was leaning against the apothecary counter, trying without much success to stifle his laughter. 

“You’ll have to really,” she told Mary Margaret. “There’s no road.”  

“So you want David and me to walk through the forest? After dark?”

“Yeah, well the forest right now isn’t as scary as it used to be,” began Emma, trailing off when Mary Margaret fixed her with the Look she gave her students when they refused to share their coloured pencils.“But Killian and I will walk with you if it makes you nervous,” she hastened to add.  

Mary Margaret took a deep breath, then another. Then she nodded. “I think… we’d like that. The company and the dinner.”

“Great.” Emma sighed in relief and sent a fervent prayer to the goddess that she would never have to see Mary Margaret’s teacher face again. “How about you meet us back here at about six?” 

“Okay.” 

“And don’t tell Dave about me,” Killian added, with a wicked grin. “I’d like it to be a surprise.” 

~~ 🌕 ~~

At ten minutes to six that evening the streets of downtown Storybrooke were largely deserted, which is unfortunate as anyone who had been on them would have been treated to the sight of the town sheriff being dragged down Main Street by the hand, ruthlessly and at breakneck speed, by the fifth grade teacher. 

“What is all this about?” David grumbled. “I know you’ve always wanted to see Emma’s house but this is a bit extreme.” 

“It’s not about the house,” said Mary Margaret impatiently, then amended. “Well, it is a little bit about the house. But mostly it’s about something I’ve been dying to tell you all day but I promised I wouldn’t and you know how I am with secrets, David, I’ve deleted at least ten texts to you spilling the whole thing and I can’t take it anymore. Would you hurry, we’re nearly there.” 

Seconds later she flung open the shop door and pulled him inside, to where Emma was just finishing counting the register. 

“Hey, I’m nearly done,” she said, carefully ignoring the buzzing excitement that was emanating from Mary Margaret in almost visible waves. 

David looked around, trying to figure out what had his wife in such a tizzy. He didn’t blink when Killian sauntered out of the back room, though he did scowl, as he had every time he’d seen that dog.

Hold up, thought David.  

“Mary Margaret,” Killian said, kissing her cheek. “Lovely to see you again.” He nodded at David. “Dave.” 

David stared for a moment then his face took on the deeply satisfied expression of one who had guessed right all along. “Well at least you didn’t lick her face,” he said. 

“Not anymore, mate,” said Killian. 

“KillianwascursedandCoradiditbutEmmabrokehiscursebykissinghimcanyoubelieveit?” said Mary Margaret, all in one breath. 

“I always knew there was something off about you,” said David, then his eyes narrowed. “Where did you get those clothes?” 

“Shop down the road,” replied Killian. “Thank goodness no one thought to cancel my credit cards.” 

“And what exactly were you wearing before you went to the shop down the road?”

“I was dressed when I was cursed and still dressed when I became uncursed,” said Killian with a smirk. “Good bloody thing too as I wouldn’t have fancied a stroll through the forest of a frosty November morning tackle out, as it were.” 

David opened his mouth again but Emma interrupted. “Stop interrogating him, David, you’re off duty. And anyway, we’ll tell you the whole story over dinner,” she said. “Let’s get going.” 

But Mary Margaret couldn’t wait and she peppered Killian with questions as they walked, and by the time Emma was speaking the words to allow her and David past the garden wards she had pried the entire story from him. 

“I just can’t believe it,” she said for the millionth time as she sat with Emma and David on the sofa while Killian prepared dinner. “I mean, I can believe Cora is evil and I can believe Killian has been a man all this time. He wasn’t really that convincing as a dog, was he? Now that I really think about it, I mean.” 

“I always suspected,” said David smugly.

“You always suspected he was really a history professor cursed by your stepmother-in-law as part of her attempt to flood this world with dark magic?” said Emma, with admirably restrained sarcasm. “That’s some killer detective work right there.” 

David had the grace to look chastened. “Okay, point taken, but I did always think he wasn’t quite right as a dog.” 

“Me too,” said Mary Margaret decidedly.

“Well don’t tell him that,” laughed Emma, “He’s very proud of his dog cosplay.”

Killian called to them that dinner was nearly ready, and Emma led her friends into the kitchen where the large table was set for five. 

“Are you expecting someone else?” asked David. 

“Yeah, I am,” said Emma, looking slightly shifty. “And I’m gonna need you guys to trust me.” 

“Trust you?” 

“Yeah.” The wards around the garden sounded an alarm, and Emma and Killian exchanged glances. “That’ll be her,” said Emma. “I’ll be right back.” 

She returned a few moments later, accompanied by Regina. 

David and Mary Margaret gaped. 

“Regina is here by my invitation,” said Emma, before they could speak. “She’s going to help us.” 

“Help us… how?” asked Mary Margaret.

“Against my mother,” Regina replied. “Miss Swan—” she took a deep breath and started again. “Emma has asked for my assistance in defeating her.” 

“I feel like I’m way behind here. Why does she need to be defeated?” asked David. “Didn’t you take care of that on Samhain?”

“We’ll explain everything over dinner,” said Emma. “And our plan. But first, Regina has something else she’d like to say to you.” 

She gave Regina an expectant look and the dark haired woman grimaced slightly before turning to Mary Margaret. “I want to apologise,” she said. 

“A— what?” said Mary Margaret faintly. 

Emma wondered if she should feel guilty for piling yet another shock on Mary Margaret, who had already had quite the day. But she needed her friend to trust Regina. 

“For the way I treated you,” Regina elaborated. “When we were growing up, and—” she swallowed hard. “—just before your wedding. I owe you an apology for that as well,” she said, turning to David. “I could make excuses, but I won’t. I was awful, and the reasons why don’t matter. I just— I wanted to say I’m truly sorry, and I am going to do better. In the future.” 

The room was dead silent for an uncomfortable moment, the only sound the hissing and bubbling of the food on the stove. Then Mary Margaret stood and approached Regina. Tentatively she put her arms around her stepsister, ignoring the other woman’s flinch. “I accept your apology,” she said. 

Regina’s shoulders slumped as the tension drained from her body, and she actually patted Mary Margaret’s back. “Thank you,” she whispered. 

Emma smiled and Killian put his arm around her shoulders, kissing her temple. “Well done, love,” he murmured in her ear. “I think the food’s all ready, now. Shall we eat?”

“Yeah. Let’s eat.” 

#cssns #cssns19 #magic au #witchcraft au #witches #witchcraft #cursed!Killian #witch!Emma #cs fic #cs ff #csff au #captain swan #gingerchangeling #profdanglaisstuff #the very witching time

[kanasmusings]

[Translation] VAZZROCK bi-Color Series 2nd Season Vol. 1 - Drama Track 2

Second track is up~! I hope you all enjoyed Mamiya’s new CD as much as I did because, my god, the things that I have discovered about both VAZZY and ROCK DOWN are enough to sustain me until Sho’s CD releases wwww

※ Please don’t re-post the English translations without permission. Please just like/reblog them instead ^^

Oh! And if you can, please do consider buying the CD here to support the artists ^^

Anyways, under the cut, enjoy~!

Track 02: 『お疲れ様の一杯を』 “A drink for our hard-work.”

                                        »»————-　★　————-««

[0:00]

  (Door opens)

  OWNER: Welcome—Oh? Taka-chan, you brought someone this time?

MAMIYA: Yup, table for two~ Is the tatami room available?

OWNER: It is.

  (Mamiya and Sho start walking)

  SHO: Oh~ This shop’s got great ambiance.

SHO: It’s for the general public but it’s very elegant.

MAMIYA: You should tell the owner that directly. I’m sure he’d jump for joy if he heard that from you.

SHO: (chuckles) You’re exaggerating.

(Mamiya and Sho settle themselves in the tatami room)

MAMIYA: Alright… Should we order some draft beer first? Or maybe wine?

SHO: Hmm… Draft beer maybe~? I want to know what it feels like to enjoy it after work~

MAMIYA: Roger that~

MAMIYA: (opens the sliding door and tells the owner) Owner, two draft beers and whatever you’d recommend to eat!

OWNER: Got it.

(Mamiya closes the sliding door)

SHO: This is the shop that Ouka told me you frequent, isn’t it?

MAMIYA: Yup, that’s right—Wait, you talk about things like this with Ouka?!

SHO: We do~ You become our topic of conversation a lot, you know~?

MAMIYA: Uwah… I won’t ask what you talk about then…

SHO: (chuckles) That’s such a waste~

MAMIYA: (smiles) Really now.

OWNER: Here, thanks for the wait.

(Owner starts serving them)

MAMIYA: Oh~! I was waiting for that~ Woah…! They look so delicious!

MAMIYA: These wings really pair well with the alcohol, ya know~?

MAMIYA: Sho, can you hand me that plate over there?

SHO: Sure.

(Sho hands Mamiya the plate)

SHO: You ordered so much. Are you sure we can eat all of this?

MAMIYA: Hm~ You’ll know once you start eating~

MAMIYA: Ah, Owner. Please bring us some nihonshuu later on, too.

OWNER: You got it.

(Owner leaves and closes the sliding door behind him)

  MAMIYA: Alright then, should we toast for now?

MAMIYA: Thank you for your hard work today, too!

SHO: And to you as well~

(Mamiya starts drinking)

MAMIYA: I feel so alive~!

(Sho starts drinking)

SHO: Uwah~ That’s so delicious.

MAMIYA: Are you actually the strong type, Sho?

SHO: I wonder~ I don’t have any plans about finding out whether I’m weak or strong to alcohol.

MAMIYA: About how many glasses can you drink if it’s wine?

SHO: Hm… About two or three?

MAMIYA: (laughs) That’s great! Are you fine with nihonshuu, too?

SHO: If it’s not too harsh for my taste.

MAMIYA: I see~ This place has a great selection of nihonshuu so, you can just choose later.

SHO: I’m looking forward to it~

MAMIYA: Welp, let’s go eat something before that.

(Mamiya prepares a plate for Sho)

MAMIYA: Here you go.

SHO: Thank you. I’ll prepare you some of these on a plate, too, okay?

MAMIYA: Sure, thank—Ah, no, wait!

MAMIYA: Haruto advised me before to only let you eat and to not let you serve food so uh—

SHO: I don’t think I’m that clumsy though.

MAMIYA: No one thinks that you’re clumsy. It’s just… There are things that people are not suited for, you know?

(Mamiya starts serving the food instead)

SHO: Takaaki watches over people even when we’re not all together, huh.

MAMIYA: (laughs) It’s not like I’m doing all of this consciously though. I guess it’s just because I’m surrounded by a lot of accident-prone people.

SHO: Does that include me~?

MAMIYA: (laughs) Yes, it does.

SHO: How strange~ I thought that we were supposed to be in the same situation~

MAMIYA: You mean, us being leaders?

SHO: Yup. A leader who takes care of his family of six~

MAMIYA: (finishes serving Sho the food) There we go.

MAMIYA: We’re actually a huge family of 12, you know?

SHO: (chuckles) A really big family, huh~ Even though it took quite a while.

MAMIYA: That’s true.

(Mamiya starts eating)

MAMIYA: Mmmm~!! This is so delicious!!

SHO: (chuckles) It’s that good? Maybe I’ll have some, too~

(Sho takes a bite)

SHO: !!! This is~!!

MAMIYA: It’s so good it makes you want to just exclaim, right? Then, if you drink alcohol after this, it’s—

(Mamiya starts drinking)

MAMIYA: It’s the best!

SHO: (laughs) You really look like you’re deliciously enjoying it, huh~

MAMIYA: Not “look,” I really am~!

SHO: Let me try it then~

(Sho starts drinking)

SHO: (chuckles) It truly is the combination of happiness, isn’t it~?

MAMIYA: (laughs) You look like you’re enjoying, too~

MAMIYA: We should do a commercial for beer now.

SHO: (chuckles) A privilege for those over 20, huh~

MAMIYA: Alcohol drinking is exclusive for those over 20, y’know?

MAMIYA: Looking at your image, it’s unexpected that you’d like beer so—we might really be able to make it work.

MAMIYA: Maybe I should try telling my manager that…

SHO: Do you keep thinking about things like that even on your days off, Takaaki?

MAMIYA: It’s not like I always do. But, I can’t help it…?

MAMIYA: Whenever I find something unexpected about our members, I kinda think that maybe we can use that as a selling point, too, or something.

                                        »»————-　★　————-««

[05:05]

  SHO: Oh~! I might have something not about me.

SHO: The other day, I went to a local district with ROCK DOWN. It was a roundtrip only but, Ruka kept on saying that he wanted to go sight-seeing.

MAMIYA: (laughs) Sounds like something he’d do.

SHO: Even more so since it was a hot springs district. But, we couldn’t find that much free time to roam around.

SHO: Just when I was thinking of having Gaku calm him down, Reiji already started asking the locals for information.

MAMIYA: He’s good at things like that, huh?

SHO: In an instant, he found out about a footbath that only the locals were familiar with. We all boarded a taxi and headed there afterwards.

SHO: Even though we only had two hours before we had to go on the plane.

MAMIYA: (laughs) Ayumu didn’t object to that?

SHO: About that~ Even Ayumu got excited about entering the hot springs since we were there already.

SHO: Everyone was of one spirit and we headed to the footbath~ (chuckles) And that footbath was the kind that had small, sharp pebbles in it, too.

MAMIYA: And then it was pandemonium~

SHO: (chuckles) Exactly~! Ayumu was screaming in pain but Ruka kept pushing on his feet. When Ayumu couldn’t bear it anymore, he started riding on Gaku’s feet.

SHO: And, when I thought that Haruto was looking like he was fine, it turns out that he couldn’t even move a foot~

SHO: Reiji took a video of all of us during that time~ Of course, one where he’s included as well~

MAMIYA: Ah, I can totally imagine it~ Wait, that seems like something that’d happen in a variety show.

SHO: That’s right. I was thinking that it would seem fun to do a show like that with everyone after Reiji showed us the video.

SHO: You meant something like that, right~?

MAMIYA: Yeah! Being with those guys, even normal things seem interesting that I just wanna show them off to people, y’know?

MAMIYA: But, a hot spring’s super nice~ I wonder when we’ll get that kind of chance.

SHO: What happened when you went to the local districts?

MAMIYA: It was a roundtrip, too. The only thing we did was maybe eat the famous boxed lunches in bullet trains.

MAMIYA: Plus, Ouka sent his manager back in advance so we barely even managed to buy them. That’s it.

SHO: It’s difficult when you can’t find that much free time, huh.

MAMIYA: I wish we could do more next time.

MAMIYA: Ah, but, doing something with all the members is good on its own, too.

SHO: Even if it’s just in the common room?

MAMIYA: Yeah. Just the other day, Issa was saying he wanted to eat some salt and butter bread (shio pan).

SHO: Salt and butter bread?

MAMIYA: You don’t know? It’s kinda like a croissant. The texture’s soft like a French bread and it’s got a bit of a salty taste with lots of butter.

SHO: I think I kind of get it now.

MAMIYA: But, that was at midnight.

SHO: I don’t think… any bakeries are open at that time, huh…

MAMIYA: And I’ve never seen them being sold in convenience stores, too.

MAMIYA: Plus, he was being all spoiled and saying that he didn’t want it if it’s not freshly baked. He hit Futaba awake and told him to make one from scratch. When Futaba told him that he didn’t have the ingredients, Issa went all the way to my place.

SHO: Well, he can, since we’re in the same apartment complex~

MAMIYA: But, getting asked for some flour and stuff at midnight should be out of the question, right?

SHO: (chuckles) It should, huh~ So, did you make some?

MAMIYA: Oh, we definitely did. But he got mad since we didn’t have any butter so he went to get Yuma. And then, Ouka got mad because he got woken up by the noise. He brought with him Naosuke because, according to Ouka, “Naosuke would definitely sulk if no one woke him up.”

SHO: So, you all made bread in the middle of the night?

MAMIYA: Yeah. Futaba was the teacher and we were all kneading dough.

MAMIYA: Really, what an evil thing~

SHO: Did Issa participate in the bread-making class, too?

MAMIYA: That’s just the thing! He’s the one who wanted to eat it but he said, “I’m sleepy so wake me up when it’s done.”

SHO: Ah…

MAMIYA: He fell asleep in a corner in the room so I went ahead and played a prank on him~

SHO: (chuckles) What did you do?

MAMIYA: I curled his hair oh so thoroughly with a curling iron~

SHO: (chuckles) I’m surprised he didn’t wake up~

MAMIYA: It’s me we’re talking about, you know? His hair got so fluffy that it would make him 3x more hostile if he saw it.

SHO: He didn’t find out even after he woke up?

MAMIYA: No one generally looks at a mirror at midnight, right? The bread was just done too so, he was happily enjoying his bread with his fluffy hair~

SHO: (chuckles) That side of VAZZY is really great, too, huh~

SHO: I want to see that kind of cooking show, too.

MAMIYA: Hm… I want to try it too as long as Ouka doesn’t get to hold a knife.

SHO: It’s that bad?

MAMIYA: I wonder now… I think it’s the same level as Haruto not wanting you to hold a knife.

SHO: That’s… Well, that’s reasonable~

MAMIYA: (laughs) Don’t say that~!

SHO: (chuckles) I can’t get enough of talking about our members~

MAMIYA: Oh man… We should have talked about this on the broadcast.

SHO: Ah…!

MAMIYA: Well, let’s talk about it next time~ Let’s take that opportunity to appeal to make a TV show, too~

SHO: As expected~ You don’t miss any opportunities.

MAMIYA: I am very honored by your words of praise~

MAMIYA: Now that we’re in the mood, wanna go for the nihonshuu~?

SHO: Sure~

(Mamiya opens the sliding door and places an order)

MAMIYA: Owner, some nihonshuu, please! Oh, the not too strong kind.

OWNER: Got it.

OWNER: Here you go.

MAMIYA: Eh--?! That’s fast! What’s this~? Did you already prepare it and was already waiting for us?

OWNER: Yeah, I got a hold of some good stuff, see?

MAMIYA: Heh~ Sho! You can expect that it’s good if the Owner recommends it.

SHO: I can already smell how good it is~

OWNER: Alright then, please enjoy your stay.

(Owner closes the sliding door)

  SHO: It’s unusual for it to come with a small cup, huh?

MAMIYA: It feels as if it’s meant just for drinking alcohol, right~?

MAMIYA: Then, once again.

SHO: That’s right~ Cheers~!

                                        »»————-　★　————-««

[10:47]

  SHO: Oh… This is…

SHO: It’s delicious.

MAMIYA: I’m glad to hear that~

MAMIYA: Ah~ It’s so good! He really got a hold of something good with this!

SHO: It feels gentle to the lips but the aftertaste is very distinct…

SHO: I feel like I can drink a lot of this~

(Sho starts drinking more)

MAMIYA: There’s a saying that good alcohol shouldn’t be wasted so, drink as much as you’d like.

MAMIYA: It’s alright, it’s just us leaders here anyway.

SHO: We won’t be troubled if we see each other drunk, huh~

MAMIYA: That’s right. Since we’re here drinking good alcohol, why don’t we talk about things that we can only talk about as leaders?

SHO: Like what?

MAMIYA: Hm, let me see… For example… How did you feel when your CD was first released?

SHO: You mean, my solo song?

MAMIYA: Yeah.

SHO: I really felt… nervous about my first song.

SHO: Of course, I did feel a little bit excited about it, too.

MAMIYA: Same here. I’ve been super nervous about it starting from how people would feel about it until the time I actually saw it on sale.

MAMIYA: But…

SHO: But?

MAMIYA: Hm… It’s just a little bit but… I was scared, too…

SHO: That’s… That’s unexpected. In what way were you scared? Was it because the expectations were too much?

SHO: Or because yours was the first one released?

MAMIYA: Hm… There’s that, too. I mean, I was first in line for the VAZZROCK Project, right?

MAMIYA: I had it in mind that I can’t fail at the very beginning.

MAMIYA: Plus, in my case, I have history with an old unit so… I was thinking about how the old unit’s fans would feel if I released a song without the old members. I got too worried about that, too.

SHO: I see. You’d be curious about how your old fans reacted, huh.

MAMIYA: I guess I was, even though we got newer fans, too.

MAMIYA: That’s why, I totally couldn’t sleep on the day the CD was going to be released.

MAMIYA: And I can’t really yawn during the release event so I had to use some super cold eye drops so early in the morning.

SHO: (chuckles) So you did something like that, huh?

MAMIYA: For real.

SHO: I didn’t know… You just seemed so relaxed to me before and after your CD’s release.

SHO: I guess that’s a part of your character, too, huh.

MAMIYA: Then, my feint worked. It’d be nice if I managed to fool the others, too.

SHO: At the very least, you managed to fool me~

MAMIYA: Well, I’m glad about that. (sighs) I can really only talk about these kinds of things with you.

MAMIYA: I mean… I don’t think that we have to be perfect because we’re the leaders but… There are times when we can’t show the members we’re nervous, right?

SHO: Yeah, I know…

MAMIYA: I know that even leaders feel lost or weak sometimes but… Ah… It makes me wonder what would happen if my members see me like this or something…

MAMIYA: As someone who should pull them along, I don’t want to show them any unnecessary anxieties that I feel.

SHO: That’s right. And not just as leaders. We’re the older members too so, there are times that the younger ones get influenced by us.

MAMIYA: Exactly!! That, too! My unit’s got more people who just debuted unlike ROCK DOWN, right?

MAMIYA: If I say this in front of people who just entered the industry, I feel like they’d be disillusioned by what the people around them do or say in the future!

SHO: That’s true, it is a specialized industry after all.

MAMIYA: In an unstable world like this, the only ones you can count on are your friends. Specially the leader who leads the way. To them, we’re the bright light that guides them along.

SHO: They’ll feel uneasy if the light becomes small or unstable, won’t they?

MAMIYA: That’s exactly it. No matter how strong the winds may become, the light should never disappear.

MAMIYA: Even if we have to desperately protect the light, you know?

SHO: So even you think of things like this, huh, Takaaki…

MAMIYA: He-he~ Being shameless means that I’d be great at hiding secrets, too~

MAMIYA: Well, I can say these things now because of a certain someone.

SHO: A certain someone?

MAMIYA: I can only open up about this because I’m with you, Sho. A unit leader just like me.

SHO: (smiles) I’m honoured.

SHO: Then, I guess it’s my turn to reveal some secrets.

MAMIYA: Heh~ You have something, too?

SHO: Of course, I do.

                                      »»————-　★　————-««

[15:23]

  SHO: Unlike VAZZY, our average age is not that young. And we have a lot of members who have already been in the industry before.

SHO: So this is from a slightly different point of view but…

MAMIYA: Like, how you had difficulty trying to be in charge of people from different fields in the industry?

SHO: I won’t say that I didn’t have that in mind but...

SHO: But, I guess I did feel some… anxieties, maybe? about why I was chosen to be the leader.

MAMIYA: Eh? Why so?

SHO: You know? I’m the type who thinks that it’s okay even if the oldest member is not the leader.

MAMIYA: Hm… Well, that’s true. In the entertainment industry, sometimes it’s the career history and not the age that’s the deciding factor.

SHO: Exactly. I wasn’t familiar with that kind of common sense in the entertainment industry.

SHO: Even though I was introduced to the agency, it was as a violinist, not as a talent.

SHO: Even though I knew what kind of world I was entering when I became a talent, I never once imagined that I would be a unit leader.

SHO: It made me feel uneasy a lot.

MAMIYA: Heh… I’m sorry to say this but—I never really noticed since you always seemed so relaxed!

MAMIYA: And, from my point of view, you always seemed so elegant.

SHO: There were times when I just laughed it off to make it seem okay, you know?

SHO: I’m so glad that my feint worked~

MAMIYA: That just means that we’re both good at keeping up appearances.

SHO: (chuckles) That seems to be the case.

SHO: But, I’m glad I got to talk about this with you.

SHO: It made me remember that it’s okay for leaders to experience troubles, too.

MAMIYA: Me, too. I feel so relieved that I’m not the only one who felt lost at times.

MAMIYA: Well— (softly) This is just between you and me, okay~?

SHO: A secret just for the two of us, huh~

MAMIYA: Totally~ Then, let’s praise ourselves for getting us all the way here, shall we~?

SHO: Agreed~

SHO: Now then, leader~ Thanks for your hard work.

MAMIYA: To you as well, leader~ Thanks for your hard work.

  ==END== 

                                      »»————-　★　————-««  

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#tsukipro #vazzrock #vazzy #rock down #mamiya takaaki #onoda sho #vazzrock translations #drama cd #my translations

[itsthejuggernautbitch]

You Look Like Trouble (Morning Glory Wine - Cable/OC

Here’s chapter eight!

Issa lot of booty.

(And as always, not to be that person but if you’ve got the time and the inclination, kudos or a comment would be greatly appreciated.)

Taglist: @this-that-and-every-thing-else  @ptite-shit  @lesbianyondu @chromecutie  @gallifreyangrandtorino  @ra-ra-rasputiin  @akihecko @bigstarlightkingdom  @buckyjefferson  @lenavonschweetz

Four a.m. was an early night for both Vivian and Cable. Vivian rarely got in from Sister Margaret's before 2AM and sometimes ended up closing the bar with Weasel at 6AM, depending on the clientele that night. Vivian was exhausted after an already-long night of stitching up criminals and snuggling with a mercenary she’d almost kicked out of her backroom office before said snuggling occurred, but she didn’t feel like sleeping. She’d slept on the ride home, but with Cable now standing in her kitchen, she was more than wide awake.

Vivian figured that she had to be crazy to have invited him in. She had to have lost it, she decided. Both she and Cable had dark circles under their eyes and the night wasn’t even finished. She’d never invited a guy in after a fight, not even Jack when they'd still been married. And certainly not in the last five years (to be fair, she hadn’t been near anyone in the last five years, but that was beside the point). It was just him. Cable and his stubborn gruffness, his deep voice, those muscles - and the compassion that he did his best to keep hidden.

Everything about him was strange and out of place in her cozy little apartment. The mechanical arm and eye, the obviously anachronistic weapons hanging off his hip, even the obligatory tight-shirt-and-cargo-pants mercenary uniform. His rugged appearance was resolutely different from her sensible little kitchen, but as soon as he dropped the weapons and sat down at her kitchen table, it became strange to think that he’d never been there before.

Well, she certainly wasn’t going to kick him out, that’s for sure. Yeah, they still had shit to work through - a lot of it. But this was cozy, comforting. As if they’d known each other for years. As if this was no different than every other Saturday night. And it scared the hell out of both of them.

“Coffee?” Vivian asked, fishing out a new coffee filter for the machine and two mugs. “I’ve got decaf too if you don’t want a case of the jitters..”

“Full strength will do just fine, please and thank you,” Cable replied, elbows on the table. He watched her fuss with the coffeemaker, almost smiling behind his hands. He’d seen her fuss over people before, himself and Wade in particular, and her fussing over the coffeemaker wasn’t so different from that. “Not a fan of decaf.”

“My kind of man,” Vivian replied, pausing when she realized what she said. “Well, if you couldn’t already tell.”

“This would be an awkward predicament if I wasn’t.”

“I certainly wouldn’t be making you coffee at four a.m. if you weren’t.”

Vivian poured two mugs of coffee, handed him one, and sat down at the table. She knew she looked a mess - the dark circles (and darkening further) that never seemed to go away; long, dark hair pulled up in a high bun; old jeans and a t-shirt. Not that it mattered much at four a.m. what state of disarray she might be in, especially when Cable looked at her like that anyway. She felt prickly, anxious, like she was being poked with needles. It was probably because the extent of her physical contact with anyone in the past five-ish years had been Wade’s hugs. It couldn’t be that Cable looked fucking delicious even after a long-ass day of no-telling what he did during the day.

She took a sip of coffee and found the taste of that particular sip to be the best thing she’d ever put in her mouth. It was a welcome rush of heat after a long, long day. And she would probably enjoy it even more, but the problem was she couldn’t quite sit still.

“Are you hungry?” Vivian asked, leaving her coffee on the table and jumping up to open the fridge. She pulled out everything that looked kind of good - mostly just a loaf of bread and some peanut butter for sandwiches. She liked to cook, but she didn’t have time. And why she was pulling out food, she couldn’t say, but it seemed like the appropriate thing to do.

Cable smiled around the rim of his mug, taking a sip of his coffee. “Viv.”

“What?” she asked, halfway through pulling plates out of her cabinet.

“You nervous?” he asked gently, still smiling. She’d never seen him smile this much, not since she’d met him. It was a good look on him, soft against the otherwise rugged aesthetic.

“No, no, I just…” she realized that she was, in fact, fidgeting like a madwoman. “I’m the one who invited you in. I’m too fucking old to be nervous about…”

Cable lifted an eyebrow, sitting his mug down. “No, you’re not too old to be nervous. I’m nervous too, if it makes you feel better.”

"You don't show it."

"I've had a lot of practice hiding it.”

Well, if macho man can be nervous and admit to it, she supposed she could give him the same courtesy. Vivian pulled the plates down and closed the cabinet with a sigh. “I guess I am, too. It just feels… It’s strange to go from feeling like a sad teenager after a bad fight to… maybe having something after nothing at all for so long.”

“No stranger than falling for someone after losing your entire family.”

Vivian sighed. “Look, if I pushed this too far too soon -”

Cable stood up, making his way over to her. He tugged the plates out of her hand gently and put them down on the table. “Listen to me, Vivian. I want to be here. I wouldn’t have come in if I didn’t.”

“Especially not at 4AM.”

“Especially not at 4AM."

With that, Vivian reached up, took his face in her hands, and kissed him. This kiss wasn't like the first one they’d shared weeks ago - that one had been all closeness and heat and intimacy. This kiss was ravenous, hungry and a little desperate. Cable kissed back with just enough force to drive her back against the kitchen counter, bracing his palms against the marble countertop on either side of her.

The world was, at that moment, reduced to its barest form: Cable's mouth on hers, hard body pressing her back against the kitchen counter, and his insufferable inability to figure out what to do with his hands. Words were a silly idea, a logical fallacy of the highest order. And if her brain hadn't gone a little fuzzy, she'd be annoyed that she was still in the kitchen (trying to avoid getting smushed against the food sitting out) and not being fucked stupid into her own cozy mattress. No, in that moment she was really only annoyed that Cable still had clothes on.

After a few gasping breaths, Cable pulled back away from her. "I'm fine with doing this in the kitchen, but…"

"I think we're gonna need a bed if you let me do what I've got in mind," Vivian interjected, hands still cupping his face. His eyes were dark, and she could just barely see the glimmer of red behind his left eye.

He licked his lips, tongue gently poking out past his teeth. "I'm all yours, darlin’. Whatever you've got in mind."

Vivian wrapped his arms around his neck. "First room on the left down the hall."

Cable slid his arms underneath her ass and picked her up. "Yes, ma'am."

Cable must have had a little super-strength mixed in with his list of abilities because he didn’t stumble even once under their combined weight. He didn’t quite make it to the bedroom before Cable pressed her up against the wall, lips and teeth sucking at the hollow of her throat.

Vivian couldn’t seem to keep her hands off of his face. She pressed her palms to his cheeks so that she could draw him in for another kiss, unwilling to let him go long enough to let him take her the final three steps past the bedroom door.

“Wait just a second,” Cable gasped, pulling away just long enough hoist her up higher. "Let me adjust..."

“What’re you telling me to wait for?” Vivian asked, hooking a finger under his chin. “You’re the one who stopped at the door.”

Cable grinned, adjusted his grip on Vivian’s waist, and shoved open the bedroom door.

Vivian’s room was smartly furnished, if a little minimalist. There was a dresser shoved into one corner and a desk in the other. Not that it mattered - the only important bit of furniture in the room at that moment was the bed pushed against the back wall.

Cable collapsed on the bed, bringing Vivian down with him in a tangle of limbs, teeth, and tongue. She straddled his lap and pressed her hands against his chest, pulling away from him (if not a little unwillingly).

“Seriously, though,” she started. “It’s been, like, a long time since I’ve… and it wasn’t good last time and-”

“That’s alright,” Cable replied, brushing her hair back out of her face. “I think we both need to take it easy. We’ve got all night. Well, all morning.”

She'd never seen that look on a man's face before - a look of such understanding and tenderness that her breath caught in her throat. For all his gruff exterior, the manly macho attitude, he could empathize with her. This was different for both of them - him, after he'd essentially lost his family to the literal test of time and her, letting someone in for the first time in years.

"Thank you." Vivian hugged him. “For understanding."

"Nothin' to thank me for," Cable said. "This is new for me, too."

"We'll just take it slow."

He raised an eyebrow. He tended to like it slow anyway. "And that's not necessarily a bad thing."

Vivian shifted in his lap. She could feel his cock against her thigh through his clothes, half-hard and hot. "Not a bad thing at all."

Cable slid his hands up under her shirt and tugged it over her head before pulling his own shirt off. He picked her up against and twisted them around so that she was on her back, head almost knocking against the headboard, and he was wedged securely between her thighs.

Vivian watched him pull his shirt off. She wasn't fixated on the metal arm - she'd seen it more than a few times and had the techno-virus issue explained to her. She was a little fascinated by how far the virus extended over his body, but that could be chalked up to scientific fascination. No, what she was fixated on appealed to the very basic instinct of the little reptilian part of her brain that only thinks in terms of sex pleasure satisfaction want want want. He was fucking ripped.

Vivian wasted no time in running her hands along the corded muscle criss-crossing his body. "Are you kidding me? I haven't been to the gym in six months and you've got a fucking eight-pack. Are you even real?"

"Oh, I'm very real," Cable laughed and reached under her back to snap the clasp on her bra. "And I know the bra trick, too."

"You're not real. I'm dreaming." Vivian wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him close for another kiss. Yep, that was all of him pressed against her thigh now. "Well, I guess you are real."

"You're awfully chatty when you're worked up," Cable teased. "I don't think I've ever seen you this talkative."

"I talk a lot when I'm nervous."

“If you need me to stop, you say the word."

"Oh, no, I'm doing great right now." Vivian paused, shivering as Cable pressed his mouth just below her ear. "I talk a lot when I'm horny, too. So you really never know where it's coming from."

"Well, let's see if I can calm you down."

Cable crawled down her body, pressing kisses to her neck and down her chest, sucking bruises into her skin. His mouth slipped across one nipple and then the other, fingers pinching and pulling at the one not currently occupied by his mouth. Vivian raked her hands through his hair, holding his head in place as he grazed her nipple with his teeth.

She grabbed at his shoulders as he mouthed down her belly, all the way to her navel. He dipped his tongue just under the waistband of her pants before licking a stripe back up her body and biting her nipples again.

“You’re gonna kill me-”

Cable kissed her neck, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. “Relax for me. I’ve got you.”

“Easier said than done, but I’ll do it for you.”

Cable trailed his lips back down her body, and this time, he didn’t stop at her waistband. He peeled her jeans off of her and threw them in a heap on the floor at the foot of the bed. He hooked her legs over his shoulders, spreading her thighs wide for him and bracing her hip with his nonhuman hand. It was cold against her skin at first but warmed up quickly.

He started down near her knees, trailing his lips up her inner thigh, sucking and biting as he went. He left marks up all the way up her thighs, then switched to the other just as his lips hovered over her cunt. She huffed when he started on her other thigh, impatient and needing relief.

He slid his fingers in, one after the other until he could fit three fingers knuckle-deep into her cunt. He pumped his hand slowly, pressing the pad of his thumb against her clit and moving in slow, even circles. He trailed his mouth along the line of her clit, tongue flicking out to press and tease her cunt. Vivian gripped his hair, fingernails scrabbling over the short military cut.

“Nate, come on, that’s enough teasing-”

The sound of his name got Cable to look up at her. He seemed surprised. “What did you call me?”

Vivian blinked, a hard twinge of fear stabbing through her stomach. “Sorry, I guess I should have asked first…”

“Say it again.”

“What?”

Cable stared up at her, eyebrows raised. “Say my name again.”

“You want me to call you ‘Nate?’”

“Yes,” he said, none too gently. His voice strained with want, as if just hearing her call his name tested his willpower.

And of course, that gave Vivian an idea. She had never been able to just relax in a situation, never been able to just lay back and enjoy what was being done to her. She needed a little control. In fact, that would probably help with the fluttering nervousness in her stomach.

“You like when I say your name?” Vivian asked, fingers scratching at the back of his scalp.

Cable crawled back up so that his hands were placed firmly on both sides of her head. “Yes.”

“Why don’t you show me how much you like it?” Vivian said, sitting up. She bent to kiss him, stretching up onto her elbows. She tasted herself on his lips.

“What have you got in mind?” Cable asked.

“Take your pants off and find out.”

Cable chuckled and did as she asked, stripping down until he was completely naked. She had him sit on the bed and straddled his lap, pushing him to lean back against the headboard.

Vivian braced herself on her knees, lowering herself down over his lap. She slid herself down over his cock, just brushing against him. He jumped as she lowered herself down, watching intently, his eye flashing red in the half-light. She gripped his shoulders for leverage and leaned down to bite his earlobe, the hollow of his throat, until she claimed his lips in another kiss. She rubbed his cock just enough to get him all slicked up and aching, until he was moaning in her ear.

“Jesus, that feels so good,” Cable breathed, gripping her hips. “You gonna fuck me, baby?”

“Maybe I’ll tease you until you say please,” Vivian replied, grinding down just a little harder.

“It won’t take much more, I can promise you that.”

Vivian eased up enough to sit back on his thighs and get herself positioned comfortably. She took the base of his cock in her hands, pumping gently - not that he needed any more help at this point. He was hard and flushed red from root to tip, heavy in her hand and ready for her to sink down on.

“Hold on,” Cable said, voice strained. “Condom?”

“Baby factory doesn’t work.”

“Then go for it.”

Vivian sank down on him, working herself down slowly so that she could stretch to accommodate his size. He was good and slicked up from her just rubbing on him, so it wasn’t a hard stretch. She heard him sigh, heard him call her name, before she lifted herself up and sank down on him again.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathed, leaning his head back against the headboard. His fingers dug into her hips, searching for anything to grab.

“You like that?”

“I like that.”

She sank down on him harder, deep as she could go, until he was almost lifting her up and slamming her back down himself. He called her name again, one right after the other, peppered in between fuck and yes and his deep, gruff groans. Finally, he grabbed her hips, lifted her off of him, and flipped her on her back, settling down between her legs. He slid his cock back in, looking for any kind of friction he could manage.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned in her ear. “So wet for me, baby. You want me to fuck you like this? Nice and hard like this?”

“Look who’s chatty now,” Vivian breathed, making him smile against her skin. “Keep fucking me, Nate.”

“Say that again.”

“Fuck me, Nate,” Vivian said, digging her nails into his back. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him in as close as she could. “Just like that.”

“My name sounds so good in your mouth, darlin’,” he said, slamming his hips against hers. “I’m close.”

Vivian nodded. “I’m ready.”

Cable pressed down against her so that they were chest to chest as he thrust once, twice, and came with her name in his mouth. Vivian followed right before him, squeezing every bit of him that she could manage with her hands as she clenched down around him. He rode out his release, pumping his hips slowly until he could ease out. He pressed his forehead against hers, breathing heavy, before kissing her forehead and rolling onto his side.

He ran his fingers down her side, following the line of her hip. “You okay?”

Vivian kissed him, throwing her leg over his. “Never better.”

----

They’d been asleep for maybe a couple of hours before a knock sounded at the door. Vivian wouldn’t have heard it at all had she been sleeping by herself, but it was hard to stay asleep when she wasn’t used to someone being in the bed next to her. Especially someone naked who looked as good as Cable did disheveled from sleep. Cable, on the other hand, was a light sleeper anyway and would have woken up from a pin dropping in the next room over.

Vivian rubbed her eyes and sat up on the edge of the bed. Cable grabbed her hip, scooting her in close to him. “Want me to get that?”

“No,” Vivian replied, standing up to stretch. She searched around for the first shirt she saw and something that kind of looked like shorts on her floor. “It’s 9AM. I guarantee I know who’s at my door.”

“If it’s that clown in the red suit-”

Vivian pulled on the clothes she found and bent down to kiss him good morning. “I will send him promptly on his way with no cookies, nor milk. Or coffee. That’s usually why he gets here this early.”

“Go get rid of him,” Cable replied, stretching before throwing the covers off of himself. “I’ll make breakfast after you slam the door in his face.”

“My hero.”

The knocking was getting louder and was now punctuated by Wade’s sing-songing voice. She almost wanted to see how long he would do it before either giving up or having the cops called on him. She could bet that calling the cops would happen before he gave up. But she wanted breakfast and five minutes awake with Cable before the both of them had to go get the day started.

Vivian opened the door and made sure to block the entrance so that Wade couldn’t push straight past her. “Can I help you?”

“Well, hello! Good morning to me.” Wade said, looking up Vivian up and down and whistling. “I was just in the neighborhood and noticed a blue truck parked next to your car in a place where there usually isn’t a blue truck. And I find you this morning wearing the shirt a certain Grumpy Daddy was wearing yesterday and a pair of boxers I guarantee you don’t own.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Vivian said, grinning. “These are my pajamas.”

“Don’t you lie to me. You wear those Pikachu pants I bought you to sleep in.”

“Well, I wear these under the Pikachu pants.”

“Come on, McSteamy! You’ve got to tell me all about it!” Wade whined, on the verge of outright begging. “Viv, he’s still here this morning. I want all the dirty details, right on down to what Grumpypants says in bed.”

Vivian nodded, pretending to hear him out. “Still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Viv, for the love of God, just say yes or no. Was the dick good?”

“Yes.”

And she promptly slammed the door in his face. She locked every lock so that there was no chance of him getting in short of literally breaking down her door. She could still hear him yelling out her name, trying to get her to come let him back in.

Vivian padded into the kitchen where she found Cable searching through her fridge. He was still naked, considering that she was wearing his clothes. “You won’t find much in there to make breakfast with, I’m afraid. I don’t have time to eat here that often.”

“There’s eggs and bacon. Looks like a good breakfast to me.”

Vivian sat down at the table and watched him get to work. He’d already set to making a pot of coffee. “I’m gonna put in some clinic hours today. Want to take a shower with me after breakfast?”

“Yes ma’am,” Cable replied, sitting down at the table across from her. He handed her a steaming mug of coffee and took one for himself. He peered over at the stove every now and then to check on the eggs and bacon. “I’ve got a job to do after lunch, but it won’t take me long.”

“So, I’ll see you tonight then?” Vivian asked,taking a sip from her mug.

“Mhm. And we’ll get a good night’s sleep after that.”

----

Vivian had put in her hours at the clinic and headed right over to Xavier’s mansion. She still had a month left of working her clinic hours, but after that she’d be moving permanently back into the mansion. As she walked down the hallways of her old home, she wondered if her room was occupied or if it had remained empty all these years. Surely Colossus had boarded another new trainee. Maybe she’d finally get a bigger room…

She sat down at the kitchen table with Colossus and waited for Wade to show up. He’d been living at the mansion for months now, ever since Colossus had pieced him back together after Vanessa’s death. Really, of all the people at the table, she was the one who should have been late - not Wade. And yet, he always seemed to run on his own schedule unless he had a job to do.

“So, this is what we are going to do,” Colossus said, clicking his pen. He’d been doodling on his notepad while he waited for Vivian to get comfortable and was more than done with waiting for Wade to pop in. “We are going to create a game plan.”

Just then, Wade popped into the kitchen. He plunked himself down at the table on the other side of Colossus, peering over the larger man’s shoulder. “Well, Uncle Wade’s coming along no matter what, so I’m just gonna sit in on this one.”

Colossus wrinkled his nose, the easiest way to determine that he thought something was a bad idea. “I am not sure that is a good idea, Wade.”

It usually wasn’t a great idea to bring Wade along on any mission that required tact, but Vivian kept her mouth shut on that one. She couldn’t take part, so she didn’t have much to contribute. This was Colossus’s area of expertise, not hers.

“I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? We knock on the door to take the bastard’s kids and he pulls a gun on us?” Wade asked, snorting. “I’ve got bad news for him.”

“He won’t be able to do anything,” Vivian said. She fidgeted with the edge of the tablecloth. It was something Colossus had picked out, clearly - it was minimalist and a little utilitarian, but it was clean and crisp from being freshly laundered. “The X-Men aren’t subject to the government. If you’re coming to get Benji and Shelly, Jack doesn’t have a choice but to give them up.”

Colossus scribbled with his pen. “Be that as it may, I am still not sure if you should be the one to go with me, Wade.”

“I’ll go.”

A voice sounded from the kitchen door, gruff and deep. The three turned to find Cable leaning against the doorway, fully dressed in his usual uniform of cargo pants, skin-tight t-shirt, and utility bag (Wade still wouldn’t give up the fanny pack joke - Vivian tended to agree but she didn’t mention it). He strode in and took a seat at the table next to Vivian, crossing his legs under the table.

“Well, howdy stranger,” Vivian grinned. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” he replied.

“You could have mentioned that,” Vivian said, bumping his shoulder with hers.

“You didn’t ask.”

Wade reached all the way around Colossus and clapped Cable on the back. “Glad to have you on board, Marty McFly! What a way to meet your new girlfriend’s kids, huh?”

“Are you sure about that, Cable?” Colossus asked, watching him carefully. Colossus still had a hard time trusting Cable, but he’d never made it known. He accepted that his wariness also came from a place of protectiveness, but Vivian was a big girl and could handle herself just fine.

Vivian mirrored Colossus’s concern. “I kind of agree with Colossus here. Wade can handle this just fine.”

Cable shrugged. “I’m not gonna kill the guy. Probably.”

“Hey, hey, I’m going whether Cable goes or not!” Wade snapped.

“Enough!” Colossus said, tearing the sheet out of his notepad and crumpling it up. “The three of us will go. We will keep this as peaceful as possible.”

“And if we get a few good headshots in, no harm done!”

Vivian smacked Wade’s arm. “If you traumatize my children, I will find a way to kill you.”

“Colossus will cover their eyes, Cable and I will take aim.”

Cable put his hand on the back of Vivian’s chair. “We’ll take care of it.”

“I trust you. All of you. On varying levels, but I can’t go with you so I’m going to have to trust you.”

#cable #cable imagines #cable x reader #cable headcanons #MCU!cable #deadpool #deadpool imagines #deadpool headcanons