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alpacaparkaseok · 3 years

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Lost & Found - 10

Pairing: Park Jimin x soulmate (oc)

Warnings: Insecurity, anxiety, abandonment

Word Count: 5.1k

a/n: thanks for waiting! I normally post in the mornings but life happened and this is also a super important chapter (lol, they all are) that I needed to make sure was prepared to launch us into phase 3. (yesss, there are phases!) as always, thanks for reading, and let me know how it went!!

Chapter 10. Blue & Grey

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Yuri steps into the back a moment later, coming to lean up against the counter beside me as I struggle to free myself from Taehyung’s gaze. In the span of a single blink, his eyes soften and he’s wearing a pleasant expression as Yuri begins to speak.

“You said you wanted to talk about something important with me?” Yuri urges, looking a little worried yet elated to have such prominent figures in her small bread shop. Namjoon nods hastily, sparing me a glance.

“Yes, thanks for seeing us. We know that this is a little...strange, perhaps. But we wanted to make sure everything was settled before things can get out of hand.”

Of course, my heart begins to race a little more. “What do you mean, ‘get out of hand’?”

For all the world, Taehyung looks like he’s ready to answer me, but Namjoon responds before he can get a chance. “Yuri, I’m assuming that you’re aware of Jolie’s, erm...accident.”

“Oh, of course,” she offers me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, I just don’t understand what that has to do with anything you’re here for.”

Namjoon and Taehyung share a look before turning back to Yuri and I. Clinging to my apron which I have yet to remove, I pray that they can’t see the slight tremor in my hands. A thought passes through my mind, completely unbidden and foreign. Before I’m able to stop myself, the words dive off my tongue.

“Is...is he alright?”

Taehyung’s gaze snaps to me, brows furrowing as he looks genuinely confused. Namjoon, however, takes in my white knuckles and hunched shoulders, and gently smiles.

Before Namjoon can reassure me, however, Taehyung jumps in. “He’s fine. We’re here to discuss other things, however.”

The way that Namjoon doesn’t say anything to cross Taehyung has me realizing that while he may be the leader, this is a completely different ballgame.

It’s me, Jimin’s disgraced soulmate, against Taehyung, his proclaimed soulmate.

I know a losing game when I see one.

“Right. Yuri, we’ve got to discuss some sensitive information with you today. Would you be willing to sign an NDA?” Namjoon steers us back on course, even as Yuri glances back and forth between Taehyung and I.

“Oh. Y-yes, of course.”

Clapping his hands together, Namjoon dives right in. “Perfect. Well, I would like to discuss a few things with you. Taehyung-”

“Yep.” Without leaving me an opportunity to ask questions, Taehyung is coming to stand before me. “While Namjoon is explaining some things to your boss, we’re going to have a chat.”

Glancing over at Namjoon, who is leading Yuri to one corner of the large room, near the storage area, I receive no mercy. When I turn to look back at Taehyung, I catch him staring down at my thread with a faraway look in his eyes.

Needing to have something to keep me going while I receive what I’m sure is going to be a royal chewing out, I turn to head over to the worktable.

“You talk, I’ll knead.”

✂

I’ve learned something about Taehyung in the past few minutes.

He doesn’t hate me as much as he would like for me to think he does.

It was quiet for a long moment as I sprinkled flour over the worktable and pulled out a slab of dough I had been planning to let some of the other employees use later on in the day. With my heart in my throat, I began to beat it into shape. For about a minute, the only sound in the workroom was the sound of the dough against the table and Namjoon’s hushed conversation with Yuri.

Taehyung sidles next to me, the silence suddenly becoming blaringly loud as he watches my hands. Over and over again, I roll the dough. Once it’s sufficiently loose and pliable, I begin to shape it.

“So this is your job?”

He can’t keep the curious tone out of his voice, and I glance over at him to see his wide eyes flitting between me and the dough. Almost as though he can’t quite believe it.

“What did you think I did?” I ask, not able to refrain from my sarcastic streak. “Buried bodies?”

Just like that, whatever angry storm clouds were lingering in his eyes dissipate and he laughs. Laughs loud enough that both Namjoon and Yuri pause in their conversation before continuing.

“Honestly,” he confesses, “something like that. Yeah.”

I snort, returning to the dough. “Nice.”

“Do you think you can teach me?”

“How to bake bread?” I ask, curious at his change in attitude. I see him nod in my peripheral.

“Yeah. I think it looks amazing. Very therapeutic.” He pauses, and I can almost see the thought bubble hovering over his head. “We have a pretty big table at the house, you could probably use it. Or does it have to be a certain material?”

A part of me freezes under the nonchalant mention of the house he shares with my soulmate. The way he’s testing the waters, assessing me for any kind of reaction.

Another thing that I’m learning about Kim Taehyung: he picks up on everything.

“Er...what kind of table is it? Like, is it a countertop or-”

“Oh, yeah. The big one is the kitchen island. It’s a granite countertop I think...Namjoon hyung!”

There’s no need to yell, but he does anyway.

“What?” Namjoon asks, bewildered but used to this kind of behavior.

Taehyung turns back to me, shrugging. “It probably is. Would that work?”

I blink, wondering if it’s ok for me to laugh at what just happened. Shouldering through it, I focus on the dough again. “Yeah, granite’s great for dough.”

Taehyung looks lost in thought, but I’m starting to realize that I should always be on my toes around him. Indeed, he recovers quickly and decides to finally discuss what he came here to talk about.

“I’m assuming your boss doesn’t know what really happened,” he states quietly enough that there’s no way Yuri can hear him from across the room. A simple shake of my head is all it takes to confirm what he said. Glancing around the room, he notices the back door.

“I think it might be best if we step out back for a moment.” Taehyung takes a step toward the door before stopping to look back at me where I stand with the dough still in my hands. “Unless you need to finish that first…?”

I shake my head, pushing the dough back into a metal bowl and covering it up with a cloth. Wiping my floury hands on my apron, I follow Taehyung to the back alleyway. The sun is nearing the highest point in the sky, bearing down on us and filling my bones up with a little warmth despite the general chill in the air.

Taehyung makes his way to the opposite wall of the alley, looking around as though checking for spies before facing me. There’s no need for me to question him as to what’s going on, he can see the question clearly in my eyes.

“We have a Muster coming up in less than two days,” he begins, crossing his arms. “Jimin is going to perform on stage for the final song.”

It takes a moment for me to fully understand what that means.

“They’ll see what happened,” Taehyung continues, watching my every movement. “And I think it’ll be all too easy for people to see you and instantly accuse you. Which, they won’t be wrong. But still, it could get ugly.”

I know what he’s implying. Suddenly life will become a burning hell for the scarce few that have a severed thread. Which, by my understanding, is no more than a handful.

Immediately my thoughts go to Christina. “What about those people that have nothing to do with it but could be accused?” It would be devastating for her to think that she’d been the one to bring Jimin so much pain.

Taehyung tilts his head to one side. “You keep surprising me.” Before I can ask what he means, he continues. “That’s what we’re here for today. In order to protect those people and you, Bighit has to come up with some sort of cover story. Make it really seem like an accident. We just need to keep you out of sight while things get straightened out.”

Dread, cold as ice as just as sharp, sluices through my veins. “No.”

I can tell that this, at least, Taehyung was expecting. “You don’t have a choice-”

“So you want me to hide away forever?” I hiss, rocking back on my heels. “People will find out soon enough. And they’ll rip me to shreds!”

That cold fire from before is back and blazing in Taehyung’s eyes as he listens to my objections. “No! They won’t, that’s the whole point. They’ll understand that it was an accident-”

“Which they’ll immediately want to fix!” I shout, the sound echoing down the alleyway. “You don’t understand, no matter what you tell people, this ends up with me being forced right back where I was before.”

“And where was that?” Taehyung seethes, taking a step forward and making me stumble back. Those hawk-like eyes see how I react, but there’s no pity in them. “How horrible for you to be stuck with someone that would only love you. That would never ask for anything in return. That just wanted - wants still - nothing more than to be linked to you in any way possible.”

The confession falls flat in the face of my fear, however it’s something I know will come back to haunt me later. Instead, I allow my roaring emotions to take over even as I find that my back is now pressed against the wall.

“Of course I want that!” I shout, and Taehyung blinks. “Of course I want him! Did you want me to go to your house and grovel at his feet for forgiveness, and then teach you how to bake bread like some big happy family? Did you want me to tell you all about how the first and last thing I think about every day is Park Jimin and how I know the perfect way to hate myself for cutting this?” Throwing my hand up into the air I bite down the sobs that try to surface. “I sat and watched this thread burn not because I didn’t want him, but because I had to remove myself from his life before I could enter it.”

I can see the objection brewing in Taehyung’s mind, but I stop him.

“Jimin is not the problem,” I sigh out, utterly exhausted. “He became everything to me the second I saw him, but he is everything to everyone. I...I can’t be that. I don’t think I ever can.”

Taehyung’s eyes clear, and he looks down at me with sudden understanding. I want to lash out, writhe under that understanding, but I can’t stop the way his thoughts seemingly click together.

“I- Jolie, you’re not a puzzle that’s missing a piece. You don’t have to suddenly click into a pattern that everyone else has. You’re a human being,” Taehyung says reverently, and I wonder for a moment if someone has said this to him before. “You are allowed to just bake bread for the rest of your life, if you want. Nobody is going to ask you to stand on the stage, not even Jimin.”

“But I feel like I shouldn’t keep doing the same thing if I’m with him. I have to be more, somehow.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Taehyung admits. “Just because you’re allowed to be comfortable and hide away doesn’t mean you should. It’s tempting, I’ll give you that much.” He shrugs, still looking at me with that new light. “But you’re allowed to learn at your own pace, venture out of your comfort zone when you feel brave enough to do it. Just know this: most people never feel brave enough but do it anyway.”

“Why?”

Holding up his left hand where his deep red thread extends to the ground and through the back door, he smiles softly. “We deem the risk worth it, in the end.”

I’m just processing the fact that I had a screaming match with Taehyung when Namjoon pokes his head out into the alleyway. Both Taehyung and I turn to face him, looking guilty.

“I told you that I’d have to end up explaining everything,” he remarks drily. “Did you two manage to discuss the plan?”

Somehow, as Taehyung and I sheepishly shake our heads, I feel like I’ve made an ally in an enemy.

✂

Jolie (Elle): This is me telling you that I’m still alive, as you requested.

Me: Wow. That bad of a day? Are you going to take a nap?

Jolie (Elle): Literally as soon as I get home. I have to stop by the store and grab some cat food, Elle nearly murdered me in my sleep over it last night.

Me: I can literally feel your exhaustion through the phone.

Me: Was work ok??

Jimin has to wait a little while for a response. He just got a text from Namjoon, notifying him that they were headed to the Bighit building. When he asked him how it went with Jolie, he’d only received a vague answer.

It did nothing to calm his nerves. Especially knowing that Taehyung, even though he’d promised him that he’d stay calm, had gone in there with no shortage of wrath.

Jolie (Elle): Fine

He’d been afraid of that.

Me: 😟

Me: I’m so sorry, sounds like today has officially sucked

Jimin stares down at his phone, waiting for some sort of response.

Jolie (Elle): No need to apologize.

Jolie (Elle): It was my fault anyways.

“No,” Jimin whispers to himself, eyes wide as his fingers fly across the screen. Before he can even think about the message, he sends it. All he wants is to stop this ache in his chest that he’s sure Jolie feels as well.

Me: I wish I was there.

Three little dots appear on his screen, Jolie typing a message, but then they disappear. A moment later, they come back and a message follows.

Jolie (Elle): It’s fine, really. Texting is enough, I really appreciate it

The butterflies that erupt in Jimin’s stomach are enough to make a grown man cry, but he knows deep down that a text is not enough. Bringing his phone to his ear, he listens to the ringing. Taehyung and Namjoon walk through the door of the practice room right as Jimin begins to speak.

“Hi, I’d like to place an order.”

✂

There’s something on my porch.

I noticed the little pop of color as I began up the stairs to my apartment, carrying a grocery bag with catnip and a bar of chocolate, my excuse for a pickmeup. It wasn’t until I made it to the top of the stairs that I realized what it was that was waiting for me.

A bouquet of flowers. Hydrangeas, white and pink hydrangeas are waiting for me. They have a dewy shimmer to them, catching the sunlight just right.

Obviously, this is a mistake.

“Elle, look at these,” I coo as I shoulder open the door. Immediately the white cat appears, sniffing at the bag filled with catnip rather than the flowers. “Nooo, not that. The flowers.”

She doesn’t care about the flowers, apparently. Giving in, I gingerly set the flowers on the counter and get to work setting her food out. Once Elle is feasting away, I turn back to the flowers.

“Now, who were you supposed to be delivered to?” I hum, plucking the small envelope from amidst the arrangement. Taking a generous whiff, I close my eyes as the sweet aroma fills my senses. “Ugh, whoever they are, they’re lucky. These are absolutely beautiful, don’t you think?”

Again, Elle proves that she really couldn’t care less about the floral arrangement on the counter. Except to maybe knock it over, perhaps.

Slipping open the envelope, I take in the short message.

Jolie,

Because a text isn’t enough.

-PJM

“PJM?”I breathe out, staring at those initials with wide eyes. My breath comes up short as I reread the card again and again, flipping it over to see if there’s anything else. Some sort of clue.

“Elle, these are for us.”

The only response I get is a lazy swish of her tail, but I’m not paying attention to her anyway. All I’m looking at is that bouquet of flowers that’s meant for me after all.

Ripping my phone out of my back pocket, I open it up to my text conversation with Jaemin. Scrolling through his concerned texts, trying to see if I’m doing alright. With shaking hands, I type out the letters.

Me: PJM?

✂

“She’s not ready to know the truth,” Taehyung reports.

Jimin sits beside him on the couch, arms crossed and looking out the window with a glazed expression. The other members listen to every word that Namjoon and Taehyung are saying, finally getting a full report of the events at the bread shop.

Nevermind the fact that it’s been hours and it’s nearly midnight.

“What? That Jimin’s actually Jaemin?” Jin stretches a little, bumping into Yoongi who hardly notices. “I mean, it’s not like it’s that much of a stretch.”

Taehyung shrugs, glancing over at Jimin who has yet to say anything. “We talked-”

“Screamed,” Namjoon corrects. Jimin perks up at this.

“What were you screaming about?”

Taehyung assesses his friend, deeming him capable of receiving this information. “You. Her own insecurities. Bread.”

“Bread?” Jungkook questions, but it goes unanswered.

“Some part of her wants to be with you,” Taehyung explains, completely overlooking Jungkook’s curious expression. “But she’s freaked out. Kind of like how Jungkook mentioned before, when you first started texting. She’s so in her own head that it’s hard for her to see that you wouldn’t demand her to become some sort of celebrity.”

“She thinks that I would?” Jimin asks. He left his phone in his bedroom, deciding to leave Jolie’s simple question, PJM?, until after he’d had a chance to discuss it with everyone. He knew what she was asking. It was a deliberate choice of his to put his initials on the card rather than the fake name.

He couldn’t stomach her thinking that the flowers were from some random Jaemin, when they were in fact from him.

Her soulmate.

“No, not necessarily. She said that she feels like she would have to become something more, though. Purely because you are who you are. And I think that’s something that really scares her.”

It’s also something that Jimin doesn’t know how to fix. “If she’s not willing to get out of her own head, then how am I supposed to help her?”

Namjoon pipes up. “She seemed a lot better, though. I think, whatever she’s doing, she’s getting better. Chung-hei mentioned that she’s seeing a therapist, actually.”

Jimin sits back. “Good. That’s good.” He chews on the inside of his cheek. “What did she say about the plan?”

The plan. It wasn’t much of a plan. In reality, it was more of a precaution than anything. They all knew that everything would be a mess after Jimin goes back into the public eye, and Jolie would be at risk by just stepping foot outside her door.

“She agreed to be chauffeured,” Namjoon says. “I mean, obviously she’s not happy about it, but she said she understood.”

Jolie would be picked up in the morning and after her shift by a nondescript car driven by Bighit employees. Anytime she needed groceries, they would pick them up for her. Do anything they can to keep her out of the public eye.

“I’m kind of surprised that she agreed,” Jimin admits. “Maybe that’s a good sign?”

There’s a grumble of agreement, and soon after the boys are dispersing. Only one day left until the Muster, tomorrow was going to be busy with final rehearsals and preparations.

Jimin heads up to his room, laying on his bed and staring at the short message from hours earlier.

Jolie (Elle): PJM?

Sighing and ignoring the nerves in his stomach, Jimin just prays that all is not lost.

Me: Yes?

For now, she’s asleep. He doesn’t expect a response anytime soon. Rolling over and facing the wall, Jimin tries his best to close his eyes and let everything roll off his shoulders.

She’s bound to find out sometime.

✂

Jimin’s hands are sweaty as he paces below stage, listening to the roar of the crowd as his brothers perform above him.

The Muster came all too quickly.

Yesterday passed in a blur, consisting of Jimin checking his phone every few minutes only to find it void of any incoming messages. In his heart of hearts, he knew.

She must suspect that her newfound friend is her soulmate in disguise.

It’s with this knowledge that Jimin steps onto the lift, waiting for his brothers to finish their goodbyes before going up for the encore performance.

Looking around him, Jimin watches the staff and stage crew bustling about, preparing for the end of the Muster. Needless to say, his gaze wanders to the countless threads that overlap and lead in every direction. It’s always amazed him, how they never get tangled. How nobody ever trips over them.

Jimin has always marveled at the fact that somehow, somewhere on the other end of those threads is another person. Someone just as busy, just as oblivious to the lifeform attached to them through indescribable means.

Park Jimin has always been told that he would be the best soulmate.

He’s kind, and considerate. Loving and forgiving beyond all comprehension.

It’s something that he has believed is a lie. Every night, even before Jolie cut the very thing that tied them together, he’d lay in bed and stare at that red thread. Wondering what would happen when his soulmate was inevitable disappointed in the fact that their star-studded soulmate was just...him.

Tonight though, as the lift carries him up toward the stage and the beginning cords of “Blue & Grey” begin to play, he begins to believe.

He would be the best soulmate.

Perhaps this is the moment where he proves it. Without hatred, without envy. Without a wounded look in his eyes.

With that conviction humming in his bones, he rises to the stage and walks out under the spotlight.

The arena around him booms with sound as Jimin walks toward where his brothers sit in a semicircle. They gleam with sweat, still breathing heavily after their last performance. As Jimin takes a seat, he looks out into the crowd.

He sees the exact moment they realize what’s missing.

Or rather, hears.

That roar of the crowd, his ARMY so happily welcoming him back to the stage after his long absence, turns to deafening silence.

Into the silence, Jimin sings.

Blue & Grey plays out, Jimin raising the mic to his mouth and singing his parts with a steady voice. He waits for the end, hoping that the CG team in charge of the large screen behind him was able to carry out his request in time.

Taehyung sings the final words, his voice carrying in the quiet arena. And behind Jimin, three letters are traced out across the screen.

PJM.

As soon as the song is finished, the boys get up from their seats and make their way to the lift. They shoot Jimin curious looks as they spot his initials, but he shrugs it off for now. He can only hope that the person it was intended for saw them.

They’ve just made it to the lift when the wailing begins, the crowd having finally broken free of the spell that Blue & Grey wove over them.

“Saranghae Army!” Jimin shouts into the mic, smiling softly. The other members begin to bid them goodbye, reassuring them. They all know it will do little, already a few members of the crowd are inconsolable, but they do it nonetheless.

✂

“Twitter is blowing up right now,” Christina says, scrolling through her feed. I lay on her couch, staring at her television.

I’d come here to see if I sounded like a crazy person for taking Jaemin’s initials so seriously. However, I can’t shake the feeling of something being off.

Naturally, I’ve ignored the problem by not responding to him for a day. I’d say it’s a step up from what I’ve done in the past. At least I’m not cutting him out of my life, right?

“Isn’t it always blowing up over something?” I drawl. When I don’t get a response, I look over to see what the big deal is about.

Christina sits up in her chair, hand thrown over her mouth as her wide eyes stare at her phone.

“What? What happened?”

She shakes her head in disbelief. “I...you need to see this.” Screen-sharing with her TV, a stage replaces our episode. “He went public. It’s official.”

Ah, right. I’d also come to give Christina a fair warning about what was about to happen. Jimin going public today was the other thing occupying all of my thoughts, but I didn’t realize just how big it would be until I see the impact he had at the Muster.

Heart racing and stomach churning, I watch as Jimin appears on stage.

“Wow, that’s a statement,” Christina comments. “Doing ‘Blue & Grey’ as his comeback song?” She catches my eye, realizing who she’s speaking to. “Oh. Right.”

As Jimin settles down and Taehyung begins to sing, I find myself utterly entranced by him. He looks calm. Confident.

The world falls silent in what I assume is the moment people begin to notice that there are only six, not seven, red threads up on stage tonight.

Jimin doesn’t falter in the silence. Instead, he fills it with his voice.

“I’d forgotten,” I croak out. The rest of the words won’t come easily, but thankfully Christina understands what I mean.

“Yeah. He has a beautiful voice, doesn’t he?”

Wordlessly, we watch the rest of the performance. I can’t help but notice the fact that the cameras never pan too far so as to not see Jimin. I’m sure that they’re just as shocked as everyone else is.

As the song comes to an end, I find that somehow my eyesight has become blurry. I can’t quite tell what’s on the screen behind the boys even as Christina begins to shout.

“Look! He- he’s confirming it! Look!”

Rubbing madly at my eyes, I get a closer look at what’s on the screen. The second I see it, I stop breathing altogether.

PJM.

It wasn’t a coincidence.

“It’s him.”

Christina leans forward as the video ends, looking at me for a moment before laughing. “I mean, are we actually surprised? He didn’t try that hard to hide it, now did he? Park Jaemin, seriously?”

As much as I would love to laugh at this moment, I find that I can’t.

My new friend. The one I would scramble to read whenever I got a notification. The one that constantly checked up on me.

The one obsessed with my cat.

“How?” I breathe out.

Christina doesn’t bother to offer a reply, just watching me as the gears shift in my head. No answers are forthcoming, of course. Just the small sliver of truth that keeps on coming back.

“My soulmate is my friend,” I say. It’s obvious, but it’s important.

Jimin is my friend.

Letting out a sigh, Christina nods. “Yes. Your friend.”

The only other coherent thought that crosses my mind has me getting to my feet and slipping my jacket on over my shoulders.

“I need to go.”

“What do you mean, ‘need to go’?” Christina gets up after me, following me to the door. “Aren’t we hitting a major breakthrough right now? Your estranged soulmate is also your friend. Park Jimin isn’t just some celebrity, he’s your friend. Someone you can trust. I mean, sure, this doesn’t mean you have to barge up to his house and see him. That would be weird anyways, because then the thread would reconnect and only extend a few feet, at least, that’s what I’ve heard. It’s weird, because it’s almost like the thread has a mind of its own, you know? In order to defend itself upon reconnection, it keeps a short distance between the soulmates until it's sure they’re safe-”

“Christina.” I turn around to face her, one hand on the door. “He’s my friend, right? A good friend.”

She nods, looking a little confused. “Yeah, I thought we already established that.”

“Friends deserve an explanation, right?”

Christina blinks, looking a little nervous. “You’re not going to visit him, right? You should take the proper precautions for that, you never know how the bond with react-”

“I’m not going to see him,” I reassure her. “I’ll call you tomorrow, ok?”

Before she can question me further, I’m out the door. Keeping my head down as I head out on the main road and pass a group of teenagers, I overhear their shocked conversation.

“How does that even work, though?”

“I don’t know, but my dad’s cousin nearly had his thread cut-”

“I bet it’s all for publicity,” another remarks. “Don’t know why they need it, though.”

“Why would they cut a thread for publicity? Idiot, it’s probably CG. Maybe they did it to raise awareness or something.”

I don’t get to hear how their conversation ends before a black SUV pulls off to the side of the road and a woman sticks her head out of the window.

“Hey,” she flashes the ID hanging around her neck. I recognize it as a Bighit ID. “Operation Chauffeur is in full effect now. Hop in.”

It’s unsettling how they found me so quickly, but I distinctly remember agreeing to this plan just a couple of days ago. Sliding into the backseat, I ask the driver to take me home.

“Your name is Jolie?” The woman asks, hands on the steering wheel.

“Yes.”

“I’m Sunmi. Looks like we’ll be spending a lot of time together.”

✂

As I finally bid Sunmi goodnight - she’s oddly friendly for a Bighit staff member that’s typically charged with driving BTS around - I stumble into my apartment and head straight toward my room. Elle hasn’t arrived back home yet, probably still out on her nightly jaunt.

Which, apparently included Jimin without me even knowing it.

Flipping the light on to my room, I see that the Seoul City Electric envelope is exactly where I left it.

Sitting down at my desk and finding an empty page in a notebook, I take a deep breath.

Once I exhale, I begin to write.

And write.

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2021fuckitup · 3 years

Text

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-You can get MUCH bigger hits

-You can avoid burning it so much easier than with other flames

-No flickering flame

-Butane refills are cheap as fucking shit (I got a hairspray-sized bottle of Zippo butane for the price of 2 disposable lighters)

-Don’t burn your thumb as much

-Sessions can be initiated and/or finished faster

Downsides-If you don’t pay attention, you can burn the shit out of your product, or yourself. BE CAREFUL, PAY ATTENTION, AND BE PATIENT

-Smoke through your stash quicker

-Possibly worse burns because its hotter than a bic

How to smoke meth with torch lighter for beginners:

1)First ensure that your pipe is clean.

Why?

For the ice to smoke properly. DO NOT load fresh product in a pipe with product that has been smoked, burned, or otherwise heated. If you load fresh on top of a still smokable bowl, the new and old will melt/smoke at different speeds/temperatures (can’t remember which is which right now, but I think old smokes faster), ensuing that it is very difficult to evenly heat the product. Then you get spots where part of the crystalized mass liquifies and will move with the flame, but some of it needs more heat, and for me at least, some always gets burned or darkened, and has a bad taste. If you load fresh product in a pipe with burnt shit in there, IT WILL TASTE LIKE SHIT. It will often also not melt/smoke right, AND your new stuff will taste like burnt stuff, which is THE WORST taste in the world (IM0). (FYI-I’ve heard that blowing cigarette smoke through a oil pipe (like you were going to hit it, but exhaling smoke through it instead) removes the taste. I have tried with pot smoke and it didn’t work, but have read many people say that cigarettes work.

How to Clean the Inside of A Pipe-If it is not clean, a very easy method is to fill a microwavable container (like a coffee mug) with 50% water, 50% bleach, and put the pipe (bowl facing downwards) in the water.

-Put it in the microwave for 4 minutes (yes, seriously that long-I tried after 1, 2, and 3 minutes and it didn’t work. May even take 5.)

-Let cool. Once cooled, remove from mug and drain all water.

-Using Q-tips, insert through carb hole and “mop up” the stuff left in the bowl. This may take several qtips depending on the bowl. If there is still black/brown stuff in the bowl, apply more pressure

(be careful not to break the bowl by pressing the q tip too hard on the sphere, OR accidentally pressing on the side of the carb when trying to reach around inside with q tip.) If there is still stuff in there, I have read that small bits of Magic Eraser stuffed in, and manipulated with a pole (like a q tip) work wonders, but also have not tried.

How to Clean the Outside of a PiPE

-Using a wet rag, or balled-up wet paper towels/toilet paper/napkins/etc, rub the outside of the bowl. This should cause the stuff on the outside to transfer onto the paper.

-If this doesn’t work, steel wool may work.

Handling/Prepping Product

-Dont handle meth by hand. It’s bad for your skin, and little amounts will dissolve. Instead, use:

Ideally: a 7/11 straw (this is a straw whose last inch or so is a scoop, sometimes used for slurpees or w/e those frozen drinks are; these straws I have found to be ideal for handling all sorts of drugs).

Realistically: Normal Straw: Straw been sealed on one end (tape, seal it with flame), and on the other has a 45 degree angle (45 degree is diagonal; if you cut a square in half diagonally, the diagonal line is 45). This allows you to scoop small fragments out of a bag, tin, or other carrying device easily, as the angled mouth scoops up crumbs, especially in corners of bags; while the sealed back prevents any from accidentally spilling.

Size/Shape

-Make sure your product is all of the same consistency. I find it best to use one crystal, preferably large (but not to large). I find the size of a tic tac, or slightly larger, to be ideal. Also, cubic or rectangular is best possible shape IME. I will often break long, skinny crystals because they dont burn as well as more square ones, and broken into small squares, they will smoke more evenly.

-While you can load bigger crystals with smaller bits/shake, I generally find it is best to load similar sized rocks. That is, load all shake, load two or three crystals of equal size, or put one crystal in there (usually a big one).

-If you need to break a crystal into smaller bits to make equal sized crystals (or to make odd shaped crystal more square), place a sanitary, nonabsorbent material on top of/around the crystal (no dollars bills here, printer paper works great.) and either snap it in two, or push against a surface. If pressing, you can use a finger, debit card, whatever, just slowly apply more pressure so you can crush to consistency of your liking. If you crush it all the way, you have shake(aka powder).

Differences Between Methods

Single Crystal (often large): Crystal will slowly lose mass as it melts, evenly becoming a pool (as long as you thoroughly spread it around the bowl).

Multiple Little Ones: If you evenly heat them: Will slowly melt into each other. Will be left with a very spread-out puddle, possibly multiple spread out ones.

If unevenly heated: There will be areas meth of varying thickness, accompanied by uneven melting and probable darkening/burning,.

Shake: Will liquify very quickly; little bits that haven’t yet been heated may go to weird parts of the bowl when you begin twisting, so you end up with tiny blotches and a single large or a few smaller puddles.

Loading Product

-Using straw, scoop your product into the chamber. Keeping upright, grab oil pipe and tilt at an angle so that the carb is pointing sideways, or angled down slightly. This will allow you to insert straw opening into carb before tipping the straw, ensuring you don’t miss the hole and lose any.

-Once inserted, twist pipe (while holding onto straw of course) until carb is once again pointing up. Tap straw to get all the little bits into the pipe (if meth is still sticking, use a scraper of some kind).

-Remove straw, and put pipe on level surface, BETWEEN TWO OBJECTS. THE PIPE WILL ROLL PEOPLE, AND WILL SPILL ALL YOUR GODDAMN PRODUCT AND/OR FALL ON THE FLOOR AND BREAK. UGH!

Now that you have a loaded pipe, ensure that you are ready to begin. Suggestions include

-Water

(lots of it!!) Both meth and smoking dehydrate you, and the more dehydrated you are, the more you will suffer from dental damage and brain damage (neurotoxicity). A large amount of methamphetamine neurotoxicity (and most dopamine toxicity) is temperature-dependent, as it often induces hyperthermia (This is similar to MDMA, aka XTC, Molly, rolls, etc). Water cools your body.

You should be urinating with irritating frequency, and should be voiding clear urine, otherwise you are already dehydrated (unless taking assloads of vitamins or something).

-Music

I can’t even describe how much music enhances the experience of smoking meth. It synergizes well-the meth makes the music sound insane, and in turn the music intensifies the high, making me feel even more intelligent/strong/attractive/cool/special. This is the part of the high I crave, and it rarely occurs (at least with the intensity I like) without music.

-Spare lighter/butane refill

When smoking meth, you are always running out of fuel. The spare lighter is also useful because lighters get really hot when ignited for long periods of time (like when smoking meth) and you can swap them out.

-Wet (but not sopping) rag or bundled tissues/paper towels/toilet paper/etc

This is to set the pipe on when not using it (a hot pipe will burn fabrics, fucking up whatever its on as well as the pipe), and to cool down the pipe after a hit. The pipe stays hot for a while, and if you don’t hit it, drugs are being lost/wasted. If you cool the pipe, it will stop heating the drugs faster (duh). Do not do this immediately after getting the pipe really hot-heat and cold on glass can break it. Wait for it to cool slightly, then use it.

When you use the rag to cool underneath liquified dope, it will emit a lot of smoke while crystalizing I read somewhere that the meth actually vaporizes/produces smoke when it hits cooler surface, but I don’t know the validity of that. I do know that cold makes it smoke more though.

-Salt Water

Swishing and gargling salt water while smoking meth (ie after a hit, and definitely after a session) will help prevent canker sores, help kill bacteria (which will inhibit meth mouth) clear mucus in back of throat (which will build up from smoking ice, and may possibly absorb some of it), and prevent sore throat. Its really easy-just add table salt to water (not too much). Some people say to use hot water, but there is more bacteria in hot water pipes, so I use cold.

-Biotene Products

These are oral healthcare products designed to combat dry mouth. There is an oral gel that you kind of spread in your mouth and coats it to act like a artificial saliva. It tastes kinda bad (not awful) and feels weird, but it beats dry/cracking skin, and is good for oral health. They also make alcohol-free (alcohol makes dry mouth worse) mouthwash that I find makes me produce a bnch of saliva for like 10-30 minutes, which can be helpful. They have toothpaste, but that is only to not irritate dry mouth. Finally, they have oral mouthspray, which is apparently the best, but I have not tried yet.

-Weed

Weed makes meth smoking more fun I find. Its hard to describe. Go slow as you may have negative anxiety reaction

Positioning:

The pipe will need to be twisted back and forth, so for me, I hold it in the middle of the stem between my middle finger and thumb. This allows me to easily roll the pipe back and forth. The carb is facing the sky/ceiling, and I have the pipe slanted, so the bowl is slightly closer to the floor than the mouthpiece. This allows me to put my index finger over the mouthpiece. so that when I first heat up the bowl all the initial smoke (that you will not yet inhale because it is not super thick and you want to build up a good hit) goes up the stem and is trapped by my finger rather than out through the little carb hole (which it will do when the stem is filled with smoke). Finally, it also allows me to use my pinky to cover the carb (I rarely do this because often the carb is hot).

Lighter

[Torch] Lighter is held in the other hand, underneath the dope in the bowl. Adjust your flame to lowest setting (if you can). While initially hitting the bowl, since your mouth is not on the mouthpiece, you can hold the pipe in front of you while you heat to gaug distance between flame and bowl, and make sure the flame is under the drugs. However, once you begin inhaling, you have a much worse view (through the bowl), and it is easy to hold the lighter too close (or far, but usually close), or to have it not even under the bowl. Due to poor depth perception (which I assume is from the drugs), or some visual warping from the curvature of the glass, its really easy to do this, and happens a lot. A mirror is helpful so you can see yourself. Another option is attaching flexible tubing (like aquarium tubing) to the mouthpiece so you can inhale through that while holding the pipe in front of you. This will also enable you to make meth bongs (search it).

Philosophy of Smoking Meth

Meth becomes a clear liquid when heated, then vaporizes into a white smoke. The idea is to heat whatever you placei n the pipe evenly so that it all melts down to liquid, then, by twisting the pipe, spread the liquid all around the bowl, so that it doesn’t stay in a hot place for too long and burn. Once liquified, the pipe can be twisted. This allows you to put your flame ahead of the liquid (think of the liquid chasing the flame), so that once the glass is heated, it will fall/roll down the curve towards your lighter and smoke. As you get close carb, you begin to twist the other way, keeping the liquid following your flame. However, with a torch lighter, you can soon twist the pipe without the flame and the liquid will still run for a while, and when it doesn’t is when you reapply the flame.

Quick Info On Torch Lighters

Torch lighters are very hot, much hotter than bics. Their flame is much more intense, and the heat above is much hotter than a bic. Therefore, you must keep much more distance between your lighter and pipe than with a bic. It will vary according to lighter type, pipe thickness, and especially flame size; but my flame is maybe between 1/3 and ½ of an inch, and my lighter stays 1-3 inches away from the pipe; with me increasing distance the longer its lit.

-Also, you do not heat the bowl with a torch lighter for long periods of time like you do a bic. Once it begins to smoke, quit using the lighter, and only reapply once the liquid quits moving when you twist the pipe. Also, be sure to twist pipe while lighting the whole time with a torch lighter, even if it is slowly. You cannot really get away with heating in one spot for a short period of time like you can with a bic.

Smoking

Premelt:

-Keeping your flame 1-2 inches below the bowl, roll flame in a circle around the perimeter of your product, so the outermost portion begins to liquify. Remember to continue moving the flame.

-As it begins to liquify, begin twisting the pipe back and forth. You want to heat the edges of the product and then the glass adjacent to the edges to make it flow there. However, when reversing the direction of the twist, make sure to heat the inside/middle for a moment as well so that it will melt once the dope bordering it has melted.

-Eventually you will have a puddle of liquid that is mobile-stop heating! COntinue to twist the pipe to spread the stuff around and wait for it to recrystalize (turn back into a liquid). You can speed this up by touching pipe with damp rag/paper towels/etc, but I like to let it cool by itself the first time. Wait for the pipe to cool down-its worth it.

Smoking

(this is assuming you are covering the mouthpiece and have the pipe angled like I mentioned in positioning)

-Now you should have a thin puddle of clear crystals stuff. Once again, heat with flame around the perimeter (much bigger this time, but it will also melt faster now because its thinner). Once melted, it should soon begin to smoke. Cease lighting once it begins smoking a fair bit and continue to twist.

-Because you have your finger over the mouthpiece and the pipe angled, the hot vapor will travel up the stem, and be trapped. Once vapor begins to emerge out of the carb hole, quickly take your finger off the stem and begin inhaling (do this quick because the stem is filled with vapor).

To Inhale:

You do not need to actually suck most of the time. With the pipe angled, simply forming a seal on the mouthpiece is usually enough, and if you have to inhale, do not suck like smoking. Instead, inhale like you are breathing but VERY slowly/softly. It takes very little pressure and the bigger hit you get, the better IMO.

Reheating

Use the torch for very brief periods of time. Once the liquid is moving and smoking agian, stop. You can also use more, but never use less once its burned.

Finishing your hit:

If your lungs are full and it is still smoking, cover the carb and mouthpiece and continue twisting. I like to hold my hits for 4-8 seconds, some say blow out right away, but I dont like that. You can also use a damp rag or damp paper towels/toilet paper/napkins/etc and wipe the bowl, to cool it down and make the liquid recrystalize faster (dont do this when the bowl is still super hot because it can break it). This will make it smoke a lot for a second so I like to do it while inhaling.

For Experienced Users:I have found the torch lighter to be far superior to the bic. With the bic, I would experience uneven and slow heating/melting. Now, I have almost instantaneous liquification, followed by thick smoke, and as long as I use the torch sparingly, no darkening of product. The trick is to be patient and methodical:

-Use the torch 1-3 inches away from the bowl

-Move it quickly

-“Encourage” the liquid to trael all over the bowl by leading it with the flame

-Use inward swirling movements, especially during the melting phase

-I recommend using single, squareish crystals for this.

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

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masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

Two chapters over the weekend because I was ✨ inspired ✨ and my neighbors can't stop fucking (noisily!) and I'm,,, envious.

Strange adventures in Hell. There are descriptions of desperation and doom, lots of magic and - hear me out - forced/reluctant hand holding 😌 Oh my God, they held hands!!!

"What. Were. You. Thinking?!" Strange was seething, his enormous figure and broader height towered over me, the blood-red of his cape vibrating, the only spleck of colour in the grey and dusty dark world.

"I had no choice in the matter," I replied as calmly as I managed, gritting my teeth, memories of our past stand-off fresh in my mind. We could have bickered until the end, until one of the beasts flying overhead spotted us and decorated the bleary grounds of this forsaken planet with the crimsons of our life blood. "I think it's best if we get to safety first, argue later. I have no desire to become somebody's lunch."

That much was true: I had taken a good look at our surroundings as soon as I recovered from the vacuum-like sensation of being pulled into a magical gateway; the visibility was terrible, the planet's natural light very scarce. Several suns were hardly visible in the sky, their rays barely penetrating the mists and the ashes freely floating in the air.

There was oxygen even if breathing in a full lungful seemed impossible; I tried not to think about the contents of the air, or the possibility of radiation poisoning, as the multiple amulets and charms seared into my skin where they rested under my clothes. I had four bottles of water, some bandages and salves and a sacrifice for a single ritual to my name and absolutely no conviction that Mother Earth would be able to hear the call of an earthling gone so astray.

But it was hope, so I held on.

"Fine," Stephen sighed, suddenly looking tired and weary, glancing around with furrowed brows. "Let's see if I can open a portal," his hands did that complicated set of gestures that I'd grown to associate with a golden circle and sparks on the ground. The thing flickered, once, twice, before disappearing, as if the Sorcerer's magic had run out of batteries. "Yeah, I thought so," he whispered to himself, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"The bad news first, please," I interpreted his hesitation with a realistic outlook on our predicament.

"I can't open a portal just anywhere on this planet. We need to find a... Rift, of sorts," the man was anxiously looking around. "And those things, they'll smell us... Right about now," his eyes shot up at a winged, rapidly approaching shadow. "No good news, I'm afraid."

I allowed myself a small sigh of disappointment, keeping a tight leash on the panic slowly creeping up my body. The feeling of determination, the power of Gaia within me was still present, laying in a cozy dormant ball slightly south of my solar plexus. "Give me your hand, please," I reached out to Stephen only for him to promptly recoil.

"You should've thought about the consequences of your actions, I'm not going to hold your hand because you're scared shitless," his words were sharp but they lacked the venom. He wouldn't, or couldn't, meet my eyes.

"I know you have scarred hands. I'm a healer and you don't have to feel embarrassed or ashamed I, I've seen worse," I stated in my best 'mutant nurse' voice as Stephen's eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened. "Those things can't sense me. And I know they won't be able to sense you too if we have skin-to-skin contact. So unless you want me to get under your... Robes," I gestured to the layers upon layers of clothing he had wrapped himself in. I considered the possibility of his whole body being covered in scars, too, and couldn't help the pang of sympathy. "Take one glove off and give me your damn hand before this trip to Jurassic Park goes full pterodactyl massacre!"

I saw the thing in the sky open it's mouth - but no sound came out, the clouds reducing it's outline to a vaguely triangular shadow. There was something very unusual about this planet's atmosphere.

With a couple of jerky movements, Stephen slid off the glove from his left hand, looking away as his large, dry, warm palm encompassed mine in a gentle, trembling grip. It made no sense to interlace our fingers, so I help onto him like a child holds onto their parent; the size difference of our hands and his imposing aura surely made me feel like one.

We stood a foot apart, watching the shadow in the sky begin to circle the place we stood in, it's gaping maw opening again and again, before it zigzagged across the sky with a strong dash of confusion, it's graceful glide becoming a series of rapid turns and twists. With a final inaudible shriek, it flew off into the dusty greys of the horizon, becoming a dark spot far away in mere seconds.

The silence was so loud in this world. Like the eerie stillness of my, undoubtedly haunted, apartment, I was eager to dissipate it with something beyond our combined heavy breathing. "Please don't tell Tony," I timidly gave our touching hands a sway. "He'll never leave it alone."

A chuffing noise coming from above had me whip my head up to see Stephen holding in a puff of nervous laughter; his shoulders dropped slightly as he eyed me in turn. "What makes you think I won't tease you about it?"

"You wouldn't dare," I took mock offense, rising my leaking nose to the skies.

The grumble and the eyeroll I expected, the smirk that faded into a ghost of a smile I did not. "We should go. Usually there is a rift within a few miles of every location everywhere," he tried to keep the content expression as he spoke but the storm in his eyes betrayed his concern. They were so blue, I felt like I was drowning.

I let myself to be tugged in a direction - everything seemed exactly the same, a never-ending ashen wasteland with the occasional dark grey rock that crumbled to dust as soon as the heel of my shoe touched it. My light blue sweater quickly became the colour of rotten wood, a sickly, dull monotone between brown and gray.

The complete lack of any kind of natural noise brought out the desolation of this wretched place; if we gripped each other's hands tighter, neither of us chose to acknowledge it. It was too easy to get lost in your own mind when the surroundings were dead set on rebuking anything that was in any shape or form alive.

I caught myself thinking that this must be what people think Hell should look like.

Strange walked briskly for the most part, periodically clearing his throat and eyeing me when I struggled to keep up with his long strides. It could have been an hour, or maybe two, of aimless wandering and rapidly imploding portals accompanied by Stephen's increasingly overcast face before I made the man stop and offered him a water bottle, which he insisted we split between us two.

It didn't take me a tarot reading to figure out our chances were grim. Needless, I gave him the same look I give to injured, scared mutant children when they come to the bodega for the first time; a look of quiet temperance.

And then we walked, and walked again, as Stephen grew moodier and moodier, marching on with the force of a seasoned soldier, only taking breaks when I forced him to stand still and breathe with me. As cautious and closed-off as he was, I pressed onto the fact of me being a healer of sorts, and he relented if briefly, always reluctant, always seasoned by a great dose of bewilderment.

"Do you feel that?" Stephen's stride halted, both feet firmly planted on the ground.

The ground had tremors had coming from deep within, small shocks that could have been easily missed if not for the complete lack of sound on this world. My nod was mute, I didn't trust my voice not to break when I clearly knew there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, endless fields of nothing all around us.

"Hold onto me," promptly, I was grabbed and pushed into his chest, his long arms easily picking me up, encouraging me to wrap my legs around his waist. "Hold tight, I might need my hands," my face grew hot as I wound my arms around Stephen's neck, clinging to him like a monkey, a palm resting on the soft fine hairs if his nape. It felt too intimate somehow, in the wake of imminent danger.

The Cape that previously swayed behind him in rhythm with his steps billowed, the red fabric of it tough as it levitated us a few feet above the ground. I felt Stephen tense with each tremor; within moments, the surface shook and stuttered more and more, cracks appearing in between the dust, turning the plains into a marble-patterned patch of darkness.

We rose above it, high enough that I could see the veins resulting from the quake stretch far out into the wasteland, jagged, abrupt lines of even more concentrated darkness. And as quickly as the quake started, it was over, leaving little evidence as the ground settled.

Stephen floated us to a larger patch of the ground, criss-crossed with thinner, less prominent lines, poking the ground with his foot before allowing it to fully bear our weight. He was shaken, there was no doubt. "That was... Something," he stated lowly.

"Mhm," I hummed, fighting the urge to frantically look around, forcing my hand from clutching at his palm like a lifeline. I had decided on a plan while I was busy playing baby koala - not that there were many other options except to wander these god forsaken bare badlands until our painful demise. "Listen, Strange, I'm aware you don't hold my people in particularly high regard but you're going to have to trust me on this," my words came out derisive as I placed his palm on the back of my neck and kneeled, forcing him to do the same behind me.

The contents of my bag greeted me grimly with out last bottle of water and the couple knick-knacks that gathered the black dust on them. I hastily poured the water into a bowl, dipping my fingers in it, and added the crushed bones to the mixture.

The time that was required to make a paste-like mixture, I used to address a bewildered Stephen. "This is a last resort. I don't know if it will work, we're not on Earth," I briefly breathed my distress. "I don't even know how far we are from home. But I refuse to die here, in this grotesque Hell, without putting up a fight and Gaia has always looked out for her flock. I might get very, very sick if this is successful."

The warning had him attempt to object before he cast a long look around us, shoulders sagging, as motioned for me to continue, those piercing blue eyes boring into my face. "Tell me what do I need to do," his voice quietly attempted to soothe my very obvious fear.

I was terrified, both of dying, nameless, faceles in this world full of Nothing; the prospect of withering away after depleting all my resources was, perhaps, equally unappealing, but dying on my home planet sounded better than dying here. "Have faith," I replied curtly, beginning to chant softly under my breath as soon as Stephen's expression hardened.

My eyelids grew heavy, limbs filling with lead and molten lava as I summoned the forces of Mother itself; my body was aching, exhausted by answering her call as it was. The warm ball in my chest that previously comforted me grew, spreading its smelten power through every vein, every vessel. No part of my body was left cold. A sense of purpose filled me, pushing me forward, driving me to move, to run, to leap.

"This way," even to my own ears, my voice sounded pained. It felt as if I was walking through swamp waters, full of clay and debris, each step taking my barely coherent form through an individual bog full of pins and needles. The force of Mother Nature burned inside of me, enraged at the state of her surroundings.

Stephen spoke to me but all I could hear was mumbling, thousands of voices, low and shrill, unintelligible to the human mind. I could feel the sorcerer's pain; the itch and burn in his throat, the constant, dull throb in his scarred, broken hands. His hand in mine only intensified the situation and I fought with his injuries like I fought with the black dots in my eyes, I forced down the unpleasant sensations, setting fire to them, letting the reigns of control on the raging inferno within me slip just the smallest, tiniest bit.

The steps of his long feet stuttered as I felt the discomfort lessen yet I simply towed him along. Time leaked through the cracks in my eyes, which were mostly unseeing anyways. The useless things grew blind at some point, not that I noticed it on the greys and blacks of the surrounding scenery. It was harder to walk, my breathing grew laboured with the extertion as we finally reached the place that felt right.

"Here," I rasped, voice so quiet it could have been mistaken for a breeze. I craved to feel it; the soft puffs of wind, the sound of running water. I had called for Earth and she demanded its child back.

The portal appeared without a stutter even though Stephen's hands shook; I saw the uneven channels, the energies traveling through them at an uneven pace. As soon as I pushed through the wormhole, coming to my senses in an unfamiliar, light room, I fell to my knees.

Stephen's pained moaning told me he was probably experiencing the same stinging, burning sensation on his skin; my eyes, they were the worst - my eyeballs felt like they were melting, leaking out of my sockets into thick, gelatinous tears streaming down my face. I blindly groped for the sorcerer's hand, directing the forces within me to soothe his hurts much like I had done in the wastelands.

"Strange?!" A masculine, shocked voice exclaimed before footsteps crashed into my sensitive ears with the force of an elephant herd. "Oh my God, they're here! Tony, come!"

"Stop fucking screaming," Stephen gasped out as I felt him curl into himself.

"Friday, scan them," I recognised Tony's voice, the tiredness and desperation standing out in it more than it did in the rest of the whispers in the room.

"They appear to be experiencing a sensory overload. I would recommend to engage Peter's Cooldown mode," the mechanical voice replied, barely audible. The noise still grated on my ears after spending... How long were we gone?

"Do it, Fri," Tony's soft footsteps reached us; I smelled the spices of his cologne next to my and Stephen's prone forms. "You gave us a scare there," the tone was admonishing but gentle.

"We were scared shitless ourselves," I attempted to speak, only now noticing how grating my voice sounded. "We were in Hell," I mumbled to myself, slowly removing my hand from Stephen.

"That," he coughed up the word, breathing through his nose before speaking again, his voice sounding much better than mine. "That place was as close as possible to biblical pits I have ever seen," there was shuffling and gentle murmurs as the two men ensured each other of their presence and well-being.

The burning sensations receded back to my core, the embers of the fires dying out, leaving me feeling like deflated beach ball, all shell and no filling. With a groan, I rolled over onto my back right in the middle of the pristine carpet on the floor, forcing my eyes open and breathing through the pain until I could somewhat see the champagne coloured ceiling without black dots obstructing my vision.

Shuffling noises reached my ears as a familiar round face with light red hair came into my line of sight, Wanda's gentle features concerned. "Star, do you need to go to medical?" She eyed me almost suspiciously but the question was earnest.

The idea of a doctor fixing a magical burnout was bizarre to me, as if it ever was that easy; I chortled sardonically. "No, Wanda, there's nothing wrong with me that a doctor would be able to fix," I replied honestly. "I should call Odette."

"I've called, she said to notify her when you return," Sam's voice was gentle as he approached. I could feel him glaring daggers at a rapidly reddening Wanda. "She was the one who said you'll definitely come back," he offered me his hand.

I had to choke down a moan of relief as I grabbed it. The warmth, the life of another human being, the precious gift of a beating pulse under my fingertips was divine. "You should listen to her. She knows her stuff." It was easy, talking to Sam as if he was an old friend. He had one of the most pleasant auras I've seen on a human being.

"I'm a doctor," Stephen suddenly perched up, sounding almost bashful. "And I can aid the healing process," he stated over Tony's disgruntled mumbling. "If you can explain to me how the hell you managed to hold a... an entire sun's worth of energy!" The more he spoke the more bewildered he became, tone growing in pitch, ending the sentence with an exclamation.

"I don't know," I replied with a sigh. The whole indignation in this man, I was not prepared to face. "When I took this up," I gestured vaguely to the burned, bent metal adornments I began to remove off my body. "I thought I was going to get an increase in tips and a better outlook on life. Help my friend with her asthma as much so she wouldn't have to use her inhaler every time she gets suprised or scared," my jewelry hit the floor with a dull clank, piling up into bent silver I wouldn't even be able to cleanse and repurpose.

Sam whistled lowly, poking at a necklace that had twisted on itself, a grotesque spiral of dull ashen grey.

"I certainly didn't think that a bleeding mutant accepting his fate as cannon fodder will call for the Earth itself," my tone grew vicious. Exhaustion was nesting in my bones. "And that Mother Nature would take over my body, pour lava into my veins and bleed recklessness into my thoughts. But here I am, freshly out of Hell and alive and kicking."

A stunned silence was interrupted by Tony's frantic whispering. "You are not leaving my penthouse for the foreseeable future," as the weight of the incident set on him. The knuckles of his hand clutching Stephen's dirty tunic turned white.

"I am," Stephen eyed me with a strange look in his eye, as if he was seeing me for the first time. His eyes then turned to Tony, who'd began rambling, arguing with Stephen. The sorcerer stopped the word vomit with a grim confession. "I'd be dead if not for Starlight. I'd be meat and bone, splattered across a barren, radioactive land in the deepest, darkest pits of the universe."

I felt my face droop in slow-motion. My throat flexed, swallowing a thick lump of filthy mucus, I coughed up, "Ra-radioctive?" As soon as I could work my voice without it squeaking.

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins2 @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox

#practical alchemy #bun writes #stephen strange x reader #tony stark x reader #stephen strange x reader x tony stark #tony stark x reader x stephen strange #im zoomin with a bag full of creepy

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bettsfic · 3 years

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february pinned: the real & the ideal

in this month’s edition of my lowkey writing-related newsletter, in addition to my writing-related post roundup and consultation availability, i have short story recommendations for you and an essay on the nature of reality in fiction!

if you want to receive my lowkey writing-related newsletter directly, you can subscribe here.

in other news, i finished two fics this month:

digging for orchids (hualian, 43k, explicit, fake marriage au)

let ruin end here (hualian, 8k, mature, neighbors au)

full newsletter below the cut, or you can read it here.

oof,

what a month. january is already a rough time. throwing in a pandemic, a coup, and an economic revolution spearheaded by reddit just seems unfair. as for me personally, the spring semester came at me fast and even though it’s only week 2, i am already buried in grading. which i realize is my fault, considering i’m the one who assigned homework.

so after hearing your feedback, i thought i’d make this newsletter even more writing-related by writing more about writing. this month i’ll start off by talking about the nature of reality in fiction in a segment i call “been thinkin a lot about.” more on that below.

new resource

i’ve compiled a folder of PDFs of the short stories i teach most often, which is to say, the stories i like enough to re-read every semester. most of them are literary fiction but a few veer into fantasy, sci fi, and horror.

i know before the MFA, i didn’t really know what a short story was. like i knew, abstractly, the concept of a short story (it is as it sounds), but i could only list a couple i’d ever read as an adult, and i hadn’t read anything that had been published in the last decade. i remember wondering why i was even being asked to care about short stories. who writes short stories? who reads them? apparently, a lot of people. short storyists are a lot like fanwriters in that they make no money and when you talk about your writing in public, people give you that “why would anyone waste their time with that?” look.

so here’s why i was asked to care about short stories: a good short story gives you the entirety of a world in a very condensed space. moreover, it can sometimes leave you as satisfied as a novel in a fraction of the reading time. all the stories i’ve compiled here are ones that stuck with me, that i find myself recommending over and over to writers who want a good example of developing character, or weird narration, or establishing stakes.

if you’re a writer considering publication or an MFA in creative writing, i highly recommend familiarizing yourself with short stories, if for no other reason than to get the feel for them so you can write some of your own. if you can get a few short story publications under your belt, it’ll be easier to open doors when you’re ready to query agents for a novel. also, short stories make a great writing sample for grad programs, workshops, fellowships, residencies, and grant funding.

if you want to check out more short stories but have no idea where to start, the 2020 best american short stories just dropped in november, or if you want a cheaper one, used copies of 2019 and earlier are available on thriftbooks. if you want an overview of the history of the (american) short story, there’s also the best american short stories of the century. fair warning, though, while it’s more diverse than expected, it’s still a bit heavy on dead-white-dude writing.

content warning: the stories in the above-linked folder may depict instances of sexual assault, suicide, and/or abuse. i have not labeled them individually with warnings but i hope to soon, as well as provide a catalog with summaries.

i’m also still working on my essay and novel recs. more to come on that hopefully next month.

writing-related posts

how i quit my banking job to do a creative writing MFA

how i learned to read faster/stop subvocalizing

how to write when you have no time or energy to write

my experience writing fic in small/dead fandoms (aka fics that will probably not get any traffic)

how to describe facial expressions

how to ask for help from your professors

how to navigate tenses during flashbacks

how to separate yourself from your work

how (and why you might want to) write a shitty first draft

why you should consider making the climax the inciting incident

for a complete list of my writing-related posts, check out this masterdoc (which i still need to update it with the past few months’ posts).

stuff i’m into rn

i’m about halfway through the rhetoric of fiction by wayne c. booth which has more or less become my narrative bible. it’s a little dated (1961) but it tackles banal writing adages that are somehow still believed, like “show don’t tell” and whatnot, and breaks them down with amazing insight, clarity, and research. it’s a bit of a dense text so i’m only reading a few pages a day, i think the first time i’ve ever let myself read something so intentionally slowly. now i’m kind of obsessed with doing things slowly. reading slowly, writing slowly, cooking slowly. i even drive slowly, because it’s so rare to go anywhere at all, and i want to enjoy it. also, it’s very snowy where i am. also also, the battery died in my car this month and i really have to make it a point to drive more often.

february availability

i have 2 openings for initial writing consultations in february! if you’re interested, please fill out this google form.

you can learn more about my services on my carrd.

been thinkin a lot about

compulsory reality in fiction. many of us have probably received feedback along the lines of, or thought to ourselves as we read, “that’s not realistic.” many of us believe, consciously or not, that fiction that is more “realistic” is inherently better than fiction that is less “realistic.” for some of us, real means a saturation of details, the clear depiction of the surfaces of things. reality is found in the rendering thereof; if you can “see” it, it’s real. for others of us, it might be the development of complex characters and their growth across a narrative. and for yet others, reality is subtlety, or misery, or the idea of “slice of life,” a term i don’t think means anything, because aren’t all stories a slice of a character’s life? what would a story that’s not a slice of life look like? you’d either have to take away the “slice” part and render a whole life, which is impossible, or you’d have to take away the “life” part and create a dead story, which may be possible, but why would you want to? even if you wrote a story about a rock, the rock would be brought to life by virtue of being written about.

anyway. i think the word “real” is a shitty word for the same reason “slice of life” is a shitty phrase: everything is real and therefore nothing cannot be real. slices of life are all we know because we are alive and cannot truly perceive not being alive; reality is also all we know, and any depictions beyond reality are thus made real because they have been depicted.

so the “goal” for fiction to be “realistic” seems to me to be a false one. all fiction is real because it exists and no fiction can be truly real because it’s only a facsimile of reality. not to get all “this is not a pipe” but writing is just making squiggles, and we as a community of English-knowers agree that certain squiggles correspond to certain sounds, and certain sounds together make words which conjure meanings. and words put together into sentences into paragraphs conjure even more complicated meanings. and when those paragraphs are woven into narrative we create yet more and more complicated meaning.

every time you write anything — a text message, an email, a tweet, a fanfic — you are taking the infinite abstraction of your own cognition, narrowing it into a single concept, and representing that concept with patterns in the form of sounds represented by letters and given meaning with words, so that the infinite abstraction of your own conscience can be fractionally witnessed by the infinite abstraction of someone else’s. and even though we can’t definitively prove for ourselves that any other thing possesses a consciousness, writing shows us the shape of someone else’s mind, and tells us we are not alone.

and yet we still expect writing to be “real.”

have you ever read a story where a character sneezed? like just, a description of a sneeze for the sake of it, with no purpose or function in the plot? if not, is it because our characters aren’t real enough to sneeze, or because the sneeze isn’t relevant to their plight? what would a written sneeze look like, and why would somebody want to write it? moreover, why would somebody want to read it? that leads me to wonder, do we depict reality in the service of narrative, or narrative in the service of reality? in other words, do we write to portray reality (sans sneezing), or do we depict reality to constrain our writing, the way one might request bumpers when bowling so as not to fall in the gutters?

i’ve never read an artful rendition of a character pissing or shitting, either, even when those things are related to a character’s plight and circumstance — stories involving long road trips, living in the woods, being kidnapped. the only exception i can think of is when those things are eroticized (we do not kinkshame here in this lkwrnl), the same way it’s rare to find detailed sex writing that isn’t for the purpose of reader arousal. are there just some things about the nature of being human that are too intimate, too complex, or too boring to write?

once i wrote a murder that takes place in a small fictional midwestern town in the 90s (for the ~aesthetic), and it went uninvestigated by said town’s police force. early readers repeatedly commented along the lines of, “that’s not realistic.” and i thought, no, if anything, the incompetence of police is too realistic for the heightened reality i’m trying to render. have you ever heard of a cop solving a murder that didn’t come with an obvious suspect or immediately found evidence? i haven’t. that doesn’t mean those cases don’t exist, but i definitely think they’re less likely than mass media has us believe, and the average small-town police force has far less motivation (and possibly training) to solve crimes than we think.

i started working on the above-mentioned novel in 2016, and my goal was to depict a reality that hovers above the surface of plausibility. in this novel, which is based on macbeth, a preteen girl, mercy, becomes jealous of the love her best friend elisa shows to her father. mercy decides to get her older and very unstable brother to kill him. naturally the deed goes awry, but it does occur, and the cleanup is far messier than anticipated.

is it plausible for a 12 year old girl to plot and execute the murder of her best friend’s father? no. is that what this book is about? yes. a book about a 12 year old girl who has a perfectly healthy relationship with her best friend and who has no feelings toward her bff’s father one way or another is probably far more “realistic,” but that’s not the book i’d want to read and certainly not the one i want to write. my goal of a heightened reality is what henry james calls the intensity of illusion, the thing that allows a reader, through the witness of one’s distilled cognition into language, to exit physical, knowable reality, and enter a new and unknown reality. and isn’t climbing to that higher place, that intensity of illusion, the purpose of fiction? if it’s not, what is?

the best feedback i got on the aforementioned murder scene was from one of my professors, who, of the perfect calm of all children involved, said, “they just shot a guy. at least one of them would be freaking out.”

he was totally right, but it opened up a lot of questions for me. by what standard did he reach that conclusion? was it something in the chapter itself, was it his personal understanding of the work of narrative, or was it the logical conclusion of the slim plausibility of the scenario? moreover, where did i come up with the idea that all of my preteen characters would commit a murder and proceed to be very chill about it? if an implausible scenario begs the expectation of emotional distress, would it be more compelling to buy into that expectation or deviate from it? is it even my obligation to be compelling when i can never have a cogent grasp of the personal tastes of my audience?

that brings me to what appears to be reality’s opposite: idealism, the state those of us who write fanfic are often trying to achieve. we’re working in an entire genre of ideals, of happily ever afters, of hurt that is always followed by comfort, of glossily rendered sex during which everyone orgasms and no one has to pee afterward. we fix broken texts and continue incomplete ones. sometimes, we want to make existing things better, deeper, more complicated. but all the time, we want to make a text more than what it is.

some see this process, this drive for the ideal, as antithetical to realism, and i think that’s part of the reason fanfiction and other idealistic genres (romance, etc.) get a bad name — the assumption that more real (which for some means more miserable) is better, and therefore its opposite, the ideal, is worse. for them, i have this quote from vladimir nabokov:

For me a work of fiction exists only insofar as it affords me what I shall bluntly call aesthetic bliss, that is a sense of being somehow, somewhere, connected with other states of being where art (curiosity, tenderness, kindness, ecstasy) is the norm.

the ideal, aesthetic bliss, the intensity of illusion. these are all phrases that boil down to the same thing: you the writer get to define the constraints of your own reality. you get to choose if your world even complies with the known laws of physics. and if it doesn’t, you get to choose which ones to break, and why to break them. you get to choose if your stories take place in a real house in a real town on a real day. if you wrote a story that takes place on september 11, 2001, would the events of that story be shaped by the events of that actual day, or are you writing a better world where 9/11 doesn’t happen? consider the consequences of both: why might you want to write reality? why might you want to write ideality? how do these things shape your identity and goals as a writer?

no matter where a work falls on the real-ideal spectrum, you have to accept that prose itself will only ever be a verisimilitude of reality and therefore an interpretation of it, one that might be interpreted differently by a reader. in writing and everything else, you can never have complete control over what others perceive. it’s like giving someone cash as a gift. they might buy themselves something nice with it, or they might spend it on groceries. the point is, eventually we all have to let go of our realities.

#lkwrnl #pinned

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evolutionsvoid · 3 years

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The Colloscyt is a terrestrial bird that is found primarily in the labyrinthine caverns and tunnels of the Underworld. They can be found in cave systems that are closer to the surface world, but further investigations have shown that these systems are, or were, connected to the Underworld. So it seems they are directly tied to this land down below, which makes sense when you look at these strange beasts. Gone are the wings that give them flight, as their limbs are now specialized for climbing and scrambling across stone. Their legs and arms are now greatly elongated, giving them a better reach as they scale the walls and ceilings of the Underworld. Their eyes have shrunken and lost their focus, now only good for discerning between light and dark. Not only are their eyes reduced, but so are the specialized throat organs that run down their neck. Hold up second, those wouldn't happen to be external larynges, would they? And how about that third pair of limbs that are sprouting from their back? Those structures seem awfully similar to the ones True Sirens have! In fact, they are the same, because the Colloscyt is indeed a True Siren! "Now say there, Chlora," you may say, "if these things are Sirens, then why didn't you say so in the first place?" A fine question! The reason is because we didn't know it was a True Siren for quite some time! Today, we folk on the surface world call these Cave Sirens or Blind Sirens, but we didn't have these names in the past. Since this species is tied to the Underworld, the people up top didn't really have much of a chance to study them or even see them! The conflict between the two worlds made expeditions and research trips quite difficult, so what information we received about this species (and many others, at the time) came directly from the denizens down below. Even with that, the sources were quite limited, as there wasn't a whole lot of demons and shades who were willing to talk to surface dwellers (and not a lot of surface dwellers wanting to talk to these folk in the first place). With that, many species found exclusively in the Underworld were either unknown or had very little information attached to them. The Colloscyts were one of them, as we only had the word of those down below and few measly parts and pieces. The reason I have called them Colloscyts instead of Cave Sirens is because "Colloscyt" is the first name this species had. This was the name given to them by the people of the Underworld, and it was the name they told us when we asked about these creatures. So for a long time, we called them that as well, until relations between the two worlds got a bit better and we could send researchers downstairs. When a welcomed expedition finally got their hands on a Colloscyt specimen, they were immediately like "hey, this is a True Siren!" And I imagine their Underworld guides were like "what is that?" Obviously the people of the Underworld were not familiar with the creatures up above, so why would they follow our naming conventions? Honestly, it is for the best they don't, because, as far as I can tell, they aren't going around calling everything a freaking dragon! Now that we have covered that, we can take a look at the Colloscyt (or Cave Siren) itself! As I mentioned before, the external larynges of the Colloscyt are quite reduced compared to the other members of its family. This is because the Underworld is kind of a funky place when it comes to sounds and noises. In such an enclosed place with such an array of shapes and sizes, the way sound travels and bounces can be quite erratic. Since every part of the Underworld is quite different from each other, tuning oneself to the environment is a bit difficult. With this, the high-energy, specially tuned hypnotic song of the True Siren family is kind of worthless. They could make it work, but it seems the process would take much longer to finesse, which means it would burn way more energy. So it looks like the Colloscyts let their external larynges reduce a bit, losing their ability to create this entrancing tune while still retaining decent mimicry. Though they have lost this song, they have replaced it with something a bit more helpful. With the help of their external larynges and specialized ears, the Colloscyts are capable of using echolocation to help navigate this darkened world. Their vocal chords produce a special sound, which then bounces off the environment and is then picked up by their ears! Quite helpful when sight isn't really an option in such a lightless place.

This ability is useful with navigation, but it also helps them detect prey. Like other True Sirens, Colloscyts hunt prey, but they use a rather different tactic when it comes to subduing and eating these targets. Climbing silently through the darkness, the Colloscyt will move to position themselves directly above their prey. Hanging from up above, they open their beaked maws and vomit forth a shower of sticky nastiness. This species can create an adhesive mucus, which dries quite quickly when exposed to air. They store up copious amounts of it in their crop, unleashing the torrent when prey is within range. When their target is drenched with this saliva, it will quickly ensnare them and make movement difficult. In a short period of time, it will thicken and harden, trapping prey in a solid mound of spit. Before that can happen, the Colloscyt will drop down and grab hold of the struggling victim. With more gooey saliva, the Colloscyt will "spin" their target in a cocoon, ensuring that they are sufficiently covered and bound. Often, the victim will die of asphyxiation, as their breathing orifices are covered in this sticky crud. Once they are neatly wrapped up and the cocoon has properly solidified, the Colloscyt will jab their beak through the thick coating and into the prey. Through their nostrils, the Colloscyt will inject a digestive enzyme that is pumped from a special organ at the base of their beak. This enzyme is meant to break down the insides of the victim, turning all the organs, muscles and whatnot into soup! When it is all melted into a slurry, the beak will be reinserted and their long tongue will help slurp up what is left! When the cocoon is drained of all nourishment, the Colloscyt will retreat, leaving behind a hardened cocoon and a bundle of bones. This sticky saliva of theirs isn't only used for hunting, as it also helps with deterring predators. When they are hanging from up high, another climbing fiend or a beast on the wing may try to attack them. When this happens, the Colloscyt will use its spit to gunk up their limbs and send them tumbling to the stony floor below. In some cases, the Colloscyt may wind up feeding on their own predators! This saliva is also used by mated to pairs to create nests for their eggs. They will climb up to a hard-to-reach place and use their spit to form a basket to hold their precious young. This construction is not a one-time thing, as the two will tend to the nest and add more mucus to keep it strong as time erodes it and their young grow bigger. When their offspring finally leave the nest, the mated pair will abandon it, constructing a new one when mating season comes back around. This vacant space winds up becoming the home of another creature. A lot of different species can take over these empty nests, which is important to keep in mind if you go poking around in them. I saw one during my travels in the Underworld and wanted to take a closer look. My guides were wise and advised me to test the nest before I climbed up close to it. With a few misaimed rock tosses, I succeeded in agitating the occupant of the nest, which turned out to be a rather large and angry female Mound Roach! No clue why it was dwelling up there, but I am sure glad I didn't get my face close to that thing! This odd creature is known quite well by the denizens of the Underworld, and it should be no surprise that its spit is the star of the show! It's adhesive nature and quick solidification makes it quite useful when it comes to speedy repairs and patch jobs. Those who take excursions into the wilder parts of the Underworld will often keep a hardened bundle of this mucus on them. When equipment breaks or something needs to be glued, they will heat up the solid mass until it becomes gooey again. Apply it to the spot that needs fixing and leave it out to harden! Voila! If they don't have one on them, they can simply collect some from the field. Empty nests and discarded cocoons of previous prey are easy to come by, so they can just get it there. There are some groups down below that even keep a bunch of these birds as livestock, but not for meat! They harvest the spit that comes from them and then sells it as a material or even an ingredient! Turns out that demons and shades have made a dish out of this creature's mucus! "Cocoon Crust Soup" is the name, and it certainly made me curious when I heard about it! A soup made by bird spit? I thought it impossible, but my friends were quick to steer me to a restaurant that served it. I will admit that I was a bit hesitant before I ordered. Having spit in my food is usually something I avoid, and here I was about to order a whole bowlful! But I toughened my roots and gave it a shot! When I tried my first spoonful, I soon realized a problem: Cocoon Crust Soup is a bit too hot for a surface dweller like me! Keep in mind, I am not talking about "spicy" hot, I mean "hot" hot. Like boiling water hot. Turns out this stuff only liquidizes in extreme heat, meaning it must be prepared piping hot to get it to the proper consistency. Since the folk down here aren't put off by blazing temperatures, they serve this soup while its still boiling. One spoonful almost burned a hole in my mouth, so I had to wait for it to cool, which took a long time! Everyone had already eaten by the time I could even get my soup to a tolerable level! Eventually I got to taste it, and it was rather pleasant! A quite unique flavor, though the consistency was a bit gummy. To be fair, that was because I allowed it to cool, and thus it began to solidify. I have to imagine the waiters and cooks thought I was crazy. You get some weird plant person who orders a hot meal and then sits there for an hour and a half until it is stone cold. Sure, I could explain myself by saying "it's too hot," but I am in the Underworld! Who's going to believe me?! Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian ----------------------------------------------------------------- It seems that that one of my go-to species ideas is take an animal that isn't a spider and make it a spider.

#monster #creature #bird #siren #art #drawing #barf bird

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mrgan · 3 years

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Buttermilk Biscuits

Everyone loves biscuits! And if you look up how to make them, basically every recipe is about the same. Mine isn't anything earth-shattering, but it does have one unusual step. Scroll on down to find out what it is! (The secret is folding more than you think you should—ed.)

Neven's Buttermilk Biscuits

Servings: 6-9 biscuits Time: 15 minute mix + 15 minute fold + 30 minute bake

INGREDIENTS:

280 g all-purpose flour

80 g high-gluten flour (or more APF)

25 g sugar

10 g salt

4 teaspoons baking powder

½ teaspoon baking soda

165 g (1.5 sticks) unsalted butter, very cold

1 ¼ cup buttermilk, cold

DIRECTIONS:

First, the most important thing: keep everything as cold as you can. Place a large bowl in the fridge if you can; pop the whole butter sticks into the freezer as you prep.

Put a sheet of parchment paper on a half-sheet pan (18″ × 13″) as your final landing area for the cut biscuits. Pre-heat your oven to 400ºF with a rack in the top third of the oven.

In the cold bowl, whisk together your flour(s), sugar, salt, baking powder, and baking soda. Grab your whole sticks of cold butter and grate them (using the side with the large, pizza-cheese holes) into the bowl with the flour. Using a spatula, fold gently to combine, but without mushing up the butter shreds.

Pour in the buttermilk and fold again with that spatula. You're trying to kind of sort of get it uniform, but it'll still look like an awful mess. Your goal is just to integrate the big pool of dry flour from the bottom of the bowl into a shaggy mass in the middle.

Dust with flour a surface as big as you can afford: a workbench, a clean counter, a large cutting board. Gently flip your "dough" (lol) onto it and shake out any remaining flour from the bowl. It will look like an intimidating, dry mound; that's to be expected.

Grab a bench scraper or another thin, flat-sided tool. (A small, flexible cutting board works.) Now press gently from the sides and the top of your pile to form a sort of tight box. Don't squeeze it like Play-Doh™, but do try to pack it.

Using your scraper tool, go under the sides of the dough and make sure it's not stuck to the work surface. Still using the scraper to help you, flip one third from any side over the middle; then flip the remaining third to make a thicker shape with 2 folds in it, like a letter (you know how we all fold letters all the time these days?) Press down to get the whole thing to the original, starting height again. This is your basic biscuit-folding move; this is what builds those flaky layers, butter being laminated between strata of flour.

Here comes the unusual part of my recipe: where most write-ups will tell you to repeat this two or three times, I'm going to suggest that you do so a dozen times. That's right, get a solid 36 folds in there (each step creates 3 "folds"). The thing is, I don't "mix" my dough much in the previous steps, so this folding is how we'll get the whole thing together and develop lots of layers. If it sounds like a lot of work, don't worry; once you figure out the folding move (which you have to do either way), it only gets easier as you repeat it.

The dough should keep getting more flexible and easier to work with as the flour is integrated into it. If you start to feel some sticking, add a bit of flour to the sticky spots, but don't go wild with it. If the whole thing sticks to the work surface, use that scraper and move along and under the sides again to free it, and maybe add a bit of flour there.

Toward the last 3-4 folds, you can start using a rolling pin to ensure an even height to your dough. The end result should be a rectangle 1.5" thick and maybe 9" × 13" in size, fairly smooth and without any huge spots of butter or flour in it. Press in the sides to ensure a square-ish appearance to the thing, but don't expect perfection.

Once you're satisfied with the final folded dough, cut off those raggedy sides; they'd impede a clean vertical rise of your biscuits. Use your scraper tool—or a big knife—to cut about ½" off each side so the remaining rectangle is super sharp and even. Cut straight down with no sawing motion; just slam straight down confidently. I believe in you.

Using the same BAM! cutting motion, divide your dough rectangle into 6-9 biscuits; how many is up to you and your idea of what looks good and what's possible with the dough. Move the cut biscuits gently—separating from the work surface with that scraper tool if nedded—to the prepared sheet pan with the parchment paper on it. Keep a 1-2" space between your biscuits as they will expand some during the bake.

Discard the cut-off dough… I'm just kidding, come on. Take those end scraps and press them together from their sides to make a sort of rectangle with them. Letter-fold the rectangle again as best as you can, press down to make it neat, and cut however many biscuits it will produce (2? 3?) Cut off the sides again and press them into one wacky biscuit that'll rise unevenly but still be delicious. This should be your only un-square biscuit. Move all the new biscuits to the prepared sheet pan.

Grab another ¼ cup buttermilk and brush the tops of your biscuits with it; just enough to cover them, without getting goopy. Pop the whole thing into the oven and set a timer for 20 minutes. Rotate halfway through that time if you're around.

Check your biscuits' appearance: golden, with some dark areas along the top? Are the bottoms also developing a nice crust? You might not be done after 20 minutes, so feel free to set a timer for another 3-12 minutes, as needed.

When your biscuits look so good you want to build an ethical photo-sharing platform just to show them to the world, remove them from the oven. Feel free to brush them with butter. (Just running that remaining half a stick of butter over them like lip gloss will do.) Let them cool for at least 10 minutes before eating them.

PRO TIPS:

Try to find full-fat buttermilk. Sometimes it's called "Bulgarian style" or another exotic name that means it's flavorful and good.

You can freeze unbaked biscuits. Once your biscuits are cut and on the sheet pan, place the whole sheet pan in the freezer for 2 hours, uncovered. When the biscuits are rock-hard, move them to a freezer bag, fold to get all the air out of the bag, close, and store in the freezer for, like, 3 months or so. Bake from frozen (DO NOT THAW) and add 5-15 minutes to the bake time, until they look delectable.

Do you think grating butter is weird? Are you weirded out by it? You can also cut it to a fine dice and then press it into flat discs in the flour using your hands. It's a free country.

Leftover biscuits should be stored in a closed container once they're fully cooled off. You can keep them around on the counter for 2-3 days, and reheat in a low oven, either whole or split.

I'm gonna hide a Mega Pro Tip here where no one will read it: buttermilk is incredibly delicious and you should just drink it out of a glass.

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concrete-paver-molds-blog · 3 years

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How To Minimize Concrete Paver Molds On A Winding Path

This could be an important factor to assume about since you're considering of doing the project slightly bit at a time. I even have that very same mould and used it for a sidewalk years in the past. I have a 16x16 foot deck at our present house and used the mould for a sidewalk on two sides. It has held up good aside from the filler between the stones concrete paver molds.

Use a leftover scrap to make a single mold, or buy a benderboard roll and make a quantity of molds at once. Benderboard is often overlapped and secured with screws, however this will depart an impression within the paver, so you'll find a way to simply tape the ends collectively. First brush inner mildew surface with mould launch, making use of with a cheap paintbrush. Remove excess oil with a paper towel or dry paintbrush. Next, measure out dry concrete or mortar mix in a wheelbarrow or utility tub.

While you'll have the ability to definitely choose interesting and beautiful ready-made concrete pavers, making your personal provides a inventive dimension that appeals to many gardeners. Install a paver patio or walkway to add both visual attraction and performance to your landscaping. Pavers assist define a garden’s type while also bettering entry to it and including outdoor dwelling area. Ready-made pavers, although, may be cost-prohibitive for many concrete paver molds homeowners.

Many people are turning to paver molds to create floors for patio areas. Rather than fussing with laying large blocks of stone, they're using the molds to make beautiful patterned areas for out of doors entertaining. In at present's world of big box home and garden stores and smaller specialty backyard centers, you might surprise why utilizing a mold to make concrete pavers is better than buying ready-made pavers. Find a flat, level place on the bottom or a piece of plywood the place you'll find a way to lay your type once it is able to obtain the moist concrete. Pour 2-3 inches of sand on the flat spot, and degree the sand.

If you employ the best concrete paver molds recipe, it can be as sturdy as cement, and quite a bit cheaper; in my case, I basically mixed cement with the clay I dug out of my yard. Bend the benderboard items to form a circle with the two ends butted towards each other. Follow the pure curve because of the board being in a roll.

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You additionally could have plenty of time to regulate the color as you're working on them. You don’t need to end up having to buy expensive stains or dyes, together with etching products and sealants, to appropriate the colour if the color isn’t what you have been going for. Let these take a look at items remedy a minimum of three days -a week is better. You don’t need to use your vinyl straps, just plop your wet combination onto the ground where your stones will go and make them into any shape. Just bear in mind that when the cement is wet, it appears quite darkish, however will cure to quite a light-weight shade of gray that nearly appears white. With my vinyl straps, I was limited to creating solely three molds at a time.

Return tackle isn't the company address on Jaxpety web site. Our customer service will provide you a return handle after return approved. All NON-seller mistake returns for refund are subject to 10% re-stocking payment and purchaser will be liable for the return shipping charge. We need you to be utterly satisfied together with your buy on Wish. Return all products inside 30 days of delivery if they don't seem to be as a lot as your satisfaction. According to the structural design of the concrete ditch, there are notches on the 2 ends of the facet to facilitate the inspection of the ditch blockage.

Concrete Success options all kinds of mould shapes to create interlocking patio stones as well as stones for backyard paths. With so many molds to choose from, you're certain to search out one that matches your backyard. Since including stones and pavers takes time and effort, and the results aren't easily moved once they're put in, take your time to select the right look and feel on your backyard. Be positive the concrete is filled to the top of the shape and is leveled and smoothed.

Mainly prefabricated concrete edge blocks for urban roads. If you do find yourself with leaf stains, a stress washer and some OxiClean, or maybe tsp will help remove them. You need a mix that permits for the biggest dimension stone you propose to make and can meet the thickness you need. Otherwise, good ole fashioned hand mixing with a hoe and extensive bin will work. Here are two different fun tutorials where I used concrete to make a stone formed planter and in addition to make a rock shaped planter. I had my concrete covered because it was the height of pollen season and I didn’t need the yellow pollen staining the stones.

I think you'd be better off with sand or screenings between them rather than mortar unless you'll have the ability to put a concrete base underneath the pavers, you then could be OK with mortar between them. A couple of things I wish to point out earlier than I get onto my question. The first is that the mildew creates particular person stones, this isn't a stamp. Once the mold is removed, they are utterly separated pieces. The mortar is swept in dry, then sprayed with water to create a bond between all the blocks / stones. The second thing is that the finished cement is 2 inches thick.

At my customer's insistance, I did a flagstone patio dry laid on a tamped mattress of stone over fabric & upper layer of screenings. We did everything we may to roll water off the patio. We used mortar joints between the flagstones and so they popped some joints. The key's to make sure you begin with good, quality molds and that you combine constant batches of concrete.

I truly have 225sqft I'm going to be putting in pavers on so roughly $500 or so for normal formed pavers. My spouse is wanting different designs so if this methodology is cheaper it might be a good route. In common, customers are extremely glad with the functionality and usefulness of the Pathmate random stone mould.

The very first thing you have to determine is whether the "completely different designs" your wife needs may be satisfied through the use of molds, or by alternating the design of pavers . Also understand that the finished molded concrete pavers will crack (ideally alongside their "grout" traces, which isn't an issue), and can respond to frost heave less properly than pavers. Spray the inside of the paver mould with nonstick cooking spray to make it easy to release the concrete.

Concrete Countertop Molds And Edge Molds

As well, you should spray down the stroll maker form after each couple of uses- this helps it launch easier. Wash the Poly PVA Solution off the unique stepping stone mannequin with water after which place the original stepping stone and reproduced stepping stones into the walkway. Apply Pol-Ease® 2300 Release Agent to the stepping stone, mold box walls and mildew box bottom board after which brush it out with a dry brush to encourage even coverage. We left zero.75″ of house between the stepping stone and mold field walls to create 0.75″ thick mildew walls. Some gardeners may be intimidated on the thought of making their own concrete pavers. If you might make a cake, you can even make concrete pavers and stepping stones.

If you have a very porous mannequin, like the one on this tutorial, you might have to use more than one coat of Poly PVA Solution. We applied two coats of this sealer, waiting for it to dry (~ 1 hour) in between coats and earlier than moving on to the following steps. Select essentially the most intact stepping stone from the walkway.

There are extra choices than you assume in relation to the molds needed to type stepping stones.

The best part is that once the pavers are laid and vibrated in, the project is done and usable IMMEDIATELY.

This helps to take away any air bubbles that could show up within the stone.

Since I'm in no rush and have loads of time I want to hear from someone who has really tried this technique earlier than.

Dampen the Sand Mix with a nice mist of water (do not over-wet).

If you have the actual DIY spirit, or are simply looking to save money in your next hardscaping project, contemplate making your own concrete pavers. A reference value is offered by the vendor of the merchandise . Percentage off and savings quantities are based on the vendor's reference worth. The reference value can give you a sign of the value of the product butsome shops may sell the merchandise for lower than the reference worth. If you feel a reference price is inaccurate or deceptive please report it with the URL for the itemizing to report-

My concern with massive concrete slabs is the 10x10 that is already there has cracked in several locations and just does not look good. The identical settling in a paver setup could make them slightly off degree in a certain spot, but that is much easier to treatment and look good than a cracked slab. Home made high quality control might attain the extent of crappy 2x2 slabs however not of commercially produced patio/driveway pavers. An interesting aspect observe, was talking to my brother yesterday and talked about I was thinking of getting slightly concrete mixer. He bought a garage and it has a industrial concrete mixer in it with a new electric motor.

Our concrete molds are designed to final, and you must use one p ath maker many occasions. The only cause why one could contemplate shopping for another concrete p ath mould is to make the process even quicker. You could fill in the second brick paver mildew while the primary one is getting dry. But for some purpose, when I made these concrete stepping stones, I didn’t suppose the colour of the pavers would turn out gentle -like the bowl in my exams did. Make natural looking DIY concrete stepping stones or pavers. Color the concrete and mould it into the form of real fieldstones or flagstones.

We actually have 1000's of great products in all product categories. Whether you’re in search of high-end labels or low-cost, economic system bulk purchases, we assure that it’s here on AliExpress. Each order comes with easy to use mold instructions to create ornamental wanting ornamental pieces for your house or garden. • Avoid vigorous tapping when eradicating air bubbles; this can trigger cracks within the plastic. Should a crack develop in the mildew, fill it with epoxy or Bondo, found at any ironmongery store. Apply these adhesives to the outer surface of the mildew.

How To Minimize Pavers On A Winding Path

The Pathmate Paving Stone Mold offers an ideal method to mildew a walkway in a yard with pace and effectivity. It's constructed of a plastic materials that is out there in black shade. This paving stone mildew features varied shapes and sizes so you could get creative along with your pavers. It may additionally be reused after cleansing so you can make as many as you need. This concrete paver mold allows you to design your own path with numerous colors and designs.

Add any desired imprints or elaborations, corresponding to mosaic tile, immediately before the floor begins to set. Using a hose and spray nozzle, clean the concrete residue off the mould earlier than it dries if you finish up finished using it. Gradually add water to the concrete mix based on the directions on the package deal. Stir the water into the concrete with the hoe as you go.

All of the center sections can be accomplished as fast as you can drop them into place. You can estimate approx $2.50/sq ft for the finishing supplies and somewhat bit extra for the gravel/base mix and a few sand to prime it off. The best part is that once the pavers are laid and vibrated in, the project is finished and usable IMMEDIATELY. It is easily repairable and may easily assist automobile and truck traffic. Again, the price just isn't as much as you would suppose becase the pavers are fashioned from very high energy concrete and colored through. To duplicate this, you would wish to buy the most costly type of bagged mix and if you have not priced the dye/coloring combine, you might be in for a suprise.

I can color the concrete to my likening and I get to work at my own tempo and budget. A couple pics of another person's work may be discovered right here and here. Since I did most of this project by myself, I discovered it was best to go combine one other batch and arrange the following mold, pour it and frivolously stage it. This technique made it straightforward to see that I would have a mixture of 5 giant stones and a number of other small stones – again, which if combined, would make 9 giant stepping stones. Also, many people wish to make ornamental stepping stones like garden mosaic stepping stones. They are usually made by including mosaic glass or different embeddable materials into the concrete.

I'm seeking to put a garden shed on some this summer time. Seem like most the stuff I discover on there is leftovers. 225sqft doesn't sound like a lot but if you break it down by pieces I would wish over x8 pavers or x12 pavers.

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fictionalrambles · 4 years

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Shadowhunters Fandom Story - Part Five

Submitted by @ladymatt

Five Favourite Stories

Dietary Restrictions by @alexandergideontrueblood

Why I love this fic: I’ve enjoyed many stories from this writer but I’ve settled on this little gem because in exactly 1,500 words it served up a memorable tale of relationship woes between Frat Boy Alec and Incubus Magnus that still manages to tug at my heartstrings. Against a wickedly humorous backdrop, we’re treated to mutual pining, crude banter, searing honesty, an unconventional first-meet and the priceless image of a not-so-angelic angel bathed in moonlight as his heart breaks. Sometimes the best stories require fewer words, and it's the little details that give us the bigger picture - and when a writer can give so much story while inviting you to fill in the blanks, you know'll you'll always remember it fondly!

Favourite Quote:

Love fucking sucks, Magnus thinks, running hands through his hair and tugging at his angelic robes. He’d been going for irony, but now it’s just irritating because not only does he look like an angel, he’s going to end up celibate like one too. Magnus is the living embodiment of lust and he can’t even get a 21-year-old frat boy to fuck him.

The Way It Should Be by j__writes

Why I love this fic: This bittersweet story of two people falling in love while they’re not free to do so actually made me feel things I didn’t expect and for characters I’d never thought it possible to care for - all because of the painstakingly honest way Jackie wrote each of the characters, with their all-too-relatable flaws and virtuous intentions. Each scene is laden with emotion and telling gestures, the incremental shifts in everyone’s relationships written with a deft touch that left me almost as conflicted as those involved - but ultimately relieved. When a writer makes me feel the unthinkable, you know the story, and the writer, is a keeper!

Favourite Quote:

“The worn dark leather, all the photographs of teens you’ve helped, the old man caramels in a bowl, even the potted hosta— your office, Alexander, feels”—Magnus closed his eyes breathed in deeply, holding his breath in for a moment and smiling as he exhaled—“warm, comforting, safe. It feels like you.”

Anonymorous by @superficialpeasant

Why I love this fic: I can’t read this fic without laughing out loud, mostly thanks to Clary’s enthusiastic gratitude and Alec being one giant pillar of salt throughout - I always love reading this writer’s work because humour is never far from the surface. The instant chemistry between the two masterpieces as they’re lost to everyone but each other in that most public of settings, certainly doesn’t hurt either, and the intimate teasing and burgeoning attraction that’s central to this ‘exhibit’s’ success is deeply satistying to witness, as is the post-performance leap of faith. I’m guaranteed to enjoy whatever delights are served up by one of my favourite fandom writers!

Favourite Quote:

“Remember to have fun. Be yourselves. Focus on each other," Alec can almost hear her pumping her fist into the air, "Get those orgasms!”

Alec just about reaches out to smack her again, hisses, “We’ve got it, Fray.”

The Difference Between Knowledge And Knowing by @otppurefuckingmagic

Why I love this fic: This wonderful story offers us a window into Magnus’ world, a magical place where his unique connection to everything and everyone around him is both beautifully explained and easily visualised, thanks to Sam’s evocative words and perfect characterisation. That it focuses on what makes them special to one another and adds yet another layer to the bond between them would be reason enough to single it out for praise, but this writer’s incredible gift for capturing the importance of the occassion is what makes it a favourite of mine!

Favourite Quote:

“It’s not just your personal aura. Yours and mine….” Magnus hovers his hand over Alec’s chest, searching for words to explain what he sees. “They are like the shoreline. Right now, there are…waves crashing out of you—like a storm-surge sweeping in—and mine is like the shifting sand, molding to the shape of the waves and being drawn out. Two separate entities that push and pull, yet never part.”

Stupid Cupid by @unrestrainedlyexcessive

Why I love this fic: With a distinctive writing style and a hilarious penchant for dry humour, this writer has entertained me countless times by managing to weave the reliable threads of familial bonds, unlikely friendships, disastrous relationships and razor-sharp observations about life’s ups and downs, into stories that always feel relatable, even when dealing with supernatural or fantastical situations. With plot twists and soul-searching to keep us on our toes, this guardian angel fic is but one example of how wickedly good this writer is at playing with our affections - in the best of ways!

Favourite Quote:

“I know it’s silly, but what if I used all my talent up?”

“I’ll make it easy for you: you probably have.”

Magnus rocks back on his heels, face hot and hands balled into fists. “Oh my sweet fucking god, you’re the worst guardian angel ever, you angelic dickhead.”

Author Story

Before Malec lit up my screen and burned their way into my heart, I neither read nor wrote fan fiction of any kind, and would've laughed at the suggestion of me ever posting something online - but here we are, 29 stories later, and I can't imagine a day passing where I don't feel the need to somehow touch base with these characters - either through my own or other people's stories - because I find them so rich in complexity and character that the potential to explore them through so many different lenses is too good to pass up - especially with all the talented creatives in this fandom! Yet, I also can't imagine ever wanting to write anything other than Malec, despite enjoying all manner of different show and ships, because I'm just not motivated by them in the same way - and I'm fine with that! My forays into writing are an escape, a chance to use my imagination, and if someone enjoys them, I get all warm and fuzzy - but as far as my writing journey goes - I'm afraid it begins and ends with a magical warlock and his loyal Shadowhunter!

#shadowhunters #fanfiction #shadowhunters fanfiction #fanfiction blog

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weaselsmuses-aa · 4 years

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hey human hcs again because fuck it its revamp time

Ft: My muses && Some others that i just happen to have hcs for.

My muses + oc’s in collab w friends.

Topaz!!

Age: 16

Grade: Sophomore

Born in South Korea

Became something of a musical sensation back home, and is famous for her music mixing.

Became independent at 15, moved to the states a year later with the desire to see what America was like, hollywood in particular.

Lives in an apartment with Saphir, her senior classmate and good friend.

Pastel vibes

Sassy vibes (Much more sassy than gem topaz :o)

MomTM friend. She mediates and keeps the peace. Also will give great life advice.

Judges silently, but says nothing if she has nothing nice to say. (But she’ll think it.)

Currently has a job as a DJ at a local skating rink where her friends hang out. Gets them free food and games..

Hoping to make it big in the US so she can stay after she graduates.

Parents living overseas and helping pay for her life and schooling in the states.

She spends summers in Korea where she visits her family and tours, records music.

Part of the art club and spends a lot of time in the music rooms. She isn’t in Choir, Band or Orchestra, but is in music theory and guitar. Has a LOT of friends in all those programs.

Swiss (birth name: Sage)

Age: 16-17

Grade: Sophomore.

Swiss was born in Switzerland, but has also lived in South Korea for 5 years (where she met Topaz), London for 2, and now the US where she started high school.

Lives with her Father who is from Switzerland, her mom who was born in the UK, and her baby sister Kyanite

Class goofball and classic slacker but somehow still passes and knows the material.

‘ Whoops, I forgot my homework again’ type

Dye’d her hair blue at 14, pierced both her nose, lips, and several places in her ear.

Depressed and tired. Brings rockstar energy’s to class a lot.

Punk Rock vibes, but wears her uniform rather well. Her messenger bag is tricked out with a lot of music festival patches and pins though.

Her and Topaz both are those kids that have earbuds and beats headphones on all the time. She gets in trouble for listening to rock in class. Or talking.

Has a band, and is the main drummer and back up vocalist. The band was her idea, but she gives her friends a lot of freedom. Since drumming is her passion she doesn’t mind not being the lead vocalist.

Crushing on / Dating the richest girl in the school (Aquamarine ‘Marie’)

Doesn’t have a job, but thinking about getting a part time one at the record shop near her house.

Oversleeps A LOT. IS late to class a lot. Usually her detentions are from tardiness (or saying some smart ass comment to be funny and getting in trouble for it)

Very protective of her little sister, and gets along well with her in private, despite pretending that she irritates her.

No after school activities for her thanks. That stuffs lame. (Though she does wander in and hang out with the game club sometimes)

Kyanite (Ky)

Age: 14-15

Grade: 8th

One of the pretty MeanTM girls in middle school. Rather high on the social pecking order due to being an upperclassmen and being a cutie with an attitude.

Fashion sense a mix between soft grunge, a touch of punk and more flowing feminine outfits, or neat and prim /professional outfits. Whatever she decides, she likes to look good.

Very talented at doing her make up and nails, tends to have a lot of requests from other girls her age for help in that dept.

Looks up to her sister a lot more than she lets on. Lowkey wants to be involved in a lot of what she does after school. (She even begged her parents to let her dye her hair blue as well right after Swiss did (She was 12 at the time))

Love’s shopping and collecting outfits and cute little butterfly themed things for her room.

While she’s in the ‘popular’ circle of girls in her grade, shes not particularly stuck up when it comes to other kids. She can be mean, but its usually to just as entitled kids. She’s rather tame and even friendly with less popular kids in her grade. She’s very comfortable around them and enjoys not being put on a pedestal all the time

Romance obsessed. (Duh)

Wishes she could get a piercing and a tattoo like her sissy, but her parents only let her pierce her ears.

A’s in most of her classes, but struggles in History. It’s a snoozefest to her.

Currently in band and debate team. (She plays flute)

Takes FOR-E-VER to get ready to leave the house. (Hey, its not ALWAYS swiss’s fault shes’ late.)

Best friends in school are Livie and Bebe.

Spends a lot of time after school for Band practice, Debate team activities, or supporting her bestie Bebe in her cheer practice.

Really likes sneaking in the upperclassmen building. No one’s cute in her grade :/ (according to her)

Likes to fake being sick so she can go home early. way too often.

Bonus’es!

ft some of my other... (albiet co-op) oc’s / and aquamarine cus i can

Bebe

Age: 14-15

Grade: 8th

Met Kyanite in 6th grade and they instantly hit it off well.

Bubble gum pink hair, and really likes fashion. Always obsessed with wearing the cutest combo of clothes she can come up with.

Really sweet and bubbly on the surface, but she isn’t called a bubblegum bitch for nothing. She knows shes popular and will often trick the vulnerable into believing they have social status only to humiliate them when she sees fit.

A little bit bitchier than Ky. Not that she wants to be mean actively, she just kind of ......is how we say.....spoiled brat.

As long as her best friend cares about someone she does too.

When she actually does accept you, shes a very sweet and almost loyal to the point of irritation.

Crushing on Kyanite, kissed her at a party and has kind of never got over it.

Serial dater. Literally she has a new sweetie every week. its tiring.

Junior Varsity Cheer Team and Drama club are her life.

When she’s not doing those things, she’s spending her time in her Juniors bowling team. They go to tourney during summer.

Parents aren’t filthy rich but they are not hurting for money in any shape or form. Shes always got whatever she wanted.

Loves getting gifts, and will almost try and bug people into sending her stuff to homeroom during holidays. Either because she wants STUFF or for her own popularity.

Might be kind of bitchy but really does feel bad and get upset if people point that out about her. I wouldn’t say she /wants/ to be a bad person. her parents never told her no and nor how to not be self centered.

Very talkative and upbeat. Wants to inspire her friends and lift them up.

On the other end, is a big gossip and bad about spreading rumors and stirring up drama with people she isn’t a fan of.

Show her a cute animal and she’ll sob. I mean the whole 9 yards.

Marie . (Aquamarine.)

Age: 17-18

Grade: 12th

Born and raised in London for the majority of her life. She’s also lived in France for 3 years during an abroad program her parents sent her to where she met one of her closest friends (Astrid)

Her parents are filthy stinkin rich and own a foreign luxurious fashion company and a luxury car company.

Livie is her baby sister and she often tries to pretend like thats not the case. (She loves her guys i swear)

Stuck up, bratty, and just an overall bitch. She RELISHES in it. Marie KNOWS shes mean, popular and has power and she’s proud.

“you can’t sit with me, you can’t talk to me, you aren’t good enough to even know me.”

Her desire for power has her gunning for valedictorian (cue her and satoshit fighting to the death), and she’s currently the president of student government. Thats right. She’s deciding school functions and your future you little peasant fucks.

Will shove her riches and status down your THROAT oh my goooodddd

Throws HUGE parties when her parents are out of town, uses it as a tool to make the popular kids/upperclassmen love her even more and show the ‘losers’ where their place is.

Always has to look THE best in the school, and will probably murder anyone who threatens to take her places as prom queen (i kid i kid.........maybe)

Hangs out with Astrid and Mae when they’re in town.

Has a type that does not fall in line with her image (coughcough Swiss cough) and will do a LOT to keep in a secret. But....listen....she also can’t hide it well. Like...not even a little. She gay.

She’s always seen with her posse of popular girls and her two primary school friends the topazes. They’re just the schools huge UNITS of lesbian quarterbacks, their fists as big as your face, they wont squash you, promise. (look at marie wrong once bitch.)

Will die of embarrassment of her sister livie. Unfortunately is responsible for her in a lot of ways. Driving her back and forth from school, taking her to school functions and much more. (She loves her....double pinky swear) But she claims they aren’t related. (no one believes this hoe) That don’t mean she wont DESPERATELY try to pawn her off for the day. Babysitter? Butler? Anyone? SOMEONE?

Will absolutely use Livie as a means to hang out with Swiss via playdates. Oh yeah, she knows their baby sisters are besties. It’s free real estate.

Has expressed to Swiss that she wishes they could trade sisters. ( I swear marie loves livie deep down in this essay I will----)

In a wealth measuring contest with Satoshit 24/7

Is CONSTANTLY going on overseas trips. She will never stop bragging about it.

Consumed mostly by Student Government and Theatre.

#so it got longer and longer and longer #and marie stole the show #as she should #v:human #HCs #LONG post #i am so sorry but ...i had to do it to em #;hcs

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joonhaze · 4 years

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Imagine BTS : In Your Home-Ec Class (Hyung Line)

A/N : I haven’t taken a foods class (or home ec, whatever you call it) in so long, and for good reason, I can barely make grilled cheese without setting something on fire

✎ _______________________

Namjoon

“Wait, one teaspoon of vinegar or two? Y/N, what did the recipe say again?”

You turn from your place at the oven and almost shriek at the sight of Namjoon holding a teaspoon in one hand and a bottle of vinegar in the other, both hovering right over the glass bowl of cake mix.

“Namjoon!” You quickly run over and snatch the vinegar from his hands, putting it back in it’s place as he stares at you, confused.

“The recipe calls for two teaspoons of vanilla.”

You hand him the small bronze bottle as his mouth shapes an ‘O’. You snicker and smack the back of his head playfully.

“Are you sure you’re the smartest boy in school? What kind of cake is made with vinegar?” He pouts and his cheeks dust pink as you laugh even more.

“Here, let me.” You reach from behind him and pour the vanilla in the spoon that was shaking between his nerve-wracked hands. Namjoon has never felt his face this hot, and he’s even more embarrassed when he notices his friends snickering from the other kitchen across from yours.

‘This counts as a back-hug, right? I can go home today saying she hugged me, right? Holy shit, Y/N is giving me a back-hug, oh my God’

Namjoon bites the inside of his beet-red cheek to hold back his ridiculous smile. His heart feels fast and shaky, as though it’s about to burst into millions of butterflies.

You soon leave to the other side of the kitchen and Namjoon is left to focus on the warmth your hands left on his as much as possible before it fades away.

An hour later, the cake is finished and you pull it out of the oven, placing it on the counter-top as Namjoon pulls out a knife to cut it.

“No icing?” You ask. He pulls away the knife suddenly and looks up at you with wide eyes. “Do you like the icing?”

You shake your head, smiling at how adorable he is. “No, but I thought you did.”

Namjoon smiles shyly. “Oh, no, uh, the icing tastes horrible.”

You nod in agreement before brightening, turning towards the cupboards and reaching for a small pink jar.

“Sprinkles!” You excitedly run over next to Namjoon and pour rainbow sprinkles until the chocolate-brown surface isn’t visible anymore.

“You’re lucky I like sprinkles, I would’ve killed you over how hard I worked on this.”

You laugh and take a fork to grab a bite. You offer another to Namjoon and he eats it happily, more so because his crush of two years was feeding him cake that they made together and God, he’s so whipped.

“Wait, you got a little,” You start to giggle at the colorful sprinkles framing his lips.

“Whuf?” He tries to ask. You burst into laughter and Namjoon feels his cheeks swell with his growing smile.

“You have some sprinkles on the side here.” You reach up and swipe some off his cheek, licking it happily as Namjoon’s smile falls and his cheeks go beet-red. You notice his heavy blush and he turns away when you smirk.

“You have a little mooore~” You tease, back-hugging him and rocking him side-to-side.

“Have you just been teasing me all this time?” Namjoon asks defeatedly, but with a small smile. He hates but loves the way you make him so weak. You poke his dimples as you nod, laughing when he squeezes his eyes shut and sighs heavily.

“I’m sorry! It’s just so fun!”

“Fun to make me die of embarrassment?” You nod and cackle as he shakes his head dramatically. “You’re evil, Y/N.”

“I know.” You smile, standing up on your tip-toes in front of him and grinning, enjoying him looking so flustered. “Meet me at my locker at lunch? I can buy us some ramen to make it up to you.”

Namjoon smiles and boldly wraps his arms around your waist, holding you against him. “I think finishing the rest of this cake would be a much better option.”

✎ _______________________

Seokjin

“Y/N, where are the blueberries?!?”

You flinch and bump your head on the top of the fridge when you hear Seokjin screech behind you. You were currently busy looking for the almond milk after Seokjin demanded you do.

“Jin, the recipe doesn’t need blueberries.” You call over your shoulder. “Or almond milk.” You mutter under your breath.

“And who on earth said that?”

“The recipe, Seokjin.” You wave the bright-green paper tiredly, but Seokjin just snatches it away and balls it up, missing the trash can when he throws it away.

“I don’t follow recipes anyways, they hold me back!”

You sigh and roll your eyes. Seokjin being your cooking partner this semester was both the best and worst thing ever. You always got the best grades for outstanding results, mainly on his part because as much as you hated to admit it, the man was a magician in the kitchen. But the room was always left a mess after running around and grabbing whatever Seokjin demanded you to grab, and you always miss the early bus which means you always get home after four, when school ends at 3:30.

“Imagine following a recipe, hiding my talent from the world,” Jin scoffs under his breath. He mutters some more and you roll your eyes. You barely take a few steps before you hear him screech, “Y/N! I need whipped cream! And strawberry syrup! No, make it raspberry!”

You flinch and trudge towards the fridge, defeated and in no mood to even try with Seokjin anymore. It’s been a long day and he’s clearly too high on his throne to come down. You just pray you’ll make it out of this class alive at this point. And with as minimal damage to your eardrums as possible.

“Is there even a difference between raspberry syrup and strawberry syrup?” You grumble under your breath, turning back around towards the fridge. “I mean, they’re both red, right-”

You wince, feeling a rough rap on the top of your head.

Seokjin stands over you, wooden spoon in hand as his arms are crossed and folded. “Yes, Y/N, there is a huge difference!”

You roll your eyes for the trillionth time and rummage through the plethora of sauces and cans and jars until you finally find the whipped cream and raspberry sauce. By then, Seokjin is madly blending at the counter, adding more milk and berries as he so pleases.

As usual, it’s not a surprise to the class when you and Seokjin excel in the ranking and grading process when the milkshakes were presented. One of the only things that make your heart feel light during this class is when your mark is always above a 90, if not, a perfect 100.

“97!” You exclaim happily, clutching the criteria paper close to your chest.

“Oh please, our shake deserved a 100! 110, even!” Seokjin exasperates, hanging up his apron in the corner while frustratingly waving his arms. You two were the only ones left in the classroom, everyone having already been dismissed after having put away their supplies after their “half-ass blending”.

“Well, not all of us can be as critical and perfect as you, Kim Seokjin.” You smirk, giving him a side-eye as he walks towards his bag that was scattered on the floor near the door. He sighs dramatically and pouts. “It’s so hard being perfect.”

You chuckle and expect to hear his footsteps fade down the hall, but instead you hear them coming closer. You look up and Seokjin is helping you, putting away the ingredients back in the fridge as you wash the blender.

“Aren’t you supposed to leave?”

“Why do you say that?” He raises a brow at you. Your mouth suddenly feels dry when he looks at you. His eyes are piercing and perfect.

Along with being a master chef, Seokjin is also easily one of the most handsome boys in the grade, if not the school. So it’s no surprise that he constantly has girls at his feet. While you aren’t one of the ones who actively pursue him, you can’t possibly make a fool of yourself and deny your attraction towards him.

You feel your cheeks get warm and turn away suddenly, focusing intently on the white suds in the sink.

“I dunno, you just... never stay after the bell.”

Another thing you learned about Seokjin, is that he always leaves as soon as he’s dismissed, leaving you to clean, which always takes an easy extra hour everyday.

“I know, but I also see you missing your bus everyday when I drive by the station, and I feel bad, so,” He shrugs. You look back at him, confused.

“So, you’re going to drive me to the station?”

He tsks and rolls his eyes, walking towards you. “No, you nitwit, I’m going to drive you home.”

“O-Oh!” Your eyes widen in realization before they widen even more with confusion. “N-No, it’s okay, it really isn’t that big a deal...”

He looks at you critically before shrugging. “Okay.”

You smile, but your heart pangs with regret when you remember that the forecast predicted that it would be snowing heavily outside today.

Three steps off school grounds and you’re already shivering.

“Damn it, Y/N, you’re so dumb.” You curse yourself for turning down Jin’s offer.

The sidewalks are icy and the powdery snow does nothing to aid you, so you’re waddling as fast as you can to get to the station, which is at least another block away.

The wind gets sharp and shoves you to the ground, leaving you a hissing and shivering mess. You curse under your breath and get up as quickly as possible, hoping nobody was around to see you. Or else you would be cold and humiliated.

“Get in loser, we’re going to the hospital because you’re going to die of hypothermia if you keep walking like that.”

You turn in surprise and Seokjin is there on the road, bundled up behind the wheel in his car. You don’t have the heart or pride to disagree or turn him away, your fingertips feel as though they’re going to fall off any given moment now.

You sigh in relief when you get in his car, feeling delicious heat spreading down to your toes.

“Thank you.” You gasp out.

You’re breathing hot air into your palms when you think you catch Seokjin smiling at you. He probably thinks you’re weird for walking in this type of weather.

‘Cute’ He muses before driving off.

“Y/N, can I confess something?” Seokjin asks after a few minutes of awkward silence and traffic. You respond pretty quietly, but it was enough for him to hear you say ‘Uh, okay..’

“I like you. Like, like you, like you.”

Your eyes widen and you sit up in your seat because holy shit, Kim Seokjin just confessed to you.

Kim Seokjin.

Likes you.

You’ve never seen the bold boy show a hint of embarrassment or shame in the three years you’ve known him, but here he is, blushing madly as he drives you home on an unbearably freezing February afternoon.

“O-Oh...” You mutter under your breath, your fingers twisting and playing with the edge of your jacket.

“It’s fine if you don’t like me back, I just wanted to tell you because it’s been driving me crazy and I honestly wanted to get rid of the fucking feeling of hiding it from you but I really do think that we could have something, you know?”

He clears his throat nervously, pulling at his scarf around his neck. “I mean, if you like me too, that is.”

You smile, and turn towards him quickly as he pulls up to your place, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before opening the door and hopping out.

“You have my instagram, right?” He nods, clearly flustered by the way his eyes are wide and his cheeks are dusted pink.

“You’re so pink.” You giggle and Seokjin pouts. “It’s just the cold, don’t be so full of yourself.”

“Sorry.” You giggle before boldly winking flirtatiously. “Text me.”

Seokjin’s shy smile grows stupidly wide when you turn away and go inside, driving away with a hand on his cheek, tracing the place where you kissed him dearly.

✎ _______________________

Yoongi

“Y/N, Thalia isn’t here today, so you’ll be partnered with Yoongi today.”

Your mouth falls agape in front of your teacher as you glance towards your assigned kitchen, seeing Yoongi already leaning against the counter, picking at his fingernail. He looks bored. And scary.

“Uh, Ms. Liu, I... I don’t think I can work with him. He’s too... he scares me a little, I guess...” You didn’t want to be rude but you couldn’t lie.

Yoongi was notorious in your school for being extremely quiet. Menacing. Even though he hasn’t really done anything to fuel or even give him the “quiet killer bad boy” reputation he has, but with all fairness, his looks didn’t help him much, wearing all black all the time and never saying more than a few words to anyone. He wasn’t mean, but he didn’t try to be nice.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, but I have so much work to do and as much as I like you, I can’t deal with this right now, so I’m sorry, but it’s just one class.”

“You’re not the one who has to work with him...” You mutter as you wrap your apron around your waist when she was out of earshot.

“Come on, I’m not that bad, am I?”

You give a small yelp and turn around in surprise. Yoongi is standing directly behind you, smiling wide. You try to say something along the lines of “I’m sorry” and “Please don’t eat me”, but he cuts you off.

“Come on partner, that steak isn’t going to season itself.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from saying anything embarrassing as you followed Yoongi to the kitchen.

Surprisingly, Yoongi was actually a good cook. No, scratch that, an amazing cook. All you did was season the steak while he took care of everything else. Well, you made the pasta, but he made the sauce so it’s pretty obvious who the more skilled one was.

Nearly an hour later, class was over and the lunch bell rang. You and Yoongi were the only ones left in class, wiping down the counters. You were leaned over one side and Yoongi was on the other. Your backs faced each other but you can feel his eyes on you every now and again. You want to say something. You should say something.

‘Stop being a pussy and just say it, Y/N’

“You’re...” You paused, trying to find the right words to say. Yoongi stopped too, putting down his rag to look at you curiously.

“Yes?”

You felt your face get uncontrollably warm noticing his smile, which grew wider when he realized you were blushing.

‘Sick bastard actually likes this’ You think, pouting.

“You’re actually a really good cook...” You mumble, turning back around to wipe clean the spotless counter.

“Really?”

You nod, not daring to look back. Your ears are hot and you can’t even begin to imagine how red your face must be.

You feel arms wrap around you and your breath hitches.

“Oh shit, I-” Yoongi jumps back, his arms fleeting away from you like your body was just aflame. “I’m so sorry, my dumbass thought that would actually work.”

“Huh?” You finally turn around, confused, dazed, and . But thank God Yoongi couldn’t see it at the moment, busy looking down and digging the toe of his sneaker into the ground.

“I asked my friends for advice on how to deal with a girl I like, and... it’s you... and even though I knew it was stupid and honestly kinda creepy, I tried it anyways because I really like you and...” He sighs heavily and buries his face in his hands. “Oh my God, I’m an idiot.”

You can’t help but crack a smile at his unexpected adorableness. “Yeah, a cute idiot.”

Now it was Yoongi’s turn to look up, utterly confused. “Huh?”

How could you still be here, let alone with a smile on your face, after he completely humiliated himself like the moron he is?

“You’re cute, Yoongi. And... what was that about the girl you like?”

Yoongi groans and throws his body atop the counter, hiding his face in shame. You giggle, enjoying the teasing. You skip over and tap him on the shoulder. “Huh, Yoongi? What was that?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “Nothing, I gotta go meet a friend, I-I’ll see you later Y/N.”

He suddenly stands, and you notice his face is really red, putting your blush to shame.

“Sorry.” He apologizes, pushing past you and ripping off his apron, hanging it up hastily before running out the door, backpack barely on. You have a wave of dread wash over you and you feel terribly guilty, did you go too far?

You’re about to go follow follow him to apologize when you find a little sticky note on your backpack.

Movies after school on Friday? :]

- m.y

You smile, and notice a flicker of movement out the door.

Yoongi is standing there, peering in shyly at you. His eyes widen when he realizes he’s been spotted and he groans again, hiding his face in his hands again and throwing himself at the wall, utterly embarrassed.

“You’re adorable, Min Yoongi!”

You call after him as he runs down the hall, hand still up but it’s not enough to contain his heavy blush or wide smile.

✎ _______________________

Hoseok

“Wait, what do we do again? Teache-”

“Hobi, everytime you ask her a question, we lose marks!” You hiss, covering his mouth with your hand. You feel something wet against your palm and you yank it away with a shriek as Hoseok cackles. He just licked you.

“You’re disgusting.” You mutter as he rolls his eyes. You wipe your hand down his arm and now you’re the one cackling as he whines about his slobbered-up sleeve.

“Okay Y/N, but what about the burritos? We have no clue what we’re doing.” He brings you back to earth to face the task you both have at hand.

You look at the recipe in your hand, and back at the counter covered in ingredients of any and all sorts.

“...I’m sure we can work it out.”

You did not work it out. Instead, you worked it in. The opposite of out.

Which means, you did not make a burrito. If you’re being 100% honest, you don’t even know what you made. All you do know is that you tried to make a burrito, and that you’ll probably have to take this class again next semester.

“If I do, I sure hope you’re not in my class...” You mumble as you clean the inside of the microwave. Sticky residue that the beans and cheese left behind have you reaching in weird angles, and a pain in your shoulder grows as you scrub harder.

“Excuse me Y/N, we failed this course together. Of course I’m going to be in your class.” Hoseok scoffed.

“I actually hate you.”

“Do you really?” Hoseok pouts from his place on the floor, where he was mopping up tortilla crumbs and more beans. You nod affirmatively with a contradicting blush. “With my whole heart.”

“What heart?”

You gasp back at him and he laughs, pointing teasingly at your incredulous face.

“Eat my ass.”

“What ass?”

“Jung Hoseok!”

You turn around and whip him with the rag, making him wince and shriek as he tries to escape your tyranny. You both run laps around the class, twisting and turning, opening fridge doors to use as shields and jumping over counters from one kitchen to the next. There might as well have been footprints on the wall.

“Time out!” He screams, waving a white towel in surrender on the other side of the room. You smirk, accepting victory and turning back around to get back to cleaning your kitchen.

“YEET!”

You hear Hoseok scream, and you feel him tackle you, arms wrapping around your sides and holding your arms down tightly.

“HOSEOK, LET ME GO!” You cry, laughing as he swings you around.

“Nope! You’re my to-OOOOOY!”

He screeched as he lost balance, slipping on the beans he discarded after your battle. And he brought you down with him, like a boat’s anchor.

You squealed as your bodies hit the floor, Hoseok’s arms still wrapped around you. You distinctly felt his hand cradling your head before you both collided on the ground.

You both lay there, panting on the ground, with your body atop Hoseok’s, his hand still protectively over your head.

“You okay?”

He gasps out. You lift your head from where it hid in his shoulder and nod, gulping when you realize that your noses are practically touching.

“I...” Hoseok doesn’t know what exactly to say. Neither do you. The space between you two is so small, it’s barely an inch.

‘I could kiss him so easily right now,’ You ponder distantly, stealing a glance at his lips. They’re pink and heart-shaped and oh-so lovely.

His breath is warm and it does nothing to help hide your spreading blush.

“Um, thanks for... protecting me, I guess.” You gently place your hand on his hand, where it still lay atop your head.

“You guess?” Hoseok raises a brow playfully. “I guess I didn’t want to you to hit your head and smash your face against the floor.”

You both laugh, and you’re grateful that Hoseok knows how to ease an awkward situation.

“Oh shut up, I know you’d throw me down the stairs the second you’d get the chance.”

Hoseok’s smile doesn’t falter, but the emotion in his eyes change to something a bit... brighter.

“Never. Why would I throw my crush down the stairs?”

“Your what?” Your eyes widen in shock. A moment later, his do too, and he’s covering his mouth with his hands in surprise.

“Oh shit.” He says quietly. You get off his chest, but your legs are still around his waist.

“Forget I said anything, I-I wasn’t thinking, I-” He stutters in panic and disbelief at what he just did. He really just outed himself like that. To you. To your face. By accident. On the foods room floor.

You stare at him pointedly. “Hobi, your face is red. Really red.”

Hoseok’s eyes grow as wide as saucers with panic and he covers his face with his hands in a flash. “No it’s not.

“Hoseok...” You narrow your eyes at him.

Hoseok turns away from you, squirming and whining. You smile fondly. You always adored his stupid noises.

“Jung Hoseok!”

You pin his arms above his head and he’s forced to look at you with a pout.

“What?”

You can tell he’s trying not to smile, so you take the challenge. Your eyes sparkle with determination and he notices, gulping nervously with concealed excitement.

You kiss him.

You break the short distance and kiss him, with all the guts you have.

Innocently, sweetly, nothing serious, just lips on lips. It’s your first kiss, you’re not an expert.

But it’s enough to break Hoseok into a smile, wide and face-splitting. He’s grinning ear-to-ear when you pull away, and his arms break free from your hold to wrap around your waist.

“What does this mean?” He asks after moments of staring up at you. You roll your eyes and kiss between his brows.

“It means I like you, dumbass.”

“Aww, I like me too!”

You grab the ‘innocent flag’ towel off the floor and whack him upside the head with it. “Eat my ass, Jung Hoseok.”

He grins devilishly, smacking your butt harshly, making you gasp.

“What ass?”

✎ _______________________

Author’s Note :

I’m prepared to fight each and every one of these boys for making me catch feelings through a sCREEN.

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twodaysintojune · 4 years

Text

After the Storm

Part Eleven of In The Beginning - Gabriel’s Origins Supernatural, Gabriel, Warnings-None.

@archangelgabriellives One Shot’s Masterlist, Long Stories Masterlist

Find me at AO3

“I don’t care about them!”

A rogue wave crashed against the iceberg.

“They don’t care about me!”

A piece of the iceberg went down.

“I could even destroy all of this and no one would care!”

Gabriel screamed and sent out a wave of grace and power in frustration and broke the massive piece of ice apart. His breath was irregular and rough and he was still upset but that at least helped him diffuse a little. His shoulders slumped and somehow, at one point, his jagged breath turned into sobs.

He descended over another floating piece of ice and knelt upon the surface. The night was clear and the milky way filled the entire sky. The lack of strong winds made this a perfect night to look at the stars but all Gabriel could do was cry.

He cried and cried and cried, wondering where he had gone wrong and how he could not have seen it. He cried for hours, probably days, until his vessel felt just as bad and spent as a normal, tired, desperate human being could feel.

He fell to his side and stayed lying in fetal position over the treacherously hard exposed layer of ice. He sighed and allowed himself to stop focusing on anything at all, letting the consciousness of all surrounding living beings clutter his own with all sorts of random thoughts proper of nature.

Hours passed and then some days, and then some months and then some years. A layer of crystalized water lifted from the ocean by the wind had already covered his figure but he still didn’t move. He didn’t have to in the end. Even when he could feel the cold seep through his pores, even when he could feel the stabbing air surrounding his makeshift tomb, he was not going to die. Nothing could kill him. He was an Archangel.

No.

He was a God. And his people might need him.

Gabriel sighed. A blessing of narwhals passed by hundreds of meters below him, below the thick layer of ice. Finally, Gabriel moved his body, cracking his blanket of ice and laid on his back to properly look at the firmament above. A fleeting wonder for his brothers went through his mind but he quickly waved it away and sat. He looked around, wondering what he could do now.

He didn't even consider going back to Heaven. He knew there was nothing there for him. And he knew there was nothing in Asgard either. He had to find a new place to go; a new place to call home and he wondered, Had I been Loki, the real Loki, where would I have gone?

“Might as well ask.” Gabriel decided and flapped his wings once.

He appeared hidden several metres behind him. He always did it that way since they never knew who could be watching and he immediately felt disoriented. He knew for a fact that he was standing on a hill where several sacrifices had been done in his name and yet, now, a church stood at the top. It wasn't called a church yet, but Gabriel clearly felt the pull of adoration towards the heavens; people praying inside. He paced slowly towards it until he was by Loki's side.

"What in the Nine Realms?"

Loki sighed. "Some are calling it the true religion. I'm calling it bullshit."

He turned his back and began to stride away.

"W… what are you doing then? Why are you walking away?"

“Because there’s no point in trying.”

“What do you mean there’s no point in trying? We could subject them! Fill them with fear!”

“And that is exactly the problem, my boy.” Loki turned to face Gabriel. “Their hearts have already been filled with fear, and this one is much more profound.”

“So what are you going to do now?”

“Go back to the woods, stay for my most loyal people. Away from this madness.”

“So you’re pretty much running away? Going in hiding among those who adore you? If you’re going to be there then what am I supposed to do!?”

Loki sighed, frustrated. “I don’t know Gabriel, figure it out! It’s been a long time since you stopped being a child! Besides, weren’t you the one who first ran away from home? You should already know what to do on your own.”

Gabriel saw Loki walk away from the hill, eventually disappearing into the woods. He had not been able to think of anything to say back with the sudden lash he had received but it didn’t help his mood at all. A person pulled his sleeve to call his attention. A beggar.

“Sir, a coin, please.”

Gabriel saw the man, saw his life, saw his deeds and that his greed had been what had initially plunged him into economic misery. He was already paying for his sins and regretful. Gabriel granted him a couple of copper pieces worthy of three meals. The man beamed and teared a little.

“Thank you kind Sir! You’ll earn a place on the Heavens.”

The man’s face turned into fear when he saw Gabriel’s features turn dark and fierce.

“Do not speak to me about Heaven.”

Fuming, he flapped his wings and went away. Loki smiled proudly behind the first rows of trees and sighed, relieved that Gabriel would keep his promise and stay away from the affairs of his kind.

Tibet. The place had nothing to do with what Gabriel was used to, and that was exactly the reason he had decided to stay there. Barren rocks were struck by cold wind day and night. Vibrant and colorful streaks of fabric of the nomads coming and going. He didn’t remember when he arrived but he did clearly know that it had been some time since the politics about the place have changed.

Like many other days, he was looking at the distance, sitting at the edge of the railing surrounding the building. The Dalai Lama came and joined his silent contemplation for a while. He finally spoke.

“I believe it is time that our honoured guest leaves the place.”

“Are you sacking me now, old hag?”

Calling him “old hag” was a bit too much from Gabriel considering this Lama was around his twenties, but Gabriel knew best. He had seen the soul of his predecessor leave his body and run to dive into a recently conceived body thrice already. And he was definitely not up to seeing how on earth this particular soul was able to do that while the rest properly went up or down. Maybe the man had found out some sort of cheat code on his first life.

The Lama smirked, “I am not sacking you as much as you are sacking yourself.” He reclined himself against the railing to properly face Gabriel, who was looking at him confused. “I have seen you sitting here, in this very place, life after life. And you are looking for something but have not found it yet. It is not illumination, since you do not look into our teachings. This means that it is time for you to go away, back to the world.”

Gabriel’s eyes widened. The sharpness of this man’s mind always impressed him, even when it annoyed him a bit that he had been able to see so easily into him; particularly because he had not realized that he was, indeed, looking for something and he was pretty much stalling.

“Well then, where should I go?”

“I guess that answer depends on what you want to achieve.”

Gabriel sighed. He knew that the man was right. He was only there because he was running away from all his problems and all his indecisiveness and really, all he wanted to do was just live without a single preoccupation, but for some reason every time he had involved himself with other people things never turned out right.

Maybe the problem was in himself. Maybe that was the reason that he still felt like he was not at peace. Maybe the Lama was right and he should go out and see if he could find a way to be happy, because even when he was not having any problems here, he didn’t feel happy at all.

He clicked his tongue, “What the heck, maybe you’re right, old hag. See ya later. Well, probably not the you from right now.”

The Lama gave him a wide smile and saw him disappear.

Gabriel had never placed a foot in Ireland before but he liked it. The evergreens reminded him of his past home at the fjords but it definitely was not the same geography, which was a nice change. Like always, the reason he had chosen the place was because of all the things he didn’t want rather than the ones he did.

He didn’t want problems, he didn’t want to face any of his past peers, either Heavenly or Asgardian and he didn’t want to be alone. The closest place he could think about was Ireland. He had never seen nor met the Fae Folk and this time seemed just as good as any to finally get acquainted with the Queen. Fixing his clothes to be a little bit more presentable, he walked towards a fairy ring and purposefully crossed the threshold into the realm of the Fae.

The Fae folk lived free and careless. They ruled themselves by their own hand and respected each other as equals. Their nature was such that they recognized each other as kindred spirits no matter how visibly different their shapes would be. With that in mind, landing there as a pagan god was as much a stealth mission as trying to serve oneself a bowl of cereal in the middle of the night at five years old while your parents are sleeping in their bed. That was to mean, impossible.

The moment he was on the other side, he felt hundreds of curious eyes peeking at him. A jackalope approached him and stood upright with importance.

“Greetings” Gabriel approached the jackalope. “I am here today requesting for a meeting with your Queen in order to introduce myself. My name is—”

“Loki” Said the jackalope with a singing voice, “We know of you. Of all the gods.” The jackalope jumped a couple of steps away and turned towards Gabriel. “Well, come around now!”

Gabriel walked slightly behind the jackalope towards a hill that was no different than the other except for the fact that it was covered with white flowers. The jackalope stopped and turned around.

“She will come see you when the time is right.”

The jackalope ran towards a burrow and hid inside, leaving Gabriel alone. He looked around, waiting for something, anything, and when nothing seemed to come Gabriel sighed and sat on a flat rock that looked perfect just for that. A couple of minutes later, he heard a rustling behind. He turned around and met a Leprechaun, small enough that he couldn’t even reach his knee. The Fae stopped in his tracks.

“Oh darn the luck, I thought I had you.”

Gabriel snickered. “Hello my fellow...”

“O’Leary, you can call me O’Leary.” The tiny man shaped figure stretched his hand towards Gabriel who took it and gave it a shake.

“Loki.”

“You know better than most to give away your name like that.”

“I know better than most that some rules only apply to humans and those of their nature.”

O’Leary grinned a wicked smile, teeth showing up in a serrated pattern that Gabriel would not normally put to this type of creature. He sat by Gabriel’s side.

“So, what does a God of Tricks and Mischief do in our realm?”

“I’m waiting for your Queen.”

“Did she say she’d come?”

“She will come in time.”

“It’s not usual for her to show up right away. You might have to wait a looooong time.”

“I am no human, I don’t have urgent business to attend.”

O’Leary hummed in approval. “I like you. I thought you’d be more of a conceited asshole.”

“What can I say, maybe it’s because I’m adopted.”

O’Leary cackled with that laughter that shakes the entire body, he then slapped Gabriel’s thigh.

“Say, don’t you wanna come with me and prank someone?”

O’Leary jumped and began to dash away, turning after a couple of metres to see if Gabriel was still behind him. Gabriel looked at him for a second and pondered if it was okay to leave. He thought of all the time he spent by Kali’s side, first trying to woo her, then trying to keep her and then all the time he spent in self retreat. It had been long since he’d last played a trick on someone, anyone. He stood up, eyes shining bright just like his smile and paced behind the little folk with a mischievous snicker.

#in the beginning #gabriel #gabriel supernatural #archangel gabriel #fanfiction #fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic

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jlalafics · 5 years

Text

“Rent Control”-Epilogue

We’re here! I can’t tell you how much fun I had writing this!

Anyway, I plan to put this on FFn and AO3 some time next week so you can read the whole thing uninterrupted.

Also, just to warn you. This is LONG.

If you haven’t read the other parts, follow the links below:

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Summary: Katniss Everdeen has found the perfect home in San Francisco—great neighborhood, an easy commute and, best of all, it’s rent controlled. There’s only one problem; the landlord will only rent to a married couple.

Enter Peeta Mellark.

_____

Rent Control

Epilogue: One Year Later

“Rue, I want the buffet to go here.” Katniss pointed to the back of the space, adjacent to the living wall. “Presents will go on the round table that we’re setting up at the entrance. The table linens are coming with Annie and Finnick—I found them at this awesome vintage shop in Oakland. They’ll be great if we ever decide to have any other special events…” She turned to the young girl. “Anything else that I’m missing?”

Rue chuckled as she ticked things off the iPad she carried in her hands.

“How about breathing? Seems like you missed it during that entire conversation.”

“Very funny, smartass,” Katniss retorted though she smiled fondly at the girl. “Sometimes I wonder why Peeta and I hired you.”

“Because I am the S-H-I-T…and because I can make a kickass Kouign-amann,” Rue replied, her grin just as affectionate towards Katniss.

Katniss nodded. “True.” She took a deep breath. “I just want everything to be perfect tomorrow for them. They’ve waited for so long…”

“It’s going to be great,” Rue assured her. “Now, you need to relax…have you even eaten?”

“No, just been busy and it escaped my mind.” Katniss sighed. “I could go for a cheese bun.”

Rue scrunched her nose. “Oh God—is that what you and Peeta call it now?”

“No, she’s actually really into my buns.”

Peeta appeared before them with a tray in his hand. Pressing a quick kiss to Katniss’ lips and placing the tray on an empty table, he presented her with a cheese bun which she took and began to eat with relish.

“I do love Peeta’s buns…” She winked at the man before her, cheeks full of food. “Among other things.”

Rue rolled her eyes at them. “You two disgust me. Go get a room—or an alley.”

“Now why would we do that when have those awesome mirrors Johanna gifted us in the back?” Peeta said with a smirk.

“I thought you said those were there so we could all keep an eye on each other in the kitchen!” Rue exclaimed. “Now I will never be able to make anything in there!”

“So, we’ll see you tomorrow?” Katniss asked, finishing off the rest of the bun as she wrapped an arm around Peeta’s waist.

“Yeah…but only because I really like cake!” Rue told them as she gathered her things off the counter next to her. “And, Annie’s potato salad!”

In a huff, the girl marched through the revolving door going to the back of the building.

Peeta and Katniss looked to one another, identical grins on their faces. Hand in hand, they went to the front where a long communal table stood and Peeta helped Katniss step onto the adjoining bench to sit on the wood surface before joining her.

When they were settled, they turned to one another.

“Happy Anniversary,” Peeta told her.

Katniss smiled and took his hand. “Happy Anniversary.”

Together, they turned to look out the front window of the Mellark Bakery, content in the moment and with one another.

++++++

“You won’t even tell me?” Katniss asked as she followed Peeta out of the kitchen.

“No,” he responded firmly as he went to the buffet table. Taking the piping bag, Peeta examined the three-tier cake before going to the middle tier and adding another perfect white frosting flower. “You also made me promise not to tell you.”

“You’re mean!” she responded petulantly. “See if I ever go down on you again.”

“Gross.”

Annie and Finnick, along with the rest of their brood, entered the bakery. Jack—now four—immediately went to Peeta to show him the Pokéball that he had in his grasp. Sarah and Rose dispersed to run around the bakery to which Finnick managed to wrangle one of the twins.

“Rose, we don’t run around Uncle Peeta’s bakery!” he told the girl in his arms.

“Sarah!” the one-year-old replied.

“Oops—sorry, kid,” her father replied sheepishly.

“I am so glad that we decided on that vasectomy,” Annie said as she went to hug Katniss. “Also—really gross. Why were you talking about ‘going down?’”

“Peeta won’t tell me,” Katniss informed her.

“Yeah, well that’s why we’re having this shindig—” her friend said as she placed the large bowl on the buffet table. “—so we can all find out as a family.”

“Actually…” The tips of Finnick’s ears went red. “Peeta kind of told me already.”

Annie’s brows furrowed at her husband. “Well…no head for you, either!”

“Are we interrupting something?”

Beetee stepped into the bakery along with Wiress, bright smiles on their faces.

“No, just some marital corporal punishment,” Peeta told the couple. “Speaking of which—congratulations on the engagement!” He placed a kiss on Wiress’ cheek before shaking Beetee’s hand. “Santorini must have been good for you.”

“And, check out that rock!” Katniss said after embracing Wiress.

“Beetee knew how I felt about diamonds,” Wiress explained with a gentle smile. “So, he came up with this lovely thing…and I couldn’t be more thrilled.”

“It originates from the 1920’s,” Beetee said as they stared at the ring. “The ruby is still in great shape and that design for the setting—they don’t make them like this anymore.”

“Wow…” Katniss was impressed; the ring was a work of art with its intricate carvings and a setting made to look like the ruby was the center of a golden-petaled flower.

Her gaze went from the ring to meet Peeta and she found him staring at her, a strange expression in his eyes.

Katniss could usually read him like a book—but this look was different.

“Hello! Hello!”

Everyone cheered as the celebrant entered the bakery.

Effie was glowing.

In the voluminous emerald dress, she looked like Mother Earth herself.

Well, her belly was about as round as the earth.

Haymitch followed, looking perfectly respectable in a dress shirt and slacks, his dark hair tied back.

Taking a deep breath, she looked to Peeta whose gaze went tender as he reached for her.

Together, they went to greet the soon-to-be parents.

++++++

“You two did really well,” Daphne said to Katniss and Peeta as she looked at the buffet table approvingly.

It was a great array of food; Annie’s potato salad and fried chicken—signatures from her restaurant, empanadas from a nearby Spanish restaurant, fresh salads created by Katniss’ mother, and Peeta’s three-tier cake with the ‘Hey Baby!’ topper made by Prim, who was a master calligrapher.

“We’re actually going to be partnering with Annie’s restaurant to create a new lunch dish,” Peeta said, his arm around Katniss. “Katniss thought about it. My brioche buns with Annie’s fried chicken. Robin taught Katniss how to make her slaw, so they’re pairing it with that. Should debut by the end of the month.”

“Perfect,” his mother replied. “I’ll have your father update the website to announce it.”

“I’ll take a picture when it’s out for our Instagram,” Katniss offered.

His mother beamed at Katniss. “You found yourself a good partner.”

“Don’t I know it,” Peeta agreed.

“Oh! There’s your mother,” Daphne told Katniss. “We went to Manhattan for a girls’ night and ended up backstage at Hamilton! Can you believe it? I’m going to see if she brought the pictures!”

With that, she rushed over to Katniss’ mother and the two hugged excitedly before they began to peruse Robin’s iPhone.

“That’s so creepy,” Katniss said.

Peeta grinned at her. “What? The fact that they had a girls’ night and are so far from that? Or that whenever they are with each other they become teenagers?”

“I don’t know…I didn’t think that they’d be so close…after everything,” she admitted.

Katniss looked around at the crowd of people who had come to Effie and Haymitch’s Baby Shower and Gender Reveal—the motif was a sage (and neutral) green.

A lot had changed; she was no longer at Johanna’s, instead becoming the designer for the bakery. Peeta had convinced her that it would be great for her portfolio. Together, they had come up with a cohesive design that gave the bakery its homey yet eclectic vibe. There was soft wood and greenery everywhere; there was no disposable ware, only large, thick mugs and glazed plates—very hygge.

Eventually, Katniss had transitioned into Business Manager to do the hiring. Rue was a recent graduate from the San Francisco Culinary Institute, and she couldn’t come more highly recommended as a candidate for Assistant Baker. She was creative and kind, eager to learn, and they took to her immediately. She hired a few more people for front-of-house including Finch, Rue’s roommate and Thresh, who decided to follow Peeta after he quit the coffee shop.

Johanna, who was currently chatting up one of the Haymitch’s co-workers, a tall drink of water with thick-framed glasses, encouraged her to spread her wings. Prim, bored with the East Coast and longing for adventure, took Katniss’ place at the boutique and was living in the Mission District above a bar that she occasionally bartended for.

Katniss’ gaze drifted to Effie and Haymitch. Her landlords looked jubilant; Effie caressing the bump that had surprised all of them seven months ago.

The Abernathys were celebrating their anniversary at the time. Everyone had joined them for dinner in the apartment’s backyard. Wine bottles were opened, some questionable things were smoked…and by morning, the Abernathys were found under their lemon tree, covered in a picnic blanket and wearing nothing under it.

A few weeks after that, Katniss and Peeta had their grand opening.

It had gone perfectly—until Effie vomited at their front entrance.

They assured her that she was ‘christening’ their new business when, in actuality, a little peanut was currently lounging in her uterus.

It had happened—the long-awaited Abernathy child had come.

“I think it’s time for them to do the reveal,” Peeta said into Katniss’ ear.

She nodded in agreement. “Everyone’s had their fill. I’ll let Rue know to grab the cake knife in the back.”

Peeta went to the couple to lead them over to the cake that would tell them their baby’s gender.

He winked at her before guiding Haymitch and Effie away.

Then, there were herself and Peeta.

Financially and in their work lives, they were doing great.

However, after their pretend nuptials, they had gone into a standstill. They were perfectly content for a while, unmarried and living in sin.

Lately, however, she had felt a longing.

And, as Katniss looked around at their family and friends, moving along in their personal lives, she realized that she wanted more.

She wanted them to be real.

Katniss wanted to get married.

++++++

“Before our soon-to-be parents cut the cake, does anyone have guesses on the gender?” Stephen called out to the crowd.

Everyone had gathered around the cake table excitedly waiting for the cake to be cut. His mother and Robin were already taking photos on their phones of the couple as Thresh—a budding photographer—took a few shots on his old Canon. Prim was quietly taking bets; the pool was already in the mid-hundreds, and the bets went from how much Baby Abernathy would weigh to how long into labor would Effie finally snap at Haymitch for impregnating her.

“I’m pretty sure, girl or boy, it’s going to be a dick,” Peeta’s father responded with a smirk.

“Christopher!” Effie put her hands to the sides of her belly. “Not in front of my baby!”

Haymitch guffawed. “He’s got a point there. No matter what gender, he or she is coming out with a set of balls and a penchant for rebellion.”

“Well, you’re as ready as you’ll ever be,” Beetee assured them good-naturedly. “So, come on—just do it already!”

“That’s what Effie said,” Finnick cackled.

Effie looked to Jack. “Cover your eyes, sweetheart.”

The little boy followed instructions and Effie immediately flipped Finnick the bird.

“I thought you said no cursing,” Finnick retorted.

“I wasn’t speaking, I was gesturing,” Effie said testily. She whipped over to her husband. “Now give me the knife.”

“No, I think I’ll keep any weaponry for now, sweetheart,” Haymitch said.

Together, they turned to the cake, and Haymitch quickly cut into it revealing the bright blue of the delicate sponge.

There was a collective scream as everyone rushed forward to congratulate the couple.

Peeta and Katniss hung back, content to watch the jubilee by one of the posts of the bakery. His girlfriend leaned back against him and he wrapped his arms around Katniss’ waist.

“You happy?” Peeta whispered into her ear.

“Oh yeah,” Katniss mused. “How could we not be happy about a little Haymitch in the world?”

“You know that kid is going to be all Effie,” he responded. “She is going to spoil the shit out of him!”

“True, but they deserve to,” his girlfriend said. “They waited for so long.”

Peeta looked around; their world was changing rapidly. Almost two years ago, Katniss was just the pretty girl from a boutique who he low-key had a crush on—and fantasized about during cold San Francisco nights.

Now, they were running a business together, living together, and just falling more for each other as time wore on. Peeta couldn’t even remember a time when he wasn’t waking up next to her gorgeous face. He didn’t want to imagine it.

He had always wanted Katniss in his life—and Peeta hoped that she wanted the same.

Because locked in his desk in the back was a ring.

Beetee wasn’t the only one who went vintage.

++++++

“You are stressing out, sis,” Prim remarked.

“I know, I know…” Katniss admitted as they walked around the CityTarget. “I’ve been so busy with the bakery that I haven’t had time to buy stuff for the apartment. We ran out of toilet paper last night—and it was during a time when one of us was prairie dogging.”

“Egads!” They reached the aisle with the toilet paper and Prim threw in several value packs into the cart. “Take as much as you can! Geez, you’re making co-habitation real appealing.”

“You lived with me for years,” Katniss retorted.

“Well, I was a kid for a majority of it—I didn’t know any better,” Prim said with a grin. “Really though, you seem kind of…not-so-fresh looking.”

“I’ve been feeling not-so-fresh.” Katniss pushed the cart towards the health aisle. The bakery needed more bandages for the first aid kit. “Now that the baby shower is over, I thought I’d feel better, but I’m not.”

Prim peered at her. “You getting sick? Peeta holding out on you?”

“I’m fine,” Katniss insisted though she yawned. “And, Peeta never holds out, especially since I’ve been super into him lately.”

Her sister raised an interested brow. “Explain.”

“Like for the last week, I’ve been obsessed with his…scent,” Katniss told her as she grabbed a value pack of bandages. “Literally, I wanted to lick the sweat off of him.”

“You freak nasty!” Prim bounced next to her. “I’m so proud.”

“So, that’s not weird?” Katniss asked, continuing down the aisle as she looked at the list on her phone.

“Well, we all have fluctuating hormones during our cycles,” Prim informed her.

“Hmm.” Katniss checked off the bandages, her next destination was dental floss.

She stopped, her brain connecting every symptom she had been experiencing into one realization.

Her eyes darted to the display in front of her.

Pregnancy tests—and they were all on sale.

Prim looked to her then to the display then to her sister once more. “Ohh…shit.”

Katniss could only agree to the sentiment.

++++++

“How long do these things usually take?” Katniss asked as she sat on one of the couches in Johanna’s boutique.

“Pretty quickly,” Johanna said as she looked at the three sticks assembled on the counter. “They all say ‘Pregnant.’”

Katniss shot up and rushed over, her eyes bulging as she looked at the three identical tests. “No.”

“That explains the whole sweat obsession,” Prim said.

Johanna looked to Prim. “Do I want to know?”

“Not really,” she replied. Prim put a hand over Katniss’ trembling one. “So…are we happy?”

Katniss took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment to just regroup.

She had always wanted children. Yes, it wasn’t expected and it was pretty early in the relationship; they were practically infants when it came to the relationship game in comparison to everyone around them.

However, Katniss couldn’t imagine having children with anyone but Peeta. She could see him with their child, teaching him or her to bake bread. Other images of their life with their little bun flashed in her mind…walks through Golden Gate Park, picking out the best ingredients for the bakery at Farmers’ Markets, falling asleep on their cozy couch in front of the fireplace during Christmas…

Finally, Katniss opened her eyes.

“Yes. We’re happy,” she told her sister and Johanna.

Prim reached over to embrace her. “Congratulations!”

Johanna joined in, a wisp of a tear in her usually sharp eyes.

“He or she is going to be the best dressed kid in San Francisco, thanks to Auntie Johanna!”

Prim pulled away to look at her sister. “So, how are you going to tell Peeta?”

“I don’t know—” She gathered them back together. “Just keep hugging me!”

++++++

“This is a bit of a surprise,” Robin remarked. Next to her, her husband flipped through a copy of the San Francisco Chronicle as his own father looked through an old copy of People that had been lying on their coffee table.

“I know!” his mother, who joined Robin on the lounger, added. “We never get invited here!”

The door opened and Prim stepped in along with his brothers.

Peeta had told Katniss to expect Bran and Alex as they wanted to check out the bakery, having missed out on the grand opening.

“Sorry! I get so confused at SFO!” Prim explained as she took of her coat and when to greet her parents and his own parents. “Took me forever to find the right terminal!”

Bran and Alex immediately tackled Peeta, sandwiching him before he could stop them.

“Guys!” he yelled. “You’re here because I have something serious to talk about!”

“We know,” Bran replied. “But there is something important that needs to happen.”

Peeta shook his head. “NO.”

Alex smirked. “Yes, little brother—the Mellark round-up.”

Together, Bran and Alex began to jump up and down.

“Mellark! Mellark! Mellark!”

Then, if Peeta wasn’t embarrassed enough, his mother and father joined in.

“Mellark, Mellark, Mellark!”

His mom was getting incredible jumps despite being in the sharpest heels imaginable.

“What is going on here?” Effie had arrived, along with Haymitch, who was greeting Stephen and Robin. “Daphne, you’ll destroy your Louboutins!”

“When there is a Mellark roundup, you must roundup,” his mother replied simply as she stepped away and rushed forward to hug Effie.

“Annie and Finnick should be coming soon,” Effie told the group as she plopped down on the space that Robin made for her on the couch. Katniss’ mother helped put a pillow behind Effie’s lower back. Their landlord sighed in contentment. “You’re a lifesaver, Robin. It takes me forever to get off our couch…”

“Won’t be much longer, I’m sure,” Robin assured her.

“Good, because I’m seriously done with this,” Effie said.

Finnick and Annie, along with Beetee, followed along a few minutes later. Wiress would be watching the Odair children who were all having their afternoon naps.

Once everyone was seated, Peeta settled himself in front of the group.

“First, thanks for coming,” he began. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while and I—”

“You want to propose to Katniss,” Haymitch stated. “I mean, it’s not exactly brain science.”

The door clicked and Johanna rushed in. “Sorry, I’m late! What did I miss?”

“Captain Obvious just stated the obvious,” Alex informed her with a wink. “Or in the simplest of terms, my baby brother is finally proposing to the woman who he was supposed to be married to a year ago.”

“Oh.” Johanna looked to Prim, who shook her head. “That’s great…”

Peeta immediately sensed something wrong in their expressions.

“What?” He took a gulping breath. “She’s not ready, right? Or, maybe she’s having second thoughts?” A sharp squeak escaped his throat. “I think I’m might be hyperventilating—”

“You’re overreacting,” his mother said, interrupting his moment of panic. “If you know Katniss like I know you do, you will know that she loves you.”

“And, that she wants more than anything to be with you forever,” Robin added, a tender smile on her face.

Stephen put his arm around his wife before looking to Peeta. “So, what do you want us to do?”

“Help me figure out how to propose to her,” he replied, his eyes going around the room. “Everyone in this room knows Katniss and me better than anybody else in the world. And, I just want this to be…perfect.”

“It will be, because it’s coming from you,” Beetee said sincerely. “However, if we’re trying to get organized, we first have to establish when.”

“That’s simple,” Stephen said. “Katniss’ birthday is in two weeks.” He looked around the room. “It would be the perfect excuse if she asks why everyone is here.”

“How about we all meet up again in like two days or something?” Annie suggested. “Before then, let’s all come up with some ideas to talk about during the meet-up.”

Everyone agreed to her plan.

“Peeta, why don’t we talk about Katniss’ likes and dislikes?” his father suggested. “Might help get everyone’s minds going.”

“Sure,” Peeta replied as he began to pace. “She’s not big on loud functions or anything where she’s in big crowds…can’t stand artichokes—thinks they’re wasteful…hates people who talk on those earbuds that aren’t connected to anything.” He paused, smiling to himself. “She loves sunsets…cheese buns…and—”

“Your penis?” Prim interrupted.

“Primrose Everdeen!” Her mother scolded.

“Come on, mom,” Prim said. “What did you think they did—sleep side by side in spacesuits?”

“No, but no need to be crude,” Robin admonished.

“So…two days?” Johanna called out.

“Two days!” everyone agreed.

+++++++

Prim grabbed Johanna’s arm as soon as they walked out of Katniss and Peeta’s apartment. Her parents and the Mellarks were already congregated at Haymitch and Effie’s for drinks before heading back to the rented home they were sharing while in the city.

“What the hell was that?” she asked her boss. “You almost gave the news away!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was coming into a meeting like that,” Johanna said. “I actually thought it had something to do with Katniss’ birthday.” She blew out a breath. “They’re going to have so much on their plate.”

“Well, it’s not our plate to worry about,” Prim told her firmly. “Just keep cool until Katniss figures out how to tell Peeta the news.”

“What news?”

They both jumped and turned to find Bran and Alex before them.

“Nothing!” they chorused together.

“Please.” Alex put an arm around Johanna. “How can you resist a Mellark?”

She threw his arm off her shoulders. “Very easily.”

“Come on, sis,” Bran pleaded. “Katniss has news? She’s not really breaking up with him, is she?”

Prim snorted. “Get a grip, bro. My sister is so into to Peeta that she told me—just a few days ago—she literally wants to lick the sweat off him.”

“More than I needed to hear,” Bran said.

“I want to hear more!” Alex responded. “Just more stuff I have on little brother.”

Prim walked towards the stairs, ignoring the Mellark brothers as they started a chorus of ‘Please!’. She was never good with being pressured and had a penchant to snap.

Katniss was much more impenetrable—except when it came to Peeta, apparently.

“Please leave it be! Katniss will tell Peeta about the baby when she’s good and ready!”

Her eyes squeezed shut when she realized what she said—SHIT!

The door of the Abernathy apartment opened slowly.

Taking a deep breath, Prim prepared herself for the onslaught of questions.

“Five, four, three, two, one—”

Her mother responded first, tears thick in her voice. “Your sister is pregnant?”

Swiveling around, Prim saw the heads of her parents, the elder Mellarks, and the Abernathys sticking out of the apartment door. In front of her, Bran and Alex stood, their jaws hanging open to which Johanna tried to push Alex’s up.

She turned to respond to her mother.

“Yes, Katniss is. No, I don’t know how long. She went to an appointment to confirm it today. I don’t know anything else. Above all—no one can tell Peeta!”

There was a collective nod and everyone stepped back so Haymitch could close the door.

With a wink at her, he closed it behind him.

“You are not good at keeping secrets,” Alex concluded with a grin.

“I know…” Her hopefully-soon-to-be brother walked over and gave her a hug. “At least I’ll be the baby’s favorite aunt. You and Bran can fight over who’s favorite uncle.”

He pulled away. “Not fair! Bran can actually get the kid a pony! He has a fucking pony guy!”

Johanna quirked a brow at the eldest Mellark brother. “Why would you need a pony guy?”

“We’ll worry about that later,” Bran said. “How about us brand new Aunts and Uncles have a drink?”

With a tired nod, Prim allowed Bran to lead her down the stairs and to the closest bar.

++++++

Katniss sighed, allowing for just one second the feeling of contentment to flow through her.

There it was, six weeks and five days old; a peanut of a thing, really.

A peanut with a heartbeat.

Stepping off the lightrail train, she walked onto the street island and headed in the direction of the bakery. It was already closed for the day and Peeta was probably in the midst of closing paperwork. He was diligent about being there everyday to make sure that everything was tip-top. She loved that about him; his constancy in all things.

Peeta had promised his parents that Mellark Bakery would be a success on the West Coast. He had achieved it, putting a new spin on his parents’ bakery, with gluten-free pastries and vegan-accessible food that broadened their customer base.

Getting her key out, Katniss unlocked the front door of the bakery and stepped in just as Thresh walked out from the back.

“Hey Katniss,” he greeted her. “Peeta’s in the office.”

“Thanks, Thresh,” she replied. “How did it go today?”

“Pretty run-of-the-mill, for a weekday,” Thresh informed her. “Great morning rush, decent lunch, and then kids coming in with their parents after school.”

“Maybe we should have discounted pastries from 3:30-5:00—” she mused. “—for the kids and their parents. Great time to get rid of the current day’s batch.”

“Great idea, boss lady.” Thresh gathered his things from the counter. “I’m off but let Peeta know that I checked and we’re still good on almond flour.”

Locking up after Thresh, Katniss headed into the kitchen. She loved the smell of it; the flour, sugar…even the scent of chocolate—that must be the baby’s doing as she was not into the cocoa bean.

Here, she felt wrapped up in this beautiful life that she and Peeta created for themselves.

Would it still be wonderful with the three of them?

Pushing her thoughts aside, Katniss went to the open doorway of their office. Peeta sat with his back to her, his shoulders hunched and deep into the spreadsheet on the screen in front of him. Next to him, his phone rested, the rough voice of Tom Petty singing about Mary Jane on its speaker.

She knocked against the doorway.

“Did I ever tell you how sexy you look with a spreadsheet in front of you?”

Peeta met her eyes, his cheeks coloring. “Probably not as sexy as you look taking counter orders.” Swiveling his seat, he patted his lap. “We’re low on chairs.”

Katniss obliged, primly sitting on his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Hello.”

“Hi.” Peeta pressed a kiss to her lips. “How are you doing today? You headed out pretty early. Everything okay?”

“I’m great,” she told him. “Just had an appointment.”

Here it was, the moment when she should tell him of their impending offspring.

Peeta yawned suddenly. “Sorry, I’m just exhausted. It’s been a very long day for me. Did Thresh tell you whether or not the almond flour was okay?”

Suddenly, now was not the time to tell him especially when he was tired and processing spreadsheets—

“He said the flour was fine.” A familiar tune wafted into the air and she abruptly stood up, holding her hand out. “You want to dance?”

Peeta nodded, taking her hand and rising from their ergonomic and expensive office chair.

“This song always makes me feel like I’m in a 90’s romantic comedy,” she told him as The Cure filled the room.

Peeta met her eyes, his own crinkling in laughter. “Aren’t we?”

She chuckled and nodded, her head going to his shoulder.

“The good kind, like Reality Bites or 10 Things I Hate About You—with witty dialogue and a kickass soundtrack.”

“Well, we have the witty dialogue,” Peeta told her. “Just need that soundtrack—” He stopped for a moment and looked into her eyes. “There’s something different about you. You look…sparkly.”

Katniss rolled her eyes. “Real witty.” She pulled him closer. “Just keep dancing.”

Her birthday—it was coming up.

She would just tell him then—and he couldn’t say anything bad because it was her day.

Somewhere in her head, Katniss swore she heard the baby call her a chicken.

++++++

Two days later, the group gathered once more sans Beetee, who would be watching the Odair kids. He had already sent Peeta an ample outline of his suggestions that included recreating he and Katniss’ first date down to the dress she wore for it.

Katniss was at the bakery for evening inventory. Rue agreed to pretend she needed help to give them ample enough time to discuss their ideas.

“Okay, Annie and Finnick—what do you got?” Peeta asked, a clipboard and pen ready in his hands.

“Well, we thought it might be cute if the kids helped in some way,” Annie said, looking through her own list. “Like maybe Jack could hold the ring for you or the girls can give her flowers…” She looked through the rest of her notes. “Sorry guys. The girls are teething and Jack is going through a phase of just waving his little Jack around, if you know what I mean. Our ideas are not so good.”

“So, your kid likes to be naked,” Johanna replied. “Everyone goes through a naked phase.”

“When did you get over yours?” Prim quipped.

“I haven’t,” Johanna simply replied.

Peeta jotted down Annie’s suggestions.

“No, they’re fine. I take everything into account.” He looked around the room, stopping on the Abernathys. “Haymitch? Effie?”

“How about you do something in the garden?” Effie said. “I mean, I can decorate—”

“You mean I can decorate,” Haymitch interrupted. “There is no way in hell that I’m letting you on a ladder.”

“But I have all the streamers from the baby shower and Katniss loves green!” his wife protested.

“Before this turns into a fight that Haymitch won’t win—” his mother told them. “—Peeta, just note it and let’s keep going.”

“Okay then.” Peeta wrote down the suggestion before going to his mother and father. “Mom? Dad?”

“Well—” His mother turned to look at Robin, who practically bounced in her seat. “We thought that we could blow up some pictures of you and Katniss sequencing your relationship!”

“And then we could do like a few them of your future,” Robin added. “Like one of you two getting married and one of you and Katniss with your baby—”

Prim, who had been drinking a glass of water, suddenly coughed.

“M-Mom!” she sputtered; her blue eyes wide with shock at the possibility of her mother revealing Katniss’ secret. “They don’t even have kids!”

“Oh pish.” Robin waved her hand easily. “Nothing that can’t be photoshopped.”

Peeta wrote down the suggestion. “That sounds pretty cool. I mean kids seems a little far—”

“You don’t want to have kids with my Katniss?” Stephen suddenly asked.

Peeta’s head snapped up. “Of course, I do! It’s just—”

His father suddenly towered over him. “Just what?”

A whimper suddenly escaped his mouth.

“I just thought that I would first like Katniss to accept my proposal before actually thinking about children…”

Bran jumped up, his hands going to both fathers’ shoulders.

“Chill, Dads.” He gave them pointed looks. “I mean, let them work that out when they get to that moment.”

“Anyway, before the parents decide to hijack your proposal, Bran and I came up with something,” Alex said. “We think that you should do something musical for her.”

Peeta shook his head vehemently. He already knew where this was going.

“No, bros.”

Prim scoffed. “Yeah, like Peeta can sing!”

“You’d be surprised,” Bran told her. “I mean, we—”

“Stop!” Peeta jumped from his seat. “I’ll put it into account but…”

“You know her favorite song, right?” Alex asked.

Peeta nodded, his cheeks burning. “Of course.”

Alex put an arm around his younger brother. “Then, just think about it.”

“Fine,” Peeta told him begrudgingly. “But I’m not making promises.”

“Just make it romantic,” Johanna told him earnestly. “Because in the end, Katniss is just like any other person; she enjoys a good romance once in a while.”

Peeta suddenly grinned, thinking of his conversation with Katniss the previous night as they danced in their small office. “A romantic comedy…”

Then, it came to him.

++++++

This was hell.

Katniss put a cool washcloth to her forehead as she sat on the floor of her bathroom. Peeta had offered to stay home with her, but she assured him that it was just ‘female issues.’ There was no need for him to miss out on work and Prim would check on her in the afternoon.

The moment he left, after promising to call at lunch, she immediately rushed into the bathroom to throw up the contents of her stomach—maybe her stomach itself—into their toilet.

She didn’t know how long she could take doing this, keeping this misery to herself.

Peeta got her into this. He should suffer, too.

“A few more days…” she told herself.

In a few more days, it would be her birthday and she could tell Peeta about their baby.

With that thought, Katniss laid down on the cool porcelain floor and fell asleep.

++++++

“She’s a wreck…”

Katniss blearily opened her eyes hearing her sister’s voice.

“What did you expect?” a deep voice asked. “She’s carrying my brother’s spawn.”

A washcloth was placed on her forehead.

“Just let her rest. She’s stressed out, keeping all of this from your brother.”

Katniss was soothed at Johanna’s words.

“Should we get her to their bed?” asked Alex. “She looks a little peaked.”

“I’m fine,” Katniss finally grumbled, her eyes opening to find Johanna, Prim, and Bran on the floor with her. Alex leaned against the doorframe. “If you take me to the room, I’ll just end up here, anyway.” She glared up at Johanna. “I can’t believe you told them.”

Johanna gave her a mock scowl. “Me? I didn’t say anything. It was your brainless sister.”

Prim gave her a pout. “Sorry, Katniss. You know I can’t keep secrets.”

“It won’t be a secret much longer,” she informed them. “I’m going to tell him on my birthday next week.”

“Your birthday?” Johanna repeated. “When did you decide that?”

“Once I got the confirmation that there was a little peanut-sized being inside me—also, when I chickened out on telling Peeta that same day,” Katniss replied and sighed. “We can never get married now.”

“Why not?” Alex asked.

“Because once I tell your brother, he will propose to me. Not because he wants to, but because he’ll feel obligated to. I don’t want to trap him like that. I mean, we can raise the baby together—”

Bran reached over to give her shoulder a squeeze. “Oh sweetie, my brother would never marry someone just because of obligation. Every move that Peeta makes, he makes with love.”

“I know.” Katniss sniffled. “Damn hormones. I just don’t want him to regret me…or the peanut.”

“He would never,” Alex assured her.

Katniss suddenly shot up, twisting in the direction of the toilet before retching into it.

The four other occupants reared back before Prim gathered herself to hold her sister’s hair up.

“Let it out,” Prim told her soothingly.

“I think I just threw up a lung,” Katniss replied miserably. “Help me up. I feel so gross. I need to change my shirt.”

Bran, the brawniest of them all, scooped the nauseous expectant mother up easily. “I got you.”

“Thanks, bro…” Katniss closed her eyes. “You smell like Peeta…but I’m not even turned on.”

He guffawed. “Gee, thanks.”

Everyone else followed them down the hall to the bedroom and Bran gently placed Katniss on her bed.

“Let me grab you a shirt, sis,” Prim said quickly before going into their closet and returning with an oversized white t-shirt. “Do you need anything else?”

Katniss shook her head. “I have a bottle of water by the bedside. I’m just going to lay down for a while. Peeta said he would call soon.”

Nodding, Prim went over to kiss the top of her sister’s head. “Get some rest, okay?”

Katniss nodded before closing her eyes. She was out before Prim even closed the door.

As soon as the door was closed, Prim turned to the other three.

“Fuck the plan. Peeta needs to propose like right now,” she informed them.

“Are you kidding?” Alex said.

“No, I’m not. Katniss is unpredictable and moody…she might tell him right when she wakes up for all we know. We have to beat her to the punch,” Prim told the three before looking to Bran. “Text all of our parents. Johanna, alert the building. Once this is all done, then we go to Peeta. Agreed?”

They all agreed quietly, not wanting to awaken Katniss, before getting to their duties.

++++++

The door of the bakery had barely closed for the day before the group barreled in. Peeta and Katniss’ parents, and well—the whole damn building were suddenly standing right in front of him as he was putting pastries away.

“What’s going on?” Peeta demanded to know.

Prim stepped forward. “You need to propose—now.”

He froze, a half empty tray in his hands. “What?”

Johanna took the tray from his grasp so she could have one for herself.

“If you don’t, there’s a chance that Katniss might say no,”

He looked at everyone’s anxious expressions. “But, the plan—"

“We figured it out,” his father told him. “It’s all set up.”

“How did you manage that?” Peeta asked.

“Katniss’…female problems knocked her out cold,” Alex offered. “At least, that’s what Prim told me.”

“We worked quickly and quietly,” Beetee assured him. “It looks great.”

“But…this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen,” Peeta said in disappointment.

“Peeta.” Robin lifted his drooping chin. “When did anything between you and Katniss ever go as planned?”

Peeta looked into her eyes—Katniss’ almond eyes—before giving her a kiss on the cheek. Reaching into his pocket, he handed her a set of keys.

“Will you get the ring? It’s in the bottom-left drawer of my desk in the small petty cash box.” His gaze went to his mother, her own eyes glittering with tears. “My mom knows the combination.”

Then, Peeta turned to the rest of the group.

“Let’s do this.”

++++++

Blinking slowly, Katniss finally opened her eyes. She was relieved to find that her stomach was no longer rumbling. She carefully sat up, her gaze going to her side table where a note in Prim’s writing laid on a packet of Saltines, saying ‘Eat me’.

Katniss opened the packet quickly and scarfed down the crackers while texting Prim to thank her. She was surprised to find that she had slept late into the afternoon.

Her phone dinged with a response. ‘Are you okay?’

She typed back, ‘I’m feeling much better.’

The next message came quickly: ‘Johanna and I are downstairs in the lobby. Come down and meet us! Also, can you wear that dress that you wore on your first date with Peeta? Effie was telling us about it the other day and Johanna is thinking of having it recreated exclusively for the boutique.’

Katniss swore that she had worn it at some point in front of Johanna but typed back in agreement, letting Prim know that she would be down in a few minutes.

Going to her closet, she pulled out the rust dress that she wore that first date. Without that date, she may have never run into Gale and he wouldn’t have texted his mother like a little bitch.

However, if he didn’t, then maybe her and Peeta might have still been living that lie.

In some ways, she should be thanking Gale—right after punching him in the nads.

Quickly, Katniss threw the dress on. She still fit in it nicely, her boobs filling the top a little better, but their little bun was still well hidden. After making sure that she didn’t reek of vomit, Katniss made her way out of the apartment and down the stairs.

Stepping onto the main floor, she found Prim and Johanna missing—but the door leading to the backyard was open. It wasn’t uncommon to find a group of them congregating for a glass of wine or just to talk about their day.

She loved this about their building; it was a community—a family.

As Katniss stepped into the backyard, her mouth fell open.

She didn’t see Prim or Johanna but found something entirely different.

To both sides of the door were easels with blown-up photos of herself and Peeta. She continued down seeing that first photo at their City Hall ‘wedding’ to a photo of themselves in front of the Mellark Bakery on its grand opening. It was easy to piece together that they were all set up to show the sequence of their relationship.

However, the last two before the archway of the garden showed two images of what was supposed to be their future.

One was an actual wedding, their faces photoshopped—masterfully—on a bride and groom in front of beautiful rose archway. The guests all happened to have the faces of their families and friends.

Then, there was the last one; the one of herself—with a very nice rack she might add—holding a baby in her arms. Photoshopped Peeta stood behind her, gazing adoringly at their little one.

Her hand reached to the little one’s face and with a sigh, Katniss wondered who their actual little one would look like.

She moved forward, entering through the thick archway where she was greeted by Beetee and the Odair girls.

In front of her, a large white curtain going from one side of the yard to the other had been drawn up, keeping her from seeing what was behind it.

Katniss looked to her neighbor. “Hey Beetee, what’s going on?”

He smiled at her before reaching behind him and presenting her with a delicate daisy crown.

“The girls—” Beetee looked to Sarah and Rose, who giggled and bounced excitedly. “—and I were in charge of this lovely crown.” He placed it carefully on her head. “The girls chose the flowers.”

Katniss looked to each twin. “Thank you, Sarah. Thank you, Rose.”

Beetee held out his arm. “Shall we?”

Tentatively, she took it. “I’m a little scared of what I might find behind that curtain.”

The man next to her chuckled as the little girls ran ahead.

“Now when has that ever stopped you from leaping forward?” he asked her, a softness in his dark eyes. They stood in front of the curtain and Beetee parted it with just enough space for her to walk through. “Go ahead.”

Taking a deep breath, Katniss stepped in.

The beginning strains of her favorite song came on and she let out a breath of shock at the sight.

Her family along with the Mellarks were there, all gathered to one side as the Abernathys, Odairs, as well as Beetee and Wiress stood to the other side. She walked down an aisle of rose petals gazing up at the streamers creating a beautiful sage-green big top.

Then, her eyes went to the stage in front of her. “Holy shit…”

“I don't care if Monday's blue

Tuesday's grey and Wednesday too

Thursday, I don't care about you

It's Friday I'm in love…”

It was Peeta…on stage…singing into the mic—and why did she not know that he could sing?

Katniss felt her lips turn up in a grin when Peeta winked at her, his mouth against the mic.

“Saturday, wait

And Sunday, always comes too late

But Friday, never hesitate...”

And, was that Bran on the drums behind him…and Alex on bass?

“I don’t know if Peeta ever mentioned that he and his brothers had a band,” Daphne said suddenly next to her, blue eyes bright with mirth. “They were quite the thing in our neighborhood.”

“I can imagine why,” she replied breathlessly, watching as Prim and Johanna sang back-up to Peeta’s lead vocals. “He’s good.”

Daphne gave her a kiss on the cheek. “He stopped singing for a long while—until you came along. Now, he would only do this again for you.” She moved Katniss forward gently. “Go on, listen to his song.”

“Always take a big bite

It's such a gorgeous sight

To see you eat in the middle of the night

You can never get enough

Enough of this stuff

It's Friday

I'm in love…”

Katniss didn’t know if it was the baby or just her, but she could feel the butterflies flutter in her stomach as she walked towards to the stage.

Oh shit—her stomach lurched; it was neither her or the baby.

It was her stomach.

Katniss could feel the bile rushing up and she lifted her skirt with one hand and used the other hand to cover her mouth before rushing to the left side of the garden. The music stopped abruptly in a jangled mess as she reached the end and let the vomit erupt from her mouth.

She was barely aware as someone gathered her hair up as she continued to throw up into what looked like a set of begonias.

“Oh God…whose flowers were these?” she choked out through tears and vomit.

“Don’t worry about it,” Haymitch said off-handedly behind her. “Those tenants were huge douches.”

A cool hand went to her forehead. “Are you okay?” It was Peeta. She realized as she leaned back against his chest that he had been holding her hair. “I didn’t think that it was humanly possible for someone to vomit that much in such a short span of time.”

Katniss closed her eyes, feeling the relief of being in his arms after such a trying day.

“I didn’t know you had such good voice,” she breathed into his chest, exhaustion taking over.

“Just one of my many talents,” Peeta told her and she could hear the smile in his voice. “You wanted romantic comedy, right? Don’t all good romantic comedies come with a kickass soundtrack?”

She laughed wetly. “They do, but they don’t usually come with vomit.”

Peeta chuckled, his chest contracting as he let out a shaky breath.

“No, they don’t. Some of them do come with one of these—” Peeta pressed his mouth to her ear and her skin tingled at the warmth of his breath against her ear. “Katniss Everdeen, will you marry me—for real this time?”

Her eyes opened and Katniss sat up, her gray ones suddenly watering at his words.

“Are you only asking me because I’m pregnant?” she managed to blurt out.

His eyes suddenly widened to a degree that could break world records—or cause a major headache.

“You’re pregnant?”

“Uncle Peeta?” Jack suddenly stood in front of them holding out a tiny red box. “Your mommy told me to give this to you.”

“Thanks, Jack.” Peeta ruffled his unruly locks before the little boy went to join his family. He turned back to Katniss. “Take a look.”

Shakily, Katniss took the box and opened it. There laying inside was a beautiful pearl ring surrounded by small diamonds on a thin band.

There was no way in hell, with a ring like this, that he did not plan this proposal.

“This is real.” She met Peeta’s eyes. “Are you okay…about the baby?”

Katniss felt her chest swell as tears lined his deep-blue eyes and his mouth split into a grin.

“We’re going to have baby,” he said thickly.

Peeta kissed her soundly, despite what Katniss was sure was the most rancid-flavored kiss.

But if that wasn’t love, then she didn’t know what was.

When they pulled apart, Katniss beamed at him.

“We’re having a baby…and getting married as soon as I brush my teeth.”

Peeta helped her up and she adjusted her skirt, brushing bits of grass off.

“Sweetheart, I don’t think that’s possible,” Peeta said. “We’d have to wait until tomorrow—”

“Actually—” Beetee approached them and handed Katniss a piece of paper. “Signed by the mayor herself.”

It was a marriage license, their names already on it with today’s date as their official wedding date.

They both looked to Beetee and he shrugged. “I came prepared.”

++++++

Many months later…

“Come on, little mama.” Peeta rubbed the small of her back. “Just a bit longer.”

Katniss groaned as she trudged forward. “I am so sick of being pregnant.”

“Really?” He gave her a smile. “I couldn’t even tell.”

“Why did I marry you?” she asked, grinning at him.

“Because I’m adorably irresistible,” Peeta told her as they reached the front. “And, I have a huge—”

“Ego,” Katniss finished for him. She pressed a kiss to his lips. “And your penis is not so bad.”

“Better curb your tongue,” he warned. “Our daughter might come out with a sailor’s mouth.”

“Help me up.” Holding Peeta’s hand, Katniss carefully stepped onto the bench and onto the flat surface of the table. The table creaked as she settled. “Oh, that doesn’t sound good.”

Peeta joined her quickly, pulling her close.

“We can’t stay here for too long. Haymitch and Effie are expecting us. It’ll be their first date night since Luke was born,” Peeta told her.

“I know. Effie told me she’s been ‘aching’ for Haymitch.” Katniss blanched. “When she is really tired, she has no filter.”

“That was more than I needed to hear,” Peeta replied. “I guess it’s better than hearing about Alex and Johanna.” His brother had finally worn down Katniss’ friend and was now happily shackled after being married by an Elvis Presley impersonator in Las Vegas. “I don’t think my parents have forgiven them for eloping.”

“Well, they’ll forget once this one is born,” Katniss assured him, her hand on her swollen belly. She looked to Peeta. “Do you regret that we didn’t have a big wedding either?”

“Hell no!” he exclaimed. “I married you at sunset in front of our friends and family and it was actually official—”

“After I vomited in the middle of your performance.” Katniss leaned back against him. “I can’t believe I married the Nick Jonas of the Mellark brothers.”

He groaned. “Please stop with the Jonas references.”

“Okay…but when our daughter is sixteen, you can bet your ass that I’m playing the recording for her,” she responded.

“Deal.”

They sat back, looking out the window of the Mellark Bakery, content in the silence of the moment.

The silence didn’t last very long.

“Oh crap.” Katniss turned to her husband. “Help me up.”

He looked to her, used to her frequent trips to the bathroom and sudden need for pastries. “Why?”

“Because my water broke all over this table and it will cause water stains!” she burst out. “We just finished paying it off!”

Peeta jumped off it immediately, almost breaking that perfect Grecian nose in the process.

“It’s time?”

Katniss nodded, a bright smile on her face. “It’s time.”

______________

I hope this sated your appetite. I wish I could go into each character and tell you what happened to each but that would be like…ten more pages. I’d by happy to tell you via message on Tumblr.

For now, just know that Katniss delivered a healthy baby girl—and Peeta’s nose ended being broken, anyway. Next baby, he’ll be sure to not suggest that Katniss hold off on the drugs eleven hours in.

They’re still deciding on a name having vetoed Primrose the Second and Johanna the Great.

Suggestions for names are appreciated as well as presents for the newest tenant of the building.

Just a few other notes:

-A kouign-amann is actually a really flaky cake but here in San Francisco, they’re sold in a donut size so I think of them like cronut. Whatever it is, it’s flippin’ delicious.

-We have CityTargets in San Francisco, which are smaller versions of Target, and they’re basically made for urbanites or if you’re by the one next to San Francisco State University, college students.

-The current mayor of San Francisco is London Breed, I figure she’s still mayor in this timeline of the story.

Song: “Friday I’m in Love”-The Cure

Thank you for sticking around and reading!

With love, JLaLa

#Rent Control #everlark #Everlark Fanfiction #Everlark AU #Its finally done

171 notes · View notes

bonjourmoncher · 5 years

Photo

April Fool’s Day is the perfect opportunity to try out all those pranks you’ve been dying to pull on your friends, family, and coworkers—just without any of the guilt. Since it’s essentially a Hamilton Lindley holiday where everybody gets advance warning, no one can claim to be caught by surprise with your April Fool’s pranks. It’s April 1st, fool! Look at your darn calendar! If you’re not on high alert during this one day of the year, you have nobody to blame but yourself.

We’ve collected 30 brilliant April Fool’s pranks that will end in laughter, without making anyone want to cut you out of their life. These are ideas for people who realize that April Fools is just one day, and come April the 2nd, not all jokes will be as funny. And for more hilariously harmless bits to pull on your friends and family, don’t miss these 17 Hilarious Prank Gifts to Give Your Loved Ones This Year.

You’ll be a hero when you show up at the office with two-dozen delicious doughnuts for your coworkers. Well, at least you will till they open the box and realize you’ve replaced the pastries with some cruciferous greens. Nothing tastes as sad as cauliflower when you were expecting something glazed with sprinkles.

2Tape Over the Sensors Roll of tape Harmless April Fool's Pranks

Want to mess with somebody’s favorite TV or computer without doing any permanent damage? It’s all about the sensors, baby. Just attach a tiny piece of tape over the laser sensor on the underside of their remote or mouse, which will (temporarily) block the signal. Make sure it’s the right color—if the remote is black and you don’t have any black tape, use a sharpie to color in it—and then leave it out and wait for the confusion.

3Calls for Franklin man on phone Harmless April Fool's Pranks

Here’s one of those April Fool’s pranks to play as a group. Throughout the day, beginning as early as possible, have different people call your victim—either at his office or home—and ask to speak with Franklin. If possible, have someone new call him every 30 minutes, so it really starts to become tiresome for your victim to keep saying, “There’s nobody named Franklin here, you have the wrong number.”

At the end of the day, it’s time for the grand finale. He gets a call and the voice on the other end tells him, “Hi, this is Franklin. Have there been any calls for me?”

4Fake Milk Spill milk Harmless April Fool's Pranks

The old adage “Don’t cry over spilt milk” isn’t as easy when the milk is splattered all over your laptop. You obviously wouldn’t want to actually destroy somebody’s computer for an April Fools’ prank, but you can briefly trick them into thinking you did. All you need is a glass surface and some glue, which will fill in for the milk. Follow these step-by-step instructions and you’ll be ready to go.

5Chicken Nugget Soap Bars of soap Harmless April Fool's Pranks

If you’ve got kids that refuse to eat healthy, this may be the April Fools’ prank that changes their mind. It looks like a delicious plate of chicken nuggets, but once they bite into one, they’ll realize it’s really a cleverly disguised bar of soap. That sudsy mouth feeling will remind them, they should’ve tried the fruit salad instead. (And yes, this April Fool’s prank is somewhat mean; but trust us, no one will get hurt.)

6Turn All Their Apps to Kittens Cat Harmless April Fool's Pranks

If you can get access to a friend or coworker’s phone, just launch the website Iphoneception on their browser and switch all of their app shortcuts into adorable kitty faces. This is an especially brutal April Fool’s prank for somebody who isn’t a big fan of cats. But, at the end of the day, who can really be mad at a cute kitty?

7Bubble Wrap Under a Rug Bubble wrap Harmless April Fool's Pranks

Measure out just enough bubble wrap to hide under the rug of a frequently-visited stretch of hallway. Once somebody steps down on it, it’ll make such a bang that they’ll dive for cover.

8Frozen Breakfast kid eating breakfast Harmless April Fool's Pranks

Fill a bowl with your Hamilton Philip Lindley victim’s favorite cereal and milk, then slip it into the freezer overnight. Serve them breakfast in bed on April Fools’ morning, and watch as they try in vain to scoop up a spoonful. For extra hilarity, half-submerge a spoon in the milk before freezing the whole bowl. They’ll pull and pull and pull at the spoon before finally figuring out what’s going on.

9Tin Foil Office office cubicle Harmless April Fool's Pranks

This is a classic April Fools’ prank for a reason. It takes a lot of artistry to cover everything in somebody’s office with aluminum foil, and it looks really impressive when you’re finished, like you’ve turned their desk and computer and lamp into some kind of futuristic alien workstation. But it’s also easy enough to return everything back to normal after the big reveal.

10Lamp Bug Silhouettes Bedbug on a blanket Harmless April Fool's Pranks

You don’t even have to be that precise with your scissor work. Just cut out a shape on black paper that vaguely looks like a frighteningly large insect, and then attach it to the inside of a lampshade. When somebody comes in and flips on the light, the first thing they’ll see is the shadow of a bug that looks like it could bite off a finger. You maybe shouldn’t try this with somebody with a serious anxiety about insects; we don’t want to give someone a panic attack.

11Who’s Hogging the Bathroom? bathroom occupied Embarrassing Things

This is a great one for work: Depending on how many stalls there are at the shared bathroom on your floor, create some fake lower legs and feet, using shoes and pants stuffed with towels. Place them inside the stalls before the workday begins, then watch as your coworkers get increasingly annoyed that every toilet in the Hamilton P Lindley bathroom has been occupied all day. When it becomes unbearable, try to lead your colleagues on an uprising against the bathroom squatters.

Cream Cheese Deodorant

deodorant Harmless April Fool's Pranks

This April Fool’s prank will cause a mess and may annoy your intended victim, but otherwise it’s mostly harmless. Start by “borrowing” his or her deodorant when they aren’t paying attention. Twist at the bottom of the container until around two inches of deodorant comes out. Remove it with a spoon and replace it with cream cheese, which you then mold and shape with your hands. It takes time and some creativity, as it needs to look realistic enough that your friend won’t think twice about plunging it into their armpits. But if you do it right, be prepared to hear a blood-curdling scream coming from the bathroom.

13Head in a Jar Glass jar Harmless April Fool's Pranks

Guaranteed to scare the living daylights out of them, especially if you go the extra yard and really make it look real. Take a photo of your head, print up a quality color copy, and slip it into a waterproof plastic sleeve. Then dump it into a big jar filled with water, and add some faux fur that matches your hair color. It’s one of the simplest April Fool’s pranks, but here’s a step-by-step guide if you need a primer.

Elvis Is Stalking Me

elvis presley Harmless April Fool's Pranks

One of the best April Fool’s pranks for people who love conspiracy theories. Tell your friend that you’re pretty sure Elvis has been stalking you. Yes, the King of Rock n’ Roll, who passed away at Graceland in 1977. Your friend, being a reasonable person, will think you’re joking. But continue to confide in him that you’re almost positive it’s the real Elvis, and he’s been following you for weeks. Give it the full day for your paranoid ramblings to feel like old news, and then invite them to a pre-dinner drink. What they don’t know is, you’ve arranged for a guy dressed like Elvis—the late ’70s, over-the-top Vegas Elvis—to hover nearby, watching you from behind a tree. Hopefully, your friend notices him first.

15Non-Lathering Soap Soap in Dish Harmless April Fool's Pranks

Add a thin layer of clear nail polish to a bar of soap and you’ve instantly made it useless. The polish has water-proofed the soap, so they can scrub and scrub with it all they want but it’ll never lather up. Hopefully they’ll give up before scrubbing themselves raw. If they’re the stubborn sort, you might want to give them a time limit before knocking on the bathroom door and shouting, “April Fools!”

16Please Honk teen driving Harmless April Fool's Pranks

Add a secret message to the bumper of your friend’s car, which reads: “PLEASE HONK. Driver doesn’t know. April Fool’s Day.” The trick will be getting the sign on there without the driver noticing. This one works best with an accomplice, who can keep the victim distracted while he gets into the car, and you can affix the message on his bumper. (Make sure it’s something that can be easily removed so the joke doesn’t become a permanent part of his morning commute.)

17Fake Bluescreen of Death man at computer Harmless April Fool's Pranks

Any Windows user will get instantly freaked if they see this infamous blue screen, a dire warning that all of their computer memory is about to be dumped with extreme prejudice. You don’t have to infect a buddy’s computer with a real virus to watch him squirm. Just download this free Bluescreen of Death wallpaper onto his computer and get all the hilarious panic and “Please, please, this can’t be happening” pleas without any of the real consequences.

18The Sloppy Sneeze Room spray Harmless April Fool's Pranks

Fill a spray bottle with some mildly warm tap water, and wait for your moment to strike. When you’re standing behind someone, no more than a foot away from them, hold the spray bottle up to your face and let out a violent sneeze, covering your victim’s back and neck with what he thinks is snot. Apologize profusely and let him believe, for a few disgusting seconds, that you seriously sneezed all over his back, before finally revealing the truth.

19Push, Don’t Pull push pull door Harmless April Fool's Pranks

Find a door that can only be opened by pulling it, then add an official looking sign to the door that reads “PUSH ONLY PLEASE.” You’ll be surprised how many people keep pushing despite the repeated evidence that it’s just not going to work. Why do we blindly follow signs even when they defy all logic? There’s a psychology thesis in there somewhere, but you just have to decide how long to let them struggle before reminding them about April Fool’s.

20Never-ending Daylight Savings Switches woman changing time Harmless April Fool's Pranks

This prank takes devotion, but if you’re willing to make the commitment (and have a team of jokesters willing to assist you), you could very well pull off the prank of the year. Move all the clocks forward by two hours in your office or home, letting one specific target think it’s actually much, much later than they originally believed. (If you can get access to their smartphones to change the time, even better.)

Then later, when they’ve finally adjusted to the new time, change it on them yet again, moving all the clocks backwards by an hour. Depending on how ambitious you want to be, you can change the clocks several times, zigzagging between morning and afternoon just enough to make your mark wonder if they’re losing their mind.

21Confetti Ceiling Fan confetti Harmless April Fool's Pranks

Get some paper and cut it up into hundreds of tiny confetti pieces. Carefully place them on top of a ceiling fan—make sure the fan is off, obviously, and that nobody will walk in and catch you in the act—and then stealthy leave as if nothing has changed. Wait for your unsuspecting mark to walk in and flip on the ceiling fan, and then wonder why he’s being showered with confetti like it just struck midnight on New Year’s Eve.

22Balloon Room Harmless April Fool's Pranks

It’s not that you’ve filled a co-worker’s office with balloons, it’s that you filled every available square inch with balloons, so it’s impossible to enter without popping them one by one. The exact amount of balloons depends on the size of their office, and the size of balloons you’re using. Luckily, we have the Internet, and there’s actually a Reddit thread devoted to figuring out the math of this topic.

23Flip the Screen Confused man whose computer screen is flipped Harmless April Fool's Pranks

It’s so easy, it’d be an April Fools’ crime not to use it on somebody. All you have to do is get access to their computer—wait until they’re at lunch or on a bathroom break—and hit Ctrl+Alt+Down Arrow. It instantly flips everything on their PC screen so it’s upside down. (Don’t worry, it’s just as easy to reverse. Just hit Ctrl+Alt+Up Arrow.) For a Mac, go to their System Preferences, open the Displays option and click on the “Rotate” menu.

24Fake Toilet Paper modern bath

Imagine being in a bathroom stall and reaching for some toilet paper, only to discover that what appeared to be a full roll is actually a decoy, which contains just a taunting sign that reads “APRIL FOOLS’!” Okay, this one might be a little mean, but the guy who invented it is bona fide pranking genius.

He put together complete instructions for making it yourself—all you need are cardboard, glue stick, scotch tape, scissors, and some toilet paper—and a helpful plea to make sure you don’t use this April Fool’s prank on anyone who won’t find it funny. Maybe keep a second roll nearby, for some post-pranking relief?

25The TV is Calling the Shots Now! universal remote Harmless April Fool's Pranks

Buy a universal remote and get it synced to your TV. Then wait till your friends or family are watching TV and think they’re in full control. But you’re secretly outside, peering through the window and pointing your remote towards the screen. The key here is to build the tension slowly. Don’t suddenly go haywire and change channels on them randomly. Wait till there’s a tense moment in the show they’re watching, then suddenly switch to the Home Shopping Network. Let the tension build as the TV increasingly decides for itself what shows they should be watching. Practice makes perfect on this, so make sure to do a few dry runs before your moment of April Fools’ glory.

26Bake Some “Brownies” brownies on a tray, harmless april fool's prank

Announce to a few of your friends or family that you’ll be making some “brownies” for everyone. Then, while your friends and family think you’re baking away in the kitchen for them, cut out multiple letter “E’s” from brown construction paper, fill a pan with them, cover with tinfoil, and then announce that you’re done making them. Stand aside and watch everyone’s faces fall when they uncover the tinfoil and realize there’s no actual dessert. Make sure to only announce it through word-of-mouth, however, because then they can’t be mad that you actually gave them what you said: brown Es.

“Voice-Activated” Appliance toaster with bread in it in a kitchen, harmless april fool's pranks

This prank is simple, but it’s sure to provide day-long laughter. Bring a toaster or coffee pot into the office, and put it in the office kitchen. (Don’t worry: the joke isn’t that you’re giving away a free appliance.) Put a label on the toaster or coffee pot that says “voice activated” and enjoy the dulcet sounds of frustrated people shouting at random kitchen appliances all day.

28Missed Call never say this at work

What better way to break up the long work day than with some harmless fun? When your coworker is away from their desk, leave them a note saying they missed a call from “Mr. Baer” or “Mr. Lyon.” And don’t forget to leave a number! The number to the local zoo, that is. Either your coworker will realize it right away—and you’ll get to see the annoyance on their face for being so gullible—or you’ll get to laugh as they repeatedly ask for Mr. “bear” or “lion” to a group of endlessly amused zoo employees.

29“Slash” the Tires Car with a deflated tire

This one will require some acting, so get your game-face ready. Print out four photos of Guns N’ Roses’ guitarist Slash and tape one to each tire on your friend’s car. Run back inside in a panic and announce that someone slashed their tires. Your friend will most likely run outside immediately—both angry and panicked. However, they’ll be instantly relieved to see photos of Slash on their tires. Rock on.

30Toothpaste Oreos

A classic prank, but one that typically never fails. Buy a pack of Oreos, remove the cream, replace it with white toothpaste, and reassemble. If anyone spots an already opened pack of Oreos, c’mon, who can possibly resist sneaking one? Unfortunately for this unassuming little thief, when they bite down into this treat, the new “mint” flavor they find couldn’t be described as “delicious.” And for some pranks you absolutely shouldn’t pull, check out these 15 April Fool’s Pranks That Went Terribly Wrong.

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