#Hell's kitchen Chronicles

[abbeykitchenmouse]

Folk always ask me, Nutmeg, how do you maintain such a wonderful kitchen? It certainly doesn't hurt to have other abbey beasts to help, am I right?

And to that I say, no. You're wrong. There are no other abbey beasts helping me. They're all too busy chasing vermin and bandits around the wood for the wee little kitchen mouse! The only reason this kitchen stays functional is because I clean, and I sweep, and I scrub, and I terrorize. Then I'm ready to cook a delicious dinner, but wait, the kitchen is destroyed again before I can even start!

It's my own personal circle of hell. Someone get Dante down here to write about it! Who just put a dirty butter knife in this pot?! Aghhhhhhh!

[sailorsleepymoon]

I’m reading a book called The Black Witch and I’m 52% of the way in. And so far the story seems to be girl from backwater town in the middle of nowhere goes to diverse university and almost becomes a nazi but doesn’t and becomes leftist instead

Which. Yknow. Based lmao

[sebongica]

sebongica's reading recommendations 💌 (svt edition, pt 1 - hiphop unit)

this is PART ONE of my svt recommended fics. this post contains hiphop unit fics. you can access vocal unit's recos here and performance unit's recos here. don't forget to like and reblog the fics below to show some appreciation for the writers <3

💋 - smut ☁️ - fluff 🧃 - angst 🎧 - absolute fav

crossing boundaries - wonusite 💋☁️

bouquets for a friend (from a friend) - thepixelelf ☁️

gryffindor captain - http-mianhae ☁️🧃 (part of the amortentia series)

very nice - venerex ☁️

hello tutorial - 97-liners ☁️🧃🎧

livestream - pileofwords ☁️

what besties do - wonusite 💋

neighborly (ft. mingyu) - ncteez 💋🎧

what a bore (ft. chan) - hwanghyunjinenthusiast 💋

cupid - yoongiseesawmp3 💋☁️

caught with your pants down (ft. chan) - bitchlessdino 💋

good boys (ft. hoshi, dokyeom, chan) - beahae 💋🎧

fuck. marry, kill (ft. hoshi, chan) - bitchlessdino 💋

fuck, marry, kill: with the experienced (ft. wonwoo, mingyu) - bitchlessdino 💋

underlying pretense - lovelyhan (part 1 of the game over series) 💋🎧

catnaps - wheeboo ☁️

homie train (ft. hoshi, woozi) - bitchlessdino 💋☁️

meant to be yours - cheolhub 💋🧃

the peephole - rubyreduji 💋

homewrecked - ncteez 💋🧃

meet cute of the century - lovelyhan ☁️🧃💋

needy - cheolhub 💋☁️

two is better than one (ft. mingyu) - beahae 💋

25¢ magic - thepixelelf ☁️

shiny star - wonwoonlight ☁️ (part of the shiny star series)

getting closer (ft. mingyu) - milfgyuu 💋

fuck, marry, kill: with the experienced (ft. seungcheol, mingyu) - bitchlessdino 💋

eggs, bacon, and sausage sandwich (ft. mingyu) - bitchlessdino 💋

strawberry taste - multi-kpop-fanfics 💋☁️ (part of the love me tender...or maybe not series)

between heaven + hell (ft. mingyu) - beahae 💋

andante, andante - sluttywonwoo 💋☁️🎧

you vs. the universe - cheolism ☁️

glitch (ft. mingyu) - gamerwoo 🧃💋🎧

sharing is caring but i don't care - gamerwoo ☁️🎧

favorite - wonusite 💋🎧

a break (ft. mingyu) - smileysuh 💋🧃☁️🎧

class project (ft. mingyu) - smileysuh 💋🎧

anteric (ft. mingyu) - smileysuh 💋☁️🎧

besties (ft. mingyu) - smileysuh 💋🧃☁️🎧

for worse or for better - sluttywoozi ☁️🧃

"there's a cat in my kitchen. i don't own a cat." - 97-liners ☁️🎧

the alpha's right hand - smileysuh 💋🎧

kim mingyu's unhelpful guide to losing your virginity - shuaflix 💋

birthday boy - odxrilove ☁️🎧

caught in the middle (ft. wonwoo) - lovelyhan (part 3 of the game over series) 💋☁️

with mingyu - wonlouvre ☁️🎧

first date - cheolhub 💋

just the tip? - cheolhub 💋

two is better than one (ft. wonwoo) - beahae 💋

sweet night - wooahaes 🧃

getting closer (ft. wonwoo) - milfgyuu 💋

my daisy - wonwoonlight ☁️

fuck, marry, kill: with the experienced (ft. seungcheol, wonwoo) - bitchlessdino 💋

eggs, bacon, and sausage sandwich (ft. wonwoo) - bitchlessdino 💋

between heaven + hell (ft. wonwoo) - beahae 💋

the only exception - wonusite ☁️💋

glitch (ft. wonwoo) - gamerwoo 🧃💋🎧

new rules - leejihoonownsmyheart ☁️🧃💋🎧

let me - sluttywoozi ☁️🎧

a break (ft. wonwoo) - smileysuh 💋🧃☁️🎧

class project (ft. wonwoo) - smileysuh 💋🎧

anteric (ft. wonwoo) - smileysuh 💋☁️🎧

besties (ft. wonwoo) - smileysuh 💋🧃☁️🎧

addicted - wonusite 💋🧃☁️🎧 (part 3 of the spoiled series)

it's all fun and games - dontflailmenow 💋

on love, friendship, and jane austen - suhnshinehaos ☁️🧃

vernon and chan's solution to love triangles (ft. chan) - bitchlessdino 💋 (part of the party chronicles series)

sure - beahae ☁️🧃

too close (i might just burn you whole) - sluttywonwoo 💋

you get me so high - cheolhub 💋

shiny star - wonwoonlight ☁️🎧 (part of the shiny star series)

risk it all - sluttywoozi 💋🎧

not a virgin - ncteez 💋☁️🎧

operation: hot girl summer - shuaflix 💋☁️

work husband - wondernus ☁️

[teaboot]

What are your favorite pieces of media?

hhhhng Uhhhh

growing up, probably The Pendragon Chronicles- from what I recall it's a series of books about a kid who has to correct cataclysmic events on a bunch of separate worlds caused by a being who intends to end life on all of them.

One world is Modern Earth, where he's the only one able to use the portal to travel to other worlds, one is 1920's Past Earth, one is Future Earth in a sort of cyberpunk setting, one is a desert planet in the midst of war, one is a jungle world in which the dominant species is a race of bipedal cats, one is a water world where all food is farmed on a series of island-sized boats.. and I think that's all of them, unless I'm forgetting?

And on each world there's one guardian, and they meet up and fight and shit, and they can't blow their cover on any world, and each world has a large, distinct world-ending event brewing- The water one may lose their source of food, for example, and in future-earth people are wasting away in a virtual reality game they become addicted to.

It's one of the rare long series of teen books that I feel had a pretty satisfying ending despite the huge buildup, and I'd really recommend it to anyone interested.

I also really like X-Men, and Trigun, and while I haven't seen the new Percy Jackson series it was UNCONTESTED my number one favourite- I still have it on my shelf, absolute A+.

Aaaaand.... I enjoy the Batman Fandom more than most of the comics themselves but I'm in there, too. Was a homestuck cosplayer back in the day, as well. Loved Gravity Falls, loved Steven Universe.

Six Underground ins my favourite "sick at home" comfort movie. Also the only two John Wick movies in existence, shame they never made more sequels. Lord of the Rings. The Princess Diaries. Stardust. Ella Enchanted.

Oh, and the Inkheart books were FABULOUS. Really, they read like nothing else, just such a fantastic and unique flavour in fantasy!

Uhhhhh. Hellboy, too. Hell's Paradise. Bleach. Darker Than Black I vaguely remember enjoying, but I have the DISTINCT MEMORY of despising season two, so fuck that shit, whatever it was.

And I remember... oh, maybe twelve years ago, now? Really liking the spy series Nikita, and the urban fantasy Lost Girl, though I don't think I finished either.

Oh, and Elementary is a must-watch!

Poirot, too, and Perry Mason, and Midsommer Murders.

Also Blown Away, glassmaking reality series, and Forged In Fire, a bladesmith reality series.

Kitchen Nightmares, Hotel Hell, Hell's Kitchen, all good.

Puppet History. Watcher. Game Changer.

And webcomics Dead End and Check Please.

................I may need to spend more time on this

[lcvehee]

lost and found # 04. 'chicken chronicles' (smau + written)

꩜ .ᐟ a/n: im back. after 84 years..... unfotunately i still have two exams next week (i hate that theyre so spaced out but it is what it is) BUT CHAT IM ALMOST FREE!! enjoy this update,, i'll probs update next week :)

after a long day of classes, y/n sighed in relief as she melted on the couch in her quaint living room, tv remote in hand. a soft vanilla scent envelopped the room as she sunk deeper into the cushions. she was about to turn the tv on when she heard the faint clinking of keys, rattling against the door, before seeing anton walking past the doorway.

she glanced at her roommate curiously, who was taking off his jacket, looking equally as tired as her. "you okay ton?"

he dismissed her question with a wave of his hand. "classes kicked my ass today," he muttered.

"come sit here, i'll look for a food place."

after years of knowing each other and deciding on the same college, rooming with anton was a no-brainer. y/n was used to his presence, and so was he. everything was easy between them; their personalities just matched. while giselle was y/n's polar opposite, anton was her other half. to aquaintances, their proximity and ease in each other's presence could be mistaken for something else, but those words were the farthest from the truth. nothing ever blossomed out of their friendship, strictly stayed platonic. 

anton plopped down on the couch, before turning to y/n. "so where are we gonna eat?"

"um... what are you craving right now?"

"something greasy... salty," anton whispered, laying motionless, staring at the ceiling. y/n ran her hand through his hair, earning a pleased hum from him.

"nothing in particular?" 

"you decide, i'm tired." 

"fine, i just know the one!" y/n stood up, invigorated again at the prospect food.

━˖°˖ ☆ ˖°˖ ━━━━━━━

sohee glanced at the clock, counting the remaining time of his shift. one hour left. he rolled his neck and sighed. working at a fried chicken place wasn't something he particularly enjoyed. "gotta get that money," he mused to himself.

working here wasn't actually bad, just mind numbingly boring; he didn't have to interact a lot with people due to the fact that people mostly got their food delivered. he liked the peace and quiet.

the door opened, making the chimes ring at the entrance.

it's probably geonhee, the other part-time worker, coming back from a delivery.

without even looking up, he uttered a curt greeting, making himself look busy with a random box of drinks.

"hi, we would like to order..?" a feminine voice asked, stopping him in his tracks.

that's a first. nobody ever comes here.

he put the box down, and sped walked to find the customers' table. he took out his notepad, readying himself.

"what would you li-" his eyes widened when he looked up from his notepad. 

"sohee?" y/n asked, just as shocked.

"y/n? didn't expect to see you." he toned down his expression as quickly as it came, a facade of ice taking over.

"...uh yeah, me neither."

sohee glanced at the male sitting in front of her, who was already staring at him. is that a glare? whatever. is that her brother? no, they look nothing alike. perhaps her boyfriend?

sohee found himself a tiny bit disappointed at this. wait, what the hell?

he cleared his throat. "so what do you wanna order?"

"we'll get a box of fried chicken, the cheesy one, and some fries too. oh! and another box of the cheese balls," she said, "we want the special dipping sauce as well."

"how about drinks?"

"do you guys have beer here?" y/n's friend said.

sohee nodded, jotting down their order.

"is that all?"

y/n hummed. "thanks."

"no problem, i'll be back shortly." sohee left them and made bee-line for the kitchen, avoiding any eye-contact.

"oh my god, is that him?" anton whispered when sohee was out of sight, eyes wide in shock.

y/n closed her eyes and frowned, nodding.

"he definitely hates you."

"wow, thanks for the reminder." she groaned, putting her head between her hands.

"hey!" anton laughed, "it's okay," he snickered. "he looked like he wanted to leave... just what did you do, y/n?"

she grimaced. "i don't know! i don't even remember what happened the night we went to the bar..." she clasped her mouth, not realizing that they could be heard from the kitchen.

not that sohee meant to, but when he heard anton's question, he couldn't stop himself from eavesdropping. he knew they were talking about him.

what did y/n do? a lot of things. things she doesn't remember. he does though. 

it's nothing to dwell about, definitely nothing...

sohee felt his cheeks redden and his stomach churn at the memories. he couldn't believe he didn't actually hate her, he's almost embarassed━still catching himself thinking of the witty remarks they echanged at the bar and her cute goofy grin, despite their initial meeting going the worst way possible. it's strange━having to act all cold and blunt towards her, having to act as if that night never happened.

maybe i should apologize, so we can at least be on amiable terms. we're gonna be study buddies until the end of this semester after all...

or maybe i should just focus on deep frying this chicken.

prev | next

© lcvehee | taglist is open: @secretiny @totheseok @renjuneoo @molensworld @wccycc @seunghancore @mystarsohee @llearlert @nujeskz

[sgiandubh]

Belfast: not your average working-class drama

So, yes: as promised, I watched Belfast last night, until the wee hours of the next morning. And I have to immediately add I do not feel the need for a re-watch. As usually, I shall not insist more than necessary on the storyline and focus instead on the raw impressions I am taking home with me.

It was a strange experience, given all the huffing and puffing and hype and backstage context, inevitably involving C. And I defy any OL fan to watch and process it otherwise: the circus was what it was, at its time, Vanity Fair major PR blunder included. Whether you are a hardcore Balfe Nation stan or a shipper, that bias is there, looming over your screen as you try and get into the magic of it. An ambitious and, at least for me, unfulfilled goal.

The storyline is personal, in a cinematic niche that screams for political statements, peppered with psychological heaviness and guerilla brutality. The Guardian's Peter Bradshaw spoke in his chronicle about an 'euphoric eulogy' (https://www.theguardian.com/film/2021/oct/12/belfast-review-kenneth-branagh-jamie-dornan-judi-dench), where the NYT's Jeannette Catsoulis saw ' grit and glamour stroll hand-in-hand' (https://www.nytimes.com/2021/11/11/movies/belfast-review.html), with a marked, delighted nod to C's performance as Ma. So yes, we inevitably deal with 'rose-tinted glasses' and 'softened edges', in this nostalgic, elegantly shot coming of age plot. The aesthetic is there, with a black& white sleek filming choice that makes everything so dense at times, you simply have to hit pause and let it sink in. It is, I suspect, Branagh's nod to Truffaut and his Antoine Doinel five movie cycle, starting with Les Quatre Cents Coups (The 400 Blows, but this is an inept translation of an idiom that means 'to break havoc'), another coming-of-age working class story set in Paris during the Fifties and also shot in black and white. A clever choice that allows the audience to focus on the dialogues, without any other distraction. And ultimately, a statement that also heavily drags you by your coat's button: "hey, there, I am an independent, intellectual movie featuring beautiful people amid hardship: wanna be friends?"

Being totally impervious to the Fifty Shades of Grey charm allowed me to focus on C's performance and I have to immediately say I found it elegant, clever and endearing. And also immediately add that I still have no clue about how the hell she managed to drag all her Claire Fraser mannerisms, all the way from Inverness to Belfast and 1743 to 1969 (another important year for OL, as we all know, and that coincidence made me grin). I loved (loved-loved-loved) the broken plates' scene, but in all fairness, was it that different from the moment she slaps Laoghaire in Castle Leoch's kitchen? But I truly resonated with the tiny moments when we see her really struggling to make sense out of the Inland Revenue string of letters and find a solution to a very clear family conundrum, with the result that we all know, I suppose, by now. So yes, Mrs. Balfe: portraying strong, honest, salt of the Earth women absolutely suits you and I'd love to see more of it in the future, if only perhaps with a different, more realistic angle.

So the real question I bet you're all waiting for me to answer is this: was it an Oscar-worthy performance? Sadly, my answer is no (no matter how deep I would like it to be otherwise - and I swear I did and I do). And it's #silly and very unfair to her, I know, since it has to deal, in my humble opinion with the script's own limitations and the complete failure to find a balance between the child's gaze and the mother's presence. As the script and storyline go, Belfast is Jude Hill's movie and it is to him I would have given the Oscar. Not Judi Dench, whom I love dearly and whose voice is the most beautiful, rich, intelligent movie voice ever to have graced this Earth. She didn't need just another trinket of Hollywood affection for what is a correct, but over all forgettable performance, unlike Ciaran Hinds'. Who was simply extraordinary and that's all I can say: I am in love, and when I fall in love, I shut up - not babble on blogs.

Would I recommend it? I don't know. I mean, it's Branagh, and to be honest, I don't hold the man in great esteem. I think his reputation as the neo-Laurence Olivier is way OTT and I am also deeply amused by his pretense to be an intellectual luminary among the glitterati, when he obviously is not. But, as always, this is just me and my very clear-cut opinions. You don't have to follow them or even believe me and as always, it's just better to go see for yourself. With this caveat: don't expect too much out of it and you should probably be fine and satisfied.

I sure was very pleased to watch this nugget, my favorite scene in all the movie, to be honest. It's got perfect sarcasm and all the poetry one can find looking at Cartier-Bresson's delicate photographs of schoolchildren waiting for the lesson to end and life to truly start anew:

[cyb3rscoups]

Baby daddy Chronicles (2)

A/N: Rest of the collection here Explicit Content Ahead, Minors DNI

Baby Daddy Attuma Chronicles on Ao3

After the door slammed behind Attuma, Okoye found herself weak in the knees and breathing quite heavily.

“You spent 6 years with that asshole?” W’Kabi sucked his teeth as he looked at Okoye adjusting her robe.

“He meant well. The girls probably worried him you know.” She dismissed his comment as she made her way into the kitchen and looked for a glass.

“Some brats they are. Sending him over here like a fucking superhero.” W’Kabi came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

She flinched as he tightened his hold, her grip on the glass lethal. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you gotta teach them they can’t just go crying to him when they don’t like something. You know the other day I was over here and they would not shut up about-“

“Get off of me.” Okoye forced his arms from around her, almost going to chuck the glass at his head as he spoke. “Get out of my house.”

“Okoye.”

“You think you can come in here, get comfy and start talking shit about my family?”

“Oh please. You’re being dramatic as hell. Now let’s go upstairs and finish what we started.” He approached her with his shit eating grin.

God, what was she thinking? Was she really that starved that she let this man into her life so easily.

Her body gave into her earlier thought and threw the glass, barely missing his ear as he flinched away.

“Get out!” She yelled. “Get the shit you came with and go!”

He scrambled to get his things, only having one sleeve in his shirt before leaving. His car roared to life as he sped off.

Attuma scoffed as he started his truck and pulled it into the now empty spot in the driveway. Obviously she knew better.

When he stepped in, Okoye was waiting for him with a broom in hand.

“He’s gone so soon.” The man taunted with a smirk as Okoye shoved the broom in his hands and pointed to the array of glass on the floor.

“Shut up and sweep. Meet me upstairs when you’re done.”

“Can I get a kiss first?” He ran his thumb across her lip as she rolled her eyes.

“Kiss my ass.” Attuma shrugged as she turned away, opting to smack it hard enough she yelped and ran up the stairs a bit faster.

He locked the front door before he started sweeping with a smirk, hoping that just one of the shards had cut W’Kabi on his way out somehow.

“Attuma..hurry up!”

“Don’t rush me woman. Those twins are gonna be all over the place. Gotta make sure it’s safe.”

He made no rush to get up the stairs either, giving her enough time to fix herself onto the bed just how he liked.

“Where are they anyway?” She questioned as he rounded the corner and leaned against the door frame.

“My mom’s. She even offered them to stay the night.”

He lost his shirt and belt, tossing them to the floor as he climbed into the bed beside her. “We got all night.”

“Good.”

She dragged him close, locking her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips. “You miss me?”

He spoke low and gravely against her neck, planting a soft kiss on her collarbone. His voice went straight to her core, making her thrust up in wanting.

Attuma chuckled as his hands trailed up her thighs and under her robe.

“Hope you don’t think I’m going easy on you. Bringing some bitch around my family. Lost your mind for a second there didn’t you?” He taunted her with slow, too soft touches that felt as if they weren’t even there.

“Yes baby. I’m sorry. I missed you bad.” She groaned as he cracked his palm against her ass again.

“Take this shit off.” He pulled her arms from around his neck and she got to work on the simple tie holding the silk together.

Just like that she was bare for him to see. He couldn’t fight the smile that tugged on his lips as she dipped a hand down to cup her pulsing core.

“Attuma..I need you.”

“Oh now you need me? What happened to get the fuck out?”

“Don’t tease me you big asshole.” She whined, not really in position to demand anything of him but she could put on a show.

Her legs opened wide and he pried himself from her, kneeling at the edge of the bed as she slid her fingers between her wet slit. The sound was obscene and the contact made her shiver.

“Attuma-“

“No no no. Show what you do when you miss me.”

Attuma took hold of her foot, an anklet adorning her skin. He smiled as he kissed the rose shaped jewel on the anniversary present.

Without hesitation, Her fingers parted herself and she rub a small circle on her clit, eliciting a moan of the gods.

“Baby, come on. I’m sorry.” She whined further. All sex activities had truthfully been shit since she shut him out of her life the first time. It didn’t take her long to discover that Attuma had ruined her.

He’d taken the high and exhilaration of an orgasm and kept it in his pocket for only him to use. “Just…help me out please.”

“Oh poor baby can’t cum on her own anymore.”

“No.” She clenched around nothing as he shooed her fingers away and replaced them with his own. “I need you Attuma.”

The man kissed a path up her ankle and calf, sucking a bruise into her thigh as his fingers worked her skillfully. His name fell from Okoye’s lips like a chant.

She combed her fingers through his hair and held it back as he attached to her clit, drowning himself in her slick. His tongue worked the bud as his fingers dipped into her walls.

A squeal tumbled from her lips as she gripped at his hair. “Ah! Oh my god!”

Attuma groaned against her as his tongue worked faster and his fingers got deeper.

A coil in her stomach formed and she couldn’t warn him with coherent words, but he always knew when she was close. She clenched around his fingers and her thighs locked around his head as her orgasm ripped through her.

Okoye sighed blissfully as Attuma rose to his feet, planting a kiss on her lips as he got his pants off.

“I’m still disappointed in you.” He lined himself up and pushed in swiftly so she had no time to protest.

Her back arched up and her hands flew out to claw at his arms. “Think you can replace me so fast huh?”

Attuma pressed a hand to her belly as he started to thrust, slow and deliberate making her feel every inch. “N-no Attuma. I could never.” She panted, her head thrown back as she spoke. “But for the love of god move faster!”

“Who the hell are you talking to?” His free hand held her hip as he thrust harder, not faster. Just enough for her to jolt with a gasp.

“Oooh please! Attuma!”

“Please what?” He leaned over her, his breath getting heavy as his body engulfed her.

“Please go faster!”

Finally her wish was fulfilled as both his hands gripped her hips and angled them up. The soft clapping of her skin on his filled the room as he committed to a pace.

Okoye could feel the coil tightening again as he brushed that sensitive part inside her with every thrust. “Fuck I’m gonna cum…Attuma!” She whined against his cheek as he panted against her neck.

“Go ahead baby… Taking me so good… Such a good girl for me.” His eyes squeezed shut as his hips began to stutter.

He stopped moving, gathering himself as she came around him, holding him in like a vice. Once she relaxed, he was on her again, drilling her in with own release on the tip of his fingers.

“Shit baby…Missed you so much. So fucking good. Don’t leave me again baby please.” Attuma wrapped his arms around her body, lifting her up off the bed with a grunt.

He slipped out of her as he stood straight. Okoye’s legs wrapped around his waist tightly. He grabbed hold of his length, stroking a few times before sliding back in.

“You trust me?” He smiled up at her and she nodded.

“Always.”

“Good. Hold on.”

His hands took hold of her ass, squeezing as he bounced her up on his dick. Her grip on him faltered from the force and her head tipped back.

Her moans and whines rang through out the room as the new angle hit her right where she needed.

“Ooh shit! Daddy, right there!”

He didn’t let up, not once, even when her arms slid loose from his shoulders and he had to grip her neck up so she wouldn’t fall.

“Ooh..stay with me gorgeous..don’t lose it now..ah shit!” He watched as she struggled to keep her eyes open, tears rolling down her cheeks as she shut them for a moment.

“Fuuuck....where do you want me?” He slowed just enough for her to say something or give him a sign.

“Right fucking here. Don’t you pull out!”

“Mmm. Want me to fuck you full again? Trying for another baby? Maybe a set of three this time?”

“You crazy mother fucker!” She groaned.

“That’s right.” He chuckled as his hips got more urgent. A few more seconds and he was filling her up until he was leaking out.

She felt full, complete. And if this man ever thought about moving out again, she’d lock him in the attic.

[nevermore-grimes]

Nevermore-Grimes does Daydreamtober 2024

Original art from Pinterest

Prompt #2: New Meeting

Para Perspective: Nevermore Grimes

Paracosm: The Ember Blade Chronicles

TEBC Saga: The New Asgardian Saga

Summary: As Nevermore’s enjoying dinner at her old home with her family, a new character pops in for a visit

Warnings/Tags: Brief crude humor, mentions of guns, mentions of killing

Word Count: 883

“Is that the Backstreet Boys?” Aerith questioned the sudden melody coming from outside. Oddly enough, it sounded like it was getting closer, and it most certainly was not a Backstreet Boys song.

“That’s *NSYNC, ya dip.” I teased after recognizing the song. Bye Bye Bye. “I’m telling Alya you made that mistake, by the way.”

“No, please!” Aerith’s eyes grew wide, a playful smile flickering under her feux fear. “She’ll disown me!”

Just then, a man dressed from head to toe in red, with dual katanas sheathed at his back, came crashing through the bay window. “Surprise shawties!”

“AAAAAAHHH!!!” Aerith screamed bloody murder as the rest of us jumped out of our seats around the kitchen counter.

“Dude, what the hell?” I frowned at the window that took more beatings since I moved out of this place than when I actually lived in it.

“Relax,” The costumed man shut off a portable speaker in his belt as he casually strolled over. “What’s a little property damage between friends?”

Loki leaned in from his spot next to me to quietly ask me, “Do you know this man?”

“No!” I loudly responded. “And he ain’t my friend, either!”

“Ouch.” The man held a gloved hand over his chest. “Is this how you treat your guests? You invited me, sweet cheeks. Remember?”

“Don’t call me that.” I flatly warned him.

“Me-ow.” He made a paw with his hand before reaching towards the food on the table. “Ooh, pizza!”

“Cut that out!” I slapped his hand away. “What do you mean about me inviting you?”

“Uh, hello?” He put his hands on his hips. “Does the name Deadpool not ring a bell? Ya know, the mercenary you called to talk about Avenger stuff with?”

I tap my chin, slowly remembering the details as he recounted them. “Oh yeah…”

“So, you did call him!” Aerith folded her arms.

“Mayyybeee…” I bashfully scratched the back of my neck. “But, I sure as hell didn’t invite him to break my fucking window!”

“Can’t a guy make a dramatic entrance without some uptight homeowner getting all offended anymore?” Deadpool scoffed and flopped down onto the living room couch, propping his feet up on one of the armrests. “Besides, didn’t you get canned and have to move outta this place anyway?”

“That’s not relevant.” I walked over and stood by his feet.

He examined his fingernails. “It is if you’re constantly being gunned down by your last employer.”

“Fuck you.”

“You wish~”

“Ugh!” I threw my arms in the air.

“Excuse me?” Aerith approached the back of the couch with a small wave. “Mr. Deadpool?”

“Oh, please.” He waved off the title. “I’m not a formal guy. Deadpool’s the name.”

“Right, um,” Aerith leaned on the cushions. “You said Nevi called you out here for Avenger stuff, right?”

“Nevi?” He folded his hands behind his head. “If that’s what you call Ember Blade, then yeah.”

“She’s my sister.” I rolled my eyes. “She’s not gonna call me Ember Blade.”

“Wow, you guys do not look related.” Deadpool remarked.

“Yeah, we get that a lot.” Aerith waved off his commentary. “But, if you wanted to talk about Avenger stuff, why would you come looking for her if you knew she got fired?”

He thought on this for a moment, then shrugged. “Same reason you’d ask Rowling about wizards. Has-beens give good advice. And, boy, did your sister peak.”

I flipped him off in response.

“Well,” He sat up with a soft grunt. “Whaddaya say, Grimes? What’s the secret to being drafted onto the hero team?”

I looked to Aerith, who shot me a look that seemed to say Are you seriously considering this?

Why, yes, my mental interpretation of the look in Aerith’s eye, I was.

“Alright.” I walked around the couch to sit down on the edge of the coffee table in front of him. “You want in on the Avengers? You picked the right person. I’ll tell you my secret tto getting on the team… But, it’s gonna cost ya.”

Deadpool somehow narrowed the solid white eyes of his mask at me. “What are we talkin’?”

I leaned back on one of my hands, examining the fingernails of the other. “You know how my situation makes it difficult for me to be out in the open while I’m on Earth, yeah?”

“You mean your situation where the news exposed you as a former serial killer, the aunt of your unofficial adoptive son took him back, and your job fired you before starting to hunt you for sport?” Deadpool shrugged. “Yeah. But, I’m sure it’s not that difficult to get around if you don’t mind gettin’ swiss cheesed.”

“…Right,” I continued. “So, here’s my offer. You run a few errands for me on Earth, and then I’ll show you what it looks like to be recruited by the Avengers.”

I held a hand out to him, raising an expectant eyebrow. “Do we have a deal?”

He looked at me for a moment, letting out a soft hum in consideration before finally reaching out to grab my hand. “You got a deal, pookie.”

[sustainably-du-mortain]

hi hello 12 from the ship dialogue for Madeleine and Morgan 🥺 (@ do-this-for-me)

Thank you so much @do-this-for-me for the prompt and the soft m feels that went with it!! <33

12. your hugs are nice

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles Pairing: f!detective (Madeleine Kingston) x Morgan Word count: ~1.4k prompt list here

Where the hell is she?

When they got back from patrol, Morgan directly headed to Madeleine’s room, fully expecting to find her in bed, reading. After knocking a couple times, and getting no answer, she fished her phone out of her pocket and checked the time. It was barely past 10pm and Maddie usually isn’t sleeping yet by then.

The thought had then crossed her mind that she may have gotten a migraine and gone to sleep a little earlier so, quietly, she entered Maddie’s room. Just to make sure that she was okay and that she had everything she needed, but if she was already asleep, she wouldn’t disturb her. She walked to her bed, the soft glow of her phone lighting the room, although she didn’t need it. But all she saw was Madeleine’s empty bed.

 She rushed out of the room and headed for the kitchen. Maybe she was hungry and decided to grab some snacks, but to her utmost disappointment, Nat was the only one there. She was out the door before Nat could even say anything. She turned back and took a couple turns to get to the living room, where she only found Farah, throwing a mischievous glance her way as soon as she stepped into the room. She hustled past Ava on her way to the library, which she found out was dark and empty. No Maddie.

So now, she’s pacing up and down the hallway, racking her brain on Maddie’s possible whereabouts. Her battered car is parked outside so she’s bound to be in the warehouse. These are the three places where Maddie spends most of her time when she’s visiting and, after ruling out the Roof because it’s pouring outside, Morgan is starting to run out of ideas.

The sewing room! 

A few weeks ago, Madeleine asked if it’d be possible to set up a sewing room for her at the warehouse, in case she had to be put on house arrest again. So, these past few days,  they’ve been working on furnishing one of the many empty rooms for her.

Morgan is about to rush over there when her whole body quivers, making her stop in her tracks. As she looks down at herself to realize that she’s still wearing her drenched clothes, she suddenly becomes very aware of the fact that she’s freezing and that she’s probably covered in goosebump under the clothes sticking to her skin. The realization only making her shiver some more.

She eyes the end of the corridor on her left, the one leading to the sewing room, leading to Madeleine, and then her eyes fall on the corridor facing her, where the promise of a warm shower awaits her. As her heart sways between both options, her teeth start chattering, settling the decision for her: she needs to change.

But she doesn’t make it past her doorway.

“You’re here…”

Her voice is barely more than a whisper, yet it’s enough to make the girl tucked up in her bed, glance up at her. With her back resting on the headboard, a plaid thrown over her shoulders and the duvet pulled up to her chest, Madeleine is reading in the exact same position Morgan pictured her in earlier, except that she’s in her bed. 

“I was looking for you”, she wants to tell her, but the words get stuck in her throat. Whether it’s because she’s embarrassed to admit it or because her chattering teeth make it hard to speak, Morgan doesn’t know.

As she steps further into the room, Maddie closes her book, slipping a bookmark in-between the pages, focusing her attention on Morgan. She gives her that smile that brings out her dimples and lights up the whole room. If it was any brighter Morgan would have to look away.

“So…my bed, huh?” The vampire wants her tone teasing, but all she manages in that moment is confusion. Maddie laughs and a wave of warmth washes over her. She’s not cold anymore, or at least that’s what she thought before a shiver makes her whole body visibly shake.

“Want to join me?” Maddie asks, patting the bed.

Morgan is already peeling off her wet clothes. “Thought you’d never ask.” She discards her jeans and top into a puddle on the floor and joins Madeleine under the sheets.

She clenches her teeth when the cold fabric rubs against her skin, but the feeling doesn’t last as she scouts closer to Maddie, her head instantly finding her place in the crook of her neck. Madeleine lets out a gasp.

“You’re cold!” She states the obvious as she rolls out of the vampire’s grasp.

“And you’re warm, come back here!” Morgan says, pulling her back into her arms.

Maddie doesn’t try to get away this time and even brings the vampire a little closer to her, shifting a little so that their bodies fit perfectly together, like two pieces of a puzzle. She brushes away the strands of hair that stick to Morgan’s cheek, her fingers lingering a moment too long. Morgan catches her hand before she can take it away. Pressing a kiss in the palm of her hand, she watches as Madeleine turns that bright shade of pink she’s started to grow very fond of.

“So, how come you’re in my bed? Not that I mind, you’re welcome in my bed anytime, sweetheart…”

Madeleine chuckles a little at the innuendo. “Couldn’t sleep.”

She doesn’t need to explain why she couldn’t find sleep, it’s pretty obvious in the way her hand rests on her stomach, in the thin layer of sweat that covers her face, or in the pillbox she tried to hide under the pillows when Morgan entered the room.

“I know a great way to tire you enough.” She instantly regrets the words coming out of her mouth as she realizes that the lewd comment is probably not what Maddie needs right now.

“I’m sure you do, but that’s not what I was looking for, tonight.”

There’s a moment of silence as Morgan ponders over the best way to offer her some comfort before she figures that asking is probably the best way to understand what Madeleine needs. “And what exactly were you looking for?” 

“You.” 

Morgan is rendered speechless by the confession while Maddie, worried that she’s made a fool of herself, hastily adds something that she doesn’t hear. She sees her lips moving, but all she hears is that single word echoing inside her head. She smiles, and before she can catch herself, she’s planting a kiss on Maddie’s lips. A single peck that leaves Madeleine stunned.

But as silence stretches, Morgan starts to worry. Did I do something wrong? Maybe I should have asked before kissing her. But her worrying is cut short as Madeleine cups her cheek before closing the distance between them. Her lips are gentle and soft against hers  as Madeleine returns the kiss and when she parts away, Morgan yearns for more.

“So, is that a yes?” Maddie asks, her hand still resting on her cheek.

“Huh?”

Madeleine laughs when she realizes that the vampire didn’t get a single word of her little ramble. “I was asking if I could stay here tonight.”

“Well, since you’re looking really comfy in my bed already-” Morgan takes a couple seconds to feign indecision, as if spending the night with Madeleine wasn’t the exact thing she’s been hoping for all evening. “I guess you could stay, sweetheart…”

Pulling her back into her arms, Maddie whispers: “Thank you.” 

Morgan kisses her collarbone in answer and quiet settles back between them.

They stay like this for a while: Morgan’s hands playing with the fabric of Maddie’s nightgown, her lips brushing against her skin anytime she breathes. Madeleine’s fingers tracing the freckles on her face and neck, peppering soft kisses on her forehead when she thinks Morgan is asleep.

The quiet is filled with Madeleine’s presence and Morgan basks in it.

She revels in the soft thrumming of Maddie’s heartbeat against her ear and the warmth of her body against hers. She relishes in the sweet scent of oats lingering on her skin and the soft sound of her breathing as she dozes off to sleep. 

“Your hugs are nice.” The words, spoken in nothing more than a sleepy whisper, break the silence and, for a moment, Morgan wonders if she’s heard them correctly but, Maddie’s arms wrapping tighter around her, leave no space for doubt.

“Yours are really nice too” she whispers back once Madeleine is sound asleep.

[nathanialhowe]

You feel as the sphinx pulls at the strings of a distant memory, conjuring it forth. A relic of the past. Foggy with age and forgetfulness. You remember there was a time between the end of the civil war and the beginning of Nashir’s attack where your parents were still flecked in gold and glory. Your father sitting at the kitchen table bathed in pale sunlight, and you’re bringing firewood in from the yard. And Varys Clearmight, the dwarven Bard and author who’d go on to chronicle the civil war and the Resistance’s part in it—who’d someday make the long, lonesome trek back from the palace to the Gauntlet’s camp, carrying your father’s body in his arms and telling him, “I got you, Varv…just a little longer…I got you,”—is sitting across the table from him now, labouring over a manuscript and a coffee.

VARYS: I mean, hah, how do you write about this shit? Shaping your own legacy. I remember all the pieces, but it’s like the picture’s still hazy. How do you describe a thing that don’t exist anymore? VARVAN: You could start with the people. The people still exist. VARYS: Do they? Hell, what did we really lose back there? It’s more than the buildings. Can’t even remember what we won. Milas died, Ali’s gone, the rest of it’s gone to shit. An’ all the letters keep smudging when I put pen to paper. VARVAN: I think we won some hope, at least. VARYS: Yeah? VARVAN: For the future, I mean. Sometimes you break a crooked bone to heal it properly. Sometimes you fight a war so your kids don’t have to. I don’t want children having to do what we did. I don’t want to leave behind a broken world. Do you? So we break the broken thing in hopes of fixing it. VARYS: Nah. Nah. You’re right. ‘Course you’re right. [he laughs] See? Figured it was a smart thing to ask you. You saw all of it. The healer’s always got the bloodiest hands. Right?

[shizukais]

Hi....If you don't mind, can I ask, what are your top 10 (or top 7) favorite media (can be books/ manga/ anime/movies/tv series)? Why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before......Thanks....

Hi! Thank you for asking ❤️ On general (no specific order):

Coraline, Neil Gaiman (book)

I read it for the first time in elementary school. I completely fell in love with the story. I was young and I remember being quite impressed with it (for a children's book, it's quite shocking huh). Years later I reread the book and felt again as if I was reading it for the first time. It's been my favorite book for a long time. I always read it every now and then.

Friends (TV series)

My comfort show. I watch it at any time to have fun or just pass the time. I've watched it so many times that I know almost everything about this series. I can talk about it for hours or write a 10,000-word thesis about it.

Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle (manga)

My favorite manga of my collection. My little paper treasure, as I like to call it. I really like this story, it has everything I enjoy in a piece of media (fantasy, mystery, plot twists, angst, well-developted characters, etc). I really wanted to erase my memories and read it as if it were the first time again. It is breathtaking.

One Piece (anime)

Despite having seen Naruto first, One Piece is somehow more memorable for me. Whether due to its long duration or the complexity of the character/world build, One Piece is a remarkable work that I always talk about when talking about favorites.

Shinya Shokudo (manga, TV series)

Talking about Shinya Shokudo is not easy. Whether it's the manga or the TV series, it touches me on several levels. A feeling of nostalgia for something I didn't experience, coziness and tranquility. There are few media that bring me such nice feelings. It's simple but touching. Even though I have zero kitchen skills, I love seeing Master cooking different dishes and the customers telling their unique stories.

Hajime no Ippo (anime, manga)

It's a lifetime series, published since long before I was born. I've been reading it for so many years already! I always say I need to see its ending before I die. It's something that I simply have as a goal in life lol Seeing Ippo reaching the end of his story. (Mori sensei please be healthy, okay?)

World Trigger (anime, manga)

Amazing story, amazing characters, amazing world building. Everything about World Trigger is amazing to me. I'm a big fan of science fiction and World Trigger delivers everything and much more. The only sad thing about it is the very slow pace for the story to progress, but we have to be grateful that even with health problems, Ashihara sensei keeps going. I'll always support him and wish to see the end of WT someday.

Supernatural (TV series)

I watched it for the first time when I was a kid and it scared the hell out of me. Ever since then I've been watching SPN from time to time. I love the cheap drama and the quirky stories. Although, for me the quality of the series has deteriorated a lot over the seasons and I don't understand the fandom tbh. But that's another topic I guess.

Tokyo Revengers (manga)

Tokyo Revengers started as an obsession and has remained as a favorite. Time travel stories are always a must-read / must-watch for me and TR knows what they're doing with it. I love protagonists who at the beginning are nothing, but over time manage to develop into someone better in order to achieve their goals. Also, Mikey has become a very imporant character for me, I can say that in the end, he was pretty much the reason why I read the whole thing.

*I didn't include movies because I would need a whole list to fit all of them, there are so many that I would like to mention.

**Honorable mentions: mushishi, natsume yuujinchou, link click, nge, golden kamuy, pandora hearts, yu yu hakusho, dorohedoro, hxh, naruto, bsd, clamp's works, junji ito's works.

[daisymakesstuff]

Chapter 1 - Devastation

| Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles

Relationships: Morgan x Female Detective (Neveah Desanto)

Chapter Word Count: 2,801

Description: The Chamber forbids the detective from leaving the warehouse shortly after she gets a call about an emergency at the police station. When even Ava isn't privy to the details, Neveah is left to find out what happened herself.

Read on AO3

Morgan trails lazily behind Neveah as she rushes around the warehouse getting her things together like a pastel whirlwind. 

“I have to go, there’s an–” 

“Emergency at the station,” Morgan finishes. “Vampire hearing, remember?” 

Some of the tension drains out of Neveah’s shoulders, and she sighs. “I’ll be back as soon as I can–” 

Morgan cuts her off by tilting Neveah’s chin up and drawing her into a kiss. It’s a gentle, loving kiss, heated like hot coals. 

“Go. I’ll be here when you get back,” Morgan promises. Neveah throws her an adoring smile, one that really tests Morgan’s resolve to let her leave. 

In the end, she doesn’t have to. When Neveah turns around Ava is standing in the doorway with her arms crossed. Neveah’s expression crinkles with confusion. 

“We have orders from The Chamber,” Ava explains. “You are not to leave the warehouse until further notice.” 

“But there’s an emergency at the station–” Neveah starts. Ava shakes her head at her, holding up a hand to stop her. 

“I have been advised the Agency is handling the situation. You are not allowed to leave the warehouse.” 

“Why the hell not?” Morgan growls at the news. Ava looks between them, her stoic expression softening a little with sympathy. 

“They wouldn’t tell me,” Ava answers, irritation straining her voice. 

It’s not that unusual for the Chamber to meddle in their affairs anymore, even if it pisses Morgan off every time. What is unusual though is for no one in Unit Bravo to have an inkling as to why it’s happening. 

Neveah wilts as an understanding of the situation hits her. It has to be bad, and probably related to her, if they won’t let her leave. What could be so bad that even Unit Bravo isn’t allowed to know? 

“We’re not seriously going to listen to them, are we!?” Morgan asks, though her angry voice isn’t quite as sharp as usual. Nevah’s come to learn that means Morgan knows she’ll end up going along with whatever it is and is just arguing for the sake of it. 

“We’re not disobeying orders from the Chamber, Morgan,” Ava shuts the idea down immediately. 

Neveah’s shoulders slouch with defeat. She turns to slink off to the kitchen. Ava seems entirely unaffected by the glare Morgan shoots her before she follows behind. 

The kitchen is filled with bright natural light from the cool spring morning. The pleasant space and her cheery outfit seem to highlight Neveah’s worried expression as she slumps into one of the kitchen chairs. 

“You all right?” Morgan asks. 

“How am I supposed to help if I don’t know what’s going on?” Neveah asks, more to herself than her girlfriend. Morgan laughs with a resigned sort of amusement. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s the point, sweetheart.”  

“Someone has to know what’s happening. If I could just…” Neveah looks down at her phone, and her expression brightens with realization. 

Morgan settles into her favorite shadowy corner as Neveah starts dialing anyone she can think of who might know something. She manages about 10 minutes of actually listening to Neveah exchange casual pleasantries with person after person at the Agency before she starts tuning out the words and just enjoys the cadence of Neveah’s voice. 

Unfortunately for Neveah, even the insular Facility gossip seems to have been shut down temporarily. A few of the people she spoke with seemed antsy, but they weren’t willing to tell her anything. She scrolls through her phone to find another contact to call, but the incoming call screen takes over. 

“Mrs. Jones!” Neveah greets her with as much enthusiasm as she can muster. Mrs. Jones is one of Wayhaven’s older residents. She loves to keep up with the local gossip, and is also one of Tina’s neighbors, so they run into each other frequently. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“Det– Neveah,” Mrs. Jones begins, “I know you don’t do much detective work around town any more but I was wondering if you knew what was happening with all the commotion outside Detective Poname’s house?” 

“Outside Tina’s house?” Neveah asks, trying to keep the note of panic out of her voice. Her act is good enough for the human on the phone, but it draws Morgan’s attention back to the conversation immediately. 

“Oh yes, there have been a few black vans out front all day and strangers going back and forth around the area. They are very…brisk. Must be city folk, I think,” Mrs. Jones explains. 

“Oh,” Neveah makes a noise of recognition at the description, pressing a smile onto her face even as her heart sinks into her stomach. “The situation is well in-hand, Mrs. Jones. Those are volunteers helping the police department.” 

“I see, that’s good to hear,” Mrs. Jones answers back politely, though she seems disappointed with the lack of information. Me too,  Mrs. Jones, Neveah thinks. 

A pair of arms wraps loosely around her waist, and she turns her head to find Morgan resting her chin on Neveah’s shoulder. The touch is soothing, helping bolster Neveah enough to get through the rest of the call without spiraling into a panic. 

“It is,” Neveah agrees, somewhat believeably. “Unfortunately, I need to go, but it’s been a pleasure speaking with you.”

“Oh, of course! You as well, dearie. I hope to see you soon,” Mrs. Jones replies. 

Neveah disconnects the call, letting herself sink into Morgan’s touch. Morgan, of course, takes the opportunity to let her hands roam a little. 

“You know,” Morgan purrs, “I have better ways to take your mind off things.” 

Neveah barely seems to notice the flirtation. 

“I think I’m going to keep calling,” Neveah says. Morgan nods, her hands stilling. 

“Do you need me here?” Morgan asks. She means ‘here’ as in wrapped around Neveah. It can be hard to differentiate sometimes, but Neveah’s gotten pretty good at it over the years they’ve been together. Given the current circumstances, she would be hard pressed to get Morgan more than a couple of rooms away. That suits Neveah fine though; she doesn’t need that kind of space. 

She shakes her head. “No, I’m okay. I’m kind of restless right now.” 

“That offer still stands, you know,” Morgan says, taking a step back so she can give her girlfriend a long, leisurely inspection. “I have plenty of ways to settle you down…or rile you up.” 

Neveah almost gets distracted by the suggestion, but Morgan has already settled back into her shadowy corner. Taking a deep breath, Neveah calls back the antsy desk clerk on duty she had spoken with earlier. The sound of the phone ringing seems to stretch on for much longer than it should. Neveah fidgets with the skirt of her dress to try and ease some of her tension at first, and then starts pacing around the kitchen. 

The line finally picks up.

“Hello, I’m so sorry to bother you again—“ Neveah starts. She feels bad about being so…manipulative, but this involves Tina. She would do almost anything for her. 

“No, you’re not bothering me at all,” he reassures her, though his voice is strained. 

“Thank you, that’s very sweet. Do you remember my friend Tina?” Neveah asks, as casually as she can manage. Simply mentioning Tina’s name seems to put the agent on edge. She just needs to go at it from the right angle.

“Her birthday is coming up soon and I know they’ve been so busy with the new baby. I was hoping to plan something special for her.”  This part is true, at least. “Do you think I could talk to Adrian— Agent Pierson— quickly? I wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.” 

The phone line goes uncomfortably quiet for a few seconds. 

“Uh, you know, let me just call someone for you—!“ the agent rushes out, putting her on hold before she can pry further. 

Roughly 30 Minutes Later

That’s how Neveah ends up on the phone with the Facility’s director, getting the details on the situation. Morgan really shouldn’t be surprised. She’s personally watched Neveah use her kindness to break a Trapper during an interrogation, convince a race of supernaturals to reconsider their entire reason for existence, and win the alliance of an ancient celestial being notorious for not forming alliances. 

Despite that, Morgan is still a little surprised and very impressed. 

“There was an incident this morning where two locations in Wayhaven were ambushed simultaneously by currently unknown suspects. Two casualties and one injury were reported,” the director begins. Their tone is all professionalism, possibly reading directly from a report.

“The police station?” Neveah asks. A pit forms in her stomach swirling with the familiar nausea of dread. 

“A police patrol,” the director corrects, “...and the Pierson household. Agent Pierson did not make it, but we were able to recover the Pierson’s child. He is safe in Agency custody at the Facility."

“…and Tina?” Neveah chokes out through barely held back tears. She has a white knuckle grip on the phone, leaning on the kitchen counter for support. 

“Unfortunately…Tina Pierson was found dead on arrival.” 

Neveah’s knees give out beneath her and Morgan rushes in to keep her from falling by wrapping a hand around her waist. She collapses further, hunching over Morgan’s arm with the force of her sobs. Morgan hauls her upright, twisting her around so she can cry into Morgan’s shoulder instead. 

Through the buzzing of the phone Morgan picks up the director’s voice. “Agent Desanto? Agent Desanto, are you there?” they ask. Morgan wiggles the phone from Neveah’s hand and presses it to her own ear. 

“She heard you. Call back later,” Morgan barks, aggressively ending the call and pushing the phone onto the counter. With both hands free, Morgan lifts her girlfriend’s legs off the ground and sits on the kitchen floor, settling Neveah in her lap. Neveah sinks into the embrace, wrapping her arms around Morgan as she wails into the crook of her neck.  

Morgan’s first instinct is always to fight whatever has hurt her, but there’s fuck all she can do about this. 

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

There’s a point where Neveah cries so hard that she has to gasp for breath between sobs, which worries Morgan enough she considers asking Nat to call a medic, but eventually the tears settle into shaky breaths. Neveah still hasn’t said anything, her shaky breathing ebbs and flows between almost calm to nearly-in-tears-again. 

Morgan tries rubbing her hand on Neveah’s back. That’s what people do when someone cries, right? The movement is awkward and stiff, not exactly the kind of touching she’s used to doing.

It doesn’t seem to help, so she stops. 

She has no idea how long it’s been when Neveah finally gets the strength to move again, wiping away the tear tracks on her face and slowly standing up. Neveah’s gaze lands on the wet spot on Morgan’s shirt, the burgundy of her shirt almost black with tears and snot. 

“I’m sorry I ruined your shirt,” Neveah says softly. 

“It’ll wash,” Morgan answers with a shrug. "Is there anything I can do?"

Neveah shakes her head. She turns around to look for something, but it devolves into more of an aimless pivoting while she flicks a blank stare from place to place. Her eyesight is fine, but her brain seems to refuse to process the information. 

“What are you looking for?” Morgan prompts after a few seconds, when it’s clear Neveah’s not going to get anywhere in the state she’s in. 

“My phone,” Neveah murmurs. Morgan grabs her phone off the counter, and hands it back to her. 

“Thanks.” She shoves it into the pocket of her dress and wanders toward the door. 

“Where are you going?” Morgan asks, more curious than anything else. Did she even know?

“I—I need to go to the Facility to check on Calloway. I didn’t ask how he was and he’s all alone now—“ Neveah has to take a few deep breaths through her nose to hold back another bout of crying. 

“I’ll drive you,” Morgan says with a nod. Now probably isn’t the time to let Neveah know she has no idea who the fuck that is. 

“You haven’t been cleared to leave yet,” Ava’s voice carries through the kitchen, firm but sympathetic. Once again she’s standing in front of the doorway, arms crossed. Her large, muscular frame fills out nearly all of the available space. Knowing the team leader, she’s probably been listening from the foyer this entire time, expecting exactly this sort of situation. 

Neveah and Morgan’s gaze both flash to her at the same time. From the way Ava’s expression twists, whatever heartbroken look Neveah’s giving her is something Morgan doesn’t want to see.

“I just want to go the Facility. You always say it’s the safest—“ Neveah pleads. Her voice is already wobbling when Ava holds up a hand to cut her off.

“You can’t go right now,” Ava repeats sternly. Then she pauses and softens her tone, “but I’ll make some calls and see if we can get permission soon. If the child is at the Facility, they are safe.” 

Neveah wilts in defeat, her breathing going quick and uneven like she’s going to cry again. Ava nods in approval, seemingly satisfied that she won’t try to leave again. 

Morgan growls, positioning herself in front of Neveah. Ava knows this isn’t something Neveah would usually back down on. She’s just using Neveah’s vulnerability to her own advantage. Sure, if it were anyone else Morgan wouldn’t have any complaints, but it’s not anyone else. It’s Neveah .  Morgan’s free hand clenches into a fist at her side, but Ava’s stoic mask is back in place now. She shows no further reaction to either of their responses, pivoting on her heel and leaving the room.

 A quiet, single sob from Neveah is the only thing that keeps Morgan from starting a fight. 

Instead, she turns Neveah to face her, staring into those deep brown eyes with an intensity she hopes will convey her message. Morgan can’t give her the comfort she needs, or bring her friend back from the dead, but getting her to the Facility? That she can do. 

Whether Neveah understands or not, the eye contact seems to help either way. Even now, she looks at Morgan’s stormy grey eyes like they’re the most captivating thing in the world. Slowly, her breathing settles back down. 

“Come on,” Morgan urges, “I need to put on another shirt.” She turns to head out of the kitchen and is nearly in the hallway before she realizes Neveah isn’t behind her. When Morgan looks back, her girlfriend hasn’t moved an inch. She just stands there, wilted and staring in the middle of the room. Morgan puts an arm around her shoulders, tugging Neveah to her side. 

With the guidance from Morgan’s arm, Neveah numbly follows along beside her. She hates seeing her girlfriend cry. She might hate the listless staring even more, the way Neveah moves like a ghost, just an echo of a person trying to complete a task. 

Ava’s on the phone in the next room when they get to the foyer. Good. The keys to the SUV hang on a hook by the door when they aren’t in Ava’s pocket. Morgan quietly pockets them as they pass through, heading down the stairs toward the bedrooms. 

As they turn down one hallway to get to the next, Farah pokes her head out from around a corner, open concern on her face. She’s here to help, apparently. Morgan briefly flashes the key fob toward her and they exchange a meaningful look before Morgan continues the walk to her bedroom. 

-----------

Morgan does actually change into a new shirt once they get there. Then, she waits until she can hear Farah making a menace of herself in the other room before sneaking Neveah out to the car. When Morgan opens the door to let her inside, Neveah climbs in after only a nudge and even buckles up on instinct. She doesn’t seem to actually realize where she is until they are a few miles down the road though. 

“You’re taking me to the Facility?” Neveah asks hopefully.

“No. We’re fleeing the country,” Morgan answers sarcastically. She flicks her gaze briefly over to Neveah, hoping she didn’t just make things worse with the quip. It’s a relief when she finds Neveah looking the closest to happy she’s been in hours. 

“Aren’t the guards going to know I’m not supposed to be there?” Neveah asks. 

“Maybe. But by the time we get there it’ll be safer to let you in than send you back.”  

The rest of the car ride passes in silence, but Neveah puts her hand over the one Morgan has resting on the console, squeezing gratefully. Morgan slots their fingers together.

[zaunseye]

mun comforts

Comfort food: chicken congee, tinola, corn chowder, pork schnitzel, japanese curry 

Comfort drink(s): chai latte, coffee, diet coke

Comfort movie(s): Robocop (1987), Aliens, Hook, Atlantis: the Lost Empire, Treasure Planet, Highlander, Mortal Kombat (1995)

Comfort show(s): Arcane, Kitchen Nightmares, Hotel Hell, youtube essays

Comfort clothing: leggings, joggers, t-shirts, hoodies, loungewear

Comfort song(s): You're Gonna Go Far, Kid - the Offspring, Bloom - Pogo, Dirty Little Animals - BONES UK

Comfort book(s): Lord of the Rings, The Chronicles of Narnia (problematic i know don't @ me), Annihilation, Any sort of Shel Silverstein poetry.

Comfort game(s): Sims 3 & 4, FFXIV, Dragon Age Origins, Dragon Age Inquisition, Destiny 2, Until Dawn, Mass Effect, Batman: Arkham Asylum, Stardew Valley. Subnautica, Torchlight 2, SMITE

tagged by :: @gnarledbite (ty!) tagging :: whoever wants to do this! -- tag me!

[giggly-squiggily]

Bruuh when I saw that you read/re-read Chronicles of Vladimir Tod, I was like 'yaaaas'. I started re-reading it again (literally bought all 5 books), and I am literally dying for a ticklish!Vlad and tickler!Otis fic!

It has been 89 years...but finally, on this day...I have done it! I have written this fic! :D @nutzgunray-lvt I believe this was you? If not well- here you are anyway! :D I haven't read Vladmir Tod in so long, so this was a blast to write. I hope you like it!

“Vladimir.”

“What-hey!” The mentioned boy yelped when Otis’ hand came around him, snagging a cookie off his plate. “What the hell, that was mine!”

“Uncle Tax.” Otis grinned around a mouthful of chocolate goodness, shooting a wink as his nephew pouted. 

This was a running gag for them- the notorious “Uncle Tax.” Well- it wasn’t THAT notorious. All of Otis’ antics were fairly minor, ranging from stealing a sip of Vlad’s drink (“It’s O-negative!”O) or borrowing one of his many t-shirts (“Were the same size, Vladimir, and besides- how often do you see a vampire walking around with a ‘I went to Slayer School’ T-shirt?”). Really- Vlad didn’t mind them all that much.

But when it came to Aunt Nelly’s famous cookies though…

That’s where the line is drawn.

Watching his uncle with the grand stink eye of all the Tod bloodline, Vlad turned back to his plate and carried on his way, one cookie unburdened. He’d get his revenge in time. For now- let it seem he’s just being a bratty teenager over sweets.

It was as Uncle Otis taught him; diversion is the best sneak attack.

~~~3 weeks later~~~

“Oo, are those what I think they are?” Otis’ breathed in the warm smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, all but floating into the kitchen. Nelly had already gone to work, it seemed, a note on the counter letting the boys know she’s doing a double shift and how to heat up the dinner she left.

Also, on the back of the note- a clear instruction: “No cookies before dinner, Vladimir.”

“Good thing I’m not Vladimir, then.” Otis snickered in delight, carefully picking at the plastic wrap around the plate of sugary treats. He was pretty sure his mentioned nephew was over at Henry’s tonight, meaning he’d have the house- and these delectable treats- all to himself. For a brief moment, he considered leaving a few for Vladmir to find in the morning.

And then he thought about the sass the younger vampire had been giving him the past couple of days and decided against it. Can’t award bad behavior afterall. Giddy in mischief, he brought the cookie to his lips, taking a bite.

And immediately spit it out into the sink.

“Pfft- Oh god! Oh my word!” Otis grabbed the sink hose, rinsing his mouth out in a desperate attempt to rid the salty catacomb he bit into. What happened? Nelly’s baked treats were never this salty! It was as if she went mad and forgot sugar exists! How could-

“Well well, look what we have here.” Otis froze, eyes widening at the sound. Turning slowly, he found Vlad leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and brow raised. Something smug was in his eyes despite his expression being flat. “Uncle Otis- to spit out Aunt Nelly’s hard work like that- and into the sink. How shameful.”

“V-Vladmir! I thought- it’s not- why aren’t you-” The blonde sputtered, looking at the front door and back to the young man watching him.

“Henry’s out visiting his cousin this weekend.” Vlad jerked his chin towards the plate. “And I lied. Aunt Nelly didn’t make those cookies. I did.”

“What?” Otis reeled back in shock, betrayal cutting into him like a stake.

“Yep. I used her recipe, but I accidentally mixed up the sugar and salt.” There was nothing accidental in that tone. “Maybe I dropped an additional cup in there too for good measure- I’ve never been much of a baker.”

“You poisoned me!” Otis declared in horror, backing away into the stove. “Why, Vladimir?”

“It’s like you’ve taught us in class, Uncle Otis. If you unfairly tax the people of a country, they’re gonna fight back.” Vlad let his lips quirk up in a small victorious smirk. “Your Uncle Tax has reached a high point it shouldn’t have crossed.”

“Oh…so this is how I die…” Otis sank to the floor, a hand grasping his chest. “Betrayed by my own blood, at the mercy of my greed.” He closed his eyes, letting his head fall forward. “Eu tu, Brute?”

“Liberty, freedom. Tyranny is dead.” Vlad replied, fighting down a grin as he watched his uncle fake-twitch in death. “You weren’t even gonna share, either. I could hear your thoughts without even having to read your mind!”

“So it seems…I’ve been bested.” Otis peeked up at him through blonde locks, a smirk of his own starting to form on his lips. “But alas, I am no mere mortal Vladmir. For I…am a god!” He was across the room in seconds-

The space Vlad once held was empty. Looking up, Otis turned to the living room, finding the younger boy on the defense.

“What kind of death scene was that?” He cried, yelping when Otis sped towards him again, just evading an outstretched hand. “What are you, a zombie?”

“No, but I am a vampire! A vampire who feeds off the betrayal of his own!” Otis darted again and again, each time just missing Vlad but getting closer. “And you’ve proven to be quite the feast I’m looking for, Vladimir!”

“You’re so freaking- AH!” Vlad yelped when the back of his hoodie was snatched, stopping him from bolting around the couch a third time. There was a tussle, limbs flailing and the world spinning. Finally, Vlad found himself pinned to the couch, eyes wide as Otis loomed over with long, wiggling fingers. “U-Uncle Otis! You don’t need to dohohoho this!” He giggled out, trying to squirm away.

“What’s so funny? I never thought you’d be the type to laugh in the face of death, Vladimir.” Otis smirked, all teeth before he attacked, hands flying over his Nephew’s torso. Vlad arched before letting out an honest to god scream, the sound dissolving into relentless laughter as he flailed and kicked beneath his uncle’s cruel clutches.

“GEhahahahahahhahahha! Whahahhahit! Whahahhaait Uncle Ohoohohohotis I’m shahahhhahahrry!” He cried out, cheeks already flushing a pretty shade of pink as he laughed. “Coohohoohohme on, quuhuhuhuhuhuit ihihihiihihihiht!”

“What? You’re sorry? After all that planning? My you give up too easily, Vladimir!” Otis chuckled alongside him, his fingers finding that awful spot along his lower ribs just to hear those adorable bird chirps. “Then again, this could just be your way of sneaking away for your next line of attack!”

“Maahahahhahybe it is, mahahahhaybe it ihihihihihisn’t!” Vlad wheezed around a snort, his hands shooting down when Otis prodded at his belly. “Nahhahahaha doohohoohohon’t!”

“Ah, so a non-answer eh? I know how to handle these!” Otis shot his hands up and under Vlad’s hoodie, further driving his nephew into hysterics as his fingers danced across his belly. “Now, are you ready to give up, Vladimir?”

“GHEHAHHAHAHAHAHA! OHOOHOHOHOHOHTIS PLEHEHEHEHAHAHHASE!” Vlad squealed, his laugh going near silent from just how ticklish everything was.

“I’m waiting, Vladimir.”

“FIHIHIHIIHNE FIHIIHIHIHINE YOU WIHIHIHIIHN! I GIHIHIHIIHVE UP!” Vlad cried out, gasping for air when Otis retracted his hands, ending his tickling. The smaller vampire curled into himself, rolling onto his side and falling off the cushions. “Gahhaha…ahahaha…mehehehean!”

“So is tampering with goldy relics.” Otis reminded, making his nephew giggle. “Did you really do that because of the Uncle Tax thing?”

“Hehe…heh…y-yeah?” Vlad rolled onto his back, pushing his bangs back with a tired hand. “And I’d do it again too.”

“Pfft- a true rebel in the making.” Otis laughed, poking Vlad in the belly before standing up, offering a hand. “Really though, I am sorry if I pushed it too far, Vladimir.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry for eh…poisoning you.” Vlad snorted sheepishly, smoothing out his clothes. “Though it was kinda funny watching you rinse your mouth out with the sink hose.”

“It’s quite- hey!” Otis mock glared as Vlad cackled, shaking his head. “Fine fine, all is forgiven. Now, come help me put in dinner. We’ll make a proper batch of cookies after all our hard work.”

“Sounds good! I’ll add the sugar!” Vlad grinned, doubling over in mirth when Otis gave him a stink eye. “I’m kidding!”

The second batch turned out much sweeter.

Thanks for reading!

[morteamore]

I've finally been able to write for self-care again. Hallelujah. I'm feeling inspired and on fire.

Anyway, Yes, Chef!: Second Course is a fic I'm doing for no good reason. It's a 'where are they now' type story canon to The Cooking Chronicles AU and also explores plotlines that fell to the wayside in the original fic because they weren't relevant. It's sort of vignette style, but I'm going to try and make it a coherent narrative.

This is an extremely early draft and just me working some things out for now. If it ever gets finished and posted, which seems unlikely but maybe, it'll probably get drastically changed

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

It was about 13:45 on a Sunday afternoon, and the plaid couch sitting in the center of the cabin’s main living room was fully occupied, as were two of the armchairs and recliners off to the sides. The air was rife with chatter, layered and meandering, and thick smoke, which was weighted by heavy notes of chicory and ash. Woolen drapes blocked soft golden sunlight from glaring against an enormous holo screen. The sound was muted, replaced by the backdrop of sizzling meat cooking on an induction stovetop in the nearby kitchen. The couch frame creaked as Zane Flynt leaned back, his feet, snug in a pair of hiking sandals, coming to rest on top of the coffee table. He blew smoke from his cigar towards the ceiling fan making a slow rotation high above him, ashing into an empty beer can sitting between his legs.

“It’s what I said, innit? Thinking this old dog has reached the end of his tether. I’ll still be on with the lot of you. Just to the lesser extent.”

Sitting in one of the armchairs, Athena had turned away from reading the closed captions on the holo screen to stare Zane down. Her features were drawn and rigid, her gaze unwavering. Zane, who made brief eye contact, looked away and sighed.

“Anywho, wasn’t going to do it till after the holidays,” he added. “Give you all some time to find the next chef with the right amount of bollocks.”

From his place on the other end of the couch, Rhys turned to Zane. The space in the center of the couch was occupied by Wilhelm’s girth, so he had to lean forward to situate the other man in his line of sight.

“What?” Unable to help himself, the latter half of the word came out in a squawk. He cleared his throat. “When were you planning to tell us?”

“I’m telling you now. That night we do final holiday seating before we close for sabbatical, that will be my last huzzah.”

Troy Calypso, who’d been slouched down in one of the recliners, sneakered feet dangling over the edge of the raised footrest, looked up from the portable game device he was thumbing.

“What, you got wanderlust, old man? We should celebrate.”

“I’m not leaving yet, Calypso.”

Troy hummed, his articulated cybernetic making a dismissive gesture. The cybernetic arm was new, upgraded with the salary that had been bolstered with a promotion to line cook. Rhys had hooked him up with a prosthetic specialist and Troy had managed form there. For a man who’d relied on rudimentary prosthetics or nothing entirely most of his life, he’d adapted quickly.

“Good, cause I’m not taking up your mantle.”

“As if ye even could.”

“Guys,” Rhys’ tone dipped sharply, cutting between their banter. “Zane, let’s discuss this in private next time we get a chance.”

“We can talk about it now, since you lot are here and the floor’s quiet.”

“No, we’re here to relax and enjoy a meal as family. I’m not letting that get char-broiled to hell without a fight.”

“Sounding more like Jack everyday, boyo.”

Wilhelm grunted. It was the only sound he made, unclear if it was an agreement or just him growing annoyed by the bickering.

“Well….” Rhys began, his smile tight. “Speaking of, I should go check on what he’s doing to that poor prime rib.”

As Rhys stood up from the couch, Athena asked, “When was the wedding again?”

It took some time for Rhys to answer. He seemed to be assessing if Athena was being serious or not. Then he remembered that she didn’t seem to have any type of sense of humor.

“We haven’t even set a date with Pandora’s justice of the peace yet. It’s on the agenda. Soon as I figure out the new tasting menu and get Jack’s approval for a few things.”

“You should hurry figuring it out then.”

“Trying, chef. You know Jack.”

“Yes. I know him well.”

There was a sharp creak as Troy spilled over the side of the recliner. He came to stand next to the couch, snatching Zane’s cigar away in nimble robotic fingers.

“Me and Flynt, we’re getting hitched, too.”

The cigar sizzled as he drew on it, the lit end blazing vibrant for a few elongated seconds. He held in the smoke, straddled Zane’s lap and threw himself at the man. As he met Zane’s lips, the pushed him off, sputtering.

“The feck we are, boyo.”

But Troy opened his mouth then, and Zane’s protest died on his tongue. Instead, he succumbed to that sweet smoke between them, inhaling. The two fumbled into another kiss that was too forceful and noisy to be the simple act of shotgunning.

Rhys’ jaw worked and Athena scowled.

Shoving Troy’s elbow from his ribcage, Wilhelm said, “Knock it off.”

As if in response, Zane’s arm came around Troy’s waist, fingers slipping beneath the loose waistband of the man’s cargo pants. Troy’s growl was muffled.

“Okay, I’m going to go check on Jack now,” Rhys said, trying not to gape at the pair.

“Got to make a phone call,” Athena deadpanned.

Rolling his eyes, Wilhelm scooted over on the couch to the space Rhys had previously occupied. He found the TV remote and hit the button to unmute it.

“How’re the kids getting along?” Jack didn’t look up from where he was turning rib steaks over on the induction cooktop as Rhys entered the kitchen. “My brother show up yet?”

“Zane and Troy are about to bone on your couch right there out in the open in front of everyone.” Rhys opened the fridge, grabbed two crisp, cold bottles of IPA and held one out in offering. Jack shook his head in declination. “Tim’s a no-show so far.”

“Tell Flynt and Calypso they better clean up their mess when they’re done. Tim’ll show up eventually.”

“You sure? He said he’d be here over an hour ago.”

“I’m sure. Wilhelm’s here.”

Rhys sprung the top from the beer bottle using only his robotic grip and swigged. “Good point.” The label on the drink was considered and set down. He came up behind Jack, planting a soft kiss on to the man’s cheek. “Sorry. I forget you stopped drinking. I shouldn’t be doing it around you.”

“S’kay, Rhysie. You having a drink ain’t going to put me on a bender.”

“Still.”

His arms circling the other man, Rhys pressed himself against Jack’s back and leaned his chin into his shoulder. Over the last few months, while he followed a strict plan of abstinence, Jack had bulked up, parts of him yielding less to prodding now. In the middle, though, he had softened, likely due to his metabolism returning to a natural state. Once, Jack had mentioned offhand that he’d gained something like over fifty pounds in the last two years of not being on the good shit. Rhys was fond of the change.

“Am I interrupting something?” came a new voice. It was identical to Jack’s.

Rhys let go of his fiancée and turned around. Abandoning his steaks for a moment, Jack followed suit, nodding a greeting to his brother.

“I was just about to stuff my boyfriend full of meat,” he told Tim, keeping a straight face. “Feel free to wait in the living room until I’m done.”

[queen-scribbles]

OC Kiss ~ Food

(AJ + Kira; Wayhaven Chronicles) 

Borrowing @haledamage’s Kira to continue the Roommates AU for her and AJ bc I love it. 🥰

---

It was harder than Kira anticipated to get her keys out whilst juggling takeaway bags. But she knew if she’d kept them in hand on the walk from her car, she’d’ve dropped them, because that was her luck. And that would’ve been more of a headache than wrestling them out of her jacket pocket without spilling food.

Her persistence paid off as she reached the door and she curled a finger around the keyring to tug it free--

--only for the station key to snag just before they were safely clear of her pocket. The keys flipped out of her hand, bounced off that door, and hit the ground. Kira grumbled a string of curses as she tried to figure out how to pick them up.

“Kir? What’re you doin’?”

She turned to offer a sheepish, frustrated smile toward her friend and flatmate.  “Trying to surprise you, but the universe wasn’t havin’ it, apparently.”

AJ’s brows quirked as she retrieved Kira’s keys and used them to unlock the door rather than pull out her own. “Any particular rea- Is that from Laycotts?!”

“Yep.” Kira grinned, good mood restored at the way AJ perked up on the question. She held out one bag as they entered the flat and AJ nudged the door closed. “Chen’s working on his Mediterranean chops this week. One fresh, still-warm kleftiko just for you, and spanakopita for me.”

AJ”s eyes lit up. “Kira, you’re the best.” She emphasized the sentiment with a kiss on Kira’s cheek as she took the bag with her food. “Any particular reason?”

“Little bird mighta told me you had a rotten day at work,” Kira said. The two of them shucked coats and keys and headed for the kitchen table. “Figured you wouldn’t feel up to cooking, and who the bloody hell wants to eat leftovers after a bad day?”

“Thank you. Dunno if we even have leftover right now,” AJ said with a sheepish laugh. “We mighta eaten ‘em all, yeah?” She unpacked her food and headed to get silverware while Kira grabbed drinks.

The deeply contented groan she let out on her first bite made this well worth the money and effort. “Think this might be the best Chen’s done with this yet.”

Kira nodded and grunted an agreement around her mouthful of spanakopita.  “Definitely outdone himself.”

They lapsed into comfortable silence as they ate, and Kira watched the tension of a bad day slough off AJ’s posture. The miracle of good food, she thought glibly, glad she’d been able to do this for her friend.

“So, what do I owe for mine?” AJ asked, once they’d eaten and were moving on to cleanup.

Kira shook her head, balling up the containers inside each other for disposal.  “Not a damn thing, Red. My treat.”

AJ beamed with gratitude, giving her a one-armed hug so’s not to stab her with a dirty fork. “You really are the best.”

“Right, b’cause you never do anything nice for me,” Kira deadpanned. “Never make me tea, or help through a fucking migraine, or do the dishes singlehanded. Totally don’t deserve somethin’ I hope made the end of your rotten day better.”

“I reckon it did exactly that,” AJ said. She set her handful of silverware in the sink and grinned. “You’re a grand friend, Kira Kingston.”

“Back atcha, Abigail Jenings,” Kira muttered, face hot but grinning in triumph as she shoved the trash in the waste bin.

Mission fuckin’ accomplished.