#I need to get some like freezer meals or something

[sodacowboy]

crazy how eating gives you like energy and stuff

[moonstruckme]

hey mae! it’s been awhile since i’ve sent an ask but im always reading your work girl! i love how you write tbh. if you’re up to it do you think you could write something with poly marauders, where the reader has trouble eating and making themself eat due to poor appetite. my appetite really does come and go and ever since covid (maybe before) it’s like eating makes me feel revolted. sometimes i just don’t feel like eating bc of other things like depression, adhd, anxiety. i was just wondering if you could write something with the boys helping out the reader with finding out what sounds good, cooking, and eating if possible. sometimes having someone around to talk to and hang out with makes it so much easier to deal -🌶️

Hey Pepper, thank you sm! And thanks for being patient with me <3

cw: lack of appetite, mention of skipping meals

poly!marauders x gn!reader ♡ 1.1k words

The sun’s going down, the last dregs of its light spilling brilliant and golden over the book in your lap, and you can feel your boyfriends starting to get restless. Well, two of them. 

“If we’re missing half the ingredients,” Sirius says, trailing James into the kitchen, “it’s not going to be any good.” 

James only tsks. “Ye of little faith. That’s what improvisation is for.” He starts pulling things down from the cabinet. 

“You’re not even going to glance at the recipe?” 

“I don’t need to. I know the general vibe.” 

“Help!” Sirius calls towards the living room. “He’s gone off the rails. Remus, come fix it.” 

Remus turns around to look over the back of the sofa, his shoulder brushing yours as he does. He’s sitting right up against you despite the couch being empty, not that you mind. Remus is sort of like a cat that wants to be near you but not always to be pet. His touches are often like this, passive gestures like a hand on your head or his thigh pressed against yours. It works for you just fine; you can feel the affection bleeding into you from any point of contact. 

“Don’t you think we should just eat out?” Sirius asks, tilting his head and doing that thing with his eyes that you all pretend doesn’t work on you. 

Impressively, Remus keeps his face impassive. “I’m having leftover brussels sprouts,” he replies, “so it’s not really my concern. Anyway, James has a good history with not following recipes.” 

“Exactly,” James says, grinning at Sirius, who scowls. But then he fixes his gaze on Remus. “So why are you having that, Rem? Have what I’m making.” 

“Because they’re going to go bad, and I’m not hungry enough for a big meal.” The last part is said somewhat quieter, directed towards the living room as he turns back around and picks up his own book. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see James frown, but he glances at Sirius and they seem to collectively decide not to push it. Remus’ appetite isn’t much better than yours. He has his better days, but it’s not uncommon for him not to feel up to what your other boyfriends would consider a whole meal or to eat only chocolate until Sirius hounds him into something more substantial. 

James looks to you hopefully. “You’ll have some, won’t you sweetheart?” 

You wince, hating to let him down, and from the look on James’ face he clocks the guilt in your expression before even you get a chance to say, “I don’t think I’m really up to it tonight, either.” 

James deflates, but he’s clearly trying to put on a brave face. “That’s alright. I think I’ll just save it for another night, then.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, setting your book facedown on the armrest and turning around to face him more fully. “You could still make it and just put leftovers in the freezer. Maybe I’ll have some tomorrow.” You wince again as soon as you say it. No promises, though.

The smile James gives you is comforting if not totally satisfied. “It’s okay. I’ll just make it another time, it’s not a problem.” 

You return his smile, close-lipped. Sirius is looking at you with narrowed eyes, arms crossed like he’s sizing you up. 

“What are you going to eat?” he asks. 

“Hm?” 

“What are you going to have instead?” You hesitate, and he tilts his head knowingly, a piece of hair slipping from behind his ear to drape over his shoulder. “You need to have something, especially since you didn’t have lunch.” 

From the kitchen, James looks at you. “You didn’t?” 

“I just…don’t feel like it.” It’s a feeble argument even to your own ears, and the look Sirius gives you says that he thinks so, too. 

“You can’t miss two meals,” he says obstinately. “Even Remus is having some brussels sprouts.”

You look to Remus to be offended at the even Remus comment, but he only shrugs. You’re on your own. 

“What sounds good?” he asks you. 

You try not to pout. “Nothing. Everything sounds gross.” 

“C’mon, baby.” Sirius leans against the countertop. “It doesn’t have to be strictly dinner food, yeah? Just anything that sounds like you’d be willing to eat it.” 

You think for a minute. Remus touches the back of his hand to your leg, knuckles soothing over the skin beside your knee. 

“I guess…ice cream sounds okay,” you say hesitantly. “But I know that’s not exactly nutritious…” 

“Would a milkshake be close enough?” James pipes up. 

You shrug. “I guess.” 

He grins. “I can do that for you, lovie. Just gimme a sec.” 

James is a loud cook. You go back to your book while cabinet doors slam and the blender whirs and there's a muffled “oh, shit” as something is undoubtedly dropped on the floor, but a minute later he’s bringing you a glass of something thick and chocolate-y looking. You smile at the added garnish of mint and a straw, reaching for it. 

“Thanks, Jamie.” 

He winks. “Anytime.” 

Remus is the only one courteous enough not to obviously watch while you take a sip, and you feel your eyebrows raise as you look up at James. 

“This is really good,” you say. He practically glows at the praise. “I didn’t even know we had chocolate ice cream.” 

Sirius barks a laugh, and James’ smile widens. 

“What?” you ask. 

“We don’t,” he admits. “Will it ruin your appetite if I tell you it’s not actually ice cream?” 

You shake your head, sucking at the straw. “I’m already drinking it, so.” 

James beams. He really is looking very proud of himself. “It’s a protein shake. A pretty balanced meal, actually.” 

“Oh, nice.” You grin at him, taking another hearty slurp mostly because you know it’ll please him. “It’s perfect, thank you.” 

“Gotta keep our sweetheart fed,” he says, bending down for a kiss. Sirius and Remus’ hums of approval nearly harmonize, and you and James share an elated look while they both do their best to pretend like it didn’t happen. 

“Can I try?” Remus asks, and you tilt the cup towards him in invitation. 

He wraps his lips around your straw, sipping hesitantly. He looks mildly impressed. 

“Could you make me one of those too?” 

From the look on James’ face, he’d be delighted to. “Course, love.” He plants a smacker on Remus’ cheek and nearly knocks Sirius over as he beelines for the kitchen. 

“This is just excellent,” Sirius gripes, but you see the satisfaction in his expression. “Now that you two have blown up his ego, I’ll have to eat something he makes too.” 

“Correct,” James says brightly. “And you should be so lucky.” 

[texas-gothic]

Dracula Daily Prep: Gather Your Paprikash!

It's that time of year again. Even as we speak, Jonathan Harker has departed for Transylvania, and the unhallowed halls of Castle Dracula. And as he makes his way towards that foreboding country, he will encounter a singular, most enticing of dishes: Paprika Hendl, or as we might know it better, Chicken Paprikash!

This traditional Central European dish explodes in popularity each May as we all gather around our virtual mess hall to enjoy the spirit of this most influential of gothic novels. Perhaps you yourself are considering throwing together a pot this year? Well, if you are, let this be your guide.

So, first, let's discuss the most important of the ingredients here: authentic hungarian paprika. Now, the recipe I first used last year called only for Sweet Paprika, but I personally found that version to be a little bland. I'm remedying this by adding some Hot Paprika as well. However, this is just my personal experimentation. Hungarian Hot Paprika can in fact be very hot, so if you're not comfortable with anything too spicy, feel free to opt only for the Sweet Paprika.

(Both of these I had to order online.)

Next, is another very important addition. As youre gathering your basic cornerstones of cooking (namely yellow onion, roma tomato, and garlic for this recipe) you may find yourself passing up on something that could vastly improve your dish. I'm talking, of course, about Hungarian Wax Peppers. These peppers range in heat, from meak and mild to slightly hotter than you'd average jalapeño. As per instruction, you should only use one. But on my end, I found the single pepper to be a little underwhelming, and I had trouble picking out it's flavor. So, this year, I'll be using two of them.

I got these from Central Market, an upmarket gorcer on Westheimer. They're a cousin of HEB, and you can find one or two in every major city in Texas. If you're elsewhere, try an alternative like Whole Foods, or try to find a European or International food market in your area.

Next, let's talk chicken. You can't have Chicken Paprkiash without the chicken, after all.

You're going to want to go with dark meat cuts for this. Traditionally the dish would use a mix of legs and thighs. Personally, I suggest using only the thighs, which you'll want to get bone-in and skin-on. The thigh provides a flater surface for browning than the leg, as well as more meat.

(A note on food safety, raw chicken will usually only last 2-3 days in the fridge. So you'll want to grab that fairly close to the day you're actually cooking this. If not, you can do what I'll be doing, and sticking it in the freezer until about 24 hours before I start cooking.)

So, as you gather your meat, produce, and spice you're probably asking yourself, "what on Earth am I going to be eating this with?" And the answer to that is spaetzle! A popular dumpling present in lots of Central European cooking, this is exactly what you need to tie this all together.

Now, while you should be able to find some in the international isle of most major grocers, you might also have to visit an international food store, or perhaps something more upmarket. If none of these options work, then there are a variety of other side dishes that work just as well. Egg noodles are a very popular choice, and in my very American attempt last year, I found that mashed potatoes work especially well.

Now that you've got all these things together, you're very nearly done. All that's left is the thickener. Paprikash is thickened using a blend of flour, heavy whipping cream, and sour cream. We'll get onto preparing this mixture in my post on actually cooking the paprikash, but until then, acquiring them should be a cake walk at any place food items are sold.

Now that will conclude the actual grocery list for just the Paprikash itself, but I do have one more pointer on how to really liven up this meal. Now, if you're under 21 or if perhaps you take after our dear, depraved, beloathed Count

Then you can skip this next bit. As a wine professional myself, I find that a well paired glass can add a tremendous flare to nearly any already great dinner. In the case of something like Chicken Paprkiash, and keeping with the Central European theme, I could hardly think of a better match than a good German Pinot Noir, also known as a Spatburgunder. Pinot from Germany typically has a very light body and a refreshing acidity that plays very well with the rich and creamy sauce of Chicken Paprikash. The palate of earth and red fruit should always pair nicely with the smoke of the paprika, as well as being a general good partner for any chicken. I myself am going with this 2020 Rheingau from August Kesseler.

And with that, we are done! Hit those checkout isles and make sure to get home before dark. Terrible things have sway over the world once the sun has gone down. So if the crowd does keep you locked up until nightfall, make sure to graciously accept any crucifixes given to you by kindly, elderly grandmothers and inn keepers. But whatever you do, make sure to pop in on Friday, when I'll be sharing a step by step guide on taking these ingredients and turning them into a dinner that will make our good friend Jonathan go red as a fire truck!

Happy Dracula Week everybody!

[pedrasacorn]

after that little blurb about jason still caring about reader even after breaking up with her for her own safety i now desperately need an angsty but also a comfort fic where they break up, reader is comfused and sad, jason is even sadder and maybe evn regrets his decision and then something important happens to reader and jason realizes what a mistake it was to push her away and apologises and its all good again! … lol sorry if this is too long i just liked your idea a lot :)

Jason breaks up to protect you

A/n: thank you for requesting :3 it’s so exciting and getting to challenge myself was fun!

Warnings: Blood, injury, brief description of depression, not proof read

5:30pm

Far above the city Jason watches you.

The rain and smog almost conceal his view as you exit your apartment.

But he knows your habits, the way you walk.

It’s only easy to get through your window because he’s the one who goon proofed it.

Your room is clean, as if untouched. Except the bed.

He takes stock of your fridge. Rotting vegetables he tosses, along with the moldy bread and…whatever the hell that was.

His heartache is good. And earned. Deserved even.

All it took was for one rogue to mention your existence, and that was it. Didn’t have a name; just a vague idea of your existence.

He clung to the feeling of panic lacing his veins, keeping it vivid in his mind. He used it to replace the urge to hold you, to wipe your tears, and reassure you. He knew better than to have been in your life.

He uses fresh milk to replace your…chunky one.

“I did not raise you this way…” He mutters; humorously.

As he broke up, he managed to look at your face, he imagined what it would look like dead, and bloody.

It didn’t help. Because you weren’t dead, but you looked something akin to it.

Eggs, and cheese. You don’t like eggs. He knows this.

More bread even if it goes bad again. And snacks. Easy freezer meals.

He shouldn’t, but he stays. He stays hidden in the dark where he belongs, needing to know you make it home okay.

6:31pm

Everything is a fog of grey.

The half eaten sandwich you had at work tasted like nothing.

You couldn’t even cry because—what was the point? You didn’t even really feel anything.

That nothingness multiplies when you get into your apartment. Locking everything up the way Jason taught you.

Although the stab wound, and blood dripping down your side doesn’t feel like nothing.

Sweat beeds down your face, collecting in the neck of your sweater. You just have to get to the kit Jason gave you; the medical bills were not worth it right now.

Your eyes meet his.

Your heart nearly falls out of your chest, releif flooding your veins.

“Jay I’m hurt.” Your voice breaks as tears warp your vision, softening out the world.

6:34

You, are still the most beautiful thing, he has ever beheld.

What was he doing? He had only meant to bring you food. Knowing your tendency to neglect yourself when you were heartsick.

It wasn’t your fault; he’d never blame you. Just wanted to know you weren’t going to fade out of existence the way he faded out of your life.

He runs to you, immediately ripping off your sweater, pressing his hand into your side.

“I’m not going anywhere sweets. M’right here.” He murmurs against your ear, “Who did this?”

“Some stupid—son of a bitch in an alley.” You rasp as he lies you down.

“Yeah? What son’uva bitch? You tell me. Now.”

His accent was so thick when he got upset; like when you forgot to eat, or drink water instead of caffeine.

He’s stunning.

“Hi…” you rasp.

“…hi surga’…” He soothes your cheek.

8:40pm

When you come to you’re alone in your bed.

A sob breaks through the quiet.

So light on his feet, you don’t hear him until he’s halfway into your room.

“Shhh baby it’s okay…hey, hey I’m right here.” He cups your tear streaked face.

You whimper. “You left.”

“I know but I’m not ever going to leave again okay? Yeah?” He tilts your face upward.

“You…you just think you know all the things.” You sniffle.

He can’t help his fond smile; he doesn’t mention how your words make little sense.

“Yeah?” He croons.

You nod.

“You just do things. All the time and it’s…just so you.”

Your glare holds little heat.

Even if it did, any heat from you is warmth to him.

His emotions are bared to you, he’s filled with guilt. Staying wasn’t rational, but he needed you.

He smooths your cheek with his thumb.

“Can you find some forgiveness in that pretty heart of yours?” He murmurs.

He knows he doesn’t deserve it, but it’s the best he can do to ask without begging.

“…I just missed you…the most.” You say, a bit delirious.

“Yeah I missed you too…” He kisses your forehead.

“Is that how you kiss the love of your life?” You glare.

There’s his sweetheart.

“Well you didn’t give me permission now didya?” He smirks.

You meet each other half way, his lips caressing yours.

[aesethewitch]

Learning to Cook Like a Witch: Using the Scraps

Cooking can create a lot of waste. From peels and rinds to bones and leaves, people throw away quite a lot of scraps in the kitchen. And witches, as you may know, are experts in the art of the cunning use of whatever we’ve got around.

As a witch who spends a lot of time in the kitchen, I’ve had ample opportunities to get creative in my cooking craft. It helps that I grew up in a household defined by scarcity: not our own, by the time I was conscious enough to remember, but my parents’ poverty. It colored the way I learned to cook, using everything I possibly could, making enough to last, preserving what I didn’t immediately use, and creatively reusing leftovers and scraps.

There are some topics I won’t necessarily cover here. Composting is an option, but there are some bits of food scrap that don’t need to be composted — they can be saved and repurposed for all sorts of things, magic and mundane. Likewise, recycling, buying sustainably, and growing your own food when you can are all great options for reducing household waste in the kitchen.

For the purposes of this post, I want to focus specifically on food scraps. This is an organized list of kitchen scraps that I’ve used in a variety of other dishes and projects. I’m focusing primarily on food waste, not so much on packaging (such as reusing egg cartons, milk containers, boxes, and so forth).

Vegetable Scraps

Freeze leftover vegetable scraps to make stock. This is a fairly common bit of advice — save bits of leftover vegetables to make a vegetable stock or another kind of stock. It’s good advice! I keep a bag in my freezer that I put vegetable scraps in to save until I’m ready to make a new batch of stock. Not all veggies should be saved like this and used for stock! Some make stock bitter or otherwise unpleasant-tasting. Personally, I tend to freeze these for stock:

- The skins, ends, and leftover cuts of onions (just be wary of the skins; too much will make your broth bitter) - The ends of celery (not the leaves — they’re bitter!) - Corn cobs - Garlic skins, ends, tiny cloves that aren’t useful otherwise, and sprouted cloves - The ends of carrots (also not the leaves) - The ends of leeks - Pepper tops/bottoms (not the seeds)

I would recommend against putting things like potatoes, brussels sprouts, cabbage, and leafy greens in there. Potatoes don’t add flavor, sprouts and cabbage make the whole thing taste like those foods, and leafy greens end up bitter. If something has a strong, distinctive flavor (beets, sprouts), I wouldn’t add it to my freezer bag. These scraps often form the veggie portion of my Sick-Be-Gone Chicken Broth spell recipe!

Regrow leeks, green onions, and celery. Pop these in a bit of water and watch them grow back! It’s a fun experiment, and you’ll never have to buy them again.

Plant sprouted garlic. Aside from the fact that you can still cook and eat garlic that’s sprouted, you can plant a sprouted clove in a pot. Care for it well enough, and you’ll end up with a full head of garlic from that one clove!

Fry potato peels. Anytime I make mashed potatoes or peel potatoes for something, I always save the peels. Give them a thorough rinse and shallow-fry them in oil, turning them over until they’re golden and crispy. Toss them in a bit of salt and pepper while they’re still hot, and you’ve got tasty chips to snack on while you cook the rest of your meal! No need to cover them in more oil or anything — the heat will cause the salt to stick right to them.

Save leaves for pesto. Yum, yum, yum. Pesto isn’t just all about basil, you know. Save the leaves from carrots, beets, radishes, and even celery to grind up alongside basil, garlic, salt, and lemon juice for a delicious pesto recipe.

Fruit Scraps

Save citrus peels. Peels from oranges, lemons, grapefruits, and other citrus fruits have a multitude of uses. Candy them for a sweet treat, dry them to add to potpourri or incense, or save them to put into a simmer pot for bright, sunny energy.

Juice the whole fruit. Again, thinking mostly about citrus fruits, when you need the zest from something but not the rest, don’t just throw away the fruit. Squeeze out all the juice you can. Even if you don’t need it right now, you can freeze it to use later in simmer pots, fruity waters, or anything else that needs a touch of juice.

Turn extra fruit and berries into jam or syrup. If you’ve got berries and fruit that are about to go off, or maybe the ends of strawberries, don’t toss them! Look up recipes for jam of the specific fruit you’ve got or make an infused syrup. Syrups in particular can be used for cocktails, teas, and desserts for an extra magical kick.

Pickle watermelon rinds. That’s right. Pickle those suckers. They’re so tasty. I’ve seen people make kimchi with watermelon rinds, too, though I’ve never tried it myself!

Save seeds for abundance work. Seeds in general are great for spells geared toward long-term success, new beginnings, and — when there are a lot of them — wealth. Different fruit seeds have properties that tend to correspond with the fruit they come from, so consider their potential purposes before you just toss them! (Note also that some fruit seeds are toxic; these would be suitable for baneful workings.)

Keep cherry stems for love magic. Have you ever done that thing where you tie a cherry stem with your tongue? If I’m eating cherries, I like to save some of the stems for love workings. Tie them into little knots like you might with string while envisioning ensnaring the love you’re looking for. I wouldn’t do this with a particular person in mind; binding someone to you is almost never a good idea. I’ve used it to attract specific qualities in a person of romantic interest: attentiveness, humor, kindness, and so forth.

Use pits to represent blockages, barriers, and problems. I most often use them in baneful workings, typically jammed into a poppet’s mouth or throat to keep someone from talking shit. It could also represent a sense of dread in that way — a pit in the stomach, uneasy and nauseating. But you could also use them in the sense of removal, ritualistically removing the pit or problem from a given situation.

Herb Scraps

Freeze or dry extra fresh herbs. Different drying techniques are ideal for specific herbs. I’d suggest looking up recommended methods before sticking anything in the microwave. If you’d like to freeze your herbs instead, I typically will lay them on a damp paper towel, wrap them up, place them into a freezer-safe bag, and then put them in the freezer. Most herbs will keep for a couple months this way. When you want to use them, pull them out and let them defrost right on the counter.

Make pesto. Again, pesto isn’t just basil! Experiment with tossing in different scraps of herbs to find out what combination you like best.

Reuse steeped tea. Particularly when I use loose herbal tea, I like to lay out the used tea to dry out. It can be burned similarly to loose incense, though the scent may be somewhat weaker than with herbs that are fresher or unused. I find that it’s fine, since I’m sensitive to smells anyways.

Toss extra herbs into your stock freezer bag. Just like with vegetables, extra herbs make welcome additions to a scrap stock pot. I always make a point to save sage, thyme, marjoram, and ginger. You can add just about anything to a stock pot, but be aware of the flavors you’re adding. Not all herbs will match with all dishes.

Protein Scraps

Dry and crush empty egg shells. This is one most witches will know! I use crushed egg shells for protection magic most often: sprinkled at a doorstep mixed with other herbs, added to jars, and spread around spell candles.

Save shrimp, crab, and lobster shells. They’re a goldmine of flavor. Toss them into water with veggies and herbs, and you’ve got a delicious, easy shellfish stock. Use it to make fishy soups and chowders that much richer.

Don’t discard roasted chicken remains. Use them for stock, just like the shells. I like to get rotisserie chickens on occasion since they’re ready-made and very tasty. Once all the meat has been stripped off the bones, simmer the entire carcass with — you guessed it — veggies and herbs for a tasty chicken stock.

Reuse bacon grease for frying. After cooking bacon, don’t throw away the grease right away. Melt it over low heat, strain the bits of bacon out, and pour it into a jar to put in the fridge. You can use it to fry all sorts of things, but my favorite thing is brussels sprouts. They pick up the delicious, salty, bacony flavor from all that rendered bacon fat. So good.

Other Scraps

Use stale bread for croutons or bread crumbs. When I reach the stale end of a loaf of bread, as long as it isn’t moldy, I like to tear it into pieces and toss it into the oven for a little while. Let it cool and then pulse it in a food processor, and I’ve got delicious bread crumbs! Or, cut it a little more neatly, toss it in oil and seasonings, and then bake, and now I’ve got homemade croutons for salads. You can really hone your herbs for both of these, tuning them to be perfect for whatever spell needs you have.

Small amounts of leftover sugar. I don’t know why, but I always end up with a tiny amount of white and brown sugar in the containers. This can be used in teas, of course, but I like to offer it up to spirits. In particular, my ancestors tend to appreciate a spoonful of brown sugar stirred into a small, warmed cup of milk. You can also look up mug cake or single-serving cookie recipes; often, they’re cooked in the microwave, and they only need a little sugar to make!

Keep vanilla bean pods. Vanilla is fucking expensive. When I have a little extra and want to really splurge for a special occasion, I’ll get a couple pods. And because they’re so expensive, I hate wasting any part of them. They’re good for love magic, sure, but you can also toss the spent pods in a jar full of sugar to make vanilla-infused sugar. I’ll often use the pods to make infused milks, too; warm the milk over low heat, add the pods, and let it steep like tea. It goes great in teas and desserts. For a nice self-love spell, sometimes I’ll melt chocolate into the vanilla milk and make hot cocoa!

Save the rinds from Parmesan and Pecorino Romano cheese. You might not be able to just bite into these, but they’re fabulous additions to a stock pot. They add a rich, umami depth to the flavors. I also like to throw these into pots of tomato sauce to add even more flavor to the sauce.

Used coffee is still coffee. After I make a pot of coffee, I’ll sometimes save the grounds by letting them dry back out. I wouldn’t make another cup of coffee with them, since all the flavor’s gone, but they’ll still have attributes of energy generation and smell great. I like to pack used grounds into sachets to hang in places where I want to encourage more energy and focus, replaced every few days or so. Coffee grounds also have high amounts of nitrogen in them, which can help plants thrive; just be careful about pH values in the soil! You don’t want to hurt your plants with too much acidity.

Final Thoughts

I hope you found these tips helpful! There are a ton more ways to save and reuse kitchen scraps that would otherwise go to waste. Sometimes, tossing stuff into the compost or trash can’t be avoided. But I’ve found that being aware of the possibilities can help diminish the amount that gets wasted.

If you have questions or other suggestions for reusing kitchen scraps, feel free to drop them in my inbox, reblogs, or replies. And if you did enjoy this post, consider tossing a couple dollars in my tip jar! Supporters get early and sometimes exclusive access to my work, and monthly members get bonuses like commission discounts and extras. (:

[whirlybirbs]

— BURNER CELL ; 2 ; DABI ; 荼毗

summary: after a week of silence, you finally text dabi. pairing: dabi / f!reader ; quirkless word count: 1.3k tag: humor, maladjusted dabi meets normal adult woman, flirting, canon-based world building, cancer mention, texting as a plot device, slight au, univeristy student!reader a/n: this stole all my concentration. siri play emo boy by ayesha erotica ← previous | the tag

It's the kind of week where, aside from class, human interaction isn't really on life's setlist. 

It's also the kind of week where you rediscover making a meal of raw cookie dough straight from the package. Your econ textbook might have a stranglehold on you, but you make enough time to scarf down a few globs between chapters — after all, who needs protein or fiber when you're sure this five-year master's program will kill you first?

Your head hurts.

You slump against the counter, refilling your water bottle. 

It's late now — and you can feel the quiet woes beginning to wane as you blink at the clock. By now, your friends are probably on their second or third drinks. You turned the invite down when they asked yesterday. Nuri tugged on your sweater sleeve and pouted the best pout she could manage, but you didn't budge. 

I've gotta finish this paper, I'm sorry, Nur'. 

You roll your jaw as you shut the faucet off, wandering to your freezer to wrangle some cubes from the tray. You bend it slowly, deep in thought. A few pop out, and you idly drop them into your water bottle with a twang. 

You're staring at your phone. It's by your computer on the counter. 

...You never did text Dabi. 

You told yourself it was for the best — after all, you weren't looking for a catastrophic derailment of your life at the moment. Things are good. You're two semesters away from finishing University, your family's bakery back in Kyoto is doing well, and Dad's chemotherapy seems to be working. Things are good! It's almost fall, you've managed to stick to your monthly budget, and Mizu settled in happily to your new apartment. 

No four-day poop strike like the last time you moved.

The large tuxedo cat in question ambles through the kitchen — brushing against your leg and letting out a long, low mrrooow. 

Things are great! 

You shouldn't text Dabi.

But... even if you did, it's not like it'd be the end of the world, right?

Wait, could he figure out where you lived from your number...?

You could use one of those anonymous texting services. Then, it wouldn't even be your number. Just some fake string of digits that allow you to satiate the bizarre curiosity that's been swirling in your head for the last week. 

You're sure the novelty will wear off. 

He's probably not even going to respond. 

You're telling yourself this is stupid as you begin to set up an account with the service — the app boasts privacy, andunlimited calls and texts... You can't help but feel a little strange as you finalize your account. 

It's done.

You import his contact with two taps and stare at the blank screen. 

...Now what?

Are you really going to do this? I mean — he's a wanted criminal. He's a member of the League of Villains. If anyone ever found out you were in contact with him, you'd be toast. You'd have All Might kicking your door in and demanding to look through your phone and that mental image is enough to make you cringe. Say goodbye to your degree, goodbye toyour future as Sakura Flour's owner, and goodbye to freedom. You're sure the Safety Commission would place you on some watch list for the rest of your life, and frankly, your tweets are already questionable. You don't need more scrutiny. 

...So, there are two options. 

Delete his number and move on... or don't get caught. 

You shouldn't text Dabi.

...But, you do.

Truth be told, he isn't shocked to see that cute Nuri girl hanging on Giran's arm again. The Broker seems pretty into her — the guy even mentioned something about taking her to a nice dinner during the week as a congrats on passing some big test. Dabi can't blame him. She's cute. Looks good in red. Not his type, but he can appreciate it from time to time.

However, Dabi is a little shocked that you're not a part of the group cheering in Giran's VIP section. There's bottle service being ordered, laughter, dancing, and a gaggle of pretty, five college girls — and none of them are you. 

His lips twist into a scowl. 

He decides he's leaving; his piss-poor drink is tossed back, and he dumps a bill down for the bartender before tugging his hood up and sucking his teeth. 

He never liked this club anyway.

He's crossing the threshold of the back door, stepping into the damp and dark alley, when the phone in his back pocket buzzes. Someone's smoking a Marlboro by the dumpster. The familiar smell makes Dabi's fingers twitch. 

He's tryna quit.

He tugs the phone from his pocket, no longer bothered by the splintered glass screen. His battery is at 13%. This fuckin' thing barely holds a charge anymore. 

The number on the screen isn't one he knows.

Dabi's passcode is unnecessarily long. His phone clicks open as he narrows his eyes and shambles towards the opening in the alley. He doesn't know this number. He has everyone's cell memorized that he needs. Shigaraki, Toga, Spinner, Jin, Compress, even Giran. He doesn't keep contacts. Doesn't work when he's ditching phones all the time. He's got his noggin. That's good enough.

The text is one word:

hi.

Dabi's squinting at the text when another buzzes through. 

← 909.999.3399 ;  11:48pm sorry, this is bar girl

→ dabi ; 11:46pm thought u were never gonna txt me ur girlie nuri is here where r u

There's no way.

Your phone buzzes three times from its far place where it sits face down on the counter — you just walked away from it, hellbent on distracting yourself while you waited out the potential reply. You go rigid in your kitchen. 

Did he seriously text you back immediately?

You purse your lips, then slink towards the phone. It buzzes again.

→ dabi ; 11:47pm c'mon don't leave me hangin pretty

Your eyes are wide as you stare at the string of replies. He has read receipts turned on like the psychopath he is. 

You lean back against the counter, chewing your cuticle as you let out a ragged sigh. Nuri is with him? Or... No, they said they were going to that club you hate. 

← 909.999.3399 ;  11:4pam oh, are they at the bar?‎

Dabi's fingers move fast.

→ dabi ; 11:49pm nah in downtown club tropical or whatever the fuck it's called

You snort a little.

← 909.999.3399 ;  11:49pm i hate that place. their drinks suck.

Dabi has started making his way back to their hideout — back to the shit box apartments they're renting above Kurogiri's bar. He's slow, idly texting as he weaves through the crowds of nightlife in Kamino Ward. 

→ dabi ; 11:50pm a girl after my own heart where r u ur dodging my question u on a date or smthng????

He's insistent, you'll give him that. You cross your legs as you lean back against the laminate counter and chew the inside of your lip.

He's typing. It starts, then stops, then starts again. 

When you start typing, the bubble disappears. 

← 909.999.3399 ;  11:50pm nah, got a huge paper to finish uni student, remember? sorry to disappoint 

→ dabi ; 11:51pm ur missin out giran got bottle service  him and nuri looked cozy

← 909.999.3399 ;  11:51pm not shocked she thinks she can fix him

→ dabi ; 11:51pm ooooo love when that happens poor girl

Typing... 

Typing...

→ dabi ; 11:51pm u think u can fix me? :p

The emoji makes your face break into a smile — it's so... not what you expected. 

← 909.999.3399 ;  11:52pm nah i'm not stupid

→ dabi ; 11:52pm just busy.... really lame of u tbh coulda been fun

← 909.999.3399 ;  11:52pm wasting cash on mid drinks is the opposite of fun

→ dabi ; 11:52pm i meant seeing me

Oh, what the fuck.

Why does that text make your face feel hot? Why does that text make you feel like you're not texting the League of Villain's #1 Arsonist, but some cute boy from class? He's not a cute boy from class. He's a danger to society. 

You're glad you don't have the opportunity to reply. Your phone is buzzing in your hands, the haptic feedback lighting the neurons in your brain on fire.  

→ dabi ; 11:53pm gtg phone is gonna die have fun with ur paper u loser hope u get a good grade or whatever i'll txt u later

You shouldn't have texted Dabi.

But you did. 

[gorefreaklintjrwi]

Honey, do you need a hot meal?

Troy is hungry. Lint is the meal.

trigger warnings for cannibalism and gore

hey guys..... i wrote this little thing in one day..... btw.... llintroller save meee... title is from Your body, My Temple by Will Wood

Troy and Lint are standing in In the middle of the living room. Lint has just told her that he wanted him to eat them. Not even that he could, but that he wanted her to.

And Troy can't deny, the idea is appealing. She thought maybe this was just some sick joke, Lint can be a little strange at times, but no. Lint is entirely serious. And Troy wants to eat.

Lint must be a genius, Troy thinks to herself. She doesn’t know what he wants to say in this moment, but she knows more than anything what he wants to do. What he needs to do.

“Dude, are you sure? Cause like, you could die, man…” Troy’s desire doesn’t mean he won’t hesitate. This is his best friend, after all.

“Your dad turns people into clocks, doesn’t he?”

She lunges towards them, straight for his cheek. He bites down and tears a bit of flesh away, and it’s even better than she could have imagined. She can’t even describe it. It’s just the kind of taste that you savor for as long as you can, especially when it’s someone as important to you as Lint is to Troy.

Troy sees Lint’s face before going in for another bite, this time the flesh of their neck. He looks shocked, maybe he expected her to say something before going in for a taste, but that doesn’t stop a small grin from appearing on their face.

And Troy just continues to tear away from Lint, bit by bit, piece by piece. He feels like an animal, but can she really help it? This is Lint. This is her best friend and he tastes so good.

This might just be the best thing he’s ever tasted. Lint isn’t just good, he’s perfect. The blood in Troy’s mouth is warm and the metallic taste makes him want more. He can’t stop, and surely Lint won’t survive much more of this. Troy knows that.

And yet, his tongue begs for more of that wonderful flavor. He can’t stop.

She loves Lint. In this moment, right now, she loves Lint more than ever before. Maybe it’s because Lint is all there is right now, or maybe he just likes the way they taste as she rips chunks of flesh away from their body. Either way, he loves Lint so very much. And they say actions speak louder than words, don’t they?

She barely even gives herself time to chew, he just keeps on taking more and more, relishing in it. The texture, the flavor, it’s all perfect to Troy. There isn’t a world where Lint isn’t perfect. Not in Troy’s eyes.

Tears fall down Lint’s face, he feels his life fading away from them, but this is Troy and this is all they’d ever dreamed of. They can’t think of a better way to go out. He wonders if Troy even notices that they’re dying, or if she’s too busy tearing him apart.

Eventually, Troy finishes his meal, but Lint is long gone by then. She doesn’t know when it happened. It’s hard for her to think about anything else, part of him wants more, but he knows it’s time to put them away. Maybe next time she’ll try a bit of cooking.

Should Troy feel bad? He just ate her best friend, after all. But no, Troy doesn’t feel anything but love for them. The consequences of her actions haven’t hit him yet, so why should it matter?

Lint, what’s left of them, barely fits in the freezer. Troy needs to go out and buy a bigger one. And some ice. She figures she should clean up first, though. He washes the blood from her hair and skin, gets a different outfit, wonders if the stains will ever leave that shirt, and he’d be on his way if he didn’t hear a quiet voice behind her. It has that bug-like quality to it, like someone Troy knows; knew. Lint.

“Did I taste good?”

--

ERM!!! END NOTES I GUESS??????

i have never ever written anything like this and MAN it was fun.

lint is a freaking ghost now by the way because i have so many Thoughts about ghost lint and clockwork lint......... may write more in the future too. just like about ghost lint/clockwork lint sometimes and troy shenanigans

i hope you had fun reading this. hope it was a hit for the lintroller nation

[youaintnothinbuta]

Hi, darlin’! May I request a fluffy Elvis fic if your requests are still open. Like a midnight snack craving thing? Where Elvis finds the reader in the kitchen or something? ☺️💓

“I can’t have you goin' back to bed unsatisfied.” — elvis presley x reader

Summary: you can’t sleep- you’re too hungry. Finally you decide to go find something to snack on, accidentally waking Elvis in the process. He finds you downstairs and you both decide to have a little midnight meal together

Pairing: Elvis Presley or Austin!Elvis x fem!reader

Word count: 897

Warnings: none! Teeth rottingly sweet fluff. Hopefully not any typos eee

A/N: thank you so much for this request, i really wanted to get back into writing for Elvis, it’s like you read my mind, I hope this is okay <33

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Each clock in the house would’ve read just past 2:30 AM, but there you were, wide awake. Your body had decided it needed something sweet, and no amount of tossing and turning was going to change that.

Barefoot, you quietly padded down the stairs, the soft creak of the wooden steps beneath the carpet breaking the silence. Reaching the kitchen, you opened the fridge, the cold air hitting your face as you peered inside, hoping something would jump out at you. But nothing did. A bottle of milk, some leftover dinner from earlier, a few eggs.

Next stop, the pantry. You opened the door, scanning the shelves. It was far from empty, crackers, chips, cookies, etc, yet still nothing that tickled your fancy. You moved some cans aside, your hands rummaging through the shelves, hoping to uncover something forgotten in the back.

Just then, you heard the soft padding of footsteps coming down the stairs, followed by the flick of a light switch, illuminating you, standing there with a handful of chocolate chips, looking guilty as ever. Elvis stood in the doorway, his hair slightly mussed from sleep, his eyes half-closed.

His low, sleepy voice asked, “Honey, what're you doin'?”

“I was tryin' not to wake you,” you said, giving him a sheepish smile. “But I just couldn't sleep. I’m hungry.”

Elvis chuckled, the sound deep and warm, and he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Well, let's see what we can find.”

He walked over to you, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back as he leaned over to look into the pantry. His presence was comforting, and you felt a little silly for dragging him out of bed, even if it was accidental.

“I wanted some ice cream,” you suggested, biting your lip as you searched the freezer, “but I don't see any.”

“Hmm,” Elvis mused, reaching up to grab a box of cookies. “What about these? Or maybe we could make somethin'?”

You sighed, not entirely satisfied with the options. “Make something?”

Elvis grinned. “Pancakes?”

"Pancakes, huh?" You considered it, the thought of warm, fluffy pancakes topped with syrup and maybe some whipped cream making your mouth water. “Don’t you want to go back to sleep?”

“We can sleep in,” Elvis assured you, already moving to gather the ingredients. “Bring some ‘a your chocolate chips out here.”

You watched as he moved around the kitchen, his sleepiness fading away as he got into the idea. He pulled out a mixing bowl and started cracking eggs, his movements quick.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” you teased, watching him toss the egg shells in the rubbish.

“Well, you got me up,” he shot back with a playful grin, “might as well make it worth it. 'Sides, I can’t have you goin' back to bed unsatisfied.”

You couldn't help but giggle at him, a faint blush creeping up your cheeks. “Well aren’t you sweet.”

Elvis smiled. “It's my job, darlin'. Now, get over here and help me.”

You joined him at the counter, measuring out some flour. The familiar routine of it was comforting, and soon enough, the kitchen was filled with the scent of batter sizzling on the stove.

Elvis eyed you sneaking another handful of chocolate, telling you about the dream he'd been having before you woke him up, something about being on stage in front of a crowd that wouldn't stop clapping no matter what. You laughed, imagining him trying to bargain with an audience that was too happy to let him perform.

“Sounds like a good problem to have,” you teased, flipping a pancake as it turned golden brown.

“Maybe,” he said, leaning against the counter, his eyes soft as he watched you, standing there in your pj set, slowly adding to the growing stack of pancakes.

Finished cooking, you sat down together, a pile of pancakes between you and some syrup to go with it. Your tummy growled audibly, earning quite the chuckle from Elvis. Pouring a generous amount of syrup over your pancakes, you dug in, smiling with how pleased you were. The house was quiet except for the occasional clink of your forks against the plates, and the pancakes were warm and filling, exactly what you needed.

”I think I might've outdone myself,” he says between bites.

You leaned forward to take another bite, nodding in agreement. Once he was done, Elvis leaned back in his chair, a satisfied look on his face.

“Well, darlin', how are you feeling now?” he asked, his eyes twinkling in the dim light.

You smiled, feeling full. “Much better. Thanks for getting up with me.”

Elvis reached across the table, taking your hand in his. “Anytime, sweetheart.“

You stood up, attempting to clear the table and wash up. Elvis gently pressed his hand against your chest, sitting you back down.

“Tomorrow’s problem,” he said, his eyebrow raised slightly.

Sighing, you complied, “okay.”

“Come on,” he said, his voice a gentle murmur. “Let's get back to bed.”

You nodded, “Yeah, let's.”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, guiding you back upstairs and into your bedroom. Slipping back under the covers, Elvis pulled you close, his warmth enveloping you as you snuggled into his chest.

“Sweet dreams, honey,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Sweet dreams, Elvis,” you murmured back, your eyes already drifting closed.

[darlingcameron]

New idea: Rafe is friends with an autistic reader(female I apologize) mentions of good aversion, sensitivity to noise, swimming, masking.

"Is the food okay, dear?" Rose places a hand on your shoulder which you try to contain your uneasiness but you were a little weary of her and physical contact was something you were still getting use to so you tried your best to mask it.

You offer a smile and nod, "Oh yes, Mrs. Cameron it all looks so good I'm just-"

"She's autistic, Rose...I'll just bake her something else." Rafe speaks up, placing his napkin down and gets up from his seat and you felt heat rise to your cheeks as you didn't want Rose to feel offended or make anything awkward, "No! Rafe I-i can try it- look!" You almost clumsily pick up your fork, circling the spaghetti around your fork but then looks at it for a moment, the sauce seeming almost offensive towards you and you shake your head. "Yeah, no nevermind..I'm so sorry...I know you put so much effort into this I just-" you rambled on as your people pleaser tentacles start to kick in and you look around fanatically between Rose and the plate in front of you.

"Y/N for the love of God, shut up-its fine just come with me and I'll see what I can make for you- let's go." He snaps his fingers towards the door that leads inside and you sheepishly smile at Rose before rising out of your seat and walk inside.

Rafe follows, sliding the glass door closed and goes over to the freezer. "What would it be? Chicken nuggets and fries again?" He looks over at you, holding the handle to the freezer and you shrug, "I don't know kind of getting bored of that being a safe food." You say as you lean against the counter, feeling awful and like you were a nuisance towards him and his family. "But I can deal with it."

"Nonsense, I'll just keep looking. Hey, how about some apples and peanut butter? Both healthy and contain protein." He asks, opening a cabinet and looking around, moving things about.

You wave him off, "honestly I can wait...I can just go hole and order mcdonalds."

"McDonald's isn't exactly a healthy choice." He says and you shrug, "there's a Chinese place down by where I live."

"And I think you order so much that thats the reason they're still open."

You roll your eyes. "Really Rafe, I can just wait..."

"Then you'll get cranky from your blood sugar dropping and you'll start to get panicky...remember the last time? You kept hitting your head and I thought you were gonna have a concussion." He sighs, running his hand through his hair as he closes the cabinet, looking over at you.

"Whats up with you tism people and fast food?" He asks, walking over to you.

"Convient, you don't have to make it or stress for like 30 minutes looking for what may look good, and if you order from a place enough it's a no brainer on what to eat." You shrug as you explain.

"You need to have a home cooked meal at some point." He states, placing his hands on his hips and staring down at you.

You chuckle, "Well until you become my personal chef I'd have to wait...you're very patient with me." You mumbles the last part, fiddling with your hands and he takes hold of them. You noticed his hands felt warm and you look up at him, "You're special to me."

You tilt your head at him, "Is that a special needs joke?"

He grins and wraps his arm around your shoulder, "Could be but you're still special...c'mon...let's go get some mcdonalds and worry about our health when we're old." He escorts you both to the front of the house.

"I'll still be eating chicken nuggets at 50."

"If you're alive by then with your health choices."

[hellyeahsickaf]

Cooking While Disabled

One of the things I miss most about being less disabled is cooking. It was one of my favorite things to do and something I've always been good at.

On good days there are things I can do that make it easier. It's not the same as before, but I hope that sharing what makes it possible for me to cook helps others who struggle with it.

Tips for cooking while disabled:

You can incorporate precooked food in your meals. For example, stir fry with precooked rice with the ingredients of your choice, or taking frozen pasta (like the ones with maybe sauce and a couple other things) or plain microwave pasta (I prefer these, but heat it first) and putting it in a pan adding other ingredients like vegetables, cheese, garlic, etc

If it comes frozen or canned that can really help. Frozen rice you can just microwave, frozen cut veggies and garlic and onions are good as well

Buy a chopper with different shaped blades, spiralizer, electric slicer/grater, food processor, or any appliance that will save you energy. Ideally machine washable. Stand mixers are also better than manual ones. Especially helpful if you have joint/wrist issues

You can always prepare ingredients ahead of time. I find that sometimes it helps to prep (chopping or mixing ingredients, etc) earlier in the day or even a day before. Then you can put it in the fridge or freezer until you're ready to cook the full meal

Look up easy recipes or recipes for elderly/seniors. With the latter you may find more nutritionally balanced food but an unbalanced easy meal is better than none

You can sit while you prepare ingredients.

You're allowed to take breaks. You can turn the stove off, maybe put a lid on it to retain the heat, sit down, maybe take something for your symptoms. Some things you may not be able to stop in the middle of like making pancakes or deep frying something, but if you're making soup or curry or chili or something, often you can turn it off for a bit and take care of yourself.

If you need help and can get it, please ask for help. I know many of us need to work on asking for help including myself. Even if it's just washing the pots and pans or chopping something. You are not a burden you hear me?

Stretch before and after cooking just as one would before a workout. It will likely lessen any joint pain or stiffness as you are still exerting yourself

Listen to your body. Just as you're allowed to take a break, you are allowed to decide you won't be able to finish what you're doing. You may put away your food before it's done (if this won't ruin the meal). You are allowed to leave a dirty pot in the sink and come back to it later (just make sure you or someone else does before it gets gross). You can wash them in the dishwasher. I know this is bad for the seasoning on pots and pans but you can reseason them to be nonstick again and use nonstick spray

You can buy seasoning mixes rather than using individual seasoning. Instead of parsley, oregano, basil, etc you can buy Italian seasoning. Instead of paprika, pepper, cumin, oregano, salt, etc, you can just get taco seasoning. This may sound obvious but it can save a lot of time and energy

An issue I have is buying perishable ingredients thinking I can use them, having a bad week or two, and the ingredients have gone bad. Try to plan out your meals before shopping and ask yourself if there's an easier alternative for any ingredients. Maybe pre chopped fresh onion instead of a whole one, sliced mushrooms instead of whole, frozen vegetable blends instead of individual, powdered ginger instead of the root, bullion instead of stock that you may not be able to use all at once. I know this is like one of the other points but these are what I find most helpful

Use supercook.com! You input the ingredients you have on hand and you'll get a list of recipes you can make with what you have. Often there's a wide range of complexity and difficulty

Make enough food to freeze or refrigerate leftovers. It helps if you can portion it into single servings in Tupperware or freezer bags. You can prepare frozen burritos for your next few lunches or dinners, separate portion sizes of spaghetti, portion salads, etc

Feel free to add any additions!

[tiredfox64]

I was wondering if you could write about Smoke and the reader have already been married and they have kids of their own (2 or 3) and Kuai Liang and Harumi decided to give them a break by watching the kids while Tomas and the reader go on a date night and when they come back they see Kaui Liang and Harumi look exhausted and lost while the kids are being rambunctious? Lol

Never Again, Not Even for Cake

Prior notes: I’ve babysat my niece once. I ended up telling my fiancé my baby fever was gone. Still looking for it. (I’ll get to the other requests soon)

Pairing: Tomas x Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: A child (no)

Ah yes, life’s pleasures. Fall in love, get married, have yourself a little family, the good stuff. Ah but hey, did anyone tell you have difficult kids could be?

Well, Tomas was a child once, but that doesn’t help. You did come from a large family, that helps. It was like living with bunnies. Even if you were the youngest there was always a cousin, niece, or nephew to help with. So you got the hang of this.

The first were a pair of twins, god help you. Two rambunctious boys who went behind their father’s back and learned smoke magic themselves. They aren’t skilled but they like to use it for pranks. And when they turned five, what do you think happened? That’s right! You fell pregnant again! This time with a baby girl.

So now you and Tomas have a family with a pair of six year old twins and a one year old baby girl. Take a guess, when was the last time you ever caught a break? Long time ago. That’s why Kuai Liang and Harumi stepped up and decided to babysit. That’s what good godparents do. You were a little skeptical since you never really knew how good they were with kids. But they constantly said it won’t be bad, you two need a break, you guys haven’t had a date in a while, etcétera etcétera. You caved, now the lovely couple stands in your home, ready to babysit.

“Are you sure you two can do this? You do realize the twins are sneaky? The little one found out she can grab things now.” You kept blabbering and Tomas had to reassure you.

“My love, I’m sure they will be fine. Kuai Liang helped raise me so I’m sure he can deal with the boys.”

“But-“

“We know the milk is in the fridge we just need to warm it up. She is teething so there are frozen teething toys in the freezer. The boys will eat anything and they like to sit down to watch Power Rangers.” Harumi quickly shut you down by going over some of the key points you told them.

“I still don’t think your use of the television is a great idea when calming the boys down.” Kuai Liang critiqued as if he has any say.

“It’s just a tv, Kuai Liang. Other parents do worse you have no idea.” You snapped back.

“Okay, love, I think we should get going. They look like they can handle themselves. Goodbye! Thank you again!” Tomas thanked his brother and sister in law before dragging you out of the house.

Finally a moment of freedom.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧��°╞══💤══

A simple dinner alone was already a treat itself. Not having to force the twins to sit down, stop fighting, and just eat their food was a relief. Or your baby crying in the middle of the meal and having to listen for a good minute to figure out what she wants. The worst is when she’s just crying for no reason and you can’t do anything but let it pass.

There was none of that. Just you and Tomas having a yummy meal. It took you back to the time when you two were just dating. You could never really sit down since Tomas seemed paranoid he would be caught sneaking out of practice. He’d always scare you by popping out of no where from a puff of smoke. It wasn’t ever a big deal and he’d take your hand to go get some food. You commonly would steal from his plate whenever you could but you would give something back in return. A trade. He was happy to see that you still do that even when you guys are now married. You haven’t changed a bit and he was happy with that. Not even becoming a mother could suppress your personality.

You still look as gorgeous as the day he met you and he still looks so handsome. You never doubted your relationship with him. Never doubted marrying him or having kids with him. This date shows that there is a still a strong spark between you.

Not even when the dinner was done did the date truly end. You guys walked, talked, and laughed together. Never even a mention of the kids. Oh that’s right, the kids.

“It’s getting pretty late. You think we should start heading back? We did tell that that we would be out for three hours.” You suggested.

Tomas took a moment to think about it. Yes, it was getting pretty late. Late enough that the kids might need to be put down for bed soon. But…

“Nope, I think they will be okay with us being out for another hour. It’s not like the kids have anywhere important to be tomorrow so they can stay up late.” Eh, good enough, may the date go on!

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

You and Tomas felt more rejuvenated. All smiles and laughter. You even felt good enough to get Kuai Liang and Harumi a whole cheesecake as another thanks for babysitting. You of course had to get the twins their own slice or else they won’t even shut up.

What you didn’t expect is to walk into was pure chaos. Your motherly instincts kicked in the moment you heard the baby crying. A cry of pain, probably the teething. Ah but Harumi looks like she’s in more pain. The baby had a tight grip on her long hair. That’s what you forgot to tell her. The baby yanks so she should put her hair up. Well at least Kuai Liang was safe from that.

…never mind the boys got him. He looked like a shell of his former self. His bun was so close to unraveling. At least nothing was on fire so that means they didn’t trick him into using his powers.

You placed the desserts on the kitchen table before running to Harumi. You forced your baby girl to open her hands and let go of Harumi’s beautiful black hair. It looked all messy now when it’s usually all smoothed down. You opened the freezer door and popped in the first frozen teething toy you could see. Immediately the crying stopped and she was satisfied once more.

Poor Kuai Liang, the twins are yanking at him and asking him to do more tricks. What is it with boys and arson? Tomas came over quickly to yank them off him, holding them by the back of their shirts. Looking around you could see the living room was in shambles.

“What in the world happened here?!” You yelled out.

“Why didn’t you say anything about them using smoke magic?” Kuai Liang asked in a tired voice.

“We told you they were sneaky.” You said.

“That’s not-!” He stopped himself from screaming at you.

Tomas placed both boys down on the ground again before scolding them into apologizing and cleaning the living room up.

“I mean look, you lived. You still have head on your hair,” You pointed at Harumi, “And you still have your sanity in tact.” Referring to Kuai Liang.

That was a lie they look utterly exhausted. Traumatized even. You’ve never seen these two that disheveled before. Hell, not even you looked this way after giving birth to the twins. Though their looks didn’t stop Tomas from asking for something else.

“Thank you so much for taking care of the kids, Kuai Liang,” he pulled his brother in closely to whisper something, “Could you come back next week? I want to take her out again.”

Kuai Liang damn near looked like he would kill his brother. He didn’t say anything. He just took Harumi’s hand and went out the door. They didn’t even take the cheesecake. Oh well! More for the family!

After notes: I’m sorry if this seems disfuncional. I ended up crying during my speech today so I feel off. I’ll be done with this semester soon. Only three weeks to go. Adiós!

[rabioa]

First Cut

Alastor x Nurse!Reader - Fluff - Gender Neutral

Alastor has never cared much for the residents of the hotel, but with you, he couldn't help but grow curious. You were so attentive to everyone's health so would you care about him as much? He knows you're scared of him just like everyone else, but maybe your generosity outweighs your logic? Oh, that would be so delightful. You had a bleeding heart so aren't you a helpful little doll! You ought to be rewarded for your boldness, truly

TW: Alastor gets a cut on purpose for your attention, any Hazbin Hotel warnings

My first short fanfic about Alastor!! I love him so much omg :3 i intend to make a part 2 where Alastor returns the favor. I hope you enjoy this and as always, any feedback would be super appreciated!!! Remember to hydrate and remember that you are loved!!!! <333

Imagine you were a nurse while you were alive, and for whatever reason you ended up in Hell. Despite your sins, you still wanted to help others. It's that desire to heal others that led you to the Hazbin Hotel. You had been staying there for a few weeks now, getting used to the new dynamics of everything.

Alastor definitely took notice of you; you weren't quite an employee, yet you somehow became the resident nurse. You fretted over everyone: constantly providing hangover cures for Husk, painkillers for Angel Dust after a filming session, band aids for Niffty, and other medical attention as needed for everyone.

Although you were initially shy around Lucifer, you eventually got comfortable enough to take care of him too. You ensured he got food in his system and some fresh air, even after he locked himself in his room all day.

Much to Alastor's amusement, you wormed yourself into everybody's heart besides his. He noticed how formal and stiff you were around him, growing meek in his presence. You were intimidated by him. It didn't stop you from being polite and sweet though, you just tried your best to slip out of the room whenever he appeared. He was trouble, and you knew that.

Imagine one day though, you're both in the kitchen. He was cooking something for the hotel, a luxury he blessed the hotel with often. You were restocking some ice packs (because a certain spider demon wouldn't return them to their place after each use!). You kept your distance, quiet as a mouse as you placed the melted packs into the freezer. 

Alastor observed you, the way you nervously worked. Your hands would fumble in their rush to be done. He had to give you credit though, you looked composed compared to most other demons.

He continued to chop some vegetables. He was skilled with a knife, moving with lethal efficiency. It was something you noted with apprehension. Still, you focused on your task, not wanting to interact with the terrifying Radio Demon.

Unfortunately for you, he found you amusing. You were bold enough to demand the king of Hell himself eat three square meals a day, yet you were a shivering mouse under his gaze. He briefly wondered though, despite your fear, does your kindness extend to him? 

He decided on an experiment. He was no coward to pain; he had been cut by a blade many times in his life. To become both a skilled chef and killer took trial and error with knives. That was why when he sliced his hand, he didn't even flinch. It was a meager gash on the back of his hand. He let the knife clatter against the counter loud enough to draw your attention. 

“Hmmm,” he let out a disapproving hum at the injury, not so subtly forcing you to see his wound. A performance of sorts. 

“You're injured!” you noted with surprise. Your first reflex was to step closer to him, the ice packs now forgotten. Then you looked at his face staring intently at yours. Oh, this was Alastor. Did you really want to risk angering him by fretting over him? But then again, he was hurt, and you were never one to turn a blind eye to someone in pain. 

Alastor's grin widened when he watched your eyes bouncing back and forth between his hand and his face. He could almost hear the gears in your head turning, trying to figure out if your fear would overcome your morals. He knew human nature well; you might put on a brave front, but just like all the others, you're a meek little ant in the face of his power. 

“It appears so, dear. Would you care to do something about it?” He prompted you, glee in his voice. 

The joy in his voice was undoubtedly a red flag in your book, but you gave in. You let out a huff, a sound you often made when dealing with troublesome patients, before finding the kitchen medical kit. You moved with familiarity, placing the kit on the counter and gently guiding his hand towards you.

Although he expected the kit, he didn't expect you to gently grab his hand and bring it towards you. On instinct, his hand twitched closed around yours for a moment, his claws warning you of how easily he could tear you apart. Your breath had hitched, but your plan remained.

“We need to disinfect the wound first. That knife could've been contaminated,” you muttered. It was mainly to fill up the silence lingering in the air like an insistent plague. His hand relaxed, appeased by your explanation. 

You grabbed an alcoholic wipe and carefully cleaned the wound, the wipe turning red. Your face was still, focused. 

Alastor watched in small surprise, not expecting you to be so attentive towards him. He was so used to other demons being too scared to think straight, yet here you were, touching him so casually. Your touch didn't even feel too incredibly invasive. Instead, it felt professional, but not cold.

You were glad the sting didn't make him react too much, disinfecting the wound going well. You then pulled out a strip of bandage. “The cut isn't too big, so it just needs to be covered as it heals, but I know you wear gloves, so it needs to be extra secured so the glove doesn't mess with it,” you explained. You carefully wrapped it up, and finally finished with your work. You looked up at him, gauging his reaction. 

He tested the treatment, clenching his hand a few times. That seemed to satisfy him. He looked at you and you couldn't help but fidget, averting your eyes. He was still unnerving as fuck, but at least he didn't try to eat you alive?

You began to put your supplies away, but his voice demanded your attention once more. You shifted your gaze over to him when he began to speak.

“Well, aren't you a helpful little doll! You ought to be rewarded for your boldness, truly,” he mused. He picked up the knife with his good hand. You stumbled back a little, bumping into the counter. He twirled the knife as you watched with wide eyes, oh God, maybe he was going to kill you now? Or torture you? You really were bold, oh God. 

He twirled the knife in his hands, the metal glinting menacingly at you. Then he angled it away from the both of you as if holding up a finger. “I'll make you some Gumbo!” He grinned merrily at you. Your paled expression during his teasing had him absolutely delighted. He couldn't help but poke some fun at you, scaring you to your wit's end. 

“O-Oh, thank you… sir,” you let out the breath you were holding, relief flooding your system. 

“Now why don't you go rest up and I'll call you when supper is ready?” He ordered you, waving you off with his bandaged hand.

“Ah, sure, after I finish my-” you trailed off as you looked towards the freezer. Black inky tentacles glowing green were doing your job, placing the ice packs in neatly. “Thank you,” you muttered in surprise. That was one job finished.

“You are quite the diligent little mouse! You should take a break and take care of yourself,” he hummed, leaning against the counter as he watched you. 

Shivers went up your spine, the hairs on your neck prickling. You sighed, forcing the tension in your body to disperse. “Thanks. I suppose I do need to take a break,” you agreed. You didn't have the best sleep schedule, and you could go for a nap after staying up a bit late tending to Husk and then getting the scare of your death. You shuffled out of the kitchen.

Now that Alastor was alone, he began to reflect. You weren't boring, that was for sure. He would definitely have to tease you more. You looked so adorable when focused, why he could just eat you up! He looked back down at his hand, looking at the carefully bound bandages. You remembered he wore gloves. You even took it into consideration. How awfully kind of you. Well, he took it upon himself to reward your kindness with relentless teasing from him.

After all, you were like a shiny new toy for him to bat around. He would see how long it would take to get you around his finger. He clenched his fist, ignoring the pain erupting from the cut. He readied his knife and grabbed his half-cut vegetable to continue his work.

He was getting ahead of himself, getting so excited over his future plans. First, he needed to make some Gumbo.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

dad!Eddie Munson x fem!reader

kidfic from the simmer verse 🍳 inspired by this ask/tiktok

When your daughter turned six, you and Eddie moved out of your apartment and into a home fit for a family. One with a big bay window and a huge garden, an oak tree out the back for Eddie to hang a swing from.

It came with a wrap around porch and the kitchen of Eddie’s dreams and Maeve got to pick the colour for her new bedroom, a mustard yellow that made her room feeling like an eternal summer. She was her daddy’s girl, a princess.

And then she turned twelve.

Eddie was in the kitchen when Maeve appeared, already so much taller than Eddie liked, her hair the same colour as yours but as curly as her fathers. She was just as pouty now, preteen hormones making her perpetually moody, sulking in corners and stealing away to her bedroom with Basil.

Now? Now she seemed to be on a mission.

“Dad?”

Eddie looked up from the cook book he was reading, tired eyed after an early morning meeting at the restaurant. They were making a new menu and Eddie had been worn thin, working too late and coming home to make you taste test all his new ideas. You never complained.

“Yeah, squish?”

“I’m hungry,” Maeve announced, sliding herself onto one of the barstools at the large island. Copper pots hung on a rack from the ceiling, casting bronze coloured reflections off of the girls cheeks. She still had freckles from the summer, a scratch on her chin from where uncle Argyle had tried to teach her how to skateboard. “Can you make me something?”

“Yeah, babe, sure,” Eddie wandered over to the fridge and he pulled out some containers. He wiggled one enticingly. “I made some mac ‘n’ cheese last night, you want me to hear some up?”

Maeve wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like mac ‘n’ cheese.”

Eddie’s face fell and his frown matched his daughters perfectly. If you’d been home from work, you would’ve laughed and called her his comeuppance.

“Well, you liked it fine last week.”

The twelve year old just shrugged, her legs swinging from her stool. “Well, I don’t anymore,” she replied with just as much indignation as her dad. “Can I get some pizza pockets?”

Now Eddie really did huff. The only reason the box of pastry abominations were in his freezer to begin with is because you’d done the last grocery shop. He narrowed his eyes at Maeve but moved to the freezer door when she giggled.

“We need to teach you some taste, kid,” Eddie tried to act stern. “How many you want? You starvin’?”

Maeve leaned onto her elbows and let her hands squish her cheeks. Her nails were black and glittery, painted carefully by you a few nights before and she’d proudly shown her dad her colour choice when he came home from work. “I don’t know, just two.”

“You don’t know?” Eddie questioned and he peered over his shoulder, the over door open. “You said you were hungry, babe. This is a meal for a hamster.”

Basil appeared at the mention of rodents, the black cat slinking into the kitchen to wind around Eddie’s ankles.

“I’ll have some chips too.” Maeve announced. “And some sliced apple, but only like, four slices, okay?”

Eddie blinked. “Four?”

“Yes, please.”

Well, at least she had manners. Eddie grumbled under his breath but did as told, shoving in the pizza horror before washing off an apple under the tap. He cut it as his girl watched, chomping every other slice until only four remained.

The timer on the oven had five minutes left. “Anything else, princess?”

Maeve seemed to ponder this question before she nodded, her little face as serious as could be. “Some grapes too, but just ten. And if there’s some baby bells left, I’ll have one. Oh, and seven gummy worms.”

Eddie’s lips were parted, his brows raised as he stared across the counter at his daughter. He didn’t know whether to laugh or call you and ask if this was some kind of prank he didn’t know about.

“What?”

Maeve blinked. “What?”

So Eddie huffed again and got out a plate, murmuring nonsense to himself as he gathered Maeve’s order, glaring playfully at her as he counted out exactly ten grapes. She grinned as she leaned over, laughing mischievously as she plucked one from the plate.

And when Eddie gasped, all theatrical, Maeve pointed to her plate and told him quite plainly around a mouthful of fruit, “dad, I said ten.”

Eventually, the timer beeped and two pizza pockets with oozing fake cheese were added to the plate. Eddie slid it over with a flourish, cackling when Maeve took offence to one gummy worm touching the pizza sauce that had leaked out. So he snatched it and shoved it into his mouth biting off the side with the sauce before dropping it back onto her plate.

“Dad! Ew!” Maeve gasped, throughly insulted but she slunk off her stool and Eddie flicked her on the as she passed, grinning when she scurried back to her room with Basil at her feet.

[londondungeon2]

went to the doctor and came back with the test results on jade leech. (headcanons/exploration from canon)

1. doesn’t like strong scents and stays away from most colognes/perfumes. if he is going out to a certain high-quality function, he might wear body mists or perfume oils to give off a certain air of maturity. finds anything heavier than those two alternatives gives him a migraine. a book that would interest yet disgust him is perfume: the story of a murder by patrick süskind.

1.2. despite the constant ‘i must cut off my nose if i smell anything stronger than a candle’ feeling he carries with him, he really does enjoy the plain smell of his loved ones. just a whiff of floyd or azul’s sweat and his own tension melts away. would bury his nose in their neck throughout the day for a quick refresher if he wasn’t so guarded around the public’s eye.

2. picked up his potionology expertise from azul. when they were kids, they often brewed potions together to give certain ‘poor unfortunate souls’ their end of the bargain when azul’s UM was still underdeveloped. azul was always a little bitter his potions never turned out as flawless as jade’s and jade is aware of this sentiment.

3. is known to take strolls around campus after hours and often finds himself caught in conversation with the ghosts in the portraits. during the daytime, jade will exchange a few pleasantries with them — which does not make sense to azul or floyd because he’s never interacted with them before?? how are they on such good terms?? jade likes to keep them both in the dark for how the relationship between him and the portrait ghosts was fostered.

3.2. speaking on his strolls, jade often spies malleus doing the same thing yet has yet to make conversation with the young prince. it is not out of fear but rather respect for knowing when one is enjoying their peace. jade often regards malleus with the sentiment of most teenage girls have for their favorite characters: i need to put him under a microscope.

4. his first meal with mushrooms added (lets place him around first year, after winter break) made him violently sick. it was one that he had picked on his own during a night walk, and he added it into a soup because he has seen (yet not tried) those served in the cafeteria like so. due to them being so poorly undercooked, it caused major gastric problems for him. since then, he’s been enthralled and smitten with fungi <3

4.2. speaking on the note of him being sick, i imagine he really enjoys the sensation. now! he doesn’t purposely get sick, that would ruin the ‘authenticity’ of it. but he enjoys the feeling of his body under the weather, something different from the normal 98.0 Fahrenheit, somehow a virus has slipped through his clean and disinfected body and that’s exhilarating.

5. his hair bounces up and has cowlicks in it exactly like floyd’s does. he takes to gently combing and gelling down those in the morning, but when he takes off his octavinelle hat, some will resurface over time. every time floyd goes to ruffle his hair, his wrist is swiftly caught and squeezed by a gloved hand.

6. is known to like quiet, dark, and cold places. it is hard to find such places in a college like night raven but mostro lounge’s walk-in freezer has all THREE of these attributes. has on more than one occasion scared an employee because he sits in the corner, doing homework in the pitch-black dark, and all they can see is the light from his left eye. his reputation keeps anyone from seeing this as odd rather than sinister.

7. is most certainly lying about his UM. always the wolf in sheep’s clothing, he likes to be seen as helpless and he adores being underestimated. sniffle sniffle poor me, my UM only works on one person at a time sniffle sniffle and it is not even a guaranteed thing.

8. has a vigorous appetite and enjoys a wide variety of foods, but has found his favorite fruit to be oranges. he enjoys the sensation of opening them and peeling slice by slice. additionally, vitamin C promotes healthy blood vessel function which works well for a jade with POTS, a headcanon siphoned off this ao3 work.

9. since he does not have the perfect memory like his twin brother, he takes to writing down information about the student body in multiple folders. is always on the lookout for new information and slipping secrets that people whisper in the hallways.

9.2. sometimes gets distracted listening in on other people’s conversation if a topic piques his interest. if he is in a conversation with another person while this happens, he turns it on them, maybe you weren’t paying attention to him … how rude of you.

10. homestretch … last headcanon … [pukes blood and dies before i can say it]

[tigergirltail]

TIGER HRT CHAPTER 6 - MONTH 6 - THE CAGED BIRD

CONTENT WARNING - This chapter contains mentions of medical injections, bigotry, child abuse, self-harm, and attempted suicide. Reader beware.

FIRST - PREV - NEXT

I had my six-month check-up with Dr. Erian, an online appointment just like last time. No particular medical issues this time around, bloodwork checks out, genetic reconfiguration is stable. We can't do a thorough physical exam over the internet, but according to him, I am "the very picture of health, by the standards of your species". I'm a bit curious what standards those are, given that I have yet to hear about any other tiger therians. Hopefully there ARE standards, and he's not just giving me empty reassurance.

We also spent some time going over dietary concerns - am I getting enough meat, am I reducing my fruit and grain intake appropriately, that sort of thing. I assured him that I'm eating real meat with every meal, just like the booklet said to, I've been limiting fruits and vegetables, and I don't even have an appetite for anything grain-based. I'll probably miss what fresh bread used to be like, but I just can't bring myself to want it anymore. Apparently not every therian is following the diet they're supposed to, but the doctor didn't have any concerns about me, "assuming your answers are honest, Miss Alexis". What, does he think I'm about to lie to the one person who knows how species transition works?

At one point during the discussion I thought I heard him mutter something about a "foolish undine", but I must have misheard. Undines are water spirits or elementals or something - a fictional creature. Then again, so are dragons and lamias, but the first well-known humanity remover was a dragon-girl, and I've been hanging out and playing online games with a lamia. At this point you could tell me there's someone out there transitioning to Sonic the Hedgehog, and I might actually believe you.

I've hit the point of full fur coverage, so no more awkward bald patches! Unfortunately, this does mean I need to start taking my estrogen in a form other than skin patches, because there's nowhere left to stick them. After a lot of agonizing over the pros and cons of potential liver damage from pills versus facing down my needle phobia, I opted to ask my endocrinologist to train me on injectable estrogen. She made a somewhat tone-deaf joke about not being trained in veterinary medicine, but she was otherwise very patient and reassuring, so I let it slide.

I do want to state for the record that I am a big scary tiger who's not afraid of anything and I only cried a little bit the first time I injected myself.

My ears are definitely becoming much more sensitive - I keep hearing really annoying high-pitch noises when I'm around heavy machinery, and that happens a lot more often than you might think. My office at work is right next to an elevator, and whenever someone uses it, the motor lets out this gods-awful whine and I have to plug my ears until it stops moving again. My local grocery also has a few freezer units that give off a similar sound, constantly, and I've had to start wearing earplugs to go on food runs.

As for visual changes, I can see in the dark reasonably well, but I've also started getting headaches and discomfort when I squint or try too hard to focus on something. I guess I should probably just… try to not do that. I have spent a significant portion of my life staring at a screen, so my eyes probably aren't in the best shape overall.

Now that my physical changes are pretty much done, most people just assume I'm wearing a very intricate costume - at least, until they get close. No costume has mouth movements or facial expressions this realistic, and believe me, our top furry scientists and engineers have tried.

At one point there's a conversation on the humanity removal chat server about the political climates in our respective areas towards therians. Obviously, a lot of the right-wing talking-head shows have been shitting themselves inside-out about the idea of people giving up their humanity, especially the ones with a more religious bent. "How dare these freaks forsake God's holy image", "Humanity is a divine blessing and must be cherished", "We call on the one true God to smite these worshippers of the Beast", and so on like that. Excuse you, but I've never worshipped your discriminatory god and I'm not beholden to their 'holy image'. My goddess is one of beauty, love, and artistic expression, and the entire reason I'm changing myself in the first place is as an expression of self-love.

Most of us agree, though, that the absolute worst of the 24-hour news cycle doesn't have anything to do with how regular everyday people see us. In fact, we're rare enough still that a decent proportion of people don't believe we exist - they think that tabloids made us up to sell more copies. I don't know if that's better in terms of acceptance, but I'll take it over a torch-and-pitchfork mob running me out of town.

The conversation shifts to us sharing our locations, those of us who are comfortable doing so at least. We generally keep it vague, but most of us are at least alright with saying which country we live in. I narrow it down to a province for myself, mainly because my province alone is larger than some countries, but also because once we start to get noticed by the media and the world, there'll probably be no stopping our locations becoming known.

It's also going to get interesting if anyone starts asking how most of us are going to the same medical provider when he requires that consultations be done in person, or why the location he operates out of - Hyper City - doesn't appear on any map. Truthfully, I'm still trying to wrap my head around it myself.

The next day, I get a private message from the girl with the corvid avatar:

"Hey I saw your post when everybody was talking about where they are! I live there too!! We should totally meet up sometime ^v^"

…This is a dilemma. Obviously, I'm worried about the optics of a teenager meeting up with a 39-year-old she met on the internet, there's all kinds of ways that could be taken the wrong way, but dammit, I still don't know anyone like me in this part of the world, who knows if I'll ever find anyone else who's local? …I really want to try, but I should at least give her a warning, and a judgement-free out.

"Uhh I get wanting to meet up, but I'm more than 20 years older than you, would your parents be anywhere near cool with that??"

There's a long pause. I see her start and stop typing multiple times. I'm worried I've upset her. Eventually, she sends another message:

"I don't give a fuck what they think"

I'm taken aback by the harshness of the reply, and don't manage to type anything before another series of messages pops up:

"and they don't care what I do anyway so it's whatever" "if anyone asks I'll just say you're my weird aunt" "you have no idea how bad I want to meet someone who GETS IT" "humanity is a curse and I want to be free"

'I want to be free'. Something about that phrase hits somewhere deep, in a source of pain that never fully healed. Freedom from pain, freedom from self-hatred, freedom at any cost, even if it meant my life. I remember how that desire for freedom feels.

The only thing I can think to do next is ask if she's okay. Her response is to ask if I can go on a voice call. I'm not sure if she wants some confirmation that I'm a real person or if she just doesn't want the next part of the conversation preserved in the text log.

"Hey…", I begin cautiously as the voice call starts. "Can you hear me okay?"

There's a suppressed sniffle on the other end. "Yeah… I hear you."

For a moment I entertain the thought of going all 'when I was your age' and explaining that I was always cautioned against talking to strangers on the internet, but it's probably not the time for that. Read the room, Alexis.

She's not saying anything. I'm going to have to start this off, I think. Something harmless, something value-neutral…

"So from your icon, I'm guessing you want crow HRT? Raven HRT, maybe?"

"Crow HRT.", she states simply. "Crows are everywhere here, and I've always loved them, always been jealous of them. They get to go anywhere they want, do anything they want…" She lets out a groaning sigh. "Augh, this is stupid. You probably think I'm stupid for wanting this."

I can't hold back from giving a little bit of a laugh. "Hah! Young lady, one year ago I went to a doctor and told him to his face that I wanted him to turn me into a recessive-gene variant of an endangered species that doesn't even live on this continent, and then I threatened to bite him if he wouldn't do it. Fantasizing about being a crow is just about the normalest thing I can imagine compared to that."

"…You said you'd BITE him?"

I grin, though without a camera set up she can't see it. "Every one of us who seeks out humanity removal therapy is already a little bit inhuman, even if we don't fully know it yet. After all, why would we remove something if we felt emotionally attached to it?"

Another audible sniffle. "Holy fuck, you DO get it…"

"I sure hope I get it, it's not like I can un-grow the fur and the tail."

She gives a laugh, then there's a long pause. "…Does it hurt? Is it scary?"

"Sometimes. My fingers were REALLY sore while my claws were developing, and having your entire facial structure rearrange is no joke. As for scary, well, I sure get stared at a lot more, but I think I scare people a lot more than they scare me."

"Heh, maybe I want to be scary."

I frown a little. "I don't. I just want to be true to myself."

There's an awkward silence. After a while, I decide to bring up something I was curious about:

"So I remember you asking if there was a way to get species HRT without your parents noticing. I'm guessing they're not exactly supportive?"

She lets out an uncomfortable groan. "Mmmngh… They watch a lot of those news shows, you know, the ones that only run angry sensationalist bullcrap? Dad gets furious at the idea of anyone changing themselves, something about the 'holy sanctity of the human body' or whatever. He even thinks tattoos are blasphemy. Mom says it's the most horrific thing she can imagine, she nearly fainted when she caught me watching a stream of this one dragon girl talking about her changes."

"And here you are, wanting to be a bird… I'm sorry, that sounds really rough."

"It… It is." I can hear her voice faltering. "Hearing nothing but how terrible a waste it is, and how awful and horrific they are, and the whole time knowing that I'd give ANYTHING for it to happen to me, I just… I'm sorry, I just…"

"Hey, you don't need to apologize… I'm not going anywhere."

"I just… don't know how much longer I can take it!"

"…Take what?" I'm afraid to ask my next question, but… I just have to. "…What are they doing to you??"

Somewhere deep inside her, the dam just… breaks. She starts sobbing as she tells me about how her parents yell at her over every single mistake, how she gets shoved or hit just for being in the way, how she hurts herself just so the pain gives her something to feel and to focus on, and how she… How she once climbed up to the roof of her building and took a flying leap off. She had every intention to end her own life, but in the moment her feet left the ground and she felt the air under her arms, she experienced a rush of euphoria, for the first time she can remember.

…And a moment later, she broke a leg and several ribs when she hit the ground.

She explains that she spent over a month in hospital, a captive audience for her parents to yell at more, when they even bothered to show up at all. I'm too stunned to even react.

She's spent the years since then chasing that high, climbing trees and jumping off, finding rooftops and hilltops to go stand in the wind, looking up online videos of parachuting and wingsuiting and hang gliding, and when she first heard rumours about medical treatments that can alter one's very species, she started frantically researching. That's how she started finding other therians to reach out to, how she got involved in the group chat.

"Have you… had an appointment with Dr. Erian yet?" I have a feeling I already know the answer - something something, 'letter from a physician, two psychologists, live as your preferred species for at least a year'. The same horseshit I had to listen to.

"No… I tried to get one, but he won't see anyone under 18 without parental consent, and fat chance of ever getting that."

Huh. I hadn't expected that, it feels surprisingly principled for him. Though at the end of the day, it's probably just another liability thing - ol' Teddy Erian covering his own ass as usual.

"I just…" She's started crying again. "I just want to turn into a beautiful black bird and fly away from all this, forever… I just want to live my life on the wind, going wherever I want, never having to see a single human again…"

I can feel my own tears welling up, and that's the moment I make my decision. I'm going to meet up with this girl, and I'm going to find a way to help her. Maybe she doesn't need humanity removal, maybe she just needs to know someone who understands.

We decide on a place and time to meet up. There's a little cafe I like nearby, run by a trio of neurodivergent queer women. It's a public place, and about as safe for weirdos like us as you can get. Corvid-girl tells me she'll be the one with a feathered headband and a crow-skull necklace. I tell her I'll be the one with white fur and a tail. That manages to get a laugh out of her. I choose to take that as a victory.

There's something about the way she laughs that sounds a bit like a crow's call. I wonder whether that's intentional on her part…

A few days later, I'm sitting in the cafe enjoying a hot chocolate and a roast beef sandwich - extra meat, naturally. Dr. Erian said I have to start cutting chocolate out of my diet because cocoa is going to become toxic to me, but… chocolate! I did ask for a lighter mix though, so what I'm drinking is actually mostly just hot milk. Maybe there's a cocoa-free substitute out there I can look into…

I'm snapped out of my thoughts by a squeal of delight emanating from the front door. There's a teenage girl standing there, staring directly at me with a look of amazement on her face. Dark clothes, pale skin, black hair, headband with feathers in it, and hanging from her neck, an amulet in the shape of a bird skull. I smile and wave a paw at her. She practically bounces as she walks up to my table and takes a seat.

"Holy SHIT, you're… And you even have the… Your face looks just like… Can I touch your paw??"

I laugh and hold out my paw. "Haha, sure, just watch out for the claws, they don't stay all the way inside just yet."

"Oh, it's okay, I'm used to sharp things!"

I wince as I think back to our voice chat from the other day. I REALLY hope she doesn't mean what I think she means, but I can't help noticing she's wearing long sleeves, even though the weather has been getting warmer.

She turns my paw over and squeals. "OHMYGOD you even have the BEEEEANS!" I can't resist smiling as she starts poking and prodding at my pawpads. "You look SO!! AMAZING!!"

Corvid-girl starts frantically complimenting all my animalistic features - "Your stripes are so pretty!" "I love your tail!" "Ohh, your fangs, they're so COOL!!" - and I start uncontrollably blushing. I never would have thought species affirmation would feel this euphoric… Naturally, being a teenager, she takes this as an excuse to push even harder, and I start covering my face with my paws, thoroughly embarrassed.

"You look just like the tigers they have on stage for those shows in Vegas!"

"H-hey, that's actually not okay…"

"You know, I bet you'd look good up on a stage too! Everyone would love to see you!!"

Instinctually, I let out a growl, louder than I actually want to. It has the intended effect, in that she stops dead and stares at me, but so do a few other cafe patrons. Oh gods, here comes the embarrassment again… "H-hey, look, it's just…"

"Sorry." She's gone completely deadpan, and stiff as a board.

I close my eyes tightly. Gods, why did I DO that?? First the waitress at that seafood place, and now an actual CHILD. I REALLY need to start getting a handle on these predator instincts. When I open my eyes again, she's still standing there, and she looks like she's on the verge of a panic attack.

I need to calm her down, need to bring her back. "No… I'M sorry. I shouldn't have done that, I just… The animals they use for those stage shows get abused all the time, and it's kind of a sore spot for me."

"…Really?"

Okay, she's talking, she's distracted, maybe I can still salvage this. "Yeah… Every species has baggage, it's one of the shitty parts of being therian, and tigers, white tigers especially, they're treated like show pieces, or worse."

"…Well shit, I knew they're endangered, but… fuck."

"Yeah, it's a whole thing, I try not to -"

Our conversation is interrupted by one of the staff tapping corvid-girl on the shoulder and asking to talk privately. She reluctantly agrees to go to the back of the store and talk. At first I think maybe she's being chastised for being a disturbance, but the barista who pulled her away is giving me some very pointed looks. Worried looks, I might even say.

If I angle my ears just right, I can almost hear them through the noise of the rest of the cafe.

"…other patrons were concerned… …young lady so close to a dangerous creature…"

I wonder if the barista notices the indignant look that crosses my face when they describe me as a 'creature'.

Corvid-girl lets out that bird-like laugh of hers. Her voice is a lot more distinct and easier to pick out:

"It's just my aunt! She's not a 'creature', she just takes meds to look like that!"

The barista doesn't protest as corvid-girl returns to our table, but they're still giving me a very 'You'd better not try anything' kind of look.

Corvid-girl sits down, seemingly a little more grounded, a little more sobered. "…I guess I never thought to ask, why a white tiger?"

I lean forward, head in one paw, and give a bit of a shrug. "I relate a lot to them."

"To… being treated like a show piece, or whatever you said?"

"…Yeah. When I was little, they called me 'gifted' and put me in a separate school. I remember being excited about it, but it turns out it just meant getting more homework."

"…Ew."

I smile a little bit. "That's what I thought too! They wanted me to be some brilliant prodigy, a genius in the making, but the reality is I was just more observant and better at math than most people, that's all. I actually had to take an extra year of school because I was so bad at it."

"EWW!!"

"I KNOW, RIGHT?? But, then I went to college and graduated at the top of my class, so the joke's on them in the end."

"I wasn't even planning on staying around long enough for college…" She still has a bit of a depressed air about her, but she's not going into a panic. Maybe I'm better with kids than I thought.

"Yeah, I remember, you were going to turn into a beautiful crow and fly away forever." I try to give her a reassuring look. "But hey, the human world isn't ALL bad."

"Says the woman who's turning herself into a wild animal."

I snort quietly as I hold back a laugh. "Okay, fair, but wild animals don't get the internet, or nice little cafes where weirdos like us can just sit and talk."

"Hah, yeah… Weirdos like us." She gives a smile. An actual, genuine smile. Suddenly all the awkwardness is worth it, to see someone so deeply unhappy smile. "That reminds me, I saw on the server you're into witchcraft, can you… teach me?"

Somehow I feel like I should have expected this. The goth-looking crow girl is into witchcraft, big surprise. "I… guess? Maybe? I'm not like an expert or anything, I've just read a few books and cast a few spells is all."

"Ooh, what kind of spells??" And now she's back to her enthusiastic self.

"Just some protective charms on people who needed them, a few card readings with a tarot deck, nothing much really…"

"Does it really work??"

"I mean, the people I cast those charms on ended up safe in the end, but who knows if what I did made a difference? Some of the card readings were scary-accurate though, I think I might have a talent for divination."

She laughs. "Gonna have to get you to read my future sometime."

We end up spending the next hour or so making small talk, getting to know each other, talking about the ins and outs of humanity removal, complaining about Dr. Erian, until…

"Hey, I gotta go catch the bus back home, but… this was nice." She gives a bit of a smirk. "Cool to meet another weirdo."

Before she leaves, I ask her name - I still don't know it, I've been internally calling her 'corvid-girl' this entire time.

She gives me a disgusted grimace. "Ugh, it's 'Margaret'. I'm named for my great-grandmother, it's SUCH an old-lady name."

"Margaret, like Maggie, as in magpie?" I smile a little. "Those are corvids too, you know."

Her expression softens a little. "…Never thought of that. Still don't like it, though…"

"Well, is there a name you'd like better? I can start calling you that if you like."

She freezes. Somewhere in her eyes I can see her mind working to process what I've just said. "…Nobody ever asked me that before. I'll… think about it." She turns to leave.

"Wait, hold on a sec."

"WHAT!?" She outright glares at me, then seems to soften. "Sorry, it's… never mind."

That… was an EXTREMELY sudden mood shift. Trauma response, maybe? "I… was just going to ask if you wanted a sandwich or something to take home."

"…Didn't bring any money…"

I shake my head a little. "That doesn't answer my question. Would you like me to BUY you a sandwich or something?"

"…Egg salad if they got it I guess…"

I go up to the counter and buy her an egg salad sandwich to go. She looks like she's going to cry when I hand it to her. I… probably shouldn't make a big deal about that, but somewhere deep inside, my heart breaks a little. Does she never have anyone just… offer her food?

I'm beginning to understand why she wants to leave behind the curse of humanity. I chose this path, I wanted to be a tiger, I'm running towards something. Corvid-girl, though? She's running away from something.

I walk her outside, and she starts to walk away, but suddenly stops, and turns back to me. She walks resolutely up to me, then grabs me in a hug.

"Soft…" Her voice is muffled against both my shirt and the fur underneath. "You're very soft…"

Once I get over my surprise at the sudden gesture, I hesitantly put one arm around her shoulders and pat her on the back. She pulls away after a few short moments, and walks away down the sidewalk without another word.

I touch my shirt where her head was leaning, and notice a small wet spot.

---

Time to play "Spot the References!" Intentional references below:

"something about a 'foolish undine'" - welldrawnfish (Fish HRT)

"the first well-known humanity remover was a dragon-girl" - ayviedoesthings (Dragon HRT)

"I've been hanging out and playing online games with a lamia" - ariathelamia (Lamia HRT)

"someone out there transitioning to Sonic the Hedgehog" - sonic-spirit (Sonic HRT)

"watching a stream of this one dragon girl talking about her changes" - Rain, by Jocelyn Samara D. (Dragon HRT)

[yutahoes]

Cooking, cooking

yeah, I kept using this GIF. because this was one of my favorite Yuta looks.

characters: husband! Yuta Nakamoto x wife! Reader

genre: fluff, a little suggestive by the end

word count: 1.8k words

summary: Cooking with your husband.

The scenes are highly based on The Avatar Apprentice show and an overdue ask.

"I'm home!" your husband called from outside and you hummed, gesturing that you were in the kitchen. Yuta just put down his bag before heading to where you are, surprised at the mess in your small kitchen. “What are you doing?” 

You looked up from where you were preparing the ingredients for dinner. “Your parents are coming,” you claimed, which startled him. No one told him they were coming over. “And father-in-law requested some black tiger shrimps.” 

A light chuckle escaped your husband’s lips, “Why did he even make such a ridiculous request?” You giggled lightly, shaking your head claiming that it was all right. You love cooking, especially for your in-laws. They just love and appreciate everything you prepare for them so you are very grateful when they make such requests. “Do you need help?” 

A smile escaped your lips, nodding cutely. He had to gush at your reaction before excusing himself to change so he could help you. Yuta is an apprentice in the kitchen, you knew that even before you married him. He didn’t even know how to peel onions when you first asked him to help cook but he had some improvements over time so this should be fine. 

The black tiger shrimps were so plump that made you giddy. This will be a great meal to do. With the help of the internet, you search for a great recipe that would enhance the seafood and would be easy to make. You decided to make Grilled Black Tiger Shrimp Cheese with some yogurt ice cream for dessert.  

Since Yuta isn’t here yet, you decided to peel the onions first after you placed the ice cream in the freezer and chilled the fruits you will be using later. “What should I do first?” Yuta asked, eyeing the plump shrimps.  

“Can you please cut the horns of the shrimp?”

“The horns?” he repeated, scissors at hand while checking one of the shrimps. “What horn? I don’t know them.” He kept on watching the shrimp, turning it to point at the tail. “Is this it?” 

You shook your head, “The one by the head.” But he kept on surveying the shrimp, checking it up and down while whispering horns. When he pointed at something sharp by the head, you nodded. Yuta was so careful in handling the shrimp, cutting the sharp horn on top of the seafood. “Can you also remove the shrimp's guts?” You asked while cutting the onions thinly. 

The guy winced, “Oh my God.” he muttered under his breath which made you laugh. You knew that it was a challenge for him but you don’t want to ruin his focus and determination in getting the inside of the shrimp. Yuta had always hated slimy stuff like this but with the determination in his eyes, you wanted to see how far he could do this seemingly impossible task for him. “Do we have gloves?” 

You pointed at the drawer and he quickly took a plastic glove, putting it gently on his hands while staring at the shrimp. He started picking up one of the huge shrimps, cutting the belly, and checking the inside. “It’s that brown thing. You can just pull it out.” By now you were just watching him struggling with the shrimp while whispering to himself. He kept on rubbing his gloved thumb and pointer finger while separating the shrimp, making you giggle. 

He started looking at you, smiling lightly. He even giggled seeing how amused you were while watching him. “Love,” he whined before putting down the shrimp, “Can you do this for me?” The way your husband said those words with a slight smile on his face made your heart stammer hard on your chest. He’s so adorable. 

You walked to where he was, checking the shrimp he just dissected. “You did great but you almost minced the shrimp.” Yuta just gave you an embarrassed chuckle. 

Expertly, you sliced the belly of the shrimp before taking out the guts with a toothpick. “Wow,” Yuta mumbled beside you. “You are amazing.” You only gave him a small laugh. 

“Then can you continue cutting the paprika?” 

Immediately, he removed the plastic gloves and took the knife. You have to admit that Yuta’s cutting skills have improved. While you are removing the shrimp’s guts, you can hear the rhythmic sound of slicing against the chopping board. “Your knife skill is amazing. Have you been practicing?” Yuta laughed as the sound of the chopping board got louder. 

An expression of exclamation came to you as your husband laughed louder, “It’s funny.” You smiled. He’s easily amused by these things, probably at how free-spirited he was. It makes your heart chummy. 

Once done with the jumbo shrimps, you carefully place those on the baking pan. “They look like butterflies,” Your husband noted that made you smile. Why is he so creative? He asked you what to do next and instructed him to mix the vegetables with the butter in the bowl. A laugh went out of your lips when he started flexing his biceps while stirring the contents inside the bowl. He does know that he’s attractive. 

Yuta helped in smearing the mixture on top of the shrimp as you checked the oven. “Be careful,” he reminded as you put the pan inside the warm appliance. “Is there anything left?” You checked the rice cooker and then the freezer. 

“The ice cream.” You claimed, picking the utensils you used. “But it can be done later, after eating.” 

Your husband smiled, “Pretty easy cooking.” You nodded. It’s just a matter of waiting for the dish to cook and then your dinner will be ready. But first, you have to wash the dishes and utensils you used. “I’ll do it.” He was quick to stand by the sink and do the dishes. You were suddenly thankful that Yuta came home early to help you. 

“I’ll just freshen up a bit.”   

He nodded as you made your way to the room. You took a quick shower and then changed to more presentable clothes. When you exited the room, the table was already set with plates and utensils. Your husband was seated on the couch, the television was on while he was messaging someone on his phone. You sat beside him and he put the device on the table, “Mom said they’re a block away.” You smiled, just in time for the shrimps to finish cooking. He then hugged you, “Are you hungry?” 

You shook your head. Although you can already smell the shrimps, you can wait for your in-laws. “Thank you for setting the table and cleaning the dishes.” 

Yuta laughed, “You already cooked, I should do the other things right?”

“But you came home from work and helped in cooking instead of resting.”

The guy smiled, pulling her closer for a tighter hug. “I love helping you in the kitchen. Also, hanging out with you is my rest.” You smiled at that. He is such a romanticist. “Just like hugging you now is my rest.” He playfully kissed your cheek then the side of your neck. Yuta did the same to the other side that made you giggle, complaining that it tickles but he kept doing it with a laugh. 

A knock on the door can be heard, his parents are here. You tried to push him to open the door for them but he didn’t let go of you and kept on nibbling your neck. “Yuta, your parents…” 

It sounded like a whine but the guy just laughed, “Let them wait outside for a bit.” The playful kisses become supple sucks that earned a moan from you, “I’ll just have a quick taste of my dessert later.”