#Motherfucker had pancakes and eggs

[possumsinpeoplesuits]

Just so y'all know, it's always okay to make fun of bootlicker imitation yeehaw.

If some lifted truck in the city only thing country about them is the country club all hat no cattle motherfucker wearing clean boots who can't handle anything spicier than a saltine with social circle with an much diversity as a pack of printer paper and a hard on for police intervention starts talking about living in the country, you do what I do:

Give them weathering tips for their LARPing gear and point them in the direction of some acting lessons, because they're not convincing anyone.

Every time the southern US comes up, 90% of the insults are just making fun of the poor and the disenfranchised as if the people hunting squirrel in trailer parks while leaving the expensive private school vanity ranch estate folks completely untouched.

Now go on, do your duty for Queen (the band) and country (Dolly Parton) and heckle those fuckers like you're Statler and Waldorf from the god damn Muppet show because that's the amount of respect they deserve.

[boowritess]

bonus part 2

simon can't cook-

okay no he CAN. okay? but it's very much- chop up whatever the fuck is in the fridge throw it in a pot, add as much meat he can find. then he's sorted. creating some sort of stew. but if not that. he thrives off 2 minute noodles.

listen, he's a working man. he can't be fucked thinking about what to make.

and if he needs to eat while not deployed and wants something, he'll get takeaways so he doesn't have to think about it.

and if ya'll are together - whatever you make... motherfucker eats that shit up like he's in a 5-star fucking reasturant.

you made scrambled eggs with bacon??? he's astounded. absolutely in love. has never been more satisfied in his life.

but oh lord. when he retires..

retired!simon fucking riley finds his fucking calling in cooking.

you no longer have to worry about cooking. nah-uh. not with this man who has all the time in the world to hone in on this new culinary world.

idk i just think it's so cute to think about simon going from beans on toast for breakfast to fluffy buttermilk pancakes or french toast with bacon a berry compote.

then for dinner; it's suddenly a whole line of sushi with all your favourites, dumplings to follow and a beef udon recipe dish. or maybe it's a simple roast - however, a perfectly seasoned meat has been sitting for a while in the oven for so long that when you cut into it, it's juicy and tender. and simon fucking beams at the faces you make.

dessert is a whole other game that simon fucking mastered. seriously. because he's placing down a skillet brownie, topped with ice cream and cream. And when you put a spoon into it, it fucking drips with chocolate ya'll.

just rahhhh retired!simon that turns into chef!simon. who just spoils you day and night with food. who gains the ability to make whatever dish you want, whenever you want. 3am and you want a grilled cheese? he can whip it up in seconds and it'll taste like the most gourmet grilled cheese you have EVER had.

btw, i'm torn between making him a gordon ramsay in the kitchen or him being the complete opposite and being so sweet and patient with you when you want to help him.

WAIT- speaks like gordon ramsay but treats you softly. like, you're not cutting with the knife correctly you fucking donkey. but instead of taking it off you, he presses up behind you, gently cups your hands with his and shows you how to do it safely. and he's speaking so sweetly and softly. a stark contrast to when he called you a fucking donkey - but hey you'll get your bite back. ;)

a/n: i can't fucking breathe this was so funny to write. i'm sorry idk why he called u a donkey. i'm fucking hungry if it wasn't obvious with this post.

[halfsizehellboy]

listen. listen to me. yeah sure the shredded abs are hot but they aren't a healthy body fat amount. but! i had a fucked up thought. does worst wolverine look like he was letting himself eat. motherfucker. look me in the eyes. post movie era where he gets back to 2000s wolvie beefcake (thicker than fucking bricks) because he's actually remembering/allowing himself/being forced to eat regularly (you can't tell me after 200 fucking years of his endurance of bullshit that he knows exactly how little he can eat and be functional)(wade is a shit cook other than breakfast food and those can be fattier and higher in calories and protein, esp what im thinking wade likes to make: pancakes and waffles and eggs and bacon, that's a good value meal right there)

[m1dnyt3-w0lf]

Chapter 2: Settling In

Word count: 3,350

Ch 1

   I awaken to sunlight in my eyes, making the back of my eyelids burn red. I blink my eyes open, squinting against the bright sunlight peeking through the white blinds on the window. I take in a long, deep breath as I sit up in bed. I rub my eyes and look around. The room I was in was completely bare, save for the bed I laid on, the pillow and blanket I was using, and my duffle bag that lay on the floor by the bed. Was this my room? When did I walk into the apartment?

   How the hell did I get here? I think as I start to slip off the bed. I feel the cold wood floor against my socks and shiver. At least I was still in last night's clothes. The cold floor was something I needed to get used to, though. I quickly start to dig into my bag, grab my chanclas, and slip them on.

   Better. I sigh in relief and go to take the first step when there's a knock at my door. I let out a yell and jumped backward, almost falling back onto my bed in the process.

   "I didn't mean to scare you, I was checking to see if you were awake." Miguel's voice came, muffled and soft by the door. I take a moment to calm my beating heart before walking over and opening the door. How tall was he?!

   Motherfucker is taller than the damn doorway! I saw his jaw twitch but thought nothing of it.

   "Uh, no, it's fine. How…how did I get to bed last night? I don't remember." I ask him, looking back towards my tousled bed.

   "I carried you up."

   "You…what?"

   "I carried you up. You were sleeping, and I didn't want to wake you." He said simply, moving away from the door and down the hall. "Breakfast is ready if you're hungry."

   I hurried after him, closing my room door after me. Not that it mattered much right now, anyway. It's not like I had things to hide from him.

   "Wait, what? Hold on, backtrack there, sir." This made him halt and look at me with a small hint of surprise on his face. I halted as well, not even realizing the term I had used. "What do you mean you carried me? You could have woken me up, surely, I must've weighed too much."

   Ah, there it is, the insecurity. Will I ever be free from you? I think bitterly. I made sure my emotions stayed clear from my face, however. I watched Miguel's gaze soften for a moment.

   Maybe a trick of the light?

   "Of course you don't. You weighed like nothing." He said, reassurance in his tone. I gave him a skeptical look.

   "You're lying to me." I knew he had to be lying. He raised an eyebrow, unamused. Seemed to be his signature look, didn't it?

    "Are you really doubting me? You said it yourself last night, I look like a gym rat." Damn bastard, throwing that in my face.

   "Well…looking like one and being one are two different things."

   "That so?"

   "Y-yeah." Miguel was nothing but a flash in my eyes. I screamed as he swiftly scooped me off my feet and carried me with no falter in his step to the kitchen. He then sat me on a chair and set a plate of eggs, bacon, and sausage links in front of me with a smaller plate of pancakes. I blink, dumbfounded and overwhelmed by the act and the smell of food.

   "Eat." He commanded, and I had no choice but to pick up the fork he handed me and slowly eat away at the food in front of me. My eyes watched him as he moved back to the stove and started to serve himself, piling a lot on his plate. He sat and started eating as well. His breathing never once labored or faltered. It was silent for a few clicks until I swallowed my bite and spoke.

   "Do I weigh anything to you?" I asked quietly, embarrassment coloring my cheeks. Miguel simply smirked and shrugged.

   "Not a thing." I pressed my lips together and went back to eating in silence. It was…weird. I've never been carried by anyone other than my dad when I was younger. Then, here comes Miguel, carrying me like I weigh nothing more than a kitten. I tried not to delve into how that made me feel.

   I take my phone out of my pocket and pull up Google. I needed to start my job search. I pulled up a map of the area, taking note of the nearby stores. I distractedly shove food into my mouth, eyes glued to my phone as I planned my route for the day.

    I can start with that sandwich shop two blocks from here. Then I can move to the convenience store across the street, and it looks like there's a gas station two blocks away from those. Maybe I can stop by that antique shop and-oh, is that a bakery?

   "Okay," Miguel started, irritation deeply set into his voice. I froze and looked at him, my egg-filled fork halted mid-air as my mouth hung open to take the bite.

   "We should probably set ground rules and other things." Miguel said, glaring at me. I set my fork down and met his eye.

   "Uh, okay?"

   "We'll take turns on setting a rule, and we'll discuss it. If we both agree on the rule, we'll set it in."

   "Sounds fair. Care to go first since it was your idea?" I nod to him, setting my phone down and giving him my full attention. He seemed to sit up straighter when my eyes went from my phone to him. Weird.

   "First of all, no electronics during meals." I knew I looked offended.

   "No electronics?"

   "Yes, no electronics."

   "Why?"

   "In today's day and age, we stare at screens all day. A meal should be enjoyed without a distraction." He said simply. I cross my arms and lean back in my chair.

   "That's a load of bs. I don't agree with that rule."

   "Why not?"

   "Because it's ridiculous! It's just a phone!" I tried to reason.

   "If it's just a phone, then you shouldn't be so bothered by the rule." He sassed. I narrowed my eyes on him.

   "What's next, you're going to say no food in the room?"

   "Not a bad rule."

   "No!" He chuckled softly at my state. I huffed, rubbing my eyes with a groan.

   "Okay, okay, fine. No electronics during meals." I glare at him in defeat. He looked back with a hint of pride. Oh, how I wanted to wipe that look off his face.

   "What's your suggestion?" He asked. I took a moment to think.

   “No set chores. We see something that needs to be done, and we'll do it. No taking turns, no ‘this chore is mine, this chore is yours.’” I told him. It was a method I remembered a friend and her roommate used, and she had told me it worked well. Miguel leaned back and raised an eyebrow.

   “That so?” He asked. I nodded, doubling down.

   “Indeed.” Miguel only shrugged.

   “Very well.”

   And we continued like that. We took turns setting rules and agreeing or disagreeing with said rules. Some we trashed, others we compromised, most we agreed on. Though, I had to admit, it felt like some of the rules were stupid. Miguel got his ‘no food in the rooms’ rule, but in return, I had my ‘no guests without approval’ rule. I could tell in his eyes that he thought my rule was idiotic, but I found it necessary. The last thing I wanted was to exit my room in pajamas just to walk into a kitchen with a stranger.

   He had added an ‘always knock’ rule and a ‘dim lighting’ rule. Now the knocking I agreed to, but the dim lighting was very weird and was definitely in call for an explanation.

   “Dim lighting? What do you mean?” I asked, pushing my now empty plate aside. Miguel peered at me over his nearly empty glass of milk. Somehow, this simple act of drinking milk reminded me a lot of my dad. He did like to drink a tall glass of milk no matter what time of day it was. I tried to gulp down the lump in my throat caused by the sudden hit of homesickness.

   Miguel seemed to be turning over my words. His dark eyes bore into my own blue ones. The hand holding his glass gently swirled the milk in it. I could see the wheels turning in his head as his face remained expressionless. Anxiety began to build up in my gut and make me squirm. I began to twist my fingers together and direct my eyes away from his stare. As soon as I did, I noticed him move in my peripheral and quickly looked back at him. I was shocked to see him moving with my gaze.

   What is his deal? I wondered as nerves and anxiety ate me from the inside-out. I gulped and cleared my throat before speaking.

   “Miguel, you don-”

   “I have sensitive eyes.” He interrupted. I blinked, shocked to have received an answer. He waited for a few moments before speaking again.

   “Bright lights hurt my eyes, which is why you'll find the lights on the lowest setting and blackout curtains on every window save your room.” He started with a lazy wave of his glass. My eyes flicked at the movement, then back up at him. I let his words roll around my mind. Sensitive eyes were nothing new to me. Hell, my own dad had sensitive eyes as well. He wore sunglasses whenever he was out during the day.

   “That makes sense. I'll be sure to grab some blackout curtains for my room as well.” He seemed to be taken aback by that.

   “You don't have to.”

   “Oh but I want to. Besides, I like my darkness.” I say with a shrug. What I thought to be a look of gratitude washed over Miguel's features.

   “Thank you.” He lifted his glass to me slightly before downing the rest of his milk. I couldn't help but chuckle.

   “No problem, really.” I gave him a smile, one that he returned with a light tilt of the corner of his mouth. I opened my mouth to speak when, suddenly, a Ding! noise filled the room. Miguel's face hardened immediately as his eyebrows furrowed and he looked at his…what the fuck is that? The band of what I assumed was a watch was nothing but a solid metal band wrapping around his wrist with that singular square screen that glowed and blinked a neon orange color.

   I couldn't help but stare as Miguel tapped the orange LED screen to stop the noise and blinking light. Miguel got up and placed his dishes in the sink, giving them a quick rinse before moving out of the kitchen.

   “I'll wash those when I get back, work calls for me.”

   “Oh, okay.” I say absent-mindedly. I was still trying to wrap my head around the watch. Miguel paused at the kitchen entrance and turned to look at me.

   “Do you need a ride anywhere?” He asked. This caused my brain to finally jumpstart and get those wheels turning.

   “Oh! Uh, no, thank you. I'll be fine. Besides, I need to learn my way around these streets.” Miguel didn't look convinced.

   “This is New York, not your Beverly Hills red carpet.” I scoffed.

   “What makes you think I lived in Beverly Hills?” Miguel gave me a once over before raising a brow. I gave him an offended look. Miguel started to walk away.

   “Wait here.” He said. I start to rise from my chair.

   “What? Hey, wait a minute you can't just-”

   “I said, ‘Wait. Here.’” He commanded, appearing back from around the corner and pointing at the floor. I immediately sat back down at his command, shocking myself in doing so. He watched for a moment before nodding his head and stalking off. His footsteps softly echoed down the hallway, leaving me to my bewilderment.

   What the hell just happened? I thought, slowly blinking as I looked at the spot Miguel had left. My cheeks begin to flush with embarrassment as the realization of what happened hit me. Ugh, he probably thinks I'm some kind of weirdo now. I groan and place my head in my hands. How could I react like that? Why did I react like that? Why was I so quick to follow his order? I groaned and placed my head in my hands. This was embarrassing! Within the first twenty-four hours, we had an argument and an awkward interaction.

   That bastard probably meant for that to happen. An impulsive thought threw into the pile of many others. I froze as I processed the thought. A scowl began to chase the flush from my cheeks as I whipped my head up and glared where he stood. How dare he?! I cross my arms and begin to tap my fingers on my arm, grumpy as this thought melted into my system.

   “Oh, sure, make fun of me just because you think I come from some bougie family, why don't you?! The fucking nerve!” I huff, mumbling under my breath. Eventually I hear Miguel's footsteps and I wait expectantly. He walks back into view, eyes moving from his weird watch to me.

   “I've asked a friend to drive you around where you need to go. Her name's Jessica.” He tells me, basically leaving no room for argument. I scoff.

   “I don't need a ride, I'm perfectly capable of walking.” Miguel raised a brow.

   “Really?” He rumbled lowly, lips barely moving as he spoke. I gulp, feeling my heart take a few extra beats upon hearing his voice.

   “Yes.” I say in an unconvincing voice that cracked and made me sound like I squeaked. I cleared my throat but didn't try to convince Miguel any further.

   “Fine, I'll drive around with Jessica.” I huff out, looking away.

   “Good.” Miguel said with a satisfactory tone. I sigh and look at him again, eyes immediately meeting his again. What's with this guy and eye contact?

   “How long until she's here?”

   “Five minutes. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be getting ready.” He nodded his head and left before I could say a word.

   “Alright.” I called out to him, picking up my phone and checking the stores I planned to visit. I chewed my lip. I didn't want to bother someone by making them drive me around when I could easily walk. Maybe just three stores? Or four? No, that would be pushing my luck, surely. I should go for the ones further away, right? I mean, it only makes sense if she's driving me. Then, maybe after she drops me off, I can walk to the closer ones. Miguel wouldn't know the difference. I smile at the plan I made.

    I'll show him for thinking I need to be babysat. I can take care of myself. I think triumphantly, bookmarking the places I want to be taken to.

   A knock sounds at the door after some time. I called out to Miguel that I had the door as I walked up to it. I open it and smile at the woman standing there. God's, she was gorgeous! She had smooth, richly dark skin; soft, brown eyes; and an afro held back with a red headband. She wore a red and black biker's outfit and sunglasses with bright yellow lenses.

   And very much pregnant, oh my gods. I blink in surprise but give her a warm smile. The woman gives me a once over and offers her own warm smile.

   “You must be Miguel's new roommate.” She said her voice was strong and confident. She sounded like she was speaking in a soft melody meant to lull someone to sleep. “I'm Jessica.”

  “Oh, hi, I'm Ashley.” I say, moving aside to let her in. “Come in!”

   “Thank you.” She walks in and picks a comfortable armchair to sit in, letting out a soft, relieved groan.

   “Would you like something to drink? Water? Coffee?” I ask immediately.

   “No, no, I'm fine, thank you.” She says with a playful tone and dismissive wave. “I just love this armchair.”

   “Okay, well, I'll let Miguel know you're here.”

   “Oh, I'm sure he already knows.” Jessica says with a chuckle. I only nod and head down the hallway leading to my room and where I assume his room was as well. I suppose we did talk pretty loudly, but I felt the need to tell him anyway. As I walked down the hall, I looked at the few paintings that lined either wall. They were…odd to say the least. To be fair, I was no renowned artist, but these pieces reeked of chaos and nonsense. I couldn't even call it abstract; they were otherworldly.

   I walked up to my room and paused. I looked at the remaining doors down the hall. It occurred to me I was never told where his room was. My eyes went from one closed door to the next as I tried to decide on what to do. There were three more doors, so really, I could be wrong twice. I scowled at the thought. Ugh, imagine being wrong twice? How embarrassing would that be?! He wouldn't let me live it down if his current behavior was any indication. I could already hear the teasing lilt of his annoyingly hot voice.

   Whoa, where did that come from? I shake my head to rid myself of the thought. He's my roommate. I shouldn't think of him like that. I quickly changed the course of my train of thought to my current dilemma.

   Do I call out his name and hope he hears me? I hesitated. Did I really want to risk Jessica hearing me sound like a doofus? Imagine not knowing your own apartment! Luckily, I only had to debate for a moment more when the decision was made for me. Miguel walked out of the last door down the hall wearing a deep blue, three-piece suit.

   Right. Go figure.

   However, I barely process the location of his room as I'm floored by just how utterly handsome he is in that suit. The dark color of the fabric brightened the dull brown of his skin and gave him a more lively look. His hair was brushed back, causing his wild curls to be hidden from sight. He looked so different from the way I saw him last night and during breakfast. Curls haywire from bedhead, loose-fitted shirt and pajama bottoms, tired but attentive eyes-

   Focus, damn it! Stop staring! And, as if sensing me, Miguel's eyes immediately met mine. A surprised blush colors my cheeks as my eyes widen.

   “O-oh, uh, haha, J-J-J-” I start to stutter out. I stop myself and take a deep breath, closing my eyes and turning my head away from Miguel. Gods, I hate this stutter.

   “Jessica,” I pronounce slowly before speaking at my usual pace, “is here.” I informed him before looking at him again. Miguel is silent for a beat. Then two. Then three. His expression seemed unreadable, but I swore I saw something processing in that brain of his. Maybe a trick of the light?

   Finally, he nods. “Thank you. You should start getting ready.”

   I look down at myself, still wearing the clothes I had left California in. Gross.

   “Yeah, I'll just be a few.” I tell him, turning to head to my room.

   “And Ashley?” He calls out, his deep voice holding that authoritative tone. I pause and look back at him.

   “Yeah?”

   “No funny business. Jessica will take you where you need to go.” He said pointedly. How…how did he know? I quickly school my features to a small smile and roll my eyes.

   “I know, I know. Thanks, dad.” I say the last part sarcastically and enter my room without another word.

Translation

Ch 3

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Tags: @crocs-blogs @madschiavelique @arithestrawberry @eveandtheturtles @theshrikeandcanary @obi-mom-kenobi @thelaundrybitch @symmetricalkazekage

[moneyholder]

Gin rummy x Sweet Black girl reader!

So. This is my first time EVER writing on tumblr. I’m excited!

I haven’t seen ANY tumblr’s of Gin Rummy and I LOVE him. Idk why. But this may be bad. But tell me some things and I promise I’ll get better!

TW: Gunshot, guns, foul language, mention of death, gunshot wound, and children being traumatized.

Not smut, but definitely not fluff.

Gin rummy, your boyfriend. One of the best boyfriends you could ask for, he acts all hard in front of people but he is such a softie for you and only you. Whenever your in his presence he melts, and he’s a lot nicer. He listens to you, like a dog.

"Mornin’ Rummy. You woke up a bit late so I’m cooking breakfast today. Anything specific you want?" You asked him will putting the bacon in the oven.

"Mmm.. Pancakes." He said in his groggy voice that gave you butterflies. "Uh-uh. No pancakes, you always put way too much Suva’ and you end up all over the place. How about sausage instead?"

"Mm." Was all he said as he sunk back into your neck and taking in your sweet natural smell.

Knock! Knock!

"You get that Rummy?" He nodded his head and rubbed his eyes to wake himself up before opening the door.

"Oh snap! Ed Wuncler the third." Ed? The hell is he doing here?

"My man, Gin Rummy. What’s good baby?"

"It’s all good man, just about to eat breakfast. Come on in."

"I know dat smell from a mile of damn way! Y/n yo ass in here!?" Sometimes Ed annoyed you but most of the time he was cool.

"What’s good Ed." You sapped him up. "Kids..? Since when did you have children?" You asked tilting your head to look at a boy with an Afro and another boy with cornrows."

"Man do I look like I got kids!? These little motherfuckers need some help finding a killer or sum shit." You nodded your head as Ed walked away to talk to Rummy. You decided to talk to them.

"Hey boys, what’s your names?" You got down to their level and gave them a small smile.

"Huey."

"Riley, AKA young reezy."

"Nice to meet you Huey, and young Reezy. Would you boy like some breakfast? It’s Eggs, Bacon, and sausage. And if not theirs English muffins and some peach jelly."

The boys shook their head no at the same. You were so nice to them and your smile was so bright and filled with nothing but care just from seeing two boys you didn’t even know.

You set up plates for Ed and Rummy as the boys and Ed were talking.

"Look, we have exactly 4 hours and 45 minutes to find the X-Bic killer. Can you help us do it?" You heard Huey say as you sit a plate of food down in front of Ed.

"I’ll be dead on his ass Like Spenser: For rucking Hire. I’ll hunt him down and feed him his own testicles, and, I’ll do it in a jiffy. And I don’t care if his momma there his grandmama, innocent bystanders, Lilly kids, babysitters, bill collectors, whatever. I’ll leave his whole block filled with hot brass if I have to. And you know why? Because I just don’t t give a fuck!"

You sighed and looked at him "Try not to get so upset. Eat your food so you don’t go out on an empty stomach, ok?" You have another one of those sweet passion filled smiles to him that made his stomach do front lips and somersaults.

"Yeah- I’m just- sorry." You smiled and gave an apologetic look to the boys. So decent for someone like him.

In the car.

You sat in between Huey and Riley while you watched Rummy load his gun.

"So y’all was in Iraq together?" Riley asked rummy.

"Yeah, we was in Iraq." Rummy said back.

"What did y’all do?"

"We was looking for weapons of mass destruction."

"…Did you ever find ‘em?"

"You know god damn well we ain’t find ‘em!" He yelled at Riley. You need to keep him in check.

"Rummy, chill. He’s a kid ok. Remember what we talked about. Kids ask questions."

He sighed and shut his mouth. "I was looking for butches but they had carpet shut all over ‘em, and I couldn’t see what they looked like. All that was really exposed was their eyes and that wasn’t enough for me. Cuz you know, I’m looking at they eyes and they eyes be pretty and I take their carpet off and then I get a whole tragedy." Ed said.

And then rummy spoke again. "Well no, we didn’t fine ‘em but I always say "The absence of evidence is not the evidence of absence."

"What?" Huey said.

You sighed and tried explaining yourself. "What he means is, simply because you don’t have evidence that something does exist doesnt mean you have evidence something doesn’t exist."

"What?" Riley said

"What country you from?" Rummy spoke.

“What?" Riley said the same thing, again.

"What ain’t no country I heard of, they speak English in what?"

"What?"

"English motherfucker do you speak it!?" Rummy screamed in the kids face.

"Yeah.."

"So do you understand the words I’m saying to you!?"

"Y-yeah."

"Rummy please, you’re scaring him." You chimed in ad you put your hand on Riley’s shoulder.

"You ok Riley?” You said to him and he just looked at you.

"… What?"

You sighed.

At the store.

"Aye! Slow your role G! You guys have to pay first!" The cashier said as you looked in your purse for your wallet.

“Damn! Chill out Aladdin Hussein! You know I’m good for it!"

Rummy put his hand your arm to stop you from getting your wallet out of your purse. You looked up at him, confused. He might pay for it.

….

"Look! He got a weapon!" Ed yelled when he saw the cop.

"Hold on! Wait a minute put the gun down!" You saw Rummy play along.

You stepped back from them and up to the children standing in front of them. You obviously weren’t their mother but it was instinct.

After yelling from across the room you heard Huey from behind you. "There is no weapon! They’re robbing the store!" You did t say anything, you didn’t want rummy to go to prison but you also did t wanna get in trouble so you did t say anything.

You watched them all scream at each other as you made sure those kids stayed tight behind you and you closed your eyes as they all argued.

Untill you heard gunshots. You moved as quick as lightning picking up Huey and Riley and setting them behind an isle in the gas station making them stay down.

You loooked past the isle and saw rummy getting blown across the counter and Ed running around. "Rummy! Both of you stay here!" You ran out from the isle to get to your boyfridnyou were so close.

You fell on your stomach. "… God, it’s so warm, like… water on my stomach. It’s so warm… and gooey… and red… and red. It’s fucking red. I just got fucking shot!

Soon the warmth stopped as you held your stomach while screaming in pain.

“Shit shit shit! Cmon- we gotta- we gotta call the ambulance!" You heard rummy yell to ed as you layed on the floor untill feeling him scoop you up and bring you behind a counter.

"Man is you crazy!? We cal the ambulance we gon’ be in trouble too!" Ed yelled back to him.

"You’ll- you’ll be fine- God- fuck! He put his hand on your stomach and pressed on it as you breathed heavily. Everything went black.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

You woke up in the hospital to hear light snoring on your lap and you saw rummy, Huey, and Riley all asleep on your hospital bed. Ed was on the couch.

You ran your hands on Rummy’s hair. And he slowly woke up. “You’re awake.” He said to you. “I can see that.” You said back smiling. “How the hell are you still smiling? You just got shot baby. And you’re smiling?"he asked as he held your hand. "Just because I’m smiling doesn’t mean I’m happy about what happened. I’m just happy we all got out alive and no one died.” He sighed and put his head back on your lap.

“Were the boys ok?” You asked you wondere how Huey and Riley felt. Their just kids seeing all of this. “Huey was giving me a whole lecture about it like he a teacher and Riley thought you were gonna die.” He said looking at them.

“Good thing you didn’t, right?”

“Right.”

[paisholotus]

Ch.8

Lucious Pov

I shifted awake and looked down seeing Peaches laying on my chest. I tried getting up and moving her over, because I honestly didn't want to over step boundaries by staying in the same bed.

She whined clutching on my shirt, "No, don't go." She said, with sleep in her voice.

I got back on the bed and pulled her back onto my chest. I ain't never cuddled no one before so I was nervous sleeping in the same bed as her. She smelled so good, and she looked good as fuck wearing my clothes. I fought the urge to grip her ass.

I honestly would sleep in the guest room, because I wouldn't want her to think I don't respect her space. Siya was pure hearted, I didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable in anyway.

She wrapped her legs around me and snuggled into my neck, humming in content. She was pretty much bear hugging me, but I liked the feeling of her thick thighs being wrapped around me. Not in a sexual way, she felt warm and it made me happy she felt safe with me like this.

I got comfortable and closed my eyes drifting off into peace.

-Time Skip-

I woke up and my body felt stiff as fuck. I yawned and stretched checking the time which read 8:30. My eye's widened and I quickly turned to look at the side of my bed empty. "shit." Siya stayed over here the whole night, Tisha gonna be talking shit man. Plus her parents probably gonna be mad, and not trust her with me anymore.

"Damn-." What the hell smelling so good? Unc don't be cooking me no breakfast.

I jumped out of bed and opened my door, and the smelled hit me in the face. It smelled good as hell in here, shit was making my stomach growl. Peaches had to still be here, I know Unc ain't cooking this good.

I walked downstairs hearing music softly playing, I looked around the corner and saw my Uncle and Peaches making breakfast laughing. It looked like she was making pancakes, and Unc was cooking bacon or sausage.

I walked over to them seeing them laughing they ass off, not even noticing I was in here. The way that this girl was in here cooking breakfast with my Uncle like they was family made me happy. My Uncle ain't never liked the girls I had, so for him to chopping it up in the kitchen wit her, there was sum special about this girl.

I pulled out the chair and sat at the kitchen island, smiling at the two. She turn around and she smiled softly at me, putting the bowl in the sink. "Hey, how you sleep?" She asked, me.

"I slept good. Best sleep I've had in awhile." She nodded, smiling biting her lip. She placed a plate in front of me that had pancakes, bacon, eggs, and sausage, and toast.

"Damn, this alot." I said, chuckling. Unc came and sat beside me putting his plate down, gulping down some orange juice. "I wanted to make y'all breakfast. And Lucious you don't have to worry about my parents, I called them when I woke up." I nodded and smiled thanking her for the breakfast.

Unc bit into his pancakes and Hummed, "Damn, this good. You gon come cook for me, girl. Because this nappy headed negro can't cook for shit." I smacked my teeth, flipping him off.

Lil mama held a hand over her mouth and snorted. I glared at both of them. Putting a piece of bacon in my mouth, "I can cook. I just don't do it often." I said.

Unc looked at me dead in my face and laughed saying, "Yo mother fucking ass would burn water. Shit you barely cook noodles right. Almost burned down our fucking house, cuz you forgot to put water in the damn bowl." He said.

Peaches busted out laughing leaning back in her chair, holding her mouth trying to stop herself from crying.

Oh so motherfuckers wanna clown on me early this morning. I frowned at both of them drinking my orange juice. "Man, Fuck Y'all."

Unc looked at me with a 'who you talking to' face. I rolled my eyes aand looked at Peaches who was smirking at me, and leaned over the island. "Wouldn't you like to." She said, and gave me a quick peck on the lips. Quickly running to the back laughing.

I finished my food and placed my dishes in the sink with Unc yelling down the hall, "Y'all quit that nasty shit in my house." And went back to reading his paper.

I walked upstairs to my room to see lil mama getting stuff ready to take a shower. She looked so damn sexy in my clothes. I won't trying to be a pervert, but every little thing she did turned me on.

It could be her smile, her laugh, but it was mostly her ass. Like GodDayum I ain't never seen an ass like hers. She knocked her towel on the floor and bended down to pick it up, and fuck that thang was poking.

I licked my lips and cleared my throat making my presence known. She smirked at me and took her two fingers making an 'Come here' motion. I bit my lip and walked towards her, she gave me lil fuck me eyes and chuckled running into the bathroom closing and locking the door. And laughed loudly behind the door.

Oh so she wanted to play? Ight, let's play then. I knocked on the door and said, "keep on playing wit me baby." And walked away from the door.

-Time Skip-

Nalae's Pov

I walked out the bathroom with my clothes on I had on yesterday, I was thankful Rodney stuck them in the dryer. I looked for Lucious but I didn't see him. I went to sit down on the couch with Rodney and he said he had a date tonight, I was happy for him for him. Been telling him that he needs to finds himself a date.

I loved the relationship him and I had. He was like my actual Uncle, he gave good advice, he made sure I was straight when I came over. Him and my parents got along nicely.

He told me Lucious went to get something for him. We sat on the couch watching Martin laughing, Cole and Tommy had to be my favorite characters.

Unc sat back down on the couch and handed me a sandwich and chips. We ate and continued to watch TV. Lucious walked through the door and sat down beside me but didn't acknowledge me. I frowned and tried to get his attention, but he continued to ignore me. I lifted my eyebrow and smirked nodding, so that's what he wanna do? OK cool.

I sat my plate and drink and coffee and grabbed his arm but he jerked it away from me. I looked at Unc who looked at me laughing then we looked back at Lucious. He glared at us and got ready to get up but I grabbed him around his waist smiling at him. "Awe you mad, bubba?" I teased grabbing his chin making him look at me.

Us teasing him even more must have made him more irritated, because he snatched my hand away from his face. Unc smacked his teeth and said, "damn, nephew, don't be like that."

I cackled and grabbed his chin again. I got on his lap and kissed all over his face making him crack a smile. And he softly chuckled with me. He pecked my lips two more times. "You mad at your, Peaches?" I asked, him. He shook his head, kissing my forehead. "Nah, I was just playing." I nodded, and playfully pointed my finger in his face telling him not do that no more.

Unc pointed out that Lucious should probably take me home. I nodded and we got up and I went to his room to grab my bag, and walked back to the front.

I hugged Unc bye and walked out the house walking to the car. Lucious opened the car door for me and helped me get in. He got in the car and we drove off. On my way home we listened to his music some more, and I've told Lucious that I can see him definitely being a big Artist one day.

He was so talented. He had asked me a couple of times to be on a track with him, and I was very hesitant. Because don't get me wrong I know I can blow, I got some pipes. But actually being on a song with him made me nervous.

I smiled to myself feeling Lucious squeeze my hand, while the other held onto the wheel. His focus stayed on the road, as he continued to rap his lyrics with a big smile on his face.

We began to rap the chorus part and he turned to look at me for a second giving me a genuine smile, before turning back to look at the road. We pulled up to my house and I rapped the last bit of the song before it went off. I turned to look at Lucious who was staring me in the eyes, with a blank expression.

"Well, I had a good time. Despite the circumstances." I chuckled. He cracked a small smile but didn't say anything. "You gon call me later?" I asked, him. But he continued to stare at me with a smile on his face, not saying anything.

I frowned a little and rubbed his cheek trying to get him to say something, but he wouldn't. He tend to do that often when he was with me. He would just stare at me and smile, not saying anything. I wouldn't say it made me uncomfortable, just....I ain't never had someone stare at me with such Love? I don't know maybe that's not the right word, but that's what it feels like.

Does Lucious love me? We've only been talking for 4 months. Is that too early to be falling in love with somebody?

I was so in my head I didn't fully notice that his hand had lifted my chin, and his nose was pressed against mine. He brushed his lips against mine and kissed me. But this wasn't like any of the kisses we've had before. It was soft and slow. His hands cupped my cheek and the side of my neck. I moaned into the kiss and wrapped my arms around his neck pulling him closer to me. He groaned with his had traveling down my side, gripping my hip.

He let go of the kiss and peck my lips a couple more times before looking into my eyes with a smile on his face. Lucious had the prettiest eyes and the most attractive smile I've ever seen. I pulled away a little bit feeling those butterflies again.

He chuckled reaching over to fix my necklace, and looked back at me. But his face went back to blank and he took a deep breath as if what he wanted to ask me weighed on him.

"Peaches i-i" He cut himself off and looked at me. I gave him a encouraging smile grabbing his hand.

"I want you to be mine." He said, slowly.

My heart felt like it picked up a little bit. But I held no expression on my face. "Really? Don't play wit me, Lucious? I said. Looking at him for sincerity.

He gave me a big smile placing his forehead against mine and kissed my lips again. But this time he slipped his tongue into my mouth, cupping my cheeks. He claimed my mouth and I let him, I moaned into the bliss of the kiss and gripped the back of his neck. He pulled away and pecked my lips again, my mind was clouded and I was flustered. I slowly opened my eyes and he was staring straight into mine.

"I was serious when I gave you that chain, I was serious about you when I took you out on them dates, and I was serious about you when I told you last night that I got you. Forever and always." He said, smiling at me.

This happy bubbly feeling popped up in my chest as I tried hard not to start cheesing. But I failed miserably. I gave him the biggest smile leaning back over kissing him. He chuckled into the kiss wrapping his arms around my waist. We pulled away and smiled at each other.

"Yeah, I'll be your girl." I said, pecking his lips again.

He looked at me with a serious face and pressed his forehead against mine and said, "I promise I ain't gon hurt you, Peaches. Imma do right by you." I smiled softly at him, and lifted up my pinky. He laughed and rolled his eyes grabbing my pinky wrapping his around mine and kissed my lips again.

We pulled away and decided it was time for me to go in the house. He got out and walked over to my side to help me out the car. He walked me to my door and told me he wanted to take me on a date tomorrow, which I told him was fine.

I opened my door and kissed him one more time before walking in, and watching him get back in the car and leaving. I closed the door and smiled to myself.

"I got boyfriend. I got a boyfriend." I sang lowly chuckling happily to myself.

[tealquacks]

They Share a Kitchen 4: Breakfast in Bed

Originally posted here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24317644/chapters/69731439

It’s been many months, I know, but I hope you all like this chapter! 

Remus knew he should get out of bed. 

Out of bed, down the stairs. 

Down the stairs and into the kitchen.

He owed Janus rabbit, and he wanted to talk to Logan.

Logan…

It had been a few days since they’d gathered ingredients, and they’d talked almost every single day since. They met in the kitchen. Talked at night. Sought one another out. But it would never last. Logan would say something about the light sides and then scurry away, or get all quiet if he thought he heard footsteps. It never felt like it did when they were alone, truly alone. 

He rolled over in bed, curled in on himself. 

Come on. Up, out of bed, down the stairs, into the kitchen, make something with rabbit, then find another reason to talk to Logan. Maybe they could find a good paella recipe. And that would get Logan to come into the kitchen and talk to him. He could talk to Janus, too, and cook as he did so.

Up, out of bed, down the stairs, into the kitchen.

Remus stared at the wall. 

Up, out of bed, down the stairs, into the kitchen. It was 7:30 am. Janus would be in the kitchen soon. And if he wasn’t in the kitchen before he left, he’d get that look from Janus, one of those looks that said ‘are you okay?’ And made him feel all queasy and miserable.

The long and short of his situation was that the bed was nice and soft, and he didn’t see a point in getting out of bed. Even though there was food to be made and conversations to be had. Remus sat up, but didn’t get out from under the covers.

He got like this sometimes. When was the last time? Remus looked down at his hands. Maybe he could paint his nails. In bed. Then he’d get up, out of bed, down the stairs, into the kitchen. What had he been—

—yes, when was that last time he couldn’t— right after Thomas decided to skip the fucking callback. He’d spent most of the wedding laying in bed, marinating in a horrid, heavy feeling that he couldn’t quite identify. It was like trying to pin a still flapping butterfly to a board. Remus flopped back onto bed.

Now it was 9:00 am. Where did that time go? He must’ve fallen back asleep, or zoned out. He sighed. At least he had a reason to feel heavy then. Now he was just being stupid.

“No, you feel heavy because he abandoned you,” a deep voice echoed, “like all the others.”

“Shut the fuck up, Orange,” Remus grumbled, “I’m tryna fucking sleep.”

“No you’re not.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Orange laid his hand on Remus’ head. It was freezing cold against his skin. He gently ran his fingers through the brown strands. They stayed like that for a few minutes, in a cold, uncomfortable silence.

“Green, you know they’ll never apologize to you,” Orange whispered, “they’ll never accept you. They’ll never stay by you. It’s a fact of life, it’s alright-”

The words drifted away as Remus shut his eyes, mind wandering far, far away. It left the room entirely- bed, stairs, kitchen, Logan- and found itself back at that night on the dock, Logan’s pale skin under bright moonlight. He’d offered him a castle, a cottage. He gave him a pearl. Had he kept that pearl? Or did he throw it away? 

Orange chuckled darkly, hand still in his hair. He pet him slowly, as if consoling a dying animal.

“You poor little creature.”

“I’ll kill you,” Remus growled.

“You can’t even get out of bed.”

“I’ll still kill you.”

It had been several days— four, maybe— since Logan and him dove into the cool black of the ocean. He returned to the dock just yesterday. Slow waves lapped against the shore, illuminating the night in a bright blue bioluminescence. If Logan had asked, he would’ve made him a cottage on the beach. He would’ve turned the black sand to glass. He would’ve destroyed it all. 

“You’ve let yourself change too much. Remember, Green,” Orange mumbled, playing with Remus’ hair, “you are nothing but one part to a whole, a scrap, a husk. You’re empty and hated, hated by Red, by Purple, by Indigo—“

Remus moved without thinking, hands wrapping fast around Orange’s throat, squeezing with whatever might he had. Orange toppled off of the bed, and Remus went with him, slamming his knees into Orange’s chest as his back hit the floor, hands clasped around his throat like a prayer.

“Don’t you fucking dare say anything about him you goddamn piece of shit,” Remus snarled,  "He is nothing like them— nothing like me! And that’s… that’s none of your business! That’s what it is! Do you hear me?”

Orange just grinned, his unreadable face flickering. Remus throttled him back and forth, slamming his head into the dirty floor of his room. Orange’s face never shifted. Still cold, unreadable. Remus dug his nails into his throat. His breath came in shallow puffs.

“Do you fucking hear me?”

Someone knocked on the door quietly. Janus, probably. Remus held fast to Orange’s neck.

“Do you hear me, motherfucker? He doesn’t hate me! HE DOESN��T HATE ME!” Remus screeched. All Orange did, the absolute bastard, was raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Look at that, I got you out of bed. You should thank me, Green.”

Remus punched him in the nose as hard as he could, a loud crack echoing through the room. Orange’s blood dyed his knuckles a shifting cascade of color. 

The door quietly creaked open.

“I heard something fall, and then yelling,” Logan began carefully. "I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Remus looked up from where he knelt on the floor, hands clasping at nothing but air. Cowardly bastard had up and vanished without a trace. Even the blood had vanished from his knuckles. Logan was still looking at him, tray in his hands, angelically haloed in the light of the hallway. Remus coughed, attempting (and probably failing) to not look like he had just tried to brutally murder someone.

“Hi, Logan, what’cha got there?”

“Janus said he didn’t see you at breakfast, so I, um. Grabbed some pancakes Virgil made, and made you a little plate. Are you alright?”

Remus stood, brushing dust off of his dirty pajama pants. He hadn’t washed them in… had he ever washed them? He sat back on the edge of the bed. 

“I’m perfectly peachy, Logan.”

Logan frowned. “It’s 9… 9 something. I didn’t check the time before I came up. But I thought you’d be hungry.”

Remus tilted his head, sloshed the sludge of his brain around trying to find coherent thought. The urge to scream at Logan welled up within him, a thick feeling in his throat as if he was about to puke up a torrent of slugs. He wanted to ask him for so many things- stay with him, hold him, tell him he doesn’t hate him. He gingerly pat his bed. 

Logan stepped inside of his room, closing the door behind him. Remus turned on the lights with a clap of his hands. Logan sat (on the bed,) facing him, and set the tray between them. There was a plate of pancakes— probably banana nut, knowing Virgil— as well as two glasses of water with lemon on the rim, and an orange. Two glasses of water.

“Were you planning on eating with me?” Remus asked quietly. Logan picked up one of the glasses.

“If you wouldn’t be averse to that,” he muttered. Remus snorted.

“You know I love spending time with you.”

Logan sipped his water, the slice of lemon bumping his glasses a little. Remus couldn’t help but stare. He wanted. He wanted. He didn’t know what it was, but whatever it was, he wanted. 

“How have you been?” Remus asked. Logan swallowed a mouthful of cold water. 

“Well. And you?”

Remus picked up the fork and knife on the tray, gingerly cutting into the stack of pancakes. He poked one with a fork, and lifted it to his mouth. Banana nut, just as he’d expected. He hated the taste of banana nut, but Logan didn’t know that. 

“Good, I’ve been doing good. I couldn’t get out of bed this morning, but besides that, I’m all good. I haven’t washed my sheets in close to twenty years and I’m so glad I’m not a human or else they’d smell absolutely horrible and be covered in dead skin.”

Logan looked down at the blanket. Remus chewed slowly.

“That’s okay,” Logan mumbled.

Remus chewed, then swallowed.

“Do you still have that pearl I gave you?” He asked.

Logan sipped his water. Remus’ heart started to pound.

“Do you still have that pearl I gave you?” Remus repeated. Logan lowered the glass from his lips, then nodded.

“Of course I do. It’s beautiful, Remus.”

“Just beautiful? No little scientific quip about pearls?”

Logan opened his mouth, then closed it. He cleared his throat.

“Cleopatra, according to legend, dissolved crushed pearls in vinegar to drink them. The pearls would dissolve in the vinegar, since pearls are 85-90% calcium carbonate, which is also the main component of snail shells, and eggs. Calcium carbonate is also suspected to be found on Mars.”

“Space oysters!” Remus said between bites of pancake, “speaking of Cleopatra, how has Roman been doing? Get it, since Cleopatra fucked Caesar and Caesar was Roman, though I doubt Roman is getting any. Did you know Cleopatra made a vibrator by sticking a bunch of bees in a dildo?”

The corner of Logan’s mouth twitched up.

“That is quite an interesting fact.” “So how is he? Roman, I mean.

Logan raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know, he’s been hanging out with Virgil a good deal. They were working together. I… don’t know if Roman is feeling any better, though. The two of them, surprisingly enough, seem to bring out the best and worst in one another. Roman makes Virgil brave, in an odd way.”

Remus nodded.

“I regret teaching him to cook.” 

“Who, Virgil?”

“Yes,” Remus said, “cooking’s my thing and I hate him so much and I hate Roman too, they left me, they hate me, and I hate them.”

Logan went silent.

“...Virgil made those pancakes. Do you want to move downstairs? We could make pancakes, and they wouldn’t be his.”

Remus nodded. 

“That sounds great! Are you sure the others won’t be there?”

“The kitchen has been mostly empty since Roman and Virgil’s little… escapade. It would be just the two of us.”

Remus stood, leaving the tray of food on the bed.

“Alright then! Race you to the kitchen!”

He lept off of his bed and burst through the door of his room, almost slamming into the wall before turning and running down the stairs on all fours. He toppled over his arms, and slid down the rest of the stairs on his back. His feet touched the floor, and he sprinted into the kitchen, only to find Logan already standing there.

“How the fuck?”

“I teleported,” Logan said, a small smirk lighting up his features. He still held the glass of water with a lemon slice on it, “we’re not real, remember?”

“You little shit,” Remus said with a smile. Logan raised his glass in a mock toast. Remus walked over to the cupboards, keeping his eyes on Logan the whole time. He wanted.

“The griddle is still out at least,” Remus observed, “Virgil never was one to clean up his own goddamn messes. Now sit down, unless you have an award winning pancake recipe!”

Logan sat, and said “your pancake recipe has won an award?”

Remus snorted.

“No, but Janus once told me it deserved an award.”

He knew the steps. Get the flour. Scoop some into a bowl, then baking powder, eggs, sugar… it felt like too much. He’d made it so many times. Now it felt like too much.

Logan stared at him.

“...do you wish for me to help you make them?”

“Yes, please,” Remus said, absolutely relieved, “get the flour.”

Logan stood from the table, and went over to the cabinet. He reached up, and Remus couldn’t help but stare at his arms as he got the milk and eggs out of the fridge.

“You should wear less clothes,” Remus said, “you have nothing to be ashamed of, really, you’re just as handsome as everyone else here.”

“Nobody else is here except you.”

“Are you saying I’m not handsome?” Remus teased, conjuring a bowl.

“I certainly am not.”

Logan pulled the flour down, as well as the baking powder. 

“Is there anything else we need from the cabinet?” He asked. Remus grabbed the milk, eggs and butter from the fridge.

“Salt and sugar, and the rest is moist ingredients!”

Remus used his fingers to squeeze 3 tablespoons of butter from the stick, watching Logan get all the ingredients lined up on the counter.

“How much of each ingredient do you need?”

“One point five cups flour, like, four teaspoons powder, tablespoon of sugar. You seem much more alive today, is that because the others aren’t around?”

Logan sighed.

“I constantly remind you that I have to keep up appearances in front of the others—“

“And I constantly tell you that you don’t have to listen to them. You can make them listen, too.”

Logan took out the measuring cups, starting to measure the ingredients. Remus melted the butter into the bowl with a snap of his fingers, then cracked the egg into the bowl.

“How would you suggest I go about making them listen?”

Remus giggled quietly.

“Patton’s afraid of death, right? Just threaten him. Say you’ll tear his throat out. Or stomp on his neck until he dies. And then when he comes back up you explain everything to him! Or you just scare him! Make your face all scary and spook him!”

Logan frowned.

“I don’t think that would do much for the situation, especially considering that Patton doesn’t listen to you because you scare him.”

“Have you tried asking Patton and the others to listen to you?” Remus asked, stirring the butter and eggs together. He wasn’t really focused on the recipe, just on Logan. That odd heaviness still lingered, but he tried to push past it.

“No, I don’t think so. If I did, it didn’t work.”

Remus sighed.

“My offer still stands, you know. A cottage, a castle, anything you want.”

Logan looked up at Remus, then back down at the measuring cups.

“I can’t, I’m sorry. With how much Thomas’ emotional state has been spiraling, I can’t leave him or the others unsupervised. Relations between the sides can move from arguing to breakdown inducing levels of tension.”

“When has that ever happened?”

Logan frowned. All of the ingredients sat neay measured in front of him, sat on the counter.

“Besides the memorable incidents concerning the wedding, Janus was the one who encouraged you to become more present in Thomas’ day to day life, was he not?”

Remus shrugged. He walked over to Logan, grabbing all the measuring cups and dumping them into the bowl, one by one, haphazardly mixing them together with a summoned spoon.

“I’ve always been in Thomas’ life, and I always will be. I just decided to become more present in his life, to piss off Patton and Virgil. So I’d wait until he was about to sleep, and scream my ideas into the imagination, which certainly terrified Patton and Virgil.”

Logan raised his eyebrow.

“You did all that because Janus told you too?”

Remus stared at Logan blankly.

“He’s the only person that’s always been there for me.”

An awkward silence fell between them. He mixed the contents of the bowl until all of the chunks of flour and baking powder were mixed in, making a liquid smooth batter. He considered adding blueberries or chocolate, but Logan liked simple things. Water with lemon, saffron crocuses. Remus looked over to Logan. 

“A cottage, would that be nice for you? Or would you want a more modern house with lots of bells and whistles? A smart house like that one Ray Bradbury short story, you know the ones with the lions and the kids and the lions ate the parents? I could make it in the crocus field you helped me make and you’ll have infinite saffron— you’re frowning, is that not nice? It sounds pretty nice to me.”

Logan shook his head.

“I’ve told you many, many times, I can’t.”

“Because of how your little light sides would feel?” Remus snapped, “What about how I would feel?”

“And how do you feel?” Logan asked sharply.

“I want to eat your heart,” Remus blurted. He felt his face burn. Logan blinked, staring right at him. 

“I don’t have a heart, Remus,” Logan whispered.

“What if you had a heart, if you were human? Would you let me eat it then?”

Logan looked away from him, staring down at his hands.

“If you wanted to,” Logan mumbled.

“I do,” Remus exclaimed, “with saffron and sea salt!”

Logan’s face burned bright red. His hands pressed flat against the counter, and he turned to Remus.

“It’s a damn shame I’m not human then,” Logan spoke, “because I would love every second of that.”

Without thinking, Remus dropped the bowl and the spoon, letting batter splatter all over himself and the stove. He turned, pressing himself close to Logan, placing one hand on his chest where his heart would be. It covered his shirt in batter, but Logan didn’t seem to mind.

“Then let’s pretend we are human.”

Logan turned to face him, eyes wide, and face flushed.

“Are you going to kiss me?”

Remus smirked. He leaned in, just enough to smell the coffee on Logan’s nervous breaths.

“Do you want me to?” He asked. Logan swallowed. He looked over Remus’ shoulder, then grabbed his wrist. 

“What about the others?” Logan whispered. Remus’ face fell. He set his hand on Logan’s cheek.

“If this makes you happy, the others won’t care who kisses you,” he promised. Logan smiled softly. 

“Then I want you to, Remus. Kiss me,” Logan said breathily. Remus leaned just a little closer, foot happily tapping against the ground.

Remus leaned in closer, closing the distance between them, and gently pressed his lips against Logan’s. He tasted like coffee, warm and inviting, and something very familiar. Probably spit. But it was good, because it was him, it was Logan, Logan kissing him and moving his hand from his wrist to the small of his back. Wonderful, so wonderful. Remus pulled back, just for a breath he didn’t even need, and pressed his lips to Logan’s cheeks, then his nose, his brow bone.

“Is that necessary?” Logan mumbled. Remus laughed quietly, pressing a small kiss to Logan’s eyelid. They fluttered open. Remus stared into his eyes, and cupped Logan’s cheek in his hand.

“A cabin,” Remus muttered, “a cabin where we can be alone and I can kiss you all the time, and you never have to be scared again.”

Logan sighed, leaning closer to Remus. They bumped their foreheads together, Remus wrapping his arms around Logan possessively. 

“I can’t leave. But we can still kiss,” Logan whispered.

“I’m so glad I got out of bed.”

“What the fuck is going on?!?”

Remus turned his head quicker than he ever thought he had before. There, standing in the middle of the kitchen, Virgil glared at them.

“Oh, hi Virgil, don’t you look cheerful as ever,” Remus crowed. He looked back, Logan’s face as pale as a pearl. 

“Get the fuck away from him,” Virgil ordered. Remus tilted his head.

“And why would I do that?”

“Because if you don’t, then I’ll fucking kill you.”

Remsus’ brows shot up. 

“Over what, you perpetually pissed purple pussy? Just because Logan wanted me to--” “I doubt he wanted anything from you,” Virgil growled, “what could he possibly fucking want? Get away from him. Now.”

“Why don’t you just ask--” “Get. Away.”

Remus glanced back at Logan. Any trace of emotion had vanished, replaced with that cold, stony stoicism. Remus wanted to grab him. Grab him and scream at him to say something, scream until something got through to him, scream until Logan realized that even if he did piss the light sides off, he wouldn’t be alone, they’d always have the ocean and the kitchen and one another--

“You are a really, really shitty person, Virgil. And the worst part is that I don’t even think you see it. I mean, what gives you the goddamn right to come wandering in here and tell me what to do, and assume what Logan wants?”

Virgil took a step forward. “I know that he wants nothing to do with a shitbag skunk-cunt like you.”

“Oh, what an original insult!” Remus exclaimed. He laughed, then the smile suddenly dropped from his face. ”Actually, it isn’t. That was the same thing I called you when you left me, left me behind to rot, you and fucking Roman, and you know, I know what you want with him. You want everything about him, you want to leech off the love he gets from the others since none of them fucking love you, and you know that deep down, don’t you? That nobody likes you!”

Remus reached behind him. He grabbed Logan’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Logan’s hand was limp in his grasp. Virgil glared at him. “Wow, I’d sure be hurt if you weren’t such a fucking hippocrite. At least I’m wanted. I may have my moments, sure, I can be paranoid and snappy, but that’s not my constant state of being. You’re just a rabid dog. Sure, Janus may tolerate you, but once he really figures out how useless you are, he’ll leave. I’m sure that’s why he suddenly decided to play nice with the light sides, he realized that you couldn’t do anything for him anymore-- you certainly can’t scare me or Patton-- and you’re useless to him, time to throw you away like the shitsack you are. You’re useless to everyone, you know? If you just locked yourself in your room for the rest of Thomas’ life, nothing would change. You’re Roman’s lesser half, his fucking shadow-- are you crying?”

Remus touched his face. It was wet. His feet felt like they were glued to the floor. 

“What,” Virgil mocked, a shaky smile on his face, “Can’t handle the heat? Then get the FUCK out of the kitchen!”

Remus raised his arm to throw a punch. Logan’s grip tightened on his hand.

“That is enough, both of you,” Logan said calmly. He stepped in front of Remus, letting go of his hand.

“Virgil, thank you for being vigilant, but I assure you it’s fine.” Virgil stared at Logan’s chest. His usually neat dress shirt had a messy stain in the shape of a hand, right over his heart. “Did he hurt you?” Virgil asked.

“He didn’t hurt me, I’m okay. We were having a simple conversation, nothing more.”

Remus stared at him sadly. He wiped his face with the back of his hand. They weren’t just talking, they had something. They kissed, for gods sake, they kissed--

Remus grabbed Logan’s shoulders and spun him around. He slammed Logan against the table, and kissed him deep and hard, desperate. Logan’s hand pushed against his chest. Remus could feel Virgil’s hands grab his shirt and yank, the collar choking him, but he didn’t need air or water or food, he didn’t need anything but Logan, his Logan--

Logan shoved him away with both hands, staring at him sadly. As if he was nothing but a hurt animal. 

“I--” 

“Virgil, let go,” Logan said. Virgil let go of his shirt with a quiet grumble.

Remus stared at Logan. He backed away, until he could feel the stove against his back, the heat of the griddle.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Virgil shouted. Remus stared at the floor. If Virgil said anything else, it was lost in the dark tidal wave of emotion that hit Remus. He didn’t even know what it was. He was drowning, and the water was devoid of any life. Dark, too dark, too cold. He shook. A sudden heat jolted up his arm-- when had he set his hand on the griddle? He could smell his skin cooking. Bubbling. He watched Logan. He said he wanted to kiss him, he said he wanted him to, and they kissed and it was so wonderful. Virgil left. Logan walked out behind him. His palm burned on the griddle.

“What’s cooking?” 

Remus looked up. Orange sat in front of him at the kitchen table, straddling a chair. Remus stared at him, trying to see past whatever Orange did to make himself imperceptible, but his form kept on shifting in dizzying spirals of color, like oil on water. Remus slowly raised his hand from the griddle. If he was human, the skin would be white and blistered, maybe even peeling in a few places. But just like Logan, he wasn’t human. His hand was fine.

“A heart,” Remus mumbled, “and I’m eating it with saffron and sea salt.”

Orange tilted his head.

“There’s no need to repeat yourself, Remus. I heard everything. And I’m here to say that I told you Indigo would leave.”

Remus moved without thinking. He rushed at Orange. Instead, he collided with a chair, sending it clattering to the ground.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” Remus screamed. 

“No you won’t, because you know I’m right. I’ve always been right.” This time, Orange sat atop the counter. Remus summoned his morningstar with a flick of his wrist.

“No you’re not, you’re not right,” Remus growled. He swung at Orange. Orange vanished into thin air before it could even come close to hitting, the heavy iron ball instead slamming into the counter. It cracked the counter, and sent flour flying.

“I’ve always been right, Remus!” Orange said from in front of the fridge. He leaned against it oh so casually, “I’ve been right that you’re only playing house because you think they’ll all leave. Well, look at you now. Making pancakes, right? How sweet.” Remus swung again. The morning star collided with the fridge. It dented the door, and made a horrible screech of metal on metal. He pulled back, ready to strike again.

“You believe that Indigo deserves to be listened to no matter what, correct?” Orange asked. He laid on the table. Remus swung. The morning star collided with wood, splintering the wood.

“I take that as a yes,” Orange said. He was back on the table. Remus swung again. It hit the table in the same place as last time.

“Fucking stay still!” Remus screamed.

“You think he should be listened to no matter what he says or does. No matter who he truly is. And yet, you hold yourself back.” For the third time, the morningstar slammed into the table. This time, it broke through, splitting the table in two. Splintered wood flew in every direction.

“You cook because that makes you palatable,” Orange repeated. He sat on the stove. Swing. The griddle broke under the force of the morning star.

“But you aren’t.”

Swing. Miss. Break.

“You are a monster, that’s how you were made, that is who you are.”

Swing. Miss. Break. 

“You’re really good at swinging that thing around. Did you know that Lucifer was called the Morning Star? And he got punted out of heaven for defying God. His brother was an angel, I believe.”

Remus stilled, panting. Orange stood on the countertop, back pressed against the cabinets, 

“You’re nothing like them. You are the parts of humans that they hate, the beast in the brain, a reminder that humans evolved from animals. They hate you, Remus. They all do. Because they don’t understand you.”

Remus’ hands tightened around the morning star. Orange tilted his head.

“If Indigo loved you, wouldn’t he have said it by now?”

He hefted up the morningstar, and swung recklessly at Orange. The wood of the cabinet splintered and cracked. Glass shattered with a massive crash, like a wave hitting the shore, and millions of glinting shards flew at him, some sticking in his skin and others harmlessly bouncing on the tiles. 

“You are so much more than what they think you are,” Orange said, breath tickling the back of Remus’ neck, “so why try to make them like you? Do you really care that much about them? They’ve done nothing but abandon you, Remus. Over and over again. Nothing has or will change that.”

Remus whipped around, morningstar in hand, but Orange was gone. Remus dropped the morningstar. It clattered to the ground with a thud. He opened his mouth to scream, but no words came out. Nothing came out. He shakily walked to the destroyed table, and sat down on a chair. He looked around. Broken glass littered the floor. The stove had a massive dent in it, and the griddle had been snapped in two. The fridge had a dent, the counters had a dent and harsh scratches from his mace’s spikes, and the realization that he did that just because Orange made him angry made bile rush up his throat.

He didn’t scream or cry or vomit. Just stared at the mess he’d made.

Really, he’d made a mess. Maybe Logan didn’t want to kiss him. Maybe it was an experiment to him, like that stupid fucking schedule that had started this all, made Logan come to the kitchen, see him cooking…

Remus closed his eyes.

When he opened them, he sat on the edge of his dock, watching the glowing waves crash against the shore without end. The place he’d shared with Logan, offered him everything he wanted. Their skin was pale under the moonlight. Remus pulled his knees up to his chest.

He still owed Janus rabbit. He’d make it, then that would be the end, and he’d never set foot in that fucking kitchen again.

He watched the waves.

Tag list: @alexalexisalexej @breezy-skribblz @the-real-comically-insane @gravestone-monarch @heartwitchhouse @appleflavoredkitkats

[psychosuna]

a/n: kinda fluffy and a bit boring these r just my self indulgent thoughts ,, feel free to send rqs

daichi: makes the same breakfast every morning. eggs and toast and some sort of protein. probably drinks black coffee, adds a little cream and sugar if he’s feeling fancy. a ketchup user and abuser. “breakfast is the most important meal of the day” blah blah just say you’re capable of waking up early and go.

asahi: idk why i just see asahi as a big baby thags like incapable of doing anything for himself honestly like his mom probs still makes him breakfast either that or he has a bowl of cereal.

sugawara: pop tart man. also goes feral over toaster strudels. the way he frosts them is an exact science. coffee but it’s light roast. uses creamer, duh.

noya: really likes ego waffles. toasts like 2-3 and gets really fuckin impatient so he just eats them as the next ones are toasting. probably drinks a glass of milk after like a freak. he’s always running late in the morning but will turn into a fuckin grouch if he doesn’t eat. it’s placebo. he just thinks he’s in a bad mood.

tanaka: i see this man as a scrambled eggs type of guy. it’s simple. the only thing he knows how to cook, actually. that, and mac n cheese (same). drank orange juice w bfast all through highschool and had a coffee awakening in college. doesn’t eat if he’s running late.

ennoshita: doesn’t eat breakfast, usually just has a cup of coffee and will eat a little something a couple hours later. he’s just not hungry in the morning.

hinata: probs has a whole ass family breakfast every morning in highschool. mum cooked eggs, bacon, rice (enter traditional japanese breakfast because i’m uneducated). when he went to college he tried to keep up with making a big breakfast every morning, and succeeds for the most part. not big on coffee.

kageyama: cereal boy. goes for somewhat sugary cereals, also the type to have a granola bar or something otw to school/classes. on game days , he makes a big breakfast. also not big on coffee.

tsukishima: tbh i headcanon him eating oatmeal and i really wish he didn’t. like, strawberry oatmeal or the strawberry K cereal is really just his favorite. coffee expert, really picky about the grounds he uses and the way he makes it. takes pride in his morning coffee. he can go without eating but he truly cannot go without coffee.

yamaguchi: pretty baby probably just eats a bowl of cereal or something. he doesn’t think too much about it but also tends to not skip breakfast. sometimes tsukki will bring him a coffee , but he doesn’t make it on his own.

kuroo: foggy area here. usually skips breakfast, always makes the coffee right when he wakes up but sometimes forgets to make a mug or a coffee to take with him to classes. sometimes he just randomly wakes up at the crack of dawn and makes a huge ass breakfast. he’s not used to eating a big breakfast, so when he does, it tears his stomach up.

kenma: he was up playing games and snacking all night. he’s full from the cosmic brownies and monster energy drinks he had at 4am before he ultimately crashed. and if he does have breakfast, it’s probably some sugary ass cereal. get some proper sleep, freak.

lev: probs has like a typical russian breakfast honestly, he grew up w it and still makes it to this day. a typical bfast for him is fried eggs with kolbasa and dill on top. family recipe type kid. this is only when he can be fucked to make it, though.

oikawa: motherfucker makes smoothies for breakfast. not even the protein shake types, like the fruity ass spinach ass types of smoothies that probably have more sugar than anything else in them. he’s thinks he’s eating “clean.” also stops by a starbucks or soemthing every morning bc he likes the complicated ass coffees rather than just making his own.

iwaizumi: i see him actually like, enjoying making breakfast. his go-to is a quick breakfast burrito. on weekends, hes a whore for chicken and waffles. probably uses a lot of hot sauce. definitely drinks black coffee he has big dick energy

matsukawa: skips breakfast entirely. literally cannot be fucked. if he eats in the morning, he goes to mcdonalds. mans never fucked with coffee, either. i’m telling you guys, he’s got a big dick, but this is one sketchy mfer.

hanamaki: really likes bagels. everything bagels with a shit ton of cream cheese. coffee with a tiny bit of cream and sugar. he’s classy. he’s perfect. i adore him.

bokuto: his mom always told him that breakfast is the most important meal of the day and why would he doubt her ? he makes the birds eye egg thinf with the hole in the bread and then puts in the pan and cracks the egg in the whole. you guys know what i’m talking about. another ketchup user and abuser but i’m less mad bc, cmon, it’s bokuto!

akaashi: this mfer. THIS MFER. i adore him truly. wait for it... greek yogurt. he gets the tubs of greek yogurt, sometimes the honey flavored kind, and will cut up fruit and put granola on top, and has espresso. he’s just. so sexy honestly.

tendou: always making something weird to be fucking honest. liek the motherfucker never skips breakfast, but he’ll straight up eat left over takeout from the night before at like 7:30am. what’s wrong with him. tries homemade pancakes every once in a while and they aren’t even that bad, he just puts WAY too much syrup on top.

semi: will have one cup of black coffee and that’s literally it.

ushijima: has the same thing every single morning. he never switches up. protein shake (black coffee in the shake), one fried egg, two pieces of bacon. it’s the perfect combo why would he ever even need to change it?

goshiki: tbh this mfer is always in a rush in the mornings but u know what. two pieces of toast and grape or strawberry jam. he’s a lil jam on toast cutie tell me i’m wrong. i’d die for him.

osamu: if he doesn’t have time to cook, he won’t eat. he doesn’t see the point in eating pre packaged shit. he wants to really get in the kitchen and make something. poor baby just wakes up late sometimes.

atsumu: if osamu doesn’t have time to cook, he won’t eat. fiend ass motherfucker. don’t get me wrong, i love him, but he’s so fucking annoying. will smell food and walk in the kitchen like “what’s for breakfast lil bro?” and osamu is all like “nothing for you dipshit” but he always gives in and feeds the mfer

suna: nothing. like. ever. he forgets. doesn’t have a big appetite and he can’t cook for shit unless it’s edibles so he just doesn’t bother. a coffee addict but refuses to tell anyone.

kita: a nice ol mug of fresh coffee, maybe some eggs, maybe some sausage, whatever he feels like! tries to eat every morning bc he knows it’s for the best. is a morning person so it’s not like he doesn’t have time!

terushima: a monster and a protien bar. likes the coffee flavored monsters in the morning , though. cheese toast on occasion.

sakusa: black coffee, two splendas, avocado toast. he’s got taste.

˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ ꒰ ⌨︎ ✰ thank u for reading! | ೃ࿔₊•

[gallavictorious]

GW 2020: Domestic

It's almost ten when Mickey emerges from the bedroom and heads downstairs in search of Ian. They both have the day off, and he's slightly disappointed that his husband didn't wake him up for a nice morning fuck, but the disappointment immediately fades when he spots him by the stove, in sweatpants and a t-shirt, nothing on his feet.

”Hey,” Mickey says, pausing to run a hand over Ian's arm and inhaling his scent before pouring himself a cup of coffee.

”Hey,” Ian replies, looking up from the frying pan to favor him with a quick grin over his shoulder. ”Making pancakes.”

Mickey's about to say something snarky about stating the fucking obvious, but the words die on his lips. Somehow and strangely, the sight of Ian and the simple joy it inspires brings with it other and darker emotions; a painful tug of something half forgotten, and a sense of foreboding –

Mickey frowns. And then he remembers:

He wakes, and something is different. It takes him but a moment to realize what it is: Ian's not in bed with him. For the past two weeks, ever since Mickey came out and Ian disappeared into that weird fucking fog his siblings want to call bipolar disorder, he's been curled up on his side whenever Mickey opens his eyes. For the first few days he'd only ever gotten up to go to the bathroom, and done it reluctantly at that. He's been doing a little better since, but still moves like a zombie, hardly speaks – and doesn't get up until noon.

But now the bed next to Mickey is empty. Hopeful, worried, he hastily reaches for a t-shirt and pads out from his – their – room. The sitting area is empty, but there's a pleasant smell wafting through the air from the kitchen, where Ian is stood in front of the stove, dressed, and with a spatula at the ready.

He looks up at Mickey; smiles. ”I made pancakes.”

And Mickey smiles back, sharp relief mixing with a surge of something warm and strong in the vincinity of his heart. Thinks, we'll be all right now.

For a while they are. Ian keeps getting up in the mornings. Sometimes he makes pancakes, sometimes Svetlana makes eggs, and yeah, sometimes Mickey makes toast for everybody. They look after the kid and they make money and he goes to sleep with Ian in the evenings (or whenever Ian gets home from the club) and Svetlana shares a bed with Nika. It's a bit weird, maybe, but it works.

It works.

Mickey is happy. For the first time he can remember, he feels happy, and safe, and like maybe it isn't so bad after all, this life. Maybe there can be happiness – even here, and even for someone like him.

And then one night Ian doesn't come home and Mickey finds out that he's been cheating on him. And everything else happens, it all falls apart, even though for a while it seems like maybe they can work it out, but no, no, it all comes crashing down, and when the dust finally settles Mickey is in prison, and Ian has stopped coming to visit.

Fuck. Blinking once, twice, Mickey pulls away from the memory. Shakes his head as if to clear it: doesn't quite manage.

The nasty thing is, he couldn't have imagined it, on that happy morning in the kitchen five years ago. He'd felt so safe and happy and sure then, and he could never in a million years have guessed how very quickly absolutely everything would go so very straight to hell. And he should have known, he'd thought later: he'd been living on the edge of utter chaos his entire life, balancing there, occasionally slipping over, and he should have known.

But he hadn't. He'd been too fucking happy, and stupid with it.

Mickey takes a deep breath. Lets it out slowly and looks up to find his husband eyeing him with a frown.

”What's going on?” Ian asks.

”Don't worry about it,” Mickey says, walking over to the table with his coffee mug and sitting down. ”Stupid fucking memories.”

”Oh.” Ian doesn't ask him to elaborate. Probably doesn't need to; he's a perceptive motherfucker.

Still, when he brings the plate of pancakes over, he catches Mickey's eyes and asks: ”You sure you're okay?”

Reaching out to briefly squeeze his hand, Mickey nods. ”Yeah, man, I'm fine.”

And – he means it. Sure it still stings, the memories of all that fucking pain and heartbreak, and all those years spent apart: maybe it'll always sting. But behind the hurt there's something else, something equally true and even stronger: the knowledge that they had found their way back to each other. In spite of everything, in spite of all that goddamned shit, they'd done that.

Will do it again, should the need ever arise. Do it quicker and better too, because they're not fucking kids anymore; they've been through a lot and learned a lot and they've chosen each other for a reason.

”Okay. Good.” Ian bends down to capture his lips in a kiss, and Mickey tilts his head to meet him, putting a hand behind his head to pull him closer. It doesn't last very long; it is chaste rather than passionate, but Mickey is still grinning when they break apart.

”Pancakes smell fucking delicious,” he says.

[aforrestofstuff]

I'd like to know if you have any cooking skills headcanons!! Like, from who's able to make a absolute meal to who burns microwaved instant noodles.

I’ve done a few individual headcanons about cooking before, but I think it’s time for a refresher. You could call this... the main course.

Okay, enough of that bullshit. Here’s the hcs. Thanks for your ask, anon! ❤️❤️💞

Disclaimer: this shit is crack as fuck because I have very strong feelings about cooking lmfao. FOH don’t interact.

Tornado of Terror: She’d find a way to burn ice cream, honestly. She tries so hard (by god she tries) but her meals always come out as a convoluted mess with ingredients that have no reason being together. She eats her steaks well done and boils hamburgers. It’s a nightmare. She doesn’t really spend too much time in the kitchen, however, because she knows she sucks at cooking and because of this, makes 90% of her diet consist of takeout. But if she did spend more of her day cooking, she’d probably discover the recipe to meth accidentally. It’s that bad.

Silverfang: Stubborn old grandpa way of cooking. He’s got a handful of recipes that have been passed down for generations and he’s gonna carry those fuckers to his grave. When Garou was living at the dojo, the little bastard would try to make some changes to these recipes and Bang had to will every molecule in his arthritis-riddled body to not RKO this kid (not really, Bang wouldn’t hurt a fly). But I digress. He’s a decent cook, knows all the fundamentals and all of that shit.

Atomic Samurai: Can’t cook or bake for shit although he, of course, talks himself up like he can. The extent of his cooking knowledge is only within the realm of “shit you can roast over a campfire when your cheap ass can’t scrape together enough coin to pay the electricity bill”. But now that he’s got that S-Class paycheck and three other disciples to freeload off of, they pretty much cater to his every food-related need. He’s useless in the kitchen. Utterly fucking useless.

Child Emperor: Doesn’t know how to cook (little bastard ain’t even tall enough to reach the stove imo) but luckily he’s got that PHAT BRAIN so he can easily just build a Gordon Ramsey bot 3000 to replace his incompetence in the kitchen. His diet consists of Dino nuggets and microwaveable noodles so it’s not like he’s doing the world a great disservice by not learning how to cook properly.

Metal Knight: Same as Child Emperor except he’s a rich bastard and programs his bots to make that fancy shit with only the finest ingredients. He’s got enough cash from doing black market tech trades and building up his robo-army that this motherfucker could snort caviar for fun. He’s a real pompous asshole about it.

King: His mom taught him to cook a few things, nothing serious. He’s one of those dudes that doesn’t really know how to make much, but the few dishes that he does know how to cook are fucking BOMB. He’s got a cast iron skillet for making pancakes and everything, bitch is already halfway to being a chef himself. Other than that, however, he’s a ramen monster. His blood is practically pre-packaged bone broth.

Zombieman: I’ve said this in a previous hc but he’s a damn good cook. One problem though: he only knows how to make single servings of everything because he eats alone almost all the time. He specializes in meats. Bitch is a carnivore. He bought himself a set of those 500-dollar butcher knives so he can carve up cuts like a monster. He hemorrhages cash into fancy wood chips so he can get that smoky flavor juuuuust right. He’s got an Outdoor Chef setup on his patio. My mans is living the DREAM.

Drive Knight: He can eat but does he really need to? His cooking expertise is popping a new battery in. There you go.

Pig God: Oh my god if this man’s kitchen isn’t Michelin-Star quality. He eats a lot and he cooks a lot, it’s only natural. He’s got an indoor grill and pot chandelier and buys industrial-sized buckets of pickles and roast beef by the cow and— okay he just has a lot of food, alright? And he’s got that PHAT S-Class paycheck so my boy probably has a whole walk-in fridge just to put all the fucking food he eats. Bonus points if he hires a dishboy to work and a contractor to implement a three-sink dish station with “Clean-Rinse-Sanitize” stickers slapped on the steel, lol. But yeah, he cooks for 500 people at a time because he eats enough for 500 people at a time. Gotta maintain that figure, you know what I’m saying?

Superalloy Darkshine: He has. Oh my god— he has a full shelf dedicated to just. DOZENS OF JARS of whey protein. He has two blenders: one for fruit smoothies and one for protein shakes. His kitchen? Spotless. He knows how to cook and he eats like a bodybuilder (because he is one, duh) so he’s got that fridge STOCKED at all times. He cleans like he’s getting paid for it because nothing feels better than wiping down a gas stove until that bitch is spotless. However, his taste is garbage. He can throw down in the kitchen but does it taste good? No. Sometimes the ultra-healthy alternative to something isn’t always the greatest. He’s grown accustomed to putting zucchini in his cakes and almost damn well likes the texture of it, but don’t invite this guy to the potluck because he WILL show up with a vegetable nightmare that’s sure to make even vegans gag. Sorry bud, but nobody likes soy bacon.

Watchdog Man: furry ass.

Flashy Flash: I’ve said this before in a previous hc, but he’s pescatarian. He grew up on a coastal town before being sold of to the ninja village like a goddamned carpet and now fish is the only meat he eats. His cooking ability is about as good as one would expect from a homesless ninja. Like Atomic Samurai, he can throw it down over the campfire and still find a way to make a decent dish (in both presentation and taste) despite having limited knowledge and resources to work with. Bitch can whip up a five-star meal with some branches, a fish, and half a carrot like it was second nature. That’s about it though. He’s useless in an actual kitchen.

Genos: It’s canon. He’s a housewife. He only knows how to make the select few dishes that play an integral part in Saitama’s diet, though (because Genos can eat but he doesn’t really need to, so he only does it when he and Saitama are sharing a meal). Those dishes include things like: actual garbage. He cooks shit food. It’s not his fault. Saitama just eats like a fucking twat. There’s rats that live in the dumpster outside the restaurant I work in that have a better diet than him. Genos just works with what the poor bastard’s got and has gained a pretty mediocre grasp on cooking because of it. If he wanted to, though, he could easily be the best chef in all the land. Too bad he’s more focused on being an ultra-powerful speed demon.

Metal Bat: Tries his absolute best to cook healthy meals for him and Zenko when he almost always resorts to just popping a frozen pizza in the oven and calling it a day. I’ve said this before in a previous hc, but he eats his shit BURNT. Bitch like his steak well done, his yolks grey, and his chicken vaporized. The only exception to this is sushi because there really is no other way to enjoy it other than having it raw. Trust me, though. If there was a way to burn the fuck out of sashimi while still having it be sashimi, he’d find a way to do it and like it. But yeah, as I said: he sucks ass at cooking. He’s tried the tutorials, he’s bought the skillets, he’s sharpened the knives, but he just can’t fucking do it.

Tanktop Master: Same as Superalloy. They bond over gross-ass ultra-healthy recipes that only they enjoy. The Tanktop Gang loves him but they always kindly refuse to eat over at his house because they know he’s gonna try to make them ingest a broccoli loaf or some shit. He’s not too strict about his diet, though. He’ll chill out and have a pizza every once and a while, but only when he’s hanging out with the homies.

Puri-Puri Prisoner: He has a job in prison where he helps out in the kitchen for seventy-five cents an hour, but that’s about the extent of it. He’s got the bare basics down and could put together a decent meal for date night if he really tried (and had a damn kitchen to work with). On top of that, he can throw down some tasty prison food recipes, hand-crafted from the brick box itself. Ramen pad Thai, anyone?

Amai Mask: he’s rich as fuck, why does he need to cook? Bitch hired a chef and now all he does it drink skim milk and eat food from the top shelf. He couldn’t fry an egg if his life depended on it. Poor bastard doesn’t even know what a whisk is. And don’t even get me started on how much of a slob he is. The ten-minute process of making a single plate of spaghetti will have his kitchen in such a disgusting state that it’ll take him and a trusty Mister Clean Magic Eraser five hours just to clean it up. That is, if he even has the basic human decency to pick up after himself. He’ll probably just hire someone to do for him and then tip them a crisp 100-dollar bill for their troubles, only to make an even worse mess tomorrow.

Iaian: I’ve said this before in a previous hc, but yes: he can cook. It’s nothing special. He’s got a suburban dad sense of cooking where he, like King, can only make a select few dishes but makes those dishes taste magical. He’s got 0 utensils and shit kitchen to work with (because Kami’s place is probably like, centuries old on account of him still being a Samurai), but boy can Iaian whip up a feast like no other despite all that. It’s all protein-packed flavor bombs that look simple in comparison to, say, Zombieman or Metal Knight’s food, but it still tastes good all the same. Kama eats off of his plate all the time and it used to annoy him but they’ve grown so close that they might as well share forks at this point.

Okamaitachi: Can’t really cook, but they are a baking god. I don’t know much about baking but I know they’ve got a cupboard dedicated to their plethora of sourdough starters. They buy yeast by the pound and make enough bread to feed entire armies some days. Whatever the gang doesn’t eat, they donate it to the local homeless shelter and make it a habit to go out of their way performing good deeds that don’t always involve sword fighting (something Kami insists he instilled into them via his teachings— which is bullshit. Kama is just naturally good-hearted and sweet).

Bushidrill: Can’t cook or bake for shit but like Atomic Samurai and Flash, can throw it down on the campfire. Don’t let this man near any turkeys or pigs because he will spitroast the fuck out of them.

Fubuki: Okay, not only is she a great cook but she’s as dogmatic as a coked-out head chef. She and the Blizzard Group sometimes cook together in her massive kitchen (she poured all of her measly paycheck into it because by god, if her apartment doesn’t have a kitchen fit for a chef then it’s not worth living in), and she’ll be barking orders like a damn crow. She’s got the two-grand knife set, cast-iron everything, bronze accents on the sink, and the ability to deglaze a pan without starting a fire. She’s a natural. If she cooks for you, then that’s how you know she likes you. All in all, her food tastes and looks great. She’s a bit low on funds on account of being only Class-B, so she sometimes takes little shortcuts when plating her dishes, like using celery leaves in place of parsley and all that jazz.

Saitama: I’ve already said that his diet is absolute shit and part of that is due to being poor, but I will show mercy and say that he’s a decent cook. He only makes what he knows he’s gonna like and doesn’t leave any room for experimentation unless his budget allows it (which isn’t often). His kitchen only has the bare essentials. Genos has offered to buy him more equipment and even renovate the damn thing for him but Saitama refuses each time because then he’d have a bigass kitchen just for making a poor man’s omurice, and that would be a waste. His talent, though? Making a perfect omelet. He can fold the egg like a sheet with no tears and no brown spots. It tastes heavenly.

Mumen Rider: Ultra-safe in the kitchen. He doesn’t even own a knife sharpener because he’s clumsy enough to know he’ll cut himself the moment he even tries to use it. His pot handles all have coverings and he’s watched all of the food safety and fire safety videos out there. He could give a goddamned seminar on it. Food-wise, he’s a decent home cook. Nothing special. He does, however, share Superalloy and Tanktop’s nasty habit of over healthy-ing everything to oblivion and making it a tasteless, vegetative mess. It doesn’t matter if you invite him to the potluck or not because he’ll bring a cauliflower pizza anyway and y’all better fucking enjoy it or he’ll start crying.

Sonic: The same as Flashy Flash, minus the pescatarianism. He’d butcher a pig without blinking an eye, and often uses his katana in cooking (even though it poses like, 87 different safety hazards and is most definitely health violation). He can forage quite well and has taken a liking to wild mushrooms and berries over the years. It’s gotten so natural to him that he now knows by heart the specific time of year in which the wild berries are ripest, and which species of salmon inhabit certain streams on any given day.

Garou: Would burn water. End of story. His cooking is so bad and dangerous that everyone thinks he’s an arsonist when he really just starts fires on accident. Don’t let this fucker near a stove, for the love of god.

[nancythebisexualslutwheeler]

Prompt: “My husband has made pancakes and eggs for breakfast every morning and my kids are becoming accustomed to a standard I am not prepared to maintain after he returns to work.”

Richie loves having Eddie home, he does. For the last seven years, Richie’s been working as the stay at home parent, for all three of their children. Eddie continued his work as a risk analyst, though he worked more appropriate hours. He was allowed one week a month to stay after regular business hours to catch up.

They’d met in their mid thirties and clicked right away. Richie lived out most of his career in his late twenties to early thirties so he’s got a little pocket of money that allows them to live in their nice, blue, four bedroom house in the suburbs. Eddie just likes to work because he likes to live a kind of -fancy ass - lifestyle.

So their oldest, freshly turned 7 year olds name is Gemma and she’s a beautiful princess from the day she was born. With Richie’s bright blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair. She loves baking and Legos and of course, Frozen. Richie had thought he could never love anyone more than Eddie until he spent every day at home with his baby girl. Her first word had been “daddy” and the first time she walked from him to Eddie, he’d cried.

Liam is four, with Eddie’s dark hair and eyes. He’s not quiet or timid but loud and demanding and fierce and stubborn, and going to give them a run for their money his entire life. Between Paw Patrol and Frozen, he totally thinks Richie is wasting his time with structured learning, but as soon as he learned to write his name, he wrote it all over the wall. With sharpie. Eddie had a heart attack.

Ian is seven months old. Richie’s doing it all over again and loving it and loves teaching his older children how to take care of their brother. He’s bubbly with chubby cheeks and he loves sweet potatoes and the Gerber puffs more than the five them combined. (Which really sucked cause Richie loved those motherfuckers and they were always out!)

So Richie’s a stay at dad and loves it, and with everything going on, the schools closed, and now Eddie working for home, they’ve somehow stumbled into a weird routine.

For some reason, Eddie wanted to wake up with the kids. Richie had always slept in more than him, and weekends were dedicated to letting him sleep in anyway. So Richie wakes up around 9 or 10. They have lunch around 12, and Eddie works from 12-3, as Richie handles nap time, clean up and prepping for school time. Richie teaches from 2-3 with an afternoon snack outside by the swing set.

Richie stays outside with the younger kids while Eddie works out, he’s been allowing Gemma to come downstairs with him and she’d learned squats and sit ups. She was thrilled.

Richie usually cooked while Eddie led a dance party or an art project or movie time. Richie did a lot for the kids and he was pretty happy with his routine and lifestyle. So when he comes down on Friday and Eddie has not let up on the cooking a full ass breakfast including either hash browns or sausage depending on the day, and a different flavor of pancakes every day, Richie must say something.

If he gets fancy they have oatmeal with too much brown sugar or toast with Nutella but mostly it’s dry cereal in front of the tv while they watch Doc McStuffins for hours on end while Richie wakes up.

“You’re outshining me,” he says, slapping Eddie on the ass with a spatula. Gemmas stirring the pancake batter, Ian is in the high chair eating those damn puffs and Liam is eating chocolate chips out of the bag.

“Are you making homemade whipped cream?” Richie moans as Eddie hands him a cup of coffee.

“Yes daddy!! Papa said it’s a special day!”

“Is it now?”

“Yes it is. We survived one week at home together.”

Richie grins,

“I guess we did. Liam, can I have some of those?”

Liam pulls them bag to his chest and Richie raises an eyebrow,

“Sorry daddy, I’ll share,” he holds the bag out and Richie kisses his forehead,

“Thanks champ.”

“Just so you know Eduardo, I’m not keeping this up when you get back to work, that’s the end of breakfast kids, back to puffs and cereal, you rascals.”

Gemma giggles,

“I miss Frosted Flakes. Oh my gosh, Daddy can I have some?”

“Papa is making breakfast silly.”

“Please? One bowl? Papa?”

“Yeah that’s fine honey.”

Richie rolls his eyes and hugs Eddie from behind,

“Push over.”

“Isn’t that right Ian? You’re the only one who ever listens around here, huh my precious boy?”

“I listen daddy!”

“I listen!”

“I listen!” Eddie replies just to join in.

Richie laughs, he loves his family.

“Can we have sausage too?”

Eddie turns from his place at the stove,

“It’s in the freezer in the garage, go grab it. An orange juice too.”

“Papa say please!” Says Liam.

“Please,” Eddie sings.

Gemma laughs,

“Daddy I wanna listen to music!”

“Papa I wanna play Frozen!”

“Okay, well, breakfast isn’t ready so you can go get dressed if you want.”

“Papa can I be Anna this time?!” Liam begs.

“That’s up to sissy,”.

“No, actually, it’s Liam’s  turn to be Anna,” Richie says, coming back into the kitchen, setting the stuff on the counter.

“Daddy!”

Richie raises an eyebrow and though she’s still pouting, Gemma quiets. The two kids run up the stairs and Eddie uses the opportunity to slide into his husbands chest.

“Good morning my love.”

“Good morning,” Richie kisses Eddie’s forehead.

“You’re a good daddy.”

Richie beams,

“Thank you.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you more.

[purplesurveys]

1191

survey by voicedance16

name yourself: Robyn

name (one of) your best friend(s): Angela; she’s for keeps.

name 3 things in your fridge/freezer: I don’t think I opened the fridge at all today, but if I had to guess...eggs, bread, and our pad thai leftovers from dinner earlier.

name a color you're wearing currently: Green.

name the last thing you ate: I treated myself and ordered spicy tuna salad tonight because I had a shit shift. It’s been a while since I felt a little burned out with my job, but it happened today and it wasn’t very pleasant.

name the last store you went to: I never go out these days...does online shopping count? I’m always browsing through Shopee, if anything lol.

name the song you're listening to: ON - BTS.

name the artist of that song: BTS.

name your favorite animal: Dogs or elephants.

name what pets you have, if any:  Two dogs. Kimi, Cooper.

name the town/state you live in: No thanks. I live near Manila though, which is probably the only city most people know from the Philippines anyway so that should suffice.

name something commonly ordered at Starbucks: I think my usual is a pretty common order – caramel macchiato.

name the last person you talked to in person: Not sure. I think it may have been Nina? I was just jokingly asking her if her bias recognized her again on a VLive, since her comments have been read by her favorite group recently, and she tells me they even laugh at them :( Perks of liking a smaller, more underground group for sure; pigs would have to fall from the sky before anyone from BTS notices me lol.

name the last person you talked to on the phone: My mom. I didn’t hear her calling for dinner last night, so she ended up having to call me from downstairs while I was hanging out at the rooftop.

name the current day of the week: Tuesday.

name the current month: May.

name the current time: 10:22 PM.

name the last movie you watched: I have not watched an entire movie since i’m thinking of ending things back in September. I did watch a snippet from Portrait of a Lady on Fire a few weeks ago, though. That’s the closest thing I’ve got to watching any film recently.

name the last book you read: This one I’m even more uncertain about.

name a place you've been on vacation: South Korea.

name a place you'd like to go on vacation: Malta or Turkey.

name 3 things you can see from where you're sitting: It’s pretty dark so I technically can’t ‘see’ anything, but based on what I know I brought up to the rooftop tonight I have my phone, my salad, and my vape pen.

name your favorite musical: Miss Saigon, if anything. I’m not a big fan of musicals.

name an animal (any): Turtle was the first that came to mind.

name a fruit: Mangoes.

name a vegetable: Lettuce.

name a common breakfast food: Pancakes. They’d sound so good rn, too.

name a color: Grey.

name a type of flower: Dandelions.

name a type of tree: Uh...mango again? HAHA I’m not very good with trees.

name a city: New York.

name a state: Indiana.

name a country: India.

name a continent: Asia.

name a planet: Jupiter.

name a girl's name: Jessica.

name the last person to comment you on Facebook: Angela. She tagged me on this post that was promoting a local shop that makes customized face pillows and she told me we should order a Taehyung one for me and a Seokjin one for her, hahaha. The concept is definitely cute but it wasn’t my style, so I showed her another shop that also makes face pillows, but prettier.

name a clothing store/brand: Thom Browne.

name the last book you got at the library: If I remember correctly, it was History of the Filipino People which, coincidentally, my great-uncle wrote.

name a restaurant: Yabu but eugh, haven’t eaten there since the breakup. I should order from them soon to commemmorate moving on heheh.

name a grocery store: Can I just name a local one? SM.

name an iPhone app: YouTube.

name an actor: Eddie Redmayne.

name an actress: Emma Stone.

name a music group: BTS.

name your favorite/lucky number: It used to be 4, but I’m now going with 7.

name something you've accomplished: Continued from...last night, I think? I have no concept of time anymore. I managed to survive this week so far considering how deadly my schedule was.

name something you'd like to accomplish: Get a promotion once I’ve proven myself capable.

name someone who makes you laugh: Hans can make anything funny.

name something exciting coming up soon: Some of my online shopping orders arriving I’m guessing by later today, yayyyy.

name a song that makes you emotional: Oh man, there are a lot. O by Coldplay is probably the one that hits the worst, though; I still can’t listen to that song completely to this day. Recently, I also can’t really avoid being sad whenever I listen to Butterfly by BTS.

name one of your pet peeves: Overly slow drivers.

name someone you know who is an amazing singer: Hannah.

name someone who is the same religion as you: JM.

name a holiday you celebrate: Christmas.

name the last 4 digits of your phone number: That’s too many, lmao.

name one of your cousins: My cousin Lei from my dad’s side.

name a book you loved when you were younger: The entire Septimus Heap series. I must’ve reread Magyk (the first book) a hundred times.

name a song you loved when you were younger: Let’s go withhhhh Girlfriend by Avril Lavigne. Making sure there were no adults around whenever I sang along to “I’m a motherfucking princess” as an 8 year old was always a thrill.

name your favorite movie: Two for the Road.

name a popular book series: Percy Jackson.

name a musical instrument: Saxophone.

name a language: French.

name what other tabs you have open: Archive of our Own, Dailymotion, Bzoink.

name 3 things on the walls of the room you're in: The walls of the rooftop are bare.

name your house number 4.

name your high school: Nope.

name your college, if applicable: UP.

name your middle school See high school.

name your elementary school: See high school.

name the college you wish you went to/hope to go to: I was able to qualify for the university and degree I wanted to attend.

name your favorite teacher: My music teacher in high school.

name the color of your backpack: Hm, don’t really use backpacks anymore but the main one I had in college - at least until I switched to a simple handbag (aka my senior year when I started to not care lol) - was a pink Herschel backpack.

name a dessert: Leche flan.

name a famous landmark: Statue of Liberty, only because of the question after this.

name a place you might go in NYC: Tiffany’s.

name an inventor: Nikola Tesla.

name an article of clothing: Jeans.

name an ice cream flavor: Pistachio.

name a religion: Islam.

name an emotion: Resentment.

name a room in your house: Mine.

name a website: Twitter.

name a car: Hyundai Palisade.

name something you need to do today: It’s a holiday today so I technically should be off work, but since it’s a holiday squished in the middle of the week that’s just another way of saying my dayoff will be a scam lmao. That said, I need to draft an article today for a client.

name someone you admire: My dad.

name someone you miss: My two best friends.

name a part of the body: Thighs.

name the last youtube video you watched: It was a Taehyung-focused compilation.

name a quote you love: “If you really love to be loved, it’d be good to show those who love you how much you’ve changed.” There’s some background context obviously playing around in here and most people might not recognize the weight it holds if they’re unfamiliar, but it’s a quote that really means a lot to me and came to me during a time I needed to hear it.

[twonewkidsonesouthpark]

Birthday fic for Buttlord

So, day late, dollar short, but cut me some slack I have TWO birthdays to celebrate the 28th and I’ve been out for the past 12 hours doing so XD

Happy birthday @justcallmebuttlord​, have some cute twin bday fic ^^

“Happy birthday to you,”

“Happy birthday to you,”

“Happy birthday dear Lynnie,”/“Happy birthday dear Lyssie,”

“Happy birthday to us.”

--

Alyssa and Lynnea Ostenmeyer could be forgiven for being confused when they walked downstairs to a veritable feast waiting for them for breakfast. They glanced at each other, identical confusion in their eyes. Finally, Alyssa shrugged, making for the table to sit down. This was hardly the weirdest thing that had happened since the ill-fated ‘hero’ game. With their father having taken up cooking instead of pot brownies, they had a lot better meals (with a lot less drugs slipped into their meatloaf).

“Good morning girls!” Kelly sing-songed, coming into the kitchen.

“Morning mom,” Lynn replied, glancing at Alyssa, Did we slip into an alternate timeline in our sleep or something?

Alyssa shrugged, face clearly as confused as Lynnea felt. Both of them were distracted as two piled high stacks of pancakes were set down in front of them.

“We forgot to tell you, we’re having the house cleaned today, so you’ll have to spend the day out,” Chris said from the counter, cracking a couple of eggs into a bowl of batter, “Hope you don’t mind!”

So, same thing we do every weekend, then? Alyssa took a bite of bacon.

Kelly and Chris shared an indecipherable glance over their heads, “Well, once you’re done with breakfast, get dressed and head out. We’ll message the two of you when it’s all done, okay?”

-

“That was weird, right?” Lynnea asked as they stepped down off their front porch steps, “Like, that wasn’t just me?”

Alyssa shook her head. No, definitely weird. Mom and dad are up to something.

“...you don’t think we have to move again, do you?” Lynnea asked, voice suddenly taking on a panicked edge, “I thought we’d been taking care of the government guys so they wouldn’t notice.”

No, I don’t think so at least, Alyssa cocked her head to the side. It was enough to get Lynn to relax as they headed down the street.

“Wanna see if the guys are busy?” Lynn asked, not waiting before heading across the front yard to Butters’ house and knocking on the door.

Both twins were grateful that it was Mrs. Stotch who opened the door, “Oh! Hello there you two,” she greeted, “I’m afraid Butters is --” Please don’t say grounded, “--n’t home right now.”

“Oh, that’s alright,” Lynn said, hopping down the steps, “He’s probably at Cartman’s if he’s not here.”

Alyssa nodded, leading the trudge through the snow this time to the next house down, “Hello Dee, Lynnea. I’m sorry, but Eric’s gone out already.”

Curiouser and curiouser, Alyssa thought, nodding and going back down the driveway to meet Lynn.

“Cartman too?” She asked, surprised. Alyssa nodded, “Kyle and Stan’s, maybe?”

Alyssa frowned slightly, but nodded, following her sister down the street.

“Okay, what the fuck,” Lynnea asked emphatically as Mrs. McCormick shut the door, “Is going on today? Butters, Cartman, Kyle, Stan, AND Kenny are all out?”

Can’t get ahold of Clyde’s gang either, Alyssa turned her phone screen toward Lynnea, showing unanswered messages to Clyde, Token, Tweek, and Craig.

“Tricia, Karen, and Ike aren’t answering me, either,” Lynn said, frowning at her phone, “Well… alright, fuck the boys too, they can do whatever it is they’re doing without us. Feel like hanging out with Wendy?”

Wendy’s always cool, Alyssa nodded, watching as her twin’s fingers flew over her phone keyboard, then pause.

“Wendy’s busy too,” she said, “And she went offline after I messaged, what the heck? Since when does Wendy Testaburger go radio silent?”

Ooookay this is officially donkey balls levels of weird, Alyssa frowned, looking at her friends list. Their usual gang of miscreants was all offline… or invisible, she wasn’t sure which.

“This blows,” Lynn muttered. They had relocated to the park, with Lynn peeking into the girls room to see if there’d been a meeting today she didn’t know about in the Sunshine Sparkle Club, but they’d found it empty. So now, they sat on the swings in sullen, confused silence.

Fuck ‘em, Alyssa reached over to squeeze Lynn’s hand, Not the first time we’ve gotten by alone. We don’t need those cock guzzling taint munchers anyway.

Lynn squeezed back, her grip noticeably weaker, as she continued to scroll through her phone. Alyssa rolled her eyes, and grabbed the phone with her free hand, “Hey!”

No more phone for you, you’re just getting upset.

“At least give it back so I can play something while we wait,” Lynn pouted. Alyssa gave her a flat, disbelieving look, “I won’t even open facebook or instagram, okay?”

Uh huh, Alyssa didn’t believe THAT line for a second, but she handed Lynn her phone back. Probably a wise choice, given that it was nearly another two hours before their phones simultaneously ‘pinged’ with messages from either parent that it was time to come home now.

“I’m half tempted not to,” Lynn admitted, skipping a rock across the top of the pond, “But they’d probably just come looking for us like the time we got lost in the forest.”

Given that they discovered that the forest was full of non-linear paths, satanic fauna, and aggressive wolves. Alyssa wasn’t necessarily complaining about THAT particular rescue. But the two of them threw the last of their gathered pebbles skittering across the top of the water’s half-frozen surface before heading back to their street, and past the bus stop back to their home.

Lynnea got to the door first, skipping over all the icy bits of the walkway up the stairs, and stomping her boots free of dirty snow on the mat before shoving the door open and --

“SURPRISE!”

Alyssa isn’t sure which of them react first -- either way, they both had the SAME reaction; time freezes, suspended with the smell that could burn hair off anyone too close by. It was probably a good thing that they were both immune -- sort of -- by now to their particular brand of… superpower.

“Wha -- oh my god,” Lynnea said, as they surveyed the scene that they had just ripped one on, “Oh my god. It’s our birthday.”

...fuck me running, it is, Alyssa realized, looking around the living room.A banner hung above the kitchen doorway reading HAPPY BIRTHDAY in vibrant letters, a veritable mountain of presents below it on the table. It looked like EVERY kid their parents had ever seen them so much as look at for more than a few seconds was in there.

There was a sniffle from beside her, and Alyssa looked over to see Lynn tearing up, “Wh -- whoa, hey, what’s with the waterworks?” she asked, safe to speak with no one to hear her but her twin.

“We -- we’ve never celebrated it before,” Lynn hiccuped, wiping at her eyes.

Alyssa didn’t have time to say much else -- she could feel the air straining around them, like a rubber band about to snap. It was always disconcerting to snap back into place as time began to flow forward again, even if she hadn’t really moved all that much.

“Aw, dude, c’mon!” Stan said, waving a hand over his nose as, with time unfreezing, the smell of using their powers hit the rest of the party as well. Alyssa shrugged at him, scooting around the gaggle of girls that had surrounded Lynnea the moment they’d noticed the burgeoning waterworks, Motherfucker you all should know what happens when you surprise us, you’re lucky you didn’t get hit and we were still out on the step. Now one of you want to explain the fresh FUCK is happening here?

“Your parents invited all of us over,” Kyle expounded without much more prompting than her raised eyebrow.

“Why didn’t you two ever tell us when your birthday is?” Stan asks, which gets him a look, “Okay, why didn’t LYNN tell us when your birthday is, wise ass?”

Alyssa shrugged, You never asked.

“Lame excuse man,” Kenny said, “Wendy had to dig this shit up and suggest the party to your parents.”

And depending on how this goes, I owe that girl SO many cookies, or a punch in the face, Alyssa glanced over the boys’ heads, at the gaggle of girls surrounding her sister, who looked a lot less wet-eyed now, laughing and accepting gentle scoldings for likely the same thing the boys were digging at her about. Wendy caught her looking and grinned unapologetically, ...maybe cookies AND a punch in the face, she amended privately.

“Whatever, not like it’s a big deal anyway,” Cartman grumped, distracting her from Wendy and her smug ass grinning, “No kewl party has girls at it.”

“Dude. They’re twins. And Lynn’s a girl,” Craig deadpanned.

“Y-yeah, it’s b-both their parties, of c-course the girls are gonna be here,” Tweek said.

Cartman huffed, “Whatever. I’m gonna be over HERE, NOT getting cooties,” he said, shuffling off to the other side of the room.

“Ignore him,” Kyle said, rolling his eyes, “He’s just bitter that you two get more presents.”

“And that people actually want to give you presents that aren’t off an itemized list,” Kenny snickered.

Alyssa raised a brow, Okay, gonna have to fill me in on that one --

“Who wants to break the pinata?” Chris called from the direction of the backdoor.

--after I beat a paper mache donkey to death, move it assholes.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #294

“maybe it’s not too late to learn how to love and forget how to hate”

Is your bed big enough for two people? Yes. What is your favorite board game? I like Battleship. Have you ever been hospitalized for more than 2 weeks? I think one stay at the psych hospital stretched over two weeks, maybe three. I don't remember. When was the last time you heard someone scream? Irl, probably at some point visiting my sister's family and my baby niece was upset. If you include via audio, a couple days ago when watching Egoraptor's Kingdom Hearts 2 stream. He's a Loud Boy. Who was the last person to call you baby? I have no clue. Why did you last go to the airport? I was going home from Sara's. Have you ever showered with another person? Not since I was a little kid with my sister. Is there something you are keeping a secret from your parents? I mean, nothing major. There are small things I don't tell them, though. Are you able to forget people easily? FUCK to the NO. What disgusts you about bathrooms? Sharing a toilet with literally anybody. Have you ever had gum stuck in your hair? I mean maybe at some point, but I don't think so. What was the shortest amount of time you’ve known someone before you’ve dated them? If you’ve never been in a relationship before, do you watch Scrubs? I knew Jason maybe two/three weeks before he asked me out. We clicked so damn fast. Don’t you hate it when people talk about their relationships constantly? It can become a bit much. I have (had?) a friend who did this profusely to the point it was pretty impossible to have an actual conversation, and then she fell off the face of the planet. Being in love is an absolutely amazing thing, but like... that's not all you can talk about. Do you enjoy old movies? Yeah, there are some great ones. Do your neighbors annoy you in any way? Someone a few houses down has a dog that NEVER shuts the fuck up. I don't know how it doesn't lose its voice. What was the last party you were invited to? A Halloween party hosted by my friend Summer a few years ago. It was a good time. Are you honestly happy with your life right now? N O P E Do you find it fun to pray for people? I don't pray, but even if I did, "fun" seems like the wrong word. Generally when you pray for someone, there's something negative going on in their life, so like... I think "fulfilling" is maybe a better word? Has your mom ever crocheted you a blanket? My mom has deadass been working on a massive blanket since she was in her 20s (maybe even a tad younger), and she's at the tail end of her 50s. She works on it less than once in a blue moon. She started with the intention of passing it onto her kids. Do you regret letting a certain guy slip away? Debatable. It's questionable if I ever would have gotten competent help without Jason leaving, and if I didn't, what if he finally had enough when we were already married with kids (that's what I wanted at the time, anyway)? That would have broken me even worse. What show did you want to be on as a kid? Whatever the Nickelodeon one was where you got slimed lol. Do you have regrets? Of course I do. Does anyone really know you? My mom and Sara, at least. What song do you want played at your wedding? It depends on my partner and songs we consider special. Are you a fan of Taylor Swift? No. I do, however, love me some "Love Story." And you are LYYYYYYINNNNNGGGG if "Picture To Burn" doesn't make you feel like a Bad Bitch. Would you ever dye your hair unicorn colors? I would DIIIIIEEEEE to do that in pastel tints. I wish my damn hair took color well... I have literally only had ONE very effective hair dyeing experience, when my friend spent hours turning it red. It stuck for MONTHS. List 3 of your pet peeves. 1.) Turning tragedy into a competition; 2.) making mental illnesses "trendy;" and 3.) elitists of pretty much anything. Do you type fast? Very. What do you like to put on your pancakes? Typically just maple syrup, but I'll put butter on them if given it at a restaurant. Have you ever accidentally drank spoiled milk? I've taken a sip and immediately realized and spat it out. Have you ever had your heart broken? More like shattered into incalcuable pieces. When you were 3, was your natural hair color the same as it is now? No, I was dirty blonde. Have you ever received a scary message from someone online? Yes, I'm pretty sure. What does your first name rhyme with? "Infamy" is close enough, ig, if we're excluding other names. Do you have freckles on your face? No. I did as a kid, though. Who is your favorite Lisa Frank character? Probably the angel kitty (I had a coloring book, even), but they're all SO pretty. I love Lisa Frank stuff. Does your family always have your back? My mom and dad do, at least. My older sister does, meanwhile it's hard to tell with my little sister. She's not very affectionate and expressive of love to the point I question a lot if she even likes me. What type of wedding do you want to have? Gothic! Are you more of a leader or a follower? A follower, within reason. I'm definitely not a blind one. Do you know anyone with a profession in law? Quite a few, actually. Have you ever Googled yourself? Yeah, at some point. Do you have a regular vacation spot, or do you always go somewhere new? We don't really go on vacations. It's not an expense Mom can really afford. Where were you working 10 years ago? Nowhere. ... 5 years ago? Still nowhere. ... 1 year ago? Nowhere. What's the shortest amount of time you've had between relationships? Like a day. I know it sounds bad, but I left Girt already knowing I loved Sara, and I didn't really have anything to heal from. As a child, what comfort foods did your parents make for you when you were sick with a cold or flu? We'd have Saltines, chicken noodle soup (which I never really liked), and ginger ale. What's your favorite art style? Probably hyperrealistic fantasy stuff. What time period is considered to be your country's 'golden age?' I don't know, I'm not a history buff. Have you ever done LSD? I've never done any drugs. Are any of your coworkers currently out on maternity/paternity leave? N/A What is your favorite parody movie? Maybe the Paranormal Activity one. I barely remember it, though. What kind of first impression do you hope others have of you? That I'm kind and friendly and really care about their feelings. Do you have a good sense of balance? NOOOOOOOOOO. I stray like a motherfucker when I walk. Have for many years. It's weird. What is your least favorite ice cream flavor? Strawberry, ugh. Does your car have heated seats? No. What's something that has been in your local news lately? I don't watch it. What's your favorite internet meme? Oh, I have no clue, I love memes lmao. What is the strangest pizza topping you've ever eaten? Nothing, really. I'm not very adventurous with pizza. Can you name any books or movies where all the main characters die? Not off the top of my head. Do you live alone? No, I live with my mother. What’s the grossest thing you’ve encountered in/at a fast food joint? *shrug* Do you swallow chewing gum? No. Do you ever get goosebumps while listening to songs? EXTREMELY easily. Like that is so, so regular, be it from the lyrics, the singer's voice, or just the music. Are there any amusement park rides you refuse to go on? Why? Most, really. I get dizzy way, way too easily and don't want to faint. What is the best roller coaster you’ve ever been on? I'm afraid of roller coasters, so I can't answer this. Never touched one. Don’t you think black jellybeans are icky? Ugh, YES. What was the last thing you measured with a ruler? I helped Mom use the long, flexible kind to measure the couch because she was gonna move some furniture around. What’s the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen? Oh, I'm sure the mountains when driving to Tennessee. I was too young to remember it well, but I can never forget that I marveled over them. Would you rather have a Playstation or Xbox made console? I'm a Playstation gal. What if you were watching COPS and saw your significant other on there? I'm... not gonna lie, if it was Jason for doing something stupid and not, like, murderous, I'd probably cackle. Have you ever tried to write to any celebrities? No. When was the last time you blew bubbles? I ain't got a clue. Have you ever stumbled across a beehive? More like wasp nests. What food(s) make you cringe? Quite a lot, given my extreme selectiveness with textures. More than anything, probably egg yolk. Have you ever played an automated 20 Questions game and beat it? Ha, I actually had one of those! I have, but damn was that hard. Have you been to a restaurant where they cook the food in front of you? Yup, Ichiban. Pretty cool. Do you feel that presidential campaigns make people too competitive? I mean, no. People care about who is going to be the head of their country. Do you find Family Guy hilarious or offensive? Neither. Do you still write letters to people, even though there’s e-mail now? No. Have you ever had an accident involving a microwave? Ha, I'm a travesty of a cook, so yeah. I remember on one occasion I accidentally dialed in many minutes for popcorn and entirely forgot about it. Safe to say I didn't eat it. I've split hot dogs in there, and I'm certain there's more. Do you like the movie Forrest Gump? I adore that movie. One of the best films ever imo. Can you handle heat well? I honestly doubt you'll meet someone who handles it worse than me, especially physically. I have severe hyperhidrosis, so I will literally sweat like a pig in 70* weather. I absolutely cannot handle it. Do you smoke weed? What are your opinions on its legalization? No. Legalize it for at least medicinal purposes. Have you ever had a school shooting at your school? HA, I can promise you my high school must have at some point. Are you usually the first to do something, or are you more of a follower? I don't pay attention to this. What is your favorite way to eat a potato? Fries, yum. Are roses your favorite flower? No, but they're high on the list. Have you ever been to a horse race? No. I think they're abusive anyway. Do you like lobster? No. Have you ever swam in a lake? Yeah. There's one lake I swam in that was so clear you could see pretty far and just watch the fish and turtles. Have you ever convinced someone to show you their private parts? "Convinced"????? That's fucking coercion. I've seen people naked, but not by fucking pressure. What is the greatest treasure you have ever found? My older sister found a cracked amethyst geode once. Idk where it's at now, but I hope she (or we at the house, depending on where it is) finds it at some point, though. My niece has come to love smooth rocks and pebbles, and I think crystals would blow her away, never mind one that size. Do you eat beef? Regrettably. Are you good at card games? I mean, what's the game? I'm not exceptional at any I can think of. What is your favorite musical? I don't like musicals. Did you ever play the Oregon Trail game? Omg yes!!! I LOVED playing it as a kid, especially the 3rd one, I think? Do you watch It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia? No. Who is your favorite country singer? I actually do enjoy Tim McGraw pretty consistently, but I don't actually seek out his music. Do you know anyone who is Mormon? An old best friend was. Do you like grunge? Yeah. What’s your favorite kind of cheese? American. What’s the most historic thing that has happened in your lifetime? Most likely Covid. What’s your funniest story involving a car? It's not hilarious, but once we were behind someone whose license plate said "omw" lmao. What scientific discovery would change the course of humanity overnight if it was discovered? Well, a proven Covid vaccine. Do you think that humans will ever be able to live together in harmony? Nope. What’s the scariest non-horror movie? Idk. What’s the most amazing true story you’ve heard? I'm not sure. What’s the most awkward thing that happens to you on a regular basis? Having to explain my Mark tribute tattoo lmao. What was one of the most interesting concerts you’ve been to? I've only ever seen Alice Cooper, and while it was great, "interesting" seems like the wrong word. Where are you not welcome anymore? Probably Jason's house, at least not by him. Or Colleen's, probably. Idk how she feels about me by now. What’s the most recent show you’ve binge watched? Avatar: The Last Airbender w/ Sara. What’s a common experience for many people that you’ve never experienced? Paying bills. What’s the smartest thing you’ve seen an animal do? I kid you not, our first cat would look both ways twice before crossing the street across our house. (Please do not allow your cats outside.) She'd do it even more when bringing her kittens there too to hunt. Chance was truly incredible. I could really give a lot of examples of her intelligence. I also had another childhood cat (my favorite before Roman) who would respond to a certain clap pattern I'd do if Mom let me bring him inside. Wherever Charcoal was wandering, he'd come running. What’s the dumbest thing someone has argued with you about? Oh, I'm sure it was RP-related stuff as a kid. What’s the longest rabbit hole you’ve been down? I'unno. What’s the saddest scene in a movie or TV series? Possible spoiler warning for a super old movie??? Probably when the main character of Old Yeller had to put the dog down because of rabies. But I cry like a bitch easily, so maybe there's something that tears me up even more or just as badly. What odd smell do you really enjoy? None that are "odd," really. What’s the coolest animal you’ve seen in the wild? I've seen a mink once when fishing with Dad deep in the woods. What’s the best lesson you’ve learned from a work of fiction? Oh, I don't know. I'd have to think for a while & I don't feel like it. What food do you crave most often? Probably ice cream. Who in your life has the best/worst luck? I don't know about best, but my mom absolutely has the worst luck. Which apocalyptic dystopia do you think is most likely? A meteor, maybe? If you had a HUD that showed three stats about any person you looked at, what three stats would you want it to show? I'd want to know if they were criminals or just dangerous. What’s the funniest thing you’ve seen a kid do? Oh, my niece is so funny. One of the things that gave me the biggest laugh (and was most adorable) was this time I was taking family pictures for Ash at a local lake, and Aubree went running into the gazebo, span around totally like in a princess movie, and exclaimed, "It's enormous!" She is such a darling. If people could read your mind, what would they usually find? Just how bored I am, memories of Jason bc trauma, lamenting my disappointment in myself, "why is Mark so perfect," worrying about Sara, thinking of RP character developments... What celebrity would you like to meet? Mark. 100%. I would die to just thank him (if I could get words out, oof) and hug him and try not to soak his shirt in tears lmao. Do you need money to be happy? Don't bullshit me, you wouldn't be happy homeless because you can't afford a home. So to a degree, yes. What's a good idea you've had recently? Hm. What gift would you like to receive? At this current moment, Cloak's (Mark and Jacksepticeye's clothing brand) limited edition "life after death" design for a shirt. It is so fucking pretty, and I love the nature focus. What are you most excited about right now? Honestly? Getting my laptop back. I wanna play WoW lmao. What's your favorite song from a movie? Maybe uhhhhhh was "Supermassive Black Hole" actually written for Twilight? Where would you like to volunteer? I very, very badly want to volunteer to take pictures of animals up for adoption in shelters for like their social medias and stuff. I've asked like the two local places, but no bites yet. What's the last song you listened to? Metallica's cover of "Turn The Page." What's the last YouTube video you watched? I'm watching Gab Smolders play SOMA. Fantastic game.

[seiya234]

(what is your earliest memory, Acacia Pines?)

----

The thing about being a parent that no one tells you is that sooner or later, you are going to fuck up.

You can love your kids more than anything else in the world but at some point you are going to misstep and fuck them up slightly but irrevocably.

It’s unavoidable- you are human and imperfect and a mom but not Mom- but even knowing that….

It still hurts.

Almost as much as thinking about how your own mom was a mom and not Mom.

-----

Every year Mom would put together their birthday parties.

And what parties they were! There was the year where she got all the unicorns to come and play rave music out of their horns while Acacia taught her friends to do the worm. Or when they were sixteen and Mom organized a scavenger hunt that covered the entirety of Roadkill County and they weren’t allowed to ask Uncle Dipper to help and it ended with Acacia hotwiring the Stanmobile and driving to Bend for the last component.

(though the less said about Acacia’s twelfth birthday party, where the gnomes crashed in demanding a new queen, the better)

But the older Acacia got, the more a tiny nagging part of her couldn’t help but notice that while her and Hank and Willow were supposed to be the center of the party…. Mom would still be there also in the middle, beaming like the sun as everyone congratulated her on another party well done, asking her for her secrets, could she plan their party-?

(Acacia articulated the thought fully for the first time when she was sixteen and change, and thought she was being a bitch. Twenty four year old Acacia, gently turning down Mom’s offer to throw them a weird 8 themed birthday party, saw things a little more clearly.)

-----

Babies were hard, especially when you had two of them.

Acacia and Reina were lucky if they got five hours of sleep a night. They managed to get Stan sleeping in his own bed by six months but Josefa still only wanted to be in their bed and she was almost a year old and Acacia wanted just one night, just one fucking night to actually cuddle up to her wife, and not have a tiny human on her tit half the night-

To say nothing of the constant last minute child proofing they had to do, the weird egg allergy Nito was starting to display, and how Josefa wanted to constantly lay on Nito while Nito wanted nothing to do with his sister and trying to find time to paint not only for her state of mind but because that was how she earned money and-

A thousand tiny things, happening all at once.

And yet, it was so very easy right now to parent them. Because at least for right now, Acacia didn’t have to worry that she had just Fucked Them Up.

----

Willow got Mom a gag shirt once that said “Manic Pixie Dream Mom” and they had all laughed and no one had noticed that Acacia was a beat behind. 

Not that Acacia would ever want Mom to change-

(and as a Mom herself now, the idea of changing to conform to some idea of Momdom was utterly repugnant to Acacia)

-but, well. Mom was... a Lot. 

Like Mom making pancakes with half a bag of sugar and sprinkles and cocoa powder sounded good in theory but when that was every time she made pancakes it was... a Lot. 

Or waking up to find that Mom had labeled everything in the house with her new label maker, including all of their toys and clothes because “Labels are neat!” was... a Lot.

And the less said about the time someone gifted mom four literal actual barrels of glitter the better; it was fifteen years later and Acacia still was brushing glitter out of her hair every time she went home and christ was that A Lot.

She could depend and trust on Mom with her life. Acacia knew from a young age, that Mom would always feed and clothe her, keep her warm and safe, and above all, loved her more than life itself. And that was a beautiful thing, just like Mom being who she was was a beautiful thing, and something Acacia would never change no matter what

(but it was still exhausting having a manic pixie dream mom, when sometimes all you wanted was a regular boring mom who didn’t wake you up at 330am to collect unicorn farts) 

----

Mom was definitely, absolutely not selfish. Acacia would punch the first motherfucker who ever dared say that to her face. 

Mabel Pines was not selfish; you only had to look at what she did for her family, for her community (for her brother) to know that.

No, what Mom was was.... thoughtless.  And enthusiastic. And no one ever really told her no. The three weren’t a good combination. 

“All ideas are good ideas!” she had told them once on their way to class in the second grade and that had made sense at the time, but the older Acacia got the more she realized that... well, no sometimes bad ideas are just bad ideas. 

(”Am I a shithead?” she had asked Reina one night, after a pregnancy hormone induced sobbing fit. Reina sighed, and kept running her hands through Acacia’s hair. 

“No, you’re just human.”)

---

The hardest part of becoming a grown up, of becoming a parent, is realizing that the image of your Mom from childhood is not the same as who she really is.

---

(what is your earliest memory, Acacia Pines?)

a soft hand on her shoulder, and opening her eyes to see Mom. 

“Hey sweetie. Wanna see something cool?”

Being carried down the stairs still in her jammies, only her and Mom, no Hank or Willow, no uncles, just the two of them, out onto the porch and into the yard, the dew making Mom’s jammies wet.

Stopping in the middle of a field, Mom shifting her to her hip, and then pointing into the trees.

“Look there Acacia.” 

And there, on the branch of the pine tree Mom was pointing to, was the biggest bird Acacia had ever seen, bigger than her even. 

(to this day, Acacia wasn’t sure if it was a thunderbird or a very lost California Condor)

They sat their in the beautiful quiet, their clothes getting slowly soaked, Mom’s warm arms around her and Mom’s chin on top of her head, watching the bird until it flew away.

[artisticestheticreads]

ROXANNE: Back When

  A/N: This is a flashback scene to Roxanne as a teen so unfortunately there is no Killmonger in this chapter but do not worry he will be back. I advise you to read this chapter because this well explain everything about that made Roxxx Roxxx and everything that will lead up to the rest of the series.

Warning: Blood, rape, molestation, very long (sorry.) You may or may not cry but just know that I did as I was writing.

Song Recommendation: lovely by Billie Ellish

Word Count: 5707

    The bed creaked beneath as her most precious place was being abused. As the man rested his head in the crook of her neck, he groaned and moaned; making her sick to her stomach. Her eyes were trained to look up at the ceiling, making a silent prayer to past the time. Ever since she was brought here from the foster care, she was taken advantage of by her foster father. Once, only once, did she try to fight back but that did nothing; it made him only want her more with the thrill of altercation. So, she stopped in hopes it would end but it never did and may never will.

         A few moments later, she was freshly showered wearing a matching sweat suit and hair in messy from her hood. She stared below at the plate resting in front of her, with no appetite. She wouldn’t dare eat the food they made for her; no seasoning, no flavor, no taste at all. The others ate around her, one being a Caucasian woman with blonde hair and the same man who was just on top of her hours ago; he ate his food across from her like he was the king of the household. The wife looked to the young lady and said “Roxanne, honey. How come you are not eating?” Roxanne looked to her on the right and said: “I ain’t hungry, Jessica. I never am.”  The woman smiled small and said, “you know you can call me mother, right?”

“But I ain’t. Never have and never will.” Jessica sat quiet and that’s when she felt it. The man barefoot was crawling up her leg, making Roxanne hold her breath. Roxanne stood and fixed her hoodie, before going out to her room, slamming the door and ran into her shared bathroom. She stood there unzipping her jacket with shaky finger tips. The scars that covered her neck and chest seemed as they would never heal even with all the prayer in the world. She finally went on the roof by her room and looked out to the sky wishing she was far away from here, this hell hole she was stuck at. She wanted to be with her family in Jamaica but it was just too expensive for a passport and she hasn’t talked to them in years. They could have been long gone by now and they only thing she had to remember them by was her father’s cross she wore around her neck. She heard her door open and began to move fast so that whoever entered couldn’t see her.

Roxanne heard the footsteps approaching her window and felt a warm hand on hers. She looked towards the person and saw her angel, her “sister” Franny, they were around the two years older than her; Fran being about eightteen. The young lady was a Latina who was barely home due to work and schooling. She had chestnut brown hair with hazel eyes and freckles covered by make up. Franny had just come back from work at a restaurant with a bag of food; she handed it to her and Roxanne fully accepted it. “I see you didn’t eat today either, Roxxx”, Franny said as she sat next to her. Roxanne opened the container of food to see nice, warm fries and pastrami; she dug right in. Fran handed her a bottle of ice-cold water and made her drink it. “I’m guessing Jessica made that tired ass five layer casserole again.”

“Yeah, but their ass should know I don’t eat that shit. The last time I did, I was on the toilet for months.” Franny giggled quietly so the folks didn't hear. She noticed the cut on Roxanne’s wrist and said “sis, why harm ya self? Ya know that ain’t gonna make the pain end, right?” Roxanne looked to her then away while eating; she finished her food and placed the container in the bag. Franny shook her head and said “Roxxx, I know we aren’t real family but you know I will always have your back. I know you don’t wanna talk about it but”, Franny looked around them and scooted closer. “I know what he does to you and it ain’t right. You can go to cops-.”

“And then what? Huh? Be put back in foster care then I end up on the streets with nowhere to go? If I tell the pigs, do you think that they will believe a poor little black girl that was born in Baldwin Hills instead of a rich white muthafucka who can twist the sick truth and make it a lie?” She had her arms rested on her folded legs while looking out to the ground. Francesca looked in the same direction and said “it’s just gonna keep happening if you don’t do anything”; Roxanne looked away from her to hide her tears. Franny looked at her and said “want me to sleep with you tonight? We can watch some shit on my phone.” Roxanne looked to her and before they knew it, they lied in her bed. Roxanne lied her head onto Francesca’s full breasts and found comfort as always; listening to her heartbeat.

A WEEK LATER

 Roxanne and Francesca sat next to each other at the dinner table with their foster parents as they ate breakfast which Franny made. Being that she was fully Latin, she knew how to make food taste good. She made fluffy pancakes, steak, and eggs with all the seasonings. She smiled to herself as she noticed Roxxx eating, slowly but surely; she gave her that nickname. Robert looked to the girls before digging back into his plate. His foot was about to reach Roxxx but that was until he felt a kick to his shin. “Motherfucker”, he screamed in pain as Jessica looked down. “What happened, love,” she asked as Robert looked towards the girls, Franny giving him the look of death. Robert looked to Jessica and said “nothing, honey. Just hit my shin trying to get comfortable.” He smiled before eating again. “You should be careful, Robert. People can lose a leg like that”, Franny said making Roxxx smile. Jessica cleared her throat and asked the girls “so, girls. What are the plans today? It’s the weekend and Francesca is off the whole time.”

“I was gonna take Roxanne to the mall for an early birthday celebration since I’ll be working next week. The whole nine yards. Hair, nails and a whole new wardrobe. Gotta make sure she brings in the 17th year just right”, Francesca bumped shoulders with her and smiled before Robert said, “Roxanne can’t go.” The girls looked to him and Jessica asked: “why not, Robert?”

“Because- because she rather would be here with us… as a family. Right, honey”, he said looking to Roxanne who looked at him. She took a deep breath and said: “I rather go out, with my sister.” Franny smiled as they began eating again and as they did, Roxanne felt fingers intertwine with hers under the table. She grabbed the hand tightly as Franny said “Buen Trabajo, niña. (Good job, girl).”

  After breakfast, Roxanne wore an all blue sweatsuit and a pair of busted converse while Franny wore a yellow body con dress, jean jacket, and matching sneakers. They were off on to the bus and sat there listening to Franny’s music through her earbuds. Franny held Roxanne’s hand as they made their way to Beverly Center. Roxanne looked through the window as Franny watched her. In Franny’s eyes, Roxanne was so innocent and young; she remembered when she was like that before Robert took advantage of her. She remembered when they first took in Roxanne, she was so quiet and timid but Franny saw that she had a fire and passion in her. She tried her hardest to protect young Roxanne but it was too late; telling by the screams coming from the fifteen year olds room at night. Fran held Roxanne’s hand tighter at the memory.

 The girls soon arrived at the mall, walking up the escalator to get to the very top level. Roxanne looked for clothes in the man section in F21 as Francesca watched. She shook her head and took her hand into hers. “Roxxx, you can’t be rocking clothes that would fall of ya ass, mi amor. I know it’s hard but you just have to and I’ll help.” Roxanne looked to her then to the clothes they were now standing in front of at the moment. There were tons of fitted jeans, tube tops and other cropped tops that would surely cover her figure. Roxanne picked up a tee that had the word west coast written on it in bedazzlement and all. It was a ruby red and would look amazing against her chocolate skin; too revealing for her taste.

  “You’ll look great in that. But let’s look for a smaller size. You see, your torso is smaller than ya chest. But no worries, we can find ya some cute panties and bras too. We have to make sure you look god no matter what.” Franny began searching through to find a medium as Roxanne watched her. “Fran, my clothes are just fine. I don’t get why you want me to get dressed up for Rob”- Francesca had cut her off as she pointed at her face. “Roxanne, do you really think I give that son of a bitch a fuck, hm? That man is a piece of shit and you and I both know it. Shit, even his dumb ass wife knows it.” Roxanne looked around to see only a pair of people looking their way. “Can we help y’all? Wanna see some titties or something”; the pair scurried off. Fran looked back at Roxanne and said “baby girl, she been knew. The walls are thin as hell. But do you really think that she will leave him because of that? No. Bitches like her don’t give a fuck. They only in it for the money. Believe that.” Francesca began looking through jeans beside them and looked to her waist before looking back at the sizes. Roxxx leaned against the table and whispered “Jess- she knows about him and I?”

   Francesca nodded feeling the anger again. “I went to her about it and she looked me dead in the eyes and said ‘I know but it has nothing to do with me. As long as he is happy.’ I wanted to deck her in her shit eating face when she said that.” Franny took a deep breath, rubbed her neck and that is when Roxxx noticed it. When Fran moved her hand, she noticed that there was a huge gash scar on her neck that had healed. Roxanne moved Fran’s hair and almost lost control. She whispered, saying “ did he- did Robert do this to you, Fran?” She looked to Roxxx then away to blink away tears and nodded. Franny placed some clothes in Roxanne’s shopping bag and started to explain as they walked around. “It was the night after the incident, when you first got there like a month later. A week later, he went into my room trying to take advantage of me but I was ready for him. He tried to come in to my room but I was ready for him, if only I was fast enough.”

 After they paid for everything, they made their way to get a snack. Roxanne watched Franny as she ate like she was bothered by her past. “How do you do it?” Franny looked up and said “what you mean?”

“I mean, how do you act like nothing is bothering you?” Franny chuckled in her throat and said “you know, I wish I could tell you. But enough of that”, she passed her an envelope with a card inside. Once she opened the car, hundreds of dollars fell out onto her lap. Roxanne looked up to her and said “holy shit. Fran, what is this for?” Franny made her way to sit next to Roxanne and said “to get away. You tried before and I know that Robert has motherfuckers all around here but I had this all planned out. Tomorrow night, you will escape. There is an address inside the card, all written in Spanish and how to get there along with a key. Just say you know Little Dagger and a bell hop will escort you to the room. In there, go straight to the fridge. You will be able to stay two months; it is all paid for.”

“But-but how? Why?” Franny held her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Why do you think I been working all those crazy shifts for so long?” Roxanne examined Fran’s almond eyes and pulled her into a hug. She was so happy to finally get away but then she started to wonder. “Franny, what about you.” Francesca smiled while fixing Roxanne’s hair and said “don’t worry about me. I got it all handle. I won’t be there for long, either way. I got myself but know it is your turn.” Fran dug in her purse and said “here, another gift. It’s a dagger just in case but you need it more than me. If he tries anything tonight, slice his bitch ass.” They both smiled to each as Fran kissed Roxanne’s cheek. Later on that day, Roxanne and Fran made their way back to the house but something was different. Roxanne had short French tips and her hair was braided in six cornrows with beads on the end. She was out of the unappealing clothing that the parental bought her and in a white spaghetti top and forming jeans with a pair of all new running shoes.

 The girls walked in the house hoping to not see the folks but instead they heard a sparkling water crack open along with gulping. They looked to their right and saw the man they both despised staring directly at Roxanne. “Well, well. What happened to my baby girl”, Robert chuckled as Francesca rolled her eyes. As he was about to touch her, Roxanne leaned back and swatted his hand. “Do not touch me. Fran, let’s go to my room.” Franny nodded as she let Roxanne pass her and up the stairs. Franny watched as Robert observed her go up and said “if you try anything, I will end ya fucking life. Try me, fucker.” She ran up the stairs and slammed the door closed.

LATER THAT NIGHT

    Roxanne was in a pair of jogger shorts, tube socks and an oversized hoodie, fast asleep as Franny was showering. All of a sudden, the bedroom door open. Robert took a deep breath as he noticed the shower water running. He pulled up Roxanne’s chair from her desk and jammed it underneath the bathroom door knob which made Francesca eyes to jolt open. She hopped out, stopping the shower and pulling her pjs on before trying to open the door when she realized he was there. She began banging and banging eventually making Roxanne wake up once he reached her bed. All of sudden, she moved from the bed in speed trying to get the door to open but he pulled her by the braids and back into the bed. He hopped on top of her and said “look at you, dressed like a naughty school girl, ready for me.” He held her arms up and over her head when she began to knee him in the chest”, that caused the perfect distraction to what would happen next. She grabbed her new dagger and stuck him like a pin cushion once and watched his eyes water. He screamed as he curved over in pain until a chair hit him in the back of the skull.

 Roxanne looked up to the person and saw her chest rising up and down as she dropped the remains of the chair. “Told you, bitch”, Franny said with a grin, looking at Robert on the ground. Roxanne stood and ran to Fran’s arms, finally asking, “Is he dead”? Fran looked to his back and said “nope. He is breathing, just unconscious. But fuck going tomorrow. Go to the hotel tonight. All the instructions are in the card in Spanish.” Franny picked up her duffle filled with the clothes and money she gave her. She wiped the dagger’s blood onto her with her shirt, along her own knife she had handy and handed Roxy a cellphone with her clean hand. “I will call from my other cell when I feel like you are safe.”

   Fran began pushing her to the window until she sensed Jessica’s car pulling up. She looked over at their neighbor when she saw her calling Jessica over. Her eyes fell to Roxanne and said “go through the back and hop over the fence on the other side. Take care of yourself, mi amour. NOW GO!” Roxanne began running through the back door when Jessica ran upstairs from the front, never bumping into Roxanne. Roxanne ran to freedom in the rain, as fast as she can to the bus stop but back at the house, Francesca wasn’t as lucky. Her face was pressed into the squad car as the ambulance took Robert away; Jessica cried her eyes out to the cops as her husband was rushed to the hospital. They lifted Franny’s body off the car, cuffed as she smiled out looking towards the direction she knew Roxanne took.

  Hours later, Roxanne finally reached a hotel that was too good to be true. As she walked inside, she noticed the decor around her with tall ceilings, glass chandelier a golden accents. A couple of bell hops were in a group waiting for work , which made Roxanne confused to which one to talk to. She walked up to the men and said “hello, I know Little Dagger”, with that, they all looked at her then to one dark tan man with a goatee. He grabbed her bag and led her to the very top floor. Once they reached the floor, he opened the door to a room and she couldn’t believe it. There was a queen size bed covered in white sheets and plenty of fluffy pillows with a red towel in the shape of a swan. When she looked over at the window, she saw the nicest red couch she had ever seen and a fifty inch screen onto the wall. She noticed that the dresser underneath the screen had an envelope with her name on it. As the bell hop, left and shut the door, Roxanne placed her bag on the floor and picked up the envelope; opening in and beginning to read.

My Roxanne,

You finally made it safe and sound. I am so proud of you, my love. I know that you will learn from all that has happened and it will make you a better, stronger woman. I have a lot to say but this card isn’t big enough to say it all. I just want you to know that I am so fortunate to know someone like you. You showed me that not all people are cruel and heartless. Whe you first came into the house, I was skeptical; not sure why but when I saw you play in the yard with the other kids and drawing in your sketch book, I saw a soul I had to protect and keep safe. You may think that I tried nothing to save you earlier but as you know now that I tried my hardest to do as such. I could only do so much and it drove me crazy. I did not want you thinking I had took all those crazy shifts, work all those countless hours to get away from you; I did all of that to get you away from the horrid place we resided in. My Roxanne, I know that you don’t have family here in Los Angeles and that you do not know about your folks but just know that you have gained a friend, a sister in myself I will love you to the moon and back and all over again. I left you a t-shirt box in the closet as a last gift; I hope it helps you on your journey to become who you once were.

-Francesca

  Roxanne went over to the closet to flick the light on and noticed tons of brand new clothes and shows with luggage inside. Roxanne looked at every piece of clothing and noticed a varsity bomber jacket hanging up with a lion on the back roaring; the words Lion Babe embroiled around his mane. She saw the t-shirt box wrapped in gold paper and she sat on her knees, opening it slowly and what she saw inside was a note. “. I love you, Roxanne Montgomery. And, yes, you are no longer a foster anymore.” Roxanne smiled at the mention of her last name when she noticed a small sheet that looked to be…

“Holy shit, it’s my social security number.” She began looking through everything and saw that Franny had retrieved her social security card and birth certificate; she began crying her heart out with tears of joy, thankful for her angel.

ONE MONTH LATER.

 Roxanne was in bed looking at the phone Franny left for her; it had been a month since she heard her voice and it made her worry. To get her mind right, she decided to go to the mall in Crenshaw. She got dressed in a white wife beater, distressed jeans and her varisty jacket, she slid on her sneakers, grabbed her bag, locked her door and made her way on the bus. Roxanne played with the locks of her ginger curls and looked out to the world she passed by.  She got off by the mall and began walking to the Fat Burger in the plaza when a guy bumped into her with a slushie. He cursed himself as he picked up the cup and threw it in the trash while Roxanne checked her outfit, no stains. “My little momma, I ain’t see you-“, he said but his words cut off when he finally looked at her; the hair was a dead giveaway for sure. “Roxxx”, he said as he slowly walked up to her looking at her stitched brows. He pulled her into a kiss and hug that made her confused to the point she pulled out her dagger and pushed him into a wall, holding him by his shirt. “Who the fuck are you to just kiss me like that-“

“Roxxx, get a good look at me, baby girl.” She did just that and noticed things that triggered her memory. The slight scar under his left eye, his almond shaded eyes, his small smirk and that dark onyx skin. “D’Angelo”, she closed her dagger and placed in her small bag before grabbing his ears that were once huge and never fit him. Tears fell down her round cheeks as she cried. “It’s- it’s really you”, she said as cried more to the point he had a few tears dropping down his self. He grabbed her into a hug, rubbing her back and smelling her hair as she cried more; she still smelled like castor and coconut oil. They found their selves standing in line about to order some food. He looked down to Roxanne and grinned as he saw her playing with the curl in the front of her hair. He wondered how she was doing but soon noticed the scars on the inside of her arm. As they ordered their food, he was in another world, like if he was on auto pilot. They sat waiting for their food when Roxanne noticed his stare. “You good, bruh. You looking at me like you seen a ghost.”

“Why? Why you got so many cuts, sis?” She look to her arm then down at her feet, dangling and avoiding eye contact. “It’s a long story that you don’t wanna hear.” He leaned back in his seat, arms folded and said “go ahead.” She took a deep breath and told him every gritty, skin crawling detail. D’Angelo couldn’t believe it, his long lost friend, first kiss before she was basically kidnapped without a trace went through so much pain and suffering and he couldn’t be there to save her. Since her folks were taken from her and she away from him and his family she called her own, his parents tried find her but the government informed them that she was long gone, making it seem like she was dead. His family grieved for months since he was younger and tried to heal but he never really did after his brother was born and after his father passed away. D’Angelo slouched a bit into his seat feeling all the pain in her cracking voice and couldn’t help but let tears fall as he watched her.

 Roxanne wiped her tears away with her sleeve and looked away. “Where is Francesca”, she heard and she said “been almost two months now.” D’Angelo stood, sat beside her and brought her head to his chest, making her rubbing his chiseled back for comfort. “Well, she did her job. Now, it’s my turn.” He kissed her head and before they knew it, they gave their food to homeless people outside and was in the car. He buckled her seatbelt for her and began driving. As he drove, she looked out the window watching the kids past by when she saw them. A family of three- father, mother and daughter, African American it seemed, holding hands and passing by with big smiles on their face. All of a sudden, they pulled up into a long driveway of a dark green, one story home. She sat there as the door open and saw a hand held out to her. “C’mon, you safe here, Roxy”, D’Angelo said as she took his hand. Roxy got out and as he closed the door, she looked around then to see little kids playing around. A younger boy was chasing some little girls with a water gun as they giggled and all; Roxanne smiled.

They began walking to the door when the same little boy bumped into her thigh and he fell; Roxanne turned to see his big eyes at her with butt on the ground. D’Angelo picked him up and said “baby boy, you gotta be careful. We are in the presence of a lady. What do we say?” That’s when she noticed that they had to be brothers; twins even. The boys looked to Roxanne and the little boy held his little hand out. “I am sorry, ma’am. I am Raymond. Do you forgive me?” She smiled small and shook his hand, nodding. Raymond smiled showing his big goofy grin with two front teeth missing making her smile more. Raymond leaned into his big brother’s ear and whispered saying “I like her, Angel.”

Once D’Angelo unlocked the door, their mom was cooking, listening to Marvin Gaye. Roxanne can smell the meatloaf, mash potatoes and Mac and cheese making her stomach growl more. As they walked in, Miss Taylor said “uh oh, I can smell the outside. That means my babies are home.” She wiped her hands clean ready to get all the hugs but instead her hands found a place over her mouth. She looked to her boys then to the young lady beside them. She looked exactly like her mother and father mixed all up. Her ginger hair and brown skin triggered very fond memories. Taylor walked up to Roxanne, placing her hands over onto her shoulders. “Roxanne”, she said into a timid voice. She can see all the pain she had been through years since her parents were taken from her, in her eyes. Roxanne looked over Miss Taylor’s face as a smile crept her face; she definitely remembered her auntie’s eyes. They were so big, warm and gentle; she instantly gave Miss Taylor a big hug, arms wrapped around waist. She lied her face on to her chest, tears staining her shirt.

D’Angelo stood back watching as his mother held his good friend in warm embrace while he held Raymond. Raymond asked “Angel, why is that girl crying?” D’Angelo looked to his brother when he felt a tear and said “because, baby boy, she found her family.” Raymond looked to him then to Roxanne and his mother who both cried.

Dinner was soon ready and they began to eat but afterwards, they all sat in the living room as Raymond watched Tom and Jerry, playing with his Tonka Truck. D’Angelo watched Roxanne as her and Ma talked Miss Taylor found the marks on her arm, making her heart drop. “I’m glad you are safe now and that mean family is nowhere near my baby. I wish we could thank the young lady who helped my god baby.”

“Me too. I haven’t heard from her since the accident. I hope she is okay.” All of a sudden, they heard ringing coming from her bag; she politely excused herself and went outside to answer. “Hello?”

“This a call from the San Diego Correctional Facility. Please say yes to accept the call or hang up for no.” Roxanne started to breathe heavily as she sat on the steps on her porch. Who could it be? “I accept.” All of sudden, her heart stopped when she heard the voice. “My Roxanne, you’re safe.” Roxanne heart couldn’t bare it, her sister was in prison and this broke her heart. “Mi amour, please don’t be mad that I haven’t called. As you can hear, I’ve been tied up”, Francesca said with a nervous chuckle to lighten the mood. Roxanne took a deep breath before saying “why? Fran, why are you there?” Franny looked around at the tan walls and the crowd around her as she wore a bright orange jumpsuit. “I shouldn’t say much but it’s because of Robert. Jessica –uh, she pressed charges, and testified against me. Even with evidence, he is still out there. But as long as you are safe, that is all that matters. How are you?”

“I’m, I’m fine. I miss you a lot, Franny. I really do.”

“Awe, mi amour. I missed you too. Have you made any friends?”

“I actually, I actually found my family. My God family.” Franny slid her back down the wall and said “Roxy, that’s so great. I am so happy for you. Will you be finishing school?” Roxanne nodded on the found and said “yes, well I will be taking summer classes but yeah.” Francesca smiled from the other line and had a few tears drop. “I am very happy for you, love. Just make one promise to me. Promise that you will live your life your way and be happy. Be free for me, okay?”

“I promise, Fran but it would be better if you were here with me though.”

“Sister, I will always be with you, in spirit and the heart. Take care of yourself. I will try to keep in touch.”

“Thank you, Franny. For everything. I love you.”

“Take care.” With that, the call ended and Roxanne held the phone to her chest as Angel came out with his jacket. “You good, baby girl?” She looked to him and said “yeah, I’m fine. Where you heading to?”

“To get your stuff from ya room. You’ll be staying with us and if we catch Home Depot before close, we can get a copy of the house key made for you. Let’s get going”, he told her as he handed put her jacket on her. They began on their journey to the hotel and back home from Home Depot when she noticed a nearby tattoo shop. “Hey, Angel. Do you think we can go to that shop on our way back?” He chuckled and said “sure why not?” Hours later, they made their way back and she stood at the glass counter of the shop. An older black woman with plugs in her ear and tattoos all over her small frame watched the couple and asked “what can I do for y’all?” Roxanne looked to D’Angelo and said “I wanna get a couple tattoos.” The woman asked “are you over eighteen?” Roxanne’s eyes fell to D’Angelo and said “no, but he is.” D’Angelo nodded and signed the form for her. Roxanne kissed his cheek as she handed him her jacket. She lied onto the sterilized chair and looked over at the artist as she prepped. “So, what are we getting tonight, love?”

HOURS LATER.

 Roxanne stood in an oversized tee and sweats as removed the wrapping around her left wrists. She smiled down at the new ink that covered all the marks she made on herself over the years. A vine of huge red roses covered them beautifully and meant the world to her but the tattoo behind her right ear meant more; a dagger with a faux sparkle at the blade represented Franny as her protection and what kept her safe. She smiled at her reflection as she made her way to the guest bedroom in a nice plush bed, the smell of incense burning in the air.

She sat in bed holding her pillow to her chest as noticed the multiply of pictures hanging around, her mother and father. Roxanne’s train of thought was caught off when she heard a knock at the door; Ma stood at the door with a smile, dressing in a sleeping gown and found in her hand. “Good, you’re still up. You have a call. I will leave you to it. Good night, baby girl. Welcome home.”

“Good night, ma.” Roxanne sat in bed with the phone and held it to her ear. “This is Roxanne.” She heard nothing until a slight cough and broken voice appeared, sounded as if a woman was crying. “Hello? This is Roxanne.” A man came to the phone and said “baby gyal” in a cheerful tone as a woman in the background prayed, thanking God for them keeping her safe and alive.  Roxanne covered her mouth as she cried and said “ma? Pa?”

𝕋𝔸𝔾𝔾𝔼���� 𝕃𝕆𝕍𝔼𝕊*

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