#TOMORROW. I BRAVE INGREDIENCES.

[moe-broey]

BIG THINGS ARE HAPPENING

ACQUIRED:

1) Mozzarella sticks

2) Ingredience

Made possible by a generous donation from my benefactor:

Dad 👍 thank you Dad 👍

[shmothman]

happy shmaturday/neil bangin out the tunes day

[moonstruckme]

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

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

cw: lack of appetite, mention of skipping meals

poly!marauders x gn!reader ♡ 1.1k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“What sounds good?” he asks you. 

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug. “I guess.” 

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

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

“Thanks, Jamie.” 

He winks. “Anytime.” 

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

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

Sirius barks a laugh, and James’ smile widens. 

“What?” you ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Could you make me one of those too?” 

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

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

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

[reyesstrand]

If you’re still doing them Maddie, I wish you would write a fic where TK cooks for Carlos for the first time 💖

The weight of a long shift—a week of them, all spilling into each other like dominos—digs into Carlos’ shoulders as he sighs and stretches his neck and thumbs the ridges of his house key before shoving it in the lock.

TK’s been texting him most of the day, just aimless, endearing tangents about a dream he had the night before and the cheesy medical procedurals available to him on streaming, along with a smiley selfie or two, and it’s kept him upright. Upright through the back-to-back domestic disturbances; the multi-vehicle pileups. Carlos didn’t want to bug him with talk of work when his boyfriend’s still on mandatory leave, but he thinks it’s been written on his face, lately, just how tired he is.

“Hey babe.”

Tired enough to not even register TK standing by the dining table, in a pair of dark jeans and t-shirt. His bandage pokes over the edge of his collar, and Carlos focuses on it like he always does; on how much is being held together with stitches and gauze, on how quickly a life—the most important life—could’ve been taken away. Carlos’ eyes drift up to his boyfriend’s face: the slight pinkness to his cheeks, the soft creases around his eyes.

“Hey,” Carlos says, stepping in close and accepting the hug TK pulls him into. “I thought we were meeting up tomorrow night.”

TK’s gaze is warm when he pulls back from the hug and instead cups Carlos’ face. “We still are. I just wanted to check in on you tonight.”

“I’m fine,” Carlos insists, reaching up to gently squeeze at TK’s wrists, sparing an extra second to feel the thrum of his pulse under his thumbs.

“Baby, you’re running on fumes.”

Carlos bites the inside of his cheek, allowing himself to absorb the pet name TK’s been using more and more; allowing himself to wonder what exactly gave himself away to his boyfriend.

“I thought you could use a night in,” TK continues, lacing their fingers together now so he can tug Carlos further into the house; into the kitchen, which he is just now noticing has been used. “The market didn’t have red snapper,” TK pauses, his eyes flashing with mischief as their gazes lock, “but the guy told me the salmon was super fresh. It needs like, two more minutes in the oven and then we can eat.”

Carlos takes it all in: the mixing bowl full of a salad, complete with roasted nuts and segments of citrus; the smell of garlic and onion; the candlelight filling the room. TK gives him a nervous little smile as he gently moves around him in the small space when the timer goes off, filling their plates with fluffy, herbed rice and filets topped with lemon slices.

“Let me help you,” Carlos says, finally finding his voice after watching his boyfriend in quiet wonder.

“I can handle two plates, babe,” TK teases, jerking his chin toward the dressed table. “Go sit. Let me take care of you for once, Reyes.”

He listens to TK and sits in his usual chair, imagining his boyfriend in his home, humming along to music blasting from his phone as he diced vegetables and prepped dozens of ingredients so it could all come together in time. It’s a sight he hopes to come home to forever. It’s a sight he hopes to witness; to be a part of, next time.

Once they’re across from each other, Carlos’ stomach growls. He’d barely had time for a protein bar in the first half of his shift. He brings a forkful to his mouth and hums happily as flavour bursts over his tongue.

“I didn’t know you could cook like this,” Carlos admits, as the side of his fork glides through the fish.

“Well, you’re always so particular about your recipes,” TK jokes, before shrugging his good shoulder. He reaches across the table and squeezes Carlos’ hand. “I want to do this for you more. I want to do this together.”

“I’d love that,” Carlos smiles, thumb stroking over TK’s knuckles. Suddenly not wanting to hold it in anymore, and feeling brave in the golden light of their moment together, Carlos says: “I love you.”

TK beams. There’s something like wonder in his eyes when he replies, “I love you too.”

It feels like a mortal failing to not kiss him in this moment, and so Carlos does; pushing his chair back and leaning over at the waist to cup TK’s jaw in his palm and press their mouths together. Their lips move in an easy slide, and TK tastes of citrus, of something distinctly himself.

It’s kind of like coming home. And Carlos never wants it to fade away.

(i wish you would write a fic where…game!)

[jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd]

yesss pleaseeee write the stalker!jean y/n as a drabble!!! like Jean is just soo 😫i just know he would be a good asl stalker, especially since he is super tall and mysterious 😫

lurk

pairing: jean kirstein x f!reader

word count: 1.7k +

a/n: i didnt proof read this but also this came out super cute but like also terrifying but ily pookie bear jean

tw: stalking, manipulation, drinking, etc

it was cold tonight, nearly below freezing in shiganshina. you hated the cold, you dreaded being bundled up in a billion layers only to still be shivering. however, it was almost christmas and you were running behind on shopping. fortunately for you, the streets were quiet. nobody wanted to be out in this weather. you weren't afraid of the dark. often times, you embraced the peace that came from walking the street alone at night. despite being a woman, shiganshina was a relatively safe city.

the streets and sidewalks were lined with a thing layer of snow with flurries still falling from the sky. there's a glow of warmth from the street lines as you duck into the nearest store. it's a small boutique that's much warmer than outside. there are mannequins strewn about, various pieces on displays and a small jewelry section in the back. you decide to head to the back of the store and work your way up front.

despite being a small array of options, the jewlery they had was beautiful. you pick up a small white box were two silver earrings in the shape of hearts like. you frown as you slide a finger down the side of the container. they were pretty, but it wasnt something your mother would like and that's who you were here for, after all. you ponder getting them for yourself but your face drops when you remember your budget. you sigh and put them back on the shelf while you put your mother first.

as you set them down, you can't shake the feeling of being watched. no, you were definitely being watched. you slowly turn your head around and an exhale when you don't see anybody with their eyes on you. just a few other women browsing about and the shop owner who's ringing up a tall man's purchase. you shake your head. christmas time was always stressful for you and it's certainly showing now.

after finding a suitable necklace for your mom, you bring it up to the cashier. the cashier is a sweet, older lady who is smiling as hard as she can. you feel bad that she has to be out at work during the cold and make small talk about how you'll need to do your holiday baking tomorrow. she laughs and tells you that she's running behind too, and that she's sure you'll get your cookies done in time.

the walk back to your apartment building isn't so bad despite the howling wind. you remind yourself to be thankful for the snow, knowing the toll global warming would eventually take. on the opposite side of the street, there's a nice black car with tinted windows. you take a moment to wonder who was lucky enough to drive such a luxurious car, as you've seen it around town before. quite often actually. although, you've never seen it on your street before. you didn't live in the nicest part of town and you assume it must be somebody's family member visiting for the holidays. you head into the builiding, unaware of the pair of eyes staring at you from within the car.

unfortunately, the next day isn't any warmer. you're smart this time and decide to go shopping early in the day instead of having to brave the cold, harsh night. you drive to the nearest grocery store; your kitchen was tragically empty and lacking all of the ingredients needed to make your famous christmas cookies.

in the baking aisle of the store, you stare at the plethora of options that could either make or break your dessert. you grab a bag of chocolate chips and peanut butter chips. you spin on your heel, ready to move farther down the aisle. classically, you bump right into somebody and unfortunately the carton of eggs you had tucked under your arm before coming to this aisle heads straight to the ground. the lid pops open and eggs fall out, cracking on the ground. ultimately, they crack and the yolks splatter onto your shoes and up your paint leg a little. you let out a gasp and look up into the eyes of a handsome stranger.

his hazel eyes widen as he looks at splattered eggs on your clothing. "i'm so sorry, i didn't see you there." he looks for a way to help you but he's failing.

"it's fine," you sigh. "it's christmas time and we're all in a rush. plus, i'm a little clumsy." you blush as you feel his eyes give you a once over. you clear your throat and his eyes come back up to land on yours.

"i'm the clumsy one this time. i really am sorry. could i at least pay for your stuff?" he tilts his head. you realize just how tall he is as he looms over you, waiting for an answer.

"no, that's alright, really. it's my fault, i told you i'm clumsy. stuff like this happens to me alot." you admit, turning more red by the second. he laughs and rubs the back of his neck. his laugh is deep and hearty.

"oh, c'mon, how else are those cookies going to get made?"

"how did you know i was going to make cookies?" you ask, raising a brow at him. he clears his throat and points at the bags in your arms.

"you're in the baking aisle, after all. eggs and chocolate chips are also two of the most important things when it comes to cookies." he laughs and you feel embarrassed at your stupid question. obviously he knew you were going to be baking, it's that time of year and you are holding the ingredients for them. you laugh with him and choose to accept his generosity, appreciating not having to spend your own money, especially since it was a little tight right now.

after picking out a new carton of eggs, you and the handsome stranger head to the check out line. "my names jean, by the way." he says as he hands the clerk his card. he looks down at you.

"i'm (y/n)." you tell him. he nods his head. he hands you the plastic bag filled with your now paid for groceries. you two walk out of the store together when all of a sudden, he stops you.

"this might be a little cliche and a little too fast, but would you like to go to dinner with me tomorrow? just feel really bad 'bout the eggs 'n all." he shrugs as he makes sure his joke lands.

you know what, what the hell?

"sure, jean."

after exchanging numbers, you two head off in your own separate directions. back at your apartment, the fancy car is still there, just in a slightly different position. you think about how nice it must be to have family come to visit as you head inside.

tomorrow night comes quicker than expected. you had knots in your stomach all morning and you find them still lingering into the evening. you take your time getting ready for your date with jean and you can't shake the feeling of anxiety nestling into your chest.

later on, you park your car at the restaurant jean had texted you to meet him at. it's a high end restaurant and you're relieved you chose to wear one of your nicest dresses and an overcoat. as you make your way to the front door, you see that same black car, tucked neatly into one of the back parking spots. you shake your head as you head into the restaurant.

jean is dressed to the nines. if you thought he was handsome yesterday, you thought he fucking looked deadly tonight. if looks could kill.

jean smiles as you take a seat across from him. you give him a shy smile as you watch him take in your appearance. there's a glimmer of hunger in his eyes that makes you want to sink into your seat. you're self conscious as his eyes devour you but his words come out so calmly. "you look really good."

"thank you." quiet are the words that manage to come from your lips.

you spend the evening making talk of all sort of topics ranging from the weather to the casual, heated arguments about aliens and if they existed or not. you really enjoy your time, finding it n yourself to indulge in a bottle of wine. jean offers to pay for the entire meal as your plates becomes empty. you laugh and make a joke about how rich he must be. he just chuckles in return.

you start to realize just how drunk you are. the heat in your cheeks is radiating and you feel like you're vibrating, just a little. jean hasn't taken his eyes off you once.

"before you go," he starts. he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, white box. "i got you something. now, i know we just officially met but i couldn't help myself."

the words go right over your head as you reach across the table for the little container. you take the lid off and gasp. the pair of little, silver hearts from the store the other night. you become a stuttering mess. "h-how did you.."

your brain begins to move a thousand miles a minute, flashing different pictures your eyes have collected the last few days. it's the black car you've seen all over town. the tall man in the boutique. the black car parked on your street. the feeling of being watched. the cookies. the earrings. the car in a different position.

your words fall out in a whisper as you drop the box onto the table. "you..." jean tilts his head and smirks. he can see the realization in your eyes and the hunger in his grows. you feel helpless in this crowded restaurant, not wanting to make a scene. he watches your rosy cheeks turn pale.

"me? what about me, (y/n)?" his words are condescending.

"you've been watching me. stalking me." you hiss under your breath, hoping it comes out as confident but jean picks up on the shakiness on your voice.

"hmm..? what was that?" you can see the thrill he's getting. you don't answer him. you reach to where you set your phone on the table at the beginning of the date. it isn't there. “oh, my silly (y/n.) you've drank a whole bottle of wine. just however will you get home?"

my jean fanfiction

my ko-fi

[astrialuvs]

I’d love to hear ur personal headcanons for karma!!!

Headcanons for Akabane Karma as Himself | as a Friend | as a Lover

➻ PAIRING : akabane karma x reader

➻ CONTENT WARNING : my headcanons to these red-haired boy 😗🫶

➻ WORD COUNT : 845 words

a/n: it's actually my first time doing a request, so i'm sorry for taking a long time doing it. tell me what'chu think about it?

another a/n: also, i actually made three sets of headcanons (hcs for his character alone, hcs for his character as a friend, hcs for his character as a lover). though the other two are not yet done. so please bear with me 🙏 🙏 🙏 . (i might upload them tomorrow, though.)

I feel like he's a good chef but has a weird taste in food. I imagine him matching unbelievable types of food:

During a lazy weekend, Karma set out on his solo culinary adventure to indulge in his wickedness and hidden abilities. After catching sight of a fanciful idea, he resolved to prepare dishes involving the most unlikely pairings of ingredients.

In his kitchen, Karma created an exotic twist: a Chocolate-Soy Sauce Glazed Chicken Mélange that surprised even her own palate. He was surprised and delighted by the sweet chocolate dancing with the savory soy, which convinced him that there must be greater powers.

Karma then bravely went to doing a Strawberry-Wasabi Surprise dish. Sweet strawberries and fiery wasabi produced a unique taste—at least to his taste buds—that resulted in something delectably different from what is normally expected.

Continuing his culinary excitement, Karma made garlic-flavored pasta with marshmallows. Marshmallows, with their soft sweetness, worked unexpectedly well with the sharp garlic. The combination resulted in a dish that defied all traditional ideas about taste.

"Who says you can't play with food? It's all about bending the rules, adding a dash of mischief," he said to himself.

And, as Karma stood in front of his experimental creations with pride, he rejoiced at the prospect of pushing the boundaries of experimentation. During his one-man journey, he discovered that the most memorable meals are often accompanied by something unusual. For him, the kitchen became a zone of his imagination and creativity, leaving behind an appreciation for cooking.

I believe he has a soft spot for animals, particularly strays.

One sunny afternoon, Karma walked through the park, his steps light and focused. While he was enjoying the peace and quiet, he noticed a movement near a cluster of bushes. Nestled among the foliage was a stray cat—a small, scruffy ball of fur with curious eyes that met Karma's gaze.

His mischievous smile softened into a grin as he bent toward the timid cat, his hand slowly reaching out. He slowly handed out a piece of bread. The stray, at first hesitant, approached with caution. Karma's fingers touched the soft fur as he stroked the cat's back gently.

"There, there," he says, somehow sharing the feeling of loneliness to the cat.

In that one moment, Karma's tough exterior melted away, revealing a different side of him that was rarely visible. His eyes shone with genuine affection, and he didn't stop talking to the stray, quietly offering him words of tenderness. Karma had a deep affection for animals, particularly those in need, regardless of how daring or competitive he was. Afterall, he knows how it feels.

Karma's unexpected conversation with a stray cat evolved into an unspoken thrice of trust and understanding. However, the cat that had been nervous was now meowing contentedly beneath Karma's caress. In that serene moment, Karma's sympathy for stray animals demonstrated the depth of his character, reminding us that even the most unexpected people can have a soft spot for those in need.

Karma eventually stood up, giving the stray one last gentle pat before continuing his walk. The stray cat, now with a new companion, looked at Karma gratefully. In that peaceful park moment, Karma's compassion for stray animals demonstrated the depth of his character, serving as a reminder that even the most unexpected people can have a soft spot for those in need.

He who values the lessons he learned from Koro-sensei and applies it to his life.

Following Koro-sensei's death, the students in Class 3-E were enveloped in an atmosphere of grief. The once lively classroom echoed with a sense of loss and contemplation, leaving Karma and his classmates to deal with the void left by their beloved teacher.

For instance, each of them reminisced about stories that made them laugh, as well as memories of times when they grew and realized their fondness for each other through sharing experiences. Their teacher's presence stayed with them as a memory, inspiring them to pay tribute to the man by applying the skills and values he taught them.

As the days passed, Karma became aware of a slight change within himself. Koro-sensei's teachings rang true in his mind, altering how he saw and responded to life. The flickering wickedness in his eyes remained, but he had gained a better understanding of the importance of accountability and sensitivity.

Remembering Koro-sensei's teachings on resilience and compassion, Karma chose a different path. Instead of retaliating, he handled the situation without resorting to violence. He demonstrated a newfound maturity.

In the face of Karma's changed attitude, the group of students who were initially motivated by vengeance found themselves disarmed. Karma's resilience, strategic thinking, and compassionate demeanor helped to defuse the tension. Slowly, understanding replaced resentment, and the students exited the scene, leaving both parties safe.

While the pain of Koro-sensei's absence persisted, the students, led by Karma and others, turned difficulties into opportunities for positive change. Their journey continued, and Koro-sensei's indomitable spirit persisted within each student, ensuring that his legacy would always be a guiding light in their lives.

[boytumms]

I'm just thinking about fantasy adventurer boys again. Specifically fantasy adventurer boys doing something heroic, and the locals, of some other species than the adventurer himself (like, elves or dwarves or whatever vs humans, or something), holding a victory feast in his honor. Yay! Cool, right? Except... halfway through the feast, the adventurer notices that his tummy is hurting terribly, because ooops, it turns out that some of the ingredients the local people use for their foods don't really agree with human digestive system.

Can the hero excuse himself somehow, slink out of the feast - that's being held in his honor - somewhere private? Or does he rather try to put on a brave face and suffer through the feast?

I bet this happens all the time in fantasy worlds, like imagine how different dragonborn food or orc food is, a lot of it probably wouldn't be edible for humans. Human adventurers like him would often end up getting very sick stomachs trying to eat food from other species, especially when their cultures say it's rude to refuse a feast. And of course the feast is huge, with massive proportions compared to what he's usually use to, they're so much bigger than he is and the meal sizes clearly reflect that.

After only one course, his poor belly is tight and round, heavy and solid like he just ate a rock (and who knows, he might as well have). More and more plates are pushed towards him, the hosts continuously piling more and more food for him to eat. There's nothing he can do to excuse himself, not wanting to show disrespect, so he forces himself to smile and swallow as much as he can, ending the night with a tummy so achingly huge it could probably be mistaken for a nine month pregnant belly.

His stomach hurts terribly, full with pounds and pounds of strange food, spices and meats and vegetables his body has never had before, and he's not even sure if he'll be able to digest it. His skin feels hot to the touch, belly bubbling and roiling like a boiling pot of water with all the spicy food he had to choke down. He need's help walking back to his tent, and once he's finally allowed to lay down, his hosts apologetically tend to his painful bellyache. They rub his sore belly with their big hands, pushing out the knots where his bloated stomach tightens and cramps.

It takes hours of him moaning in pain and rolling back and forth on the bed for him to finally fall asleep, arms wrapped tightly around his swollen tummy. His hosts stay to care for him throughout the night. They need him to feel better for the feast they're holding tomorrow...

[kaunis-sielu]

Dangerous Places: 10

He slowly builds your trust over the next few weeks. It really is the little things, him noticing when you need something, like an ingredient or snack that you like. He’s already proven that he watches your numbers and has brought you several more records to play so it’s not so quiet in the house. The first time he gently touches your waist and you don’t flinch he hums softly,

“You’re getting more comfortable with me. ” He purrs into your hair and it makes your heart pound in the best way, “Good girl.”

“Thank you.” You don’t know how to handle the praise so this seems to be the best response.

“What are you making?”

“Peppermint truffles.”

“You sure love your sweets don’t you Bunny?”

“Yea, I like the challenge that they provide too.” You tell him as you work, Steve stays standing behind you. Previously this would have been far too close for your comfort but now you find you don’t really mind.

“I’m thinking this’ll be over in a month.” He says and you glance behind you at him.

“Really?” You don’t want to get too hopeful because it’ll hurt so much worse if you can’t disappear then.

“Yea, and I found someone who can take care of your brand. A friend of Bruce’s has some experience with burns, he’s going to come take a look later.”

“Will you be here?”

“No.”

“I’d like someone else here.”

“I’ll get someone,” he promises, “so good Bunny.” Steve says and it takes every ounce of self control you have to not preen.

The doctor that Steve had promised comes later that night. Carol is with you, of all the women that Steve could’ve asked you’re glad he picked her.

He walks you through the procedure, and while it sounds painful and scary you don’t care. You want the brand off.

“When can you do it?” You ask and he looks thoughtful,

“Right now.”

“Let’s do it.” You tell him and Carol looks surprised,

“You want to do this now?” She asks and you nod. There’s nothing you would like more than having the brand removed. “I’m going to call Steve while he gets set up.” She says and you shrug, she can do whatever she needs to.

When he’s ready you sit in a chair and he starts his work. The pain is indescribable, you can’t believe you’d gone through this once before.

“If you need to pass out just do it.” The Doctor says and you nod. Carol is watching and looks horrified, you can’t look. If you look you’re going to throw up, then pass out. You’ve got your eyes closed and you’re taking slow, deep breaths but the pain is too much and like the Doctor said, you pass out.

When you come to arms are around you and your arm feels like it’s on fire.

“How long?” Steve’s voice is right behind you, he must be the one holding you. He wouldn’t let anyone else.

“Maybe an hour?” Carol says and you blink your eyes open. “She’s awake.”

“Hey Bunny. How you feeling?”

“My arm is on fire.” You tell him going to touch it but he catches your hand with his before you can.

“You’re not supposed to touch it Bunny.” He says gently, “We have to put a cream on it and redress it tomorrow but leave it for now.”

“Hurts.” You whimper and he shushes you gently as Carol leaves the little house.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He soothes, for a powerful man he’s so gentle with you. It’s like he knows what you need, that quiet strength. “I’m proud of you though Bunny, you did a real brave thing.”

“I couldn’t look at it anymore.” You whisper and he hums, you’re pretty sure that he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“I’m sorry it took so long. We can do something special when it heals.”

“Like what?”

“I’ll take you out, on a proper date.” He says softly, “if that’s okay with you.” You stare at where his hands are resting on your legs holding you gently to him,

“Yea I think that’d be okay.”

“Good. I have some work to do, you can come with me if you want.”

“What kind of work?”

“Paperwork. For my business.”

“What kind of mob does paperwork?” You ask and he chuckles softly,

“No Bunny, my legit business. Being in the mob doesn’t make that much money. I’m the CEO of my family’s insurance company.”

“Oh.” You’re surprised by this, all Crossbones had done was mob business. “What about Bucky?”

“What about him?” Steve seems

“Does he have another job?”

“He’s my head of security.” That makes sense, “you wanna come with?”

“What would I be doing?”

“Just keeping me company.” He offers and you close your eyes for a second, you’re content sitting here with him but he’s allowing you to leave the house. Even if it is with him.

“Do I need to look nice?”

“You do look nice.” He says and you look down at yourself. You’re in a black hoodie and a pair of black athletic pants.

“I think you and I have different ideas of nice.” You tell him and he laughs softly, “I’ll come with but I want to put on some jeans at least.”

“I can wait Bunny.” He helps ease you up off the couch and you go back to your bedroom and change into a black tee and a pair of jeans before putting on the brand new black tennis shoes Natasha brought you the first week.

When you go back out into the main part of the house Steve is standing by the front door. When he looks up at you his eyes travel the length of your body and it makes butterflies dance in your stomach.

“You ready?”

“To leave? Hell yes.” You tell him and he laughs softly.

“Okay, if anything goes down you listen.”

“I will.” At this point you’d probably agree to just about anything, he’s letting you leave your cage. Steve offers you his hand and when you take it he looks pleased, then leads you out of the front door and back into the warehouse. You’re fairly certain it’s night out but really you can’t be positive, it’s hard for time to exist when you don’t see the sun.

When you get outside you see you were right, the sky is dark and the air is crisp and you stop walking, you have no idea how long you’ve been in there but the fresh air smells so good. You close your eyes and breathe it in and Steve doesn’t try to get you to move.

“I’m sorry.” He says quietly, when you look over at him he looks ashamed of himself, “I should’ve let you come outside. I’ve been abusing you.” You’re not going to argue with him, it’s been absolute shit being stuck inside for so long. “I’ll do better.” You won’t get your hopes up, then again he usually makes good on his promises. The only one he hasn’t kept yet is letting you go.

“Can we ride with the windows down?”

“No, it’s not safe.” He says and you sigh softly but understand. You start walking and he joins you, as if he wanted to wait to make sure that you were ready to go before he brought you to the car.

“What is your family company name?”

“Shield Insurance.” He says pulling open the door in the back of the car.

“Is that home or car? What kind of insurance?”

“Mostly business.”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s not like my dream job but it’s fine.” He says sliding into the back with you. It’s then you realize Bucky is in the driver’s seat.

“What would your dream job be?” You ask as the car starts moving and Steve looks thoughtful.

“Artist.” Bucky’s voice chimes in from the driver’s seat, “he’d be an artist.” You’re surprised by this answer but Steve doesn’t argue, he gives a little shrug.

“Yea probably.”

“What kind of art?”

“I like to draw, I’ve started to get into painting lately which has been fun.” This is an interesting, and soft, side to the mob boss. “I like to do people the most.”

“From memory or do you have people sit for you?”

“Are you offering?” He flirts and you grimace causing him to laugh. You like being the cause for that sound more than you should. He’s a mob boss after all, you can’t get too attached, you swore you’d never get burnt again.

Tag list:

@andahugaroundtheneck @connie326 @also-fangirlinsweden @lumar014 @loving-life-my-way @pagina16ps @emdying @dumblani @valsworldofcreativity @blackwidownat2814 @vicmc624 @abschaffer2 @patzammit @inkedaztec @sophham

[changingplumbob]

Pancakes Household: Chapter 8, Part 3

In this part Bob works on increasing his fame despite being a loner, but mainly it is Iggy's party! Time to join the teen world. The rolled traits/aspiration are set to be... a ride (I didn't mean that as a pun, but when you read you'll understand it kind of works as a pun).

For clarity Bob's nickname for Eliza is Jumble, and Eliza's nickname for Bob is Sleek. I'll try to capitalise them when they're being used as names to make any translations easier.

Harvey: We better head home, mum will have finished her next art piece by now

Carson: Thanks for having us Mrs Pancakes

Eliza: You’re welcome. Iggy dear, before you run off can you help clean up?

Iggy: Fine. But I’m still rebelling

Eliza: Whatever you say

Fergus: Ginger all you have to do it lie down, you do it all the time, just lie down

Ginger: *barks* kid is treating me like an idiot

Everyone else has contributed to laundry duty today except Bob so it’s up to him to hang it all up. He then works on a blue confetti cake for Iggy’s party tomorrow, never sure why birthday cakes don’t improve his baking skill. He had elected to take the day ff work but having done everything he wanted to do at home 2 hours into his shift he decides to head to work anyway, got to impress the bosses.

On his last night as a child Iggy spends some time on the tiny violin while Fergus, outside the gaze of his parents, dominates his homework. He may be rebelling but as a grade A student he does like to do it. Eliza can finally make some business calls, the opportunities always pop up at the most bizarre times. Since she’s still very dazed it doesn’t go well, and she takes Bob’s advice to lie down.

Bob: Shift was crazy. I-

Eliza: I’m awake! I’m awake

Bob: *chuckles* sure you are

Eliza: What were you saying Sleek?

Bob: That critic came back so instead of the mac and cheese I did the lobster dish. He approved but I know he was wanting more cheese

Eliza: Did you bring me leftovers

Bob: Not today. Let’s go to sleep

Eliza: But woohoo! I like woohoo!

Bob: Jumble you’re still smoking, and sound exhausted. I know you’ll want to be awake for the party tomorrow. You need sleep

Eliza: *sighs* Spoilsport

Bob: Happy birthday!

Iggy: Thanks dad. Are you sure I can’t just age up now

Bob: If you do that you can’t go to school today

Iggy: Exactly!

Eliza: No one is missing school. And no one is missing their own birthday party

Fergus: Remember, if you don’t like any of your presents, I’ll take them

Eliza: Will you take today off work

Bob: No, I’ll have time to party before my shift. How about you

Eliza: I need to take the day or I’ll miss the party

Bob and Eliza both feel the need to exercise, they are active sims after all. While Bob volunteers to brave the rain to take Ginger for a jog, Eliza, who is not a fan of getting rained on, uses the exercise machine on the deck. Afterwards she’s pleased to discover her husband hung the washing up properly and takes down the now dry laundry.

Bob: Hello followers. Today we will be doing some lobster. First step, as always, prep. Prep your workspace, prep your ingredients, prep your cooking attitude!

The drone beeps that more viewers have tuned in.

Bob: Now lobster is expensive, not all of us can afford it. We’re lucky that here in Brindleton Bay there’s a fresh supply at a reasonable price. Next time we’ll look at how to get the best flavour for your fish, no matter how fancy, so be sure to tune in!

Bob: Remember guys, putting the dish in the oven is not like reaching the end of a book. You can always take the meal out as it cooks to add more flavour, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do!

The drone beeps to show Bob has gained more followers.

Bob: Thanks for subscribing everyone. Believe me I’m doing much better than if you were here in person. And at long last, our meal! Sparkling with excellence. But we’re still not at the end of the book guys! Final step, as my wife often tells me, is to clean up! If you’re like me, you hate it, but it’s important to keep your kitchen sanitised.

Eliza: Great stream jumble, I kept the computer open to it while Aaron was helping me with my debating

Bob: Please tell me it was on mute

Aaron: You’re better than you give yourself credit for Bob

Bob: I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t need the fame for promotion

Eliza: Charisma is always a beneficial skill

Bob: Don’t mind me, I’m going to start the next book

Aaron: You mentally prepared for your oldest to be a teenager

Eliza: Not even close

The kids get home and it looks like it’ll be an indoor party.

Iggy: Carson, take a picture with me before the height difference confuses the camera

Bob: Cake is up! Where’s the birthday kid?

Iggy: Right here dad

Eliza: Make a wish

Iggy thinks for a minute, then blows out the candles!

Iggy roles the ambitious traits from their parents, but since that can’t be applied as a teen, it’ll be the YA trait. So a reroll lands the horse lover trait, as well as the joke star aspiration despite a weakness for comedy. We have our third pansexual Pancakes and they also rolled being genderfluid. I’m going to do my best googling and rereading of Lumpinou’s LGBTQIA mod notes to hopefully represent them accurately.

The cake goes down a hit and the guests tuck in. Bob has to go to work but Iggy pulls him aside before he leaves.

Iggy: Before you go dad, I just want you to know…

Bob: Yes?

Iggy: I’ve been thinking, about myself and.. I’m pansexual

Bob: Awesome! Just like me and your mother

Iggy: Wait, you’re pan?

Bob: Yeah. Everyone always forgets because we’re in a straight presenting relationship, but we are. I got to head off but I love you buddy, thanks for opening up

Iggy watches their dad go and has mixed feeling about not having time to broach their gender.

Iggy returns to their party and mingles around their friends, trying to get as many selfies as they can to cement themselves as a teenager.

Iggy: I’m so excited to see what high school is like

Amie: Don’t be, it’s not very exciting

Angel: Well I like it

Iggy: Since I already became a llamacorn scout I’m thinking of joining the cheer squad

William: Not football

Iggy: So I can get hit in the face constantly? I don’t think so. Anyway, I’ll see you all tomorrow, okay?

Darwin: Sure thing, later Pancakes

With the party done Iggy heads to the study where Eliza helps them tackle their homework.

Iggy: But what do they mean? Since when is pie a chart

Eliza: Don’t worry, your dad would get stuck but I know all about that

They both stumble through it and Iggy sighs in relief when it’s done.

Eliza: Are you okay? You just aged up with high confidence but you seem downcast

Iggy: It’s just a lot to adjust to mother

Eliza: Want to tell me about it? Sometimes a problem seems less big if you get it out of your head

Iggy: Well I told dad before he left but, I’m pan. He said that was just like the two of you

Eliza: Oh you bet! I like a nice ass, no matter the identity of the person it belongs to

Iggy: OMW mother! It’s hard enough to go from not thinking about romance to suddenly having all these attraction thoughts without hearing about what you find attractive

Eliza: Sorry. I’m just glad you shared this with me. Come give me a hug son

Iggy leans in to her hug, but ultimately has to pull back.

Eliza: What is it?

Iggy: I’m not exactly your son

Eliza: Oh?

Iggy isn’t to sure what to say next but Eliza gives their hand a reassuring squeeze.

Iggy: I’ve realised I’m not a guy. At least, not all the time. I’m this thing called genderfluid, I don’t know if you know about it…

Eliza: If it’s part of you, I want to learn. I promise to listen

Iggy: Okay mother. So you know how most people will have a gender identity and stick to it? I don’t. Some days I’ll feel like your son, some days I’ll feel like your daughter, some days I’ll feel like I’m somewhere inbetween.

Eliza: Who are you today Iggy? Oh shoot, should I call you Iggy? I can change if you want me to

Iggy: *laughs* Hey mother, this is new for me to, we’re both bound to make mistakes. Today is very much a they/them day though

Eliza: Come here then my child

Iggy: *laughs* you sound silly

Eliza: Hey now, if it’s to make you feel happy and safe, I’ll sound as silly as… well, a thing that’s ridiculously silly

Iggy: Socks and jandals

Eliza: *laughs* As silly as socks and jandals

They hug and Iggy feels a weight lifted. They might just float to the roof if Eliza lets go.

Eliza: You may be on the cheer squad, but I’ll always be your biggest cheerleader okay? So will you dad

Iggy: About that, can you tell him? I don’t know how

Eliza: *sighs* I’m afraid you’re going to come out to people for the rest of your life. It’s a side effect of being in a mostly straight cis world. It can help to tell those that love you first, and your dad loves you. I will if you want me to but please consider telling him yourself, I know he’d appreciate it

Iggy: I guess I could practice by telling Fergus, and if that doesn’t blow up in my face I’ll tell dad in the morning

Eliza: That’s my brave- my brave kid. Come on

Fergus is in the lounge trying his best to build a fake volcano. Eliza and Iggy both settle down to help. The three chat and with time Iggy relaxes enough to talk properly to Fergus.

Iggy: Fergus, I got to tell you something. I’m not your brother today

Fergus: You’re not? Why? Did I annoy you too much? I tried to keep quiet at the party

Iggy: No, no. It’s not that. It’s just… I’m not a boy today

Fergus: Oh. Are you a girl then?

Iggy: No, I’m not really either today, and kind of both. But I’m still your sibling. They/them pronouns just feel more like me today

Fergus: Okay. Are you still Iggy

Iggy: I’m not sure. Definitely not when I’m a girl. Maybe I should come up with another name

Eliza: Whatever you choose, we’ll call you. Right Fergus?

Fergus: You bet. Now can we please get back to the lava?

What do you know, both the conversation and the volcano do not blow up in Iggy's face!

Iggy decides to do a workout before bed as they like fitness, but don’t feel like trying somersaults on their cheer mat before bed. Then they head upstairs to their touched up room. We have changed wall colour, as well as the bed and desk to reflect their like of the farmhouse deco style. The bookcase has also been moved to an easier to see position.

Bob: I’m back, let’s go to bed

Eliza: Gladly. But hey, your eldest child wants a chat with you tomorrow before school

Bob: Sounds ominous, I’m in

Previous Part ... Next Part

[dailycharacteroption]

Planar Tour Guide: Negative Energy Plane part 4

(art by Diehlal on DeviantArt)

Adventures

So throughout the week we’ve looked at the Negative Energy Plane, stared into the Void if you will, and seen not only that the plane itself is anathema to life as we understand it, and the creatures that can survive there are either monstrous undead or beings so utterly alien to the rest of the cosmos’ metaphysics that they cannot help but hate everything that isn’t them. And heck, they might even be justified in feeling that way.

With such a hostile environment, is there anything in this wide cosmos that would actually make a group of heroes want to go there? Let’s talk about it.

Much like the Positive Energy Plane, adventures on the plane are pretty much limited to rare minor negative zones until mid to high level when the planar adaptation spell becomes available. Not only that, but the nature of the plane’s magic makes healing more difficult, requiring extra stockpiles of healing items so as not to be dragged down by attrition. Once you’ve got the proper protections though, one can expect little to no respite or places to rest that the characters don’t bring with them, as pretty much every settlement is going to be occupied by hostile entities, or in rarer cases trapped mortals that struggle to get by as is. Luckily nothing prevents you from plane shifting out.

The easiest way to get your players into the void is to throw them in there yourself, by which I mean, some planar accident (which may or may not be the players’ fault) pulls them into the plane. At lower levels, this should probably end up with them in a minor-negative zone so it’s not just a “rocks fall, everyone dies” situation, but at higher levels where you know that at least one mage is packing planar adaptation or similar spells for emergencies, it could be anywhere you want. In any case, the adventure quickly becomes “find a way out”. Now obviously if the party knows plane shift this is no problem, but if they don’t, they may have to be clever, perhaps happening upon a movanic angel, or infiltrating a guarded portal.

However, maybe the party actually wants to leap into Entropy’s Heart, most likely hot on the heels of a villain fleeing into the plane to escape them and plot more villainous deeds where they assume no one will follow. Many a lich’s sinister planar castle lurks in the Void, so it certainly makes sense to take the adventure there to finish them off. This also covers situations where an invasion from the plane requires fending off and then following any retreating forces so they can’t come back with reinforcements later. Nightshades in particular are a good choice for villains of such adventures.

Just like how the Positive Energy Plane is useful for hiding away artifacts, so too is the Nothing for the same reasons, though the fact many residents are cruel enough to try and use such power for themselves makes it slightly less likely unless said artifact is dangerous to them. As such, artifact-focused adventures are more likely about retrieving the artifact than they are about hiding it away. Also consider that sphere’s of annihilation grow like fruit on this plane, so those seeking a weapon, or perhaps many might try to harvest the dangerous orbs.

Related to this is of course the search for rare materials, such as blight quartz, which can be made into weapons that sap the vitality from victims, as well as other esoteric ingredients made from the compressed entropy of the plane.

And of course, some may venture to the plane purely seeking knowledge. Lethal or not, those of a scientific mind may simply seek to study the plane and it’s secrets, braving the dangers to contribute to a greater understanding of the cosmos.

As we can see, there’s a shocking amount of potential in a plane that literally is filled with nothing, with plenty of opportunities for adventure. However, tomorrow we’ll bring everything to a close.

[hippolotamus]

Hippo my lovely 💕

21 - this is a very long hug now sort of hug

If it sparks joy 💕

It did! Eventually (sheepishly kicks at the dirt) Enjoy, lovely 🦛💞🐥

For the full experience may I recommend

if i’m being honest (it scares me to death) | T | 2926 words

Just got in. See you tomorrow.

Buck pockets his phone and enters the apartment — it’s not home, never really has been — his movements slow and easy, like he’s floating. Buoyed by the sort of love and contentment that can only come from spending an evening at the Diaz house. A few precious hours of dinner, then playing Boggle and Scattergories until Chris begged off to play an online game with his friends. His limbs are loose and humming, like his veins have been injected with liquid starlight. Even the air around him feels syrupy sweet and pleasant. The kind of thick, protective cover that nothing negative could hope to ruin.

He drops his keys in the bowl and immediately walks to the fridge to put away the Tupperware container of leftover mushroom and chickpea meatballs with zoodles for tomorrow’s lunch.

Eddie picked the recipe, saying he wanted to try it. No particular reason, he just did. He’s been doing that more lately, choosing dishes he would make anyway and subbing in vegan ingredients.

Buck took notice immediately and makes sure to show his gratitude in heaping platefuls and commenting on how delicious it all is. He knows from experience that it’s all too easy to end up with dried out, inedible food that shouldn’t be fed to anyone. It’s the least he can do for his best friend making the effort to cook something special just for him. Even if said best friend will never admit that’s why he’s doing it.

At times, if Buck lets himself look too closely, it feels a lot like something else. These acts of service feel a lot like love. And it is. The sort of love two best friends who would do anything for each other have. Buck’s not naïve enough to think that Eddie wouldn’t do the same thing for any of their friends or family. But at the same time it’s also more? Deeper. A sacred bond or formula shared just between them. Like learning Bobby’s chili doesn’t work without the cocoa powder. Someone could try a million different ways and it would never turn out right.

He wants to be brave enough to name this thing they’ve been building since promising to have each other’s backs. This relationship forged in fire, mud, and tsunamis. Built on collapsing foundations, busted down doors, lightning strikes, and ‘Because, Evan’.

If he could be part of Eddie and Christopher’s lives for everything, he would do it in a heartbeat. But that always seems like too much and not enough to ask for. Because Buck is too much and not enough. Acceptable in measured increments for precise amounts of time. For now — probably forever — he tucks that dream away in favor of focusing on what he does have.

With the leftovers safely put away, he grabs a beer, twisting off the cap and listening to it slide across the countertop, finally slowing to a stop next to the utensil caddy. It’s… loud. Too loud for such a small object. Or maybe the apartment is just too… cavernous? Empty?

Buck leans back against the counter, taking a lengthy sip and visually assessing his space. He has things. The right amount of things, even. After all, he’s one single person. How much could he need? He drowns the thought with more beer when his mind tries to remind him of six cheese lasagna and couches and having the answers.

He decides it’s not worth ruining his still relatively excellent mood by worrying over something as trivial as a chunk of metal, and moves out to the patio. It might do him some good.

The atmosphere is filled with the sights and sounds of the city at night. A complex symphony of traffic, music and people wrapped in an LED haze that starts at the street and drifts slowly upward. It’s a familiar melody that, just like the apartment, isn’t home but does its best to provide comfort.

He manages to pick out a few stars peeking through. Not full constellations. Those are impossible, staying hidden like the ancient giants they are. It’s nice to still be able to see the twinkling specks, even if they’re nothing like some places he’s been.

On the ranch in Montana he would lay on the hood of his Jeep and stare for what felt like hours. Feeling small, but also like something was waiting for him. Like he was part of something bigger that he just hadn’t discovered yet. Looking at the sky now doesn’t feel that way. More like being at sea, adrift and searching. Waiting to be found, though he’s not quite sure by who or what.

It reminds him of a documentary he watched once about otters. The mothers fluff up their pup’s fur and leave them to float while they hunt for food. The babies are powerless to do anything except spin in a circle until she returns. Sometimes Buck feels like that. Like somebody has given him enough support to turn in place but not actually go anywhere.

He casts a look at the table and chairs and finds himself thinking of fixing, being at your worst, trying again anyway, and— no. Clearly being outside isn’t helping, so Buck returns indoors, hoping the television will prove to be enough of a distraction.

As he searches for something to watch, it seems reasonable he just needed a better place to focus his attention that isn’t his own inner chatter. He’s already slightly irritated that the vibrant glow from earlier has faded so significantly. Maybe there’s still a chance it can be recovered.

He quickly settles on a cooking program and that gets him smiling again. He doesn’t even particularly care what’s being presented, just that it evokes the same warmth as being welcomed home and brown eyes with flecks of gold. At least until the next episode comes on.

This one features a couple, a husband and wife posed in their studio kitchen. They’re surrounded by pristine white cabinets, gleaming mixing bowls, and perfectly measured ingredients that will make a stunning something-or-other. When it’s complete they’ll pull it from the stainless steel double oven to be served on the prop table that’s been set like a photo shoot for Better Homes & Gardens.

Buck can’t help but notice how they move in harmony, fluidly traversing around each other, like a ballet. Like partners. Maybe it’s all for an audience, but it looks genuine. Not the type of movement that’s choreographed or faked. He stares, scrutinizing every instance of adoring looks and playful gestures until something within him finally cracks.

The hollow ache that usually lives in his chest suddenly feels deeper. Wider. Like it may actually break through and tear him apart, causing him to wonder how such emptiness can feel so massive. As if his ribs are slowly cracking open, snapping one by one, stretching the skin while crushing his lungs and heart. He wants to scream or something. Anything to untangle the mess sitting under his sternum.

Through rapid, gasping breaths Buck tries to refocus, to take himself back. Even just fifteen minutes. Is that so much to ask? Returning to blissfully, ignorantly, mindlessly observing?

Despite what he wants, the screen remains unchanged. Mr and Mrs Fucking Perfect carry on with their routine, blurred and watery in front of him. And Buck – he’s spinning in circles again, too helpless to do anything except wait. Except he doesn’t want to. He’s so tired of drifting and circling and clinging and pausing.

It’s just- when he’s the guy who’s always trying to fix things that are out of his control… what is he supposed to do?

🍠🍠🍠🍠🍠

Eddie puts the last of the dry dishes away in the bottom cabinet, and not a moment too soon. He’s got an early shift in the morning and has to get to bed. He could have left them in the rack for tomorrow, but it gave him extra time to mentally replay the earlier parts of the night. Like watching Buck smile, all pleased and fond, every time Eddie thanked him for a helpful cooking tip. Or watching Chris break out in a full belly laugh at one of Buck’s corny dad jokes.

It really is a form of self-torture sometimes, having Buck over for dinner and homework and board games. Pretending they’re a family and this is a normal everyday thing he gets to have.

He tells himself it’s for Chris, too, but he also knows that’s a blatant lie. If Chris wasn’t a factor Eddie’s pretty sure he’d invent any and all reasons to spend more time with Buck.

Eddie sighs and lays the dish towel over the sink edge. The ridiculous one that says Silence of the Yams over a print of a sliced up root vegetable. It came as part of a set Buck and Chris gave him last Thanksgiving. It’s probably not a coincidence he uses this particular one the most. The shade is a nearly identical match to the burnt orange sweater Eddie always likes on Buck.

There are times it feels like he’s not the only one with all these feelings welling up inside, trying to prevent them from bleeding out through his pores and spilling onto Buck. Like there’s something in the casual touches and glances that pass between them. Something electric and charged that’s more than bros or friends and decidedly not platonic.

One day, maybe, he’ll work up the nerve to tell Buck what’s in his heart. To ask him on a date and hope he’s not fucking up the best relationship that’s ever happened to him and his son. For now he’ll take whatever Buck is willing to give. Even if it only ever comes in the form of shoulder nudges, zoo trips, and Keeping the Peas housewares.

He starts his nightly routine, walking a path through the rooms, turning off lights and making sure doors are locked. When the final throw pillow is returned and the last pile is straightened, he hears the tentative knocking.

The noise immediately puts him on edge, setting off his protective instincts. Nothing good can come from someone being at his house this late. Christopher is in bed and Buck has his own key. Eddie tiptoes across the floor to peer through the peephole, shocked to discover who’s waiting on the other side.

“Buck?” Eddie turns the deadbolt, opening the door wide for his friend.

This isn’t anything like the night he came seeking respite from Maddie’s well-intentioned visitor train. Instead of standing tall, barreling past Eddie, Buck stares straight ahead, unblinking and motionless with slumped shoulders that make him appear small. Eddie can see how his eyes are puffy and red-rimmed. He looks utterly broken.

Before Eddie can say his name again, Buck surges forward over the threshold. He falls into Eddie, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist and burying his face into the crook of his neck.

Eddie pushes the door shut, not bothering to listen if it latched correctly or not. He returns the embrace, one hand on Buck’s back, the other gently petting his hair as Buck’s body shudders against his own.

He gratefully absorbs each whimper and sob. The way thick, searching fingers clutch at his shirt.

“Shhhh, hey. I’ve got you.”

Buck was fine a few hours ago. What the hell could have happened since then?

“I- I’m sorry, Eds.” Buck begins to pull back, rubbing away the wetness on the sleeve of his maroon hoodie. “It’s late. I shouldn’t have- I’m gonna–” He jerks his chin toward the doorway.

“Uh-uh. None of that.” Eddie lightly grips Buck’s elbow, a silent question. Buck hesitates, looking between Eddie and the entryway, before he acquiesces to letting Eddie tug him closer again.

He wants to do any number or ill-advised things like hold Buck’s face between his palms, kiss away every tear, and murmur every wonderful thought he’s ever had about the man in his arms until Buck believes them. For now he settles for cradling and rubbing soothing patterns and silently loving. He’ll stand here all night if that’s what Buck needs. He can do that.

“I don’t know what happened. All I did was turn on Food Network,” Buck warbles. Then he shakes his head against Eddie’s shoulder, exhaling a world weary breath. A puff of air expelled by someone carrying the universe and trying to make it appear no bigger than a classroom globe. Eddie’s, unfortunately, more than a little familiar.

“That’s not true,” Buck confesses.

The silence returns and Eddie waits for Buck to elaborate on what he means. It isn’t long before the explanation comes, so muted that Eddie almost doesn’t catch it.

“I’m tired, Eds. Of pretending to be happy alone and waiting to be chosen. Tired of holding back just so the wrong person likes some version of me that isn’t even authentic. It’s just all so exhausting.”

I’d choose you. Three words Eddie can’t bear to make himself say out loud, because his best friend is hurting and now is most definitely not the time for that kind of confession. So he holds onto them a little longer, ignoring the sting where they settle back into his heart. A burning pain that only becomes more intense when Buck burrows impossibly closer, continuing to cling to Eddie like a lifeline.

Buck speaks again, sounding unfathomably small and heartbroken. “Am I that hard to love?”

“No.” Eddie’s answer is immediate and unwavering. As true as the night he first decided in front of their captain and an exploding ambulance.

Buck responds with a skeptical huff. “You have to say that because you’re my best friend.”

Eddie slides the hand on the back of Buck’s neck forward, grazing over his cheek and under his chin until he can tip his head up. Even in the darkness, Buck’s eyes are exceptionally blue. Endless depths that manage to steal Eddie’s breath and reflect back every future he yearns for.

It’s been ages since Eddie’s given any serious thought to last first kisses or until death do we part, but he would swear under oath that’s what he sees now.

“No,” Eddie reiterates. This should probably be more difficult and be ratcheting up his anxiety. But it doesn’t. Instead he’s wrapped in a distinct calm. An undeniable certainty, because what he’s about to say is true and however Buck reacts won’t change it. “I have to say that because I love you.”

Buck blinks and his mouth falls open in an imperfect o. “Y-you what?” He whispers.

Now that he’s said it once, a second time is that much easier. “I said I love you. And I will always choose you. All of you. Over and over. Every version. If you’ll let me.”

Buck’s eyelashes flutter, fresh tears starting to pool there, and he looks at Eddie with such awe and disbelief, like he can’t accept that someone would genuinely want him. Not that he doesn’t understand the feeling, but it shatters Eddie to think Buck has spent even a second believing he’s unlovable.

“Of course I’ll let you. How is that even a question?” Buck asks, as if they haven’t been dancing around exactly that for years. He stands to his full height, never letting his hands drop, beaming down with the smile Eddie’s claimed as just for him. “But, Eds?”

“Yeah, Buck?”

“This has been a really long hug. Not that I’m complaining. I was just kinda hoping I could kiss you. Finally. I’ve been kinda wanting to for a while.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And who is Eddie to deny him that?

“Please,” he sighs into the diminishing space between them. His tone borders on a plea, but this is Buck. The person who has seen Eddie at his most vulnerable, who sees Eddie more than he’s ever allowed anyone else.

They drift closer until their lips brush, just enough that Eddie gets a taste of Buck’s horchata lip balm. Eddie can’t understand needing more than the 3-pack he can get at the grocery store, but right now he’s not complaining about the sweet, cinnamon flavor.

Eddie deepens the kiss, pausing when he can make himself break away, just enough to murmur ‘I love you’, wanting to make sure Buck knows he’s all in. That this isn’t a fluke or temporary, pitying lapse in judgment.

Because he does, and he is, with every fiber of his being. He loves him, loves him, loves him.

Suddenly Buck pulls back, breathless and wide-eyed, his already plush lips kiss swollen, tempting Eddie to bring them back together. “I just realized I never said I love you, too. Because I do a-and I really need you to know that.”

Eddie hums appreciatively, claiming Buck’s mouth again, unable to stay apart any longer now that he knows what it is to kiss Evan Buckley. He submits to the love and adoration and the way they fit like two puzzle pieces, further solidifying how they’re meant to complete each other. He doesn’t know how he ever thought he knew what love was.

There are infinite meanings for different people. For Eddie, it’s painted in hues of burnt orange and blue. Folded in cheesy puns and always having a fresh container of oat milk in the fridge. Stated in facts about retrofitted ceiling tiles and light fixtures; conveyed in I know you did, what are you afraid of, and I misunderstood the assignment.

It’s following his heart on the winding path that led him to a reality better than any fantasy.

[bordysbae]

Can you do #8 with quinn please?

“drunk actions are sober thoughts.”

quinn hughes x reader

8. “you cheated on me.”

this is partially inspired by a story i read months ago on wattpad about mat barzal, i don’t rememer the name of the author but this is slightly inspired by that story!

warning: cussing. also, this story does NOT have a happy ending so if you don’t want a sad ending don’t read this, or imagine your own ending lol

word count: 1.4k

the canucks were going on a quick roadie for the next week traveling through california. you hate when quinn leaves for away games because staying alone in the apartment you guys share is never fun. you guys moved in together 2 months ago, so you began to grow attached to living with him, but roadies always take that happy feeling away from you.

quinn left a couple days ago, he first played a game vs the sharks, last night he played the kings, and tonight he’s playing the ducks. as you clear your plate from dinner you glance at the time on the microwave, and realize the game starts in a few minutes. you scurry over to the tv and turn on the game, waiting patiently for it to start. after a close game, the canucks won and you know quinn is ecstatic. sometimes the guys go out after they win, but it’s usually after home games. but since they’re leaving tomorrow, you assume they’re going out somewhere in los angeles. you decide to text quinn asking if he’s going out and to congratulate him.

you; you played so well quinn!! congrats on the win tonight! are you guys going out?

quinn; thanks love! and yes we are going out. i miss you so much, i wish you could come with me

you; i wish i could come too, but i’ll see you tomorrow! anyways go have fun on your last night in california, i love you and be safe <3

quinn; i love you more.

you set your phone down and decide to get ready for bed since you have nothing better to do. you aren’t expecting to hear from quinn until tomorrow, so you shut off your phone and get into the cold, empty bed. you stretch out your body to where quinn usually lays, yet there was no one else in it but you. you listen to the noise of cars driving down the street and people talking outside, wondering what quinn’s doing as of right now.

the next morning you get up on your own time, and decide to cook quinn a nice dinner since he’s coming home tonight. you search for some of his favorites recipes and decide on chicken parmesan. you write down the ingredients and walk to the grocery store only 2 blocks away. you’re wearing sweats and one of quinn’s hoodies, with your hair pulled up in a messy bun. you couldn’t care less about how you look right now, it’s not like you have anyone to impress, quinn is on the road. that reminds you of the fact quinn hasn’t texted you yet, so you whip out your phone on the walk back to your apartment, checking your notifications. you open instagram to see a shit ton of people tagging you in a post of girl with quinn’s arm wrapped around her. your heart skips a beat, and you bravely click on her instagram story. that’s when your heart drops. an image of quinn’s hand entangled with hers and her head resting on his shoulder appears, and you almost drop your phone at the sight. you quickly tap through all of her stories and at the end of the photo dump of her and her friends, another photo of quinn appears. this one is the worst one you’ve seen. him kissing her on her cheek, incredibly close to her lips. she captioned the story with ‘who knew candians were such good kissers?’ that’s when you’d had enough.

you run into the elevator and drop everything as you enter your apartment. you sit on the couch in disbelief, tears pouring out of your eyes. no wonder quinn hadn’t texted. you didn’t even get to cook quinn a nice dinner nor congratulate him on winning 2/3 of his games. when you told him to have fun going out, you didn’t mean that much fun. you know quinn won’t be home for at least another couple hours so you grab your clothes and important items, putting them into two large suitcases. you decide to not text quinn and to just leave. you guys share the same friends, so he’ll find you if he really cares, he knows exactly where you’ll be.

you call one of your friends explaining the situation, and she immediately lets you stay with her. you begin the drive to her house when you receive an incoming call from quinn. your heart skips a beat, and you press decline. tears pool at your eyes, and one blink too hard will lead to an immediate breakdown. quinn calls you again, and the with the blurriness from the tears you accidentally press accept.

“y/n, where are you?” “fuck, i didn’t mean to accept the call! it doesn’t matter quinn, why would you even care where i am!” “can we just talk about this please?” “talk about what? you cheated on me. that’s that.” “i was drunk y/n! please just come home. wait, where’s all your shit? did you fucking move out? y/n come home please.” “no quinn! drunk actions are sober thoughts. don’t pull that i was drunk bullshit. it doesn’t even matter anymore. i left, and we’re over.” “i promise she meant absolutely nothing, she put herself on me.” “i don’t care quinn! you clearly didn’t care enough to tell her you have a girlfriend waiting at home for you. fuck you quinn. there’s fresh food in the fridge for you, make yourself something nice. i left the recipe for chicken parmesan on the counter. goodbye quinn.” you say ending the call, the tears now pouring down your cheeks.

you arrive at your friends house, and she helps you move your things into her guest room. you explain the entire situation to her, showing her the pictures, and she comforts you through it all. her and quinn were friends before you came into the picture, but she instantly became one of your best friends. you look down at your lap and realize you’re still in quinn’s favorite hoodie. so much for never seeing him again. “oh my god, i’m in quinn’s favorite hoodie. ellen gave him this like 5 years ago, i have to give it back to him” “yeah i guess you do, but not anytime soon, he barely even apologized to you. give it back in a few days, you guys both need space.” she says. “you’re right. i’m gonna sleep, thank you for letting me stay with you.” you smile, rising off of the couch. you grab your phone from the kitchen counter and see 3 missed calls and 7 texts from elias.

you hesitantly call elias back, and he picks up on the third ring. “hello?” you say. “y/n. i tried to stop him, i’m so sorry. he’s a fucking mess, but i thought you should know he’s on his way to you right now” “he’s what?” you exclaim. “he should be at her house in like 5 minutes, he just left my place like 10 minutes ago. he’s been a crying mess.” “i don’t really care elias. anyways, goodnight.” “night.” you hang up, more confused than ever. you spin on your heel and walk back over to the couch. “um, quinn is on his way here i guess..” you say. “he’s what?!” your friend exclaims. “he’s..” the doorbell rings interrupting you, “here, i guess.”

you and sigh and walk over to the door, opening it to see quinn with bloodshot eyes. “y/n, i’m so-“ “save it quinn, here’s your hoodie. please just leave me alone.” “i’m sorry. you left your childhood teddy bear at the house, so here it is. i thought you would want it. i know it means a lot to you” “oh, thanks quinn.” you say, taken back. a small smile forming on your lips. “i uh, have a question actually.” he says shakily, his hand scratching the back of his neck. “hm?” “can i get one last kiss? i know it’s weird but i just-“ you shut him up by softly lifting yourself up on your tiptoes, and pressing you lips to his very gently, and then you quickly pull back. you both look at each other with eyes full of love, as you shut the door. as you lock it, your body begins to collapse, and tears fall down again. your best friend quickly scooping you in her arms, holding you the same exact way quinn used to.

[dcviated]

@runefactorynonsense sent: [ The wind around here has been pummeling my work and poor car today. Have a sappy windy prompt ]

The door was pushed shut in one decided flick of the wrist as she passed by, with steps taken almost as swiftly as the gale outside. A lone leaf swirled in, danced almost mockingly around her feet, before the sharp lock of the door cast a more comfortable quiet in the hall. Lynette gave the leaf a pointed, almost offended look, before her natural path took her away from the door she'd (well, rudely) taken from the Earthmate's hands. "The weather's only getting worse. Don't prove yourself a fool and go back out in that." She felt as though another gust, and rasp of a few branches, proved her point. "Work yourself to death tomorrow, instead. Meanwhile-" A hum in thought. A nod at some unshared thought. "Why not breakfast for dinner, unless you're forsaking the rights to those blueberries you so bravely rescued from the storm?"

Well! That was... startling to say the least. And it's a miracle that Raguna hadn't just walked into the door once Lynette had shut it in front of him. Wouldn't have been the first time he went on automatic like that... some embarrassment saved. A drop kept from the bucket. Small. But something!

"Ah- But I was just going to--" His words are locked away just as swiftly as the door was. He was not going to speak just yet, just as he was not going to work more just yet. Tomorrow... a pained look is passed outside the window. It had a strange air to it, like a moving painting that dipped and bowed from everything outside yielding to the whims of convection.

"Mmm..."

Whatever reluctance Raguna felt at the denial of completing unfinished tasks was quickly dispatched by shared thoughts from Lynette. It was as though an unseen stone had pricked at the window to his mind, something shared perhaps unwittingly. Why was it that damn Earthmate always seemed to know something others didnt? The smile, oh so familiar, graces his expression as he sets aside the work gloves and frustrations they created.

"That's a good idea. I like it! So with breakfast for dinner in mind... Would you rather I make blueberry pancakes. Or muffins? What do you like more, Lynette?" She is, of course, welcome to take however long she likes to divulge this sensitive information to the other. In the meanwhile he'll get to preparing bowls and other ingredients, the fresh berries getting a gentle wash in the sink.

Raguna turns after a moment of this, resting a similarly gentle gaze on the woman with a slight cant of the head. The weather outside was volatile, aggressive, but none of that permeated the walls of his home. In here, with this company, he was all but dismissive of whatever threat was poised. But who are we kidding? He wasn't worried about the storm to begin with.

Upsetting Lynette, however? Well we couldn't have that.

"And~ what else would you like to go with them? We'll need more than just that for dinner. Maybe some eggs? Hash browns?"

[gwen-lycaon]

February 10th, a package gets delivered to Gwen’s door. It’s a plain wooden wine box and inside is a bottle with a liquid inside that looks a lot like a slightly more amber white wine. There’s several pictures attached. One seems to be taken in a garage. Gwen, sat behind her drums, and Thorsiffe, a guitar in their hands, are talking in between songs, both wholly unaware of the picture being taken. On the back’s a handwritten letter. 

“Brave Gwendolyn! Happy lunar new year! 

I am sorry I could not be there for the celebrations, yet you shall have a fantastic time with your family and other friends, of this I am sure. Fret not over the worries of the past, for they are long gone. Fret not over the worries of tomorrow, for they are yet to come. And fret not over the worries of today, but rather solve them and rejoice. 

You must think me both a great poet and sage, no? Well, you should, for I am, so you should always listen to me and my advice, hehe. 

Speaking of! I experimented a great deal with the list you gave. (It was one of ingredients you believed could work well as flavorings in mead, in case you forgot. You were very drunk ♡) You have much to learn, for many of them were horrid, but I shall forever defend your tastes because you were very drunk when making this list. However, I have finally gotten a new recipe just right. Sadly I was only able to drink a single glass, for once I realized it was perfect I knew it would have to go to you. I look forward to hearing the reaction of your tongue! 

I wish to acquire a great many bottles while I am in Norway (Astrid and Freya were always better at meadmaking than I) and hope to share many with you, yes? We can stare stories of our festivities and catch up when we do. Perhaps I could take more gifts for you with me from Norway, such as an enchanted sword you so covet. This one would need a hefty price! (I wish for you to cook for me please.) 

Recent times have not been easy for you, this we both know. I shall not pretend some silly saying and my jokes can make that simply fade away. But, brave Gwendolyn, do know that I will be there for you until the day my lungs breath their last. And then some, if fate and my gods will it. I would kill and bleed for you, sail into any storm, and put my hand into the Greatwolf’s his very own mouth. I am not a god, nor can I be the rock that the waves of your problems break upon. But I can make you laugh, this I know, and I can watch over your back, and I can row beside you as we fight the waves. Together we will laugh like madmen as we sail up the mountain. Never shall your back be bare if it is within my power. 

This I swear upon my pack, my bones and my blood, and my love for you. 

Good health and much happiness,

Thorsiffe” 

The other pictures showcase various adventures and good times Gwen and Thorsiffe have had together. One of the pictures sees the two posing together, but all the others were either taken by someone else present while the two friends were doing something dumb, or see Thorsiffe posing while including an oblivious Gwen in the picture. There’s also one picture of Thorsiffe passed out on the street with Gwen squatting down next to them with a big grin and thumbs up, and another with Gwen passed out with her head on a bar with Thorsiffe leaning over her, also with a big grin and thumbs up.

Gwen opened her door with a hint of an attitude, annoyed at the prospect of her nap being disturbed. Looking around for the doorbell ringing perpetrator, Gwen eventually looked down to find the wooden box. With confusion, she took the box in her hand and hauled it inside. Opposite to her confusion, Edgar was at her side eagerly sniffing the box and tapping his paws on the hardwood with impatience. “Not everything that comes in the mail is for you, you big goofball,” Gwen playfully chided towards the large Rottweiler as she placed it on her kitchen counter.

Not bothering to get a tool, Gwen used her Werewolf strength to pry open the wooden box with ease. The blonde lifted the wine bottle from its container, already having a pretty good guess at whom the package was from. She scanned the label carefully, excited at the prospect of cracking the bottle open and tasting Thor’s gift. As she placed it on the marble countertop gently, she realized there was more at the bottom of the box.

The Alpha didn’t even realize she’d started crying until a stray tear fell upon the page, swelling some the ink on one of the words. Reading the letter brought a smile to her face, but also a pang of guilt in her heart. Gwen knew that the last few months she hadn’t exactly been the easiest to be around. Thor had been one of the few comforts that Gwen had been able to cling to, despite not making it easy for the fellow Alpha. Seeing the different candid pictures of them together made her long for when life seemed so much simpler, and when Gwen hadn’t been pushing them away. Nonetheless, she quickly pulled out her phone after swiping the tears from her eyes. She snapped a picture of the package before typing a message.

Gwen: How so you always know just what to do to cheer me up? I’m starting to think you’re secretly a witch…! Miss you, Friend, and i’m sorry for how I’ve been acting lately. When do you get back so we can crack this bad boy open? :)

Gwen stored her phone back in its home in the pocket of her sweats. She arranged the photos on her fridge with some spare magnets and stepped back happily. The wolf felt as if this was a much needed wake up call to her, a reminder that she wasn’t defined by her life circumstances. She would find a way to stop feeling sorry for herself, and bring back that fiery spirit she knew was still burning somewhere within her.

[casspurrjoybell-30]

Howling Love - Chapter 20

*Warning Adult Content*

Camryn Summer

[Here we go again. I kinda wanna be more than friends] My beautiful, intelligent mate, strong, brave, quirky, sassy...

I could keep going but I needed him to stop car dancing to the song that we both loved as I was driving us toward Higgin Peak.

It was where we would find the next ingredient needed to help his dad heal and get him to wake up so we could celebrate Amille and my mating, it was disheartening not just for my mate but for me as well not having him there.

Calvin was the best dad I knew, it was true that I hadn't known him for a long time but the time I had known him, he was a ray of sunshine, he was kind, stern like a father, gentle and soothing like a mother, he was a balance, something rare in wolves but like my mate, he was unique.

I could understand why my father still loved him.

I don't know how their relationship would affect all our lives, even after this, I knew things wouldn't be the same, in my family that is.

I was determined to catch whoever did this to Calvin but a feeling that kept irking me inside told me the person was closer than I thought, which might be true, yet I couldn't focus on that now.

I needed to focus on getting my mate through this safely so we could get what we needed and head back home to heal his dad. I was still mind blown to know about a big part of my mate I hadn't gotten to know yet, he fascinated me, kept me on my toes, yet that's how exactly I wanted it.

Amille centred me, gave me a perspective beyond myself, I was in love with him, I truly was and I knew from here on out, I would always love him, he was my Moon Goddess given mate but I had loved him before he was that.

So I smiled as the song finally ended and I squeezed his hand gaining his attention.

"We need to get to the mountain before nightfall, I've been here before with my dad, it's about thirty minutes hard trek, so if we leave now, we can come back in time to get to the lodge, rest and by day break tomorrow we get the last two ingredients." I explained and he smiled.

[Thank you for doing this with me Camryn, I don't know what I would've done without you] he replied in his language and I leaned over to hug him, then place a kiss on his forehead, you could say I was waiting for that epic moment when he finally kissed me and besides we had more pressing issues to get handled.

"For you, anything, now come on," I asserted after breaking apart from our hug.

[I'm glad you took my advice on letting us continue tomorrow rather than continue in the night, the woods are creepy] he stated with a naughty smile and I narrowed my eyes on him.

"Your advice huh, I seem to recall you're the one who wanted to travel at night, and the woods are my home." I retorted and he snorted to my statement.

[Then you're creepy] he added and I held my hand to my chest, with my jaw dropped.

"Rude, Choco-moose and aren't you the one mated to the creep-ster then, one would say you're the creepy one, wanting to get it on with a woodland predator." I shot back and his jaw dropped.

[How dare you] he didn't physically say it yet I could tell even with signs as he ran forward and leapt onto my back trying to throw a fit which I only saw as cute.

"You know this massage you're giving me would be much more pleasant if you went lower and a tad bit faster," I suggested wiggling my eyebrows, he blushed then turned to hiding in the crook of my neck, it was adorably how I could easily do that to him.

[I hate you] he grumbled silently trying to get off my back but I smacked him, as I held him up by his bubbly butt earning more colour on his cheeks.

"Hold on choco-swirl," I mumbled and he wound his arms around my neck, holding on a little tighter as I took off in a burst of speed, sprinting fast, over logs and the low hanging shrubs, it didn't take long to get to our destination and little energy from me since I needed a release anyway, nightfall would come soon.

I needed my mate safe as I promised to keep him safe.

"So what exactly is mountain ash?" I asked my curly headed mate after putting him down.

[You see that misty cloud above, it mixes with the natural rock up there, humidity and mother nature eroding the outer layer and over time it's further erodes until it mixes with other elements which make up the rock, to create a dusty ash but because the composition is unlike the soil we are standing on, mountain ash is rich in elements because of it's source and that's why it's used in many herbal solutions, one of those being a binding agent] he explained in what I knew was a broken down version so I could understand better.

"Okay, seems I need to keep to cars and you be a nerdy genius," I teased and he smacked my bicep, then turning away from me noise pointed high to seem as if he's mad at me.

"Come here," I growled lightly, he squirmed but at this point he knew it was useless.

I tickled him with my now five o'clock shadow, then went on to rain kisses on the back of his neck which did the trick in making him laugh.

[Would you put me down] he signed yet even as he didn't say it.

I could place the whine, I tickled him one last time before placing him back next to me, grabbed the containers and walked up the slope to begin my climb of the actual mountain since we were a distance away at the base.

[Be careful] I heard him use his phone to call out and I held up... a thumbs up then proceeded to climb.

I was grateful for the rock climbing lessons Kendra had forced on me, now they had come in handy as I made short work of climbing up the mountain until the air was thin and my mate was now almost a speck down on the ground.

I knew I found what I was looking for when I spotted glistening mountain dust by the mountain side, quickly collected a lot of it since Amille could possibly need more to use after this, three large containment valves later I was done, taking in the view, it was breathtaking as the sun was setting, it also made my internal alarm go off.

I needed to get down before my mate started to worry, after all we were in the wild area, despite no rogues prowling this far into the wild, it didn't mean other animals didn't, such as the coyote that howled in the far distance, it gave me the motivation to get down even quickly.

It took almost an hour climbing up and down the mountain.

I wondered what my mate had done to pass the time, damn that sounded good to say, no wonder why it kept ringing in my head, Amille Laurent, was my mate, as I got closer I couldn't see him by the spot I left him which set in a panic, causing me to rush down even more, and the closer I got to the base.

I searched for his scent, he was closer than my mind had raced to think.

I finally caught sight of him by a tree, gathering herbs, I couldn't tell what they were but I knew he did.

"Hey short-stack, miss your man?" I called out and he whipped around with the brightest smile ever, despite having occupied himself with what he was doing, I knew he would've been worried about me.

[Hey, you're back, I was so worried] he stated crashing into me, I hugged him back with a chuckle.

"I would never leave the brains in this relationship, after all I need you to lead me on, I've got sparkplugs missing." I comforted and joked making him laugh.

[Idiot] I heard his phone call out.

"Your idiot creeper," I corrected as we both laughed again.

"Come on, let's get back, rest a bit, it's been a long day," I suggested as he nodded and we trekked back to the car, the tasks were getting harder, acquiring what we needed was still a priority despite it being hard.

[subornedpalette]

Lobstah Roll Po' Man

I certainly didn't wake up this morning expecting to eat lobster. I'm currently located about 1000 km from the Atlantic Ocean but grew up in New England not far from the coast, so my high standards are rarely met. (A couple of months ago I bravely purchased a live lobster at my local grocery store at a sickening price and made myself a barely decent lobster roll.)

We come to today. I get on pretty well with my local fishmonger, and while picking up my usual salmon this morning, I noticed some very fresh-looking monkfish at $10/pound. Horrifically ugly, and I've never cooked it before, so why not? We bantered a bit and I took home around 3/4 pound.

I intended to eat it for lunch tomorrow, but I had chicken stock on the stove and schmalz rendering on the back burner and chicken tinga in the oven for taco lunches this week and I was a little bit hungry, dammit. So between lunch and dinner I searched and found this recipe for "Monkfish Rolls" from the New York Times which looked promising. The comments section almost dissuaded me, but I soldiered on and decided the best course of action was to aggressively clean the fish (my fishmonger had already removed the outer layers of skin), poach it in butter and wine with aromatics rather than in plain water, and hedge my bets with a flavorful mayonnaise. It turned out pretty good.

Lobstah Roll Po' Man

Ingredients

3/4 pound bone-in monkfish steak, bone removed, skin, membranes and veins thoroughly trimmed

1/4 cup butter

1/4 cup sauvignon blanc

A few sprigs of parsley

Salt and pepper to taste

1 preserved Meyer lemon, minced to a smooth paste

2 hefty pinches Sichuan pepper, finely ground

2 tsp tarragon-infused white balsamic vinegar

1 cup Hellman's mayonnaise

Your best available approximation to a top-split bun

Directions

Cut the aggressively cleaned monkfish into 1/2 inch pieces. Season with salt and pepper. Melt 3 tbsp of the butter in a non-stick skillet with the sauvignon blanc and parsley over medium high heat. When bubbling persists even with an aggressive swirling action, move the parsley to the side of the pan and add the fish. Meanwhile, combine the mayonnaise, preserved lemon, Sichuan pepper, and vinegar and mix well. Set aside. After a few minutes, turn the fish (chopsticks are helpful) and finish cooking. Chill the fish in the fridge, setting aside the infused butter for something else. Meanwhile, toast your bun in the remaining butter. Combine the chilled fish with a healthy dollop of mayonnaise and stuff the bun.

Makes one large "lobster" roll, a few spoonfuls of a "lobster" and white wine-infused butter, and a bunch of leftover flavored mayonnaise.