#What is Tilapia?

[nectar-cellar]

i made a new doll 🥺 what kind of magic do you have ???!!! @sourlemonsimblr i put the face mask on my female base sim and it completely transformed her.

i suppose she is a still a wip, the hair colour and eyes are unchanged from my base sim's settings. i just got so excited and can't stop looking at her.

i must make a few more realistic sims using sls skins... this was a lot of fun...

quick pix in live mode:

[daily-tf2-medic]

Guys what if medic discovered tilapia skin grafting over half a century before it would be widely used in modern medicine. And what if he purposely got one of his teammates critically burned by an enemy pyro so that he could have an excuse to graft tilapia skin over the burns. What if he took that same teammate fishing for the tilapia that would become their skin would that be fucked up or what haha

[amodernpersephone]

wait waitm what the fuck. how did i only know NOW that akanyatsura's character design is by fucking HARADA???? LIKE THE ACTUAL REAL HARADA-SENSEI???? THAT HARADA??? WHAT THD FUCKKKK. WHAT THE FUCKKKKKK. is that why theyre so fruity??? avex / gcrest was out here hiring actual yaoi artists????? AND FUCKING HARADA?????? HARADA OF ALL PEOPLE???????

[nekofantasia]

"Tilapia!"

[reptite]

MIDNIGHT SUPPER

[mermaidchansons]

Warm In December

Terry Richmond x Black Reader

Story Summary: You convince your husband, Terry, to slip away during your annual Christmas Eve party.

Words: 2500+

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ minors do NOT engage (you’ll be blocked), pre-established relationship, married reader, cursing, unprotected sex, P in V, fingering, squirting, slight mentions of breeding kink if you squint a little, breath play, good ole fluff

Author’s Note: Short and sweet. Dedicated to my sweet little bby @megamindsecretlair 💕. It’s still Christmas in my heart! - Ashanti

Christmas time at the Richmond house was always a big celebration. As soon as Thanksgiving dinner was cleaned up, Terry was out gathering the decorations from the garage. It always tickled you how quickly your love of the holiday season had infected him. When you first met your husband, he never had much of a yearning to celebrate. But that all changed when you first confessed your love to him at a local tree lighting ceremony. Every year since, Terry added the tree lighting ceremony onto his evergrowing itinerary of holiday related events. Driving around to look at the lights, gingerbread house competitions, and of course, tonight’s main event; the annual Christmas Eve dinner party. 

You waltzed between your guests dancing in your colorful living room. Terry’s friend Mel was DJ’ing a set of black holiday hits, coaxing folks out of an incoming case of the itis. A few people stopped you on your way to the kitchen; waxing about how delicious everything was. An invite to a Terry x Y/N dinner party was coveted amongst your community. You were practically a young Ina Garten in your own right; pulling off elaborate 3 and 4-course dinners with the likes of curried oxtail, whole fried tilapia, and king crab gumbo. Some of your friends would change their entire flight schedule to eat at the Richmond house on Christmas Eve.

“Ooo T, if these folk keep gassing me up, my heads gone get too big,” you said as you balanced a few empty glasses. 

“Let ‘em gas you. You really outdid yourself this year, baby.”

Going all out was expected of you, and Terry was determined to match your fly this year. Eight months ago, his therapist suggested he take up baking as a way to spend time with his thoughts. And now, he was ready to show your guests what he had been perfecting all this time. You leaned against the door frame and watched your gentle giant pull a pan of steaming hot cinnamon rolls out of the oven. He placed the pan down with cautious hesitation, making you bite back a giggle. 

Although you loved that Terry had cultivated a hobby that worked for him, you couldn’t help but still be tickled by it. Your 6’3, former marine, no-nonsense husband was a home baker. And he looked mighty fine doing it too. He wore his nice fitted polo that hugged every part of his muscle lined frame. He stared down intently through his gold-rimmed glasses that sat at the bridge of his nose as he whipped frosting in a bowl. Placing your tray down, you wrung out your hands; biting your lip as you watched his biceps flex with each whip of the whisk. Flashbacks of your quicky before the party popped into your mind. You’d shown him your dress for the night: a short black dress with dusty pink feathers lining the bottom. He must have liked it, the way he made quick work of hiking the dress over your thick thighs; commanding you to watch yourself in the mirrored ceiling while he greedily lapped at your pussy on the staircase. Jolting back to the present, your middle pooled with desire. Terry spread the cream cheese frosting over the freshly baked pastries and you practically moaned at the sight of it. God, I wish that was me.

“If you finna ogle me like that, you may as well give me a hand.” He playfully shook his head under your stare. It wouldn’t be the first time he feigned disapproval at your lust for him. You were sure it wouldn’t be the last.

Hastily, you crossed the kitchen to press your chest against his back, hugging his waist. Your gold-adorned hands roamed his chest as you hummed along to the music floating in front of the living room. Terry chuckled and the depth of his voice was like honey in your ears. The wine from dinner made your body hum with lust. Probably should have stopped after the second glass. Red wine always made you horny. Your clit was beginning to hurt from how badly you wanted him. With dinner finished, your hostess duties had been mostly completed. Who would notice if you slipped away?

“Here, taste this,” he commanded.

Terry held up a frosting covered finger and you wasted no time in wrapping your pretty pouty lips around it. Nutmeg and cinnamon danced on your tongue as you sucked down to the base of his knuckle. You watched as his bottom lip raked between his teeth, his stormy eyes flashing with desire. 

“Baby, you’re gonna get in trouble playing around like that.” Terry’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed a groan. Releasing his finger with a pop, you looked up at him with your brown sugar eyes and pulled him in by his belt. 

“You promise, lover?” You bat your eyelashes wistfully, causing him to take a precautionary look around. Making a show of ensuring no unsuspecting guest was in eyesight. 

Terry practically melted when you smiled at him, your multi-faced grill illuminated by the warm lights. You were irresistible and you knew it. Perching on your tippy toes, you puckered your lips at him, causing him to smirk. He leaned down and gave you a small peck, much to your dismay. Greedy.

“Terryyyyyyy,” you whined, dragging out the syllables in his name. He leaned down with his lips to your neck, planting an open mouth kiss right where you liked it. His large hands gripped your thick hips, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Y/N,” he whispered into your ear, “you know we have guests. Don’t start something you can’t finish, princess.” His cologne mixed with the smell of the pastries, making you woozy with lust. He was a cinnamon, citrus, and coconut dream. You just wanted a bite.

“I could say the same thing to you. You talking all this shit when I know you’re hard for me.” Straightening back up to look at you, his eyes met yours. You watched as a flash of deviance glazed over those blue-gray eyes. Terry spun you away, pressing his hardened groin against your plump behind. 

“This what you wanted? You wanted to feel this fat dick against that ass, huh?” You could only nod in response, feeling light as air from your husband’s touch. The bass of the music mixed with your ever-quickening heartbeat, filling the spaces in your ears. His touch only worsened it, every caress and squeeze set your skin ablaze. You couldn’t go on like this. You desperately needed friction and he knew it. 

“Mhm, I see them wheels turning in that pretty head. Go set these out and meet me upstairs.” 

“Yes, sir.”

You picked up the glass pan of treats with glee before turning to your husband with your lips puckered. He chuckled deeply and pecked your lips; spinning you around with a smack on your plump behind. Your giggles filled his ears as you walked out. Terry grabbed a jingle bell stirring stick and headed to your shared room. 

After worming your way out of conversations downstairs, you kicked off your feathered heels and hastened up the stairs. Once you entered the room, the sounds of Boyz 2 Men wafted in from below. You bit your lip in anticipation and you stopped to slide down your panties. They were soaked beyond recovery, a usual dilemma that occurred around Terry. Your husband had just wrapped up his teeth routine when you walked in. Already shirtless and ready to please. He made a spinning motion with his finger and you turned with a quickness. Unzipping your dress with one hand, he slipped a thin rod into your right hand. It jingled when you shook it and you rolled your eyes. This game became a tradition ever since your honeymoon at the Christmas markets in France. But with everything that happened this year, you’d almost forgotten about it. A strong hand wrapped around your neck, bringing your attention to the mirror. Your eyes met his and you could have come right then and there. 

“You better keep your eyes straight. You know the rules; every time you come, I need to hear that bell. Understood?” 

“Yes, Daddy,” you cooed. Terry made quick work of sliding the dress over your pretty hair, working carefully to preserve all your hard work. He hoisted you onto the cool counter and sighed as he opened your legs. 

Leaning down, he took your bottom lip between yours and lightly sucked. You couldn’t help but moan against his mouth as he kissed you with vigor. His hand slid up from your plush tummy to your chest, kneading and grabbing at any and every part of you. He loved every bit of you. He always had and it drove you crazy; being desired by him was euphoric. 

Breaking the kiss, he put two fingers in your mouth. You sucked them with excitement, making him stifle a chuckle. You couldn’t help it. Your poor pussy was dripping with want; squeezing around nothing. He popped his fingers out of your mouth and slid them inside your dewy walls with no hesitation. You both let out a drawn-out fuuuuuuuuck in unison. 

“I’ve been thinking about this pussy all night, baby. So damn gorgeous in that little dress, working the room. I’m tryna work you.”

“You play too much- oh!” You giggled in between your moans as your husband slightly bent his fingers inside of you. He watched you intently as he worked you into submission. The building tension in your tummy made you clench around his two digits.  Terry smoothed his hand over your breast before squeezing and twisting your left nipple. Your back arched away from the cold mirror as much as it could without inducing a cramp. 

“Look at this pretty pussy gripping me. Let me see it, baby.” Grabbing your face with his large hand, he turned you to the side. You watched your reflection in the mirrored cabinet, with Terry’s thick arm pumping his fingers in and out of you. Your ears grew hot as you watched with your mouth agape. The sight of it made the coil in your middle tighten before snapping completely. You came with stuttered squirts, moaning out his name.

“Good girl. Go ahead and ring that bell, princess.” 

You weakly shook the stick and his mouth covered yours once again. The sound of the jingling bell mixed with the clanking of his belt. He pulled you to the edge and lined up his hardened member with your entrance. You cradled his chiseled chin in your hand, staring into his eyes as he worked himself inside of you. Your pussy stretched willingly to accommodate his size, just as it did before the party. He rolled his hips at a painfully slow pace, making you feel every inch of him. 

“Fuck, I missed you. You good, Y/N?” Terry smirked at your face contorted in pleasure. You bit down on your lip and nodded wildly, failing at holding back the oncoming orgasm. 

Just the stretch alone was enough to get you there. With just a few pumps into you, the jingle bell echoed in the bathroom. It was astonishing to see how quickly the man could make you come. An evil chuckle bubbled out of his chest as he adjusted his hold on you. Hooking his left arm under your knee, he closed in the space between you. You raked your hooded eyes over his body and sent a quick thank you to the ancestors. God, was he pretty. His pace quickened and he wrapped his free hand around your throat, lightly pressing the sides. 

“Yes, just like that Terrence,” you yelled, turned on from the lessened airflow. 

“Just like that, baby? Just like that, huh?” Your eyes rolled back into your head while you nodded. All sense had gone out of the window as he fucked you dumb. Guests be damned. Both of your moans mixed with the muffled singing of Anita Baker and the cacophony of clapping and lewd squelches. He playfully timed his strokes to the beat of Sweet Love and a mixture of giggles and groans erupted from you. 

“Ease up, Y/N,” Terry groaned stiffly, shutting his eyes tight, “if you keep squeezing me like that, I’ll come.” What a silly man. That’s everything you wanted. You craved the feeling of him filling you to the brim with his seed. The man had you fantasizing about carrying his child for Christ's sake. 

“Come for me then, daddy.”

His thick brows furrowed and you shook your head, giggling more. The tables had turned and you weren’t about to let up. Watching your 6’3 husband writhe from your touch was so much more than satisfying, it was a drug. You craved seeing him in utter ecstasy, watching it overtake him. What a sight to behold. Gripping the edge of the counter with one hand, you steadied yourself and rolled your hips against him. Terry locked eyes with yours and moaned your name, overtaken by the feeling of you wrapped around him. You got lost in his stormy pools as he quickly rutted into you, chasing his undoing. You squeezed around him once more as an orgasm ripped through you. 

“Fuuuuuuck, Terrence,” you groaned out, ringing the bell sloppily. 

He fucked you through the orgasm, overstimulating you until tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. His hips stuttered to a stop as he came, white-hot strands coating your insides and filling you up. Fuck’s and I love you’s trailed into the air while you both caught your breath. You gave the bell rod one more shake, sending the both of you into a fit of laughter. Sharing a peck or two between smiles. He slipped himself out of you with a contented sigh and moved to clean you up. 

Once you made yourselves presentable, you headed down the stairs to rejoin your party hand in hand. Guests were slow dancing to the velvety voice of Samara Joy in the light of the Christmas glow. DJ Mel shot the two of you a knowing look and Terry shrugged before hugging you close to him. 

“We grown, Mel,” Terry said, eliciting a shrug from them. You could only smile and shake your head at the man’s antics.

“We throw a good party, baby. Maybe too good.” Spinning you slowly, he pulled you into him. You pouted while you watched him gently kiss the tops of your manicured hands. 

“Way too good. All the cinnamon rolls are gone and I didn’t get one,” you whimpered sadly and laid your head against his hard chest. He rubbed your back as he swayed you to the music. 

“Mhm, that’s why I made you another batch,” he hummed, the bass in his chest vibrating against your ear. You looked up at him with stars in your eyes and he kissed your forehead. You brought your hand up to caress his face and he pressed a kiss against your palm.

“You’re so real for that, Terrence. Merry Christmas, baby.” A soft smile took over his face when you squeezed his waist with all your might.

“Merry Christmas, princess.” 

Thanks For Reading!

@babybluepeaches @muse-of-mbaku @melaninmarvel @naturallyqueenie @howtoshuckatlife @goldieccentric @archivistofwakanda @alexundefined @minyara-kun @destinio1 @raysunshine78 @madamslayyy @notdsg @ghostfacekill-monger @soufcakmistress @greennightspider @bitchacho25 @jordanhelah @puremolasses @ajspencer1892 @monochrome-pineapple @psuedo4 @bubblyqueen @chaneajoyyy @blowmymbackout @tchallasbabymama @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @jvzmine19 @ashanti-notthesinger

[requinoesis]

I know this is a weird question, but what exactly do the bigger sharks eat in your world? I know Rocky is a Great Hammerhead and they (as a species) are known to be other shark eaters, so is there like an alternative meat that they eat, or do they just stick to stingrays and bony fish?

That's a curious question, and I was quite inspired when I thought about how to answer it!✨

In the past, they used to hunt wild fish, but with the advent of the modern age, they stopped fishing and adapted entirely to the practice of pisciculture. 🐟✨

In a hypothetical future on this Earth, fish are incredibly larger and more abundant. Some have been domesticated, just as we humans used to do, and are treated with deep respect.

In order not to cover too much, I've focused only on the fish that have been domesticated for consumption in the region where my main characters live, called 'Aguazu'.🏝️✨

They are the descendants of species we know, such as Arapaima, Tuna, Tilapia, Sardines, Anchovies, Salmon, Cod, Octopus, Squid, Crab and Shrimp.

These are some of the typical dishes of the Aguazu region, most of which are variations on recipes handed down from the ancient human presence that marked this region a thousand years ago. Lots of seafood-based dishes with a spicy touch! 🌶️✨

Some of these dishes were inspired by real recipes from my country such as: Casquinha de Siri, Tuna Poke, Vatapá, Bobó de Camarão, Moqueca de Peixe, Octopus Rice, Acarajé, Cod Baked in Olive Oil, Cod Croquettes and the sweet dessert called Manjar, which is a coconut pudding with plum syrup!

Things like corn, wheat and other fruits, vegetables and animals domesticated by humans disappeared millions of years ago. So I wondered what other options they could find to use as the main ingredients.

Algae Flour, Palm Oil, Palm Butter, Coconut Milk, Palm Sugar, Domesticated Snake Eggs, Sea Salt. In the Santa Maré region, palm is widely used as the main ingredient, while other regions may prefer ingredients based on algae, for example.

Some domesticated fruits and vegetables are only used to season and enhance the flavor of dishes, but they don't make much difference to their bodies.

There was a time in the past when small and medium-sized sharks feared 'Niuhi', the name for large sharks that could devour smaller sharks such as the great white shark, great hammerhead shark, tiger shark and others.

However, this fear was unjustified, as when a smaller shark fell victim to a wild predator, the Niuhi were the first to be suspected. Fortunately, this has changed over time, although some small displays of prejudice still persist.

They eat several meals a day, and food is plentiful in this civilization, so the great sharks wouldn't need to devour their friends to satisfy their hunger, hehe.

And speaking of Roberto, my big hammerhead shark, if he gets really hungry, a Tuna Poke is enough to make him very happy and satiated! 🍣✨

[spennsrs]

cuddles with spencer

━━━━━━ 🌙 ━━━━━━━ ꒰ ͜͡➸ ease my troubled soul ━━━━━━ 🌙 ━━━━━━━ ꒰ ͜͡➸ i'm a sucker for a good cuddle blurb! ꒰ ͜͡➸ reader implied gender neutral! also reader calls spencer silly pokemon nicknames

a long day, and spencer was finally home. the shoot week was tough, to say the least, and he just wanted to sleep. thank the stars above his partner had been home all day, so he didn't even have to wait for them.

keys jingle softly as spencer enters the shared apartment of him and his partner, thoughts melding together into one huge blob of... a mess. he couldn't even think straight. it was a little overwhelming how everything seemed to just buzz by at the speed of light. it wasn't often it got bad, but shoot weeks would be the death of him eventually...

... but maybe the smell of last night's chicken parmesan would bring him back. "hi, spence!" and the sound of his partner's voice.

spencer sheds off his jacket and places it neatly in the coat rack (a gauche chair his partner bought form some vintage store) before heading to the kitchen. "smells delicious, my little tilapia." he chuckles, arms slipping around [y/n]'s waist delicately before pressing his body against theirs. their warmth was always so nice... and suddenly, he wasn't too hungry.

"yeah, quite the chef i am. you hungry?" they ask, but to spencer it's all jabber, like any adult in the peanuts gallery talking to the kids. he has his other half, his partner, the love of his life in his arms. no filming, no posing for pictures on camera, no having to be online persona. just... him and his favorite person. it's silent for a moment and [y/n] only smiles, shaking their head. "takin' that as a no." spencer doesn't really clock what happens after that, but he feels them moving and he can only assume they're cleaning up the dinner they had.

before they can put it back in the fridge, spencer is letting them go before spinning them around to face him. there's a sleepy smile on his face, and his hands pull them closer to tuck his nose into their neck. spencer can feel [y/n]'s hands in his hair, keeping him close and spencer swears he could fall asleep right now. "... can we cuddle..?" he sleepily murmurs, and there's no answer, just a gentle tug of his sleeves. that's a yes in his book. he reluctantly pulls away and lets his partner lead him to the bedroom. he didn't care to change clothes, he just wanted his partner. the two head into their shared bedroom and spencer goes to flop on the bed, sighing at the familiarity and comfort. "c'mon, lovebug. i wanna hold you."

[y/n] rolls their eyes and they go to shed the sweatshirt they had on (which was really spencer's) before laying it on the dresser and laying in bed. "not even gonna get under the sheets, spence? c'mon, bubs." that earns a low groan from the male, slinging an arm over his partner and dragging them closer. his nose nuzzles into the juncture of their neck, inhaling their scent with a happy sigh. spencer lets his hand drift down to their hip, gently slipping his hand under their shirt to feel their warm skin. this... was heaven to him.

spencer lets his lips press soft, featherlight kisses to their neck slowly, his own lips tugging into a wide smile. he loves this, just laying with them and showering them in love. his fingers dance a light pattern on their skin, allowing most of his weight to comfortably lay in his partner. [y/n]'s arms hug around his neck, a hand traveling to his curly hair.

"hm... don't cut your hair, spenceaboo. this is a good length for ya..." they murmur lowly, almost too quiet for spencer to hear. he does though, and he snorts at that nickname. 'spenceaboo? what, like that pumpkin pokemon thing?" he teases before gently nipping at their neck. spencer can feel [y/n] shiver, and he grins.

"shut up, you call me weird shit all the time-! let me call you weird shit back!" they whine softly and try to shove him off. spencer, however, the stubborn little shit he is, only cackles and nuzzles closer. the two, cuddling, was spencer's favorite thing.

he could spend the rest of his life in [y/n]'s arms, and he'd die a happy man. he adores this person, and he honestly... hoped they ended up married. they could have their own little version of courtney and shayne's sudden marriage announcement...

"spence? you listen?" spencer blinks and he lifts his head to gaze at [y/n], eyes a bit wide. '... you're daydreaming again, aren't you?"

embarrassment flooded through him and his cheeks heat up a bit. "aha... maybe... sorry, lovebug." he chuckles softly, before leaning down to pepper kisses all over their face. "can't help it! you're so cuddly, like my own personal teddy bear... i'm listening now, though."

as [y/n] goes back to talking, spencer is technically listening this time, but he can't help but smile all dreamily. he was such a lucky guy..

[writinganon1]

Soap the toned-down version 💪

A thought was thinked. Thunk? Idk 

@cokoweee cut out what i didn't think the peeps here would vibe with. but ur other anons make me think I prolly would have been fine lol

oh yeah, a shameless self plug is in here too coz I thought it was silly

~

The pot on the stove simmered, onion and garlic sautéing, filling the kitchen with a pleasant aroma. She stirred it absently, looking over her shoulder to the lab where Othello had locked himself all day. She needed a way to get him out. He’d disappeared sometime yesterday and had only emerged to eat dinner and sleep for a few hours at night. 

She’d allowed it at first. He was working on something again. She hadn’t seen him put so much effort into something since a few months ago when she’d needed her wristband updated. 

But this was new.

She’d never seen him quite so devoted to a project in the year he’d been living with him. 

It didn’t matter though. She was going to drag him out no matter what it took. 

Pouring broth and rice into the pot, she turned the burner down to medium to let it simmer. Grabbing butter and herbs she placed them neatly on the counter before marching to the lab. 

~

The door opened with a shudder, purple light flickering from the center of the room. It stopped as soon as the light from the hallway filtered in. Othello shoved something under a blueprint, grabbed a small screwdriver, and began fiddling with a small object.

Idiot. 

“Watcha workin' on?” She asked, hand placed on his shoulder as she began to massage out the knots in his muscles. 

He stiffened slightly, “Nothing! Nothing at all to help you.” He hunched over the table, tail flicking nervously as he covered the blueprints for whatever he was working on. 

“Mmmmmmm” She pressed her hand harder against his shoulder. “Then you won’t mind coming to eat dinner with me?”

“Ken I-” 

She set her chin on his shoulder, turning her head so her mouth was flush with the side of his head. “I’m sure whatever you’re working on can wait.” She murmured, pressing her lips to his neck.

His pulse quickened against her lips as he placed a hand against her head. “I’m sure you’re right.” 

“Thank you.” She smiled, grabbing his tail and yanking him off the chair.

He screeched, throat bobbing as he clicked his jaw, limbs sprawling on the floor as he fell. 

Leaning down to his level, she gripped his hair and lifted his head. “You’re washing your hair after this.”

“Yeah, yeah whatever.” He laughed, waving her away. “But-” 

“I wash your hair, got it.” She said letting go of his hair as she stood up. 

“WHAT THE HE-” His words fell short, muffled by the ground as he slammed into the floor again. “I hate you.” He grumbled. 

“I know.” She trilled, grabbing his tail and dragging him across the floor to the kitchen. 

He clawed desperately at the floor, trying to gain some footing before giving up and going entirely limp. She slowly hauled him across the tile, angry hisses broken by clicks filling the air.

“What are you doing?”

“Mm’s Friday.” He mumbled against the floor. 

She kicked his side, earning a low hiss as he pushed himself off the ground with a huff. 

“Can we swim after this?” He asked, hauling himself onto the counter as he looked at the stove. “Because I yearn for the water Ken. YEARN.” 

“We?” She, feigned shock as she placed the pan back onto the stove and waved him over. “C’mon, you’re helping.” 

“I have no idea how to cook that.” He said, throwing his hands up. 

She rolled her eyes. “And yesterday you forgot where the dishwasher was..” 

“One time! I forget to load the dishwasher ONE time!” He jumped off the counter throwing his hands into the air as he walked over to her. “One time!”

“Mhm. Cut,” She said placing a cutting board, a fillet knife, and a large tilapia in front of him.

“Right then.” He said, chopping off the fins and tail of this fish. “Now what?”

She guided the knife along the long side of the fish. “Now you get the guts out.” She said, reaching in and removing pink masses of flesh. “You can throw those away, can’t make anything with the-” 

He gave a quick thumbs-up as he snatched them off the table swallowing them whole. 

“Gross.” 

“Pretty good actually.” 

“Alright.” She sighed, chopping the head off. 

Turning the fish, she slid the knife down its body, opening it to reveal the meat inside. Carefully gliding the knife across the rib bones, she separated the bones and set them on the table before grabbing a pair of tweezers and extracting the pin bones. 

Othello sat quietly, occasionally twitching from his perch on the counter. “Can I have those?”

“Gotta cook it first.” She mumbled, not looking in his direction. 

“You don’t have to cook bones?” He argued back, plucking them from the plate and stuffing them in his mouth. 

She turned wide-eyed as he crunched. “Genuinely why would you do that.” 

“Good source of calcium.” He shrugged, face twisted in confusion as if he had done something completely normal  

“YOU COULD JUST DRINK MILK?” 

“Milk is gross.” 

“YOU JUST ATE BONES.” 

“And they were very tasty.” He smiled, a small squeaking noise just behind the words. 

She turned, her face brightening. “What was that?” 

He rolled his eyes. “You’ve heard it before.” He paused, a smile creeping over his face. “You should start drinking more milk though. Might help with your height.” 

Whipping around she marched over to him, grabbing his hair and pulling him down to her level. “Von Ryan, one more word out of you about that and I will find a way to drown your stupid turtle head.” Taking a breath she returned to the stove. “ And the weird noise you made? Not usually low enough for me to hear.” Sprinkling the tilapia with salt and pepper she carefully added the fish into the simmering oil. “Can you get started on the butter? Everything you need is in the bowls on the counter. Just mix it and it should be good.”

He nodded, adding the chopped herbs and spices to a small bowl and mashing them together until they became a smooth paste. “Now what?” 

“See that pot on the stove?” She said, pointing to a purple-lidded pan. “ Put that in the oven. Twenty minutes and take it out to stir it before it goes in for another twenty. When it’s done, put some butter and cheese in there.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

She flipped the fish over, the skin flaking against the spatula. “Anything else you want?  I think this is good for me but you usually eat more.” 

Humming quietly he rummaged through the fridge. “Think I’m good,” he mumbled over his shoulder.

“Mkay, go ahead and set the table then wouldja?”

~

She watched his fork screech along the plate as he struggled to pick up the tilapia. He chased the bite for a few seconds before setting his fork down seizing the fish in his hand and swallowing it whole. 

“You act like you were raised in a sewer.” 

He looked up, wiping a smudge of sauce from his mouth, frowning. “Well I hate to break it to ya but….”

She rolled her eyes, finishing the last few bites of the meal. A flicker of movement caught her eye. “Othello.” She snapped. 

He turned wide-eyed, nail still dug into his arm. 

“Stop scratching at that shed or I’ll get the mittens of shame.” 

“Nooooooooooo. Anything but those!” He screeched, pushing against the table. 

She paused, thinking for a moment before smiling. “Tell me what you’re doing in the lab for so long today and I’ll keep the mittens in the drawer.” 

“I haven’t been working that long.” He protested, tail twittering against the chair. 

“You were gone when I got up and this is the first time I’ve seen you all day.” She said pointedly, a fork aimed at his face. “You’ve been doing this all week.” 

He shrugged “…The roots of invention are bitter, but the fruit is sweet.”

“It’s 7:00! The door’s been locked. I couldn’t get in. Sheldon kept getting in my way.” She pressed, leaning forward. “Don’t bend Aristotle’s quotes to hide.” She added as an afterthought. 

“Aristotle would have wanted me to finish,” he said snottily, snout pointed to the roof as he stood.

“Well, Kendra wanted to see her husband at some point during the day today.” She snapped back, ring slamming against the table as she shot up. 

His eyes widened and he slowly moved his gaze to her. “Well, maybe Kendra’s husband was trying to do something nice for his wife.”

“Kendra had no way of knowing that!” She scowled. “She didn't know anything about why her husband wouldn’t answer her texts.” She paused, taking a breath as she shrunk into herself. “Kendra’s husband should give her at least a little bit of information before he disappears for a week without a word.” She whispered.

He softened and moved closer before whispering back. “But then Kendra’s surprise would be ruined.”

“Whatever.” She groaned. “Just tell me next time ahead of time before you close yourself up in that stupid lab.”  She leaned into his side. “It was just me and Mr. Nubbins all week. He doesn’t exactly talk back. If you would just tell me before you go off and leave me so I can come up with somewhere to go… Or at least people to see.” She gestured vaguely to the empty subway station. “That’d be great because I’d rather go back to the farmhouse for a week with Sagi than stare at these ugly concrete walls.” 

“How was I supposed to know- “ He paused, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her barely above the ground as he hugged her. “Sorry I didn’t-I wasn’t - why didn’t you say something?”

She shrugged against his arms. “You were always gone when I woke up and by the time you did come to bed, you always fell asleep before I could say a word. You’d just assume I was already asleep and lay a hand on my shoulder before you passed out.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be.” 

“I won’t do it again.” He promised, holding her closer. 

She pressed her face harder against his side as his tail curled around her calf. “Why do you do that though?” She asked, words muffled by his plastron. 

“Hmm?”

“The hand thing. It’s every night you have to have your hand on my shoulder or my arm or chest or stomach, my anything.” She looked up, eyes meeting his. “Why?”

He froze, tilting his head slightly. “To make sure it’s real.” He took a deep breath. “Sometimes it feels too good to be true, ya know? After everything that happened. It’s easier to fall asleep at night when I can feel the heat radiating from your body, the pulse beneath your skin, the steady beat of your heart.”

She cocked her head. “If that’s so important to you, why haven’t you spent any time with me this week?”

He grinned. “Because sometimes, making something for someone you love is almost like being there with them. Anticipating their reaction is worth a few days of work.”

“Not for me.” She huffed “I didn’t get any of that. I got left alone.”

“Ken, I’d never leave you alone.” He murmured, pressing his snout to the top of her head “As a matter of fact, you’re coming with me.” He said, a smile creeping into his voice. 

“Huh?”

He hooked an arm around her middle, effortlessly hoisting her up, and began walking to the old convenience store he’d turned into a large pool.

She shifted her weight so it wasn’t around her stomach full of food and let her arms dangle. “I don’t have a bathing suit on.”

“I know.” He laughed, cheekily smiling down at her, tail whipping back and forth. 

“No! No, No NO!  Nope! I just washed these!” She screeched, kicking against him in a futile effort to free herself. 

Her weight shifted ever so slightly as he used his free arm door to the pool opened with a shudder and she flailed, kicking as he brought her closer to the water.

“OTHELLO VON RYAN IF YOU DROP ME IN THERE I WILL MURDER YOU!”

He stopped, looking down to her, a stupid smile on his face.

“What?” She snapped. “Plotting how you’re gonna do it?”

“Nope.” He grinned wider. “I was just thinking that if you killed me that’d be another felon for you.” 

Her eyes widened as her mouth fell open, -“Wait!”

His tail wagged as he set her on the edge of the pool. “A few more of those and you can run for president!” He said snarkily, contorting his face into a smirk and bobbing his head. He raised a finger and straightened up. “They’re eating the dogs. They’re eating the cats.” He pointed his finger to her, “You! Have you ever eaten a pet?”

“I think you need to look at a map.” She mumbled taking off her socks and dipping her feet into the water.

“It was funny!” He protested. 

She shrugged. “It’s funny to make fun of the orange man, not nearly as funny to not know where your wife is from.”

“…I was raised in a sewer.” 

“You were raised in America.” She corrected. 

“I thought you were born here?” 

She nodded. “Born here in New York, but my parents raised me there for as long as they could afford to, back in Indonesia.” 

His face twisted in thought as he slipped into the pool. He looked to her face and she nodded. His eyes lit up as he dove under the water, the walls echoing the squeaks and trills as he swam. 

Smiling softly, she let herself relax, shoulders loosening as she kicked at the water. A streak of green raced beneath the surface, almost faster than she could comprehend. It wasn’t often she came in here with him. She could swim, but it wasn’t exactly a passion of hers.

He swam laps around the bottom of the pool, seemingly exhaustless, before slowly floating to the surface, only his snout visible. She watched for a moment longer to ensure he wouldn’t go back to his crazed swimming. He floated lazily, occasional pockets of air bubbling from his nose, not a hint of movement elsewhere. 

Pulling her shirt over her head, she slid into the pool, the water flowing around her body. The green flash immediately appeared next to her, his eyes just barely above the water. He raised his eyebrows.

She shrugged and held out her arm. His lips quirked up and he grabbed her waist. 

“I thought you just washed those?”

“I took my shirt off.”

He didn’t respond, simply dragging her to the middle of the pool. 

“Aye! I can swim.”

He stopped, turning to her. “If my memory serves me correctly- and it does- tell me that you said that at the lake.” Staring pointedly, he smiled. “And then you nearly drowned.”

She spluttered, words stuck on her tongue.”Uh”

“That’s what I thought.” Letting her waist go he waited for a moment to make sure she stayed afloat before flipping to his back, patting his plastron. She climbed atop, flattening herself against his chest as he floated. 

Latching her arm around his neck, she relaxed completely, letting her body fall limp against his plastron. 

Her foot hung off his side, water lapping against her ankle. “Othello?” She whispered after a moment. 

He hummed, the vibration rumbling against her torso. 

She traced the side of his face, fingers stopping where his ears would be. “You would look nice with earrings.” She murmured.

“Thanks but I don’t-“

She groaned, taking her hand from his face and letting it fall into the water. “Ugh, your earlobes are uncircumcised.”

“I don't have earlobes, Ken.” 

“I’ll find the tape tomorrow.” She said after a beat of silence. 

He laughed, jostling her slightly. “I’ll do whatever you say. You think I’ll look pretty? I’ll try ‘em on for your sake.”

She smiled against his plastron. “I know.”

Time ticked by slowly. There was nothing but the beat of their synchronized heartbeats, gentle waves, and their intertwined bodies. 

“I had a dream last night that I was on a walk and four dudes tried to steal my bag.” He said suddenly. “But I didn’t have any bags so they just took my bō.”

“Thanks for telling me, bud.”

“Anytime” he shrugged.

She paused, frowning slightly.

“I have other dreams too. The other day I dreamt that I was in a pool of jello.” He shuddered. “It was so sticky Ken. So sticky.” 

She shook her head. “It just occurred to me that you might have never had one of the dreams I’ve been having pretty often.” She said, words muffled against his shoulder.

“Which is?”

She paused, finger sweeping arcs over his neck. “Kids.”

“…Oh.” He turned, taking her in his arms as he swam to the edge of the pool deck. He set her down gently, placing his head on her thighs, arms wrapped around her bare waist.

“Not like us, having kids. Like I assume that’s how it happens I guess but- ugh I don’t even think that’s possible.” Curling her torso around his head, she let her body weight fall against him. “But I have dreams where I give birth to a little girl. Ya know? She looks just like me. And I raise her and I love her.” She put her hand around his neck, gently tracing the soft skin of his throat. 

“You’re there too. It’s nice. And it’s not always the same girl. My dreams sort of, rotate I guess? There’s one that looks like me, one that looks like you, and one that’s a mix. Just depends on the night.” She sighed. “But then I wake up and suddenly my picturesque life is gone, and I don’t have a child to hold.” 

She tensed, tightening her grip on his neck. “And it’s so stupid because despite it all I’ve still got you. But my arms have never felt so empty without someone small to hold. And the child I raised for years?” She took a deep breath, her emotions threatening to boil over. “She’s gone, Dee. I don’t even remember her name. But you know what’s even worse? Sometimes I wake from those and you’re not there. You’re off tinkering in the lab and I’m alone.” 

She pulled away, gently lifting his chin before cupping his cheeks. “The bed has never felt colder than when I wake up from those dreams. It makes it feel as if all of this-“ She gestured to the walls of the pool. “Isn’t real. Because I wake up and I’m slammed into a reality where she was nothing more than a figment of my imagination.”

He didn’t say a word, merely looked into her eyes, hugging her closer. “How often do you have those dreams?”

She shrugged, looking towards the middle distance. “It depends.”

“Elaborate.”

“Well, you’ve been pretty much MIA all this week, so I’ve been a little lonely which always makes the dreams more intense.”

“I’m sorry.” He murmured against her chest. “Anything else?”

She shrugged. “Hormones are all outta wack which always makes my dreams more vivid.”

“Oh, ya know what that makes a lot of sense!”

“What’s that supposed to mean!”

“You always get kinda mopey and anxious when you ovulate.” He grinned, his eyebrows waggling. “But sometimes it’s a little more ~fun~” 

“Ugh”

He threw his hands up. “Hey, all I’m saying is that I never initiate anything like that. I leave it up to you.” He shrugged. “That particular time is when you usually go for stuff like tha-"

“Are you tracking my menstrual cycle?” She burst out. “Because if you are, that's actually insane.”

“Not on purpose but we share a bathroom, and.” He paused, “I have a decent understanding of the cycles… so.”

“I’m actually a little scared not gonna lie.”

“April gave me a very in-depth lesson when I was younger after I  found her curled in the fetal position on my bed one day.” He frowned. “Now that I think about it she might have been exaggerating to make us do things for her.”

“Oh, she definitely wasn’t exaggerating. Periods are a living hell. You bleed outta ya coochie for like a week while your uterus decides to punch your insides.”

He pulled away, face twisted. “ I’m gonna go get more stuff.”

“Oh! That’s why you have little heating pads and Midol here!”

His eyes widened. “Did you take those pills? They haven’t been used for like years; they’re most definitely expired.”

“I checked. I threw the pack out but I was kinda wondering.” 

“Yeah, it was because of April. We left stuff for her in the bathroom and we always had a stash of chocolate and ice cream for her.”

She looked to him, “You should, like, I dunno, start doing that again.”

“I’ve already asked Drax to pick some stuff up.”

 She laughed, throwing her hands into the air “Thank you thank you thank you!”

He smiled, resting his face back on her thighs. “ I’m the best. I know. But about that dream.”

She sighed. “Not much to say. Just feels a little weird I guess.” 

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Come to bed?”

He wrapped his other arm around her. “ ‘Course Ken.” 

She ran her fingers through his hair. “I forgot you knotted your hair into an absolute mess!”

He grinned sheepishly as he shrugged. “Shower?”

“Lord knows you need it.” 

He hummed in acknowledgment. “Can we stay like this a bit longer?”

“Yeah.”

She worked her hands around his head, gently untangling the knots he had created as she hummed. She stopped, fingers working through a tangle. 

“Hmmm?” He looked up, eyes locked on hers. 

She laughed, a malicious grin on her face.“So you can boat!”

“THAT'S NOT HOW I WORK!” 

“Explain to me the definition of a boat then.” 

He scowled. “ A small vessel propelled on water by oars, sails, or an engine.” 

“Ah hah!” She lifted one of his arms up. “ You were using your arms to propel! BOOM! A BOAT!”

He pushed her away. “ My arm is not a pole.” 

“Whatever you say, boatman.” 

She screeched as his arm flew out, hooking around her middle and throwing her into the water. Spluttering, she floated to the surface. “Guess I touched a nerve there huh?” 

“I am not a boat, and I am not a pool toy. I am an object not to be reckoned with!”

“Whatever you say bud.” 

He sighed and lifted her out of the pool. “Let's go.” 

“Give me two seconds to grab my stuff and we’ll be right as rain.” 

He hummed in response, hoisting her over his shoulder.

“-Hrk-“ She slapped his shell. “Put me down!”

He didn’t ask another question, simply lowering her dot the ground. “You good?”

She scowled, “We had dinner like thirty minutes ago! No, I am not ‘good’ to be thrown over your shoulder like a bag of flour!”

“Sorry.”

~

The water fell from the shower head, steaming the room. She poured lavender bubble bath into the water, stirring it with her hand. Satisfied with the temperature, she turned off the faucet and went to find Othello. 

He was lying on the floor of their bedroom again, a heating lamp balanced precariously on his dresser. His fingers twitched briefly before he chirped quietly. 

Smiling, she used her foot to kick at his side. 

He startled, hands splaying to the side, his bottom jaw hitting the bottom as he clicked angrily. “How dare you attack me in my hour of sorrow!” 

“That was not an attack.” She kicked his side, “Get up or I’ll drag you there. You can pout about whatever you’re sad about later.” 

Groaning he got to his feet and grabbed the lamp as he shuffled to the bathroom. “I’m taking this.” 

“What happened to your yearning for the water?” She laughed, following him to the next room. 

He grumbled, almost too low for her to hear, and whipped his head around. “Well, I can’t swim in a BATHTUB!” 

She pointed to the tub. “In.” 

He shot her one last look before slinking into the tub. 

Placing the lamp above the tub she patted his head. “Good?” 

“Yea-” He paused, suddenly noticing the bubbles. He frowned, looking up at her. “Why?” 

Rolling her eyes she handed him a bar of soap. “Wash.” 

He ran the bar over his arms twice before handing it back to her. 

“That’s all you’re going to do?” 

Nodding he sunk a bit deeper into the water. “I washed.”

“Absolutely not.” She flicked his head. “You really were born in a sewer you disgusting worm.” 

“We have been over that fact, yes.” He said somberly. 

She threw a bottle of body wash at him. “Lather it between your palms and then lather it into your skin. Deeper clean, lasting scent”  

Nodding slowly he rubbed the soap between his hands until it foamed before working it into his skin. 

She gave a quick thumbs up, grabbing her brush and conditioner from the tub side. Rubbing the conditioner into the worst knots, she yanked her brush through his hair.

“OW!” 

She whacked the top of his head again. “Don’t be dramatic it wasn’t that big of a knot.” 

“You nearly broke my neck!” 

“I could break other things.” 

He turned around, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Be gentle, it’s my first time.” 

Grabbing his hair she tilted his head back, making eye contact with him. “I’ll do what I want.” 

“I know.” 

She let his hair go and worked her way through the tangles. 

They sat in comfortable silence, the occasional churr breaking the quiet .“Hold on, I gotta get the shower head to get this out of your hair.” 

He didn’t say anything, just watched as she climbed on the tub wall to grab the nozzle. 

She turned the water on, letting it flow over his head when he suddenly moved. 

“Do you want to hear about something?” He didn’t wait for her to respond. “Yeah, you do. Ok, so there's this family, right? And they are like celebrities in their little world.” He waved his arms, tilting his head. “And they all have powers. And there's this whole prophecy telling them that they’re going to save the world. But when they go to save the world, all of them-” 

She cut off his sentence by spraying the shower head into his face.  

“I- Are you trying to waterboard me?” He managed after a moment.

“I need you to stop talking about that for a sec. You’re moving your head and I can’t properly wash it.” 

“Oh.”

“You can keep talking just maybe about something you’re a tad less passionate about.”

“So basically the whole thing is a retelling of Greek stories. Like all of the characters are derived from Greek myths. And while most of them don’t interact in mythology, they do here. And then, the main character's best friend is named after a Greek constellation! But of course the-” He paused, tensing. 

She took her hands off of his head. “I thought you wanted to talk?”

“Well, I can’t exactly form sentences when my head is being used as a gearshift.” 

Patting his shoulder she planted a small kiss to his head. “Good thing we’re done.” 

She climbed back onto the tub wall, hanging the shower head back on the hook. Turning, she hesitated slightly. 

Othello took it as an invitation, grabbing her bare waist and dragging her into the water. 

She gasped. “Wha-”

He hugged her, wrapping his arms around her body and pulling her close. “Hi.” He whispered against her ear. 

“Hi.” She whispered back, leaning into him. 

His hands crept up her beck slowly, savoring each inch of skin they touched. Her shirt pooled around her, his hands forcing the fabric away from her. He crossed his arms against her, left hand on her right shoulder and pulled her close. 

Water dripped nearby, echoing across the bathroom walls. The sound rippled outwards, meshing with the sound of their breathing. A perfect symphony. 

She melted against him, reveling in the closeness of their bodies. How sweet it was to be so close to a lover. 

He tiled her chin up, mouth parted slightly. 

A small nod. 

He lowered his hands to her hips, lifting her barely out of the water, kissing her gently. She leaned closer, her lips pressing into his. 

He faltered, breath hot against her face.  She wrapped her legs around his waist, head resting against his shoulder. 

Lowering his head, he planted feather-light kisses against her neck. She tilted her head, inviting him closer. He moved down her neck, pressing kisses against her skin. Stopping barely above her collarbone, he shifted her to rest higher against him. 

He kissed her like there was nowhere else he’d rather be, lips traveling along her skin. He lowered his head, resting against her chest. 

“I love you, you know that right?” He murmured, breath tickling her wet skin. 

She hooked an arm around his neck. “I know.” 

He stalled. “It’s just that I don’t think you quite understand. I don’t think there's enough words in the world for me to explain just how much you mean to me. I can never tell you enough. There’s always a part of me that wants to give you more.” 

Unhooking her legs, she turned around to face him. “You’ve given me more than I could ever ask for.” 

He shook his head, “It’s not enough.” 

She frowned inching slowly up his lap. “Maybe for you.” She kissed his mouth, hard, hands tangling in his hair as she pressed herself closer. “But you are what I want.” She pressed a kiss to his neck. “I’ll never ask for more.” 

Smiling he placed a hand on the small of her back, the other against her waist, finger rubbing circles against her shoulder. “I love you.” 

She leaned against his chest. “Come to bed?” 

He sighed. “I have to finish something, Ken. " He stuck out his tongue. "Also, you taste like soap right now.” 

She nodded slowly, “You know how it goes in the shower. I’m gonna get ready for bed then.” 

“Wait!” Grabbing her arm, he pulled her back. “I know this isn’t everything you do for a shower. I don't feel as soft as you do. We can finish this and then I’ll finish my project for realsises.” He stopped, leaning back so she could look at his face. “ I can wait until tomorrow though if you want.” 

“We can finish this, but only if you come to bed before one.” She smiled. “I’ll be waiting.” 

He grinned. “I can do that.” 

She watched as he climbed from the tub, water dripping from his hair. Following behind him, she froze as he grabbed her waist. 

He gave her a lopsided smile before pushing her back. 

She gasped as the cold tile slammed against her wet back. A cool breeze coiled around her legs, sliding her arms and spilling over the back of her neck. “Eh?”

His eyes locked onto hers, fingers tracing the outline of her body. He moved closer, breath tickling her shoulder. “I was being serious.” Lifting her hips, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I can wait until tomorrow if you need.” 

Shrugging, she broke away from the wall and pulled on a pair of dry pants. "Whatever works for you. Turn around real quick."

He shut his eyes, and she yanked her wet shirt and bra over her head, pulling one of his discarded hoodies over herself. "Let's go get you all soft and purdy."

~ 

He churred against her skin. “My favorite pillows.”

She swatted at his head. “Hold still, I’m trying to do stuff here.” 

He melted closer to her. Clutching at the pillow behind her back, he eased his hand beneath the pillow to press a hand to her back. 

Opening a bottle of unscented lotion, she mixed it in her hand with the lavender-scented oil until it became a homogeneous mixture. She spread it evenly between her hands before smoothing it over his shell. 

He twitched slightly at the touch, relaxing again as she massaged in into his skin. 

“It smells so good.” He whispered against her chest, a quiet churr hidden beneath the words.

“It smells like me.” 

He nodded. “That’s why it smells so good.” 

There was silence again. Just the warmth of their bodies pressed together as she worked the mixture over his dry shedding skin. 

“Did you know I was meant to be a weapon?” He mumbled quietly, looking up. 

“No?”

He shrugged against her. “Yeah, I was meant to destroy the human race or something to save Yoki or something like that.” 

“You are really bad at your job” She laughed. “I’m not even fighting back or anything and you’ve made no move against me.” 

“Thank you for that.” He grumbled. “Would you rather I fulfill that prophecy?” 

“You and your prophecies. You seriously have got to stop reading that book I think it’s messing with your brain.” 

He smiled. “It was written by a psych major, so it’s supposed to do that.” He looked up again.  “Ok, you gotta tell me a story from your childhood now. 

“Hmmmmm. When I was younger and my dad remarried Jason’s mom I didn’t like him coming into my room because he wasn’t really my brother at that point, he was just some kid. So to keep him out I created a monster named Allen and we were best friends, but he told me that he hated Allen and if Allen ever came in the room he would eat him.”

“Did it work?”

“Yeah. Or at least until our parents found out and then I got in trouble and they told me I couldn't do stuff with Allen to scare him anymore. But Jason was still scared so we had a really big going away party for Allen so Jason would no longer be tormented by what I had created.”

“I am frightened.” 

“Good.” She grabbed the toothbrush by the side of the couch and scrubbed at the loosened skin left over from their bath. 

He melted against her immediately, an odd noise emitting from his throat. 

“What’s that?” 

“I actually had no idea you could hear that.” He replied simply. 

“Ok, but what is it?” 

He shrugged. “Purring.” 

“You’re like a little cat! You and Mister Nubbins need to hang out more!” 

“ I am not going to ‘hang out’ with the nasty street cat you found.” 

She pouted, “But he’s so cuteeeeee.” 

“I prefer you to him.” 

Placing the toothbrush back behind the couch, she patted his shell. “I’m done, I’m gonna go find Mister Nubbins and give him the love you refuse to.” 

“Mmmno.” He tightened his grip on her back. “You’re warm. Stay.” 

“Let me sit up a bit?”

Nodding he pushed himself up and scooted over to let her get up. As soon as she settled in, he wrapped his arm around her thigh, resting his head against it. 

She grabbed her phone from the side table, taking out the camera, and snapping a quick picture. 

K- He told me he was a force to be reckoned with about an hour ago

C -He’s such an idiot sometimes I swear

C- Wanna see Cassy jr? 

K- IS THAT EVEN A QUESTION? 

She smiled at the video of Casey teetering around the farmhouse, Cali hunched over one of Casey’s stuffed animals. The video beneath her blurred and she rubbed at her eyes, the day’s events hitting her slowly

“Tello?”

“Mmmm?”

“I’m two seconds away from falling asleep right now.” 

He sat up, maneuvering her to lay across his legs. “I’ll be right here.”

“I don’t even know why.” She hooked an arm around his waist, curling her head against his plastron as she drifted off. “I didn’t do anything.” 

He ran his hand through her hair. “Sometimes it be like that.” 

~

“ 起きろケン” ( wake up Ken) 

“Eh?” 

He planted a kiss on her head. “Wake up, I finished.” 

She pulled herself off his chest, face twisted in confusion. 

Smiling he put her hand over her eyes. “It’s a surprise, you have to see it all cool.” He explained. 

“Ok?” 

Removing his hands, he revealed a small purple bot. 

“What is that?” 

“Turn around.” 

She complied, twisting so the back of her head was facing him. 

“What do you want?” 

“To go back to bed.” She grumbled. 

He laughed quietly. “Soon, but what kind of hairstyle do you want?”

“I dunno a bun?” 

The bot lit up, light purple before he placed it on the back of her head. Strands of her hair moved, pulling into a messy bun on the middle of her head. 

She turned around, eyes wide. “That’s why your hair was a mess!” 

He nodded sheepishly. “It took a lot of tries to get it right.” 

“Thank you.” She crashed into him, holding him in an embrace. 

“Course.” 

“Bed?” 

He scooped her up bridal style and carried her to their room. Laying her gently on the mattress he went to grab the heating lamp from the bathroom, attaching it above his side of the bed. 

She watched slowly, extending an arm out. 

He set a new blanket down, smoothing it over space before climbing into bed, and curling up next to her. 

“Are you getting sick or something? You’ve been attached by the hip  to that lamp all day. And the added blanket isn't helping your case.” She murmured, pressing herself closer, tracing the faint outline of his backpiece before planting a small kiss along each of the scars. 

He turned, facing her, hooking their ankles together, arm draped over her side. “Mmmmnno. It’s just getting colder so I’m sleepier than usual. And my stupid annual shed came earlier this year so I’m actually dying over here.” 

“Anything I can do to help?”

He shook his head. “It’s fine, just a bit itchy.” He gave her a quick squeeze. “Good night Ken. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

She smiled. “Will you remember where the dishwasher is tomorrow?” 

“One time Kendra.” He mumbled against her hair. “ One time I forget to load the dishwasher. How long are you going to hold that against me?”

“As long as we’re together.” She whispered. 

“Forever then.” He whispered back, breath tickling the top of her hair. 

She placed her head against his carapace, ear placed above his heart, listening to the constant rhythm. “Forever,”

~

if you get any of my references I LOVE YOU

i'm gonna go eat popcorn now I think

@crowleys-pockets ( you can read this one before I show you the other one tmmr. DON'T LOOK AT THE OTHER DOC TILL I'M AT UR HOUSE)

The day I get 100 notes on any of my fics is the day I start writing kendratello 🥵🤤😩 scenes by the way

JOKIN jokin jokin I’m jokin!

Maybe

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for making my family eat my mother's terrible cooking?

I (32NB) currently live with my father (70M), mother (68F), and brother (36M). My brother is disabled and requires at least one full time caretaker. Up until recently, this was me. First, my mom and I were sharing the duty, but then my grandmother got sick and my mom left, leaving me working, going to school, and taking care of the house and my brother by myself most of the time. It's worth noting I'm also disabled (physically and mentally), I just lived on my own from 16-27 so I got used to dealing.

Now my father has moved in with us and is taking care of my brother which is a huge relief. My grandmother died and my mother is back and helping as well! As a result, and out of the severe damage all the previous work did to me physically and mentally, I have removed myself ENTIRELY from caretaking from my brother. I don't do SHIT anymore. I will occasionally make him a sandwich or something if I feel up to it. So this is where the assholery might come in.

My mom… cannot cook. She is terrible. I mean it. Whatever you're imagining: worse. I regularly impress one of my friends (just the one, I don't want to bad mouth her excessively) with tales of her horrifying abominations. Yesterday she cooked tilapia in MELTED. LIME. POPSICLES. because she thought it would give it a citrus flavor. She did not use other seasoning (no not even salt). We have lime and lemon juice in the fridge!!!

I used to cook at least half of the meals, and often would help mom with dinner when it wasn't something boxed, to avoid such… creativity (and because half the time when she cooked I couldn't stomach it). But now due to health issues (caused by illness caused by overworking), I'm buying my own food and cooking all my own meals regardless, so I have fully stopped cooking for the family because I can't eat what they eat and we can't afford to all eat what I eat. I am subjecting my poor family to lime popsicle tilapia. We are wasting food because she ruins it and then no one will eat it, at a time when eggs are like $8 a dozen. My dad cooks when mom's not here (he's GOOD) but when she is, he lets her.

AITA? Should I bite the bullet and start cooking for everyone again?

What are these acronyms?

[uncharismatic-fauna]

A Shoo-in Shoebill Stork

The shoebill stork, also known as the whalebill stork or Balaeniceps rex is in fact not a stork at all, but a long-legged wading bird belonging to the family Pelecaniformes. This species can be found in the central African tropics, from southern Sudan to northern Tanzania. Within this range, they mainly inhabit freshwater swamps and dense marshes, particularly those with deep water large reed beds.

Balaeniceps rex is often referred to as a dinosaur among birds due to its fearsome appearance. The average individual stands 1.1-1.4 m (3.6-4.5 ft) tall and has a wingspan of 2.3 to 2.6 m (7.5 to 8.5 in). However, adults are quite light, weighing only 4 to 7 kg (8.8 to 15.4 lb). Males tend to be larger than females, but otherwise the two sexes look identical. Adults have dark grey plumage with a lighter belly and darker wings. Their most striking feature is their beak, which is extremely large and can be said to resemble a wooden show (hence the name).

The shoebill's beak is very useful for catching its primary prey: fish. B. rex consumes a variety of species, including lungfish, catfish, and tilapia, as well as non-fish items like water snakes, frogs, turtles, mollusks, and even young crocodiles. Shoebills typically stalk their prey, or stand perfectly still and wait for their prey to come to them, before quickly snatching it up and decapitating it with the sharp edges of their beaks. Because of their large size and strong bills, adults are seldom prey for other animals, and they defend their nests fiercely from predators like snakes and other birds.

Outside of the breeding season-- and even during it-- shoebills are extremely territorial. Not only do they chase potential predators away from their nests, both males and females will fiercely defend their territory from other shoebills.

Breeding begins in the dry season, typically in in May, and lasts until about October. Once a male and female form a pair, they remain together for the duration of the mating season. They build a nest from floating vegetation, and 1-3 eggs are cared for by both parents; in addition to being incubated for warmth, one parent may also occasionally pour a beak-full of water over the eggs to keep them cool during the hot summer day. The eggs hatch about 30 days after being laid, and young are fed continuously-- though usually only one chick survives to adulthood. At 125 days old they become fully independent and leave to establish their own territories. The average individual can live up to 35 years in the wild.

Conservation status: The IUCN lists the whalebill stork as Vulnerable. Current wild population estimates sit at about 5,000-8,000 individuals. Primary threats include poaching for the zoo trade and consumption, habitat destruction, and pollution.

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Photos

Santiago Caballero Carrera

George Amato

Mana Meadows

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Andrew | In-Laws To Be | Romantic

Your sweet and shy nature keeps you from wearing your heart on your sleeve. Your older sister Eden decides to help you out a little.

Requested by Louisa

There is a certain nip in the winter air that doesn’t often occur in the usually warm lands of Judea, so you make sure to dig out the woollen cloak from your wardrobe before heading out to the market in order to prepare for Shabbat. Armed with a large bag that fits around your shoulder as well as Eden’s lengthy shopping list, you make your way to the business of Capernaum, where dozens of people are traversing the wares on display, merchants yelling their prices and discounts alike. 

You hug your cloak a little tighter around your shoulders as you walk past the stalls, making sure to only purchase the items Eden had requested no matter how tempting some of the sweeter goods seem to be, even if they are practically calling out your name. You eye a specific box of honey buns as you browse the baker’s wares, and it must have been so obvious that you were eyeing them that the merchant oddly frowns at you when you only ask for some yeast and flour. 

Up next are the wine skins — three of them this time, due to the size of the company — which proves less difficult to resist. The leather containers of wine still prove quite the weight inside your bag. Perhaps you should have waited to get these for last, but the woman behind the stall has already pocketed your money.

Afterwards, you find the stand selling fish. Ever since Simon and Andrew left the fishing industry to pursue the Messiah instead, you have been actually having to buy it from other merchants instead of getting a few of them for free, fresh from the Sea of Galilee after a good night on the water. Not that you mind it. You’d gladly buy all the fish in the world with your own money now that they are followers of Jesus Himself. 

Your mind lingers on Andrew for a bit and you can’t help a smile from forming over your lips. He’s going to attend the celebration as well and frankly, you can hardly wait to see him. Whereas you’d often see the younger sibling of your brother-in-law every other day when they were still fishermen, you now consider yourself lucky if you get to briefly pass by him about four, five times a month. To your relief, you still have your sister Eden to keep your mind occupied with your other duties. Keeping yourself busy by helping her out around the house and making a living out of sewing clothes, you remain as productive as you can be.

It feels almost inappropriate to want to doll up a little for tonight. You are positively thrilled to get to speak to Andrew again, your tummy already swirling with butterflies at the notion. For a moment, you picture yourself more confident than you are, wearing something nicer than usual, making Andrew do a double take… Not that you expect him to. Whereas Eden is more easy-going, you’re usually the more quiet type, hanging around in the background. It is a miracle if you even dare to say a few words to the curly-haired man in question. And honestly, perhaps that Shabbat itself is not the best moment to try and impress someone. 

“—Did you hear what I said, miss?” 

The merchant behind the fish stall pulls you from your own mind by giving you a strange look. You rapidly blink and clear your throat. “Uh, I’m sorry, I was lost in thought for a moment.” 

The woman huffs. “I asked if I could help you with something. You’ve been staring at my fish for a good minute now.”  

You flush a little. “Ah. Yes, I… Uh, I’d like some… Some tilapia.” 

“How much?” 

You count in your head and on your fingers for a moment. “Seven… Seven will work.” 

The merchant packs up your order whilst you get the right amount of money from your satchel. It concludes your shopping trip as you tuck the fish into your bag. “Shabbat shalom.” you tell her, and she nods, forcing a smile on her lips. “Shabbat shalom.” 

Knowing Capernaum like the back of your hand — you’ve grown up in the village after all — you head back to the house of Simon and Eden, where your older sister is waiting for you to arrive with all the fresh produce she had asked you to bring. You step over the threshold to find Eden laying the table, the vegetables already cut and drizzled with lemon to keep them fresh. She smiles and brushes over quickly to help you out with the heavy bag. 

“Ah, (Y/n), you’re the best!” You hand her the satchel of money you had received from her and she puts it aside. You instantly start rummaging around your recently acquired groceries to take out the fish lest they start leaking liquid — you’ve learnt that the hard way — as well as the wine for your sister to put into a cool room. 

“Let me prepare the fish,” Eden suggests, knowing that you aren’t necessarily fond of the slippery task of cleaning them and removing the bones. Being a fisherman’s wife, your older sister has become quite skilled at turning them into tasty fillets, so you don’t complain when you are thus presented with the job to prepare the bread dough instead. 

Your challah is often favoured whenever you’re around at Shabbat dinners. Eden says you’ve got magic hands which causes the dough to proof to perfection, but you are personally more convinced it’s the little dash of cinnamon you sneak into there for a hint of sweetness; the spice itself is far from sweet but it still works, somehow. You know the recipe by heart, adding the right amounts of water and flour to the countertop to knead together into a stretchy mass between your hands. With a little oil, a pinch of salt as well as a bit of yeast, the dough is done for its first rising process by the time Eden has cleaned the third fish.

Upon cleaning your hands and covering the bread dough, you assist Eden by grilling the fish for her over the fire in her kitchen. Under the pleasant smell of fresh food, you have a moment to yourselves before the business of the evening begins.

“So, who will be joining us again?” you ask your sister, who looks at you for a second before turning back to her fourth fish to prepare. 

“Simon, of course, and Jesus, Mary, Thaddeus and Andrew.” On the last name, you barely manage to keep your face under control, feeling your face heat up. Still, you manage to not let Eden catch you blushing. You flip the fish being heated on the stone one last time before checking on your bread, finding that it needs a little more time to rise.

“You know,” Eden pipes up all of a sudden, as if it is written all over your face, “You are still unmarried.” 

Your eyes widen as you clear your throat. “That’s correct, thank you for the reminder.” 

Eden breathes something akin to amusement. “That’s not what I tried to say. What I mean is that I’m curious to see if there is anyone of Jesus’ followers whom you’d like as a potential future husband.”

Had she seen you flush anyways? Your heart rears inside your chest as you feel like a child caught doing something they weren’t allowed to. The expression on your face is so mortified that your sister gives you a reassuring look and exhales.

“There’s no rush, really. But I mean, we’ve met a lot of nice bachelors whom I wouldn’t mind as my brother-in-law. Take Thaddeus, for example, he’s really sweet. I think Little James would also be a good match for you, since you both have a soft and gentle nature.” 

Your throat runs dry — she hasn’t realised that you’d rather be with someone who is already her brother in law — and you take moment to collect your thoughts. “Thad or Little James?” you squeak, thrown off-guard by her sudden suggestions. Eden nods, smiling softly at your shy response. “I… I don’t know, Eden. Sure, they’re sweet and all, but I’m not sure if they’d be meant for me.” 

“Well, then I’m not really sure who would be a good fit for you.” 

You avert your gaze, feeling a little embarrassed that the thought hasn’t even crossed her mind. Is she right? Would Andrew not be a good match? 

“Maybe Philip?” she then recommends, “Yeah, he’s a Godly man, too. Someone who would be really gentle for you. He is the kind of man you’d like to come home to, I’m sure.” 

“Look, Eden, I…” You let out a slightly antsy sound, “I just don’t think that… That Philip would like me in that way, and honestly I wouldn’t really care, because as kind and wise as he may be, I just see him as a very dear friend.” 

Eden hums and gives you a curious look. “There is something on your mind.” she states. “I can see it in your eyes. Do you have a suggestion for any eligible bachelors around, (Y/n)? Do you have your eye on someone? Oh no, don’t think I don’t see that blush!” You gasp and quickly pad your cheeks to feel them hot to the touch, “You’ve got a crush, don’t you?” 

Letting out a shaky breath of defeat, you give the fish one last flip before they are all ready to go. 

“Come on, who is it? You’re my sister, you can tell me!” 

She almost girlishly grabs your arm, urging you on to reveal your secret. 

You laugh lightly, a little shyly, tucking some loose hair back under your veil. “I don’t think I should, I know he wouldn’t feel the same, and—” 

“Please, (Y/n), maybe I can help! And I’m sure Simon and Andrew can put in a good word for you.” 

Your face twists into uncertainty. “Well, look… That might be kind of the issue.” 

Eden frowns a bit. “What do you mean?” 

“Ah… The person I would potentially really like as my husband is… Hm…” you hardly dare to let the name cross your lips, knowing that she’d be the first one to ever know about your longtime crush on the curly-haired fisherman in question, “…Andrew.” 

Her mouth falls open as she gawks at you, nearly dropping her knife to the ground. Eden puts it on the counter quickly and steps closer to you. “Really? Andrew? Are you serious, (Y/n)?” You nod and she lets out a breath of disbelief. “For how long? I never knew that you—” 

“—Ever since our early teens.” 

The revelation hits her hard as she puts a hand on her chest, letting out a small laugh of slight shock. “How did I never… Never find out that you… For so long? And you never even considered telling me? Or asking me about it? I could have gotten Simon to urge him in your direction, you know, I could have helped out and—” 

“—Its’ fine, Eden.” you whisper, “It’s alright. I… I’ve been in love with him for quite some time, and if he felt the same I feel like he would have asked by now.” 

“(Y/n)…” Eden reassures, “You shouldn’t doubt yourself so much. You see, I bet that Andrew would be thrilled to know that a woman as sweet and kind as you is into him. I think you and him would be a very good match, I just… I didn’t necessarily expect it to happen, you know? I never would have guessed that you were sweet on him, so I never suggested it. After all, we’ve all practically grown up together, have been friends for so long. It’s the same reason I didn’t suggest John, by the way. It just didn’t cross my mind in the first place.”

“Well, you were acquainted with Simon too long before you liked him in that way, no? And yet, you married him.” 

Eden thinks for a moment. “I… Guess there is no arguing that.” she muses. “But would you like a word of advice, (Y/n)?” 

You perk up your head in question. “Yes?” 

“They will be here in a few hours. And… Once they are here, go talk to him. Trust me. Just be yourself, show him you are still that same sweet, kind girl from back in the day and interested to converse with him. If he doesn’t see you for what you are worth, he isn’t deserving of you, anyways.” 

“Talk to him? But I can’t— What could I talk about, then? I’m just going to make a fool of myself, be a stuttering mess, stumble over my words—” 

“—(Y/n). Don’t be so hard on yourself. You are a beautiful, wonderful woman who loves God. You are one of the most honest, genuine people I know. He’d be lucky to have you by his side, and who knows, you might be pleasantly surprised on what he feels for you.” 

You purse your lips, fiddling with your sleeve for a moment as you contemplate her words. 

“Give it some thought, okay? I’m sure that Andrew would love to speak to you more often, and perhaps something beautiful will bloom from it.” 

As you walk over to the counter again to continue on the challah, you ponder the words of your sister. 

“I’ll think about it.” you tell her. 

Eden smiles.  

“Good. You’ve got until tonight.” 

—

The home of Simon and Eden is a little cramped by the time all the invitees have showed up, but it doesn’t deter you nor your sister from serving the guests. You’ve been nervous ever since Andrew has crossed the threshold. In the end, you had decided to just wear what you were already wearing, not fond on drawing attention to yourself to begin with. 

You place a cup of wine in front of Jesus, Who kindly smiles at you. “Thank you, (Y/n). Are you alright? You look a little flushed.” 

Since you don’t want to lie to Jesus, you leave the answer in the middle. “I’ll be fine.” you mutter, which isn’t entirely untrue. Regardless of how the evening goes, you will be just that— fine. Your gaze flickers to the curly-haired former fisherman currently in conversation with Thaddeus. Jesus hums as He follows your eyes, smiling a little. 

“You know, I didn’t take that other seat next to Andrew for a reason. Eden was very adamant about it.” 

You gulp — look back at Eden, who is speaking to Simon at the kitchen counter — then back at Jesus.

“Do you know what she means by that?” You are fully aware that Jesus knows exactly what this is about.

“I… Have an inkling.” 

“An inkling?” Jesus smirks and nods towards the empty seat. “Go. Eden will take over the hosting duties for a moment, and if she needs an extra pair of hands, she knows where to find Me.” 

Who are you to say no to Jesus’ instructions? Eden likely told Him on purpose. You find her gaze across the table whilst you take off your apron, and she winks. As you sit down next to Andrew with bucking knees, he looks up with a kind, almost surprised smile.

“Oh, shalom (Y/n)! How nice to see you again. I have to compliment you on your challah once again. I know I keep saying it, but wow, you never cease to amaze me.” Andrew’s eyes widen as he sees the blush on your face, then realises how he worded his praise, “I—I mean with your bread— Of—Of course you are a great person, too. I— I think— I think you’re great.” 

You smile softly at him, butterflies raging around in your stomach as you gaze upon his genuine expression. “Thank you for your sweet words, Andrew.” 

He gives you an almost giddy look before he snaps out of it, clearing his throat.

“Would you like a drink? Bread? Grapes?” 

“Please.” you softly murmur. He gives you a sweet look.

As he reaches for said items of food scattered around the table, Simon leans towards his wife, crossing his arms over his chest. “What’s up with them, huh?” 

“They’re totally into each other.” Eden whispers back. 

Simon nearly chokes on his own saliva. “What? (Y/n) is into Andrew? How is it, that I only find this out now? Did you know about this? For how long has this been going on?” 

“I found out this afternoon while we were preparing Shabbat dinner. It turns out that she has managed to keep her feelings hidden for over a decade.” 

“Over a decade? Are you telling me that I could have been saved from Andrew talking my ear off by pining over her constantly for a whole decade? (Y/n) this, (Y/n) that… I mean, I wouldn’t mind her as my sister-in-law, she’s a very nice person and I think they’d be a good match. But he could have been with her all this time and still he decided to constantly speak to me about it.” 

Eden hums and raises an eyebrow at him, turning to the counter to get the guests a refill of wine. 

“She’s already you sister-in-law, Simon.” she reminds him.

Simon frowns at that, thinking for a moment before his face falls into realisation. “Oh, yeah, that’s true… Anyways, let’s hope and pray that they will finally set things in motion now. It’s been ten long years overdue.” 

“I hope so, too.” Eden replies.

She smiles, pivots to the dinner table with a certain flair, and momentarily meets Jesus’ gaze. He nods towards you and Andrew, then winks at her. She returns it before tending to her guests again.

[uovoc]

2024 Fish in review

Grass carp - mushy and tastes like dirt

Rockfish - excellent texture and mild flavor. Favorite so far.

Tilapia -mushy with nothing to add in terms of flavor

Pompano - Firm, keeps its shape, and conducive to pan frying. Generous fat deposits that render nicely into a tasty layer of grease. What tilapia wishes it could be.

Flounder - tilapia again.

Bighead carp - "Maybe not all carp are bad," I thought. Maybe not all carp are bad, but at least two kinds of carp are bad, and I have no desire to try a third.

Sardine - I wouldn't mind the strong fishy taste if it wasn't for the subpar texture and aggravating bones. Composted the rest.

Salmon - I respect it as the PNW's flagship fish but fresh salmon is just ok.

Rainbow trout - I ate too many trout in 2022 and am now in trout recovery, indefinitely.

Shad - see carp, with added aggravating bones.

Branzino - decent. Mild.

Halibut - mild with a meaty texture. Not worth the price, though.

Striped bass - similar to halibut, but cheaper. Pretty good.

Ocean perch - like rockfish. Good.

Turbot - the classic fishstick fish, but I think the one I bought wasn't very fresh. Which is probably why it was on sale

Beltfish - very good when I had it at a Korean restaurant. I've also had mediocre beltfish at a potluck. I'm willing to give DIY beltfish a shot in 2025.

Mackerel - Greasy and meaty in all the right ways. Grilled and deep fried were both great. Pan cooked was meh.

[iwillnotdieamonster]

"This is a beautiful letter from Fiona Apple explaining to her fans why she must postpone a concert date. I am impressed at the way she was instantly able to make the decision to choose love over her career. Indeed, the world needs more of this.

It's 6pm on Friday, and I'm writing to a few thousand friends I have not met yet. I'm writing to ask them to change our plans and meet a little while later.

Here's the thing.

I have a dog, Janet, and she's been ill for about 2 years now, as a tumor has been idling in her chest, growing ever so slowly. She's almost 14 years old now. I got her when she was 4 months old. I was 21 then — an adult, officially — and she was my kid.

She is a pitbull, and was found in Echo Park, with a rope around her neck, and bites all over her ears and face.

She was the one the dogfighters use to puff up the confidence of the contenders.

She's almost 14 and I've never seen her start a fight, or bite, or even growl, so I can understand why they chose her for that awful role. She's a pacifist.

Janet has been the most consistent relationship of my adult life, and that is just a fact. We've lived in numerous houses, and joined a few makeshift families, but it's always really been just the two of us.

She slept in bed with me, her head on the pillow, and she accepted my hysterical, tearful face into her chest, with her paws around me, every time I was heartbroken, or spirit-broken, or just lost, and as years went by, she let me take the role of her child, as I fell asleep, with her chin resting above my head.

She was under the piano when I wrote songs, barked any time I tried to record anything, and she was in the studio with me, all the time we recorded the last album.

The last time I came back from tour, she was spry as ever, and she's used to me being gone for a few weeks, every 6 or 7 years.

She has Addison's Disease, which makes it more dangerous for her to travel, since she needs regular injections of Cortisol, because she reacts to stress and excitement without the physiological tools which keep most of us from literally panicking to death.

Despite all this, she's effortlessly joyful & playful, and only stopped acting like a puppy about 3 years ago. She is my best friend, and my mother, and my daughter, my benefactor, and she's the one who taught me what love is.

I can't come to South America. Not now. When I got back from the last leg of the US tour, there was a big, big difference.

She doesn't even want to go for walks anymore.

I know that she's not sad about aging or dying. Animals have a survival instinct, but a sense of mortality and vanity, they do not. That's why they are so much more present than people.

But I know she is coming close to the time where she will stop being a dog, and start instead to be part of everything. She'll be in the wind, and in the soil, and the snow, and in me, wherever I go.

I just can't leave her now, please understand. If I go away again, I'm afraid she'll die and I won't have the honor of singing her to sleep, of escorting her out.

Sometimes it takes me 20 minutes just to decide what socks to wear to bed.

But this decision is instant.

These are the choices we make, which define us. I will not be the woman who puts her career ahead of love & friendship.

I am the woman who stays home, baking Tilapia for my dearest, oldest friend. And helps her be comfortable & comforted & safe & important.

Many of us these days, we dread the death of a loved one. It is the ugly truth of Life that keeps us feeling terrified & alone. I wish we could also appreciate the time that lies right beside the end of time. I know that I will feel the most overwhelming knowledge of her, and of her life and of my love for her, in the last moments.

I need to do my damnedest, to be there for that.

Because it will be the most beautiful, the most intense, the most enriching experience of life I've ever known.

When she dies.

So I am staying home, and I am listening to her snore and wheeze, and I am revelling in the swampiest, most awful breath that ever emanated from an angel. And I'm asking for your blessing.

I'll be seeing you.

Love,

Fiona"

Credit goes to the respective owners.

[acescorazon]

Changes

Chapter: 19

Title: Red Rubies and Blue Hyacinths

Rating: M

Warnings: Language.

Word Count: 4936

Chapter Excerpt:

All the good behavior (and gifts) over the course of days and weeks from Crocodile and Mihawk isn't enough for Buggy to act all buddy-buddy with the two, but he finds himself relaxing ever so slightly in their presence now and again. 

On the night before they’re expected to leave for Prickly Pear Island, Buggy finds himself staring down at a plate of Tilapia and roasted potatoes, wishing it were something a little different. His men brought plenty of food back to the island, but they’re trying to save all the good stuff for later. The thought process is a rational one, but Buggy could go for something like beef or even lamb right now.  

Just as he has that thought, he hears a voice call out to him from outside his tent. “You inside, Buggy?”

|Ch1|Ch2|Ch3|Ch4|Ch5|Ch6|Ch7|Ch8|Ch9|Ch10|Ch11|Ch12||Ch13||Ch14||Ch15||Ch16||Ch17||Ch18||

Mihawk’s hands are surprisingly gentle as he tends to Buggy’s wounds, as is his voice. Whenever Buggy flinches or hisses in pain, Mihawk offers him a quiet apology before he resumes what he’s doing. It feels so surreal being in this position and having Mihawk taking care of him instead of beating him senseless. 

When did things change?

To tell the truth, the silence in the room makes Buggy feel a little awkward, even though the other two might find it peaceful right now. “So… Did you want to have a meeting or whatever, Hawkeye?” Buggy asks. It’s a little late for a meeting, but he’ll sit through one if it makes things feel a little less weird.

“No, I just wanted to patch two very foolish men up.” Mihawk replies, “And I believed it would be best to do that in the meeting room and away from any prying eyes. The men on this island are rather fond of gossip.” Buggy would be lying if he said that there wasn’t some truth behind Mihawk’s statement, so he remains quiet. 

Mihawk finishes treating Buggy’s injuries around the same time that Crocodile decides to step outside to smoke and get some fresh air. It’s then that Mihawk takes Buggy’s hand and squeezes it. Buggy isn’t sure how to react to Mihawk’s gentle touch. He isn’t sure how to react to any of this actually. Should he yank his hand away, or just pretend that this isn’t happening? The answer to his question eludes him as always. 

“If you wanted to fight someone, you could have just fought me.” Mihawk murmurs. 

Somehow, Buggy doesn’t think that fighting Mihawk would be the same as fighting Crocodile. He gets the feeling that Mihawk would go easy on him and that they would have a very one-sided fight, whilst Crocodile wanted a legitimate fight and put some actual effort into fighting Buggy. Though, it’s still weird that Buggy actually wanted a real fight and not a staged one or to just take all his anger out on Mihawk. “I don’t want to fight you,” Buggy admits. “I don’t want to fight you or hurt you or do anything like that.” 

He still doesn’t understand why, but the kind of revenge Mihawk’s offering just isn’t something he’s interested in. There’s something almost pathetic about the thought of him beating down a completely defenseless Mihawk who wants nothing but redemption and punishment and will do anything to get it. Maybe that’s it: Crocodile wanted Buggy to settle a score, Mihawk wanted Buggy to punish him. There’s a small difference between the situations that made one option seem more appealing than the other but he can’t tell what it is. 

“But you’ll go and fight Crocodile immediately after leaving my quarters?” Yeah, well… That wasn’t exactly planned. “I don’t understand. I was willing to… I was willing to let you get the revenge you so desperately wanted.”

“Yeah, but…” Buggy trails off as he rubs the back of his neck, “I don’t know, man. I just didn’t want to hurt you like that.” 

“I don’t understand.” Mihawk repeats, then gives Buggy’s hand another squeeze. “What am I doing wrong?” He asks. It’s not that Mihawk’s doing anything wrong, it’s just…

Fuck, Buggy doesn’t know why the situation is so complicated either. Things should be black and white, shouldn’t they? Mihawk’s hurt Buggy, and now he’s willing to serve Buggy his revenge on a silver platter, so Buggy should get said revenge, but… 

Buggy shrugs, “You’re not doing anything wrong, I just don’t want to take my frustration out on you like that.” He can tell that his answer only confuses Mihawk more though, but he’s still unsure how to even respond to Mihawk’s question in general.

Mihawk shakes his head, “How do I earn your forgiveness then? If you won’t take your frustrations out on me or fight me, or even accept all of my apologies, then what do I do? I thought that I did everything right. I…I apologized… I admitted my faults and changed my behavior.” he searches Buggy’s eyes for an answer that not even Buggy himself has, “

I’ve done nothing but try to be more kind and gentle… I’m utterly baffled. What do I have to do to earn your forgiveness? What do I have to do to show that this change in my behavior is nothing but genuine and that I care?!” he asks. 

“I…”

“Please, just tell me what I have to do because I'm driving myself mad trying to figure out how to make things right. Do I have to shower you with material goods?” No, that’s not…” Do I have to get on my knees and beg for forgiveness?” No, that won’t…” Do you want me to write a 1000-page letter expressing how remorseful I am?” Now, that’s just a little silly. 

Mihawk cups the side of Buggy’s face, and Buggy’s a little startled, but he doesn’t pull away from Mihawk, “What do I have to do? Do you just want me to pack up my things and never show my face again? Just tell me what I have to do and I’ll do it, even if I don’t want to.”

I don’t know anymore. 

“I–” Just as Buggy is about to answer, Crocodile comes back in and sees them. He feels like he’s just been caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing, and he quickly pulls back from Mihawk’s touch. “I should really go lie down and rest,” He mutters as he gets up from his seat and rushes past Crocodile, who gives him a strange look, one that Buggy doesn’t even want to make sense of right now.

After a long, eventful evening, Buggy finally makes it to his room and desperately tries to get his thoughts and feelings straight for once. His head hurts and now that most of his excitement has died down, his brain is slowly returning to its chaotic state from earlier. A lot happened today. A lot has been happening in general, and he's never stopped to think about how he feels about everything. Truth be told, Buggy has so many confusing emotions, and it seems like they change like days on a calendar. 

So much has changed right under Buggy’s nose, but he feels like he’s been too caught up in his own fears and hatred to notice said changes. So many things have been said to him over the last few weeks, but he hasn’t listened to a single word uttered to him because he didn’t want to hear what was being said. 

There have been little things shown to Buggy here and there as well, but Buggy turned a blind eye to anything and everything that he didn’t want to see. Buggy heard what he wanted to hear, saw what he wanted to see, and believed what he wanted to believe.  

Buggy has a seat on the edge of his bed and buries his face in his hands. What kind of mess did he get himself into? Just how much did he disconnect from reality? How long was he hiding in some tiny world that was made of nothing but painful memories?

Again, he asks, when did everything change?

There’s everything that’s going on with Mihawk, and It’s gotten to the point that Hawkeye is so desperate to be forgiven that he’s quite literally willing to do anything for said forgiveness. But how did things get to that point? How long has he been seeking his forgiveness?

Buggy still isn’t entirely sure if one person can change so much in such a short span of time. He told himself over and over again that there’s no way that Mihawk could ever change or be remorseful. He told himself that Mihawk could never truly care about him. He convinced himself that he would never in a million years forgive Mihawk and that he would just try and be friendly around him to avoid an ass beating. He was so willing to die on that hill, but now… 

He closes his eyes and right away he’s transported back to Mihawk’s room, and Mihawk’s confession from earlier begins to play in his head on repeat. He doesn’t understand any of Mihawk’s words from earlier, nor does he understand any of Mihawk’s actions either. 

Good grief, how did something like that even happen? How does pure hatred turn into feelings of affection?! Buggy still has so many questions regarding Mihawk and his feelings, but something tells him he shouldn’t look for answers. 

Buggy should be disgusted, though, right? He should be totally disgusted and maybe even offended by Mihawk’s confession, right? This man has been such a jerk to him, and the thought of Mihawk now possibly having romantic feelings for him should make him sick to his stomach, shouldn't it? 

Where's the hate and the disgust that he’s supposed to be feeling right now? He wonders. Oh, this is the absolute worst. He's searching for a logical response to Mihawk's confession that has to lie somewhere within him but he can’t find it. 

The logical response, of course, would be something like anger, pain, disgust, disbelief, and maybe more hatred. He digs and digs, searching for one of those emotions but all he can come up with is confusion mixed with just a hint of embarrassment. He wonders if he's broken, if he's so fucked up that he would actually find something flattering about the idea of Mihawk having feelings for him...But something like that isn’t possible.

 

You literally hate him, stupid. Buggy tells himself, You hate him, and you wish he were out of your life. He knows all that, and yet he didn't hurt Mihawk like he should have. He knows that, and yet he didn't flat out reject Mihawk. He knows that and yet… when Mihawk offered to disappear from his life completely…. Buggy didn’t jump on the offer.

Then Mihawk had tended to Buggy’s wounds after his fight with Crocodile. He let him touch him, he let him back into his personal space. His touch was so soft and careful, and Buggy didn’t feel hatred or disgust even once during that interaction.

God, what is wrong with Buggy? 

Then there’s Crocodile. It’s funny how both Mihawk and Buggy think that Crocodile is the most consistent (or rather predictable) member of the group. He wants genuine forgiveness too, something that Buggy never imagined would be possible for him to get. However, after tonight, Buggy can’t help but think maybe he should let things go. Just this once, maybe he should forgive the two for all that they’ve done and move on. 

Buggy’s already put his hands on Crocodile and he’s already received multiple apologies from both men. He doesn’t know what more he could ask for, or rather, what more he should ask for. 

It probably isn’t doing him any good to hold onto such deep-seated hatred and the past. Part of Buggy kind of thinks it would be kind of sad if Mihawk and Crocodile could change, but he couldn’t. He’s not sure how they can form a genuine bond with each other, though.

How can Buggy wake up tomorrow morning and not feel some type of negative emotion sooner or later? How does he stop feelings of doubt,  fear, anger, distrust, and hatred from resurfacing? How does he forget all those memories that caused him so much pain? How does he get his thoughts and feelings organized because right now they’re nothing but a jumbled mess and conflict with one another. 

Maybe it’s something he’ll just have to work on. 

…

First thing in the morning, Buggy’s men surround him after he gives a grand speech about Cross Guild’s future plans in the big top and promptly shower him in hugs and praises. He’s such a good leader and father figure that he doesn’t even interrupt any of them while they celebrate his obvious victory over Crocodile.

“Chairman, Chairman! You looked so cool last night while you were fighting Crocodile!” Well… That is true, isn’t it? Buggy’s pretty sure that was his coolest performance since the war, actually.

“Oh, well, I wasn’t really focused on being cool at that moment, you know? I just had to show ol’ Croccy who’s boss.”

The men around him all hum in unison and nod their heads. They really don’t question anything that comes out of his mouth, do they? Good.

“Chairman, you really are the coolest! What did Crocodile even do to deserve your wrath?” What did he do? Oh, he…

“Well, you know, that’s a little private. I don’t want to embarrass Crocodile by telling you guys the full details of our dispute.”

His men nod and hum again, one of them even says: “You know, that’s why I love you, Captain! You’re so kind-hearted and compassionate! And you always put your crew first!” His kindness is his biggest flaw, unfortunately. “You never hold grudges either!” 

Buggy heaves a sigh, “You know, I always try to be the bigger person, and it can be mentally exhausting sometimes. Sometimes I just want to be petty, but I don’t because I know that I'm better than that.”

“Ah, you’re incredible, Captain!”

“You’re a real man’s man, Chairman!”

“You’re the leader of the generation, Captain!”

Sigh. All those things are true, aren’t they? It’s honestly quite exhausting being such a wholesome guy who everyone loves and admires. He’s starting to wish he were a little less popular, especially with his own crew.

“Captain, is it true you almost choked Crocodile out but then Mihawk came along and broke the fight up?!” Did…Did Buggy almost choke Crocodile out?! No, but he’s almost annoyed that he didn’t think about doing just that. Maybe he’s growing soft.

Buggy pauses for a moment and pretends that he’s remembering his fight from last night, “Well, it’s not something I'm particularly proud of–” Buggy begins to reply, however he trails off once he smells cigar smoke. Buggy whips his head to the side and notices Crocodile approaching him. 

Oh, fuck! Did he hear all that?! Please tell me he didn’t. I was just bullshitting! 

Buggy laughs nervously and prays that Crocodile didn’t hear that last question, “No, of course I didn’t do something like that to Crocodile. It wasn’t that kind of fight.” He replies and then laughs nervously again when Crocodile raises an eyebrow at him. 

“Talking shit about me again, Captain Buggy?” Crocodile asks, but instead of sounding angry, he actually sounds rather amused. “I would love to hear what you’re saying about me this time.”

“I’m not… I'm just...”

Crocodile waves his hand dismissively, “Relax. I’m just here to give you your flowers. You dropped them on the ground last night.” he says as he holds out the bouquet in his arms for Buggy to take. Oh, Buggy had forgotten all about those roses.

 

“Chairman, why is Crocodile giving you roses? Is it your birthday?”

“No, The chairman’s birthday is in August, stupid!” 

“Maybe it’s a bribe…” 

“Should I get Captain Buggy flowers too?”

Crocodile grits his teeth as Buggy’s men chatter amongst themselves, “Shouldn’t you all be doing something more productive right now?” He asks, “Don’t worry why I'm giving him roses. Get lost before I gut you a–” He pauses, cutting himself off, “Get back to work.” he orders instead and in a softer tone.

“Yes, Sir…” At least twenty men mutter in unison with their heads lowered in defeat.

After Buggy’s men start to clear out of the area, Crocodile opens up his coat and pulls out a wooden box. “This too,” He mutters as he shoves the box into Buggy’s arm without warning. So aggressive, Buggy thinks, wanting to roll his eyes. 

“What is this?” Buggy asks as he turns the box in his hands and inspects its smooth, polished surface. Treasure? No, it wouldn’t be treasure. A box filled with important documents? No, Crocodile wouldn’t put that in a box and give it to Buggy. Shanks’ ashes?! No…he’s getting his hopes up too much now.

Crocodile clicks his tongue, “Open it.”

“Is it going to explode?”

“You should open it and find out.”

That was not reassuring at all, and Buggy can’t tell if Crocodile is trying to joke with him or not. Part of him is weary, but he decides to trust Crocodile just this once (but only because he knows Crocodile probably wouldn’t stand so closely to a potential bomb.) He glances at him before he pops the latch on the box and opens it.

Inside the box, Buggy finds a variety of expensive looking jewelry waiting for him. There’s mainly watches and rings with dazzling gemstones inside the box, but there are a few necklaces and even a pair of earrings inside too. When Buggy looks a little deeper, he also finds the occasional Ruby or Sapphire as well. “What do you want me to do with this? Get it appraised?” Buggy’s no expert, but he’d say Crocodile has at least a couple of thousand berries worth of jewels in this box alone.  

“No, I'm giving that to you.”

Buggy glances down at the wooden box and then back at Crocodile. Okay, now he’s really confused. “Why are you giving me these?” he asks. This is a really expensive gift. If anything, Buggy should be giving Crocodile something like this and hoping that he’d accept it as payment for part of the debt Buggy has to pay off. 

Crocodile makes a rather frustrated sounding noise, “It’s part of my apology. I realized that I had those lying around and thought they might pair nicely with the flowers. ” That again? Buggy thinks. The flowers and the fight they had was more than enough for Buggy, actually. It might sound weird, but it’s the truth.

“Oh, I can’t take all this.” Buggy tells Crocodile even though it pains him to give up such an expensive gift. His inner pirate thinks he’s absolutely stupid for not taking the box and running with it, but… his stupid goody two shoes side thinks he should tell Crocodile he’s forgiven, and he doesn’t have to do all this.  “It’s cool, man. I don’t n–”

“Keep them.”

“Seriously, we’re all good now. I don’t ne–”

“You hard of hearing?” Crocodile asks with a frown, “I said they’re yours now. I don’t want them, I got more in my tent anyways.” Jeez, just how loaded is this guy? “Now quit trying to argue with me, we have a meeting we need to go to. Come on.”

Buggy wants to be stubborn, but rejecting thousands of berries worth of jewels would be stupidity not stubbornness in his opinion, so he shuts up and follows Crocodile from a distance. He opens the box and looks inside a few more times as he heads to the meeting room, admiring his gift without truly realizing it. Hm, maybe he’ll try on some of the jewelry in the box later. So Sparkly… He thinks with a small smile on his face.

Crocodile and Buggy make it to the meeting room after a short, quiet walk, where Mihawk is already waiting for them. Buggy has a seat in his usual spot with a smile on his face as he sets down the wooden box as well as the bouquet in his hands. It’s then that he notices Mihawk staring at him, “Hey,” He greets.

“So you did want material goods.” Mihawk mutters before he turns and looks away from Buggy. He seems either disinterested or annoyed, but Buggy can’t tell which emotion is which when it comes to Mihawk sometimes.

“No, it’s not like th–” Buggy stops himself. Oh, just let it be. If he wants to get you a gift, let him so he can feel better about himself, a voice suddenly says in Buggy’s head. He heaves a soft sigh and turns his attention to Crocodile who stands in the center of the room as always and begins their meeting. 

…

Now that Cross Guild is on the same page more or less, their plans involving Prickly Pear Island start to fall perfectly in place.  Crocodile says that he wants to head to the island by the end of next month, but the next several days pass without any further incidents as everyone gets ready. Their men return with supplies earlier than expected actually, which not only pleases Crocodile greatly, but also pushes things forward by a few days. 

During this time, Buggy finds himself focusing more on what needs to be done rather than his own feelings, which is fantastic by the way. However, a couple of things happen that linger in the back of Buggy’s mind, even though he doesn’t have time to actually think about them right now.

At some point, during all the chaos that’s going on, Mihawk gives him a bouquet of his own. He gifts Buggy a decent sized bouquet of blue hyacinths, and when Buggy asks what they’re supposed to represent, Mihawk shrugs and simply goes, “I doubt you’d believe me.” before he walks away. It seems like an odd reply at the time, given the fact that Buggy had no reason to doubt the meaning of a flower. 

However, Buggy now thinks that what Mihawk was trying to say is that Buggy wouldn’t believe the feelings and emotions he’s trying to express through his gift. When he asks Alvida about it, She says blue hyacinths mean something like sincerity and loyalty, but she wasn’t sure and that Buggy should just buy a book on flowers at this point.

Sincerity and loyalty? There’s a lot to unpack from those two words alone, and part of Buggy has been dying to go and see how others interpret the flower. However, he’s afraid that some meanings and interpretations might be too intimate for him to handle , so he just leaves it be. 

Mihawk’s bouquet also sets off a chain of events that Buggy should have seen coming in hindsight. His men end up seeing both Crocodile and Mihawk giving him flowers and instead of questioning the reasoning behind those gifts, they follow suit, and soon Buggy’s entire room is filled with flowers from his men. 

Buggy doesn’t even like flowers! 

What he does like, though, is the gifts that Crocodile continues to send to him almost every day even though Buggy’s said he’s given him more than enough. Buggy’s not sure if Crocodile is sending someone out to buy things, if he’s having things delivered, or if he just has extremely expensive valuables lying around, but Buggy finds himself receiving gifts he couldn’t even dream of.  Somewhere along the line, Crocodile must have realized that Buggy likes shiny and valuable things because he often has Daz give him more jewelry. However, Crocodile has also given Buggy a few wine baskets, more flowers, a couple of treasure maps, and even a new suit. (Buggy doesn’t wear suits, though.) 

Buggy didn’t think his forgiveness could be bought that easily, but perhaps he was underestimating his own greed. With each new gift, Buggy finds himself warming up to Crocodile little by little, and occasionally Buggy finds himself disappointed when Crocodile doesn’t give him something nice for the day.

At this point, Buggy thinks that Crocodile might just be giving him gifts out of guilt - if that’s even an emotion Crocodile can even feel - but he has no plans on stopping him anytime soon. He’ll say: ‘Oh, you don’t have to keep giving me gifts. I already forgave you,” But he won’t put much effort into rejecting the gifts he receives because he likes free shit.

All the good behavior (and gifts) over the course of days and weeks from Crocodile and Mihawk isn’t enough for Buggy to act all buddy-buddy with the two, but he finds himself relaxing ever so slightly in their presence now and again. 

On the night before they’re expected to leave for Prickly Pear Island, Buggy finds himself staring down at a plate of Tilapia and roasted potatoes, wishing it were something a little different. His men brought plenty of food back to the island, but they’re trying to save all the good stuff for later. The thought process is a rational one, but Buggy could go for something like beef or even lamb right now.  

Just as he has that thought, he hears a voice call out to him from outside his tent. “You inside, Buggy?” Oh! Is Crocodile here to give me another gift?! Buggy actually finds himself wondering. He could go for another one of those wine baskets with the fancy snacks in them right now.

“Yeah, give me a second.” Buggy replies as he gets up from the couch and heads outside. He finds Crocodile waiting outside with a plate of steak and green beans. Where the fuck did he get that?! Buggy thinks. Why does Crocodile get to eat steak while Buggy has to eat tilapia?!

Buggy almost begins to feel jealous until the gears in his brain start turning. Wait, what if he’s bringing me dinner as a gift tonight?!  Oh, god, if that steak is for Buggy, then Buggy really will forget all about their troubled past. “Is…Is that for me?!” He asks. 

Crocodile looks down at the plate and then back at Buggy, “Nah. Actually I wanted to see if you would give this to the cat. It seems scared of me.” 

“The cat?” Buggy asks, confused.  

“Yeah. The big one.”

Buggy only grows more confused by Crocodile’s simple yet cryptic words. “Are you talking about Richie…?” Buggy asks since Richie is the only feline he can think of that might be on the island. 

“Yeah, yeah. That one. The fat lion. Give him this.”

He wants Buggy to give Richie a whole steak?! Buggy opens and closes his mouth a few times as he looks at Crocodile and tries to formulate a response. Hey, hey, Buggy loves Richie as much as the next guy, but does he really deserve a plate of steak while everyone else is eating cheap fish?! “You’re serious…?”

Crocodile grunts in response, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?.” He asks, and there’s not even a hint of sarcasm behind his words. “I like him.” He confesses. Oh, do you? Buggy thinks, somewhat annoyed. Of course, the only thing Crocodile actually likes about the island is their resident lion. Honestly, why isn’t Buggy surprised at this point?

Buggy begrudgingly agrees to give Richie the damn steak that has him drooling, but he doesn’t like the idea one bit. Honestly, that cat is fat enough… Buggy thinks as he leaves the dinner he’s uninterested in behind and goes to search for Richie instead. Maybe we can share this…

He thinks, and as he walks, he hears heavy footsteps behind him and realizes that Crocodile is following him. What? Think I'm going to hog it all for myself? Of course, He doesn’t bother questioning Crocodile though. 

Within a few minutes, he finds Richie on his own, undoubtedly prowling the island to see if he can get his greedy little paws on someone’s leftovers. That or he’s looking for Mohji, but it’s more likely that Richie just wants to eat more than to find his beloved owner.

Part of Buggy is really hoping that for once Richie won’t want to eat something, but that seems like it’s just wishful thinking on his part. In fact, the moment Buggy presents the plate of steak and green beans to Richie, Richie gobbles everything up in huge mouthfuls. The food is gone within seconds and not even a crumb is left behind… I bet that was tasty, you little hog… He thinks as he stares at Richie with a look of pure jealousy.

Buggy then glances off to the side and notices Crocodile glaring at Richie. Why are you mad? I thought you wanted him to have the damn steak?! Buggy thinks as he watches Crocodile’s reaction. He’s just about to question Crocodile when he notices him shuffling closer to Richie with an outstretched hand. 

What the hell are you doing now?

Crocodile reaches for Richie, but the moment he sees him move, Richie takes off running. Crocodile clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Damn.” He mutters, almost sounding disappointed, “Why won’t that damn cat let me pet it?” He asks, turning his glare towards Buggy and staring him down like he’s the reason that Richie doesn’t want Crocodile to touch him. 

I’d run away too if I saw you moving towards me like that. 

“He’s just skittish around new people.” Buggy lies because he honestly doesn’t want to tell Crocodile that most things with a pulse find him scary.

Crocodile clicks his tongue again. “Whatever. Thanks.” He says before he turns on his heels and heads in the opposite direction. What? That’s really all he wanted?! Buggy is just as confused now as he was about ten minutes ago when Crocodile first showed up at his tent. 

Crocodile actually went through the trouble of having a steak prepared just so he could have Buggy give it to Richie as a sign of Crocodile’s friendship? He did all that just so he could pet a lion, and ended up getting rejected by said lion anyways. 

Buggy scoffs. The things that happen in his life are truly unbelievable sometimes. He shakes his head. A part of him wants to feel annoyed that this whole situation happened in the first place, but another part of him secretly finds the thought of Crocodile doing so much to make friends with a lion rather…

Cute.

A/N: I've wanted to do this thing with Crocodile and Richie for litereally a year now in order to try and humanize Crocodile more and i feel like it might seem out of place here at first but trust me when i say it makes a lot of sense when you think about it.

[dead-but-still-magic]

What foods do you think sound good to make right now?

@redtimbrs2

(Ooc: I had to make a whole new blog cause the original got deleted lol)

Grilled tilapia with veggies and rice with pan seared potato slices garnished with sauted onions with a side of boiled broccoli and carrots. The drink has to be strawberry lemonade or oolong tea and the desert lemon sherbet or vanilla bean with caramel swirled gelato