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swaps55 · 4 years ago

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Fluffy writing prompt for Sam/Kaidan because I know you're going to need one sooner probably rather than later: HOT CHOCOLATE. With whipped cream? Marshmallows? Who makes it better? Straight or doctored? Do they even like chocolate??? (some people don't - I won't claim to even get that!) Is this an easier battle than coffee??? (ok, so not much of a prompt per se but hopefully something that inspires fluffy writing!)

I am combining this with your winter prompt for whipped cream on the nose. :)

Winter Asks

If y’all don’t use this as an excuse to argue your hot chocolate preferences I have failed as a person.

It’s dark when Shepard comes in from the barn, and the wind is stiff enough to yank the door right out of his hands. Kaidan looks up from his spot sprawled lengthwise across the couch, hiding a smile at the insulted expression on Sam’s face as the door slams shut with a whoosh of frigid air.

“Get outflanked by the wind?”

Shepard mutters under his breath as he shucks off his boots and shrugs out of his jacket. Underneath, much to Kaidan’s delight, is the charcoal sweater he’d picked up a week ago. It looks exactly as good as Kaidan hoped it would, in spite of the piece of straw stuck to Sam’s head and the production he makes out of clearing his nose.

“Why the hell do we live in a place where the air hurts my face?” Shepard demands.

Kaidan raises an eyebrow and tucks the fleece blanket draped over him a little tighter to seal out the cold. “Because I don’t think Echo would do well on a frigate.”

Shepard’s mouth curves in a grin, which only completes the sweater look. Hell, if he ever thinks he’s going to talk Kaidan into living somewhere that doesn’t require winter wear he’s sorely mistaken.

Kaidan doesn’t bother concealing his appreciation as Shepard makes his way over to the couch and kneels down to kiss his forehead.

“Hey, you,” Kaidan says, plucking the piece of straw from his head.

Shepard smiles a tender smile, which dissolves into a fiendish grin when he presses the backs of his knuckles to Kaidan’s cheek. Kaidan yelps in dismay and jerks away.

“How are your hands so cold?”

The grin gets bigger and more shit-eating. “Now you know how it feels, Mr. Necromancy hands.”

Kaidan makes a grab for him, but Shepard’s too quick, chuckling as he gets back to his feet. “Don’t go anywhere. Gonna go make something warm. Be right back.”

“Don’t set the kitchen on fire,” Kaidan calls after him.

“Fuck you,” Shepard replies affectionately over his shoulder.

“Warm your hands up first.”

Shepard snorts. Kaidan sets his datapad aside and settles back against the arm of the couch, content to listen to Shepard putter in the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets, shoving something in the microwave. Partly because he sometimes still can’t believe they have this kind of life now, but also because he really can’t put it past Shepard to do structural damage when heating up liquid.

Something does in fact hit the floor with a loud clang, followed by a swift and emphatic, “No fatalities, sitrep normal,” before he continues whatever he’s doing.

Kaidan smiles. So the love of his life can burn water. There had to be a flaw somewhere.

When he returns to the living room, Shepard carries two mugs in his hands and a can of whipped cream tucked under his arm.

“What’s this?” Kaidan asks with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m going native,” Shepard replies. “Aren’t you proud?” He hands Kaidan one of the mugs. Steam wafts from the rim, carrying the scent of something vaguely chocolate. A dollop of whipped cream floats in the center.

“You made hot chocolate?” Kaidan asks with genuine surprise.

“Nothing exploded, either.”

He sniffs it suspiciously. “What did you put in it?”

“Coffee grounds and pepper,” Shepard replies, waiting for Kaidan to rearrange himself to make room for company before sitting down beside him. “What do you think I put in it?”

“I’m just impressed you successfully boiled milk.”

Shepard wrinkles his nose. “Like hell. I just used water.”

Kaidan conceals a look of utter dismay before taking a hesitant sip. God, he probably found an instant pack somewhere instead of cocoa powder, too.

“It’s great,” he lies.

Shepard gives him a bemused look. “Uh huh.”

“Really great.”

“Is that so.”

Kaidan takes another tentative sip. “Mmhmm.”

“That’s not what your face says.”

“Oh really?” Kaidan asks with an arched eyebrow. “What does my face say, then?”

Shepard tilts his head. “It says ‘You did this completely wrong and I’m trying very hard not to show you how much I hate it because I love you and don’t want to hurt your feelings because I know you tried and I don’t want to ruin the moment.’”

Kaidan glares at him. “How do you do that.”

“What?” Shepard asks with a grin. “Was I right?”

“How do you do that?”

Kaidan’s nerves hum as Shepard’s corona kindles faintly. “Space magic,” he replies, before kissing Kaidan on the temple and getting to his feet. He offers his hand, static shock nipping Kaidan’s fingers when he takes it. “Come on then. Show me the right way.”

“I’m not that transparent, you know.”

Shepard chuckles, not releasing his hand. “Maybe not to other people.”

Kaidan smiles, wondering if Shepard senses it without looking. Knowing him, he probably does.

When they reach the kitchen Shepard gestures with one hand before folding his arms across his chest.

“All right. Impress me with your hot chocolate skills.”

Kaidan rocks on his heels, still feeling a little guilt for not just being able to enjoy the gesture for what it was, so Sam opens the fridge and hands him a container of milk.

“You said something about boiled milk? Which sounds disgusting, but I trust you.”

Kaidan takes it from him with a smirk, then digs out a saucepan. “Not quite boiled, but heated, yeah.”

“What else?”

“Cocoa powder.”

Shepard picks up a packet of instant mix that’s still out on the counter and waves it.

Kaidan shakes his head, chuckling. “No. Real cocoa powder. I have a stash in the pantry. I also need chocolate chips, sugar, and vanilla extract.”

“It’s hot chocolate. Why would you put vanilla in it?”

“It balances the chocolate.”

“This is already too complicated.”

Kaidan kisses him on the cheek on his way to the sugar canister. “Some things are worth a little patience.”

Shepard raises an eyebrow. “Are you insinuating something?”

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uh huh.”

As Kaidan starts heating milk on the stove Shepard comes up behind him, arms circling his waist. A slow smile spreads across Kaidan’s face as Shepard plants soft kisses against up and down his throat. Kaidan tips his chin to give him better access.

“Something other than hot chocolate catch your eye?” he asks.

“So I like watching you cook. Or…brew. Or whatever. What do you want from me?”

Kaidan leans back into his chest. “More of exactly what you’re doing sounds nice.”

Shepard’s voice rumbles appreciatively in his ear, sending goosebumps down Kaidan’s arm.

The milk boils over. Kaidan swears under his breath as Shepard laughs and gets a rag. Kaidan dumps the remnants in the sink and starts again, though Shepard does his damndest to derail his efforts a second time. It’s only determination and spite that keeps his concentration on the pot this time, and he adds the cocoa powder, sugar and a dash of vanilla like someone who knows what they’re doing.

“Smells good,” Shepard mumbles, still working on Kaidan’s neck.

“Just wait until I add the peppermint.”

The kissing stops.

“The what now?” Shepard asks, tone guarded.

“Peppermint,” Kaidan repeats, sidestepping to the cabinet where they stash the spices. Kaidan keeps telling himself he’s going to organize them so he can actually find what he’s looking for, but never does. There’s a bottle of peppermint extract in there somewhere. He makes a sound of triumph when he finds it, only to turn around and find Shepard staring at him with narrowed eyes and arms folded across his chest.

“Why the hell would you ruin perfectly good chocolate with peppermint?”

“Why the hell would you pass on an opportunity to put peppermint in chocolate?” Kaidan counters.

“It’s chocolate,” Shepard protests. “Leave it alone.”

Kaidan chuckles. “Since when does the person who would eat plain white rice for the rest of his life have opinions on flavors?”

“Since you tried to put peppermint in my hot chocolate.”

“My mom likes it with cinnamon and cayenne,” Kaidan says, retrieving a clean set of mugs.

Shepard blinks. “Cayenne…pepper?”

“Yep.”

“I married into the weirdest fucking family.”

Kaidan waggles an eyebrow and prepares to pour into two mugs. “Okay, so you’re a chocolate purist. Fine. I can respect that. But I’m putting peppermint in mine. Where it belongs.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Bite me.”

“If that’s what you want, but doesn’t change the fact you’re wrong.”

Kaidan laughs, which makes Shepard grin. Warmth shoots through Kaidan right to his toes. That fucking grin, with that fucking sweater. Okay, so maybe he has bad taste in hot chocolate, but Kaidan’s still not sure how he ever got this lucky.

“Important question,” Shepard says, expression turning solemn. “Your stance on whipped cream.”

“That shit in a can?” Kaidan asks, wrinkling his nose. “No. Actual fresh whipped cream? Yes.”

“Well, unless you milked a cow this morning all we have is shit in a can, and if you take whipped cream off the table you might as well just kill me and get it over with.”

“Compromise, then,” Kaidan says, handing him a mug. “We can do shit in a can, but I get to drink my peppermint in peace.”

Shepard takes the mug. “I accept your terms.”

Kaidan stirs the peppermint extract into his own mug, then follows Shepard back into the living room. Before settling in on the couch, he flips on the fireplace. All they need is a little snow and they’ll have a proper winter evening.

Shepard snags the whipped cream can and adds an oversize dollop to his mug while Kaidan shakes his head.

“You are such a snob,” Shepard says.

“I don’t hear you complaining.”

In response, Shepard squirts a dab on Kaidan’s nose. Kaidan swipes it off with a finger and rubs it on Sam’s cheek. All-out war nearly ensues until Kaidan wipes it away with a napkin. Eventually he raises an arm up so Sam can duck underneath and nestle against his chest. When they’re settled, Kaidan tugs a blanket across them. Between the flicker and pop of the fire, the damned good cup of hot chocolate – if he does say so himself – and Shepard’s warm body against him, there’s no place Kaidan would rather be.

Kaidan sets his mug down on the coffee table, then takes Shepard’s and does the same. Before he can protest, Kaidan turns his head and kisses him, soft, slow and tender.

“Oh, gross,” Shepard mumbles into his mouth, before pulling away with a look of distaste.

“Gross?” Kaidan exclaims. “Did you just kiss me and say gross?”

“You taste like peppermint,” he complains.

Kaidan narrows his eyes, then lunges at him, mashing their lips together and shoving his tongue as far he can into Shepard’s mouth. Shepard sputters, frees himself, and emphatically wipes his mouth, before glaring at Kaidan.

“You are the worst, do you know that?”

“I can’t believe you called kissing me gross. I’m a damned good kisser.”

“You are,” Shepard assures.

“You are lucky it’s me you get to make out with day in and day out.”

“Very.”

They stare at each other.

“Peppermint is gross,” Shepard informs him.

Kaidan’s eyes flick towards the whipped cream can on the coffee table. Shepard intuits his grab for it too late to stop him and Kaidan lands three strikes before Shepard finally deflects. An errant stream of whipped cream arcs through the air and onto the floor to go along with the dollop on Shepard’s nose, in his ear and on his forehead. As the can clatters to the floor Shepard pins Kaidan to the couch by both wrists, hovering over him with a smirk that would have flipped Kaidan’s stomach, had it not been for the cream stuck to his eyelashes.

“You have something on your face,” Kaidan says.

Shepard leans in and kisses him, sloppy and wet, doing his due diligence to share.

“Is that better?” he asks when they part.

Kaidan wipes at the whipped cream now smeared on his own forehead. “Little bit, yeah.”

Shepard grins and kisses a blob off Kaidan’s nose. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

“Apparently enough to put up with peppermint.”

“That’s a lot of love, Kaidan.” Shepard tugs them both back upright and readjusts the blanket until they’re comfortably snuggled underneath, then hands Kaidan his hot chocolate before taking his own.

“This is why we live where the air hurts your face,” Kaidan says, leaning his head against Shepard’s.

Shepard takes another sip and draws Kaidan a little closer. “Peppermint is gross.”

Kaidan smiles. “I love you, too.”

#theoriginalladya #mshenko #kaidan alenko #mass effect #my fic #fluff as far as the eye can see #the hot chocolate fic #are you TeamSam #or TeamKaidan #I NEED TO KNOW

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elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years ago

Text

June Contest Submission #3: Saved On A Rainy Day

Words: ca. 5,500 Setting: mAU Lemon: lime CW: None

Anna stares out the window, her reflection staring back at her on the rain-covered glass. Huddled in a fortress of blankets, she watches the droplets slowly fall to the windowpane before a flash of light catches her attention. Looking out to the front yard now, Anna waits for something to happen again, her blue gaze drawn to the swirling black and grey clouds that seem to stretch endlessly across the sky. Then a heavy roll of thunder makes the window rattle. Unable to suppress her panic and fear, the young girl parts from her blankets and clumsily drops to the floor. She runs as fast as she can to her older sister’s bedroom door and opens the door.

“Anna?” Elsa’s disturbed tired voice groans out from under her own blankets when Anna invades her bed space. Like the good big sister she is, she sits up to look down at the 5-year-old joining her and opens her arms for Anna to fall into.

“Is it the storm?” She questions, only to get no verbal reply. It isn’t the warmth Anna is looking for, just the comfort. So, Elsa gives a small yawn and wraps her arms around Anna before laying back down into the pillows. Another roll of thunder rumbles by, ignored by Elsa while Anna holds on tighter until Elsa’s small hand gently runs through her ginger hair. The trembling ebbs away, as does the sound of thunder, allowing Anna to finally relax and loosen her grip around Elsa.

__________________________________

Elsa, now 18 and feeling more isolated from her family than ever, stares gloomily at the rainy world outside. Part of her had expected Anna to already be knocking on her door before the thunder really started going, but her closed door has remained a wall since lunch. After her small freak-out session this morning where an anxiety attack had gotten away from her, she doesn’t blame them for keeping their distance. Space had become her greatest friend and most formidable enemy. Anna used to keep these anxieties and fears at bay, but as of recently, she’s been making them worse.

She doesn’t know what’s wrong with her. One morning, after waking up to Anna in her bed from a storm she had completely slept through, everything just kind of changed. Something strange and different fluttered in her heart, something that made her anxious and happy at the same time, which also made her afraid. Emotions kept coming in intense amounts, and what she had felt waking up to none other than her sister, she would rather not feel again.

Sudden knocking on her door jerks Elsa from her thoughts. She whips her head away from the window to stare at the door as if she might be able to see through it if she stared hard enough. However, that vision to determine who might be behind the door wouldn’t come. If it’s her parents, she wants to stay quiet in case they plan to have another long discussion, but if it’s Anna… Well, there’s just no way she can refuse the younger girl on a night like this. Even with her emotions the way they are.

So, Elsa gets to her feet and hesitantly treads over to the door, where she turns off the light switch nearby and slowly opens it. Just as she does so, she finds Anna starting to walk away, her head hung in disappointment.

“Anna? Is it the storm?” Her voice spooks the girl, who jumps away and then quickly turns back to Elsa’s door while her blankets attempt to trip her. Elsa opens the door wider so she could reach forward and catch her sister if need be.

“I wasn’t sure you were still awake.”

“Since when do you knock during storms?” Erasing her gloomy look, Elsa fixes Anna with a sly smirk and leans against her door frame. Something about that must have either caught Anna off guard or… something, for before she could say anything, she actually trips forward. Like Elsa was prepared for, she reaches out to catch the young teen in her cold sleeveless arms.

“Sorry…” Regardless of her clumsy self, Anna gives an embarrassed smile, her gaze cast away.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve always got you. Now, come on in, before-” The loud rumble of thunder she had been waiting for interrupts her. The rain seems to pound harder against the house afterward, too, making the hallway light flicker. In an instant, Anna has abandoned her blanket and is clinging on tight to Elsa.

Without another word, Elsa pulls her sister into the room and gently closes the door behind herself with her foot, completely disregarding the blanket. Anna is trembling against Elsa, her fingers almost painfully digging into her sides. It isn’t new for Anna to cry in moments like these, but it always makes Elsa worry for her. When she drops back onto her bed, Elsa softly caresses the young girl’s hair just in the way that would get her to start calming down.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’re going to be okay.” Elsa’s calming words successfully get Anna to stop trembling so much, but they don’t do anything to stop her crying. This is just going to be one of those really bad nights for her… Curse the awful weather here. Not that Elsa minded any of this. She has gotten so used to it that it would be a rough night for her as well if she doesn’t know that Anna is okay. She hates to see Anna in so much distress. Another loud rumble and the silent crack of light outside her windows, and Anna is clinging tight to her again.

“So loud…” The young girl mumbles against Elsa’s stomach, making it hard not to smile at least a little bit. Anna is so cute… Their parents don’t care so much for what they call a “childish fear”, and while Elsa can see why it could be frustrating for them, she would support Anna no matter what her fears are.

“Would you like me to sing to you?” As she offers the suggestion, Anna’s beautiful blue eyes peek up at her with blurry excitement. Anna lets go and allows Elsa to sit up against the wall, so she could slide over next to her that way and pull the blankets up over them. Only after snugly wrapping her arm around Anna and pulling her sister in close to her, does she take a semi-nervous deep breath.

“Where the Northwind meets the sea…” The more she continues with the melody, the easier it is to get comfortable with. Her singing is something she reserves only for the most special of crowds, so she couldn’t help being nervous, but as that special crowd is only Anna, it’s worth doing. That fact is pleasantly reminded to her as soon as her sister’s tears finally come to a stop, as do her eyelids drop. By the time she finishes the lullaby, the young girl is out like the power. However, her own heart has only continued rising in rate.

She presses a cold kiss to Anna’s forehead, wishing she didn’t want to kiss any lower than that. The action produces a soft smile from her sleeping sister, but one that fades as Anna slips into a deeper sleep. Elsa is left staring at the foggy windows until exhaustion finally claims her.

_______________________________________

“Anna, come get your dirty socks out of the living room!!” At Elsa’s irritated demand, Anna looks away from her phone to the open bedroom door. She bites her lip and reluctantly slips off of her bed to do as her sister asks. There are a lot more socks out here than she thought there would be, almost like she isn’t the only person leaving them out here. Anna casts a suspicious look over in Elsa’s direction, only for it to be unnoticed as the older woman is taking their collective laundry to the small washer in this overpriced apartment.

After gathering all of the socks she could into her arms, Anna follows her into the tight laundry room. Elsa slides back against the wall so Anna could dump the socks into the washer and then reaches past her to close the lid and start the machine.

“Do you think we should wait until the morning to do laundry? It looks like it’s going to storm outside.”

“You always say that.”

“I do not!”

The two wrestle to get out the laundry room door first, only Elsa successfully getting out with the younger woman dropped clumsily at her feet.

“Yeah, you do. You’re just a big clumsy chicken.” Getting mocked like this, Anna somewhat would rather stay on the floor than accept her sister’s hand of help. “Oh, come on. You know I’m just teasing you.” Reluctantly, Anna takes Elsa’s hand and lets herself be pulled up off the floor and into a warm hug. It lasts barely more than a second, as they always do nowadays, but it’s the thought that makes Anna’s heart gush.

“Whatever. It hasn’t stormed for a really long time is all I’m saying. When it hits, it’s going to hit hard! I feel like you aren’t as worried as I am…”

“That’s because I’m not worried. How about some hot cocoa? We can watch a movie, so you can relax.” Elsa’s hand rubs a comforting circle on Anna’s back as she leads her to the small couch a few feet away. When Anna looks over at the large window at the far wall near the front door, her sister attempts to block her sight of the horrible storm quickly brewing. Maybe that’s for the better. If she catches a glimpse of the trees dangerously swaying out there and the power lines shaking in the wind, there’s no way she’d be able to relax.

“Fine…”

“Good. You just pick out a movie and I’ll start making the cocoa.” With that, Elsa leaves her side to pull the blinds over the window and then walks into the kitchen. Anna sighs, getting down onto her knees to scootch over to the TV and scan what movies they have. A little bit of horror, some chick flicks, and of course, a large array of Disney and Pixar movies.

Only by the time the microwave buzzes, does Anna find the right movie. A personal favorite of hers since she was a child: Toy Story. Elsa isn’t as big a fan of these kinds of movies as she is, or at least that’s what she says, but every time Anna puts on one of the movies, there she is watching it with her.

“Have you picked a movie yet?” Elsa calls out from the kitchen.

“Yep! Putting it in right now!” As Anna does so, she can hear her sister quickly walking down the hall behind her, likely to grab a blanket or two. After the title screen pops up on the TV, Anna meanders herself over to the couch just in time for Elsa to return with the blankets and drop them onto her lap. Then Elsa disappears into the kitchen to retrieve the cocoa.

It takes a moment for them to get situated and comfy, both wrapped in the large fluffy blanket Elsa had grabbed from her room, with Anna leaning into Elsa’s arms without hindering her sister from seeing the movie or enjoying her cocoa. Then they watch in silence once the movie plays. Well, as silent as they could be when making each other giggle. A few dumb comments there, some inside jokes there…

Eventually, with both empty mugs of cocoa on the floor beside the couch, Anna is fast asleep in Elsa’s arms. Without needing to sit up to drink their beverage, they had laid lengthwise on the couch, meaning Anna got the best pillows while watching and Elsa had to deal with stray ginger hairs making her chin itch. All in all, it’s still very worth it to hold her little sister so tightly when the storm outside only gets worse. She almost falls asleep herself, but now that the movie is over and the title screen is muted, a loud boom of thunder wakes Anna from her sleep.

“We’re gonna die!!!” Anna sits up with her hands over her ears, a wild panicked look on her face.

“We’re not going to die.” Elsa tries to pull Anna back down by wrapping her arms around the girl’s waist, but it takes another moment of Anna registering that the world isn’t crumbling around her before she lays back down. “Don’t worry, we’re okay.” Her soft voice slowly eases Anna’s fear and lulls her back into a tired state. As if on cue, the moment Elsa kisses Anna’s head, the power on the TV flickers out, leaving them in pitch darkness.

About to hyperventilate, Anna presses herself closer to Elsa, so desperately wanting to believe that they’ll be okay. Elsa knows the drill with Anna and this situation already, so one of her arms tightly holds Anna against her, and the other reaches into her pocket to find her phone. Once pulling it out, Elsa turns on the flashlight to give Anna some comfort that the world is still perfectly there in front of them. Except it wasn’t.

Haha, just kidding.

“Hey, I’m going to get up and grab the candles, okay?” As Elsa starts to get up, Anna holds onto her sister’s arm like it’s the only lifeline she has. “You’ll be okay for a few minutes without me. Here, take my phone. I’ll grab a flashlight from my bedroom.” Trading Elsa’s arm for her phone, Anna reluctantly lets her go. Now huddled alone in a cocoon of the blanket, all Anna can hear or think is the sound of hard rain battering the outside window like a beckoning to show her the ruins that lay just on the other side.

Wanting to at least attempt to get her fears off of her mind, Anna turns on Elsa’s phone, only to be discouraged by that idea when a pin lock shows up on the screen. Part of her wonders if she could try randomly putting in birthdays or important dates, but before she can try, the home screen loads. The phone camera must have accidentally recognized her face as Elsa’s. How unfortunate for her sister.

Without wifi, there isn’t any looking at social media, but she knows for a fact that Elsa’s gallery has to be filled to the brim with stupid memes. It has to be with all the screenshots Anna gets sent on the daily of things Elsa thinks Anna would like to see. However annoying that could be, it’s so sweet of Elsa to be thinking of her so often. When Anna pulls up the gallery of photos, she’s more than surprised to find much more than memes. Pictures of Anna herself when she isn’t looking pepper throughout the mass of screenshots and pieces of gay fanart of ships Anna doesn’t recognize. Really good pictures actually. They’re very aesthetically pleasing, but why?

Before Anna can go any deeper into her successfully distracting browse, Elsa’s footsteps panic her of being caught. So, she quickly turns off the phone again and sits up to look over the couch at Elsa, who holds a small tub of candles and a flashlight in one of her hands.

“Found them. You okay?”

“Y- yeah.” It must have been suspicious that Anna is just suddenly calm because Elsa gives her a once-over with a skeptical look. “What?”

“Nothing. Help me set these up then, won’t you?”

Anna nods and wiggles out of her blanket cocoon. Should she ask about the pictures? She wouldn’t want to out herself for breaching Elsa’s privacy, and it isn’t like the pictures are hurting anyone. Maybe she should just be quiet about it and later send subtle selfies to add to her sister’s collection. Is that creepy? Elsa seems to catch Anna lost in thought and gently pokes her arm with a candle before setting it down near the TV.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Oh. Just the storm. Sounds really nasty outside, almost like someone knew this would happen.” Anna’s sass stops Elsa from pressuring with another pressing question.

“Fine. You were right. Happy now?” Elsa lights the candle and grabs another to light on a small table in the middle of the living room, Anna trailing after her to put one in the bathroom just beside the laundry room.

“A little bit, but I wish I weren’t.”

“It isn’t all bad. We still have each other, board games, and I downloaded a bunch of music on my phone.” Anna hums, unconvinced that anything good could come of this storm. “Don’t be so stubborn. One day, you’re going to be caught in a storm without me, and then what are you going to do?”

“Lay on the ground and cower until you find me.”

“Anna…” Elsa sounds disappointed, but Anna could see the smile on her face. “You’re going to have to get over this fear one day. Storms are a part of life, and while they can be sudden and destructive, they can also bring about something beautiful!” Doubtful of this, Anna hums again and goes back to the living room to hold the candle placed on the TV stand. The light is lowly comforting, as is the sweet cinnamon smell it gives.

“Like what?” Elsa joins her on the floor, sitting crisscrossed in front of her. For a moment, she hesitates to respond to the question, like the first thing that popped into her mind wouldn’t sound quite right.

“Rainbows! And the heavy amount of rain is healthy for grass and plants to grow.”

“How could something so loud and terrifying bring about something so wonderful…?”

This time, Elsa doesn’t answer for an even longer time, her gaze lost on Anna’s face. It’s hard to tell, but in the close firelight, it almost looks like she’s blushing. Slowly, one of Elsa’s hands reaches up to Anna’s face to brush away the loose strands of her hair that threaten to fall into her mouth or catch in her eye. Somehow, the moment feels intimate. Alone in the dimly lit darkness, with only the sound of rain and quiet thunder between them. It’s a silly thought, but Anna almost expects Elsa to kiss her.

“The earth is a very confusing and wonderful place, that’s how.” But she doesn’t, obviously. Elsa retracts herself from beside Anna and stands to walk back into the hallway.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to grab a board game. Anything you prefer?” Anna thinks for a moment before reaching over to the couch and pulling the blankets down onto the floor.

“I don’t want to play board games.”

“Don’t be so stubborn, Anna, we’re going to-”

“No, I mean, I want to sleep. Isn’t it late?” Elsa goes quiet again, concerning Anna until the woman finally reappears behind the couch. “What is it?”

“You want to sleep during a storm? Since when?” The whole danger of being asleep when a natural disaster could kill them both doesn’t feel so present when she thinks about laying beside Elsa again. Her sister isn’t really that much bigger, or even stronger, than her, but she still makes Anna feel so safe. The way Elsa can just soothe her mind with just her voice and the gentle touch of her fingers…

“I’m just feeling tired again. You’re right, maybe there’s nothing to be so afraid of.” How is she supposed to say that without making things weird though? It probably isn’t weird at all, but the way she describes it in her head doesn’t sound right. Elsa looks skeptical as she leans over the back of the couch.

“Okay… Well, would you like to sleep out here or in your bedroom?”

“Oh, is your bedroom not an option anymore?” Elsa’s uncertain expression instantly turns into a smirk, a clear indication that she now sees right through Anna’s “not afraid anymore” tactic.

“Well, I’m not going to light any candles for you in there, so it’s going to be pretty dark. Are you sure you can handle that?” Anna rolls her eyes and stands, the blankets bunched into her arms.

“As long as your arms are around me, I can handle anything.” The soft reply works far better in her favor than some rude comeback, for Elsa goes very quiet again. Even without seeing her face, Anna can imagine she has turned all shades of red by now. She found out long ago how to get this kind of reaction from her sister, and while she isn’t exactly sure why she acts like this, it’s always more fun to tease her this way.

She’s only overdone it once, but the result stuck with her enough to be more careful. It was when they were both still just teens. They were playing a very competitive game on the Xbox and Anna was losing. Elsa, a not so graceful winner, was teasing her about it, and Anna practically smothered the poor older girl with both physical and verbal affection. She may have won the next round, but at what cost when Elsa disappeared into her room with some sort of panic attack and didn’t come back out until the next day.

Anna walks over to Elsa’s bedroom door and stands beside it to wait for approval. A little slow to join her, Elsa timidly opens the door and allows Anna to go through with the blankets first. It’s definitely much darker in here than Anna expected, but it would make sense with the power out and the curtains pulled tight over her window. As soon as Anna finds the bed and flops over on it, she leaves the blankets and goes to find the window.

“Anna, what are you doing?” Elsa’s exasperated voice sounds from far behind her as does the click of the bedroom door closing.

“I’m going to open the curtains.”

“Why? So you can jump awake at every flash of lightning? Not tonight. You want to go to bed, we’re going to bed.”

Hand on one of the curtains anyways, Anna lifts the curtain just a bit to look outside. The storm hasn’t gotten any better. From what she could see of behind the apartment complex, small tree branches are littered over the parked cars, most only doing minor damage while one large branch has pierced through the windshield of an unfortunately new-looking car. A loud crack can be heard above before the bright flash of white illuminates herself and what it could of the room for just a moment.

Anna jumps back into Elsa’s waiting arms, her heart pounding fearfully in her chest as thunder fills the room. She turns in the hold to hug tight onto Elsa, hiding her face in the crook of Elsa’s neck. While one of Elsa’s arms hugs her back tightly, the other closes the curtain again. In darkness once more, Anna is guided back towards the bed with now two comforting arms holding her protectively.

Only when they’re on the bed, surrounded by a thick comforter, and Elsa loosens her grip to wrap them both in the large blanket, does Anna find relaxation again. The smell of her sister and the gentle feeling of her breath on her shoulder is just the right distraction and nostalgia to make her feel sleepy.

“Is this comfortable for you?” She whispers drowsily, unsure if Elsa is comfortable too or just being polite for her scared little sister.

“Mm, could be worse,” Elsa murmurs back, sounding just as tired. Her hands have become loose grips on Anna’s shirt, now just limp on her back.

“Would you like me to move?” Without needing an answer, Anna starts to shift and readjust her weight on Elsa’s body until she’s lying mostly beside her with one leg draped over one of Elsa’s and her arms wrapped tight around Elsa’s shoulders.

“…This is worse.” Elsa groans and starts to move to fix the problem herself. She rewraps both arms around Anna and pulls her back on top before rolling onto her side. Now Anna’s face is half-buried in her sister’s tits, but that’s fine because she’s being held so tightly that she never wants to be let go. “Much better. This good for you, too?”

“Mhmm.” Completely prepared to sleep like this, Anna is dismayed to feel Elsa leaning back.

“Oh, sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine, I was-” Anna’s kind-of-protest is cut off by her surprise more so than the action when gentle lips come in contact with her own. They don’t stay very long, and could easily be ignored if either just says something, but the silence that draws on in the dark makes it much tenser.

“I- Sor… Sorry, I th- thought.. I didn’t think it was- y- your cheek.” Wait- what did she think? Elsa’s nervous stuttering makes it confusing.

“You… did or didn’t think you were kissing my cheek? I mean, it doesn’t matter. Let’s just go to sleep.” The room goes quiet as Elsa pulls her arms away from Anna, making all their attempts to be comfortably intertwined with each other a waste of time when she rolls onto her other side. With a sigh, Anna scoots herself close against Elsa’s back, her arm innocently draping over her waist. Unfortunately, just as she does so, Elsa moves even farther away, and when Anna goes to reach for her, she’s gone.

The sound of footsteps is barely audible underneath the hard rainfall and the thunder. Anna sits up when the door to the bedroom opens and Elsa leaves the room, the door staying open just a crack. A little afraid to be alone in this dark room with the storm just behind the window a few feet away, she lays back down and pulls the comforter over herself to hide in the massive blanket.

She can’t sleep, not like this. Her eyes are wide open to the dark surroundings, wondering if she should go after Elsa or stay for worry of making it worse. All those pictures in her sister’s phone… and then Elsa’s weird phrasings when talking about the storm, and the weird way she reacts to Anna’s affection… No, it has to be some coincidence, right? Elsa doesn’t like her that way. She can’t! And yet, it would make so much sense. Anna feels confused and oblivious, like this whole thing has gone on far longer than she realizes.

What does she do? How is she supposed to respond? She doesn’t feel disgusted by this revelation, but it’s more strange to think about than she’s used to. No matter what, she doesn’t want to lose her sister. Regardless of how Elsa feels about her, Anna doesn’t want to live in a world where she can’t see Elsa’s face or hear her laugh or sleep in her bed or…

Anna’s heart skips a beat. Oh. Is it possible she feels the same way as Elsa? That thought puts an anxious pit in her stomach that only gets worse with how she can hear the things in Elsa’s room shift from the next deep roll of thunder. Would that make things better or worse for them? Well, Anna being the most chaotic of the two, she figures there are only a couple of ways to find out, and tonight’s the perfect opportunity for one of those ways. Well, perfect is overselling, but if she doesn’t do it like the courageous coward she is, then she would never do it and never pursue finding out.

Like a rabbit obliviously walking into a trap, Elsa quietly walks back into the room, her face refreshed with water. She closes the door behind herself once more and walks over to the bedside.

“Sorry that I left like that. I just needed to cool off for a second.” Elsa was gone much longer than a second, but Anna digresses about the topic. Instead, she opens up the comforter cocoon to let Elsa onto the bed and then closes the box on her prey. Unaware of what’s happening in the dark of the room, it’s Anna’s perfect chance to kiss Elsa back, but she waits. Only when Elsa has gotten herself comfortable under the weight of Anna, her arms holding onto the girl while Anna lays her head on her chest, does Anna make a very slow and careful move.

One of her hands, lightly brushing against Elsa’s arm like her other hand, moves up to cradle the back of Elsa’s neck when Anna raises herself to find Elsa’s mouth. Her lips discover her chin and then Elsa’s lower lip before quickly seizing in on the kiss. Elsa completely froze the moment Anna’s hand made its ascent, but after a moment of adjusting to the girl’s kiss, her hold on Anna’s waist tightens and she starts to desperately kiss back. It surprises Anna at first that this is Elsa’s reaction after she had just freaked out about kissing her. Then Elsa’s hands scatter, rubbing up and down Anna’s back while Elsa’s dominance over the kiss pulls her in deep to the over-sensuality that comes with experiencing this in the dark.

The way Elsa’s breath has erratically changed to be shallow pants, close to Anna’s own nervous shallow breath, and how Anna could feel Elsa’s heartbeat against her chest. It thumps fast and strong against Anna’s own racing pulse. Thinking about this, she can also feel her face getting extremely hot. She quickly forgets to remember how strange this is and gives in to the new feelings. Storms really can be wonderful…

_______________________________________________________________

The ceiling light coming on rudely wakes Elsa from a thoroughly exhausted sleep. Squinting one eye open just to debate whether it’s worth getting up, her gaze catches on the dark ginger hair messily sprawled over her exposed chest and both eyes go wide. She’s careful not to sit up too quickly, but she props herself up on one elbow to pull her shirt down from where the hem rests on her collarbone.

Once she does, Elsa stares down at Anna, sleeping so peacefully on her bare abdomen. All of the events of last night come crashing into her thoughts, the last of them putting a hot blush on her face. Then she looks over at the curtained window, unable to see through the fabric, but able to hear the sounds of early birds chirping. She has no idea what time it could be and her phone is buried in her pocket, probably dead by now. There’s no way she’s going to risk waking Anna up.

If last night wasn’t a dream, she wants to draw out the time until she would have to talk with Anna about it. It was definitely Anna who kissed her the second time, right? Gosh, her thoughts feel as blurry as her tired eyes. With a huff, Elsa lets her arms slide down the blanket and lets her head fall back into the pillows. What is she going to say?

Elsa had repressed these feelings horribly without consequence until last night. After the slip-up, she went and cried in the bathroom until pulling herself together with the thought: “whatever just happened, Anna needs support right now. She can’t be alone in a storm like this.” So, when Anna kissed her without any warning, everything else just moved faster than she was ready for. Years worth of desires… Are they finally reciprocated?

Again, Elsa looks down at Anna, the girl’s freckled features obscured with hair. She nervously pulls a few strands of hair away from her face, exposing pieces of her neck as well and a dark bite mark between her neck and shoulder. A regretful grimace crosses her face remembering this moment like a flashback.

The rest of Anna is covered by the comforter, but slight exposure of her sister’s shoulders suggests she isn’t wearing much underneath. Casting a glance over to the floor, further evidence is shown with both of their collective pants lying beside the bed.

How could everything have moved so quickly? She doesn’t remember speaking more than a few words once it started and none of it explained how it happened. Elsa knows Anna likes to tease her because of her flustered reaction, but nothing she ever did genuinely suggests she actually felt the same. Maybe she was just better at hiding it? Maybe she didn’t know at first…? No, that’s too hopeful. But then, what?

Anna gives a soft sigh, rousing Elsa from her thoughts. The sleepy girl picks up her head and stares tiredly at Elsa, a smile slowly growing on her face. Then, like her hard drive just booted up, her face turns into that of excitement. She squirms a bit out of the blanket to sit up and look down at Elsa, who tries to keep her eyes on her sister’s face.

“Good morning. Some storm last night, huh?”

#elsanna #submission #June 2021 contest #prompt: storm #lime

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thekisforkeats · 4 years ago

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The Joys of Fandom, or, how TMA helped me rediscover my love of tea

So among the many (many) good things The Magnus Archives podcast has brought to my life, none has been quite so profound as remembering how much I love making a good cup of tea. I’ve got a whole post about how it’s helped me categorize the anxiety cloud I live with on a constant basis, how it’s gotten me writing again, and writing poetry which I haven’t done in forever, how identifying with so many openly queer boys going through so much crap has helped me figure out that I want to transition.

But.

Tea is the reason we’re here today, because making a pot of tea has become a daily ritual since I started listening to TMA, and it’s been one of those tiny things that’s changed my life profoundly, and I have TMA to thank for this almost entirely.

I did not grow up drinking tea. I am from the Seattle, Washington area, and I’m just old enough Starbucks was a popular local coffee shop when I was a kid. My parents both drank a TON of coffee, my mother basically runs on the stuff, and by the time I was 6 I was drinking coffee too. Tea, growing up, was Lipton, sometimes iced or sometimes not. I didn’t even realize herbal tea was tea. Green tea was a thing one drank at Chinese restaurants. I was not at all informed.

When I got my first job, I would stop at Starbucks during the bus layover (as once does in the Seattle area) and one day in a fit of teenaged desire to be “cool” and “writerly” because I’d seen a tin of “Writer’s Chai” in the store I bought a chai latte. I loved it, and that became my go-to Starbucks drink.

I still didn’t really get tea, but I at least started learning how to boil water in the kettle and waiting for it to actually boil, pouring it over the tea bag, etc. I didn’t put in milk or sugar because I drank coffee black unless it was a latte or a mocha. I would just sort of... boil the water and pour it over and wait a few minutes and drink the tea with the bag still in the mug.

It wasn’t until I moved to Toronto that I sat down and had a good cup of tea. The woman who hosted the social group I was part of had her particular tea-making rituals, and she encouraged me to try it with milk and sugar, and it was... amazing. Life-changing, even. My perseveration drive kicked into full swing and I had to know everything about tea and its history and how to make a proper cup and so on and so forth. I learned all I could from our hostess, and then turned to the internet.

I bought a kettle to make tea at home but my ex wasn’t really supportive of my desire to brew tea on the regular, so loose leaf and teapots and “does the milk go in in cup before or after the tea” had to wait until I moved out and got a place of my own.

Then I moved to Tallahassee.

In Tallahassee, the coffee was atrocious unless it was from a couple of specific places, mostly serving cafe con leche. But I had my own place and my own dishes and I could have a teapot and make tea and nobody could stop me. So I did. Mostly for myself, while I was contemplating things, and it was really nice to sit and stare out at the ridiculously heavy Florida rain--which hit, in Tallahassee, right about 4:15 in the afternoon all summer so perfect for tea time.

I moved back to Seattle with my spouse, and we moved into my mother’s house. For a long while we didn’t have a kitchen of our own and we had small children, so tea wasn’t a thing I did any more. I had leftover coffee (or canned/bottled coffee) for the caffeine fix, but rarely tea. When my grandmother died and we moved into her old apartment we didn’t have a stove, and I despise heating water for tea in the microwave.

So for the better part of a decade, I barely drank any tea at all. I did discover Oi Ocha in this time, which is bottled green tea from Japan, which is amazing and I love it, but again--it was in a bottle. Not a thing I was personally making.

Then I started listening to The Magnus Archives, and I really identified with Martin Blackwood, because of reasons too complicated to get into here. But it inspired me to want to make tea again, and so I started getting K-cup pods, but it just... wasn’t... right. It wasn’t the same. I mean, it was tea, but it wasn’t... tea.

So I went and bought an electric kettle, and a teapot, and a strainer, and ordered regular deliveries of loose leaf tea, and started making tea for myself and my spouse. I developed my own ritual: cold water in the kettle, put hot water into the teapot (so it doesn’t crack), put three scoops of loose leaf in the strainer. Pour out the water in the teapot when the kettle boils, put in the strainer, pour the boiling water over the strainer. Wait four minutes or so, and while you’re waiting put a splash of half-and-half in the tea mugs (milk goes first so it doesn’t scald and we like the taste of half-and-half best). Then pour the tea into the mugs. The mugs are big enough that I take three spoons of sugar and my spouse four, so put all the sugar into the mugs and then increase the entropy (aka stir) until the sugar’s dissolved. Bring the tea out into the living room, enjoy.

The first time I got it all right, and made a good cup of tea, I literally cried, I was so happy. It was like seeing the sun after it had been dark for so long I’d forgotten what the sun looked like.

The thing I have come to realize about what tea means to me is something that Jon says in the trailer for Season 5 of TMA. Martin brings him a cup of “tea” and Jon goes “that’s not tea” and, indeed, it turns out to be some weird skittering thing. The following exchange really crystallized things for me:

Jon: This is no longer a world where you can trust-- Martin: Tea?! Jon: Comfort.

And that was it, right there. Coffee is fuel, for me. Coffee is “Wake Up, Get Up, Get Out There.” (Quite literally; part of playing Persona 5 was remembering how much I love trying out new coffee blends.)

Tea, however, is comfort. Tea is slowing down. Tea is caffeine, yes, and therefore focus for my poor ADD/autistic brain, but it’s afternoon focus. It’s contemplation. It’s sitting and breathing in the aroma and thinking about things in a way that isn’t spiraling or catastrophizing. Whether it’s breakfast tea or Earl Grey or green tea, or an herbal like peppermint or chamomile, tea for me is self-care.

Taking those few minutes to get up and go make a pot of tea in the afternoon, to stop the business of the day and just stand there waiting for the kettle to boil, is something I’ve desperately needed. Coffee is easy to sort of make as “fire and forget,” to the point that I’ve gulped down cold or lukewarm coffee I’d forgotten about just because I need the caffeine. Tea, though, if you’re doing it right you have to stand there and wait for the water to boil and wait for the tea to steep. If you walk away to do something else you’ll ruin the whole thing. I completely understand why Martin is running around making tea for everyone in Season 2 all the time, because everything is falling apart in slow motion and it’s a chance to stop, to focus on making the tea, and then to take the time enjoying the tea itself.

Making tea for others also means love to me. I make tea for my spouse alongside myself. I included one of my teenaged children in tea-making for the first time yesterday and my youngest keeps getting the last bit of tea in the pot, and it’s such a joy to see their faces light up. Bringing someone tea means bringing them a mug of love and care. Another reason I identify with Martin--I often don’t know what to say to help someone, so I try to be sure they’re fed and hydrated and cared for. And I, too, had to learn to stop setting myself on fire to keep those people warm. I had to learn to be sure I was fed and hydrated and cared for, so I could care for them. But even now as I get older and wiser and grumpier I still run around making sure everyone’s fed and has had their mug of tea, I just don’t do it at my own expense anymore.

One of my next crochet projects is a tea cozy in the shape of a green owl, in honor of the Magnus Institute owl, because my little tea-making ritual is always going to be connected to TMA in my head. Also I have a “Fifteen Fears” mug and my spouse has a “Magnus Archives” owl symbol mug, so it’s literally just this really intense connection between TMA and tea, for me.

It’s funny how much comfort a horror podcast has given me since I’ve started listening. There are a few fandoms that have profoundly changed me--Star Trek was the first big one, Babylon 5 was the first that directly inspired me, Mass Effect helped me get out of suicidal depression, Persona (specifically Persona 5) inspired me to take responsibility for myself in a way therapy never quite managed.

And here I am with TMA, figuring out how to navigate anxiety and pain and grief in a world that feels like it’s falling apart around my ears. The concept that what we do matters; that right or wrong you should be making a decision instead of just reacting from fear or surprise; that sometimes you screw up and there’s nothing to be done, that “sorry” doesn’t fix everything, that sometimes nothing you do will fix anything and you can’t let that paralyze you... it’s all been necessary, and helpful, and I’ve been terribly grateful.

Thanks to TMA I’m writing again after years of terrible writer’s block. I’m facing my own fears and accepting that despite (because of?) my terrible arachnophobia I’d probably serve the Web if I served anything (although Eye and Lonely would also get a look in--I did say I identified with Martin pretty strongly). I’m recognizing dysphoria and dealing with it after years of trying to deny the elephant in the room.

I’m also making tea again. And for that, I am eternally, profoundly grateful.

#tma #the magnus archives #tea #martin blackwood #tma spoilers #i guess sort of?#i mean just in case #long post #my writing #seriously i cannot overstate how much tea means to me #it's been one of those things i didn't realize i needed until i started doing it again #i will definitely be posting pics of the tea cozy owl as i make it #because it's gonna be adorable af

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venushasvixens · 4 years ago

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Leather and Embers and Coffee (Kylo Ren x Reader)

“I have a large cold brew for Leo.”

This morning in the cafe you worked in was very busy for a Monday. It was like the minute you turned your back to make a drink, there was another customer coming in. It was supposed to be you and your coworker Ein, but called to tell you he was going to be about an hour late, which irritated you to the max. Working in the cafe down the street from Starbucks, you were always going to get those customers who try to order a Strawberry Acai with extra fruit, or a S'mores Frappuccino with no whip.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but we don’t carry that drink.” you would say.

And then it was like they went through the 5 stages of grief, all in about 5 seconds. You’ll get the “well I ordered it last time and you all made it,” or the “the coffeehouse down the street makes it, why can’t you?”, or your personally favorite, “Starbucks is better than you anyways.”

You still got a good amount of business, since your coffeehouse was more homey and the prices were lower, so it didn’t really bother you. You could carry a shift by yourself, since you’ve been working here for the past few years and such. It wasn’t that hard or grueling. The only thing bothering you today was Ein calling and that was it.

You just finished helping a customer when a group of men all dressed in suits walked in, a threatening jaunt in their step. In the middle of the group was a man with red hair, a scowl smeared on his face. His face conveyed so much annoyance, it seemed you could hear what was going through his head. You could also tell that he was rich, seeing as his suit looked like it cost more than your rent, which was already overpriced for a studio.

He glanced around the cafe, surveying the people. He took a few more steps in, shooing away his bodyguards. You continued making the drinks when you saw a tall man with wavy, dark hair walking in. This was one of your regulars, who came in around the same time everyday, and ordered the same thing. You smiled at him, giving him a small wave. You could remember his order in the middle of this mess. It was a cafe mocha with extra chocolate syrup, and occasionally, a croissant. A He gave you a small nod, his version of a hello. His corners of his lips twisting into what you think was either a smile or he was just making a face at the crowd surrounding you.

The red head turned to your regular, speaking lowly but closely to him. The regular leaned in, listening to all he had to say. As you shelled out drink after drink, the crowd became smaller. It was then that the redhead sauntered over to the register, tapping his finger on the counter. You wiped your hands on your apron.

“Good morning, how can-” you began. He lifted his hand to ignore you.

“Americano with an extra shot of espresso.” he said, “should be easy for you.”

“And a good name?” you asked.

“Some people should already know my name, but I’ll spare you the embarrassment. It's Hux, H-U-X.” he muttered.

Okay, already hating this. As you tapped his order into the system, he began tapping the counter with his metal debit card, sighing.

“Okay, that is 4.00 dollars.” you said. He tossed the card on the counter, making a clinking sound as it hit the surface. A smirk rose on his face.

“Did you hear that sound?” he asked you.

Biting your tongue, you replied. “What sound, sir?”

“That’s the sound of making real money in the real world. In an actual business.” he said proudly.

You just nodded, swiping his card so you can make his coffee and he can leave.

“You know, I just started working in that building across the street, so this may become my little hangout.” he said. Oh, great.

“Oh, sweet!” you said, plastering a fake smile on your face. “This really is a nice place to sit and relax.”

For some reason, you felt yourself regret your choice of words.

“Ah, yes. Relax, people watch, checking out some nice girls like yourself.” he said quietly. You caught that last part, and wanted to pour your freshly brewed french press on his smug face.

“Alright, here you go. Well, I hope to see you again soon!” you said cheerfully.

As you hand his receipt, his fingertips gently brushing the top of your hand.

“I hope so too, (y/n).” he smirked.

I want to go home I want to go home I want to go home I want to go home I want to-

“Hello.” you heard.

You looked up to see your regular standing in front of you, his arms crossed. He flashed you a small smile.

“How are you? It's been a minute since I saw you.” you said, smiling.

“Since yesterday, nothing much has happened.” he replied.

“Better to have nothing happened to have something happen.” you said.

He shrugged. “Nothing did happen, and he’s standing over there.” he mumbled.

You leaned over the counter, trying not to look too suspicious.

“Are you both working together?” you whispered.

He bent down to whisper, he cologne smelling of burnt leather and cinnamon. The scent was so warm and welcoming, you almost forgot you were in a coffeehouse and not by a fireplace at Christmas.

“Unfortunately, yes. I’ve already decided to find a way to get rid of him.” he whispered.

“Get rid of him? And how do you plan on doing that?” you said quietly, your hand cupping the side of your mouth.

“Make it look like an accident and hide him far, far away. No one will miss him, except the cat.” He smirked.

You nervously laughed. “Should I be concerned?”

His smirk quickly faded. “Oh, no no no. I was joking, I promise.”

“You had me in the first half, not going to lie.” you chuckled.

“Me? Nah, I could never.” he replied.

“Unless?” you grinned.

“Yes, (y/n), unless.” he smiled.

You haven’t seemed to notice Hux striding to the counter.

“What seems to be the hold up?” he muttered, “we have places to be, get on it.”

Taken aback by his sudden appearance and new found anger for you, you felt your cheeks get red in what you think was anger or embarrassment.

“I-i’m sorry-” you began, but was cut off.

“She’s still helping me, thank you. And she’ll get on it when she’s done helping me.” Ren said, a small clench in his jaw becoming more noticeable. There was a small silence, then Hux let off a sigh.

“In that case, Ren, I’ll order for you. Another Americano, same as mine. Just so you don’t waste anymore of my time.” he ordered. With a snap of his fingers, you nervously wrote Ren’s name on his cup.

“And this one is on me. Take this as a first day gift from yours truly.” Hux smiled, throwing his card like he did before. As you ran his card again, he checked his Apple watch, shaking his head.

“Will you look at that, Ren?” he held up his watch right in Ren’s face, “they need me back. Do me a favor and grab my coffee?”

Hux walked out, swinging the door open. You turned back to Ren, who was looking very upset. You couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment, anger, or annoyance. Maybe it was all three at once.

“I’ll be okay. Just thinking of that good hiding spot.” he said.

“So am I, just let me know when you do it so we can celebrate.” you chuckle. He walked to the pickup spot, his arms crossed. As you started Hux’s drink, you decided to do something special. You secretly placed a croissant in the microwave, glancing up to see if he was watching. You didn’t mind the way Ren looked at you. There was nothing malice or creepy, above all it was more awe and watching you work. Instead of making another Americano, you began to steam some milk and pulled out the chocolate syrup.

You placed Hux’s and Ren’s drink in a small holder, as well as a bag.

“Here a gift from us for being a loyal customer.” you smiled. He looked in the bag, seeing his croissant.

“Oh god, thank you. This means a lot, (y/n)” He beamed, placing 15 dollars in the tip jar.

“Anytime.” As he started to walk off, you waved your hand. “Oh, wait!”

“Yes?” he said, turning around to look at you.

“Can you tell me how your Americano tastes? Just to be sure it's alright.” you said.

“Oh course, I never had it before, so-” As he tasted it, he put his head down, but you could see he was blushing.

“Soo, what do you think?” you asked.

“It's the best thing I ever tasted.” he said, taking another sip.

With you, you didn’t hide blushing at all. “Thank you so much. Tell me how it goes.” you said, referencing his little problem.

“Oh trust me, I will.” he smiled, waving bye.

You waved back, watching him leave. As soon as he walked out, you let yourself think of what happened. You kept replaying your conversation over and over. You did this every time you both would talk. It was a nice pastime to ease the boredom. But what kept popping up in your head was his smile. He didn’t smile much, just a little chuckle and maybe a slight upturn of the corners of his lips sometimes. So maybe you did something really good today.

You heard the clicks of Ein’s footsteps rushing behind you.

“I was a goner for a second out there. Has the rush started yet?” he asked as he put his apron on, his face flushed.

“You just missed it, sweets. It wasn’t all that bad.” you smiled, handing him a small cup of coffee.

“Thank you, I need this.” he took the cup and gulped the entire thing. He squinted his eyes at you suspiciously. “You have that look in your eye, the one that kinda scares me. What happened?”

You told him about your recent encounter with your favorite regular, as well as your new hatred for his coworker.

“You’re such a sweetheart, (y/n). I’m telling ya, he really has a thing for you. One day he’s going to come in here, get on one knee and ask you to marry him. No dating, nothing, just straight to the wedding.” he said.

“He does have the money to pay for it on the spot, sooo..” you and Ein laughed. After your giggle fest, you began to clean the counter from the rush. You were cleaning around the register when you spotted it. A small, metal card, with the name Armitage Hux inscribed on the front. Oh no.

AUTHOR NOTE: Yes I wrote a coffeeshop au. Did I enjoy making it though? Absolutely. You can find more of me on Wattpad underneath the same name. I’ll be going back and forth, but Wattpad is just so much easier to manage. Please stay safe out there, mwah!!

#kylo ren #kylo ren x y/n #kylo ren x reader #ben solo #armitage hux #luke skywalker #rey #poe dameron #finn #general leia #han solo #chewbacca #lukeskywalker #the force awakens #last jedi #rise of skywalker

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lunatens · 5 years ago

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felix felicis (i)

word count: 2.5k

part i/iv

genre: fluff, harry potter au

pairing: hufflepuff!felix x ravenclaw!reader

a/n: the drought is over....i’m finally posting again gsdjfhsjfh i hope u all like harry potter! i truly don’t know how many parts this’ll be so i guess we’ll see as we go. also i haven’t read or watched harry potter in a lil while so if some of the rules don’t make sense just ignore them (lol plus i can do what i want)

“you know, you don’t have to be the best in every class,” chan says as he slides into the seat beside you at your usual spot in the great hall. you give him a glare, then continue stabbing at your plate of eggs.

“it’s not the fact that i’m not the best; if someone like seungmin, for example, did better than me, i’d be happy for him! it’s because it’s that stupid felix kid! he never pays attention in class, he rarely studies or does his homework, and he’s always out playing quidditch or visiting hogsmeade or something. he should be failing! not getting higher grades than ME of all people! i don’t know how he does it. i’m in the library like, 24/7, and i take notes in class and i don’t know i just...work harder than him. it’s stupid and unfair,” you rant, ending with an angry huff as you shovel a forkful of eggs in your mouth. chan stares at you blankly for a couple seconds, processing everything you just said.

“you seem a little jealous, y/n,” he comments, and you glare daggers at him.

“i am NOT. i just don’t understand how he, of ALL PEOPLE, was the only person in our class who could brew a draught of peace successfully,” you respond, and chan sighs.

“maybe he’s just naturally really smart. or he’s just lucky. besides, it’s been 2 days since that potions class, maybe it’s time to stop being so bitter about it,” he says, patting your shoulder in comfort. “i gotta go, i’m meeting up with changbin and jisung soon. you coming to the quidditch game tonight?” he says as he stands up and gathers his things.

“i don’t know, probably not, i have to stu-“

“wrong answer, you’re coming to the game. it’s ravenclaw against hufflepuff, you could at least support your own house,” he tells you. chan reaches over to snatch a piece of toast off of your plate, walking away before you can say anything.

“i’ll be waiting for you outside your common room later,” he calls over his shoulder, and you glare at his back as he heads to class. it’s moments like this that make you question your friendship with chan. you finish your breakfast, then pick up the stack of books you’d been reading before going to leave yourself. you make your way out of the great hall, heading back to the ravenclaw common room to grab an extra quill and some parchment (chan always seemed to forget his, and you had muggle studies with him later). you whirl around the corner only to collide with someone so hard you’re both sent flying to the ground, your books spilling over the floor.

“oops, i’m so sorry!” the other person says, and you recognize felix’s deep voice immediately. he begins picking up your books while you sit there fuming, staring at his mess of blonde hair. he stands up and brushes himself off, then reaches a hand out to help you up.

“sorry, i always forget to watch where i’m going,” he says sheepishly. a faint blush grows on his freckled cheeks, and you hate how cute he looks. you swat his hand away, then reach to take your books from him as you stand up. of all people, of course felix had to be the one you ran into.

“how’d you make that potion?” you blurt out; you don’t mean to sound so aggressive in your questioning—actually, you don’t mean to even talk to felix at all, you wanted to just leave without a word, but you have to know how he does so well. felix seems unphased at your bluntness.

“beginners luck, i guess,” he says with a shrug. you squint at him, skeptical of his answer.

“i don’t believe in luck,” you say. “for real, how do you do it? you’re always at the top of the class, but i’ve literally never seen you set foot in the library…”

“i don’t know, i just kind of show up and do my best. the universe must just like me or something,” he says nonchalantly. “you’re y/n, right? i think we have a few classes together,” he adds on.

“yeah, we do,” you reply, your voice cold. how could felix be so friendly towards you when you’ve been nothing but rude to him? his laid back demeanour just irritates you more. “anyways, i have a class to get to. i’ll see you around,” you say, before slipping into the sea of students bustling around in the hallways, leaving felix behind.

chan flops into the seat beside yours, sending an apologetic wave to the professor for being a couple minutes late. you slide your extra supplies towards him wordlessly, your other hand continuing to madly scribble notes.

“oh thanks y/n, you’re a lifesaver,” chan says gratefully. “i got caught up talking about game strategy with changbin and jisung and lost track of time,” he admits.

“mhm,” you mumble, too focused on the lesson to really pay attention.

class is about halfway over, and your professor is droning on about microwaves and various kitchen appliances when a tiny paper bird lands on your desk, interrupting your note taking. you turn in your seat to see where it came from only to meet the gaze of felix, leaning back in his seat in the back of the class beside his slytherin friend, hyunjin (who you’re pretty sure is taking a nap). he waves at you, and you scrunch up your nose at him and turn back around. the paper bird won’t stop flapping around, so you shove it in your pocket to look at it later and continue your note taking.

“can i change my mind? i don’t wanna go anymore,” you grumble as you walk to the quidditch pitch with chan, changbin and jisung. you stuff your hands in your coat pockets, trying to protect them from the biting cold wind.

“it’s just a quidditch match, y/n, it’s not the end of the world,” chan says with a sigh.

“it is when felix is keeper for the hufflepuff team,” you mutter to yourself. you pull out the paper he sent you in class earlier, creases unfolded to display the black ink on the crinkled paper. felix has crudely drawn (what you assume is supposed to be) him flying around in front of the hoops on the quidditch pitch, with you sitting in the stands holding a book. felix has given you a frowny face, and he’s drawn a little storm cloud above your head. underneath the drawing he’s written, in his sloppy handwriting, “you should consider taking your nose out of your books and doing something fun, aka coming to tonight’s quidditch game ;-).”

“ooh, who’s that from?” jisung asks, grabbing the note from your hands to look at it. “felix? i thought you hated that kid,” he says before handing it back to you. the three gryffindors all turn to look at you.

“i do, which is precisely why i didn’t wanna come to the game tonight. especially now—he’s gonna think i’m here because of him!” you complain. jisung laughs at this, and changbin smirks at you.

“relax, y/n, it’s gonna be fine. he’s just being nice—maybe you should give that a try. besides, the stands’ll be packed, what are the odds he’ll even see you in the crowd?” chan asks.

“besides, you’re clearly the best at taking notes, so we need you to write down what happens so we can crush ravenclaw next week. no offense,” changbin adds, and you roll your eyes at him.

“you’re lucky i love you guys,” you say as the four of you weasel your way to the front of the stands. it’s not long before you hear minho’s voice booming across the pitch as he begins announcing the game, introducing the lineup for each team. you duck into chan as the hufflepuff team flies by, not wanting to be seen by felix. he laughs and ruffles your hair before nudging you off of him.

“relax, y/n, it’s gonna be fine! look, the game’s starting—jisung and changbin, watch the ravenclaw beaters and try to figure out their tactics; i’ll watch the chasers and try to figure out their plays so we can copy them in practice,” he says, and the three gryffindor boys lean forward eagerly to watch as ravenclaw takes possession of the quaffle. your quill scribbles furiously as you listen to the boys’ commentary, taking notes so they can go over them later. you don’t really mind not being able to watch the game; you don’t really care much for the sport, plus your friends always take you out for butterbeer afterwards, so you don’t have any complaints.

“damn, felix is really good,” chan mutters, and your head snaps up at his name. you watch as felix somehow deflects a ravenclaw’s attempt at scoring—you’re not quite sure how he even managed to make it in time, but you have to admit it was impressive. as hufflepuff supporters cheer in the crowd, felix does some goofy poses on his broomstick (honestly you have no idea how he hasn’t fallen off yet).

“yeah that was a really good save—too bad he’s not a gryffindor, we could use a good keeper,” changbin adds on, and you giggle at the bitterness in his tone; last year’s keeper and captain of the gryffindor quidditch team, jaebeom, was amazing—after he graduated and appointed chan captain, chan had been left with the task of finding a keeper good enough to replace jaebeom.

“yeah, we really could,” chan says with a sigh. the game continues, the ravenclaw and hufflepuff teams fairly evenly matched and the snitch nowhere to be seen. one of the ravenclaw chasers flies right overhead, a whoosh of cold air rushing over everyone in the stands as she races away from a bludger. you shiver, cursing yourself for forgetting your hat and scarf.

“a little chilly over there?” chan says with a laugh as he wraps his scarf around your neck. the small bit of warmth is comforting, and you’re able to keep taking notes for the boys.

“and first-year seeker, hufflepuff’s yang jeongin catches the golden snitch, ending the game with a score of 210-80 for hufflepuff!” minho announces, and the crowd erupts in applause. defeated ravenclaws (you’re not one of them) and ecstatic hufflepuffs make their way from the stands back to the castle. you pass your notes to chan, who stuffs them in his robes.

“thanks again y/n, we’ll be sure to thank you when we destroy ravenclaw!!” chan says excitedly. “you coming to the three broomsticks with us?” he questions. you shake your head in response.

“nah, i’ve got a herbology test tomorrow and i’m behind on studying. bring me back some candy from honeyduke’s though!” you say, waving as you head back along the path to the castle.

you’re enjoying the quiet walk alone in the brisk autumn air; the chatter of distant groups of students mixes in with satisfying crunch of dead leaves as you shuffle along the path. the wind nips at your ears and nose, and you cozy into chan’s scarf for warmth.

“y/n, wait up!” a voice calls from behind you. you turn to see felix jogging up the path, broomstick clutched tightly in one hand while his scarf trails behind him like a kite string, the yellow and black stripes standing out against the darkening gray sky.

“oh, hi felix,” you mutter, turning around and continuing your walk. you don’t bother waiting for him to catch up, rather listening to his footsteps and breaths grow louder as he runs after you.

“you came to the game!” he says, and his freckles cheeks are rosy from the cold. his slightly breathless, and his sweaty hair is blown every which way.

“nice observation. i was only there because my friends dragged me along though, don’t get any ideas,” you tell him.

“what, you’re sure you weren’t there to watch me play?” felix teases. “only kidding; i saw you bent over your parchment the whole time. do you ever take a break from school?”

“it wasn’t for school, but yes, i take breaks. just the other day i walked up to the astronomy tower just to look at the stars, that wasn’t for school, just for fun!” you reply. felix’s eyes widen at your statement.

“really y/n? that’s your idea of fun?” he questions, shaking his head when you nod. “you need to get out more; i mean there’s nothing wrong with stargazing, but you could definitely use a little more excitement in your life. me and my friends are going to hogsmeade this weekend, you should come with us!!” he says excitedly. you don’t say anything, but you eye felix suspiciously. why on earth would he invite you, when you (admittedly) have been super rude to him?

“....okay, fine,” you find yourself agreeing—you aren’t quite sure if they’re your words or if someone put you under the imperius curse to say them, because why would you agree to spending a day with felix, your sworn enemy?

“wait, really? not gonna lie, i was expecting you to say no. well that’s good, i was gonna bribe you with chocolate frogs, but i gu—“

“i’ll still take the chocolate frogs,” you say, and you find yourself actually smiling at felix. he smiles back, but you see his smile falter slightly and his brows furrow in confusion.

“i thought you were a ravenclaw,” he says, gesturing to your scarf.

“oh i am, this is chan’s,” you mention casually. you look down at the scarf (you’d forgotten you borrowed it, to be honest), and in doing so you miss the way felix’s face falls. “i forgot to give it back.”

“oh...uh, is he, um, are you, you know….like, together?” felix asks, and the question really throws you off. you almost laugh out loud at the absurdity.

“what?? oh my god—no. definitely not. i love chan, but..no. he’s just my best friend,” you say, and you can practically see the relief wash over felix.

“ah okay, just curious,” felix says, laughing nervously. you continue walking across the grounds, almost back at the castle now. you’re still keeping your distance, but you’re no longer walking on the opposite edge of the path as felix. maybe he’s not so awful; it’s not his fault he’s better than me….no, what am i thinking? i still need to find out how he does so well. he’s perfect in school, he’s somehow amazing at quidditch, and he’s also gifted with those looks?? something doesn’t add up, you think to yourself.

“felix!! i caught the snitch!” an excited voice yells from behind you. you and felix both turn to see jeongin sprinting down the path, grinning ear to ear.

“yes!! good job out there, innie,” felix says as he beams at the younger boy, and you melt a little at the sight. “i’ll see you in class tomorrow y/n!” felix says, waving as he and jeongin head to the hufflepuff common room, leaving you to question what the strange bubbly feeling in your stomach is.

[click here for part ii!]

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robininthelabyrinth · 6 years ago

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Fic: An Internal Affair - Chapter 5(Ao3 link)

Fandom: The Flash Pairing: Leonard Snart/Barry Allen

Summary: Leonard Snart, the CCPD Captain of Internal Affairs, is known as Captain Cold for a very good reason: He hates corrupt cops with a merciless vengeance, and once you’re on his list, you’re in serious trouble.

His next target?

A CCPD lab tech named Barry Allen who’s developed a suspicious habit of disappearing at random intervals.

—————————————————————————————————

"I can't believe you sometimes, boss," Danvers complains. "You're just unbelievable."

"But Danvers," Len says, widening his eyes, "if you don't say 'I believe in Leonard Snart' and clap three times, my inner light will fade and then I'll die -"

"You are not a fairy!"

"Only technically true," Len says. "I'm pansexual, while that term is generally used -"

"You know what I mean," Danvers says, giving a playful push to his shoulder. Danvers is ridiculously strong and has issues remembering that sometimes, so the push is enough to send a lesser man toppling down to the floor. Luckily, Len figured out the strength thing pretty early and he's learned to compensate for it, relaxing his muscles and going with the flow of it, so he's able to straighten up again pretty easy.

He hasn't told Danvers that he knows, of course, since she's so obviously embarrassed by it.

Just like she's too embarrassed to admit that she's hidden a microwave somewhere in her office that she uses to heat up his coffee or hot chocolate whenever he happens to arrive, since there is no way she's good enough at guessing when he'll arrive to make sure that stuff is always warm.

He keeps trying to hint to her that he really doesn't mind microwaved coffee - especially since Danvers has a knack for making it taste freshly brewed - but she keeps looking vaguely confused whenever he brings it up.

"Yes, I know what you mean," Len allows. "And just why am I being unbelievable this time?"

"You're planning on going out again," she says, throwing her hands in the air. "With the mask and that stupid parka -"

"I’ll have you know that the parka keeps my core warm against the gun," Len points out. "Besides, it's the only winter coat I have out of storage right now."

It might be the only winter coat he owns, but that's a minor detail.

"You know the media is calling you a supervillain, right?" Danvers asks, crossing her arms.

"And by ‘media’, you mean that one specific blog, right?"

"...yes."

"That blog also thinks I derailed that train by icing the tracks," Len says, rolling his eyes. "Despite the fact that the official investigation concluded that it was a combination of a mechanical issue and human error. That one?"

Human error, of course, is a reference to the fact that the transportation department couldn’t be bothered to keep their trains in sufficiently good condition that a miniscule spot of ice – no more than a foot or two – was enough to keep the damn thing on the line.

Ice. Len can scarcely believe it, but there it is, and it at least goes some ways to explaining why the kid could have thought that Len was the one responsible for it.

Though if a train can’t run over a few feet of ice without jumping a track, there’s a problem that speaks of years of sustained incompetence anyway.

Still, whatever the reason, the derailment would have been a total catastrophe if it wasn't for the Streak - no, the blog is calling him the "Flash" now.

It makes for a troublesome dilemma. On one hand, it seems like this Flash kid is actually doing good things, like rescuing the people on that train.

On the other hand, he's still taking the law into his own hands.

Violence is still violence, even against a criminal.

Len's list of corrupt cops to take down includes a good number that seem to have forgotten that their right to be violent extends only as far as it takes to fulfill their duties and no further. When you apply the same principle to a civilian who lacks any authority or right to use violence as a means of enacting law at all -

Hmm. Alternatively, Len could just charge the Flash with multiple counts of assault and battery the next time they meet. That might even work.

"Okay, I'll bite," Len says, finally giving in to Danvers' pointed glare. "Why is it unbelievable that I’d go out again? What’s unbelievable about it?"

"Uh, the part – make that the whole thing – where you're considering getting further involved with this whole Flash thing, obviously!" Danvers says. "Boss, what part of 'the Families want to kill you' is going over your head here?"

"I'm your boss," Len mock-grumbles. "Be respectful."

"Not in a million years."

"I don't see what the problem is, though," Len says. "It’s not like I’m going totally solo on it or anything."

"Boss," Danvers says flatly. "You convinced the Commissioner that the Flash incidents represented a possible threat to the overall impression of city security because someone, somewhere, was probably following along with his exploits on secret police radios -"

"The Commissioner is running for office this year," Len says dryly. "Anyone who offered him a method to haze the Families by sending people in to investigate the illicit police radios we all know they have was going to be able to convince him of just about anything, including an invasion from Jupiter."

"True," Danvers allows. "Though to be entirely correct, that would be an invasion from the moons of Jupiter, not Jupiter, since Jupiter is a gas giant and not – wait, no, not the point I was trying to make. The point is that you also got him to agree that because there is the possibility that the Flash is working with a cop to get on the police band, thereby making it part of your jurisdiction, that meant that you could help sponsor a Flash-related task force."

"Co-sponsor," Len says. "Singh signed on."

"Yeah, to keep an eye on you."

"Noticed that, did you?" Len says, pleased. "We'll make a proper spy out of you yet."

“Aw, thanks, boss,” Danvers says with a smile, complimented, but quickly goes back to being annoyed with him. "I heard him talking about it in his office. He's not really in favor of catching the Flash - he thinks the Flash is doing more good than harm - but he's willing to back you so that he can figure out what scheme you're up to."

"My reputation precedes me, clearly."

"Boss..."

"Relax. I'm one step ahead of him - he offered me Joe West to be on my team, which is pretty obvious sabotage given how much West obviously hates me; I told him I'd take Eddie Thawne instead. Since they're partners, he wasn't really in a position to refuse, and Thawne's a good kid."

"Coming from you, that's high honors," Danvers says, but she's smiling again.

"You're not bad yourself," Len says, smirking when she squeaks and blushes. "Your compilation of weird incidents with multiple uncoordinated eye-witness reports was key to convincing the Commissioner that there was something there worth checking out."

"It's my job, boss," she says, grinning.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not part of a secretary’s job.”

“Admin assistant, boss.”

"Well, while we’re at it, thanks for letting me borrow that mask," Len says. "Turned out there were some Family guys looking for me that night." His contracts had been very specific about that, since D'Angelo let slip he'd be meeting with Len, but it’d been a risk Len was willing to take.

"Made you borrow it, more like it," Danvers sniffs. "I can't believe you were just going to - to go out with your face just, like, right out there in the open - it's like you never even read a comic book -"

"I'm not actually a supervillain," Len reminds her, deeply amused. Danvers could probably take over the world if she found herself in a world that worked on comic book logic instead of real world logic. "I'm not doing anything illegal; I'm just policing in a creative and out-of-the-box way –”

Danvers snorts.

“–and meeting my community’s needs in dealing with a vigilante like that,” Len continues, cheerfully ignoring her. “Anyway, the mask was perfect - total anonymity without any obstruction of function. Why'd you have it lying around, anyway?"

Danvers turns red and starts spluttering something incoherent, which means it's one of those things she's weirdly embarrassed about.

It's like how she claims she takes the train to work, but manages to be there on time even when Len knows there's been a massive train delay.

Honestly, he has no idea what's going on in Danvers' brain sometimes. It's not like there's a stigma against carpooling or anything...

"Never mind, don't care," Len interrupts, waving a hand, and Danvers looks at him gratefully.

They talked about it, once, all these unusual reactions that she has, the way she gets flustered and evasive about the weirdest things. She'd come into his office late at night, jaw clenched with determination and fists shaking with anxiety, and offered to explain it all to him, because she didn't want him to think she was lying to him. He was, she explained, her only friend in Central City, and she was pretty sure she was his in return right at that moment, and she didn't want him to start suspecting her of betraying him by keeping secrets.

He'd taken one look at her, seen all of that anxiety and how she was forcing herself to take a step she clearly didn't want to take but felt she had to, and he'd promptly told her that he didn't care if she was a little green man from Mars as long as she did her job and didn't sell him out.

She'd stared at him blankly, so he'd explained: she very obviously didn't want to tell him whatever it was she was offering to tell him, not yet and maybe not ever; rather, she just felt that she had to. But Len doesn't believe in outing people over anything before they're ready, so whatever it was she felt she had to tell him, she could tell him whenever she really wanted to. If she was more comfortable with him not asking, well, then he wouldn’t ask - as long as whatever it was didn’t involve him getting sold out, which he was pretty sure it didn’t, then he honestly didn’t care.

Of course, then she'd burst into tears and Len had hidden under his desk in an attempt to get away from the rampant display of emotions, yelling all the while that he would add a no tears clause to her contract, which had the side effect of making her start to laugh even as she'd cried.

Ultimately, she'd decided she really wasn't ready yet, but that she thought she might be, eventually, and they'd gone from there.

To be perfect honest, Danvers has always been something of a mystery, right from the first time they'd met. At first Len assumed it was because she wasn't from Central - Danvers is from the area around National City, some small town in the outskirts, and she'd done some work there in various administrative assistant roles before she'd abruptly moved to Central only a few months before Len discovered and hired her away from the court reporter temp pool she'd been working in.

At that point, all he'd cared about was finding someone who wasn't very obviously a spy planted by either the Families or the other police departments. Danvers had been the court reporter at his first corruption trial; she'd been fast (she had to be, being a court reporter), efficient, unafraid of the Family connections of the cop on trial, and had trouble hiding her smirks when Len made a particularly snarky comment.

More importantly, she had a clean background – as far as he’s concerned, anyway; he hadn't quite gotten used to working legit at that time, since he'd been less than two weeks out of the hospital and spitting mad, so he'd just had those of his illegal contacts that hadn't heard the news check her out and confirm that there wasn’t anything criminal about her - and anyway Len got along with her the few times he'd dragged her into various conference rooms to do some freelance transcribing of plea deal negotiations and deposition testimony.

So he'd decided to take a gamble and asked her if she'd like a thankless job saving the city where everyone would take her achievements for granted and turn up their noses in disdain at her failures, plus a small pay increase and shitty health care.

Amazingly, even with a pitch as awful as that, she accepted.

Apparently, Danvers enjoys fighting the good fight for barely any reward.

That, or she really needed the steady paycheck.

Len honestly doesn’t care which.

It’d been a little rocky at the start, but they got used to each other over time. Len's an abrasive asshole and doesn't know how to use the services of a secretary, but Danvers spends half the time acting like she's invulnerable and the other half acting like she’s afraid she’s going to break everything just by breathing on it, and that’s also pretty annoying. Luckily, after some encouragement, it turned out that she had the guts to stand up to him and call him out when he’s on his bullshit, and ever since then they’ve worked well together.

Now Len likes to think that they’ve even become friends.

Danvers even eventually opened up a bit about her history.

Apparently, her abrupt shift from National to Central had followed a pretty terrible blow-up with her sister and mother. Danvers hadn't given all that many details, but from what little she'd said, Len gathers that the sister had accepted a position based on some trait of Danvers' that Danvers would have preferred to keep quiet, a position that involved using Danvers as a case study, and Danvers hadn't taken it well when she'd found out.

"I know exactly what you mean - fucking shrinks," Len told her after that particular confession, nodding vigorously. They'd been having drinks in his office at the time, since the last time they'd gone out to a bar some Family grunt had pulled a gun on Len and Danvers had managed to get in between the guy and Len. Luckily, the gun jammed or maybe the guy missed, but either way nobody seemed like they’d gotten hit with a bullet, and Len hit the guy over the head with his crutch, but he'd decided not to risk Danvers doing something that stupid again. "Just because you ain’t neurotypical makes 'em think that they can push you around. S'like they totally forget that you’ve got feelings, or at least they pretend to themselves that you wouldn't care about that type of shit at all just ‘cause you’re different. Mick had one of those - a foster mom that adopted him because she wanted to write a paper about pyromania. He liked her right up until he figured out that she just wanted his cooperation so she could do more observations. Never even occurred to her to think about how he'd feel when he found out she used him to get ahead in her career."

Danvers, halfway into a bottle of tequila and a pint of Ben and Jerry's, giggled a little hysterically. "Yes," she said. "That, it’s like that exactly. I never thought there'd be a parallel – but yes. That. It's just like that. She's my sister, you know? She should be on my side, not – not using me to get, I don’t know, up an extra step on the ladder!"

"Hell yeah," Len said solemnly, clinking glasses with her. He wondered a little what unique trait Danvers had that her sister had tried to take advantage of – some form of autism, maybe? ADHD? He’d heard that manifested differently for girls, and anyway it made sense given how she clearly had some sensory processing issues, hearing things louder than he did and flinching at relatively mild sounds and sometimes getting overwhelmed by emotions, not to mention the way she sometimes didn’t quite get certain basic social conventions – but he wasn’t going to ask or anything; that’d be seriously rude. After all, he certainly didn’t care what she had as long as she kept doing her job, and he was pretty sure by now that she knew that if she needed any accommodations, she only needed ask for them and he'd do everything in his power to get it done.

He did make a mental note to see if she’d like some more pillows to go next to her desk for her to fidget with, though. She liked those.

"And she even made it out like she was just doing it to protect me!" Danvers exclaimed. "But if she was, she would've asked, right? She wouldn't have lied about what she was doing. She wouldn't have - she wasn't ever planning on telling me. Not ever! I only found out because I was looking for where I'd hidden her birthday present and we've always used the same hiding spots and I found a file. On me. Who even does that?!"

"Bullshit," Len agreed. "Total bullshit."

"And then Mom got involved and she was just pissed off about Alex's job, not about the fact that she was studying me, except it turns out that when Alex gets frustrated, she blames me for taking up all the attention and, like, I don't know, ruining her life by making her not an only child or something stupid like that. And – and – and while we were all blowing up about that, it turned out that mom's also been lying to us – both of us – for literally years about what happened to Dad – about how he died – and then Alex starts blaming me about it because the trouble all started after I got adopted -"

“Ouch. Below the belt.”

“I know! And – and what’s the worst part, you know – they’d always been on my case about being ‘normal’. Both of them. Normal, normal, normal, normal, until I was ready to scream, and the whole time they both know so much more than what they were telling me – and taking advantage of the fact that I’m not normal – and it’s just not fair!”

Her lip was trembling again.

"To shitty families," Len said, raising his glass. He'd already told her about his dad, since he wanted her to be on the look-out in case Lewis reared his ugly head anywhere near Len's new job, and she'd been great about not blatantly pitying him too much about it. One of the reasons he liked her so much. "And the lies they tell."

After a minute, he added, "Lowercase 'f'."

"Uppercase 'f' Families lie too," Danvers pointed out.

"They're not who we're toasting. C'mon, don't leave me hanging."

Danvers giggled and clinked glasses with him. “I still miss them, you know,” she added. “I think I’d have forgiven them, eventually, if I’d stayed. Probably way earlier than I really should have. Like, five minutes later.”

“Socialization and habit,” Len says solemnly. “Heard it’s worse for girls; you’re raised to be all forgiving and shit, yeah?”

“Yeah, basically. That, plus, you know, I did always feel guilty about how I just showed up on their doorstep, so I’ve always kinda tried to play the peace-maker, you know?”

“That’s the habit half of the equation.”

“Yeah…anyway, I probably would’ve found a reason to forgive and forget and everything, but, ugh, I was just so angry. I just – I was in between jobs at the time, too. I mean, I had an interview scheduled the next day with CatCo Worldwide Media as Cat Grant’s personal assistant. No guarantee I’d get it, of course. But there was like this moment where I realized that if I was fighting with my family then, well, I didn’t really have anything keeping me there. In National City, I mean. So I just packed a bunch of my stuff and flew away. Ended up at a hotel in Central.”

“Tell me you didn’t use your credit card.”

“I’m pretty sure that particular hotel didn’t even accept cards,” Danvers said dryly. She was familiar enough with Central City’s extremely shitty hospitality scene now for it to be a joke, though Len suspected it hadn't been when she first arrived. “It wasn’t exactly good quality, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, do I ever.”

“Anyway, I was still steaming angry the next morning, so I pulled a bunch of cash out of my account, canceled all my cards, got myself that temp job as a court reporter, and grabbed the first apartment that came on the market, and, well, by the time I calmed down enough to start feeling guilty about our fight, I was pretty well rooted here and wasn’t really in the mood to go back to National and be the first one to forgive. Again.”

“Totally reasonable.”

“They haven’t even apologized, you know,” Danvers said, draining her glass again. She had the alcohol tolerance of a mule. Len was just drunk enough at this point – thank God he isn’t macho enough to think he needed to match her shot-to-shot or else he’d be dead – to think about how much Mick would enjoy that quality of hers when-if he woke up. “I reached out to them eventually and they just started worrying about me being all on my own in a big city, how will I be able to handle it on my own, is this going to make it hard for me to stay normal without support, yadda, yadda, stupid yadda, and when I pointed out that I was still really angry at them, they just, I don’t know, wanted me to get over it - they even got my cousin to come try to, quote, talk some sense into me, end quote.”

“Rude.”

“They keep comparing me to him,” Danvers added bitterly. “He’s much better at being normal.”

“Ain’t he some sort of weirdo Pulitzer-prize winning investigative journalist that works almost exclusively in Third World countries where there ain’t no modern internet?” Len asks skeptically. “That ain’t exactly what I’d call normal.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t really come back to America much anymore,” Danvers says with a shrug. “And when he does, he avoids cities whenever possible, even though he used to want to go work in a big paper in Metropolis. He even had a job offer from the Daily Planet! His original set of foster parents would’ve wanted him to take it, but they died and he came to live with – well, with my family – and they all convinced him it’d be too much for him, so in the end he didn’t take it. He’s – he’s like me. Not normal. But apparently it’s okay to not be normal as long as you do it where no one can see you or report you or something like that.”

“Wow,” Len said. “What fucking assholes. I hope he told you to carry on.”

Danvers grinned. “He told me to do what I thought was right, no matter what anyone said. And that’s when I signed a year-long lease – not on the first apartment I snagged, don’t worry, I’m in a much better area of town now –”

Good, Len was about to ask.

“– and also changed my phone number so my mom and my sister would stop harassing me at work.” She drained another glass. “And that’s why we’re still not talking. Not until I decide that I’m ready to talk to them again.”

“I don’t recall them harassing you at work,” Len said.

“I mostly ran out the back to take their calls,” Danvers said. “The one time they tried to call you instead of me, you’d just come back from PT and were super grouchy, so you told them that you would bring the full force of the FBI on their asses for wire fraud if they didn’t fuck right off.”

Len – vaguely remembered that. He’d thought they were telemarketers or possibly evangelists.

“Don’t worry,” Danvers added, grinning. “I appreciated it.”

It was a good night, even if Len distinctly remembers getting increasingly drunk as it went on (Kara didn’t, but again she has that ridiculous metabolism) and telling her about the first time he met Mick and some other unnecessarily soppy stories about him.

Either way, though, that background made Danvers understandably touchy about people who lied to close friends and family – and that, in turn, made Len feel more like he could trust her…

"Mask or no mask, I still don't like the idea of you going out in person, you know," Danvers says, snapping Len out of his reverie. "You're still fragile."

Len makes a face at her. He would love to dispute that, but he used his new braces for less than two hours yesterday, just for the not-really-maybe-kinda-sorta-masked-supervillain-superhero-confrontation-thing, and he's already got cramps very nearly everywhere to show for it.

Fucking bullet wounds. Hollywood is a filthy liar when it comes to recovery time, especially for ones that nick your spine.

Actually, that reminds him that he needs to call Lisa again – she’s still incredibly pissed off at him for getting hurt after having promised time and time again that he’d be fine doing his thing and that getting her the money to go off and live straight was worth the risk.

She refuses to see him again until he’s better, even though she demands regular phone calls. He knows it’s irrational, she knows it’s irrational, but he can’t begrudge her whatever superstitions she relies on as coping mechanisms to deal with a father as awful as Lewis and a brother as reckless as Len, even though he does miss her.

"You could always let the beat cops do their jobs," Danvers continues, sounding almost wistful about it even when she knows there's no chance. As it happens, she and Lisa get along great, albeit only by text message. "It's what they do, you know. Especially if this Eddie guy's good..."

"And miss out on the adrenaline?" Len asks, arching his eyebrows at her. "No, seriously. I can't step back now; I sold the Commissioner on me supervising this personally, and Singh only agreed to back me once I specified that I'd take the fall if anything blew up in our faces - which it won't, even if we do find that this Flash guy is up to no good -"

Danvers makes a face. Subtly - it's barely a wrinkle in her nose - but Len still catches it and interprets it.

"You have news," Len says, interrupting himself. He knows all of Danvers’ tells. "Tell me the news."

"It's not definite yet," Danvers demurs, but Len's already waving off the disclaimer.

"I'd take initial results from you over a definitive say-so from any cop in this division, Eddie Thawne included," Len tells her when she seems resistant to continuing. "I'll keep in mind that it's preliminary. What's up?"

"There’s been a noticeable increase in missing persons reports in Central since the Particle Accelerator explosion, for one thing," Danvers says. "Noticeable. Even if we only track the period since the Flash has been known to be active, there's - well - a lot. More than usual."

"Correlation doesn't mean causation."

"Do I teach you to pick pockets? No? Then don't lecture me on statistics. I'm getting to the point. The point is: I've correlated instances of people seeing blurs of light or lightning with those missing persons' reports, and there's a link."

Len straightens up at that. "How much of a link?"

Damn, and he'd really been starting to think of the Flash as harmless, or at least starting to hope that he'd gotten to the kid before he started letting his worst instincts take over. But if he's already a murderer...

"No deaths," Danvers says, clearly divining his thoughts from his face. "Just weirdo disappearances - sometimes of people who'd already gone partway off the grid already, even. But we're talking eyewitnesses putting the Flash - or someone like him - at ground zero of some of these disappearances. We're talking credit card purchases stopping the day after a Flash sighting in some guy's last known vicinity."

"Damnit."

"Yeah," she says with a sigh. "I was really hopeful, you know?"

"You were hopeful about the Hood guy in Starling before the murders started, too."

"This one seemed nicer," Danvers says firmly. "Less intimidation, less judgment, less 'you failed this city' –” Len will never tell her, but Danvers cannot do a spooky intimidating voice to save her life. “– more actually stopping crimes by dumping perps at the station door."

"Thereby eliminating the link between them and the crime scene and letting them plead out on technicalities," Len says dryly. "Remember that jewel shop case? If we hadn't had camera evidence from the CCTV, we'd be up the creek and the perps in question would be free as songbirds. And remember, like I told you -"

"Just because he's going after criminals doesn't mean he's not just trying to take out the competition," Danvers recites. "I know, I know."

"Good. You got anything else for me?"

Danvers makes another face. "We-ell..."

"Danvers."

She sighs. "Okay, but one question first."

Len arches his eyebrows at her.

"Is there any chance you're going to be so focused on this Flash thing that you'll ditch the Allen investigation? Because in comparison, Allen is really small stuff -"

"None," Len interrupts. He knows his voice has gone a bit icy. "Allen's corrupt; I'm sure of it. It's just a matter of proving it."

"But you actually like him!"

"I like lots of people -"

"Please remember who you're talking to here," Danvers says dryly. "I know for a fact that you don't like people. Any people. Your list of people you do like can probably be counted on the fingers of a man who’s had a few cut off - and I'm including your regular information contacts that you don't actually like on that list."

Len makes a face at her. Sadly, she's not wrong.

Worse, he reaches the same conclusion even after adding Barry Allen to the list of people he likes.

"You're usually better at prioritizing your investigations, that's all," Danvers adds, apologetically. "I just - it's pretty obvious that the only reason you're going after Allen is, well, you know..."

"I've got a few more investigations already up and running," Len points out, feeling a little guilty. She's not wrong about his reasons. She's also not wrong about the fact that in a normal situation, he wouldn't have thought Allen's bizarre brand of hard-to-spot corruption was bad enough to get this obsessed over. Especially not once he found out how unbelievably friendly and bright and funny Allen is...shit, Danvers is right. Len really needs to figure out how to make more friends. Not to mention how to get a real date rather than whatever-it-is he has with Allen on Friday. "The DAs already have enough info to take three corrupt cops out of active duty, which they have, and I've given them enough to get wiretapping warrants out on another three -"

Central's so goddamn corrupt.

It's a good thing Len knows how to play the system and make sure the occasional corrupt DA that gets assigned one of his cases is either scared into working it straight or that the case they get involves corruption by an opposing Family, so they’re incentivized to press on, because otherwise he wouldn't have enough DAs to handle all of the cases he's feeding them – and all the while he’s building a body of law that he’ll one day use to take the corrupt DAs down, too...

"- so all in all, they're actually pretty happy that I'm taking some time to do my own projects, like Allen and the Flash," Len concludes. "Hell, Singh definitely thinks I’m up to something, and even he’s relieved that I’ve taken up some ‘normal’ policing instead of harassing his officers left and right. I've got the time to do both of 'em and I intend to. Now, why do you ask?"

"But you’re so cute about him," Danvers grumbles. "It's not fair."

"What ain't fair, Danvers?" Len’s not touching that.

"The comms system the Flash uses," Danvers says, finally giving in. "The one we couldn’t hack into? I've managed to triangulate where the other end of the signal originates."

"You did? That's great!"

"And I think I've located those people you gave me sketches of," she adds, nodding at her desk. "Though next time you go out, I'm equipping you with cameras - your artistic ability definitely lies in blueprints, not portraits."

"Next time I go out Flash-hunting, I'll have official CCPD backing rather than implied," Len says with a shrug. "You can put all the cameras you like on me then. You've tracked them all down?"

"Yep."

“And they’re associated with the same place the signal comes from?”

“Yep.”

"And that is - where?"

Danvers sighs. "I think - and no absolute guarantee, but I’m moderately sure – that the other end of that signal came from STAR Labs."

Len freezes.

STAR Labs.

Technically defunct after the Accelerator explosion, property of the now disgraced solitary genius Harrison Wells, and private "clinic" of only one patient: Barry Allen.

Of course.

"He's in on it," Len says, starting to get angry. "Allen. He's involved with whatever the hell new Family unit Wells must be trying to put together or whatever’s going on there. Allen's using his CSI skills to help get this Flash guy to would-be crime scenes - figuring out where their rivals are and sending the Flash to set them up - or, worse, covering up the disappearances and murders the Flash has already set up -"

At least the existence of this law-breaking Flash kid means that there's still hope that Allen hasn't moved into full assassin territory yet. If he hasn't crossed the line to targeted murder, then Len can make sure his sentence isn't too bad - some minimal prison time, maybe, definitely a lengthy parole period, and of course he'll never work in the police again, but at least Len won't have to think about smiling, friendly Allen locked behind bars for years and years, having his spirit crushed under the abusive steel boots of the prison guards...

"Certainly seems like it," Danvers agrees, glumly disappointed. She'd really been hoping for Allen to be clean, Len knows. "But it's still just a guess, boss. I don't have anywhere near enough for a warrant, either on the Flash stuff or Allen."

"Looks like Friday's still on, then," Len says. He's going to find out everything he can about what scheme Wells and Allen and this ‘Flash’ are cooking up in STAR Labs, and he's going to put a stop to it. He reaches out to grab his crutch, using it to lever himself up.

"Where are you going?" Danvers asks with a frown. "It's not Friday yet."

"Different lead," Len assures her. "Same endpoint. You want anything from Jitters?"

"Cupcake," Danvers says immediately. "Like, four of them. Oooh, and one of those crullers. You owe me sugar. So much sugar. In the meantime, I'll go back to putting together that list of sightings for you. I know I said the preliminary list was all I was going to do, but I swear I think there's something weird there and I want to follow it up."

"I trust you," Len says again. He likes saying it: he almost never did, for most of his life. He's trying to be better about it now so that he'll be able to say what he needs to say to Mick when (if) he wakes up. "Let me know if anything new comes up."

With that, he heads over to Jitters. It's late, but his contact was busy during the day and late evening was the earliest time that she would agree to meet with him.

Better yet, she's already there when he arrives, typing away on her laptop.

Len makes his way over and settles down in the seat across from her.

"Miss West," he says with his best charm-the-marks smirk fixed firmly on his face. "Thanks for agreeing to meet with me. Big fan of your blog..."

#coldflash #leonard snart #barry allen #kara danvers #iris west #an internal affair #my fic

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onecrazysquirrel · 3 years ago

Text

Well they're in, they are sleeping on the living room floor slumber party style from what she told me; no carpet in the bedrooms, she assured me they would be alright for awhile until we're able to get them beds. I'm praying for sooner rather than later. They had cold cuts and potato salad for dinner I was told because she needs pots and pans. I'd imagine they're probably about tired of sandwiches, I would suggest like a lasagna but I'm guessing she's not trying to blow the budget. Need to get her microwave so she can fix quick meals and a toaster oven because she apparently uses it a lot, I turned away from Facebook Marketplace and researched online instead (yes I googled it) we can get them a brand new toaster oven for twenty bucks at Walmart and a brand new microwave for fifty so for roughly seventy five to eighty dollars she would have her two main appliances. Coffee makers aren't that expensive so that should be easy to come up with and who knows she might have developed a preference for instant by now, I only drink instant most of the time it's not that I'm opposed to brewed coffee it's just that I've developed a taste for this coffee over the years I prefer it as I'm waking up, now don't get me wrong I will drink whatever swill is available when it comes to my morning cup but I use mine and rather like it; If I remember correctly momma drinks the same brand, it's well known though I won't call off any names. Back to the point, basically for a hundred dollars we can get all their kitchen appliances; she will be taking clothes to the Laundromat for the time being so we're not even looking into washers and dryers at this point. A vacuum cleaner they really range in price and some people get really picky about them, I haven't had any conversations with momma about vacuums yet I don't know if she prefers an upright or what; I'm guessing she's just be happy to be able to vacuum the floors, I don't want to jump to conclusions though. I'd like to get her some nice not expensive but not cheap either silverware and a nice set of dishes, I think for lack of a better idea these would make good Christmas gifts for her she's only worried about the child having a Christmas morning I think she deserves one also. That leaves me four days minus sleep and working hours to gather the funds purchase them and wrapping stuff, get them wrapped and delivered by Christmas eve well it could happen. I believe in miracles so why not?

We really need to focus on her brakes. I got an estimate but I want them to actually look at it and then give me an estimate not tell me it sounds like and should cost. So maybe I need to get her to take it to the shop and have them look at it, I can always check with my buddy's son and see if they got a new brake guy yet; that's on the agenda for the immediate future at least, can't have the brakes go out with a baby in the car.

But the big news of the morning its that they are spending their first night at home.

So good morning dearly beloved friends and family, I pray that you are well and that the Lord blesses your hearts and mind with his holy presence. It is 2:40 AM in Dayton Ohio 28° real feel 32° high of 43° low of 26°, I pray that our street people are somewhere safe and warm this morning; I know there aren't too many twenty four hour places open anymore that really cramps some styles I'm sure, I used to sit in a twenty four hour place when it got too unbearably cold to be outside. I'll never forget the people that worked there they took care of me in spite of my situation. Since Covid twenty four hour joints close around midnight leaving nowhere literally for a homeless person who couldn't get into the shelter to go, it's very sad really; I'm sure there are many who would disagree with me, but I've lived the life. I already know how hard it used to be this just takes it to another level, homelessness was an epidemic in our nation long before Covid became a pandemic; the Covid pandemic just gives people one more excuse to mistreat our homeless, homeless people were already looked down on. Thank you to my readers for not seeing just another homeless guy or girl or family. Thank you for your spiritual support and strength. We really appreciate your prayers and the love that you pour out out way. Thank you and God bless you...

If you would like to contribute and bypass the fees and processing time that it takes using this site please use one of the following methods. Try it using my code and you’ll get $5. CCRMRMW

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Note "Family" for bills or "Gifts" for Christmas

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deadsy-doodle-blog · 7 years ago

Photo

PUNK ROCK RUINED MY LIFE

SECTION NINE

The next few days were slow, and Grim drudged the week he’d be out of school staying with his mother. He got home from school that Wednesday and packed his bag with some clothes for a week and the gift he had for his little sister. His mother soon showed up with Sara. His mother was dressed in a sweater that was a hint see through and some very tight leggings and her biggest hoop earrings, he rolled his eyes not thinking that she had changed at all. Grim threw his stuff into the back seat of her car and sat in the front seat with his arms folded. Sara was already sitting in the back, excited to see her brother as their mom was talking to their grandmother for a few moments.

“Has mom been better lately?” he asked his little sister looking straight forward.

“Yeah. We go places sometimes, she takes me out with her and get food.” She said happily.

“Good.” He said as his mother came toward the car. She got in and started it. She backed out of the driveway slowly and turned the car toward the road to the highway to go to their small trailer park.

“Mrs. Hannaway asked me if you could shovel her driveway and steps when we get home.” She said looking at Grim.

“I always used to.” He said shrugging.

“Ours too.” She said in addition.

“Why don’t you just salt it?” Grim asked as the snow started to fall and the storm brewed.

“That’s too expensive.” She said shaking her head.

“Not really, you can get it for like ten bucks at the grocery store.” He said shaking his head.

“That’s a nice coat.” His mother said looking at him and sort of grabbing at the fabric on his sleeve spattered in multiple stains and patches.

“I’ve always had this.” He said with a glare at her. She released a tired sigh and pulled a cigarette out and lit it up, rolling her window down and steering simultaneously. They were silent on the rest of the car ride until they got home. Grim went next door to the trailer house the old woman lived in and asked to borrow her shovel. He quickly shoveled the snow from her walkway and driveway, then did the driveway and stairs of his mother’s trailer. Once it was dark Grim’s nose was running and his fingers were numb but the snow was shoveled aside. He returned the shovel and walked back home with a plate of cookies and hot chocolate mix in return.

“Jesus it’s freezing in here.” He said taking his coat off moments after walking into his childhood hell hole.

“Buck up.” His mother said as she was putting her own on and grabbing her keys.

“Where are you going?” Grim asked.

“Out, gotta get more smokes, and I’ll bring back some food.” She said heading out the door. Sara sat on the couch with her worn out blanket bundled up around her.

“Let’s turn up the heater a little. This is bull shit.” He said rolling the sleeves of his long sleeve up and messing with the thermostat. He listened for a while, not hearing it turn on.“Fucking pilot’s out.” He said in a grumble going to the kitchen to find some matches. He stuck a few and finally lit the pilot and the heat started to fill the house.

“Sara, you don’t need to sit in the dark.” He said turning the lamp light on. She looked cold still. “Go get your pajamas on.” Grim said to her kindly. “I’ll make you some hot chocolate.” She excitedly left the room as Grim went into the kitchen and heated up some water in the microwave while he also brewed some coffee.

Sara came and sat on the floor in the kitchen with her worn out teddy bear, which used to be Grim’s. She was wearing one of his old shirts from when he was a kid. He handed an old mug full of sweet chocolate with marshmallows to her and poured himself some coffee in his own. He sipped it black and sat on the floor with his sister. “It’s gonna get better.” He said sweetly to her, hugging her shoulder.

“I’m okay.” She said softly.

“sis, I’m sorry I left you. I just hope that mom’s been able to provide for you better now that I’m gone.” He said looking at her.

“You make her mad. She’s always stressed out.” The seven year old said to her older brother. “She said you ran away because you hate us.” She said looking sad.

“I don’t hate you. I just don’t have any respect for mom. She doesn’t have any self control. She seems better now. I thought maybe if I wasn’t here to cost money and do all of the work for her she might step up a little.” He said. Sara got up and went into the front room with her hot chocolate.“Does she still bring guys home?” Grim asked.

“Sometimes. She drinks a lot more now.” She said looking saddened again.

“Is she mean to you?” Grim asked.

“No.” she said shaking her head.

“She was mean to me, I think it’s because I look like my dad.” He said.

“Grim, who is our dad?” she asked looking at his green eyes from over her mug.

“Sara, we have different dads. I don’t know who mine is at all, mom’s been with too many guys to know for sure.” He said honestly.

“Why doesn’t he live with us?” she asked. “We’d be better with a mom and a dad.” She said confused. “All the other kids in my class have both.” She said a little frustrated.

“Sis, they probably don’t even know we exist.” He said honestly, seeing some tears well up in her eyes.

“You’re lying!” she said getting emotional. “Mom said you’re a liar!” she said getting up and storming off to her room.

“Sara, you don’t understand!” Grim yelled at her as she fled the conversation.

“you’re a liar! My dad is going to come and everything will be okay!” she yelled. Grim stormed up to her room livid that his mother was brainwashing his little sister against him while he was gone.

“I am not a liar! Our dads don’t even know we were born because our mother is so much of a fucking whore that she probably doesn’t even remember who knocked her up in the first place! She probably couldn’t tell you who your dad even is! He’s not coming to be a part of this family, because we are not a family!” Grim said going red in the face as he screamed. Sara was crying hysterically on her bed now.

“I thought that’s how babies were born, when people love each other.” She bawled.

“Mom doesn’t know what love is. We were only born because sex feels good, Sara. That’s the only reason. We are both accidents in mom’s life. We weren’t planned.” He said trying to calm down, taking deep breaths to try and soothe that familiar pounding in his ears of a stress headache. He breathed deeply for a moment as Sara stared into space. He huffed out and ran his hand through his long hair. He looked behind his shoulder and walked into the room. He shut the door and sat on her bed. “Sar, do you understand where babies come from?” he asked her.

“People love each other and…I don’t know.” She said looking frustrated.

“Don’t tell mom that I told you, in fact don’t tell anyone. I just want you to understand why I said all of that.” He said to his baby sister. She curled up in a ball in her blanket, not wanting to look at him.

“People don’t need to love each other to have a baby.” He started calmly. “Babies come from having sex.” He said holding his head in his hands, embarrassed. She jumped at the word, knowing it was bad, she looked up at his uncomfortable face. “Do you know what it is?” Grim asked. She hesitantly shook her head no. “they get naked and do stuff, they kind of mix different germs and sometimes it makes a baby grow inside the girl.”

“But aren’t germs on everything?” she asked more confused.

“yeah, but these are kind of special kind. They have to put their body parts together to mix them…” he said starting to look mortified. She looked at him confused still. He groaned and looked up at the ceiling in frustration “Okay, you know boys and girls are different, right?” he asked, she nodded. “The boy parts have to go inside the girl parts.” He explained with his fist and finger. She looked horrified. Probably scarred for life, but at least its better coming from him than their mother, he thought.

“for christ’s sake.” He said wiping his forehead. “That’s how it works, it feels really good and mom does it for fun, not for love.” He said shaking his head. “Those guys she brings home all of the time, that’s what they’re doing in her room.” He said scratching his neck.

“So, she made us for fun, not because she wanted us?” Sara asked looking tearful again.

“Yeah, Sarah. She’s an addict to that feeling, and I’m sure she cares about us and all, but that’s why we don’t have a dad. She doesn’t want to be married or with the same person for very long.” He said biting his lip with his brows raised, hoping that she could understand a little better now. He heard the door slam out in the front room.

“Don’t tell.” Grim said looking at her with stern wide eyes. She nodded her head and followed him out of her room. Grim grabbed his coffee from the table and took a sip.

Their mother was sitting a bottle of tequila on the counter with three Styrofoam boxes, a six pack, and she tapped a new pack of smokes on her wrist as she threw her keys down.

“looks like you went on a real fuckin spree.” He said nudging Sara to take some food. She lit her cigarette and smiled.

“Sure as hell did. We’re getting trashed tonight.” She said taking a long puff from the cigarette.

“Oh god, how can you do that? Smoke before eating tacos then chasing it with tequila? What the fuck?” he said taking his box from the stack.

“I’m a hard bitch.” She laughed.

“Sé que eres una perra.” Grim said with a roll of his tongue as he was getting a fork. She pushed the ash end of her cigarette on his hand. “What the fuck, mom?” he asked jumping away.

“Don’t talk to me like that. You should be grateful, you little asshole. Did your grandma teach you that?” She said getting a shot glass down, Grim’s gray ears pinned back to his mop of hair as he left the room quietly. They ate in silence watching television. After a while Sara went to bed and Grim sat on the shabby loveseat as his mother was curled up on the couch.

“I see you got the pilot to light.” She said as the heater kicked on.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Grim asked edgily.

“I could ask you the same.” She said glaring up at him.

“No really, what is it about me that you hate so god damn much?” he asked.

“You’re a mean, back talking, condescending little prick with a god complex.” She said taking a shot of tequila and grimacing.

“I mean before that.” Grim said brushing her insults off.

“What do you mean? You’ve always been a dick.” She asked.

“Even as a kid you treated me like shit. Burning me with your cigarettes, yelling at me when I didn’t do anything, what the hell?” he asked. She stayed quiet for a moment, and nervously took a drink again. “I have a right to know. You don’t treat Sara like this thank god. Is it because of my dad?” he asked.

“You don’t know your dad.” She said drinking the last of her glass. She got up and brought the bottle and another shot glass out. She sat it in front of Grim and poured him a shot. He looked at her oddly. “What? You already drink anyway, why not at home?” she asked taking the rest of the shot she was sipping.

“Answer my question.” He said picking up the glass and slamming it down his throat.

“I told you, you have no idea who he is.” She said turning the channel.

“Yeah, but you did.” He said looking at her as he poured more into his glass.

“He was abusive.” She said looking up at him after a long pause of silence. Grim stayed soundless for a few moments, taken by surprise that she was actually going to talk to him.

“One night stand, right? Who cares, he was a little rough.” Grim said shrugging.

“No, Grim, your father was my last real relationship. He wasn’t a hook up, he was my boyfriend for a year and a half.” She said more seriously.

“So, what did he know about me? Did he leave? Did he hurt you?” he asked.

“We broke up because he was abusive, he stalked me and would follow me after that. I had restraining orders and everything and he still found ways to mentally abuse me. He’d send me letters, and watch my house…and one night he followed me at night and raped me.” She said shaking a bit. Grim stayed silent and looked at the floor. “I wanted an abortion, but I couldn’t afford it, and my mother begged me.” She said holding her arm. She took a gulp of her drink. Grim poured himself some more. They stayed silent for a long time.

“I remind you of him.” Grim said quietly.

“You do. You look just like him, you sound just like him, and every time I look at you I remember all of that pain I went though and how scared I was. I was forced to give birth to my rapist’s child.” She said quietly.

“Do you know how unfair that is to me?” Grim uttered in her stillness. “Right from the beginning, all you have felt for me is hate for the fault of another guy.” He said shaking his head.

“I never meant to. It’s just so hard.” Tears ran down her face into her glass.

“Oh yeah, real fucking hard to learn not to hit your kid, or burn them, or remember to feed them.” He said ragefully bubbling up again. He got up and walked to his room.

“Grim.” She said quietly.

“No, go fuck yourself.” He said shutting his door. He rolled up on his bed and sobbed for a bit. The tequila fueled the flow of his tears, the salty taste a reminder of all of the shit going through his mind. He stayed in his room until around noon the following day.

His mother pushed his door open quietly as he was sleeping and sat beside him on the bed. She touched his arm softly, he jumped, startled.

“What are you doing in my room?” he asked pushing away from her

“It’s my house, technically it’s my room.” She said defensively.

“what do you want?” he asked with his heavy eyelids hanging low in misery and dry from hours of alcohol exaggerated tears and a hangover.

“I just wanted to check on you, make sure you’re okay.” She said looking meek.

“I’m fine.” He said coldly. She looked around the room sadly.

“I guess you’ll want to take this stuff with you when I take you back.” She said quietly looking around the room, places where he had torn wallpaper off, his posters plastered crooked on the walls.

“Yeah, I guess.” He said quietly.

“I didn’t mean to upset you last night.” She said looking at his green eyes.

“last night isn’t what’s bothering me.” He said shaking his head.

“I’m a horrible mom, I know. I’ve always been afraid of you.” She said quietly.

“Afraid isn’t what I’d call it. It’s spite.” He said curling up in the corner of the bed.

“I just knew what you were.” She said shaking.

“what I was? What I was was a baby, a child, that you took responsibility for. Don’t play the guilt card on me.” He said bitterly.

“I didn’t ask or plan to get pregnant, Grim, I was raped, I brought a child into the world that was half victim and half rapist.” She said shaking her head.

“Don’t fucking talk about me that way, oh yeah big sob story from twenty years ago about how you were the victim for a few minutes. I’ve been the victim my whole life. Does it give you closure, or power to do what you did to me?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” She said getting emotional. “I just keep getting wrapped up in memories every time I looked at you.” She said with tears falling.

“I didn’t ask to look like my dad, I didn’t’ ask to be abused, I didn’t ask to be born into this life, I didn’t ask to be born at all. I’m nothing to you but regret.” He said between his teeth. “and you dare to play the victim here? After telling me that I should have been aborted? That you can’t stand even being around me? When I have done nothing wrong, and had my innocence destroyed due to your neglect and abuse.” She had tears falling once more. “Why are you even opening up to me about it?” Grim said glaring at her.

“Like you said, you have the right to know, and I’ve been going to a councelor lately.” She said wiping the tears from her face.

“I’m glad.” He said shaking.

“I’m trying to be better.” She said brushing her hair out of her face.

“The damage is done, mother. I’m always going to be fucked up because I have been for years already. As soon as I’m eighteen don’t even bother any more, I wont be coming around.” He said in a harsh voice.

“Can we just try to get along, just for the holiday? One really good year?” she asked.

“The first and last, I’m sure.” He said looking at her. She nodded and got up. She left the room sniffling. Grim rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, fueled by depression.

#horse anthro #horse #horse character #original character #punk anthro #punk furry #furry #anthro #Grim

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ktrxs · 5 years ago

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7.12.19

My bun is sick. I called two hospitals. One didn’t have their rabbit person on site. They referred me to the second. I call the second. They don’t take fucking rabbits.

I go to other vets around the area. The websites refer me to the second hospital. The hospital that doesn’t take rabbits.

The last time he was sick with gas, he acted a lot worse. I audibly heard noises coming from him. This time, he’s silent, so I have no clue what’s happening.

My only option right now is to hope that he gets better like he did last time. I’m going to force-feed him soon.

I just don’t get how veterinarians need a specialty for animals other than cats and dogs.

My only hope right now is that his energy isn’t as bad as last time. He’s still hoping around and doesn’t seem to be in pain. But the internet has me thinking he’s going to die.

Please, please, please be okay Rumple.

-------

I’m super late to work today. I have a huge writing assignment due at 10am tomorrow. I have to write for the biz. Brandon didn’t go to work until 2. We went food shopping. And then he was watching tv next to me. So of course I couldn’t concentrate because of that and

But of course, my mind is hyperfocused on the bun. I can’t stop worrying.

-----

I’ve been craving soda and coffee the last few days. I haven’t craved soda in so fucking long. Giving up soda was like the easiest thing ever even though I thought I wouldn’t be able to do it.

I’ve gone all of 2019 without a soda. Now, why do I crave one?

I saw a vegan mocha cold brew coffee today at grocery outlet. I wanted it soooo bad. But I’m not paying 2.50 for a sip of coffee.. So i paid the 2.50 on vegan icecream instead because at least it’ll last longer.

Also have i mentioned how awesome being a vegan is?

It’s never been so fucking easy to be a vegan than RIGHT NOW. TODAY.

Literally EVERYTHING I want, I get and no babies are being tortured for it.

Even if I want to feel included with the fam and have familiar, childhood, family foods like burgers and hotdogs. BOOM MOTHERFUCKERS.

Vegan burgers and vegan dogs. Right at Walmart. Easily accessbile.

Do I want cookies? BOOM Walmart, Dollar Tree. Vegan cookies. I even have a microwavable vegan cookie that I’ve been making (and basically surviving on since I no want to cook).

It goes: 3 tbsp oat flour (literally oatmeal through a blender). 1 tbsp SUGAR (i know, but it’s a fucking cookie). 1 tbsp cocoa (because you can have chocolate as a fucking vegan). 1tbsp of peanut butter motherfuckas (i used peanut butter powder). Literally mix that shit with 2 tbsp of water and microwave for 1 minute.

Fucking cookie in my mouth.

Do i want ice cream? Even Ben & Jerry’s are on board. I love chocolate fudge brownie. And I have enjoyed vegan Ben & Jerry’s chocolate fudge brownie. But it’s hard to find.

But So Delicious vegan ice cream is all over the place. BOOM! Ice cream.

What else... what else..... oh donuts. Well... i havent seen or eaten a vegan doughnut. I know of places within a 2 hour radius of me that sells vegan donuts. But... 2 hours. So you got me on the doughnuts. And i want one sooooo bad xD

But ice coffee? check. fried, junk, comfort foods? check. Cereal? Check. Going out to restaurants? Almost check.

I normally am able to find SOMETHING. Like I literally found dragon broccoli and fries on the menu at RED LOBSTER. My stomach was so full i almost died.

But, of course I wouldn’t go to a steakhouse or Arbys or Hardee’s. Like... I won’t even go to a McDonald’s now unless they bring the vegan burger to the USA. Wendys is out.

The selection there is so sad. Literally: plain baked potatoe. Side salad... pick off cheese. And Burger King, for reasons I will never know, changed their vegan veggie burger to a vegetarian one. We don’t stan a burger king anymore.

Pizza? My friends. there iz vegan pizza out there. it’s under some rocks but it’s easier than donuts.

I’ve order a custom vegan pizza from dominoe’s. Little Ceaser claims to customize a veggie pizza without cheese. If you’re near a Mod’s Pizza, get fucking vegan cheese!

There are also wonderful ingredients you can find to make your own pizza. Vegan crust. sauce. vegan cheese if you can find it and veggies.

I know my mind is all over the place but it’s only because I’m hungry and procratinating.

being vegan is so fucking easy. if you want to be a health nut with it, go. if you want to eat exactly like you do now, go ahead and make those tiny switches.

----

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beatyoutothepunchline · 6 years ago

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A Dumb Girls Guide to Dinner for One

When I was a kid, I was given "A Smart Girls Guide" a series of practical advice books created by American Girl for helping tween girls navigate the awkward transition from childhood and becoming a young adult. These books covered everything from friendship troubles to boys, manners, middle school, and sticky situations. (As if that entire phase of my life *cringes at the awkward 7th-grade first-day-of-school photo* wasn't one in and of itself). For being such a "smart girl" you'd think some of these things would have come naturally to me, but apparently not because I was given seven of these books by different family members. Most of this information (if not entirely lost on me) was eventually rendered irrelevant. I am no longer in middle school, my friendships no longer are angsty and problematic, I slowly acquired manners, and have given up on men. That being said, as I now make the transition from a college student to grown ass woman, I wish there was a series of books with advice on things like, What to do when it is just you... in an apartment and you hate cooking but should probably eat something other than a gigantic Rice Krispie Treat. Because, hahaha... that definitely isn't what's happening right now... As the old saying goes, you only learn by doing. And I've only ever used an oven when it was absloutly necessary for my survival or to impress a man (Which, unless you enjoy/know how to cook is a monumental waste of time, speaking from personal experience). Luckily though, I've managed to come up with a few "dishes" along the way that are quick and easy enough for my dumbass to get by. NOTE: Before I get too far into this, I just want to say that this is all stuff I've found works for me. You can swap out or add anything. I'm not saying this is healthy (God knows I could use some more fruits and vegetables) and it might not be for everyone. So take what you want and leave the rest. Breakfast: I am occasionally a breakfast person. Only when I'm hungover, am on vacation, or am near Wheatfields in my hometown of Omaha, NE. On these such occasions, I splurge and get the croque madame and sangria, or the Nutella crepes and fancy coffee. However, every now and again, there is that weird Tuesday morning I want to eat but want to be economical, and in that kind of situation, this is what I do: Peanut Butter/Coffee/Protein Shake --1 Chocolate Premier Protein shake. (Or any protein shake/power of your choice. I like this kind because they sell in bulk at Costco. It's high in protein, low in sugar and is Keto friendly for those folks out there that are into that.) --1 spoon of peanut butter. I don't measure. I use the au natural PB from TJ's because it's cheap and a little better for you than Jiff or Skippy, but you do you man. --3 shakes of cinnamon. --A splash of vanilla extract. --1 Cup of coffee. If you are fancy this can be some Cold Brew, but if you are cheap like me I'm usually good with sticking some day old Folders in the fridge the night before and throwing that in there. (Optional) --1/2 a frozen banana. Gives it a little something extra in the taste department and can work like ice cubes if nothing else is chilled or frozen. Because breakfast shakes, like soft serve, gazpacho, and revenge is a dish best served ice cold. Then just blend it together whatever way you see fit. The stick blender your mom bought you exactly for this purpose that up until last month you only used for margaritas, a food processor some family member gave you when you graduated high school as if you'd be whipping up pesto on a nightly basis. "What a score! Thanks, Aunt Karen!" A hand blender, a KitchenAid mixer (assuming you took this whole cooking thing to the max and want to pretend your Martha Stewart). A bowl and a fork or a Ziplock bag (if your broke and or don't want to make the investment and/or missed the arm day at the gym). Lunch: At this point in the day, I'm usually getting done with a class or am about to wind sprint to one because I'm running late. I wish I was one of those people that was motivated enough to precut my imperfect produce shipment on Sunday night and make five perfectly portioned salasd to put in mason jars and drizzle on a homemade dressing, but I would be BS-ing you if I said I did that. Honestly, I've made it through most of college on vending machine lunches and have been totally content, but at some point, my Cherry Coke and pretzels are going to catch up and I'm going to lose all my hair or something. So I've got a few things I usually do for lunch that are quick and painless. Recently I rediscovered the simple quesadilla (or in my weird family we call them...) Torcheetas --1 handful of whatever kind of cheese you like. I personally dig the "Mexican blend" from TJ's. --1-8 tortillas (depending on how hungry you are). Let's get real, there's a healthy way to make this and then there is a drunk at three AM way to make this dish. --Saracha (or whatever salsa/sauce you're into) (Optional) --1 serving of frozen peas (for vegetables) --1 serving of beans (for protein) --side salad? (I don't usually do this, but it's something my mom would do to make it extra healthy. Doesn't have to be fancy, just lettuce, maybe some baby tomatoes.) If you have time turn on the skillet on low, throw some oil in the pan, gently swirling it until it evenly coats the bottom until toasted to perfection. But if you're in a hurry or just incredibly hungry a microwave will do just as fine. Dinner: Again, if I'm being perfectly honest most nights it's two slices of pizza from the 7/11 next to my building and a green tea or La Croix I keep stockpiled under my bed like an extreme couponer. So I usually do that or if I'm feeling it I'll do a salmon sandwich (which sounds gross but can be made to taste halfway decent. --Do yourself a favor. Buy yourself a decent loaf of bread. None of this off-brand Wonder Bread nonsense. It's weak and if it doesn't entirely fall apart in your hands as you eat it, it will stick to the roof of your mouth. Wheat bread has some health benefits but is dry as hell, bland, and usually more sugar than you think. Buy yourself a nice sourdough. It'll put you out three ish bucks. --Get yourself some canned salmon or tuna. Target usually has a 5 for 10 dollar deal on the Starkist Tuna. Costco sells really high-quality stuff canned stuff like the Kirkland Signature Wild Alaskan Pink Salmon. But if you're like, "Ew, no. I don't eat anything from a can," then there's always stuff in the deli. If you happen to live in a big city, I highly recommend small mom and pop deli shops because they sell things you can't get anywhere else and it's usually a little fresher. --MUSTARD (to taste). Okay, for real though. Personally, I am a dijon fiend but the generic stuff will do the job. (But you went the distance so far, so why half-ass it now?) Toast the bread. (Again, this small step makes a world of difference in the final product). And assemble. Add a side salad, peas. (A vegetable of some kind?) Then get realistic and pair it with a beer or a scoop of Cherry Garcia (and by scoop I mean accidental pint :/ whoops) because you are human, and maybe because it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, your year... I'll be there for you cause I've been there too. Look, this isn't going to turn into a Julie and Julia type situation because I hate cooking. I find zero joy in it. But, I'd also like to eat something other than gas station delicacies until I die, so... I'm going to try a few things out. While I'm off burning tortillas, I'd love to hear your half-assed meals and how to make them diversify my menu.

#theblondefiasco #writing #blogpost

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hypnospilot · 8 years ago

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Americans and the Electric Kettle, or: Calm down, Australia, we’re fine.

So this article is floating around my edition of social media today, and I am both amused and compelled to explain my country. http://www.sbs.com.au/food/article/2017/03/10/americans-dont-use-kettles-and-australians-are-completely-floored

Oh, Australia. I love you. Never change. So, from one former British colony to another, here’s the secret as to why we don’t use electric kettles: the average American’s daily routine doesn’t revolve around tea-by-the-cup, it revolves around coffee-by-the-pot. Coffee is the most common, and ubiquitous hot beverage in the US. We have a similar cultural love affair with it as the British do with tea. It’s probably not quite equivalently enthusiastic, but I would claim that it is as deeply culturally ingrained, especially since part of the reasons we drink so much coffee over here, is because we switched after wasting a metric crapload of tea in a very famous act of protest against the British government. (Also, coffee was just cheaper for us to get, as it was coming from Central and South America, rather than Asia, and fewer taxes and shipping costs were associated with it.) But, because we *love* coffee, and want it to be good, comforting, pleasant, rejuvenating, relaxing, nostalgic, and a suitable partner for the food that might come along with it, we don’t use those vile freeze-dried coffee crystals that seem to be the only way to make coffee in home kitchens abroad. Seriously, what IS that stuff? It somehow tastes like diner coffee that’s been left to burn on the hotplate all day even though it’s presumably not touched heat since the roastery. Whatever that instant crap is, it is not made for or by people who know how to even sorta like coffee. That stuff is crystallized loathing. It is “fuck you” in a cup. It is only a thing to give your worst enemies as a mode of torture.

We brew coffee fresh (or fresher than the loathing crystals at least) each morning, and usually enough for our whole households, then again at our jobs all afternoon, with a coffee robot:

See the lines on the side? That’s for putting water in. This coffee robot is basically an electric kettle that also puts water through coffee grinds in a filter and puts the resulting coffee in a crafe for us. The carafe sits on a hot plate so the coffee stays warm. Americans love their coffee robots and you’ll find them in most homes, break rooms in office buildings, nurse’s stations in hospitals, waiting rooms, lobbies, dormitory common areas, and in common areas used for mingling and fellowship at churches. The coffee robots are everywhere. If the coffee robots ever revolt, the US is fucked. Which is not to say that Americans don’t drink tea, we just drink tea in different quantities and formats than most other countries. For example, having grown up in the South US, this is what tea looked like to me for most of my life:

That is iced tea, and it’s made in large batches (my mom made batches in a stock pot), usually (but not always) with a metric crapload of sugar. If you ask for tea at an average restaurant or person’s home in the South, this is what you get. I grew up thinking of hot tea as a fussy thing only served for specific occasions appropriate to the drink, like when eating food from other cultures where hot tea is a traditional drink, (green tea with Japanese food, Chai with Indian food, Earl Grey when playing at fancy-ass-tiny-cakes-and-sandwiches-English-tea-party-shit). Also, tea and tissane (herbal tea) are all referred to by the word “tea” here, so “hot tea” is often recommended by friends, moms, and medical professionals when someone is ill, and what they mean is various tissanes. Hot tea comes with the idea of illness, or comforting illness, in a lot of American’s minds.

The point is, our general need for boiling water for drinks also requires ground up coffee beans, and we have a very easy-to-access, affordable, ubiquitous robot for that.

So what about for when you ARE sick, or like, want instant food that needs boiling like ramen, then?

We use a stove top (either whistle kettle, or sauce pot) or a microwave. Why?

Well, partially because our instant food comes in microwavable containers so we just add water and throw the whole thing in to the microwave, then stir and consume when it’s done.

This is often our only option when at our offices, if we don’t want or can’t prep a meal to pack in for work, or go out to a restaurant on our meal breaks. Some commercial-sized coffee makers found in office buildings come with a hot water spout for things like tea and cup-o-noodles:

See the red tap handles? Those dispense water directly from the “boiler”. However, most of the time the internal temperature of these things is well under boiling, and I’ve found it’s not hot enough to fully cook instant food. Apart from these things, and a microwave, the only other electronic kitchen appliances found in most office break rooms, are a fridge and a toaster. Microwaves are the fastest way to boil water. Even if a kitchen IS outfitted with an electric kettle, it still isn’t going to be faster than a microwave (obvs), OR most stove tops. Why?

Well, the average electric wall outlet in the US is 120v (In Europe it’s 220v, because clearly they hate babies and electricians and want them all to die.) HOWEVER, our electric ranges/stoves/ovens etc, are 220v standard. They can pull more heat more quickly than anything plugged into our average wall outlets. This means our electric kettles aren’t usually very much quicker than our stove tops, unless the stove isn’t in good working order, AND we have less use for them through our day-to-day. So, electric kettles just aren’t as common here.

Though, in most homes occupied by baristas, you will find we have abandoned our coffee robots for either a french press or a pour over system like a Chemex, and kettle, because it let’s us have a little more sweet, delicious control over our coffee quality.

This is me in Pennsylvania, USA at 9am EST this morning, reassuring a friend in New Zealand via selfie, that we are, in fact, aware of electric kettles. It was promptly filled and switched on to heat water for my 2nd french press of the morning. **A note on concerns about flash boiling risks and common use of instant foods and instant drink powders: This is pretty much the only powder we ever add AFTER boiling anything in the microwave:

It’s instant hot chocolate, and I have never seen it explode or heard of it exploding in anyone’s cup. It only gets added after, because it will not dissolve in cold water. Otherwise, it would get added before boiling, just like everything else. In conclusion, we’re okay. I promise. As a culture, we just don’t need to boil water the same way y’all do.

#Electric Kettles #Austrailia #America #USA #Tea #Coffee #Americans don't use electric kettles #mostly because there's no reason to #but some of us still do #yes we've heard of them #we're okay #please calm down #and have a cup of tea or whatever it is y'all drink to relax #beer maybe #i think we all like a good beer

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libgds · 4 years ago

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I was shooting for today to be a leisurely drive with plenty of stops up to our campsite at Traverse City State Park.

The girls and I slept in the RV and Andy left his door unlocked for any nighttime bathroom needs. That was especially nice since even though my dogs were not here to wake me up for their breakfast, they have trained my bladder well for 6am. I went ahead and stayed up, got ready, and wrote yesterday’s entry. Those two hours proved to be my only quiet time for the day.

I know my nieces are cool and all, but I was surprised that Andy also wanted to join us for our breakfast of a donut and Starbucks run. Abigail and Loralie were obsessed with going to Starbucks. Abigail loves her Dragon drink and Loralie must have been just excited to sound grown-up because when we started to order she told us she had actually never had anything except a cake pop from there. Abigail told her to get a Pink drink and I said to no to the cake pop since we had donuts.

Those of you who know Loralie will not be surprised that Loralie (who does not like pop or juice) did not like the Pink drink. She is no longer talking about Starbucks. We had our donuts and drinks back at Andy’s. He got the grand tour of the RV and witnessed how the girls in mere hours had turned the place into a messy sorority house. I am pretty sure the girls would leave me for Andy in a heartbeat. He suggested we stop in on our way back for another boat ride. This time to a sand bar for some wading and swimming if the weather is better. It was not long after we left before Abigail was pointing out that Laura and the boys would probably be getting to tHartford City from the airport so late that we might as well spend the night at Andy’s again instead of rushing home. They all three even had a road trip planned to Arizona next Spring Training while I took my shower. I am not entirely sure if I am invited or if they just want to use the RV.

I know I have talked about it a million times, but I like what I like and this is the perfect time for some familiar comforts, so we headed to Sawyer, MI. I got my growler of cold brew coffee from Infusco Coffee Roasters, we went to a fruit stand and got some white nectarines, donut peaches, and raspberries. I then got online to call in an order for the best bacon in the world. Turns out they are only doing online ordering and it had to be done a few days in advance. I was hoping to come home a different route, so I will make do with the second best bacon in the world that is more accessible from home. I was even planning on expanding my horizons to their hot dogs…

My final familiar comfort was Greenbush Brewery. I do not like any of their beers, but they do make an amazing mac & cheese with bacon ends mixed in. Plus, it was a nicer place not available at home that has food even picky 12 year olds will like. I also discovered that the Korean Beef BBQ Sandwich that I had last time and thought was just a special that day is actually on the regular menu, so I got the sandwich and the girls got the mac & cheese that I was able to take an aunt tax out of . Win-win for everyone, except for when Abigail knocked over a glass of ice water into my lap. It was cold, but not cool.

Our next stop was Round Barn Estate which is a winery. More importantly, they have a special program for teachers called the Teachers Hall Pass which means free admission to their concerts, use of their trails, and a 20% discount on their products! (I was especially excited about hat last part. ) We sat outside and I ordered a refreshing blueberry lime mojito that was the picture of a perfect summer day and the girls had blueberry slushies. Now these were not your dyed syrup on ice slashes from a gas station, this was real blueberry puree and whipped cream mixed and frozen into a very fine consistency.

So of course Loralie did not like it. I helped her finish it, though.

I got my email confirming my registration to the Teacher Hall Pass program ready so I could order some wine and finally noticed the second half of the FIRST SENTENCE that said I also needed to show my school ID. It’s summer, people. I cannot be expected to fully read and follow directions. I asked the waiter if I could get away with not having the ID and he stammered that he’d only been there a month and did not know what the Hall Pass was, so he needed to ask someone else.

I think the gentleman he sent over was a manager and he was a delight! He just asked for my info to get me into their system, got me the card so I would be all set for next time, brought out the bottles of wine that I had ordered in a bag that would entitle the holder to another discount, and then did not charge for the girls’ slushies. One of my requested bottles was a special creme liquor they make in the Salted Caramel flavor. He forgot they were out, so I said I would take the Mint Chocolate flavor instead (the original is Black Walnut, which is excellent and available in stores at home.) He asked if I had ever had it before, and when I said no, he insisted on bringing me out a free sample before committing. It was a Thin Mint in a glass, with a delightful kick. I think this was the best customer service experience I have ever had in my life. Highly recommend and you can borrow my bag.

We lugged my purchase back to the RV and prepared to go on the trail. I had chosen this because I thought it was something they would enjoy since they could not imbibe in the main attraction. We went less than 50 yards in before they both asked if we could just go on to our campsite. It was hot and I could see there were hills, so I agreed.

Our route took us through picturesque country with many a vineyard and orchard. While I enjoyed the view, the girls watched a download of Hamilton on my iPad.

I do not know where all our dawdling time went, but as I drove and drove the arrival time predicted by Google Maps kept getting later and later. I had hoped to be settled in the campsite before dark. It’s just easier and dawn/dusk light is the worst visibility for me. On one particular curve, the sun was at the exact right height to come through the tops of the trees to hit the dust on the windshield to completely blind me on a tight curve. Not fun and I did not need the jolt of adrenaline, thank you very much.

We pulled into to Traverse City just in time for the girls to still get a good look at Lake Michigan. I was surprised to discover that the park is right in the city. I was doubly surprised that the main road was between the park and the beach. The campsite reservation map I looked at really did not make it clear that there was a four lane highway between us and the lake.

We squeaked in with just enough daylight left to get the RV backed in. I was also surprised by how crowded the campground is for a Monday. The shower house is nice, though and that is number one on my campground amenities list. I will tolerate a lot for a good shower.

I’m not going to lie, but as soon as we parked the girls started driving me a little crazy. I had just driven four+ hours, and as soon as we were parked it was, “can you start a fire,” “where are our chairs,” “can I eat this,” “can you show me how to use the microwave,” “why is that plate sparking in the microwave,” and on and on. They would not let me sit down or stop asking me a million questions. It was honestly more exhausting than the drive. #IntrovertProblems

I had to chase them both off from reading this over my shoulder while I read.

I may or may not have to crack open one of those bottles from the winery.

Dawdling Along I was shooting for today to be a leisurely drive with plenty of stops up to our campsite at…

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