#and he taught them how to make a killer grilled cheese

[missjoolee]

Ray has always been a bit scatterbrained. It was honestly one of the traits that endeared his sweet Rose to him when they were dating, and teasing him as he searched for an item he just had was one of her favorite past times during their marriage. But after she died, it got worse. All thanks to the insomnia. As if suddenly being a single parent wasn’t difficult enough, suddenly he was misplacing his keys, resulting in being consistently late to things. He would forget to go grocery shopping and they ordered pizza way too often. He constantly had Victoria and other well meaning people asking if everything was okay? Did he need help?

He just needed some sleep. But each night he would lay down, toss and turn, doze for an hour or two and then be wide awake for hours. The only upside was he was awake when Carlos or Julie needed him, overwhelmed by their grief in the dark of night during those first months.

As time passed, as they healed together, things got easier. He learned to buy tomato sauce and spaghetti in bulk for the times he forgot to go grocery shopping, and he’d finally given in to Victoria’s offers of help with meals as well. He still misplaced things more often than before, but his kids, his beautiful kids, helped him out wearing the same teasing smirks his Rose used to give him. And slowly, he was sleeping longer, deeper, than he had in months.

It’s when Julie gets kicked out of the music program that he starts having sleepless nights again. It’s been difficult watching her struggle with music all this time, but he didn’t realize how much he was struggling watching it, not knowing how to help her, until the school made their decision.

It’s different from before. For starters, it’s not every night, it wasn’t even that first night after Julie had started cleaning out the garage. And even when he heard her play the next morning, and he felt more peace and relief than he had in forever, he still would find himself unable to fall asleep some nights. Victoria notices the bags under his eyes and he can tell she’s worried that he’s backsliding in his progress, so he is quick to assure her it’s not the same this time. It feels like when he was there for his kids, even though he’s alone. He will toss and turn until finally giving up and walking down into the kitchen or into the den to his home computer. He talks to Rose sometimes, other times just musing his thoughts aloud. And the strange thing is eventually, almost like a physical feeling, he knows he can go back to his bed and will sleep through the rest of the night.

It’s one such night as he has given in to make a middle of the night grilled cheese, narrating what he has learned the past year to do and not do to get the perfect sandwich, that he hears the gentle thumps of Julie’s footsteps coming down the stairs. He can tell because Carlos practically does a control fall down the stairs he moves so fast, while Julie usually isn’t in any rush.

“Everything okay, Julie?” he asks before she’s even rounded the banister. He slides the spatula under the grilled cheese and lifts it over to the plate he has waiting.

“Yeah. Just getting a glass of wa-” she cuts off as she rounds the corner, staring at the counter opposite the stove. Her gaze lingers for a long moment, before moving to the sandwich he was now cutting in half into triangles. “-ter. Everything okay here?”

“Yeah. Just felt like a late night snack. Want half?” he offers.

She smiles but shakes her head, gaze drifting back to the counter across from him, before she makes her way over to the sink to fill a glass with water. “No thanks. Just water for me tonight.”

Ray shrugs, taking a bite. He leans against the counter and watches his daughter, his heart swelling at the huge steps she’s taken these past weeks. As she turns back, he reaches out to intercept her, pulling her to his side with one arm. He places a kiss on the top of her head. “I am so proud of you, Mija.”

Her arm squeezes him back, not letting go as she drinks her water and he eats his sandwich, both looking forward across the stove and counter both lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly a giant smiles grows on her face and she looks up at him. “You’re a good dad. I’m lucky you’re mine.”

“I’m the lucky one to have such great kids. Where did that come from?” She steps out from his side and grabs the second half of his sandwich.

“It’s late, Papi. You should go to sleep.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but then that feeling overtakes him. The one that says he’ll be able to fall asleep. “I think you mean we should go to sleep. It’s a school night.”

She laughs at him as she bites into the sandwich and heads for the stairs.

[enniewritesathing]

💘🍳🎲

💘What do they find attractive about their partner(s)?

John: He thinks Brian is very graceful looking -- according to him, like a willow tree (and their resilience). Bonus that John is the shorter of the two and he can be a little under him. He also loves his freckles and how they're just everywhere and how cute he looks after he's been in the sun. It's like having stars on his skin. And those hazel eyes? Depending on how the light is, they're either a flash of green or a very earthy brown. His hands are up there too. Brian knows how to touch.

Brian: Everything, and honestly it hit him all at once one day, lol. The day he saw John let down his hair in front of him, his heart went (💓). Not only that, his eyes are a very striking color -- and it's very easy to get lost in them. He finds it very attractive on how John carries himself. He's masculine but in a way that he's very confident about it; there's little need for him to be grandstanding about it.

that, and he is great during the winter time with all of that body hair and his chest makes a great place to rest his weary head on :)

🍳 - How well can they cook?

John: Definitely knows how to cook. He was taught early on, so by the time he was a teenager, he was able to make food for himself when his mom wasn't home/running late/etc. Actual dishes and not something that he can throw in the microwave and call it a day. Occasionally does meal preps for Brian and also cooks for the ER every now and then.

Brian: It depends but growing up, it was just a matter of what was available to him. He can make simple things -- he can make an absolutely killer grilled cheese sandwich. Anything that involves more than 5? ingredients well... like I said, it depends. He knows, but he prefers John to do it, lol.

🎲 - Pick a random question to answer from this list.

(🏳️‍🌈 - What do they identify as? What are their pronouns?)

John: Bisexual & he/him. Brian: Asexual/Gay & he/him (although he has used they/them a couple of times in the past -- he doesn't mind referred to as such.)

[captainjimothycarter]

Steve & Peggy are close childhood friends that reunite in college incidentally. They briefly recognize each other when they happen to walk by each other on the way to class, but can’t stop to catch up, and they have to find each other later.

Steve & Peggy are close childhood friends that reunite in college incidentally. They briefly recognize each other when they happen to walk by each other on the way to class, but can’t stop to catch up, and they have to find each other later.

 Oh, this is just so soft. I am so sorry, it’s so long.

--

“Are you an idiot or something?”

The posh, British tone makes steve look up from where he’s doing a pretty good impression of an Ostrich, his face coated in red dirt and blood. She could see tracks in his skin from where his tears had ran.

“No,” he grumbled, pushing himself to sit up and spitting blood out of his mouth. “Dunno why you’re asking me that. Who are you?”

“Someone that just kicked their butts.” Her thumb jerks over to Steve’s neighborhood bullies stumbling out of the abandoned lot. Even with his bad vision, he could see how Percy was limping and the welt rising on the back of Jeffory’s neck.

“I didn’t ask for you to save me, I had it handled!”

“Clearly.” Her tone and eye roll said otherwise. “You had them by the ends of their britches if you ask me. They were gonna kill you or worst. You’re lucky I spotted them.” Her hand held out and without asking for permission, jerking him to his feet. She’s taller than him, not by much, just two inches. He’s a small thing that looks like he’s gotten accustomed to his face meeting the ground a few times. He defiantly doesn’t know how to defend himself given how he was curled up when those three boys were surrounding him.

Typical brutes.

Steve frowned as he found his way to his feet, ruffling the dirt out of his hair. He was still watching her, confused. She wasn’t from around here, he’s never heard her voice before. He’d remember her accent. It was pretty, like Miss Ramous’. She wore posh clothes too, a pretty pink dress that was now stained with dirt and blood – his blood. Her white knee-high socks were just as stained. The only thing old on her was her tennis shoes.

“Steve Rogers,” he finally muttered, holding his hand out to her. “Thank you.”

“Margaret Carter.” She said her name with pride, showing her white teeth as she smiled and they shook hands. “I just moved here with my mum and brother. I think we’re next-door neighbors in the apartments? I’ve seen you around the complex. You helped Michael.” She paused and started to fuss over his torn shirt. “Do those boys do that often?”

“Do what? Gang up on me?” His one-shoulder shrugged, she noted it was too painful for him to lift the other one. “Sometimes. Normally. Yeah. I fight back but they always gang up on me. I don’t like bullies and if I don’t stand up to them, no one will. They were hurting a cat! That cat didn’t do anything.”

Peggy’s eyes landed on a burlap sack, now empty. She’d seen a streak of orange when she pulled up on her bicycle, having heard Steve’s yelps echoing down the alleyway.

“You’re pretty brave. Stupid, but brave. I’ll teach you how to fight.” She paused, waited for him to scoff like all the other boys did for being a girl, and knowing how to fight. When it didn’t come, her face pinched slightly. “You’re not gonna laugh?”

“Why would I laugh? You said you were gonna teach me how to fight. What? Cause you’re a girl.” Steve shrugged again and his face pinched. “My ma is a girl and she’s the bravest person I know.”

“You know…” Peggy sighed, picking up Steve’s good arm and throwing it over her shoulder to support most of his weight out of the alleyway, “You’re not so much of an idiot after all. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

--

“ Margaret Carter!”

Even Steve had to flinch from the shrill of a woman who looked like Peggy’s voice. She had Peggy’s pretty eyes and curls but her features looked almost sour as she dragged her daughter away from him and left someone with sandy blonde hair and limbered limbs to catch him.

“Mum, stop, I’m fine!” Peggy complained, trying to tug out of her arm. “I was helping, Stevie! He’s our neighbor and the boys in the neighborhood were hurting him!”

“You did what?!” She turned to round on Steve, who was just as confused as anyone. “How dare you involve my precious daughter in these ridiculous tomfoolery games of yours! You’ve ruined her dress and God knows what else!”

“Mother.” The guy holding Steve up looked older than Peggy but had the same kind eyes. Only Peggy’s mother had them but crueler. “Stop it. Peggy was helping a kid in trouble. I’ve seen those boys around the neighborhood. They’re no good and were hurting some poor innocent animal.”

At least someone was defending him because it seems he had lost his voice.

“I don’t care, Michael. Look at what they did to her dress! She has an interview in an hour and-“

“Mother, stop!” Peggy shrieked, stomping her foot and jerking away from her mom. She went back to Steve’s side and helped him stand back up. “Michael, let him go. I got him. Stop being mean. Steven needed my help and I helped him. It’s what dad would’ve done. You would let Micheal help him. I don’t even want to go to this boring, private school with uniforms and stuck up teachers.”

“No daughter of mine is going to some disgusting public school with filth like that!” She glared at Steve like he was a piece of dog turd that he’d thrown in Percy’s face earlier. “And of course I would’ve, no girl should be fighting. It’s unladylike. Now come on.” She went to jerk her again but Steve slapped her hand away.

“Will you stop it?” He snapped at her. “You’ve been nothing but mean to me since I’ve gotten here. You let the front door close in my face when I was helping my ma carry groceries, you locked me out of the laundry room, you turned off all the lights in the lobby when I was using them to read, and now you’re getting mad at me for what? Your daughter’s actions? I didn’t ask for her help. I’m grateful, but she helped me on her own. You should be proud of her! She stopped up to bullies.”

The woman’s face twisted as if she’d been forced to lick a lemon. The sound of the slap echoed through the small hall, leaving Steve to blink away tears.

“You will never touch me again, filth. Do you hear me? This is why I didn’t want to come to America, but your father insisted. Too much filth. Do you hear the language he uses? ‘Ma’. No proper English.” She jerked Peggy away with no warning, shoving her inside of the apartment and slamming the door in Steve and Michael’s face.

Michael was quiet, holding Steve’s shoulder a bit too tightly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered after a beat of silence. “She won’t hurt, Marge. She’s cruel but not in terms of…man handling. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Steve couldn’t say no as he was brought inside his own apartment, his ma at work. He was silent as the elder Carter cleaned him up, not even flinching when the alcohol stung the wounds. Michael spoke, he didn’t like silence it seemed. He told him about how their father owned a publishing company and was moving some of the branches to America to expand and how they were going to live here for some time now. And how their mum didn’t like it but Peggy was excited about the adventure.

He spoke lots about his little sister, said how scrappy she was. How she was born small and always fighting, just like how he was. How she was smart and knew two languages now. She was only a year younger than Steve but already reading at a college grade level like he was. He had taught Peggy to fight and their ma had gotten mad at her, not him for teaching her. Made Peggy promise some ridiculous thing about how she was never to be so unladylike.

Peggy, of course never kept that promise.

“Am I not allowed to be friends with her?” Steve asked, around a mouthful of grilled cheese that the elder brother had made for them. “I-I wanna be her friend. She’s nice to me.”

“If you ask my mother she’d say otherwise,” Michael scoffed, rolling his eyes. “But I’ll make it happen. She deserves friends her age and…like you. You’re the first person to make her smile in days.”

--

Someone cursed behind him when Steve stopped in the middle of a crowded hall to do a double-take, his hand clenching the coffee cup a little bit harder than before. No, this wasn’t right. There was no way this was right. Maybe it was the caffeine, maybe it was the lack of sleep because there was no way Peggy Carter could be back in America and most of all, in his very college.

His best friend, his childhood friend. Someone he loved and held dear and close to his heart, someone, who through the years of high school they’d lost contact with one another after Peggy’s father died and her mother became more overbearing especially when Michael took over the family company. Their last conversation sometimes still played in his head.

If that was her, now that he was doubting it, did she think about him as much as he thought about her? It was nearly five years ago they’d last talked and he still thought about her every other day. There were some friendships you didn’t let go of.

“Hey, Stevie?”

The blonde blinked and looked to Bucky, his new roommate, an arm thrown over his shoulder. “Sorry, I was…lost in thought.”

“What with that pretty girl? With the killer heels? She’s in my French class.”

“Yeah, swear I know her from somewhere.” He rubbed at his jawline as Bucky forced him to move, dragging him down the hallway. “You get her name?”

“Nah, I was late for the last couple of times. I can introduce you two though, just meet me after class tonight.”

--

She was so sure of every last decision she’s made in the five years.

Sure about leaving her abusive mother, sure about joining Michael to live in a cheap flat and continue her schoolwork until she graduated early, sure about taking over the company once she got her degree because Michael was not happy about this type of work while Peggy was. Sure about going back to college in America to run the company from there, because it’s the only time she’s felt happy.

She was sure about everything but one thing.

On if that was truly him.

Could it be? Sure, she was back in Brooklyn but there was no telling if Steve Rogers still lived here, if he even existed.

He’d once mentioned about traveling the world after high school, silly pipe dreams she encouraged because it made him so happy.

He looked so different – if it was him. Broader, muscular, fuller hair, and brighter eyes. Last she saw he was scrawny and lanky like he hasn’t grown into himself. He certainly has now – if this was him.

She should turn back, run back to him, ask, and risk herself the embarrassment but the crowd of people was already dragging her away and she couldn’t risk being late to class her first week.

Maybe she could attempt to see him again, stake out the halls.

God, she was being ridiculous. Angie would flip if she knew she was thinking about a boy.

--

“Peggy Carter?”

The voice droned on names so fast that Peggy almost missed hers, her hand shooting up to alert the teacher she was here before dropping her head back down to doodle in the corner of her book.

French. She was fluent in French, so she figured it was an easy A, if anything, but she didn’t expect the class to be so damn boring. The teacher taught everything wrong that if Peggy wasn’t fluent, she’d have to spend time unteaching herself, just to relearn again.

“Pst. Pst.”

Peggy glares in the direction of a brunette guy with silver eyes poking at her with the end of his pen. “And what do you want? I am not keen on having Miss Cat-Lady yell at us for talking.”

The guy laughs and rolls his eyes, throwing a look to the dubbed Cat-Lady whose having a difficult time doing something on her computer. “She treats us like we’re still freshmen in highschool. Anyway, it’s Peggy, right? I got someone who wants to meet you, stay here after class.”

Before Peggy could even ask who, the lights are dimmed and her attention is drawn to the PowerPoint on the board.

--

“Alright,” Peggy sighed when the brunette-James, she learned- stepped back inside the empty classroom, waving his hand at someone to stay still. “What’s all this about? I don’t like surprises much.”

“Oh, you’ll love this one.” He was all grins, he had a very boyish face and attitude that reminded her so much of her brother.

The very last Peggy ever thought to see was the blonde from before, coming through the door with a paint-stained sweater, blue paint drying on the tip of his nose, charcoal on his hands, and nervously holding a cup of coffee.

Her hand flew to her mouth, a few desks between them, unsure of how to get her legs to move. How to move from her spot to his.

This close, she knew in her heart it was him. She could see the kindness in those eyes. The soft scar along his jawline from where he fell off his bike. That boyish grin as the coffee cup dropped to the table and tables pushed out of the way as he scooped her up.

She should be furious that he’s ruining her clothes again, charcoal stains of handprints on white silk but she can’t be. She’s laughing as he spins her around, and they both pretend the other isn’t crying.

“Is it really you?” Peggy whispers, holding Steve’s face in her hands.

“Y-yes, Peggy, yes. I…” He didn’t know what to say. Instead, he acted on an impulse that he should’ve done in the first place.

He kissed her and Peggy sunk into him as she was placed on her feet, arms around his neck until they parted.

She laughed as they did so, her dress officially ruined. “You think I’d learn my lesson the first time we met.”

Steve cringed as he looked down at the front of her dress and at his now cleanish hands. “Your ma isn’t here to yell at me, is she?”

“Good Lord, no, Steven, no, but I am.” The smile on her face said otherwise as she took hold of his face again to kiss him. “I think it looks beautiful with the new handprints.”

A scoffing noise caused them both to look up, Steve’s face flushing as they both realized Bucky was still there. “You two,” he grumbled, downing the coffee and making a face, “are sickeningly cute. Steve, what the fuck is this coffee?”

Steve snorted into the arm of his sweater. “It’s not, Buck. It’s paint water I’m using for a project.”

[simplygojo]

killer queen - chapter nine

Series summary : Y/n, a native to London England, gets asked by the legend himself, Freddie Mercury, to help manage the band. Obviously she accepts, and it ends up being the best decision she ever made. Quickly she becomes close with each member of the band, Roger Taylor specifically…

Chapter Summary : Y/n and the band finally arrived at the farm and begin recording the album. Roger has to wake y/n up after she passes out in the sound booth, and they have a late night together once again...

Word Count : 4.7k

Pairings : Ben!Roger Taylor x Reader 

Warnings : Swearing, SMUT

a/n - SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG!!! I had to deal with family issues so I had no time to write, but it’s here now!! Also, if you’d like to be on the tag list OR request something, then please send me an ask!! luv youuu <3

                                              Killer Queen Masterlist

            You felt someone gently shaking you as your eyes slowly fluttered open. You sat up and looked around, eventually right into Rogers beautiful eyes. “Love, we’re here.” He said softly giving you a small smile. This made your heart jump just a bit. You had all finally arrived at the farm, Roger looking completely out of place in his fur jacket and designer sunglasses. You all stepped out of the car, bags in hand as you walked towards the small stone house, which looked as if it was seconds away from falling apart. “Well, this is, nice.” Roger said, obviously forcing his positive statement. “Well I think it’s positively marvelous.” Freddie chimed in as Prenter carried Fred’s bags behind him. “Alright, I’ll show you all to your rooms.” Prenter said as he rushed inside the small home. You walked inside the home behind Roger, and it stank like a barn. “What a lovely smell.” Deaky said, causing the group of you to let out a chuckle, except Prenter. “Okay Freddie you’re upstairs, the biggest room of course.” Brian you’rel to the left, John to the right.” Paul began to walk away and you and Roger looked at eachother. “What about us?” You said, evidently not pleased. “Oh yeah, you two are in the basement.” He said walking upstairs to show the rest of the boys their rooms. 

            “I swear to god if he doesn’t show us where the bloody hell our rooms are I’m gonna kill him.” Roger said, dropping his bags on the ground and sitting at the kitchen table. “That man gets on my nerves, there's just-” Roger interrupted you “Just something about him.” You nodded in agreement. “Glad it’s not just me.” You said, even though you knew Freddie was the only one who liked him. Deaky was the only one who didn’t despise him, the rest of you did. “So...about last night…” You began as you walked towards where he was sitting. He smirked as he watched you walk and looked you up and down. “What about it?” He asked. You smiled and rolled your eyes. “Hey, I’m serious. Brian and them can’t know about it, or if it happens again…” “You think it might happen again?” He said hooking one of his fingers through your belt loop as he stood up in front of you. “I said IF.” You said, walking away from his grasp, but he quickly pulled you back from your belt loop and placed both his hands firmly on your hips, holding you in place. “Roger.” You said sternly, but the look he gave you made your heart flutter. He gave you a sarcastic pout as he leaned closer to you. “I know you’ll give innn.” He whispered in your ear, then placed a soft kiss on your jawline. You subconsciously closed your eyes and leaned into his touch. “Says who.” You countered. He placed another kiss further down your neck. “Me.” He said, the lust obvious in his voice. You sighed in pleasure as you felt his gentle hands trace the skin on the dips of your waist. You rolled your eyes and brought your hands to his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. His hands moved to the small of your back as he pressed you against the kitchen table, you wished you could repeat last night right here right now, but you knew better. You pulled away quickly and looked at him. “That's enough, the boys will be back soon, and there can be no distractions while we’re here.” You said softly as you separated yourselves. “Oh love, then why the bloody hell did you come?” He teased again but you shot him a stern look, making him stop immediately. “Because I am the only one who can keep you boys in check, keep you on task, and keep you focused.” You explained, merely moments before Paul walked back in the room with Brian and John. “Okay you two, your rooms are this way.” He said in his high pitched voice. You and Roger grabbed your bags and followed Prenter downstairs. The two rooms beside each other both had water stains on the walls and bales of hay in the coroners. “It’s bloody freezing.” You said glaring at Prenter who in response just shrugged. “It’ll get warmer as the day goes on.” He said as he walked back up the stairs. After Prenter left, the two of you looked at each other and then each claimed a room, placing your bags on the bed. “Well this is gonna be fun.” You said sarcastically. “I can’t believe that Prenter has to come with us.” Rog said. “He’s such a prick.” You added. “Come on, everyones upstairs, let’s join them.” You said as you walked up the stairs with Roger behind you. The two of you walked into the kitchen area as Deaky and Brian were arguing about how many cows they saw on the drive up. “Bri, I know what I saw, I saw 47 cows, there’s no way there was only 31. You probably fell asleep” Deaky said which made Brian stand up. “I did not fall asleep!” He yelled angrily. You let out a laugh. “What the fuck are you arguing about?” You said. “Y/n, we did this thing on the tour that when we were driving for a long time, Deaky and I would have a competition to see who could catch how many cows we passed.” “It’s to pass the time really, we both hate long drives so it’s like a game of sorts.” Deaky added in. You and Roger both laughed. “Bloody hell you are both losers.” Roger said as he walked over to the coffee machine. “Rog will you make me one too please? I’m gonna go see Fred.” You asked nicely as you went to go up the stairs to Freddie’s room. “Of course.” Roger replied as he got out a second mug. Brian and John looked at each other in confusion and then looked at Roger. “Well that was awfully nice.” John said and Roger turned around. “What was?” He asked as he filled one mug with coffee. “There was no bickering, no snotty remarks.” Brian said. Roger rolled his eyes. “Are you joking? Guys she just asked for a coffee.” He said as he filled up the second mug. 

              You walked upstairs and knocked on Freddie’s door. “Fred?” You said as you walked into the room. He was sitting in the coroner of the room with a paper and pencil in his hand. He didn’t say anything as you walked closer to him. You caught a glimpse of a tear rolling down his cheek and you kneeled in front of him. “Fred what’s wrong?” You asked him. He gave you a small smile and leaned back in his chair, quickly writing something down on the paper. “I’m writing a song for Mary.” He whispered. “And it’s really good.” He said smiling again. You let out a small chuckle. “That’s great Fred. Well I just came to see how you’re doing. How about we start recording tomorrow?” You said as you stood up and walked towards the door. “That sounds excellent y/n.” You smiled and left the room, walking back down to the kitchen where Roger was waiting for you with a coffee in his hand. “For you.” He offered. You just smiled and took it from his hands. “Thank you.” “I don’t even get why you need s coffee y/n. You slept the whole three hours here.” Deaky teased as he stood up from his seat and walked to the window. “Well shit, it’s raining.” He said. Roger laughed, “Have you not been hearing the rain on the roof this whole time?” He said with a laugh as he sipped his coffee. Deaky rolled his eyes and sat down at the round table. 

            “Anyone want to play cards?” Brian asked as he took a deck out from his jean pocket. “Yeah sure.” You said taking a seat to the left of Deaky, Roger sitting to your right and Brian sitting across from you. “So what are we playing?” You asked after you took a sip from your coffee mug. “It’s called Brag, a bit old but my Grandad taught me it when I was a boy. The three of us play it all the time.” Brian said gesturing to Roger and Deaky. “Why haven’t I been invited to these card games?” You asked. “Well, girls don’t really play ca-” “What Bri means to say, love, is that you don’t seem like the type to like cards.” Roger said immediately correcting Brian. You crossed your arms over your chest. “So it’s because I’m a girl?” You said, your anger flowing through your veins. “No no no!” Deaky said to try to correct them. “No you know what, it’s fine. I don’t care.” You said, but you obviously cared. “I’m sorry y/n, I didn’t mean it li-” “Bri, I really don’t care, just explain the game and then let’s play.” You said putting your coffee mug on the table and interlocking your hands together. Brian explained the game, and you were determined to kick all three of their asses. After four rounds, Brian had won twice and Roger had won twice. “Fuck this I’m gonna make a grilled cheese.” Deaky said as he walked over to the kitchen. “Make me one!” You called. “You done y/n?” Roger said almost sounding cocky. “Not even close.” You told them. The next round you won, then you played again and won, then again, and again. After five more rounds, you winning every single one of them, Brian stood up. “Deaky now I want a grilled cheese too.” “Yeah let's take a lunch break.” Roger said as he put his cards down on the table and joined the boys in the kitchen. You had a proud smile on your face. ‘I showed them’ you thought to yourself as you stood up to join them in the kitchen. 

            The day went on slowly, as you all felt like you had nothing to do. Once dinner passed, you were sat in an old armchair reading a book, while the boys were sat discussing song ideas for the album. The only reason you were all here was to make music, so that’s basically the only thing you wanted to do. You finally got up, marking your spot in the book and walked over to the table. “Alright, I think I’m going to get an early night.” You said to them. “Alright, night y/n.” Brian said, looking at you for a moment, before he continued to write lyrics down in his notebook. You gave them a small wave before walking down into the freezing cold basement. “Fuck it’s cold.” You whispered as you wrapped your arms around yourself. You quickly changed into a huge sweater and some joggers before you crawled under the thin covers. You forced your eyes shut as an attempt to go to sleep. You heard Roger and Deaky say they were going to head to bed now as well, but Brian said he wanted to finish his lyrics. You heard the stairs creek eerily as Roger walked down them. He went straight into his room, you heard him looking around for his clothes. After a moment the noise stopped, and you heard his footsteps slowly approaching your door. “Y/n.” He whispered. You sat up and opened your eyes, your room was pitch black, all you saw was Roger’s silhouette standing in the doorway. “What Rog?” You asked as you reached around the bedside table for the lamp. You pulled the metal string to turn it on, light filled the room as you noticed Roger was now standing at the side of the bed. “I will never be able to fall asleep in this temperature. It’s too bloody cold.” He said wrapping his arms around himself. “Okay, what do you want me to do about it?” You said, a bit annoyed that he was bugging you. You watched as a smirk grew on his face. “Well I can think of some...activities that can warm us up.” He said. You fought the smile that was trying to creep onto your face as you rolled your eyes. “Rog, I said no distractions, remember?” You protested. “Oh but y/n it’ll do the opposite of distract me, it’ll help me...uh...release my urges so tomorrow I can focus on music.” He explained as he sat on the end of the bed. You had a stern look as you scanned his face. “No.” You said, laying back down and pulling the covers over your body. “Fine then, but mark my words, I will convince you during this trip.” He said dramatically as he stood up. “Good night Roger.” You chuckled and he smiled wide. “Goodnight love.” You closed your eyes and pulled the covers right up to you chin as an attempt to keep warm, but you eventually fell asleep.

            The next morning you woke up to the boys arguing in the kitchen. You put on some fuzzy socks and walked up the stairs. “I put my heart and soul into this song.” You heard Roger say with his back turned to Brian and Deaky. “Morning boys.” You said sitting beside Brian. “No one is disputing that.” Deaky said pointing his fork at Roger. “What are you guys eating? Can I have some?” You asked once you noticed the plates sitting in front of Brian and Deaky. “And you don’t like it because you want your songs on the album!” Roger said, turning to face the three of you. “It’s not that Roger.” Deaky countered. “Then what is it?” You sighed and stood up. “I guess I’ll make something  myself.” Brian looked up from his plate and looked at Roger “I’m in love with my car? Maybe it’s not strong enough?” Brian asked, Deaky shrugging in agreement. Meanwhile, you put two pieces of bread in the toaster and snagged the last two pieces of bacon and sat back down beside Brian. Roger scoffed at Brian. “What does that even mean ‘not strong enough’?” Just then Freddie walked in. “I know I’m late. What did I miss?” He asked. “They’re arguing about Roger’s car song.” You said rolling your eyes. Freddie shot you a look of understanding and nodded. “Is it strong enough, that’s all I’m asking. If I’m on my own here than I apologize.” Brian said in defence. To no surprise Roger was still being aggressive and pointed at Brian. “How does you new song go then hmmm?” He taunted as he grabbed the paper sitting in front of Brian. You paused as he read the lyrics. “You call me sweet, like I’m some kind of cheese?” He read and you laughed a little. Brian nodded “It’s good.” “Wow!” “Is that, you know, let's read yours. When my hand’s on your grease gun. That’s very subtle isn't it?” Brian said, which made you lean over and look at the rest of Roger’s lyrics. “It’s a metaphor, Brian!” Deaky straightened his back and chimed in. “It’s just a bit weird Roger, what exactly are you doing with that car?” You rolled your eyes as you got up to get your toast that popped. You spread some butter over it and brought it back over to where you were sitting as Freddie spoke. “Children please. We could all murder eachother but then who would be left to record this album?” “Statistically speaking, most bands don’t fail, they break up.” Deaky said, picking at food on his plate. “Deaky why the hell would you say something like that?” You said scowling at him. Freddie pointed at Roger. “Roger there's only room in this band for one histerical queen.” Freddie picked up a box of cigarettes and walked out. “You know why your angry Roger?” “Why?” “Because you know your song isn't strong enough.” Roger gave a small nod, but you could see the volcano of rage about to erupt. He picked some of the food up off the counted and threw it at Brian. “Is that strong enough?” He yelled. “Rog…” You began, as an attempt to calm his rage. Instead, he cleared everything off the counter with one sweep of his arms. “What about that?” He grabbed the coffee maker and held it over his head. “Not the coffee machine!” You, Brian, and Deaky all said in unison. “Enough!” You stood up and glared at all of them. You walked over to Roger, and gently took the coffee machine out of his hand, placing it back down on the counter. “Today is the start of the album, how about we set up the studio with the equipment, yeah?” You suggested, Roger and Brian nodded. “Okay, good, I’m going to get ready, I expect all of you to be grabbing your instruments from the van when I’m done.” You said sternly before walking back down to your room. You put on a pair of blue jeans and a white long sleeve shirt before quickly brushing your hair and then running back upstairs. 

            Just as you had asked, all three of the boys were bringing in their equipment into the studio. You were about to follow them, but you heard someone, most likely Freddie playing piano. You walked towards the sound, which led to a small living room with a brown grand piano in the middle of it. You stood in the doorway not making any sound as you heard Freddie sing lyrics you hadn’t heard. At the end of the lyrics his voice cracked from the emotions that must’ve been flooding his mind. It sounded beautiful, and you hoped that Freddie would present it to the band. “That’s really good, Fred.” You said after a minute of silence. “Oh god y/n, I didn’t know you were there.” He said, startled. “Thank you dear, I think it’ll be magnificent.” You chuckled as he walked over to you. “Anything you write is magnificent.” He laughed. “It is isn’t it?” You nodded as the two of you walked out of the living room and towards the studio. “Fred we’ve been here for over twenty-four hours and I’ve barely seen you. Everything okay?” You asked him. He didn’t answer for a moment but gave a small nod. “I’m just figuring some things out.” He said vaguely, although you had a feeling you knew precisely what he was talking about. “Well, you know I’m always open to talk, if you want to.” You offered before the two of you walked into the now set up studio. “Well there they are.” Deaky said. “Wow it looks good guys.” You said as you walked into the middle of the room, where a mock recording booth was set up. “Alright listen, I want to record a song.” Freddie began, as all of you gathered around him. “I have already got Brian to write a guitar solo for it, and I’ve been working on it for a while. It will be our biggest and best song yet.” He explained. “Alright then, lets do it.” Roger said, nodding as he twirled his drumsticks. Freddie gave each of the boys a sheet that he had written and they all began to practice their own part. You took a seat on one of the chairs as you watched them all play. Your eyes focused mainly on Roger, you loved watching him play the drums, he did it with such passion. As you stared at him, your thoughts began to drift to your night before the trip. You wanted it to happen again, and again, and you wanted it to be normal. You wanted him to share his warmth with you when the two of you tried to sleep in the freezing cold. You wanted to tell him that he’s constantly on your mind, and how much you crave him. But you knew you couldn’t, not while the album has such a close deadline. Roger finally noticed you staring and gave you a wink and a small smile, to which you simply rolled your eyes and looked away. Finally the boys decided that they’d just begin recording some of the other songs, and work on what you all called ‘Fred’s Thing’ once all the other songs were done. For the rest of the day, they recorded Brian’s song called 39. You brought in some sandwiches around 3pm and then made grilled cheeses around 7:30, making sure that the boys took some breaks in between takes. After they ate their dinner, they continued to record while you remained in the recording booth the whole time, laying down on a small couch in the back. You eventually fell asleep, your legs curled into your chest and your hair covering your face. 

            After who knows how long, Roger had finally decided to wake you up, he shook your shoulders gently. “What?” You said harshly as you opened your eyes. Roger laughed, “A bit rude there love, but we’re going to bed now. It’s midnight.” He said making your head shoot up. “Bloody hell it is not!” You shouted sitting up quickly, which only made Roger laugh harder. “Yeah, come on.” He said helping you up from the couch. The two of you walked back to the barnhouse together, your hands brushing his every so often. “I’m just gonna clean up, you head to bed.” He said, which made you let out an ugly chuckle. “What was that about?” He asked, offended. “You? You’re gonna clean up? Since when do you do that?” You asked him laughing a bit as you sat on the kitchen counter dangling your legs off the side. “Since now! Brian, Deaky, Fred and I all decided that we’d rotate dishes each day so you’re not doing them.” He admitted, turning on the tap to fill up the sink. You smiled wide and looked at him. “That’s very sweet Rog.” You said as he walked up to you, standing between your legs. “Well I’m a sweet guy y/n.” He said, his voice slightly louder than a whisper. Roger put both of his hands on either of your thighs and slowly slid them up towards your hips, this made you felt a heat grow between your legs. “Rog, we shouldn’t-” “I get that we shouldn’t y/n, but I’ve been craving you constantly.” He said in a whisper as his hands moved from your thighs to your waist. “I know you’ve been craving me too.” You gave him a look of disbelief. “I have not.” “Y/n, I saw how you were looking at me today. I’m not trying to force you, but I would never say this unless I knew you wanted it too.” He said as he was merely inches away from your face, “Come on love.” He whispered in a low raspy voice, making the heat between your legs almost unbearable. 

            “God Taylor, you’re the worst.” You said before wrapping your hands around his neck, pulling him closer to you. His hands quickly snaked around your waist pulling your body flush against his as the two of you kissed, allowing his tongue into your mouth. Your hands combed through his hair and his trailed up your shirt to roam your body. His lips felt warm as they trailed from your mouth down to your jawline, then to your collarbone, nibbling and gently suckeling on the sensitive skin on your neck. You felt his hands play with the belt loops of your pants, as if he was daring to take them off. “You fucking tease.” You breathed, reaching down to unbutton them, and he quickly slid them down your legs, the counter was frigid against your thighs, causing you to shiver. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll warm you up in no time.” He growled in your ear, causing a shiver of pleasure to run down your spine. You looked him in the eyes for only a second, but you noticed that dark glaze over his eyes, just like the time before. “Are you going to take off your pants, or am I gonna have to do that for you?” You said, which just made him smirk, he pulled his jeans down his legs and you could already see the tent that had formed in his boxers, which only made you want him more. You pulled him back in for another kiss, this time it was more heated. His hands were on your hips, guidning them as you rolled your hips into his tent, deepening the kiss. Finally, he decided that he needed you, he needed you now. His right hand left your hip and swiftly snagged your panties down your legs and onto the floor. He slid his boxers onto the floor as well and pulled your closer to him again. “Rog, we’re just gonna do this on the counter?” You whispered, and he nodded. “What if someone hears us and comes downstairs?” You asked, resting your hands on his shoulders, the dark glaze left as he looked at you, almost with puppy dog eyes as he spoke. “It’ll be fine y/n, they’re exhausted, and you’ll just have to stay quiet.” He smirked at you and you smiled back. “That may be hard.” You whispered back and then resumed kissing him. He pushed you back gently, so you were laying down on the counter, which was the perfect height for you and Roger. He slowly put himself in, which made your fists squeeze up into balls. He looked down at you and put one finger over his mouth, ensuring you stayed silent. Roger began thrusting slowly and gently, this made it easy for you to stay silent. He put one hand on your lower stomach to keep you from squirming as he started to move faster. You felt yourself struggling to not make noise as his pace gradually sped up, his hand pressing down harder and harder on your stomach. Your throat burned as an attempt to keep quiet. “Rog.” You breathed as a signal for him to either hurry up or cover your mouth. His hand moved from your stomach and reached to cover your mouth strongly, while his free hand moved to your hips, to assist him with the thrusting. You squeezed your eyes shut, as you needed to relieve some kind of sound. But before you could do that, he pulled out and pulled you up so you could finish it all off. “Can I finish on-” You interrupted him buy hopping off the counter and sticking it in your mouth, which brought him to his finish. You swallowed everything he had let out, which impressed Roger. 

            “God you’re somethin’ else y/n.” He said wrapping his arms around your waist. “So I’ve heard.” You whispered back with a proud smile on your face. He looked at you in a way you hadn’t seen before, but you couldn’t quite tell what it was. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked a small smile playing on your lips. He shook his head and laughed quietly. “I’m just tired now y/l/n.” He said as he put back on his boxers and held his jeans in his hands. “I’m going to bed now.” He said before walking downstairs towards your rooms. You stood behind the counter dumbfounded, he was avoiding something, and you just wanted to make him admit it. His attitude after made you feel like he had just used you, but you figured that he was just tired. Just as you went to follow him downstairs you heard someone walking from upstairs. “Shit.” You whispered, and before you could make a run for it, Deaky had walked down the stairs. “Y/n? What the bloody hell are you doing? It’s one in the morning.” He said, frustrated. Luckily you were standing behind the counter so he couldn;t see that you were butt naked, but your shirt remained. “Uh, I-Um, I wanted some water.” You said, hoping he wouldn’t come any closer. “Okay well can you get it quietly? I’m trying to sleep here.” He said before turning around and walking back up to his room. “Jesus.” You whispered in relief before grabbing your pants, turning off the lights and running down to your room. After you had changed into your warm pajamas, you crawled into bed and began to drift off to sleep. Roger was completely right, you were craving him, and you felt like maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t be able to stop.

Series Taglist & Some New Friends: @triggeredpossum​ @toger-raylor​ @antoouu​  @s-e-l-e-c-t-i-v-e-listener​ @creativedogs​ @wvnhedas​​ @rockyroadthepastryarchy​   @coltonthekanima​ @anna1523​ @fandomshit6000​ @shutup-sorry​ @a-crowd-of-newsies​ @butterfliesflewaway​ @ultrunning​ @unicorntrooper​ @digicharr​​ @howmanymoregalileos​ @sargent-barnes​ @sincereleygmg  @ultrunning​ @illfoandillfie​ 

[ptersparkers]

happy father’s day (the adventures of y/n stark)

summary: a regularly updating collection of vignettes that detail the life and adventures of y/n stark, a self-proclaimed baker, thrill seeker, and an all around good person.

a/n: hey, folks! i’m back with another fic for this series after a (tiny) hiatus because i was away with friends for the weekend. also i just want you guys to know that i recently started a job so that’s hindering my writing time just a little, but i see your request!

masterlist / taglist

“Do we have enough cheddar and mozzarella cheese?”

“Yes, Dad,” you said as you rolled your eyes. “I’ve made grilled cheeses before. I made sure we had enough yesterday so Morgan and Peter get some too.”

“Okay, okay,” Tony said, putting his hand up in mock surrender. “I know you’re thoughtful but so am I.” You chuckled and pushed the grocery cart towards another aisle.

“That’s true. What time is Peter coming home?”

“Two, I think. I asked him to pick Morgan up from her friend’s house and it’s a ten minute walk.”

“Tea,” you said nonchalantly, putting a bag of Cheetos in the cart.

“Don’t tell Pepper I let you eat those,” he said, putting his index finger to his lips. You copied his movements and shared a laugh afterwards.

“Do we have apple juice stocked up? I don’t think I remember seeing it.”

“In the back. I had to hide it from Thor so he couldn’t drink it,” Tony said. “God knows he chugs that like it’s water.”

“I mean, I felt that,” you said as you walked through the first register that was open.

“O-Oh my god,” you heard the young girl, about your age, say as she saw you and your father from begin the cash register.

“Yes, yes, it’s me,” Tony said playfully.

“Y/N Stark!” she blurted. “And Tony, too.” Tony feigned being offended, which made the young girl blush. “I-I’m sorry, I just think you’re really cool.”

“Cooler than my Dad?”

“Kinda?”

“You just won my heart,” you said, putting your hand over your chest.

“Would it be okay if we got a photo together?” she asked shyly.

You looked at your father. “Care to do the honors, geezer?”

“Whatever the daughter wants, the daughter gets,” he said and shrugged while taking the phone from the girl behind the register. Tony gave you a thumbs up before paying for the groceries and walking to the car.

“I’m awesome,” you said as you shut the passenger side door.

“Yeah, but not as awesome as me,” Tony said with a wink.

***

You got back to the compound earlier than Peter and Morgan and began putting away the purchased goods in the fridge and pantry. Soon after, you could hear Morgan’s feet running across the wooden floor, giggling as a laughing Peter walked behind her.

“He’s funny!” Morgan exclaimed when she approached you. You halted putting away the food and bent down so you were at Morgan’s level.

“Not funnier than me, right?”

“Definitely!” You tapped the tip of her nose with your finger and she laughed, to which you picked her up and placed her on your hip until you were finished unpacking the groceries.

“Aunt May says hey,” Peter said as he sat in front of the kitchen island. “She’s gonna spent Father’s Day weekend with her parents so I’ll be here until Sunday night,” he explained.

“Ugh, boys are so gross, aren’t they?” you said, winking at Morgan.

“The grossest,” she said, confirming with a nod. You both bursted out laughing, leaving a pouting Peter.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” you said. “I’m making us all grilled cheeses later. Custom, of course. When Pepper gets back from her meeting, I’ll start making them so we can sit back and relax until it gets dark.”

“Good, because I’m starving. A growing boy needs grilled cheeses,” he said, patting his stomach.

“Peter, you stopped growing a year ago.” Tony walked in and put his hands on Peter’s shoulders.

“He won’t stop growing until I tell him to stop,” he commented.

“Growing into a dumb bitch,” you muttered.

“Can I have a grilled cheese with some chicken?” Morgan asked. “Like the way you did it this weekend.”

“You, my friend, gave great taste,” you said as you handed Morgan to your father.

“You both get your love of food from me,” Tony said. “Morgan, can you go change into some pj’s for me?”

“Can I do it alone?” she pleaded with wide eyes.

Tony smiled and nodded. “Of course, honey. Pick something you like and come running back, you hear?”

“Okay!” Morgan yelled as she ran down the hallway.

“So, Pete,” Tony began. “How’s May doing? I haven’t seen her since last month and I want you guys to come back and have dinner with us.”

“She’s been good!” he said. “She’s been really swamped with this proposal at work, and then her friend came to stay with us for about two weeks. May’s been really busy but I’m sure she’d love to come over.”

“She’s with her parents this weekend, right?”

“Mhm,” Peter said as he bit into an apple that was in a fruit bowl.

“I’m home!” Pepper said, emerging from the corner and taking off her heels. “I’ve turned my phone off, which means we are not going to be disturbed until Monday.”

“Grilled cheese?” Morgan asked as she scampered back into the kitchen.

“I’ll get ‘em started,” you said. Tony walked to your side and handed you the bread, taking the slices out and putting butter on the sides. You have him a quick smile before going to work.

“Anyone want some strawberry banana smoothies?” Pepper asked as she pulled the fruits out of the fridge.

“Make me two,” Peter said as Pepper laughed. “What? You know I love fruity drinks.”

“How about you, Morgan?”

“Just a little,” she said, stretching before Peter helped her sit on the counter top.

“Dad, can you get a few plates for me?”

“Do I have to do everything around here?” Tony joked as he rolled his eyes, making you burst of laughing.

“Hey! I’m making you my famous grilled cheese. It happens to be the only thing I make that you and Morgan like.”

“I’m in the mood for nostalgic foods,” he said with a shrug. “Plus, you make a killer sandwich.”

“Whatever you say, Dad. I’m gonna plate these and meet you guys outside,” you said, jutting your head to the sliding glass door Peter was walking out of. “I’ll have the sandwiches on a tray in a jiffy.”

“Okay, kiddo,” he said before kidding the crown of your head. “Don’t burn mine!”

You balanced all the sandwiches comfortably on a tray, making sure you turned off the stove and that none of the plates would fall off as you made your way to the pool area where Peter and Morgan splashed around. You grinned at the two, thankful that Peter had never complained about keeping Morgan company when he was asked or when she begged him to play. 

“Sandwich time!” you yelled, grabbing the attention of everyone who was preoccupied. Morgan yelled in excitement and swam as fast as she could until she reached the steps of the pool, not bothering to wrap herself in a towel. Peter followed suit and wrapped his towel around his waist and Pepper came from behind you with Tony by her side. 

“None of them are burned. I’m impressed,” Peter said, mocking you. 

“Next time I make you food, I’ll burn it just for that comment,” you replied. 

“Don’t tell Daddy, but it’s better than his,” Morgan said in a not-so-quiet whisper. You laughed and Tony feigned being offended as Pepper shook her head at his antics. 

“Okay, jokes aside,” you began as you handed out the plates, “I want to get cheesy for a second.”

“Oh no, Y/N’s getting cheesy,” he said, holding his sandwich up for emphasis. 

“As I was saying,” you continued. “This is my father’s world and we’re just living in it. But, I can’t say that I’m disappointed because I’m really happy that he’s the man he is today. Iron Man or not, I don’t think this world would be any better without him in it.

“It’s funny, you know. I remember when I was twelve and he refused to buy me a flip phone because I wanted it only to fit in with the girls in middle school. I think that was the first time I realized he wasn’t going to hand me things just because I want it. I think that’s one of the best lessons he’s ever taught me; that it’s important to know what you want and figure out a way to achieve it. I’m still trying to understand that part, but I know I’ll get there.”

“To Tony,” Peter said, raising his smoothie before everyone clinked glasses.

“You know,” said Tony, “I never imagined myself having a stable family who would love me as much as I love them. Morgan and Pepper, you’ve given me so much joy in the last decade. Peter, I’m honored to be your mentor and to have someone as intelligent as you to work with. Y/N, I’m truly lucky to be your father. Never in my life have I loved anything more than you.” 

“I’m crying,” you said, both literally and ironically as Tony pulled you in for a loving hug. “Happy Father’s Day, Dad.”

Tony smiled down at you. “I love you, kiddo.”

***

@kath94210 @sessi03 @olliekookie @edgyhargreeves @simonsbluee @meraki--me @sleep-i-ness @amourski @zaynjawy @captainlarsonn @katiemcrae @holyhellthatbook @madeismyname @bands-and-shietz @janndishstuff17 @janndishstuff17 @knightofreaders.

[malakhai-ozera]

Discord Thread|| Khai & Shea

Discord thread featuring: Malakhai Ozera & Shea Morgan ( @shea-morgan​ )

Mentions: Emily @warmvlbes, Roman @romanbeckett

When: July 19th

Description: Khai and Shea meet up for a jam session and Khai kisses Shea.

Trigger Warnings: None

Shea Shea kept his drums in the garage space he rented on the first floor of his apartment building. He told Khai to meet him there and made his way down. It was a typical garage band space and the lights flickered if they played loud enough. He left the door opened until Khai arrived and flopped down on the couch to scroll through his phone while he waited.

𝕂нαι As soon as Khai arrived he knocked on the open door. Popping his head in with a smile and his hands filled with bags. “Hey babe, I brought you breakfast for dinner. Hope you’re hungry.”

Shea Shea sat up when he heard the knock. “That looks like a lot of food for breakfast, damn,” he said and got up to grab a bag from him. “Is this take out or did you cook it?”

𝕂нαι “Yeah, it is” he laughed. Handing Shea a bag and following him inside. “I made it. It’s an English breakfast. Bacon, fried eggs, sausage, mushrooms, baked beans, cheese toast, grilled tomatoes, and some butter  tea.” He took a seat on the couch and opened one of the bags before pulling out a bottle of butter tea. Shaking it as he smiled at Shea. “Don’t worry. My dads a chef. Taught me everything I know.” He’s probably said that before. But right now he couldn’t remember.

Shea Shea opened the bag to peek inside as he followed Khai to the couch and sat down next to him, making a 4 with his legs and opening the food while he shook a bottled tea. “Holy shit,” he muttered. “And here I was expecting like cereal or a muffin. But then again I think Emily mentioned you were a little chef. I wasn’t aware that’s what you’re father did...” he looked at Khai. “Maybe you said it and I was too drunk and stoned to remember. He’s in England right?”

𝕂нαι He watched Shea as he leaned back into the couch and nodded his head. “Yeah, he wanted me to take over for him but... then I wasn’t good enough. So fuck him” he snickered. “But yeah, he’s in England. He’s gotta whole chain out there.” He took a drink of his tea and looked around the garage. “This is a nice set up babe. Very private.”

Shea She’s nodded, “alright yeah, fuck em, because this smells amazing.” He looked down deciding what to try first, picking out a piece of bacon with his fingers and taking a bite. He nodded again  and muttered, “yeah fuck him,” quietly, enjoying his bacon. Then he looked back over at Khai and snorted. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you drink something that’s not tequila.” Then he nodded. “Yeah my band mates and I split the rent, it does the job.”

𝕂нαι Khai smiled as Shea muttered under his breath and then stood up to walk around. “Oh yeah? That’s a shame. You got any tequila?” he asked raising his brow. “I like it”’he said softly going over to the mic and tapping it softly.

Shea Shea chuckled a little. “I don’t know if I have tequila but there might be a bottle of gin in the cooler that hasn’t been opened,” he mentioned watching Khai. Shea shoved his food aside and reached down on the other end of the couch to flip the switch to the amp the mic was connected too. “Are you going to serenade me with some music while I dine?” He laughed.

𝕂нαι Looking over to Shea with a grin he nodded his head. “Maybe later. You know I’m gonna need my fix eventually.” Once the amp was on he tapped the mic again. “I could...  but I don’t wanna make you puke” he teased. “Besides, what would I sing?”

Shea Shea laughed a little. He ate a little more of Khai’s food before shutting the container. He got up and pulled out the acoustic guitars from the case on the floor. He sat down on a stool. “I might be rusty so excuse me if I mess up,” he started. He strumed a couple times before he started playing the cords to the Killers song. He started singing some of the lyrics to get Khai started, with a cheeky smile on his face, “coming out of my cage and I’ve been doing just fine... “ it was always fun to fool around with cliche songs for warm up.

𝕂нαι Watching Shea he licked his lips and walked over to stand behind him. His eyes following his fingers on the strings as he played and started singing. “You have a good voice” he said nodding along to the music. “I don’t know the lyrics though” he laughed. Humming along to sheas voice as he continued to play.

Shea Shea shook his head, then he abruptly paused when Khai said he didn’t know the lyrics. “You don’t know this song!?” He asked in shock. “How do you not know Mr. Brightside?”

𝕂нαι “I know the song just not the lyrics” he chuckled. “Keep singing though, I like listening to you. He moved over to sit on the floor in front of him and looked up at him. “Serenade me mr. brightside.”

Shea Shea looked down at him with a raised eyebrow. “I’m really no singer.” He strummed the guitar a few times and laughed. “I feel like a youth paster like this,” he said before he slide off the stool and onto the carpeted floor. “You’re the singer here so we need to find a song you know the lyrics too.”

𝕂нαι Khai chewed his bottom lip as he sat indian style on the floor. A soft chuckle passing his lips as he watched Shea move to join him. “I told you, I’m more of an r&b singer. I do know some queen and some Aerosmith though.”

Shea Shea shrugged, “it doesn’t matter, sing whatever you want too.” He told him. “I can ... most likely follow along. We’re just warming up anyway.” He nodded at Khai. “Don’t get shy now, you’re the one that went to the mic,” he smirked.

𝕂нαι Khai laughed and shook his head. “Alright... hows this..” he cleared his throat. “ I could stay awake just to hear you breathin. Watch you smile while you are sleeping. While you're far away and dreaming “ He sang. His eyes looking straight at Shea

Shea Shea imediately knew the lyrics and waited for the second like to start strumming a few chords along to it. He nodded to coax him along. He smiled a little and continue to play for him.

𝕂нαι When shea started playing, Khai smiled. Licking his lips as he watched him before continuing to sing. “ I could spend my life in this sweet surrender. I could stay lost in this moment forever... Oh, every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure. Don't want to close my eyes.. I don't want to fall asleep. ‘Cause I'd miss you, babe, and I don't want to miss a thing “

Shea “*cause even when I dream of you, the sweetest dream will never do. I’d still miss you babe, and I don’t wanna miss a thing,” Shea sang along with the second part of the chorus and picking up his beat with his foot.    He continued to play until Khai was ready to stop. Then spoke up, “I’m not surprised you would pick the ballad,” he teased.

𝕂нαι Once they stopped singing Khai blushed softly. “Not surprised?” he asked with a soft laugh. “I have a ballad voice, what can I say? You though... so sexy” he nodded.

Shea Shea laughed a little. “Okay I won’t lie, you definitely have a pure voice.” Then he shook his head. “Absolutely not, I told you I’m not a singer. I really don’t know what you’re listing to that you think I’m good at it.” He laughed some more. “I think you should sing one of your songs now.”

𝕂нαι “Well thank you. I appreciate that” he continued to blush. Pushing his hair back as he shook his head. “You do not have a bad voice. I like it.” He nodded his head and licked his lips again. “Okay... another ballad?” he asked with a chuckle. “I have this one song... it goes... We're so late nights, Red eyes, amnesia, on ice. Late nights, red eyes, amnesia, I need ya.... Right now I can't see straight. Intoxicated it's true, When I'm with you. I'm buzzing and I feel laced. I’m  coming from a different phase. When I'm with you “He sang as his hand clasped together in his lap. His eyes watching Shea as he stopped singing and shrugged.

Shea Shea gave a soft sigh. “Well, thanks,” he finally accepted the compliment and half shrugged. Shea nodded at him as he decided on another song. He listened and nodded along for the first few lines. But instead of strumming he found himself taping the guitar with a slow beat along with Khai’s voice. He looked at him when he stopped. “There’s no more?” He asked, curious.

𝕂нαι “No, not yet” he shrugged. “It’s a work in progress. “Maybe I need some inspiration. He lifted to his knees and grabbed the guitar from Shea putting it to the side. Crawling a bit closer to the other boy before leaning over him. Their faces close enough to feel each other’s breath as he reached over him. “Sorry, just needed my tea” he grinned. His eyes falling to Sheas lips as he grabbed the bottle but didn’t move.

Shea Shea raised his eyebrows. “Emily’s not a good inspiration for it?” He mentioned before he flashed a confused expression when Khai took the guitar. Moments later he was too close for comfort and naturally Shea started to lean out of his way before he realized exactly what Khai was doing. He caught eyes with Khai briefly before he noticed them drop. “Yeah... just your tea,” he said, playfully mocking him.

𝕂нαι “Maybe it’s not about her” he replied. His eyes moving back up to Shea’s as he tried to back up from him. Khai placed his hand on Sheas face before smiling devilishly. “Mhm... for my tea” he nodded. Leaning in and kissing Shea softly on the lips.

Shea “So it’s about Roman...” he said quietly. His eyes were looking down until they trailed back up to Khai who was still leaning in close to him, now with his hand on Shea’s face instead of the tea. A moment later he was feeling Khai’s lips on his own. He blinked and his eyes widened a little even though he knew it was coming. He was actually surprised Khai held out all this time between all the flirting about it. It was a weird sensation, but Khai’s lips were just soft enough for Shea to not pull away and make things even more awkward.

𝕂нαι Khai just shook his head and ignored any indication Shea might not be comfortable with him so close. His lips pressing into the other males with a slow luring movement. His eyes were closed but he could feel Shea’s eyes on him. It made him smile against his lips as he continued to kiss him. His hand moving to the back of his head to grab a fist full of curls. Toying at the boys lips with his tongue like asking for permission to enter his mouth.

Shea Khai continued to go for it, and for a moment, Shea was just letting it happen. It was just a kiss right? Until Khai’s hand was in his hair and his tongue on his lips. Shea contimplated entertaining this, but then convinced himself this wasn’t right. He pressed both of his hands into Khai’s torso to push him off a little bit, and pull his head back, breaking the kiss. “Um,” he tried to say something, but that was the extent of what came out of his mouth and then he swallowed hard. Unable to think of how to say anything really.

𝕂нαι Khai was fully expecting Shea to stop him. He was honestly surprised it lasted as long as it did. When he was pushed back he let go of Shea’s hair and whined softly. Sitting  back on his knees as he watched the other males reaction. “Was that okay?” he asked. Licking his lips before pulling the bottom between his teeth.

Shea Shea’s expression was mostly blank. He too licked his lips. Suddenly his mouth felt dry & adrenaline flipped his stomach. He started at khai for a few more moments before he cleared his throat and sat up, pushing khai back with his hands some more. “I um, I should go, I gotta get up early for work tomorrow,” he said quietly. He scooted back to stand up and turned around. He placed 4 of his didgets over his lips for a moment, before he turned to pick up the guitar and put it back.

𝕂нαι When Shea pushed him it knocked him back and he caught himself with his hand. “Hey, wait” he said getting up to go after him. It wasn’t until he turned back aground to get his guitar that Khai stopped. “Stop, please” he asked. Placing his hand on Shea’s shoulder. “Don’t go please. I’m sorry.”

Shea Shea was putting the guitar back in the case. “This isn’t even mine I probably shouldn’t be playing it,” he muttered, before Khai touched his shoulder to stop him. He met Khai’s eyes finally. “Do you know what you just got me into?” He asked.

𝕂нαι Khai just watched Shea, he was obviously battling with what he just did. “No, I don’t” he said softly. “Shea, it’s just a kiss. I’m free to do what I want and I wanted to kiss you. If you don’t want that. I won’t do it again.”

Shea Shea just started shaking his head. Did he himself even know what he got into? For some reason it just felt like this shouldn't have happened, but Khai had a point. He still looked at Khai. "Don't you love Emily?"

𝕂нαι Khai just looked at Shea and shrugged his shoulders. “Of course I do. But, it’s not about that. I just wanted to kiss you. I’m sorry okay?” He moved his hand from Shea’s shoulder and walked over to where his tea was still sitting. “I’m sorry” he muttered again. Shea was his friend and above all else he felt like he just ruined that.

Shea Shea stepped back from him when he moved to go grab his tea. He reached up and pulled at his bottom lip before letting it snap back and looked at his feet on the floor. He heard his apology again, and he started chewing on the inside of his cheek. "Well don't..." he muttered quietly. He knew what Khai was like. Shea was his friend after all and was starting to think they were close. He knew Khai teased him about kissing and flirting but he never thought anything of it. Clearly it seemed like the close intentions were a whole different ball game with Khai and Shea did not want to get caught up in his roller coaster of a love life like this. He liked being his friend.

𝕂нαι “Fine, I won’t” he said softly. Khai had never met someone like Shea. Someone who was not only brutally honest. But someone who didn’t wanna take advantage of his body when it was offered to them. “I’m just gonna go” he said. Taking another sip of his tea before putting the cap back on. “You enjoy the breakfast. It’s all for you.” With those words he started to walk towards the door.

Shea Shea took in a breath and swallowed, almost like it felt like there was a lump in his throat. Why was he so upset over this? It bothered him more since he felt that way. But he shoved his emotions down his throat with the lump and nodded. He pushed his fingers through his hair. “Not really that hungry anymore but ... thanks,” he said to Khai as he was leaving.

[unfortunate-stranger-losers]

It’s the Hard-Knock Life - an ATWQ Modern AU [tumblr] [ao3] 

ONE - FIRST IMPRESSIONS (or, how Lemony got Annie banned from the Far East Apartment) 

Lemony slumped down at the table, glanced up at the empty chair, and said, “So, like, where the hell is our guardian?” 

S. Theodora Markson’s seat, which was always occupied at exactly 9:30am for breakfast (she insisted everyone follow schedule, though not a schedule that would interfere with her sleep), was suspiciously missing a large-haired, vaguely annoyed woman. 

Jacques, who was in his chair, as he always was, and was salting his scrambled eggs, as he always was, simply said, “She’s out.” 

“She has a life?” Lemony gawked, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. “I thought she just yelled at us, fucked off to the police station for eight hours, and then came back and slept for a hundred years.” 

“Don’t be rude, Lemony.” Jacques scolded. “Theodora has given us a home out of the goodness of her-” 

“She gets paid to watch us, Jacques.” 

“Just because foster parents are paid by the state-” 

“That’s why she has us, so she can afford alcohol.” 

“She’s not-” 

“Oh no? What do you think’s in the locked cabinet under her bed?” 

“First of all, why would you know-” 

“Lockpicking was the first thing Aunt A taught us, Jacques. I could do that before I learned how to read.” 

Jacques took a deep breath. “If you’ve drunk alcohol-” 

“Don’t fret, Jacques, it tastes like shit.” 

“Lem!” 

Thankfully for Lemony, Kit arrived late to breakfast- while not usual, per se, there had been some precedence for it before, if she was caught up in a book or project- and as she tied her hair back into its usual bun, she said, “Hey, shitbirds, when are the new kids arriving?” 

“Don’t call us shitbirds, we’re your siblings.” Jacques said. 

“What new kids?” Lemony asked.

Kit gave him a look. “Do you pay attention to anything Ms Markson says over dinner?” 

“No, I tune out and long for death. Or text Beatrice.” 

“Same thing.” Jacques muttered. 

Lemony flared. “Just because she’s goth doesn’t mean she’s fueling my depression, asshole.” 

“Seriously, you two,” Jacques groaned as Kit grabbed a breakfast bar, which had been left at her spot at the table. “What did Theodora say about language?” 

“Fuck that.” Kit sat down, smirking. “Anyway, L, she’s got two new foster kids comin up. Congrats! You’re a big brother! Or maybe little brother still. Depends on how old they are.” 

“Two new kids?” Lemony looked upset. “Are we gonna have to share beds?” 

“We’ll just have to clear all our clothes off the empty bunk bed.” 

“But that’s our closet!” 

“The closet is the closet, Lem.” Jacques groaned.

“No, that’s the prison for when Kit pisses me off.” 

At the same time, Kit said, “That’s his sulking closet.”

Jacques rolled his eyes. “Well, you better get it cleaned up before they arrive. Theodora said she’d be back after noon, but we better make our own lunch, because she’s treating the kids to McDonald’s or something like that.” 

“How come she doesn’t treat us to McDonald’s?” Lemony asked sourly.

“Because you’re a little monster.” 

“Okay, fair.” Lemony sighed. “But do I have to clean? I was hoping to go to Beatrice’s.” 

“Clean it before the new kids get here or I’m gonna hang you from the window like a clothesline.” 

“Okay, geez.” 

Lemony and Kit did manage to find room for their clothes in the closet, and Jacques made them clean up a little of the rest of the room, too- books in their proper places, socks in the sock drawer, schoolbooks in their backpacks. 

“I don’t see the point.” Lemony sighed, picking apart the grilled cheese Jacques had made them. “They’re moving in with us, they should know what they’re getting into from the get-go.” 

“We should make a good first impression, Lem.” 

“We should make an accurate first impression.” 

“And,” Kit said, glancing at the door, just as the lock began to turn, “First impressions start now.” 

She tossed the rest of her sandwich in the trash, grabbed Lemony’s and tossed it, too, and hauled her younger brother to his feet. Jacques jumped up, pushing Lemony’s hair back, as if he could make it more presentable that way. 

“Stop being dicks!” Lemony hissed. 

The apartment door opened, and Jacques led his siblings from the table, over the small border between the “living room” and kitchen- which, really, were only separated by the kitchen having wood floor and the living area having carpeting- and to the doorway, as S Theodora Markson entered, still untangling her driving helmet from her bushy hair, followed by a tall girl with night-black hair, a green duffel bag slung over her shoulder, and a garbage bag in her other hand. She glanced around at the other kids with a detached disinterest, her eyebrows curved a little like question marks, as a boy followed close behind, only carrying his trashbag. The boy was much smaller, with curly ginger hair, normal eyebrows, and hazel eyes, as opposed to the girl’s green. In other words, they didn’t seem to be related at all. 

“Right.” Theodora removed her helmet, tossing it into the corner. “Children, allow me to introduce your new siblings.” 

“Foster siblings.” Kit corrected. “They probably won’t even stay long.” 

“I won’t.” the girl said. 

“Now, now, don’t be rude. Be sensible. Be proper.” S Theodora said. She turned to the Snicket siblings. “Children, these are Jacques, Kit and Lemony Snicket. Snickets, these are Ellington Feint and Drumstick… what was your last name again?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” Drumstick sighed. 

“What kind of a name is Drumstick?” Lemony asked. 

“What kind of a nickname is Lemony?” Drumstick snapped. 

“Children!” S Theodora shouted, and Lemony begrudgingly went quiet. “Now, I have to return to work, so, Snickets, I expect you to get the new children settled. No troublemaking, no fights, and I also expect you to go over the rules, so that I won’t be bothered to do it.” 

“Of course.” Jacques sighed. 

“They’ll be going to school with you, and I expect you to stand up for them. People tend to bully orphans.” 

“I’m not an orphan.” Ellington snapped. 

“Of course you are, you have no parents. Children, I’ll return in time for dinner. Who’s making it tonight?” 

“Me.” Kit said. It was Theodora’s night, but nobody liked her cooking. 

“Excellent! Ellington, Drumstick, I’ll see you when I return.” 

With that, the woman grabbed her driving helmet, and ducked out. 

“Isn’t she lovely?” Kit said. “We’ve had her for the past- how long’s it been, L?” 

“Fifteen months, twenty-seven days. Don’t call me L.” 

“Right.” Kit said. “We’ve been expecting new kids for a while now-” 

“Because Theodora gets paid per kid.” Lemony said, gesturing. “Follow me, our room’s this way.” 

“We’re sharing a room?” Drumstick asked nervously. 

“Not enough space for more than one kids’ room. Don’t worry, we change in the bathroom.” 

“Now, Lemony-” Jacques ran to catch up, as the new children followed him, and Kit fell back to walk by Ellington, “Theodora’s fostering us because she cares about us.” 

“Yeah. If we die, she doesn’t get paid.” 

“Lemony!” Jacques turned to the others. “I’m sorry about him. He’s a pessimist.” 

“He’s realistic.” Kit said under her breath. 

“It’s fine, we get it.” Ellington said. “Don’t worry about us, though. I’ve been to twelve foster homes in the last two months, so I don’t expect to stay long.” 

“Twelve in two months?” Kit whistled. “How’d you manage that?” 

“Kept running away. Plan to continue.” 

“Please don’t.” Jacques said, holding open the door to their room. “You could get hurt.” 

“And we’ll get in trouble for it.” Kit added. 

Ellington walked into the room, scanning it slightly. Then she said, “Kid, you’re staying longer. You want top or bottom bunk?” 

“Um…” Drumstick adjusted his hold on his bag. “I’m not great with heights.” 

“Well, I am, that works out.” Ellington swung her duffel up onto the top bunk, and then sat down, opening the trashbag. “My shit’s in here, but it probably won’t stay long. Might as well set up my record player, though.” 

“Why do you still have a record player?” Lemony asked, sitting on his bed and grabbing his laptop. 

“Why do you look like a goth Eddie Kaspbrak?” 

“Okay, so, first off,” Kit clapped her hands together, as Drumstick dragged his stuff to the bottom bunk and opened his bag, “Um, Rule One is we’re supposed to try to get along.” 

“Keyword being ‘try.’” Lemony said, already loading up Discord in order to tell his associates why he was stuck at home that day. 

“Kit, I can go over the rules-” Jacques began. 

“No, they won’t listen to you, you’re a little bitch.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Drumstick flinched, pulling some clothes out of his bag. “Where do I put-” 

“That dresser’s empty, unless Kit’s adopted cockroaches again.” Lemony gestured. 

Jacques groaned, as Kit said, “Yeah, rule number two, Jacques is our designated bug killer, I’m the designated bug freer. Choose wisely which one you want as your ally. Um, let’s see… you have to be home before 10:00pm every night, breakfast is at 9:30am and if you don’t show up you don’t get food, piss off Ms Markson and you get put on probation- don’t ask, we don’t know what it entails, either, but she can ground us from things we like so watch out for that.” 

Drumstick pushed his clothes into a single drawer- he didn’t seem to have very many- and Lemony asked, “Why do you have your stuff in trashbags?” 

Drumstick flinched again, and so did Ellington, who was pulling black clothes out to stuff somewhere. Kit and Jacques both shot Lemony angry looks, too. 

“Um… it’s the only bags the social services workers had for us.” Drumstick muttered. 

“It doesn’t matter.” Ellington said again. “I’m leaving soon as I get the chance.” 

“Good luck.” Lemony snorted. “We’re on the thirteenth floor and Theodora keeps the doors locked.” 

“Yeah,” Jacques said, “Because someone kept picking the locks and going out for root beer floats.” 

“I could’ve jumped onto a train. You’re just lucky my need for food outweighs my need to get as far away from Theodora as I possibly can.” He glanced at his Discord. “Oh, uh, new kids on the block? Jake says hi.” 

“I don’t know who that is.” Drumstick said. 

“Wait, more rules.” Kit said. “No polka, or Lemony will kill you. Frozen sing-a-longs are mandatory. Snitches get stitches, so if you see me sneak someone in and out-” 

“Which won’t happen, because nobody wants to hang out with you, let alone date.” Lemony said. 

“Uncalled for.” Kit didn’t even flinch. “Long story short, we don’t snitch on each others’ activities to Ms Markson. You’ll get beat up soon as she leaves.” 

“That’s not a rule.” Jacques said, confused. 

“It is now. Personal property is just that- personal. Don’t steal our shit, we don’t steal yours. We each swap out dinner-making days but you can probably convince Ms Markson to let you skip that if you suck at cooking.” 

“I can make vegan stuff.” Drumstick said, pulling a pair of shoes from his bag and settling them under his bed, and then pulling out another pair. 

“Good. That’s a start.” Kit said. “If Lemony sends you a secret message, you hand it over to us.” 

“Hey!” 

“No poison in the sugar bowl, we’ve already tried that. You can’t skip school or we get in trouble. We will not sit in detention with you, either. Embarrassing stories are to be kept to a minimum. Anything told in the Secrets Closet is secret.”

“What’s the Secrets Closet?” Drumstick asked, while Ellington finished putting her dresses away and scampered up the ladder to her top bunk. 

“There’s a closet behind the pantry,” Kit said, “Which is hard to find, so obviously Theodora doesn’t know about it. Anything we tell each other in there is not to be told to anyone, or we’re legally allowed to kill each other.” 

“That’s what happened to the last kid.” Lemony said. 

“That’s a joke!” Jacques clarified quickly, as Drumstick dropped his fourth pair of shoes in shock. “He’s joking!” 

“Sure I am.” 

“Oh! Also, Annie is banned in this house.” 

Ellington paused. “Annie what?” 

“Annie.” Kit said seriously. “The musical, the 1982 film, the 1999 film, the 2014 film, the comic strip, the stage musical sequel-” 

“There’s a sequel?” Drumstick asked. 

“There’s only one good song.” Kit said. “Anyway, it got banned because of our dickfuck of a baby brother.” 

Lemony sighed. “All I did was point at the TV every time Ms Hannigan came onscreen, turn to Theodora and say ‘that’s you.’” 

To their surprise, Ellington laughed a little at that. She opened her duffel bag, digging through it. “Good one, Snicket lad. So, why are you here?” 

Kit cocked her head to the side. “Pardon?” 

“Foster care.” Ellington said. “Is Theodora your aunt or some shit?” 

Drumstick paused. “Um, El- Ellington, I don’t know if that’s- is that rude?” 

“Don’t care.” she pulled a bag of coffee out of her duffel. “Why you lot here?” 

Kit glanced nervously at Jacques, and he cleared his throat. “Well, um, our- our parents died when we were four and Lemony was a baby, and our Grandpa had us for a while, then he went to jail- long story- and we went to our aunt, then her sibling, and then-” 

“A lot of places.” Lemony said, glaring down at his screen. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Yeah, doesn’t matter.” Kit nodded. “Cause we stick together. We Snicket siblings look after our own.” 

“Oh, good for you.” Ellington said, still digging through her bag. “Drum and I aren’t so lucky. Isn’t that right, Drum?” 

“Ellington-” 

“We’re together in this case cause we were hiding out in the same coffee shop.” Ellington said. “Me from CPS, him from his bastard dad. CPS found us and they just… shoved him with me, I guess.” 

“Ellington, we don’t need to go over this.” Drumstick said shakily. “I don’t like being here either, but we need to make the… the best of it.” 

“I’m not making the best of anything.” Ellington said. “I’m not an orphan. My Dad’s coming back for me. Or I’ll find him. But he didn’t abandon me and he’s not dead so I’m only here until he comes back.” 

They were silent for a good, long while, the four other kids sharing looks. 

Then, quietly, Kit said, “Hey, newbs. You wanna see something cool?” 

Ellington sighed, while Drumstick slid his last pair of shoes with the rest and said, “What?” 

“Come on down here.” Kit said. Hesitantly, Ellington slid down the ladder, and Lemony sighed and shut his laptop. The children grouped in the center of the room, and then Kit stepped back and shut off the lights. 

Up, on the ceiling above them, several lights twinkled, sparkling above them; they’d been impossible to see with the lights on, but now they shone down. Drumstick gasped, and even Ellington’s green eyes widened with shock. 

“Glow-in-the-dark paint.” Kit smiled. “All of us made some constellations up there. You can add on, if you want. When you want. Gives us a night light.” 

“And it’s pretty.” Jacques added. 

Ellington hesitated, and then said, “You guys paint?” 

“Only a little.” Kit admitted. “But my friend R is an astronomer, so she helped us design the thing. We still need some more stars, though, if you’re up for it.” 

Ellington bit her lip and glanced at the ground. Drumstick looked from her to Kit, and then to Lemony and Jacques. 

Kit flicked the lights back on, and then said, “Ellie-girl, why don’t you show us some of your records?” 

Ellington didn’t meet her eye, but she did shrug. “Sure.” 

“And Drum, tell us why you have so many fucking shoes.” 

Drumstick smiled a little. “Shoes are an interest of mine.” 

“Oh, like my writing.” Lemony said. “And like Jacques’s murder mystery novels and Kit’s engineering, and Theodora’s hair.” 

Ellington smiled, and the Snickets were surprised to see that her smile could have meant anything. “Yeah, meant to ask you. What is up with the hair?” 

“Don’t know, don’t care.” Lemony smiled. Then, he said, “Oh! Kit, you forgot one more rule.” 

“Which one?” 

Lemony grinned. “The unlocked liquor cabinet under her bed is totally off-limits.” 

Drumstick’s face turned as red as his hair, Ellington let out a real, delighted laugh, and Jacques screamed, “Lemony, you’re thirteen!”

[tarnishedhalo]

♛ fill in about the muse.

Kitchen:

What is the character’s favourite food?: Riley’s pretty much a fan of most food, and the meatier the better. His hands down favourite though is a perfectly grilled {wood or charcoal prefered over gas} porterhouse or new york strip steak, medium rare. Paired with baked potatoes, a garden salad with ranch dressing, Irish brown bread, and cherries flambe` for desert. Are they good at cooking? How good/bad?: Riley’s hobby aside from playing guitar is cooking, which he’s been doing for 18 years. It started out simple, whatever he could make and get his sister to eat {he taught her the values of ‘how do you know you don’t like it if you don’t try it’ and ‘if you have food on your plate, you’re fuckin’ grateful for it’}. As he grew older and his palate more refined, he started taking professional cooking classes and sometimes thinks about retiring and opening a restaurant. Do they leave the dishes out?: By virtue of being raised in a military household and then being military himself, everything has a labeled space, and he demands things be put where they belong. There is a rotation schedule for prep-cooking, meals for the week, and who does the clean up. What kind of food is in their refrigerator?: Everything in the fridge is organized by shelf. The staples include: organic half gallon of milk, cream for his sister’s coffee, butter, yogurt, eggs and cheese. In the vegetable drawer he keeps tomatoes, cilantro, spinach, carrots and celery. In the deli drawer is sandwich fixings. There is always bacon and orange juice in the house. He keeps his beer in the mini-fridge of the bar area. Do they cook, eat out or get take-away/delivered food more?: Riley makes sure he and his sister eat breakfast and dinner, she’s usually on her own for lunch. Take out is reserved for weekend nights or if he’s working late. Once or twice a month they go out to eat {although he sees this more as a nightmare and chore than a treat because of the dreaded conversation: “Where do you wanna go?” “Inokea.” “You have to care.” “I pick las’ time.” “So where do we wanna go?” “I said inokea.” <Riley chooses restaraunt> “I no really like dat place.”

Just...shoot him. Its easier that way.

Living Room:

How does the character spend weekends?: Being a cop {or in some cases, a SHIELD agent}, doesn’t leave him with weekends. When he does have a day off, he likes to spend time at home, puttering in the kitchen, or playing guitar. A typical “Saturday” for Riley is taking his sister out shopping or whatever charity thing she’s doing, then spending the afternoon/evening at home either playing or listening to his extensive vinyl collection and cooking. What kind of movies does the character watch?: Riley has a passion for Westerns and B-Horror movies, he likes most rom-coms, but tends to avoid cop-dramas or things that he sees on a day to day basis. He absolutely loves sci-fi, fantasy and historical movies. What do they do with friends?: Driving aimlessly, fishing, playing in garage bands/dropping on open Mic nights. He likes dancing. What’s their favorite pastime?: Playing Guitar, going to the shooting range, fishing, driving. Really anything that gets him out of his own head. What’s their favorite TV show/Film?: His favourite movies are: Tombstone, The Untouchables, Braveheart, and The Wedding Planner. His favourite tv shows are all 19326783 versions of Star Trek, Game of Thrones, and Firefly.

Bathroom:

How does the character prepare in the morning?: Riley is up, like it or not, at 4.30am every morning. He climbs out of bed, and pushes himself over to where he keeps his leg, hooks it up, and dresses for a two mile run. By 5.30 he’s back at home, showers, makes coffee and plans breakfast. He’ll read the paper and enjoy a cup of coffee either on the fire-escape or up on the roof, before he comes back to wake his sister and feed her before work.  Do they sing in the shower?: Usually. What kind of hair product/make-up do they use?: Much to his sister’s horror, Riley uses TIGI Bedhead for Men and probably spends a good fifteen minutes getting his hair to look spiky but messy. How clean is this character?: Riley showers every morning and most nights end with him in the tub for theraputic purposes. There are certain times he’s not in a position to do so but he makes every effort to be clean. However, he sometimes forgets to shave, now that he is no longer in the Air Force. Does the character have thousands of shampoo/shower gel bottles by the shower, or do they use only the bare essentials?: Riley’s side of the bathroom is pristine compared to his sister’s. He keeps: One bottle of shampoo and conditioner { Paul Mitchell Awapahui shampoo and conditioner}, and his hair gel. He uses bar soap, Neutrogena Naturals avocado and olive oil. He has A bottle of cologne, and doesn’t bathe in it like some of these younger pups do. When he bothers to shave, he’ll use whatever face cream his sister keeps laying around afterward.

Bedroom:

How do they sleep? (Position, sleeping habits, bedtime routines): Riley gets to bed when he can, which sometimes is days between. He sleeps on his back for reasons, or his side, providing he has support. He wears loose clothing. Getting into bed is a balancing act all of it’s own. He doesn’t really want to go into the details beyond that. A good third of the time he’s fresh out of the bath, and will either smoke a during or after his bath. What are their pajamas like?: He typically wears a muscle shirt and shorts.

What do they dream about usually?: If Riley’s lucky, there aren’t any dreams that he can remember. If he isn’t...well, there was a lot of things he’s seen both in the military and his life afterward. The worst one is the reoccurring Incident that took his leg and ended his life as he knew it. How neat/tidy are they?: Riley is well organized and precise. Everything has a place and a purpose. How affectionate are they?: Riley is extremely affectionate, both physically and verbally. He will compliment and offer words of love and encouragement to those he’s closest to, and if he knows a person well, he tends to express himself in random gifts, easy touches, and a degree of hugs and the like.

Attic:

What is the character afraid of?: Having to go back to using his wheel chair.Losing the people he loves either through direct violence or neglect. Being abandoned.  He has no fears whatsoever, he says. How do they deal with bad memories?:  A lot of Alcohol. What is this character’s role in a horror movie?:  He’s the cranky old man/drunk who ‘told you so’ and has to go and rescue the stupid young people {or other stupid old people} from whatever stupid horrific thing they got themselves in trouble with in the first place. He’s one part blue-collar-mage, one part officer friendly, and sometimes the one guy everyone expected to be the killer in the first place, depending on exactly how much stubble he’s got going on that day.  Riley would also like to point out, he wouldn’t be caught dead in a trenchcoat. How do they hide their secrets?: Riley hides his secrets by either not having them, or literally making people forget they ever found out.

vague tagged by: @corinnebaileyrp

vague tagging: Everyone Else, just hit me up so I can see your answers.

[ryeimagines]

Bruises - Isaac Imagine

I started writing, and this is what happened. Ily Isaac. Warning, possible triggers, mention of abuse though nothing really graphic. Some hurt Isaac.

It always felt so empty whenever Isaac wasn’t at school. Sure, you’d made a couple of other sort of friends but he was the one you first talked to when you moved here a couple of months ago now. You almost didn’t see him at first when Harris pointed to the only empty seat in the classroom, he was hunched over, scribbling in his notepad and startled when you sat down next to him, offering up a sheepish smile. That was the start of your friendship, hating on Harris because he’s a jerk and doing your projects together. He was a bit of a loner and you were new to the school so you ended up having lunch together everyday, which was really nice. You’ve grown really close the past couple of weeks and you like to think that you know him pretty well by now, he’s hiding something from you. There were these little things here and there, a self-deprecating comment, cancelling plans at the last minute, or the fact that you haven’t been over to his house yet. But the most troubling thing were the bruises, he’s been doing a good job covering them up, his pain. You’ve been trying not to push him to much on it yet, afraid that he’ll start pushing you away and ending up alone with no one but who ever it is.

Helpless to really do anything, you did what you could, by the look on his face when he got the chemistry test back it wasn’t good, so you became his study partner. During that time you’ve also realised that he really is smart, but he’s having trouble concentrating sometimes, or even doesn’t have much time to study between school and his job at the cemetery, which ugh. You had almost asked about it once, but changed the subject when you noticed him tensing up.

He has this way of carrying himself, hunched over like he’s trying to make himself blend into the background. You could could the times you had seen him smile, genuine, on one hand. Which is why you made it your personal mission to make him happy, because you really think he should live up to his name. Also, he looks absolutely beautiful when he does.

It wasn’t unusual for him to miss a day or two, and as much as it sucked you’d gotten used to it more or less, though everything seemed a bit duller whenever he was gone. Which is funny really, because he has never been much of a talker, or taking up to much space, which is complete polar opposite to Stiles and his friend Scott who are both on the lacrosse team with him. As much as you like seeing him with other people, you can’t help but to feel a bit jealous.

It didn’t surprise you when he didn’t show up Monday, but that was four days ago now and you had tried to call but there was no answer and you were starting to officially panic a little bit. Which is why you ended up skipping last period and borrowing Stiles’ jeep.

“She’s not just a car, she’s my baby. One scratch and you are a dead man walking.”He warned her before agreeing, probably seeing the concern on your face. “Hey, let us know how he is, okay?” Scott, sweet genuine Scott. You nodded before heading out. When you got to his house, finding the address thanks to Danny, you parked the car but didn’t move to get out. Maybe i’m just overreacting, he’s probably fine. I shouldn’t be here, he’ll be so pissed. You allowed yourself five more minutes of freaking out before taking a deep breath and knocking on the front door, clutching your bag on your shoulder. You had the speech prepared, just dropping off some homework for Isaac, everything would be okay. 

No one answered the door. Frowning, you made your way to the back of the house hand tried the backdoor that was slightly open. You knocked again before calling out, popping your head in. 

“Hello? Anybody home?I’ve got some school work for Isaac.” Stepping in to get a better look, your gaze fell on the mess on the kitchen floor, broken plates and glasses. An unsettling feeling washed over you. Dropping your bag on the floor, you searched through the house, having no luck in finding him anywhere. Okay, think. What do I do now? Heart pounding in your chest, you put your head between your knees and tried to breathe, doing the exercises your mom taught you. Counting always helped. Taking a final deep breathe, you slowly opened your eyes and that’s when you saw it, the door to the basement standing slightly ajar. You tried flicking on the lights but it wasn’t working.

“That’s not creepy at all.” You mumbled, bringing up your phone as a flash light to light the way while you descended down the narrow steps. Please don’t be a serial killer down here. If this was a horror film, this is where you would die. 

There wasn’t much to look at down there, it took you a minute with the faint light to do a full sweep of the basement. Your eyes were drawn to the freezer standing off the short wall right and for some reason you felt the need to look closer. There was a look on it, pretty rusty and judging by the look of it it had been used quite often. Suddenly a wave of nausea hit you, and without thinking, because those where dark thoughts indeed and you did not want to go there right now, you ran up to the garage and fetched the axe you saw there earlier and started swinging it. Just when your arms where about to give up, you heard it break open and you almost cried of relief at this point. Wasting no time you lifted up the lid and froze when you saw the figure curled in on itself. There was wounds all over his arms and forehead and he had shards of glass all over his hair and clothes. There was a mix of feelings that hit you all at once, pain, anger, disbelief, guilt, the need to wrap him up in a blanket and make him hot chocolate and never letting him set foot in this house again. 

“Isaac.”Was all that came out, barley a whisper, though it almost felt like shouting in the silence. His eyes slowly opened and you finally saw his beautiful pools of blue. You didn’t know you were crying, until you felt a soft hand brushing against your cheek and you leaned in to the touch for a second, before remembering that you need to get your shit together. This wasn’t about you, it was about him.

“We don’t have to talk about it right now, let’s just go home and clean you up a bit and I’ll make us something to eat, okay?” You didn’t mention anything about his father, or the house,  or if he wanted to bring any of his stuff. He nodded slowly and followed your lead. The first priority was to get him checked up, but he refused a hospital so you did what you could, stitching up his forehead and arm. “Where did you learn all this?” He asked, surprised, the first thing he’d said since you got home and you shrugged. 

“Got a lot of chances to train, I got good at it I guess.” You left it at that and sent him off to shower while you made some early dinner per his requests, “Grilled cheese and cocoa.” He returned quite a bit later, suspiciously red around his eyes and the sandwiches had gone cold but you didn’t care, putting on a disney movie because if there was one thing that always made you feel good, that was it. He fell asleep with his head on your lap halfway through and it honestly didn’t bother you at all, he looked so peaceful sleeping and he really needed the rest. He trusted you enough to be that vulnerable, and that made your day. It also stirred the hatred that you felt toward his father who hurt him like this, how anyone could want to hurt him was beyond your comprehension. He was the sweetest, genuine, caring person you’d ever met. But he couldn’t see that yet, nor hear how much you cared about him. But in time, he would learn, and you would be there.  You didn’t have a plan yet for what to do, but for now you were content sitting here brushing your fingers through his hair and just be. Whatever the future would bring, you would face it together because there was no getting rid of you now. Because you had a secret of your own, you’re in love with the curly haired boy and one day soon hopefully you could say it to him out loud.

[tebbyclinic11]

This 2-Ingredient Cheese Dip Is the Easiest Thing ...

New Post has been published on http://kitchengadgetsreviews.com/this-2-ingredient-cheese-dip-is-the-easiest-thing/

This 2-Ingredient Cheese Dip Is the Easiest Thing ...

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Having spent quite a bit of time over the last few years asking chefs how to recreate restaurant dishes at home, there is one word that always raises a red flag: “just.” I’ve usually asked them to describe the process behind some delicious and seemingly-simple item on their menu, crossing my fingers in hopes that it is every bit as straightforward as it seems—the kind of thing that our test kitchen could transform into a plainly-worded, not-too-complicated recipe that you, dear reader, could recreate at home—when that word comes out of their mouths, and I fight to keep from rolling my eyes.

“Okay, you just brine the chicken for three days, drain it, vacuum seal it, cook it sous vide for 15 hours at 145°, rub it with our signature 100-spice blend and then simply grill it over cabernet vines—even your dad could make it!”

“So easy! Just combine some of last-season’s dehydrated-and-powdered fermented Jimmy Nardello peppers with whatever leftover house-made sheep’s milk farmers’ cheese you have lying around, drizzle a bit of black garlic honey over top, a sprinkle of dill pollen, and you’re good to go—the perfect throw-together appetizer!”

You get the idea.

Which is why, when I was in Italy reporting the “Summer Like an Italian” story for our May issue last summer, I almost didn’t even bother to ask what was in the insanely-delicious, creamy-funky-sweet gorgonzola cheese dip that chef Ignacio Mattos had set out on the table. We had our recipe lineup set already, and there wasn’t room for the dip, so what’s the point in asking? But after spending a half hour hovering over the bowl like a vulture, plunging snap pea after snap pea after potato chip after grissini into the stuff, I caved.

“Ignacio, what is this stuff?!” I asked breathlessly, my mouth still full.

A little beleaguered after a long day of cooking for all of us, he drew a deep breath and said the word: “Oh, it’s easy, you just…” He paused—I assumed because the process was so complicated that he needed to collect himself before detailing it to me—and then continued. “You just put some gorgonzola dolce in a bowl and thin it out with a little heavy cream. Mash it up with a spoon. That’s it, pretty much.”

I was baffled, but also skeptical. How could something so complex and delicious be so simple to make? And also: the words “pretty much” weren’t sitting well with me. “Are you sure that’s all it is?” I asked.

“Oh, I think I added a little salt. And I drizzled a little olive oil on top at the end because it looks nice.”

And that really was it. I know, because I made him make another batch to prove it. (And because I had eaten most of the bowl.) Mattos took a wedge of gorgonzola dolce—a creamy, relatively-mild cow’s milk blue cheese with a texture almost like soft cream cheese—plopped it in a mixing bowl, and started to mash it up with a spoon. He drizzled in a little bit of heavy cream in at a time, stirring vigorously in between additions, until the mixture was the consistency of yogurt. He tasted it, added a pinch of salt, stirred again, and poured it into the serving bowl that I had almost single-handedly emptied. A drizzle of olive oil on top. Done and done.

lafromagerie.co.uk

A wedge of gorgonzola dolce, which you can find on Amazon Fresh.

I’ve served this dumb-simple dip many times since, and it has never let me down. It’s the perfect accompaniment to a platter of otherwise-virtuous cut vegetables, a killer dressing for an Italianate wedge salad (sub pancetta for the bacon if you’re feeling fancy), and absolutely slays with chicken wings. And if it has taught me anything—other than the fact that sometimes chefs actually do make simple food—it’s that, by and large, my own friends often regard my cooking with the same eye-rolling skepticism that I have for the chefs I’m so often trying to pull information out of. But seriously: This one actually is that easy. Just sayin’.

This is part of our May travel issue, devoted to Italy, subscribe here.

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[rueur]

Morning Pages #17 (23.01.2017)

Monday 23rd Jan - 9:11 a.m.

This was the day I was supposed to be done house-sitting, but alas I will still be here until the end of this week. I hope that my cold disappears before then at any rate, because I’m pretty certain that the cat hair is exacerbating my cold symptoms and might be hindering me from making a full recovery. I woke up this morning coughing up what I hope to be the last dredges of my phlegm, so that I can give my all to ‘We Are Their Children’ before finally being free of all my worldly commitments for the next month so that I can move on to focusing on the new school year and also on getting a JOB. I need money, badly.

Well, not badly. I can live off of my savings if I have to, but nobody wants to do that. As far as your savings go, it’s really all abstract money until you need to get a home loan. Then all that abstract positivity transforms into abstract debt and you’re still left with whatever funds are available to you on your checking account or that are coming in because you are a contributing member of society who is rightly awarded for said contributions. I don’t know, I’m a little bitter. The job market is horrendous in Melbourne, and I just keep feeling like my inability to drive is just keeping me from too many opportunities. I should just buckle down and get all my hours out of the way, I know. It just seems so impossible right now.

I just took a break to read an article on this website called ‘lovespanky’ (I know??), well two articles actually. The first was talking about when the appropriate time is to add a date on Facebook, and the second was about signs that your date likes you. I am a very insecure person, okay. I was talking to Dan about this yesterday, looking for the male perspective. That’s what Dan and I love about each other, is that we’re an open source for each other when it comes to the inner workings of men and women. Dan comes to me with his dating woes and I come to him with mine. I usually have a lot more than Dan though, he can be surprisingly self-reliant when he needs to be. Anyway, I was telling Dan about how Evan might’ve been holding himself back on the date, or he wasn’t as openly affectionate as he had been when we were at Laundry last weekend. I said that I figured that might be to even out how physical we got last weekend when we were dancing, because we were kissing quite a lot, and the chemistry was very much alive despite the fact that we hadn’t really spoken that much. That, and the fact that he had gotten really dressed up for the date, meant that he might’ve been wanting to treat our actual first ever date more traditionally than the way we had met. If this is the case, then he seems to be quite the romantic. There’s really no point in analysing this further, I know. I had a really fun time with him and I hope he did too. He probably did though. Otherwise he wouldn’t have told me that he feels comfortable around me already. I don’t know! I keep doubting this entire situation in my head, keep feeling like I’ve misconstrued things, but I know it’s just me being filled slowly and silently to the brim with self-hatred. My period still hasn’t arrived and my self-esteem is taking a bit of a blow in the midst of this demon cold, and the fact that I know that I’ll be totally worn out by the end of this week because of this horrendous show, and not because I’ve actually been doing productive work (work that is productive to ME) with my time.

I’m still stressing out slightly, about when I’ll be able to get Emily’s place ready for when she gets back. I just had a bit of a mild coughing fit again. I was feeling hopeful that this cold would be over and done with. I went out shopping last night and bought a few more ‘comfort food’ or recovery food-type things: spicy Tom Yum noodles and soup, oranges and mandarins, chocolate biscuits, mango and toasted coconut swirl ice cream (it’s going to be consistently hot this week, well in the mid twenties but with full sun), and some chips! And some chickpeas and spaghetti. I think that for breakfast today I will have some soup and the last of my bread, to make a killer grilled cheese sandwich. For dinner last night, I had a mandarin, two chocolate biscuits, the spicy Tom Yum noodles, and a spoonful of ice cream or two. I haven’t been eating super well, I mean super much, in the past few days and Sam said that it’s important that I keep myself well-nourished if I want to get over this cold. I also think that I should wash these sheets because I went against Emily’s will and let the cats sleep with me a couple of times, only because those nights were super hot and it seemed cruel to not let them in here considering Bruno’s poor disposition when it comes to weather extremes.

I think someone might’ve just knocked on my door twice? I don’t know if it was a neighbour, maybe complaining about my coughing or checking to see if I’m okay or something. I only got to the door with enough clothes in time to peep through the hole and see someone dressed in bright orange make their way downstairs. I don’t know who it was, honestly, but I feel a bit bad now. I should’ve answered, I should’ve actually registered that they were knocking on my door because I hadn’t. I mean they might not have been knocking on my door either, they might’ve been knocking on next door’s door. It’s hard to say. The knocks always sound really dull here.

I’m not looking forward to rehearsals today, or for the rest of this week, really. I just want this week to be over. Jacob sent me a message on Facebook asking if I’m free tomorrow afternoon and I actually don’t know if I’m free. I got a rehearsal timetable in the mail and I remember it saying something about there being a rehearsal scheduled for every day this week. This has been such a mismanaged show! I don’t think we’ve ever had a show by First Impressions that has been this tedious to rehearse. This tedious and shoddy. Okay, I think I know who had been knocking on my door. I saw a guy pass outside my window in bright orange work clothes. I think he might’ve been the landlord? I hope not, oh dude. I hope not. He might just be a guy doing maintenance here. Actually, that’s usually the landlord, isn’t it? I really don’t know. I should get dressed so that I can answer the door quickly if he comes back. I haven’t even had a shower or brushed my teeth or eaten yet. I’ve just been working on these pages. There are a million things to do in the morning here. I haven’t even cleaned the litter boxes yet!

This whole ‘keeping myself busy’ thing with looking after the cats and being on my own was really great for the first three or so weeks, but I just can’t do it with my cold right now. I fell asleep last night at around half past eleven without reading any of my books, just collapsing into bed. I was so exhausted from all the time I’d spent coughing yesterday. I had a whole day of coughing fits yesterday, I promise you. I was on the phone with Ikaros twice yesterday, and each time I just fell into a massive coughing fit. I was, however, in the apartment all day yesterday. I recognised that yesterday was probably the last full day I’d have off this week because of the show, so I didn’t do anything. I did a lot of writing, some reading, and I watched Mad Men and then I went shopping and then I had dinner and watched The I.T. Crowd, which I’m kind of excited to be watching again. It was before Chris O’Dowd became a Hollywood film star, before he was cast in roles as attractive, eligible American men, back when he was just a STANDARD NERD. It’s a little nostalgic. And Richard Ayoade too, who remains relatively unchanged despite now being a very talented director and writer.

I just took a break to read another article: ‘If, When - and How - to End an “OK-But-Not-Great” Relationship’. Yes, the name is hideous. It has shown me, however, what I think of Ikaros and I. We’re relatively happy, yes. We can make do with each other. But is that enough? I can argue that it might be if there were even security here, but there really isn’t. He devoutly believes in divorce yet doesn’t believe in marriage. His perception of women is questionable and he has little rational, independent thought when it comes to feminist issues or civil rights issues either, despite both of these being major concerns of mine that affect me socially as well, as a South-Asian woman. He also has very openly stated that he can never give me constructive feedback on my writing because he has no idea what’s happening in it. And I need somebody who can support me creatively. I can support him, so this is of no issue to him. In fact, I do support him. Don’t I deserve that too? Don’t I deserve somebody who can see me in my entirety?

I don’t want to dick him around. If I’m not in this with him entirely then I’m not in this and he shouldn’t be in this if I’m not in this. I just don’t want to hurt him, but you know what I need to be honest. I’ve been postponing finishing these morning pages, I think. I’m nearly at the end of my third page, I just don’t want to be talking about what I’m talking about now. Point-blank, Ikaros and I are very different people and it’s certain that we’ve both taught each other very useful things, shown each other a refreshing perspective in regards to most of the modern concerns of life. He’s taught me the value of self-care, and I’ve taught him the value of compassion and self-sacrifice. He’s taught me so much about the history of the world and of mankind, and I’ve taught him about literature and gardening, which is now a major hobby of his. Lauren told me on the first day we met that sometimes people take valuable lessons from other people, grow with them, and then they part ways. Sometimes it’s supposed to be that way. I’ve been thinking a lot more lately that we’re meant to part ways. I mean it will be hard. It will be incredibly hard. He was the first complete love of my life.