#and that shit gets downright Buttery

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

A whole head of LETTUCE!?! How long did it took you to finish it?

hm. i think... 10-15 minutes

[transgenderuwo]

finally set aside the time to thoroughly listen to the new red vox album. god it's kickass and makes Visions even better in retrospect. big fan of the callbacks to previous works like the return of New York Pigeons Doing Pigeon Things and the Blood Bagel reference ("lies aren't fatal unless they're the four letter kind" at the end of "Almost a Stranger").

ik it probably wasn't the intention, but the way vin's voice was processed makes me feel so nostalgic for mid-2000s boy-band vocals on mall pop. I haven't sung at length in a while, and my vocal range isn't a 1:1 match with vinny's – but damn, it's so difficult to resist singing along. "Forgetter" – especially its lyrics – felt kinda "meh" to me at first, but the more I listen to it, the more it grows on me.

fave song's a tie between "Eminence" for that unbelievable guitar (thank you chuck holy shit) and "Almost a Stranger" for its buttery-smooth, downright hypnotic vocals; fave video's gotta be "Playing by the Rules." album good! I get why people are Like That about bands now

[onthepyre]

cookies

virgil and roman try to bake.  it doesn’t go well

warnings: swearing, there’s some light angst but like. not really.

word count 1.1k

romantic prinxiety

also i didn’t proofread.  good luck folks

Virgil grins, and Roman can’t help but think how cute he looks.  

There’s flour in his hair, making it a soft white.  It covers the front of his shirt, too, and dusts the sleeves of his jacket.  A mixture of butter and sugar is smeared across his cheek, and he smells of the vanilla extract that has spilled on the countertop.  

“How did we fuck it up this bad, Princey?”

He’s right — Virgil looks clean compared to the rest of the kitchen, and their chocolate chip cookies, still raw but sitting on baking sheets, are mostly a buttery liquid.  

“I’m not quite sure, my dear.  But this definitely is not correct.”  

Virgil leaps up onto the countertop, narrowly avoiding a pile of spilled brown sugar.  Roman walks over and stands between his knees, resting his arms on Virgil’s shoulders.  “No shit.  Go put them in the oven, I want to know what they taste like.”  

Roman complies.  “Do you think fifteen minutes is alright?”  Virgil shrugs, and Roman sets the timer for seventeen minutes — just to be safe.  He returns to his former place, and Virgil leans down to place a soft kiss on his lips.  He tastes solely of flour.  Roman grimaces, exaggerating a bit for the sake of hearing Virgil's laugh.  He gets what he wants, a soft chuckle as Virgil knocks his forehead against Roman's own.

"I'm that gross, huh?"  There's no malice behind Virgil's question, just a joking sort of sarcasm.

"Downright disgusting.  The flour you're coated in has absolutely nothing at all to do with it."  Roman kisses him again, this time ignoring the thin layer of ingredients that coats them both.  It takes a few moments — and Patton's footsteps nearing the kitchen — for them to separate.  Roman doesn't hear Patton approaching, or doesn't seem to care, and is forced backwards as Virgil slides off the counter and scrambles to put distance between them.

Patton appears at last, and stands almost awkwardly in the entrance to the nearly-destroyed room.

"Oh, are you two baking?  I'm so glad to see you getting along!  What's in the oven?"  He bounces over and turns on the oven light to glance inside.  His investigation reveals little, and it takes Virgil's hoarse response for him to figure it out.

"Cookies.  Chocolate chip.  They, uh, aren't looking too hot."  Virgil clears his throat, crosses his arms over his chest, glances over a Roman.  

"Well, of course they're hot!" Patton announces.  "They're in the oven!"  Roman laughs, and Virgil shakes his head.  "But I see what you mean.  They should be fine though!"

Roman nods hopefully, hazarding another glance at Virgil, who raises his eyebrows.

"Sure, buddy."  Virgil's doubt is obvious, but it does nothing to curb Patton's cheery demeanor.

"Well, you kids have fun.  And good luck with those cookies!"  Without another word, he bounds out of the kitchen.

Roman waits until he hears Patton running up the stairs to approach Virgil again.  He still has his arms crossed, though Roman isn't sure if it's defensive or comforting — Virgil has been known to use the gesture as both.  Roman gives a small smile, though Virgil is hesitant to return it.

He asks first about the thing he's most worried about.  "Are you alright?"

Virgil nods, almost tiredly, and sighs.  "Yeah.  Yeah, I'm just not really comfortable broadcasting my feelings to the world.  Or to Patton."  His gaze focuses on some invisible point to Roman's left.  Roman tries and fails to catch his eye, but deems it unimportant.  He grabs Virgil's hand.

"That's okay.  If this is how you're most comfortable, we'll keep it a secret.  Besides, that could be fun!  Just imagine, it's like a movie.  We're forbidden lovers, from opposing families with a decades old rivalry.  Gay Romeo and Juliet."

Virgil grins again.  "So, we're both going to die is what you're saying?"

Spurred on by Virgil's hand tightening in his own, Roman pulls him into a hug.  "You know what I meant," he says into Virgil's hair.  He gets a short laugh in response.

"Yeah, I suppose."  Roman can feel Virgil's breath as he speaks, warm and soft against his shoulder.  Roman cups his cheek, kisses him gently.  He gets only a second to admire Virgil's eyes and his light dusting of freckles before he presses his face into the crook of Roman's neck.

"Thank you," he says.  

"For what?"

"For being you, you big dummy.  And for not being an ass.  I'm sure it took some effort."  Roman can feel Virgil smiling against his skin.

"Of course, my darling."  Roman's response is whispered, so quiet Virgil can barely hear, but his hands grip the back of Roman's shirt, and Roman knows he understood.  They don't move for a while, each trying to drink in the other's presence and store it away for future reminiscing.  

The oven beeps loudly and insistently, and Virgil again jumps away from Roman, this time searching for the elusive oven mitts.  As he looks, Roman opens the oven door to peer in at the cookies, which look nothing like they did when they were put in.  At last, Virgil returns with the mitts, shoving Roman out of the way so he can remove the cookies.  He stops to stare at them after he's placed the tray on the stovetop.

"Roman."

"Yes, dearest?"  Neither Virgil nor Roman takes their eyes off the cookies in front of them.

"What did we do?"

Roman, the braver of the two, attempts to lift one of the cookies from the pan, but it proves to be a challenge when he burns his hand.  There also is no clear separation between individual treats — the tray is a blackened mess of burnt dough and sizzling chocolate chips, all blending into each other.  

Virgil grabs a spatula.  He tries to slip it under the mass, but it stays firmly stuck to its pan.  He resorts to a knife as Roman holds back a laugh.  Finally, he chips off a piece, which he snaps in half.  He offers a part to Roman, who takes it, if reluctantly.  They bite into the cookie at the same time, maintaining eye contact, an unspoken challenge — who can eat more of their collaborative monstrosity.  Virgil wins when Roman spits the baked goods into the nearby trash can, mumbling about how he can't eat any more of this.

Virgil frowns as he chokes down the bite of charred cookie, and joins Roman at the garbage can to toss the rest of it.

"I think we should leave the baking to Logan," Virgil states.  "Specs probably enjoys the chemical reactions or whatever."

Roman laughs.  "Of everyone you'd expect to be good at this…"  

"We should probably clean this up, though."

Roman groans, and Virgil reaches up to press a small kiss to his cheek.  

"Maybe later?"  Virgil can feel Roman's lips brushing against his own as he speaks.

Virgil closes the gap between them.  "I suppose," he says against Roman's mouth.  He feels Roman smile.

@dissappropriation

[dothwrites]

christmas soft!boys

so dean is one of those guys. die hard is his favorite christmas movie. but like, he liked it as a christmas movie before it was the cool thing to do so fuck off hipsters and sitcoms and dudebros and every other person who wants to ironically like it as a christmas movie because for a very long time, one of dean’s favorite christmas traditions was curling up on the couch to watch die hard on tbs and listening to bruce willis say “yippie ki yay mothertrucker” while his mother cast long suffering glances at his father. 

(dean still won’t take off his shoes in an unfamiliar location because hahaha, no thank you, he’s seen how that one goes)

and by now he’s roped cas into his tradition (unwillingly, cas is a goddamn snob about the weirdest things and die hard is one of them) and when cas comes home one night dean already has the blu-ray in, menu playing, and a freshly made vat of popcorn sitting on the coffee table (stovetop, none of that bagged shit for tonight). 

“die hard?” cas asks, flicking his eyes over the scene and dean can tell that he’s exasperated but like, he’s also fond. it’s a very cas-like expression and one that dean not so secretly adores. 

“die hard,” dean answers, leaning in to peck cas on the lips. “get ready,” he orders, sending cas off to the bedroom with a swat on the ass. 

a few moments later cas returns, dressed in one of dean’s faded led zeppelin shirts, the one with the holes in the collar and armpit, and a pair of sweats that hang dangerously low on his hips. and cas looks hot, cas looks downright fuckable, and no doubt on another day dean can and will take advantage of that situation, but today he has more important matters to consider.  

namely, lifting his legs and arms so that cas can slide in underneath them. that way dean can snuggle in close, burrow his nose in cas’ (his) shirt. he knows the movie so well by now that he can quote it, so he watches with half an eye open, almost more interested in the way that the tips of cas’ fingers trail over the back of his neck than he is in the movie. 

their fingers tangle when they reach for the popcorn, buttery and salty, and cas rolls his eyes when dean mouths the line now i have a machine gun ho ho ho. 

the christmas tree provides the only light in the room, dozens of muticolored lights twinkling in the darkened room. with his legs slung up over cas’ legs, his head pillowed on cas’ shoulder, fingers stroking against cas’, dean dozes. 

merry christmas, cas murmurs into his hair at the closing of the movie. 

and god bless us every one, dean thinks, just before he falls asleep. 

---

tags under the cut, message/reply/ask to be added or removed~~

@screamatthescreen @queenvee08 @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @dizzypinwheel @homeriics @stay-inside-the-salt-ring @deansbff @spaceshipkat @rogerslouis 

[silkkpopbonnet]

7 Nights of Monsta X

This is a tentative run, please let me know what you think of this intro and what’s going on so far. I try to make them as different and believable as possible! 

“No woman is going to willingly have sex with you,” Wonho laughed drunkenly. “You’ve never even had sex before!” 

I.M. nervously moved around in his chair. “I have!” 

Kihyun chuckled from his position on a bean bag on the floor, half falling asleep with the empty soju bottle in his hand. “When? That’s what I want to know.”

I.M.’s cheeks flushed red as he nursed his own glass. His hyungs were drunk and teasing him that was all. Dropping his head a bit he mumbled, and looked around the room. “I don’t do everything with you guys! You don’t know!” 

“Leave him alone,” Shownu sat back on the couch, his wide, muscular shoulders taking up the little space between him and Wonho. “Changkyun is a baby.”

“A baby!” I.M. stood up angrily. “I’m 23 goddamn years old! How is that a baby! Fuck that! I’m a man!” 

Minhyuk rolled onto the floor. “Don’t upset the baby guys, daddy Shownu won’t like it.” 

“Let’s just settle this,” Hyungwon shifted on his feet. “I’m going to call a woman of the night.” 

Wonho patted his red cheeks. “An escort?”

“That’s what I said,” Teetering to one side, Hyungwon grabbed his laptop and sat down next to Kihyun and Jooheon who was currently sleeping. “Let’s see what the internet can do for us.” 

“Miracles.” Minhyuk shuffled closer, resting his chin on Kihyun’s shoulder as they watched Hyungwon. 

“Look at this website, you can look at escorts and order them-”

“Order?” Shownu sat up slowly. “That sounds rude, this isn’t like ordering food.” 

“We can eat her.” Minhyuk chuckled. 

“Eat who?” Jooheon woke up slowly, wiping the drool from his chin. “We ordering food?” 

“No,” Wonho positioned his fist under his chin. “Hyungwon is looking for an escort.”

Jooheon rubbed his eyes. “For who? Me? You’re too kind.” 

“If we play this right,” Hyungwon clicked through a few ads. “All of us. Why spend more money than what is needed?” 

“Shouldn’t she be for I.M.?” Kihyun and Minhyuk looked at each other before bursting into giggles. 

“Do it!” I.M. crossed his arms over his chest, sitting back in his chair. “I’ll show you, I know plenty, she’ll love me and I’ll ruin her for the rest of you.” 

The room was silent for awhile, the furious clicking and clacking of Hyungwon’s fingers across the keyboard, the only sound in the room. 

“Done,” Hyungwon announced, as he sat back and looked at the range of women’s profiles before them. “Now, what type of woman are we looking for?” 

“We aren’t actually doing this are we? Not tonight, come on guys.” Shownu ever the voice of reason tried to pipe up before things got out of control. 

“See if someone likes thigh riding, blindfolds and toys.” Wonho tapped his fingers together, as the rest of the guys looked at him with stunned expressions. “What? I like that.” 

Minhyuk tapped Hyungwon on the shoulder. “Can she be tall? Slim but a nice round ass, if she likes face fucking that’s a plus.” 

“Nasty bastards,” Kihyun shook his head. “All of you, I can’t believe I call you my members and these are the kinks you’re into.” 

Wonho shrugged, he didn’t care what anyone thought of him, that much was evident. 

“But since we’re taking note of these things.” Kihyun chuckled. “Dark hair and soft eyes, I also like choking and to be choked.” 

“My god,” Shownu covered his mouth as he laughed. “I knew you were going to say some freaky shit. I don’t care what she’s into, but pretty and sweet.” 

“Well?” Hyungwon looked at the remaining three. “Anything specific?” 

“Does it let you filter or something?” Jooheon pulled on the edge of the laptop to see better. “Not too pale, I don’t want to feel like I’m fucking a vampire. She has to have some color to her. Maybe a little voyeurism and role play?” 

“What about you Hyungwon-hyung?” I.M. kept his mouth shut as he looked at blonde haired singer. 

“I’ll keep my preferences quiet for now.” 

“What?” Jooheon and Kihyun exclaimed. “Come on you heard all of ours.” 

“Yes, well this is going on my credit card so I can do what I want.” Scanning through a few women, Hyungwon stopped on one that made him do a double take. “Her.” 

“Oh yea,” Normally quiet Shownu was on the floor now, staring at the woman on the computer screen. 

“Does she have more pictures?” Wonho was crowding the rest of the guys now. 

Flicking through a few pictures appreciative hums flowed through the group as they commented on the woman before their eyes. 

“I like her.” I.M. smiled. 

Shownu nodded. “She seems nice and sweet.” 

“I’m gonna find out.” Jooheon chuckled, earning a high five from Kihyun. 

A few keystrokes later, Hyungwon closed his laptop and picked up his phone. “When she texts me, I will add all of us to the group chat with her, fair? Until then, I’m going to bed, I’m drunk.”

“She’s not coming tonight?” Wonho stumbled up from the floor as well. 

“No, tomorrow night was the soonest she had, which gives us time to sober up and cancel just in case. I’m not gonna vomit on her.” 

With that he bid his goodnight and walked into his room closing the door gently behind him. 

“He better not cancel.” Jooheon fell to one side before getting up. “He’s right though, I can barely stand, goodnight.” 

As the rest of the members made their way to their rooms, Shownu stood in front of I.M. clasping his shoulder gently. 

“If they decide to go through with this, don’t feel pressured to do anything that you don’t want to.” He squatted in front of a still sitting I.M. “Hear me?”

“Yes, hyung,” I.M. squared his shoulders. “They just get to me sometimes you know.” 

“I know,” Standing up Shownu brought the maknae with him. “Don’t take it to heart.” 

“I won’t.” 

Nodding his head, Shownu disappeared into his shared room with Jooheon. 

Cleaning up the bottles, and cups around the room, I.M. bit his lip thinking about the woman that Hyungwon had messaged. He was going to embarrass himself, he knew it. He tried to look big in front of his hyungs but he was a virgin. Not that there was anything wrong with that! He was proud to have made it this long, of course he’d fingered a few girls and had his dick sucked, but nothing as far as actually having sex. Sighing, he resigned himself to another night of jerking off before heading to bed. Maybe that would relieve some stress. 

Alexis Andrews was bored, and for her that was a sin on a Friday night. The nightlife of Seoul was steadily calling her, but something about bouncing from club to club just wasn’t doing it for her right now. Sure, her friends had called and texted and facetimed her, but the buttery bowl of popcorn in front of her was more appealing. That and this Chinese drama she just started was getting interesting. The Emperor’s wife was passing her infant son as his, but he was the child of his best General. Shit was about to get real. Pushing more of the buttery treat into her mouth, Alexis rolled her eyes as her phone chimed again. What did they want now? The notification from the website, startled her. Since moving to Seoul, she had some good traffic and plenty of dates with rich men seeking to get that “foreign” kick out of their system. She even had a regular, he was the one who put her into this fancy high-rise apartment. She was damn near his mistress if she was going to play her cards right.  Either way, she smiled at the picture of a young man with blonde hair and thick lips. He was cute, more than that, he was downright fine. Opening the application, she browsed through what he was looking for and wanted. 

He was a picky one, wanted a lot too and she was curious as to what level of pervert he was when she saw his last message that he needed someone who was ok with being with six other men. 

“Fuck that,” Alexis was about to delete it when she saw the rest of their faces. They looked familiar but she didn’t care enough to see why. They were all incredibly attractive. “K-pop boys?” She wondered out loud to herself, as she flicked back and forth through the three pics he had sent. One of all seven of them. Then split into groups of 3, with the one who applied having sent one pic of himself. 

“Hyungwon.” She said and smiled. His lips were definitely his best feature. 

Reading the application again, Alexis was trying to decide what to do. “She didn’t do group sex. No trains were going to be ran on her, she was an escort not a $20 prostitute. Instantly, she chided herself, sex work was sex work. No need to shame someone else, but she did have limits and this was one of them. 

He had left his number, which was the mark of a serious man and his billing information was in the system for easier access. Ok, so he wasn’t some tool and had an idea of how this worked. 

Sighing, she pressed his number and looked at the time. Maybe he was still awake. 

“Hello?” Who Alexis assumed was Hyungwon answered sleepily. 

“Hi, this is Alexis, you messaged me.” 

When it remained quiet, she clarified. “The escort.” 

“Yes,” Hyungwon answered excitedly. “Hold please?” 

His English was good but she could tell he might have a hard time understanding her. Her Korean was still baby-ish but enough that she could hold a conversation as long as someone didn’t speak fast. Either way, she listened to the shuffling, doors opening and closing as Hyungwon began to speak to someone else. 

“Hello? This is I.M.” 

“Yea,” She smiled at this voice and wondered who he was in the picture. “This is Alexis, Hyungwon messaged me, the escort.” 

“Hello, he’s making sure we don’t mess up. I’m sorry about that.” She could tell he was smiling. 

“No, it’s fine, my Korean is patchy, but I do well enough. So, I wanted to tell you guys I don’t do group things. I’m interested but not with all seven of you at the same time.” 

She waited while I.M. explained this to Hyungwon. 

“I’m sorry, he didn’t mean to make it seem that way. It’s one on one,” I.M. got quiet. “Some may want a threesome, two and you. He isn’t sure.” 

“That’s fine,” Alexis chuckled. “I can handle that, I’ll let you guys get back to sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Yes,” I.M. and Hyungwon answered at the same time. “Goodnight, Alexis.” 

“Goodnight, fellas.” 

Hanging up, Alexis stretched as she got up from the couch. “Seven guys, Hyungwon and I.M.” She was instantly attracted to I.M.’s voice, the rich sound of it and the way he pronounced his words. Hyungwon had a good voice as well but it was his picture the way he stared at the camera that made her womb lurch inside of her. 

Tomorrow was going to be an interesting day for sure. 

Pre-Game

[lovevalley45]

#fictober19 day 11

“It’s not always like this.”

legends of tomorrow, 538 words (inspired by this post)

“What is this?” Behrad asked, holding up a pamphlet. 

Let’s step back a bit. Two weeks ago, he was living it up on the Waverider away from 2042. It’s not like he doesn’t love his family, but- well, when your sister’s a famous vlogger it’s nice to have a bit of a break.

That break was interrupted when Nate, for some fucking reason, invited both her and her dragon onto the ship. 

There’d been chaos, more from their arguing over the totem than the fact that there was an actual fucking dragon prowling the halls and pissing on his medical textbooks. 

Now, someone had left a fucking pamphlet stuck to his door that fell off when he stepped out into the hall. The front had drawings of the six totems of Zambesi with a bright banner stating So You Have To Share A Mystical Totem With Your Sibling.

His first and really only suspect is Ray. To be fair, he has been the one who’s been the most pushy about him and Zari resolving their differences and shit.

When he noticed what Behrad was holding up, he nearly choked on his buttery coffee. “I- Who would leave that?”

Next to him, Sara crossed her arms. “Ray, what did you do?”

“Well, I-”

Before he can explain himself, Behrad heard the ominous stomping of high heels from the hallway. If he thought Ray looked scared before, then the dude must have been downright terrified. 

“Ray, you tall ass bastard-” Zari held up a similar pamphlet, before turning to her brother. “He gave you one too?”

“IcalledtheJiwesisters.”

Behrad’s eyes widened. “You called the Vixens?”

Ray stammered, feeling the wrath of both of the Tarazi siblings, something that’s not ideal even when one is trying to enjoy their breakfast. “It wasn’t my idea!”

“Then who’s was it?” Behrad asked. 

Nate walked in, humming to himself until he saw the pamphlets. “You know what, I think I hear- someone’s calling for me-” With that, he tried to make a make a hasty escape.

“Nathaniel Heywood, come back in here right now,” Sara said, looking exceptionally tired. Although she was only in her thirties, he thought he’d seen a gray hair spring up from the stress she’s had to endure in the past few weeks. 

He moonwalked back in, smiling meekly. “I thought if they had it all figured out, they could help these two get their act together.”

Zari looked insulted, crossing her arms. “First of all-”

“All of you, shut up for fucking once,” Sara shouted, standing up. “Ray, when are Kuasa and Mari supposed to arrive?”

Behind him, Behrad heard someone clear their throat. He turned around to see the two sisters, pulling stern faces. “You called?” Kuasa asked. 

Sara pushed him and Zari aside, putting on a fake smile. “Thank you for coming. It’s not always like this,” she said. “How are you? I haven’t seen you since… Mallus.” 

He facepalmed, groaning. “Oh, God.”

Kuasa looked between the siblings, before saying, “Oh, this is too good.”

Mari turned to her sister, looking confused at her delight. “What?”

“It’s a… time travel thing,” she replied, trying to bite back her laughter. “Nana Baa is going to laugh her ass off.”

[tastes-like-ciel]

Takeru + cooking

I feel like, for Takeru, there’s three possibilities I can get behind.

1. He’s a disaster in the kitchen.

2. He’s got a natural talent for cooking and it surprises people.

3. A combination of both of those.

1. Cooking disaster

Takeru has a history of being seen as a delinquent (and in ways actually did turn out to be one). He didn’t go to school, spent most of his time wandering around the world bitter and angry (because of both the trauma of being kidnapped and tortured and losing his parents because of it), he’s been shown to have beaten up other delinquents using the martial arts he learned from his grandfather, and.generally didn’t spend a lot of time in one place. Plus, he walked around without the glasses he wears now and spent all his time “glaring” when in reality he actually just couldn’t see shit. haha

Takeru has a lot of restless energy and cooking requires a sense of calm precision that Takeru wouldn’t have had at that time. Even now as a student in Den City, he spends most of his time with Yusaku and Kusanagi. I can easily see Takeru as the type who burns cup noodles in the microwave and he’d probably burn the hot dogs as well.

2. Secret cooking genius

A fun thought is that while Takeru never actually spends any time in the kitchen or at a grill, he’s the type who just naturally cooks well. He doesn’t measure anything, he doesn’t follow recipes. He’s just one of those types who take to a kitchen with surprising ease and everyone is shook by it because they don’t expect it at all. Takeru wouldn’t brag about it, though, and neither would he even be aware of his talent. It’s just a thing he can do, it’s a thing he doesn’t even really think about, and when people point out that his secret skill is amazing, he just laughs it off like “Am I?”

3. The One-Hit Wonder

An even more fun thought and the one I like most because it amuses me is that Takeru is just one big disaster in the kitchen overall, but there’s a couple of things he’s actually good at. He burns cup noodles in the microwave, he chars hot dogs all to hell, he can’t figure out the right measurement for any spices because he’s too high-energy and can’t stay still long enough to measure, but he’s really, really competent and incredible at, say, baking or some other little niche thing he normally wouldn’t have a reason to do. You know, just something so incredibly rare that no one expects him to be any good at it, but when he presents it to someone, holy shit it’s actually good. 

Have a mini Firestorm fic to summarize my general feelings of this last option.

Yusaku is wary–downright frightened–as he eyes the seemingly innocent batch of cookies sitting all nice and pretty at the bottom of the gift box. They look normal, smell normal, and are even moulded into a cute, square checkerboard pattern of golden brown and macha green, but the moment Takeru proudly states that he actually baked these and didn’t just grab them from some bakery immediately sets him on edge. He picks up one tiny cookie between two fingers–like it’s disease-ridden and might suddenly jump out and bite him–and turns it over to inspect it thoroughly, brow pinched in concentration.

He cares very deeply for Takeru. He really, really does, but his idiot of a boyfriend can’t cook to save his life.

Still, seeing the silly grin stretched across Takeru’s face and hearing just how excited he was for Yusaku to try his cookies, Yusaku caves out of guilt and hesitantly sets the cookie into his mouth to take a bite.

His eyes widen at the burst of flavour inside. The cookie is light and buttery with a nice mix of macha flavouring. It’s not overly sweet and is just the right kind of soft that Yusaku likes. It’s the perfect cookie.

“So?” Takeru asks, excitement still apparent as he tries to contain his eagerness. “What do you think?”

Yusaku’s eyes slowly look up to lock with Takeru’s and he slowly slips the rest of the cookie into his mouth, taking the time to chew and swallow it before staring back down at the box of cookies in disbelief. 

“How is it you’re so bad at cooking you burn cup noodles, but can make really good cookies?”

“Hunh?!”

Yusaku grabs another cookie and munches on it while he pointedly ignores Takeru’s protests about his cooking skills.

[ginger-and-mint]

A Little Extra

This Elijah-and-Micah fanfic is a birthday gift for my dear friend @tiny-tum, aka the sweetest pea ever to walk the earth. She and her adorable beans have been filling my life with brightness and fluff ever since they came into it. Her stories have my whole heart, and she is one of the kindest, most giving, and most determined souls I have ever had the pleasure to meet.

Please send her a nice warm wish and go read her work if you haven’t already.

And happy birthday, sweet pea. <3

Cardiac muscle cells are also involuntary, mononucleate, and joined by gap junctions as well as specialized desmosomes for heavy forces called intercalated discs….

Elijah’s eyelids fluttered as he realized he was reading the same sentence for the third time in a row. He raised a hand and scrubbed it over his face, wishing he could wipe away the fog of fatigue that was clinging heavily to his thoughts.

He had gotten back late from a smuggling operation the previous night, and had barely had time for a three-hour nap before he’d had to get up for his physiology class. He might’ve considered skipping the lecture and simply depending on his textbook to learn the material, but the exam coming up that Friday meant he could not afford to let his focus slip. It was getting to the point in the semester where there seemed to be a major assignment every week. There just wasn’t enough time, and what little time he had seemed to slip through his fingers like water.

Elijah stifled a yawn, and then frowned as he felt a pinching sensation began to build in his pit of his stomach. He let out a slow breath and tightened his abdominal muscles, hoping he could strangle the sensation away. The motion worked, sort of—what could’ve been an embarrassingly loud growl echoing through the silence of the library was reduced to a quiet, pitiful gurgling.

Another consequence of poor time management. He’d intended to break for lunch an hour ago, but some part of him had been too unsatisfied with the amount of reading he’d done to allow himself that luxury. He’d put off the break for another fifteen minutes, and then another fifteen, and then another. Now it was only five minutes until Micah was coming to join him for a study session.

No sooner had his best friend’s name crossed his mind than Elijah’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He withdrew it, mildly concerned. He had not expected a text. Micah should know to find him at their usual table.

((Meet me on the couches by the entrance?))

Elijah’s heart sped up a little. He wrote back: ((Is everything alright?))

((Yes!)) Micah texted back almost immediately, possibly realizing that he’d startled his friend. A second message came moments later: ((Just come out here. Please?))

Elijah was too tired to investigate further. Wearily, he gathered up his notes, slipped his books into his bag, and went to go find his friend.

Micah was sitting on one of the long couches in the atrium outside the library. He waved when he saw Elijah approaching and patted the empty space next to him invitingly. “Hey El. Goddesses, you look like shit.”

Elijah felt his heart sink as he settled heavily onto the couch. “My apologies. I did not have much time this morning, but I did make an effort to be presentable….”

“No no no, I only mean you look exhausted, you goof.” Micah pressed himself against Elijah’s shoulder in a sort of brief, reassuring cuddle before leaning down to take something out of his backpack. “And no wonder, with how hard you’ve been working lately. So I brought you lunch.”

Elijah blinked in surprised as Micah pulled the lid off a big plastic container filled with rice, steamed vegetables, and a pair of salmon filets, all in a delicate buttery sauce.

“Micah, where did you—mmm.” A little involuntary sound of appreciation escaped Elijah’s lips as the smell of fish washed over him. The knot of hunger in his stomach throbbed, filling his mouth with water, and he had to swallow hard against it to continue his question. “…Where did you get this?”

“I, uh….” Micah grinned a little sheepishly. “I kinda snuck it out of the dining hall. Me and Sasha and Cole met there for lunch, and it looked like something you’d really like, and I had an empty container in backpack….”

“Micah,” said Elijah severely, a little shocked. It was one thing to slip an apple into your pocket on your way out of the dining hall, but the amount of food Micah had taken was equivalent to a whole extra meal. “If you had been caught—”

Micah held up his hands. “Nobody was gonna care! They were about to close for lunch and change over to dinner. It probably would’ve gone to waste if I hadn’t taken it. And I’m sure you haven’t been feeding yourself right, fuckface.” Micah pushed the container and a plastic fork insistently into Elijah’s hands. “So shut up and eat.”

Elijah might’ve said more, but then his stomach growled so loudly that he suspected the group of students passing by a few yards away had heard. He felt his cheeks grow hot and obediently dug the fork into the food.

“Thank you. Geez.” Micah wrapped an arm as far around his friend as he could reach, grinning as Elijah took a big bite. “Is it good?”

“Very,” Elijah admitted. The fish was soft and flaky, its saltiness a perfect compliment to the tangy sauce. The vegetables had been steamed to perfection, delicately crisp and full of flavor. The school’s dining halls were undeniably good at what they did.

The more Elijah ate, the less unsure he felt. Every bite he took not only eased the pinched feeling in his belly, but also relaxed the the pockets of nervous energy that had build up inside him. He could feel them vanishing under the slowly-increasing weight of his stomach, squeezed away into nothing by the nourishing food.

“You’ve been running yourself so ragged lately, El.” Micah rubbed one hand over Elijah’s broad back. He laughed a little at the way Elijah twitched and shivered at his touch.

Elijah swallowed a mouthful of fish and cleared his throat. “Unfortunately I do not have much choice at the moment. I know you would like me to take better care of myself, Micah, but my obligations at the moment are incredibly pressing….”

“I know.” Micah traced a gentle pattern around Elijah’s shoulder blades. “I know you’re busy as fuck, dude. So I’m just gonna take care of you a little extra until you get a moment to breathe.”

The affection in his voice made Elijah’s throat feel strangely tight. “I appreciate your kindness,” he managed, and then filled his mouth with another forkful of vegetables and rice.

The food was almost gone now. Soon Elijah was scraping the bottom of the container, scooping up the final grains of rice, before setting it aside with a contented sigh.

“Knew you’d be hungry,” Micah said softly. He glanced around to make sure there was no one to give them weird looks before reaching under Elijah’s coat to rest a hand over his newly-full belly.

Elijah groaned softly. His friend’s hand felt so good that he couldn’t help relaxing back into his seat. He raised a hand to stifle a soft burp as Micah’s fingers worked circles into the warm food inside him, and then kept the hand up to cover the yawn that rose to his lips.

“Aww.” Micah poked his side teasingly. “You always get so sleepy when your tummy’s full.”

Elijah sighed deeply, feeling a prickle of frustration. “I should have waited to eat. Now my focus will be impaired.”

“You should not have waited to eat, El.” Micah’s fingers patted gently over Elijah’s belly. “You can’t run on nothing forever. Hasn’t our damn physiology class taught you that?” He paused a moment before continuing, “You know what I think? I think you should take a thirty-minute power nap. The library’ll still be here when you wake up. You got a head-start on me with the reading anyway, so I can sit here and catch up.”

“Sleep?” The idea seemed downright absurd to Elijah. “Sleep here?”

“You think you’d be the first person to nap on this couch? In a university library?” Micah laughed. Then he seemed the catch the meaning behind Elijah’s trepidation and grew more serious. “It’s the library, El, nobody can get in without a student card. It’ll be safe. And I’ll be right here. I won’t let anyone sneak up on us, I promise.”

Elijah took a deep breath, intending to protest. But the rounding of his belly with his breath brought the weight of the warm food inside him and the sensation of Micah’s hand into sharp focus, and he felt suddenly and inexplicably calm. His words came out as a resigned sigh instead. “You… are a bad influence.”

“If by ‘bad influence,’ you mean the only fucking thing keeping you from working yourself to death most days—then yeah, I’m a bad influence.” Micah’s voice was cross, but the way he caught Elijah’s hand and rubbed a thumb over the back of it said everything.

Carefully, Elijah stretched himself out over the length of the couch, obliging lying his head in Micah’s lap when his friend patted his knees invitingly. “I am not entirely sure I will be able to fall asleep here,” he confessed, even as his mind swam with exhaustion.

“Yeah, well, just resting your big stupid head will be good for you, I’m sure.” Micah stroked a hand over Elijah’s hair, carefully tucking a stray lock behind his ear.

Elijah made a soft sound of contentment. He opened his mouth to thank his friend—for the touch, for the food, for the care—but what slipped out instead was just a sleepy whisper: “Love you, Micah.”

“Love you too, you stupid bastard.” Micah wrapped a hand over Elijah’s shoulders and held him close. “I love you too.”

[sugarplum-senpai]

4, 5, and 12 for Ereri :)

Thank you so much for your prompts, dear! 

4: “I can never tell if you’re hitting on me or not.”5: Cleaning12: Panicked/Accidental Confession

After writing 11k words of post-war angst, I thought some light crack would be more than appropriate for this. ;) I hope you like it and have as much fun with reading it as I had with writing!

Word Count: 2,1kRated F for Floof (and CCC for Cute Canonverse Crack)

(Read on AO3.)

Mischief, Mayhem, Soap, and Porridge

Eren despised the summer flu. And he absolutely positively hated this day.

Usually he loved cleaning days. They were fun. Today, however, was awful.

Looking back at it so far, Eren thought he should have gotten right back to sleep before he’d even left the bed. But he had left it and now he had to face the music. 

Which seemed to include having to witness Sasha sneaking up on Jean to carefully slip a wet bar of soap into the collar of his shirt, only to instantly flee into one of the shower cubicles.

“Arg!” Jean exclaimed, his hands shooting up his neck and his whole body jerking, his voice echoing through the bathroom and mingling with Sasha’s mischievous cackle. “What is this shit? Fuck!”

“Cleaning day, Jean!” Sasha jeered.

His face was red, but sadly not as much in agony as Eren would have hoped for. Jean had done his best to avoid cleaning anything all morning long and Eren didn’t have any hope that this would change any time soon.

Diligently scrubbing away at a sink that suffered under a nasty case of scale, he frowned. At least Jean’s back would be greasy and gross with sticky soap all afternoon long.

“You know, Sasha,” Jean teased in-between his ongoing efforts. “I can never tell if you’re hitting on me or not. Feels a bit like it now.”

Yeah, Eren huffed to himself with a scowl. It feels icky. Jean, ugh! The mere thought…

He suppressed a shudder.

“I’m not!” Sasha affirmed, still giggling. “Go to someone else for the flirting, Jean!”

“Don’t,” Mikasa said flatly, face completely blank.

Jean, who—much to Eren’s regret—had already managed to get hold the soap without even letting it slip through his fingers, smirked and now threw the bar at Mikasa. “Are you sure?”

She skilfully caught the bar with the half-filled bucket in her hands and Jean looked more than disappointed. “I’ll take over another room,” she said. “Don’t follow me.”

And gone she was.

“Stop trying so hard, man,” Connie said to Jean.

“Yeah, keep on cleaning the bathroom,” Eren agreed, tending to another spot of scale on the sink.

Sometimes he dreamed that he could pull off a scowl like Levi and make them work with just one single look. But no matter how much Eren tried, apparently he wasn’t intimidating enough. He sighed.

Oh, how he wished Levi was here! It would brighten Eren’s awful day immensely.

But Levi wasn’t here. And Eren gave a small, sympathetic frown at the thought.

Levi was sick. The summer flu, had Hanji announced this morning, and ever since no one had seen him. Eren had snuck up to the door of Levi’s quarters a couple of times and heard the nasty cough, the gut-wrenching sniffles, and had been thinking all day long about what could make it better.

Certainly not a filthy bathroom.

Cleaning HQ had already been on today’s schedule, but solely with the help of the other guys, with no Levi nearby to order them around, Eren wouldn’t come far. On the contrary. He’d have to do their work all over again to make it right. As soon as he was finished with this faucet, of course. At least the bathroom should be shipshape when they were done for the day. And the kitchen too.

Eren stilled at the sudden thought, close to cursing.

Shit, the kitchen! Hadn’t someone burnt the porridge this morning?

Ignoring the ongoing bickering between Sasha and Jean next to him, Eren considered his options: He could either finish the job here—and endure Jean’s presence—or he could scrape off dried crusts of porridge and whatnot that were caked to the cooker.

The cooker won.

“Oi, where do you think you’re going, Eren?” Jean sneered promptly.

“Kitchen,” Eren said.

Connie blushed.

And Jean paled. “Oh, fuck. Yeah! Thanks, man! I wouldn’t go in there today if they’d beat me to it.”

Eren rolled his eyes and went.

A few minutes later he stood in the doorway of the kitchen, staring at a battlefield.

Whoever was responsible for this—probably Connie, Eren mused, only Connie could leave behind such a chaos and he and Sasha had been overly frisky all day—had done a great job of leaving behind as much destruction as humanly possible.

The pot hadn’t been scrubbed, the plates, cups, bowls, and cutlery hadn’t been washed. The counter was crowded with dirty dishes.

And the cooker…well. For the first time ever Eren actually agreed with Jean on something one hundred percent. It was bad. Really, really bad.

For the first time that day, Eren was glad that Levi was safely upstairs in his room, far away from what had occurred in here. Because one thing was certain:

Levi mustn’t see this.

Suddenly heavily motivated Eren stepped into the room, gathered his determination, and went to work. He started with soaking whatever dishes the sink could take, putting it all into the big, porridge-incrusted pot before filling it up with water. Then he took a deep breath and fetched a spatula. 

It soon was clear that burnt lactose and gluten was the most evil combination ever. Cleaning the cooker alone took the good part of the whole afternoon. And as he’d scraped and scraped and scraped at a particularly nasty spot, Eren began to wonder what kind of horrible person had determined that porridge should contain milk and oat.

Eren vividly hated that arsehole!

He scraped again, slipped, and banged his head against the cooker. Fuck.

After that he sat down on the floor, and nastily scowled once more at his surroundings.

He truly missed Levi. 

Without him being ill this situation probably wouldn’t even have escalated like it had and Connie would be sitting here on the floor now, pressing his hand against a bump on his forehead.

At least I heal quickly, Eren grimaced.

Despite his well-trained muscles his whole body was sticky with sweat and aching from the effort. It didn’t particularly help that it was a hot day and that it had rained that morning, leaving the air humid and awfully muggy. 

Eyeing the cooker, Eren thought the worst part lay behind him by now, though. All it would take now was a bit scrubbing and some more rough scraping at that one nasty corner. And the dishes.

If breakfast would have had tasted well at least, this whole thing probably wouldn’t have been all too bad either, Eren mused. But it had tasted downright disgusting, even for his rigorously humble soldier standards, and remembering the burnt taste on his tongue as if he was eating it again, Eren suddenly felt double betrayed. He should give Connie hell for this one day.

But then he thought of Levi again, laying in his bed and coughing, and Eren suddenly realised that Levi must have gotten a portion of this gross stuff as well.

No way that he could easily recover like this.

Scrambling up to his feet again, Eren went to check the pantry. There were still a few eggs, some bread and way, way down in its depths Eren even found a small package of ham. Yes!

Freshly motivated like this he set back to work, starting with the dishes.

At least the porridge came off the bowls and plates and cutlery relatively easily after all this soaking. He scrubbed and scrubbed and couldn’t help a confident smile when he’d stored the little stuff back into their rightful places in the cupboard.

After giving the pot another round of soaking he took the scraper back into his hands, refaced his nemesis of a cooker, and couldn’t help but feel an odd sensation of satisfaction when only half an hour of additional scraping later—seriously, Connie!—and another fifteen minutes of scrubbing Eren was finally, finally done, the cooker close to sparkling again, ready for use. And the kitchen itself as well.

Eren beamed. Time to cook Levi some food.

Lost in dazzling daydreams about earning Levi’s gratefulness and having him fully recover and back among them soon, Eren made some tea, then heated a pan, greased it with first melting the fat of the ham in it, and—bless his mother who had taught him how to fry eggs when he’d been only five years old—cracked in two eggs, that instantly began to sizzle and spread a wonderful, buttery scent. 

Eggs must be healthy, Eren thought, marvelling at the solidifying, clear whites and the sunny-yellow yolks. After a short consideration, he added a third one to the pan. 

“Levi will love me for this,” he mumbled to himself, turning away from the pan to cut the bread into slices so Levi could load it with ham or eggs as he liked. “Well,” he added. “Hopefully.”

“What.”

Eren froze, the knife halfway through the last piece of bread, his neck prickling in alert, every single one of his senses up in arms.

A pitiful sniff came from the doorway.

Eren turned around, and every single thought fell out of his head in blank panic as he recognized the intruder.

Levi stood in the entrance of the kitchen, his skin looking awfully pale and waxen, eyes red-rimmed and his nose bright red as well, probably sore from blowing it excessively, going by the handkerchief in his lifted hand.

I want to hug him! shot through Eren’s head, completely unhelpful.

“What did you say?” Levi rasped. “My ears are plugged.”

His nose sounded ‘plugged’ too.

“Um…I…” Eren blushed. And before he could stop himself, it all spilled out. “I wanted to make you a second breakfast, Sir, or lunch…dinner! I wanted to make you dinner, since the porridge this morning was so terrible, you see? So I thought you might be hungry and decided to cook and maybe make you smile, because I love yo–” he redirected his speech at the last second, “–your smile. 

“Haha!”

Well. He was fucked.

Levi stared at him, his eyes glassy and blinking just a bit too often.

Eren wanted to die.

And just as he thought he couldn’t keep up with this staring contest any longer without scorching to ashes right on this spot, Levi sneezed. And Eren dared to breathe again.

After blowing his nose and giving another heart-rending sniff, Levi stepped over to the hearth. His legs were a bit wobbly, Eren noticed, even though the scowl on Levi’s brow said otherwise.

“Is this for me?” he asked, gesturing at the eggs still sizzling in the pan. They looked done now.

Still utterly flustered, but apparently saved from the immediate danger of imploding any moment now, Eren nodded. “Um…yes. Yeah. The bread and tea too.” He pointed at the counter.

“Who goofed up breakfast? It was an experience.”

“Connie, Sir,” Eren stammered, slowly composing himself again. “I guess.”

“Thought so. Kitchen a mess?”

“Yes.”

“Mm.”

Lifting the pan Levi transferred its contents onto the plate Eren had already prepared, turned around to add the bread to the eggs and take the tea pot as well, but instead of just leaving the kitchen with his dinner, he looked up with his slightly unfocused, swollen eyes, stepped closer into Eren’s private space, and—to Eren’s utter shock and delight—gave him a warm, scratchy peck on his cheek.

“Thank you.”

Completely awestruck and blushing fiercely all the way up to his hair roots in an instant, Eren stood there, rooted to the floor, and could only stare and gape as Levi wobbled-definitely-not-wobbled out of the kitchen, while his hand slowly reached up to press against the spot where, just a moment ago, Levi’s lips had been. 

God, Levi had smelled absolutely breathtaking.

What a beautiful day!

He should give Connie a hug. 

Eren still stood there, elated beyond hope, when Mikasa found him five minutes later.

“What happened to you,” she asked, frowning at his expression. 

“What? Nothing, wha–what happened to you?” he managed, barely noticing through his love-crazed haze that she was soaking wet.

And…actually seething?

“I am going to murder Jean. You in?”

“What?” Eren mumbled. “Oh no, I guess he’s alright. I’ve got to go now.” He snuck past Mikasa. “Mop that floor, yeah? You’re dripping.”

“What.”

Completely immune to her wrath, Eren left her, already wondering about if Levi would kiss him again one day.

The sun set over HQ in stunningly glowing colours that night. And when it rose again on the next morning Eren awoke to a sneeze, alongside a murderous headache between his eyes.

And a besotted grin.

He still grinned when the sniffles set in around breakfast time, and he still grinned when the coughs began to shake him at noon. What was this flu? He was a Titan. She shouldn’t get sick!

Totally worth it, though, he thought.

He still thought so, when a knock came on his door and Levi stood there, looking much too healthy and wonderful again and offering Eren a plate with eggs and ham with a little smirk, that made Eren grin even wider.

Stepping aside he let Levi in. 

Eren really loved the summer flu.

[flauntpage]

Kristaps Porzingis and the End of Hope

I literally screamed. A meaningless mid-February tilt between the New York Knicks and the Milwaukee Bucks became something unimaginable, an end. Or at least a seeming end to the rarest of Knicksian states of being: hope.

After putting a mini-poster dunk on Giannis Antetokounmpo—who spent the bulk of the night doing incredible and downright rude things to various Knicks—Kristaps Porzingis drove to the rim, only to land awkwardly on Antetokounmpo’s foot, his left ankle buckling for a moment. Then the entirety of his 7-3 frame went tumbling to the ground. He clutched his left knee and writhed in pain.

For a moment, I couldn’t really process what had happened. It all seemed so unreal, like a still out of an awful fever dream. And then I heard myself shouting at the television. The remaining two and half quarters were one long, dull ache, until the word was given and the absolute worst possible results of an MRI were relayed: Porzingis had torn his anterior cruciate ligament and was done for the year. Probably longer.

What makes this all so crushing is that the Knicks had actually uncovered a potential franchise-defining star for the first time since Patrick Ewing was lofting a buttery-smooth baseline jumper and patrolling the paint with his trademark perma-scowl. The vast bulk of the 21st century has been decidedly hope- and promise free. For close to two decades, the Knicks have been defined by a downright lousy product on the court and a front office that fetishized faded, overpaid and defense-free scorers and/or archaic offensive systems.

Porzingis felt like the antidote to all that, to all the alternatively infuriating and sad black comedy provided by both the team itself and mock turtleneck aficionado, James Dolan. This is the contract fandom demands: Enough suffering, and you’ll eventually be rewarded with something worth wasting so much emotional currency. it feels like that’s all been taken away too, or that the contract Knicks fans signed was all some kind of cruel joke.

It’s still far too early to begin speculating about how and if Porzingis might recover, but history provides little comfort. At FanSided, Jared Dubin pointed out that Porzingis has been racking up quite a few injuries to the left side of his body, all of which could be indicative of a larger issue, Tuesday’s freak tumble notwithstanding. And Kevin Pelton has provided a nice—i.e. harrowing—look at previous ACL tears at ESPN. Even if Zach LaVine has been looking mighty spry of late, the data shows that the vast bulk of players take a dip post-surgery, and its effects tend to tamp down performance in the years to follow.

So what now? Aside from the hilarity of Michael Beasley jacking up 15 to 20 shots a game, there’s very little reason to watch the rest of the way. Regardless of whether or not the team is able to pawn off any vets prior to Thursday’s trade deadline—like Courtney Lee, Kyle O’Quinn, and their currently AWOL salary cap millstone, Joakim Noah—they’re going to be really, really, bad, and that’s saying something for a team that’s won six of the last 24.

With Porzingis, the Knicks scored 105.5 points per 100 possessions and gave up 105.4. Once he sauntered over to the bench, their scoring dipped to 102, and they allowed 106.9. Now that they’re running out a lineup comparable to this year’s Atlanta Hawks, maybe they’ll be able to snag a few extra ping pong balls in the final 27 games, even with the NBA’s clogged basement-dwellers and tankmasters all vying to do the same. If nothing else, it seems as if Porzingis’s injury will prod Hornacek into giving the scant few promising youngsters he has a little more floor time, but this is all very thin gruel.

It’s enough to make an ostensibly grown man act like a small, mewling child, in my case, one that loved Bernard King. When Porzingis went down, I couldn’t help but flash back to watching King trying to chase down Reggie Theus at the old Kemper Arena in Kansas City and hearing him scream, loud enough to be broadcast on-air, “Oh, shit. Oh god!” before he crumpled to the floor, writhing in agony and pounding his fist.

I want to live in hope, or as Hornacek told reporters on Wednesday, that Porzingis will be “back and stronger than ever,” flushing putback dunks, and doing things that should not be possible for a person his size. I can only imagine what Porzingis must be going through, given the long and lonely rehab slog he’s facing, and after seeing his best friend, Willy Hernangomez, dealt to Charlotte for a couple of future second round picks. The adult response would be to realize that whatever misery Knicks fans experience pales in comparison to his, and shunt my own complaints to the side. But right now I’m just numbly sad, like a selfish 12-year-old who couldn’t understand why the world had taken away Bernard.

Get better, Kristaps.

Kristaps Porzingis and the End of Hope published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

[laughinglistener]

Why Dream Thieves is the Drug High We've All Been Waiting For

Format: Audiobook Narrator: Will Patton *Applauds* Length: 12 hours & 46 minutes Genres: Fiction, Young-adult, Fantasy, Magic, Supernatural, Adventure Take a Peek:  Audible  |  Overdrive  |  Amazon  |  Barnes & Noble  |  Goodreads

Story Rating: 5 Stars Performance Rating: 5 Stars Overall Rating: 5 Stars ★★★★★

*Series spoilers ahead my friends*

This was my second foray into the Raven Cycle series and I'll admit, I was a tad apprehensive when I started. Instinctively, without really reading anything about it, I knew things were going to start getting crazy for our Raven Boys and I was not wrong. It's reassuring to know my instincts are still very much in tact. In the first novel, we get a taste of the magic they're dealing with and in this one it's GAME ON. About 60% of the novel feels like you're on a bad high from one of Kavinsky's pills, but somehow it TOTALLY WORKS. Even with all the freaky magical dream shit going on, this book leaves you frothing at the mouth for more.

THE REHASH

In the first novel, it's our raven gang against the bad guy on their quest to find Glendower. Shortest summary ever. But this sequel is subtly different, taking each main character on separate(-ish) story arcs that all converge together. Adam is much changed since his sacrifice in the first novel, although he tries to deny anything is wrong, and has moved into an apartment above the school. Now he works all the time to cover the extra expense and has started seeing strange apparitions at the most inconvenient times. Saying poor Adam is strung out would be an understatement, and small fits of rage that are eerily similar to his father's are the side effect.

Meanwhile, Blue can feel herself slowly falling for Gansey and slipping further away from Adam, which she desperately tries to fight without success. She doesn't want to hurt Adam, but his new erratic, violent behavior only serves to push her away. Meanwhile, Gansey the fearless leader can feel the ends of his life fraying and tries to take control like he always does, but this is far past his abilities. His bff Adam is like a new person, Ronan is being a hooligan as always, his feelings for Blue are deepening, and his desperate search for Glendower keeps running into humongous road blocks. Things are coming apart at the seams and Gansey is at a loss for how to handle it.

That leaves Ronan, quite possibly my new favorite fictional character of all time. After the big bomb he dropped at the end of The Raven Boys, the gang is desperate for proof of his power. Ronan dreams up a toy plane that looks fake, but wows everyone when it actually works. He continues to explore his dreams and getting a feel for his talent, bringing back a variety objects that range anywhere from delightful to downright horrifying. And in his spare time he's street racing against the skeevy, asshat Kavinsky who's the local drug-dealer/party-thrower/fake-ID-distributor. He's known for his exotic drugs, elaborate parties, impeccable fake IDs, and getting things for people no one else can. Even though Kavinsky is obviously bad news bears, Ronan can't help but be intrigued by him, which only leads to heaps and heaps of trouble for everyone.

All the while, a mysterious new character "Mr. Gray" lurks in the background. He's a hired hit man sent to get something called the Graywaren, but has no idea what it actually looks like. His search leads him straight to Blue's house and dangerously close to the raven gang. The Gray Man knows they're up to something mysterious and he's determined to follow them, thinking they'll lead him straight to the Graywaren. And he's not wrong...

In the end, all of these loose ends come together in one explosive edge-of-your-seat finale.

THE GOOD

Okay. Listen. Hold the phone. We need to talk about how awesome Will Patton is. In my review of the first novel The Raven Boys, I touched on his stellar performance, but it needs to be said again. He has the BEST southern accent—the kind that makes you buttery—and it perfectly fits this series like a missing puzzle piece. The different voices Patton uses for each character has such a grand individuality, that it has greatly shaped the way I "see" each one. When that creeper Kavisnky first rolled up, I just about died at Will Patton's old-timey gangster sounding voice. Freaking perfect.

This time around I really enjoyed the subtlety of Blue and Gangsey's building relationship. During the first book I was worried their forbidden romance would turn into the main story line and overshadow everything else. That's not why I liked the first book, and after novels like Shiver and Twilight (sorry guys, I'm jut not a fan), I didn't want to see this series ruined. My worries were all for naught though. Steifvater does an amazing job using small actions or phrases to create an undercurrent of romantic tension that I love. I can't wait to see it play out over the next two books.

And I've saved the best for last. RONAN YOU GUYS. RONAN. He's just the best and I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS.

To me, the "bad boy" characters always feel hollow. They're too much like a stereotype and not comparable to any real person, but Ronan is a take on the classic "bad boy" that completely feels genuine. I hate even mentioning that stereotype because I don't want his character to get pigeon-holed. He's a loving person with a big heart that's been hurt, and he's pissed as hell, and I totally get it. Maybe this is just me personally, or maybe it's just where I'm at in my life right now, but Ronan is one of the most relatable characters I've read in a really long time. I'm so happy he was the central character in this book and I CANNOT WAIT to keep going.

These are people that I feel like I know. It feels like I went to high school with them, or that we're neighbors in the same town and that's the quality really tying me to this series. I'm completely invested in what happens to the raven gang and I'm a little sad I didn't find this series sooner. Despite all the fantastical monsters and magic, Stiefvater has written a unique coming-of-age tale that everyone can identify with.

THE UGLY

This isn't really a negative comment about the book, but more of a personal observation.

I had a hard time with Adam in this novel. Most of the time I felt bad for him in a wow-that-sucks kind of way, but I had a hard time wrapping my head around his motivations and actions. Obviously Adam was acting different because of his sacrifice to Cabeswater, but it almost felt too out of character to me. It made me sad, because I really loved Adam the way he was and I hated seeing him so out of it. But now that he has a better handle on what's happening to him, I'm hopeful it will get better for the poor guy. *crosses fingers*

FINAL WORD

This book is better than the first one. There, I said it. More action, more drama, more crazy magic, and MORE RONAN! If you even remotely enjoyed the first novel, do yourself a favor and give this one a go.

Originally published on the Laughing Listener

[ginkgou]

Favorite Naruto openings??

naruto opening 5: good shit man. it reminds me of teenage shenanigans. guitar blasting from the amp. bruised knuckles n knees. just good ole naruto boys bashing each other to understand one another’s pain. it just gets me emotional.op 6+7: 6 is a lil heartbreaking. it speaks of better days to come n pushing through!! best friend’s gone!! failing to save him! but it’s ok bc one day i’ll get him back!! it’s hopeful n nostalgic at the same time. 7 is upbeat!!! go for it!! friends by my side i can do it kinda song n it’s just sooooooooooo nostalgic to me. these two r just like, a sad smile when reminiscing old times. love it. i can’t listen to op 9 for my life. i think everytime i listen to it i get actual tears man. the sentiment is so real n profound in this song. the vocals r deep n being the last naruto op, it brings me back to the days when naruto was over, shippuden is here, the days when naruto n friend’s youth has ended n their teenage years r here, it breaks my heart. i still feel the same way i do listening to it now n when i was listening to it as a kid watching naruto. I DONT WANT TO PUT IT ON THIS LIST. BUT ITS GOOD. BUT IT BREAKS MY HEART. and then in the beginning where it shows a vintage scratchy naruto w his goggles, bright smile, silly antics? I STOPPED RIGHT THERE FUCK THAT SHIT NOT TODAY!!!!! NOOO!shippuden (not full list bc i stopped watching it at a certain point)op 3: if this isn’t one of ur fave from shippuden ur lying -_- vocals? wig. sasuke n naruto moments? gay representation. no need for full explanation. aoi aoi ano sora 😤op 4: shut the shit up oh my god the background music is beautiful paired with the vocalist w the buttery smooth voice n the dramatic guitar strums at the beginning? someone’s feeling real cunty huh. i nominate this song for the vmasop5: the orchestra go hard in this song man. full out. the singer has such a nice soprano voice. also there’s sasuke. sasuke super nakey in PURPLE LIQUIDS. but that didn’t. that didn’t effect my decision on this op. at all. not in the slightest. op 6&7: (again?? it’s like deja vu or something) 6 is hardcore, gets intense, 7 is downright sad :/ but the soft color palette at the beginning soothes it out a bit. or it makes it a lil harder to bear :/ but these two r just like. the tip of the iceberg w the events going on during the time. they’re like completely different in every aspect but it’s like. both r really good. like really goodok n this ends my ted talk when i finish rewatching all of naruto my opinion might change esp when i watch all of shippuden (but there’s so many goddamn fillers n the animation sucks anyways) stay tuned folks !

[danizignyc]

Every year I gotta praise the fruit gods when shit starts to get nice again. #bartlettpears are so buttery and addictive. When they're this ripe they are downright perfumed. #shoutouttothempear #🍐 #nailsbyme #inseason (at Chinatown, Manhattan)