#but it's pretty good like i think i could probably just eat the gravy and noodles and that'd be a good meal on its own

[intheupside]

who would survive on a deserted island (dkpitt)

Bryan Rust: I feel like Harkins probably could. He seems like a guy who would be climbing trees and cutting them down with his bare hands, maybe even chewing them down. I think he would do well.

Reilly Smith: I wouldn't say any of us! No, you know what? Harks. Harks could survive. He can probably find weird things to eat. He'd be sufficient at just getting by.

Jansen Harkins: Ned. He just seems resourceful, and I feel like he could just chill. I don't think he needs too much.

Alex Nedeljkovic: Jars. He seems like an outdoorsy guy. Survivalist? I don't know if that's a real word.

P.O Joseph. Not Ned! I'm going to say Gravy. He's from the Maritimes, I feel like they know a little about the outdoors is my guess. On a serious note, I think Ned would definitely be someone that would be good at it, just his capacity of adjusting in places. He would be good at it.

Lars Eller: Sid. He seems to be going different ways about things, about a lot of things. He doesn't rely too much on new technology, let's just say that.

Jake Guentzel: Sid. He's just an outdoorsman, that's kind of his vibe. I'm sure he could find something to live off of.

Chad Ruhwedel: Sid or Carts, or myself. They seem like they could handle themselves in a tough situation. I think I would do OK.

Kris Letang: Sid, he lives in the middle of the woods.

Erik Karlsson: Sid. I just feel like he would be very creative and would probably figure out a way to sustain himself for as long as he needed.

Valtteri Puustinen: I would say Kopi (Joona Koppanen). He's the smartest guy, I think. He knows what he's doing. I think if I went with myself? I'm dying. But he's a smart guy.

Joona Koppanen: I'll take Carts. He has the wisdom and the dad strength.

Colin White: John Ludvig. I feel like he's pretty handy, he'd like the outdoors like that.

Drew O'Connor: Luds, probably. He seems like he would. Look at him! He seems like an animal, don't you think?

John Ludvig: I'm going to say Cookie (Noel Acciari). Cookie's a burly man, he can handle himself. I'm pretty sure he'd find a way to survive wherever he was. I'll go with him.

Noel Acciari: Rudy (Chad Ruhwedel). He has a military background with his dad, he just seems handy.

Marcus Pettersson: Rudy. I think he's pretty handy, he could make something out of nothing, make himself a good shelter. That's big, I think he could build a shelter. Raks is a good fisherman, but the problem is he's alone on that island. He doesn't touch the fish, he hates touching the fish. He doesn't do it. So it'd be a problem, he'd need somebody with him.

Jonathan Gruden: I feel like Petey (Marcus Pettersson) would be good, just being around him for a little bit. He's pretty good, he could work his way around it and survive. Not OC. But P.O could maybe survive too. (Me: Half the team picked P.O for who couldn't survive.) I've got P.O's back! Maybe he's fooling me.

Magnus Hellberg: Can I pick myself? I'm really big into the outdoors and hiking, hunting, fishing. I think I've watched every season of Alone and all those survival shows. I like to be out in nature. When I think about all the guys, I feel like I'm the most nerdy with that stuff, spend a lot of time on the water. I would say myself, but in a humble way.

Rickard Rakell: I think Sid would do pretty well. I feel like he lives out in nowhere over the summer.

Sidney Crosby: I think I'd say Ricky (Rakell). He's pretty chill, I think he's got some survival instincts. He's got the tools.

Ryan Graves: Maybe Jars, I feel like he's outdoorsy.

Jesse Puljujarvi: Maybe Jarry. I heard he stays on a farm? So that's why.

Tristan Jarry: Tanger. He'd find someone to come pick him up.

[stardropsaloongossiptrain]

Bachelor/ettes and Cooking

Gonna rank how I think the marriage candidates would do in the kitchen

----

Bachelors:

Elliott -- it takes a while, but once the man has a real kitchen at his disposal and some encouragement to try, I think he would really enjoy cooking and could be very good at it! I HC him as growing up in a wealthy home where he probably wasn't allowed to cook for himself, and then the cabin has nothing... but he remembers dishes he really enjoyed. I like to think he starts cooking just trying to help out once he moves to the farm, and there is DEF a learning curve... but there's a master chef hiding in there. I can feel it.

Alex -- you do not grow up with Grannie Evelyn and not learn how to cook. Impossible. Now, he's not a fancy chef by any means, but he can make a meal without issue. If you get this man a grill, he will 1000% become Grill Master, Kiss the Cook apron wearing Grill Dad. Also, though he rarely does it, he can bake up a storm. Generally only bakes for birthdays.

Harvey -- He can cook, but only cooks healthy meals. He will need to be taught that it's okay to season your food. Brown rice, steamed veggies, and plain tofu/ chicken breasts type guy. Otherwise, it's pre-packaged frozen food. Maybe he can get better w/ encouragement but he's always going to be checking portions and making sure you eat plenty of fruits and vegetables and watch your sodium intake. The most likely bachelor to be vegetarian/ be willing to go vegetarian. Gets nauseated if he's preparing meat.

Shane -- Mid-tier like Harvey, but even though he's had kitchen access he rarely feels like cooking. He knows what seasoning is-- his usual cooking style is the exact opposite of Harvey, mostly family recipes. All flavor, calorie count who?? Loves making food covered in cheese, sauce, or gravy. His chili would win awards, but he only makes it once a year.

Sam -- He could keep himself alive if the box has directions. Anything more complicated than boxed mac and cheese, though, and he gets a little lost. Can help YOU in the kitchen very well, but to be honest he would rather be doing something more exciting.

Sebastian -- The only one who is a worse cook than him is Abigail. He is NOT allowed in the kitchen even to watch. Could burn iced tea.

---

Bachelorettes

Emily -- Oldest sister + working at the Saloon added together means she's definitely going to be a decent cook, but she genuinely enjoys cooking. She loves to experiment with different cultural dishes. She only cooks vegetarian or vegan dishes.

Penny -- She's pretty self sufficient. I don't think she knows too many recipes, but she enjoys experimenting if she moves to the farmhouse. She's very adapt at stretching a budget, and I think she would enjoy making jams/ pickles. Not the big amount the farmer does, but small batches in special flavors.

Leah -- She's a simple cook. She prefers raw dishes, or things like buddha bowls. A lot of texture and flavor. Loves using herbs and edibles from foraging locally. Leans vegetarian but doesn't mind fish from time to time.

Maru -- Maru is proficient at cooking, but I think takes after her dad too much and is very nutrient focused vs what actually makes a good meal. Occasionally makes questionable decisions in the name of efficiency. Could go from making some sort of casserole if busy w/ a project to Extremely Experimental if she has the time. No in between.

Haley -- I considered putting her higher but no. She has rarely if ever had to cook for herself before, so if she's at the farmhouse she will be surprised if you expect her to do anything in the kitchen. Eventually I think she could be fine. It's not hard. She just hates doing dishes. Enjoys baking somewhat, especially w/ Alex.

Abigail -- She eats rocks as a snack and thinks if you just crank the oven to 600 for fifteen minutes it's better than 350 for an hour. Her stomach is alien to this world. Can and will eat anything without issue.

[hotcheetohatredwastaken]

what do you think the chains favorite breakfast foods are (if they eat breakfast)

I WAS HALFWAY THROUGH ANSWERING THIS AND MY PHONE DIED AND DELETED EVERYTHING I HAD WRITTEN, DEATH AND SORROW AND DESPAIR.

Okay I'm good now.

ANYWAYS, I split you ask into two sections: first, their favorite food ever if they can get their hands on it, the second what they like to eat on the road. And then a final unhinged rant at the bottom about the one thing about teenage boys/young men and their food that I'll never understand: Bacon.

Legend--I have a feeling that he likes sweets. Specifically, waffles with whipped cream and berries. They're a little burnt, but Ravio made them for him, so he'll pretend he doesn't notice (and grows to like them better that way). On the road, he'll go for coffee/tea (he's not picky) if one of the others make it, or nothing at all.

Hyrule--does he have a favorite breakfast food? Food isn't very stable where he comes from--Legend and Wild would spoil him so much in regard of expanding his palate. But I imagine that something like a fried mixture of beef/sausage, vegetables, and a starch (perhaps an even poorer version of an already poor person food Shepherd's Pie, perhaps? it could be a breakfast food) would be a sort of filling, tasty, and easy to procure/make/preserve food that he'd like. On that note, I would say something simple, easy to get and preserve, and hardy would be his go to breakfast on the road--maybe meat jerky.

Wild--Also a sweets person. Fruit cake, cinnamon rolls, frosted cupcakes, basically all the little delicacies he could get at a dumb party 100 years ago, he ain't picky, it's for breakfast and it's fueling a day long sugar high. On the road he, unlike the other Links, can be pretty creative with his breakfasts, and he likes his spice as well. So, I think he'd like Meaty rice balls.

Four--direct this question to someone else please. He has four voices in his head fighting to answer right now, and none of them agree. I surely dont know if he doesn't.

Time--Pancakes and farm-fresh scrambled eggs and toast with jam. Malon makes it for him. What can I say. On the road he is a habitual coffee drinker, he wouldn't be functioning in the mornings without it. But he'll also take a poached egg if he has the time (heh).

Warrior--unlike Time who is a habitual coffee drinker, he is a coffee connoisseur. He likes the breakfasts they serve at the castle--a lot of meats and fruits, expensive, and on top of it all, well plated. Not to say that he can't eat simply--he was in a war, mind you--just that he prefers not to. On the road, he strikes me as the kind that would drink those tasteless quick oats (y'know you just add water, shake and go?) and also be very vocal about much time (heh) it's saving him (being none). I don't know what the Hyrule equivalent of those are.

Twilight--our favorite country boy. I think he likes a true southern breakfast. Ham and pan-fried potatoes and eggs over-easy, with a side of cheesy grits and sausage biscuits and gravy like Uli used to make for him (I HC this man has a black hole of a stomach, out of all the Links). On the road he'll inhale a boiled egg or two (salted and peppered if he's feeling fancy) that Wild made for him. I also head canon that Twilight likes tea with an intensity. And not only sweet tea, but like, ALL of the teas. He gets obsessive. I literally have in my detail/subplot tracking documents for BDOR the following entry underneath chapter 8--Tea: "Twilight’s cure to Wild’s voice is tea. His cure to life’s woes is tea."

Wind--whatever his grandma is making, probably with seafood involved. I've had a crab-spinach-egg casserole for breakfast before, it was good, so I'll give him that. On the road, I can see him packing a lot of bread and some meat (dried fish if he can get it).

Sky--This guy honestly has me stumped. Do those on Skyloft eat Loftwing eggs, or are they considered taboo? They have a lot of pumpkins around--do they incorporate them into their meals?@needfantasticstories you know a lot of Skyward Sword lore, bequeath me your wisdom. Anyways on the road he's a meat and bread person like Wind. Practical.

Now, for my rant about young men and their food quirks:

Bacon. Bacon, as I have witnessed, drives the most reasonable of men insane.

I just a few things to say about this. I have younger brothers, and I born witness to many male sleepover parties. I--as the resident nasty fe-male XD--have been (forced) to cook for them in the mornings. Set a pile of bacon in front of them (or really any meat, but I have found that bacon has the strongest affect) and they turn into WOLVES. They start to crowd around and stare as soon as they begin to smell it (which hey, give me space in the kitchen, please!), snatch it up before the grease even cools, and then retreat into their separate corners of the living room/kitchen and scarf it down, all while avoiding eye contact and projecting just how much they don't care about the bacon they're eating (perhaps so one of the others don't take notice and try to steal it). There's an odd little ritual/rules to the thing, too: for example, it's frowned upon to take more than three or four pieces at a time, there has to be enough for everyone, obviously; but if you finish a second and third serving before some poor sod stumbles in and gets himself a piece--why that is acceptable, even encouraged. But at all times, you could feel them watching each other, judging whether each person had taken acceptable amounts. 6 at once, I have determined, is veritably considered too much, as I have watched an entire group of mid-late teenage boys chase another through the house and outside for this crime of greed. Another thing was the presence of literally any other edible food. If there was anything else--eggs, fruit, even something like a few slices of unbuttered toast or coffee or juice sitting out, this reaction was largely tempered--even if none of the boys took the other foods, they would take a meager one or two pieces of bacon and be satisfied, perhaps reassured that other food was present and their hope of a filling breakfast was not in vain. Most, at that point they would restrain themselves from eating anything (other than their bacon tax) and wait so that everyone could eat together. But the mad scramble that occurs when there is bacon and only bacon in the kitchen (even if other things are cooking, nearly done, and visible to them) is otherworldly.

I never saw it with anything else, not eggs, not fruit, not even sausage or any other breakfast food. And it must be noted that I was exempt from their little ritual of judgement--perhaps as the only woman, or perhaps as the cook, I was allowed to take as much bacon as I liked from the pile, once the initial wave had attacked and retreated with their bounty (and the strips of bacon had cooled enough that mortal human hands such as my own could pick them up). And while they behaved like beasts, I was always very politely thanked for making breakfast once it was over and the frenzy had abated.

Anyways, your ask got me thinking about Malon making a pile of bacon for the boys, activating the beforehand undiscovered "PANIC! BACON!" mode in their brains, and just being utterly confused as they turn into animals. Just the boys descend, and then a few shouts of "Thanks, Malon!" drift in on the wind as they scatter like racoons with treasure, leaving an empty plate spinning behind them.

[colakills]

Symmetry was not, even remotely, in love with Joe Hills.

They were hardly friends, she avoided him as much as possible, he was irritating and not even that pretty and, to boot, she didn’t like men. So.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t like him,” Bratwurst said, simply, adding yet another scoop of gravy to his breakfast sausage patties. “I don’t like women and even I had a crush on PearlescentMoon.”

“Didn’t she try to kill you?” Hels snapped.

“Yeah,” Brat sighed dreamily. “It was great.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Symmetry said, definitively, spinning on her heel and marching toward their usual table. “I don’t like him. Besides, I thought we agreed not to talk about him? Hidden recorders, hello?”

“There aren’t any,” EX frowned, looking up from their pancakes. “Wormman promised.”

Xornoth and Symmetry made eye contact, before Xornoth puffed up xeir cheeks and went back to eating. They all knew better than to try to convince EX that Wormman may not have their best interests in mind. No one knew what his motives may be, but they were almost definitely not good.

The five of them settled around the little table in the back of the dining area, just like they had every day for the last month. No one was sure how they’d become such a tight knit group after nearly two months of avoiding each other, but they were, and here they were, a quarter of a year after first meeting, the only people in the world they could trust.

“I don’t like Joe.” Symmetry said, again, seeing Bratwurst open his mouth. “And I don’t know why you think that.”

“I mean, he clearly likes you,” Xornoth said, calmly. “It’s pretty obvious.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Okay Sym.”

“I mean it, you’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m just saying,” The demon leaned forward, tilting their head. “Isn’t it funny he comes in through your window every night, spends hours talking to you?”

“I think we should kill him,” Bratwurst said, abruptly and loudly. “I think that’s a reasonable outcome.”

“Don’t you dare,” EX said, through a mouth of pastry. “We’d probably have to pick up litter or something for that.”

“Or just get sent back where we came from,” Hels muttered. “Probably that.”

Everyone fell silent at that.

That’s another thing- they knew this was temporary. As soon as Wormman got what he wanted out of them, they were gone. Symmetry was going back to a fake name and a lonely, paranoid life, EX was going back to the void, Xornoth was going back to that amulet, Bratwurst was going back to the other dimension, and Hels was going back to… well… hell. They probably didn’t have much time left.

“It’s not a bad thing if you like him,” EX said, quietly. “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not.”

“Why not?”

(Because the ‘me’ he knows is someone else? Because I’m not a real person? Because I’m the funhouse mirror twisted version of a shadow of a woman?)

“Because this is stupid,” She huffed. “Like you’re not madly in love with Xornoth as we speak.”

“I’m sorry?!” EX spluttered. “I’m- what?!”

The table dissolved into chaos and stayed that way until Wormman called them in for their morning gardening session, and no one brought up Joe for the rest of the day.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #404

I got to sleep in a little today, which is nice, considering the hour I went to bed. I still have only around 6 hours of sleep, but still, I'm feeling pretty good today.

J went to his job, so M and I went to a diner in our area that recently re-opened after having been closed for remodeling. It was nice to return to a familiar place, even if it looks a little different now. They've redesigned the exterior, the interior, and the menus, too. The menu is a lot easier to read now.

I got a coffee. I'm not really sure why. As you might expect, I did my best to capture the swirls in it, as I mixed in the cream...

Feeling pretty hungry and knowing that it would probably be all I eat today (since it's a pain in the butt to have to scrub out the inside of my face literally every time...), I got a pretty big breakfast. This one was french toast with butter and sausage gravy, with eggs, bacon, ham, and a sausage link, too. I cut everything up and mixed it all together really nicely; the results could not have been more perfect:

M and I returned home, and M returned to writing his stories, and also checking for feedback on the things he's written; he typically likes to be left to his own devices when he does that, so I let him be. J came home for his break from work, and we were both feeling pretty sleepy, so we curled up someplace warm and took a brief nap. It was really nice. And then it was time for J to return to his job.

I had intended to work on my crafting project after that, but the other terabyte drive I bought to store my games on arrived, so I set to work moving my Steam games off my laptop and into the new drive. In addition, I tried to figure out why my headset microphone is so quiet. I came up with nothing, so instead I set up and started using a different one. It works a lot better.

Doing all that took more time than expected. J returned home by the time everything was all squared away. That said, I'm still up here, both writing this letter to you, and installing onto the drive all my games I didn't have room for on my laptop. I'll probably put all my non-Steam games on the new drive, too, just to free up some more space...

Today was blissfully empty. I guess I must have needed it; my head feels a little clearer. But on the other hand, I feel... maybe a little disconnected from you, which is abnormal.

And... yeah. Before you tell me we aren't connected in the first place... I know. I know that. I guess what I'm trying to say is that, for the last several days, my thoughts have felt distant from you, in a sense that I don't really know how to describe. It's uncomfortable and I don't like it.

...Maybe I'm just tired...? Or rather... dehydrated is the most likely answer. I think I've had like... one glass of water all day today. Or maybe it's just getting close to my cycle again and I'm just feeling a little weird. I'm not sure.

Whatever it is... I hope it's temporary.

...And how are you? Are you safe where you are? Have you been working on yourself? What kinds of stories have you been feeding your soul with? Do you sing little songs to yourself sometimes? Which ones? What are your day-to-day experiences like? Can they even be measured in terms of “day-to-day”? How do you keep yourself nourished and whole? Who is lucky enough to share your company? And... are the people who share your company kind to you? ...Where even are you...? Is it someplace warm and soft...?

...There's so many things I wonder. I wish you could talk to me. But I know very well why you can't, and why you never will.

I wonder how it's possible to miss a fictional person I've never met this much.

...Ah. I guess... I guess it must just be close to my cycle. Writing those questions have left my eyes a little misty for reasons I don't understand. Also... J and I went to his job to return some keys he accidentally brought with him. On the way back inside the house, I overheard an owl calling with a soft, low-pitched sound. I love owls, but... for some reason, this time, the sound filled me with an inexplicable sense of dread and loss, like a cruelly gentle warning.

...I can't explain. There's so much that I perceive in my world that I simply... can't explain. To anyone, and... it's a little lonely sometimes, I guess.

Oh well.

Suppose I'll end today's letter here. Maybe I'll work on the crafting project. Or maybe I'll just to go bed early; I could probably use it.

I love you. I'll keep begging you to remain safe out there in the world. Promise me, okay? Because I'm gonna write again tomorrow. You don't wanna miss it, right?

Your friend, Lumine

[thethingything]

okay, final Bread Quest update of the year!!! I think the last post for this was back in the summer and I kind of forgot to post any updates after that so here's everything since then. these are probably not gonna be in order but oh well.

Bread 19 was a tomato sourdough. it had a nice rustic vibe to it

Bread 20 was a rosemary, salt, and olive oil loaf. I remember this one being absolutely delicious

Bread 21 was a cinnamon brioche tear and share with the most artificial tasting cinnamon flavour I've ever tasted. it also came in some aggressively America themed packaging which was pretty funny

Bread 22 was a kind of flatbread/focaccia that I forgot to take a photo of but we had it a few times with various toppings.

Bread 23 was the Italian herbs and cheese bread from Subway, which we had way earlier in the year but I kept forgetting to count it.

Bread 24 was a rosemary focaccia. this is probably one of my favourites.

Bread 25 and 26 were savoury scones and fruit scones. I'm not sure whether you'd count savoury and fruit scones as separate kinds of bread (I kind of wasn't sure if they even counted but apparently they're "quick bread" so I guess they do) but I counted different flavours of other kinds of bread so it's probably fine.

and the final bread of the year, Bread 27, which we're having now right at the last minute, is stollen. it's fruity and sweet and sugary and feels very wintery

we didn't keep up with Bread Quest as well as we'd originally planned because this year was so chaotic, but I think 27 different kinds of bread is still pretty good. there's a good chance we probably forgot to upload some but either way it was a fun little challenge, and while most of the breads are ones we've had before, we did try a couple of new ones.

we also ended up branching out and trying a bunch of new foods just in general and it was really fun. I feel like doing Bread Quest and trying to find different kinds of bread to try kind of encouraged us to branch out more just in general and we ended up learning a lot about what we like and dislike, how different foods make us feel, etc.

also shoutout to biscuits and gravy, which we tried for the first time. it ended up becoming one of our favourite comfort foods and was one of the few things we could handle eating while recovering from wisdom tooth surgery

[amazing-spiderling]

for the least favorite ask game: episode of DD? matt murdock fanon headcanon or joke? marvel movie or show? fic trope? book you had to read at school as a kid ? place you went to for fun (doesn't have to be a whole vacation destination)? meal you've had multiple times but cant say no to because its what was being served?

Least Favorite:

episode of DD?

Probably "Semper Fidelis" from season 2. I think this is one of those episodes that is just rife with all the things that made that season not work for me. The Punisher trial could have been so interesting and it gets kneecapped because Elektra is impatient. Matt makes bad decisions for no real reason and his and Elektra's stuff is treated like it's SO time sensitive, but it's really not, it's just there to throw a wrench in the works. It sticks out like a sore thumb, and I just hate when I'm watching a show and I'm yelling, "Get back to the GOOD part!"

matt murdock fanon headcanon or joke?

If I never have to hear the "What to Daredevil and Scarlet Witch have in common" joke again, that would be great. Thanks. I'll be minding my own beeswax on instagram and then a random Turkish comic meme blog will show up in my feed and I can't read the language but I *KNOW* what it says and it wasn't even that funny the first time, guys. Let it go.

marvel movie or show?

Eternals was pretty darn boring for all the people in it that I wanted to like. I got a kick out of the Bollywood bit and then... the rest just didn't hold up to even its own internal logic. It's pretty bad when the fanbase is *begging* for the movie to be quietly erased from canon.

fic trope?

Probably "Dark!" versions of characters. I realize this sounds counterintuitive, given my love of Murderdock, but I think when I've given these fics a chance, they just tend to be, "Hey if your blorbo killed 10 guys with a rock and then kissed his love interest would that be fucked up or what" and there's not a lot of... *there* there. Or else they tend to read like someone is trying to convince me how dark and edgy they are and it's just... too difficult for me to get emotionally invested. Sorry, gang. I'm a hypocrite.

book you had to read at school as a kid?

The Witch of Blackbird Pond. I was assigned this book two years in a row and was bored to tears both times. I still have no clue what it was about because I could not focus on anything, I just remember being annoyed by the protagonist. I just tried to look up a summary and my brain still rejected it. :/

place you went to for fun (doesn't have to be a whole vacation destination)?

I'm just really not a beach person. I've been to Miami and stuff and I'm like. Yep. There's water next to some sand. Can we go home now? (I prefer the atmosphere of rocky beaches. There is Alaska in my bones.)

meal you've had multiple times but cant say no to because its what was being served?

My dad was one of like 11 kids, which meant I had a lot of aunts and uncles and countless cousins and for *years* the Thanksgiving tradition was to drive two hours to my grandmother's house where dozens of people would collect for a potluck. Being a dorky sci-fi and comic book reading nerd in a family of football enthusiasts aside, this meant that Thanksgiving dinner tended to be giant aluminum pans of dry turkey, gravy with mysterious bits one person in the family liked and overdone brown-and-serve rolls. It was often the worst meal of the year for me. Eventually when I was in high school, my older sisters decided enough was enough and we had Thanksgiving at home and it turns out, I actually like turkey when it wasn't cooked 10 hours before I get to eat it.

[allthemusic]

Week ending: 30 April 1953

A treat this week: three whole songs to listen to, and one by Kay Starr, who already gave us what's probably been my favourite song so far on this whole endeavour.

Pretty Little Black-Eyed Susie - Guy Mitchell (peaked at No. 2)

Well, we start off very chipper, launching into this song at a high-speed. And the whole song is just quick and chirpy, I like it!

The concept is a simple one: Guy likes lots of things, but he likes "Pretty little black-eyed Susie best of all". It's sweet, it's catchy and it feels somehow quite folksy, especially when Guy exclaims about how much "I love my pipe, I love tomaters / I love candied sweet pertaters" or "I love the sea, I love the navy / I love my biscuits soaked in gravy". It makes him sound like a good-natured grandfather, eating his food and being cute.

Not sure if I was Susie I'd be particularly flattered by the "I love Jane and I love Mary" line. Even if he does love you best of all, there really shouldn't be competition there...

That said, when we hit the line about how "I used to do a lot of teasin' / Changed my gals with ev'ry season", I do start coming round to Guy here. It's the good old "rake reformed" trope, and I'm a sucker for it. His ramblin' days are through, aww...

Musically, a lot to like here, from the clapping on the title line, to the deliciously vintage backing singers, to the whistling interlude, which doesn't go on so long as to get annoying.

I found myself whistling along while writing this, which doesn't often happen. A welcome redemption for Guy Mitchell, whose last outing was the absolutely terrible She Wears Red Feathers.

Side by Side - Kay Starr (7)

Another jazzy banger from Kay Starr, too - I'm being spoiled here! We get a lot of the same carefree, fun attitude here as we see in Comes A-Long A-Love, and it works about as well here as it did there. Kay Starr has charm by the bucketful!

The song itself is free-spirited and easy-going, all about how the singer and her love may not have the most money, but they get along, travelling through the world - you got it - "side by side". Which is already pretty compelling.

But the delivery is really everythin. Kay Starr isn't just nonchalant, here, about not having money, and potential trouble ahead. She's boldly and brassily staring the trouble down, almost daring life to throw its worst at her. That's the level of confidence here!

She has a lot of little technical things she does with her voice, from the sweep upwards on "looooad" to that little quirk before phrases like "a-singin' our song". You can hear them a bit better in this song than in Comes A-Long A-Love, with its tongue-twister lyrics, and the song's all the better for it.

She doesn't go in for lots of soupy backing singers, but she does harmonise with herself for most of the song, which is nifty, especially towards the end, where the harmonies come in unexpectedly, way higher than the tune.

And the backing is also enjoyably jazzy, from the saxophone on the intro to the big-band-style trumpets throughout. Fun, classy and honestly, a great song!

Pretend - Nat King Cole (2)

And we end on the slowest and most melancholy song of the bunch, but it's a nice cool-down from the madcap bluster of the last two songs.

This song feels like a song you'd find in a musical, with its sweeping strings and lush instrumentation, interrupted only at the end by a guitar solo, which I also like a lot. There's this tinkly instrument throughout, that gives the whole song a slightly dream-like quality that also works well.

It's sad, though, all about finding happiness by... just pretending to be happy? Seriously, I think this is just a song about repressing your feelings.

It starts telling you to "Pretend you're happy when you're blue" and ends up reminding you that "The little things you haven't got / Could be a lot if you pretend" - a clever mid-line rhyme, but a depressing bit of advice.

Then it turns to romance, advising you that "You'll find a love you can share" and that "Just close your eyes, she'll be there / You'll never be alone". Which I initially thought was about an unrequited love, but on a few listens, I got the impression that this bit was more about loneliness, and not having someone at all. Which is sad. There should be more songs nowadays about the experience of being lonely, rather than a specific person you're pining after.

And even the ending, which sounds so uplifting, isn't really a win for the listener or for Nat King Cole: "And if you sing this melody / You'll be pretending just like me / The world is mine, it can be yours, my friend / So why don't you pretend?" You can have anything, sure - but it's only pretend!

Depressing, but this song did actually make me feel things, so I'll call that a win. I could actually see a stripped back version of this being a hit today, it's got a fairly timeless blend of melancholy and cynicism that works well.

Man, this was a really good batch of songs! I would genuinely choose to listen to any of these for fun. I had most fun with Guy Mitchell, but admired Kay Starr the most, and Nat King Cole's the one who made me feel things. All strongly recommended Still, I'll have to award my favourite to the only one I could still probably sing along to five minutes after listening to it. Which means...

Favourite song of the bunch: Pretty Little Black-Eyed Susie

[crowleywowley]

Late Night Talking | Jim Hopper X Reader

Summary: you visit Hop on a slow night at the station.

Rating: 18+!!!! Smut!!!! Minors go away

Warnings: oral (f receiving), dirty talk, mentions of afab genitalia

A/N: this is porn with plot. I will eventually get off this hopper smut train but for now?? Choo choo baby

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The jingle of the bell on the front door to the police station snapped Hopper out of his dozing state. He knew he should probably be on higher alert with the tendencies of Hawkins, but the night had been going painfully slow, and his chair was practically molded to his back after years of use- not to mention the steady pour of rain hitting the roof of the building, all making it dangerously comfortable and tempting to take a nap. He moved his feet off of his desk and scooted back to peek out the door and inspect the visitor.

“Hello?” He called out, unable to see anyone.

“It’s just me,” you responded, coming into his view carrying two plates covered with foil.

Jim couldn’t hide his smile upon seeing you, wearing a long, black rain jacket that covered your work clothes that you still wore despite it being well past 9:00 PM. Your eyes were tired, makeup dulled since you’d applied it that morning, and your hair a bit messy after walking in the rain from your car,but you’d never looked more beautiful in his eyes. Truthfully, he couldn’t care less how you looked, he loved every version.

He stood to move to you. “What are you doing here?” He asked as he pulled you into his side, pressing a kiss to your head.

“I figured you were hungry, Ms. Florence mentioned that you tended to get that way on late shifts. So I brought you some dinner and company,” you explained, holding out one of the plates to him.

Upon taking it from you and pulling the foil back, he was pleasantly greeted by a small piece of chicken covered in a light gravy, a scoop of green beans, a small pile of potato salad, and about four different casserole samples. It was still warm, and extremely enticing, so he didn’t hesitate to grab two plastic forks from the box on the filing cabinet behind him and hand one to you before digging in.

“Retirement party tonight?” He guessed as he sampled the potato salad.

You nodded, stomach rumbling as you shrugged out of your coat and sat in one of the chairs opposite his desk. You’d hesitated getting a full plate at the actual party, knowing you wanted to meet Jim and eat together, but merely grazing on pretzels and nuts had hardly tided you over. Once you swallowed your (admittedly too large) first bite, you responded.

“Mr. Walton. Finally stepping down, I think he’s been with the company since it opened,” you wiped the corner of your mouth with one of the napkins you’d brought.

Hopper hummed. “He’s been there forever. Since I was a kid,”

You held back a small smile as you thought about the man in his younger days, running around Hawkins causing endless trouble, no doubt. Who knew he’d end up being the one stopping the troublemakers?

The two of you eventually fell into a comfortable silence as you ate. It was peaceful like this- the rain, the quiet still of the empty station (minus Hopper, of course), bellies full of good food made by the older women at the office. Even if it wasn’t a ‘traditional’ dinner, per say, you were both happy and content this way. Once you were both finished and the plates had been discarded, you left your chair in favor of a spot on his desk where you could look down to him.

“Anything interesting happen tonight?” You asked.

He mindlessly fiddled with the hem of your skirt, looking up at you. “I replaced the dead bulb in the break room,” he said, deadpan.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Wow, maybe I need to leave so you can get back to it, you seem pretty swamped.”

He echoed your laugh before swiveling his chair so he was directly in front of you. From this angle you were able to swipe a few stray hairs out of his face and really take him in; you always loved the way he looked in his uniform. It fit him so well, the sleeves pulling on his large biceps and the way it highlighted his belly. Even if he did look bored out of his mind after the long night, he was handsome as ever in your eyes. Placing your hands on his cheeks, you leaned down to press a kiss to his lips.

His hands went to the tops of your thighs as he returned the kiss. “Dunno, maybe you should stick around. You can help me do some pretty exciting paperwork.”

Once again you laughed before opening your legs slightly to invite him closer. He gladly obliged, moving to the edge of his chair and placing his hands gently on your hips. He gave you a gentle smile before leaning in once more to kiss you, this time with more power behind it. You inhaled sharply as he slipped the end of his tongue into your mouth, which you fervently countered with your own tongue.

You pulled back and rested your forehead on his. “Maybe we could do something other than paperwork,”

“You tryin’ to seduce me?”

Your eyes darted away from his and a sly smile crossed your face. “Maybe. Is it working?” You raised a brow.

His voice came out more soft than before. “Just a little.”

Jim’s hands moved from your hips to your backside, cupping-and promptly squeezing- what he could from that position. You giggled a bit and leaned back in to kiss him, your own hands pressing to his chest, you could feel the edge of his badge under your right palm, and part of his name tag under your left. You stayed in this position for what seemed like forever, though you couldn’t complain with how sweetly the man was kissing you. Finally, he moved from his spot between your knees, sitting back in his chair to admire you.

“You look pretty tonight,” he spoke, almost shyly. The words were a bit dorky, you could admit, but they brought a blush to your cheeks regardless.

Before you had a chance to respond, he grabbed one of your legs and bent it before placing it on his knee. He got to work undoing the buckle at your ankle, then repeated the process on the other leg. Once you were shoeless, he ran his hands up your nylon-covered calves, nearly no pressure in his touch. When he reached the hemline of your skirt, he slid his hands up slowly until they reached your hips again, thought this time uninhibited by the thick outer layer.

He leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to your inner knee, then the lower part of your inner thigh. Your eyes were trained on him, knowing where this was likely going, but not daring to move a muscle.

“Can I take these off?”

It took you a moment to find your words. “Yes,” your breathy tone was momentarily embarrassing, already rather aroused from simply being kissed.

You put your weight into your hands and lifted your bottom off the desk, allowing him to move his hands higher and pull the black tights down. He gently pushed your knees open more to take in the sight of your simple blue panties. Even though the two of you had been in similar positions before, you’d never done anything like this in his office. It felt dirty, wrong… but also extremely sexual. You knew it was unlikely you’d be caught, but the thrill of breaking (in reality non-existent) rules sent a shiver up your spine.

Bunching up your skirt for you to grab onto, he continued with his ascending kisses. “Lay down.” He mumbled into your upper thigh.

You obliged, of course, turning to make sure you wouldn’t crush anything important with your back before laying down on your elbows. His eyes flicked up to yours, blue eyes seemingly darker now. He looped his pointer fingers in the waistband of your underwear and pulled them down, you once again lifting your hips to assist him. You were now bare to him, trying to calm your heart with the anticipation.

He pressed another tender kiss right at the crook of your thigh, mirroring the action on your other leg. His mustache tickled the sensitive skin in the area, though the sensation was easy to ignore when he moved to kiss the soft curls in between the two spots.

Though it hadn’t been even a minute since he removed your underwear, you were already getting antsy. You’d been thinking about him all evening, and though you didn’t think you would necessarily act on those thoughts, now that you were in the moment you couldn’t help but be desperate for the man. He had lit a fire between your legs and was fanning the flames with every press of his lips to anywhere besides where you needed him most.

Finally you were granted relief when he placed the softest kiss yet on your clit. Upon doing so, he moved his tongue to flick over the sensitive nub. Your head rolled back when he repeated the action with more pressure.

“Been thinking about you all night,” he said before flattening his tongue and moving it upwards.

This made your hips shift up slightly, to which he responded with a contented hum. Your eyes closed without you even realizing it, brows drawing together as he increased his pace and pressure.

You felt him move his head away, causing you to open your eyes and investigate. He softly ran the top of his middle finger from your entrance up to your clit, dragging your arousal along with it. “Look at you, so wet for me already.” His tone was smug, though you knew he enjoyed this nearly as much as you did.

“Want me to touch you, baby?”

Your eyes closed again and you breathed out a ‘yes please’. He chuckled to himself before slowly moving his middle finger inside of you, giving you a second to adjust to the feeling. Though it was nothing compared to his cock, his fingers were still incredibly thick, much more so than yours. He moved it methodically, in and out. In and out. He sat this way for a few moments, taking in the sight of your wet pussy and the way you were already clenched around him. Adding his ring finger in, he pumped them one more time before returning his mouth to your clit.

“Fuck, Hop,” you moaned breathily. Your elbows began to ache, so you moved to lay completely flat on the desk. He curled his fingers into the textured spot within you, which drew out an almost pornographic moan.

You’d been more tightly wound than you thought; it had been a very, very long day at work, yes, but you could already feel the building sensation low in your stomach.

He continued moving and curling his two fingers in and out of you, and circled his tongue repeatedly. “Taste so good,” you heard him say, although it was becoming increasingly difficult to focus on anything besides how fucking good he was making you feel. When you first met Hopper, you’d wrongfully assumed that based on his cocky exterior ego, he’d be a selfish lover, but upon getting to know the sweet man behind said ego, you were proven absolutely wrong. He always made sure you were completely taken care of, and was more than happy to listen and learn what made you feel the best. The first time he went down on you was a bit bumpy, but once he found his rhythm, he found it and then some.

You weren’t sure how much longer you were going to last at this rate. It was all too much in the best way possible.

“Don’t stop,” you repeated the phrase like a mantra. “Please, fuck. Don’t stop.”

He knew you were teetering on the edge, and increased the pressure just so, not changing his speed. With practice he had learned that a steady pace wins the race, and when you say ‘don’t stop’, that does not mean try to do something different to make you cum.

You sucked in a ragged breath. “Oh god,” your palm slapped against the desk. “I’m gonna cum.”

The metaphorical cord finally snapped and white-hot heat washed over you, your orgasm intense. Your walls clenched hard around his fingers, and though he removed his mouth to watch you, he didn’t stop the movement of his fingers. Doing this only drew your orgasm out more, and you cried out loudly.

When the pulsing inside of you dulled to a slight flutter, he removed his and and pressed his cheek against your thigh. You laid helplessly on the desk, arm draped over your eyes while your chest heaved and you attempted to recover. You weren’t sure how long you stayed this way, listening to the gentle rain outside as you caught your breath. You eventually opened your eyes to take in the man before you.

“You are.. god. So good at that.” You said with a short laugh. You saw and felt him laugh in response.

When you were finally able to sit up, you gave him a gentle smile and took his hand in yours, pressing a kiss to each knuckle. Turning around to examine what had been underneath you, you squeezed his hand and jokingly grimaced.

“I think I was laying on your paperwork.”

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feedback and interactions always appreciated <;33

[one-more-offbeat-anthem]

Every year, Mike stays at Tri-County Auto Repair all of Thanksgiving. It’s not like he has any family to go visit, and he can watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade just as well on the auto shop’s tiny box TV as he can at home.

Yesterday, he’d said goodbye to all his employees, heard about their holiday plans. Chris is going out to meet his newborn nephew, Anita’s having a “Friendsgiving,” which was a new word for Mike, and Dean’s apparently planning on baking enough pies to feed the entire tri-county area. 

But with his microwaved mashed potatoes and turkey from the Baptist church’s turkey sale and a pack of cold beers, Mike’s just as good as the rest of them. 

There’s a knock on the auto shop’s door, which is probably an intrepid traveler who got a flat on their way to eat gravy and cranberry sauce and have awkward conversations. This is exactly what Mike leaves the shop open for, so he sets aside his second beer and goes to open the door. 

Except it’s not a random with a flat, it’s Dean and his entire family, and Dean’s got a pie. 

Mike hasn’t met them all, but he recognizes them from the stories: Cas, Dean’s husband, is the guy with graying hair and wearing an ill-fitting sweater. Jack’s the “kid” (which is, in Mike’s opinion, a misleading way to describe someone who is clearly in his twenties, even if he’s wearing a Frozen sweatshirt). Sam, Dean’s brother, is the super tall guy with long hair, and then the last person is Sam’s girlfriend, Eileen, who waves at Mike.

“The kid decided you needed a pie,” Dean says by way of greeting. “Never shoulda told him you’re here alone.” He looks annoyed, but Mike’s employed Dean long enough to know that there’s some fondness underneath that veneer. 

“Well, the pie is much appreciated,” Mike replies, taking it. “Thought you were some travelers.”

“We could get a flat tire, if that would help,” Cas says, deadpan. Mike’s only met Cas a few times, when he’s come to pick Dean up from work on the days Dean’s Impala doesn’t roar up to Tri-County, but every time, he’s pretty sure his employee’s husband is one of the funniest people he’s ever met.

“I could handle that,” Dean grumbles. 

“I’m sure you could,” Cas placates.

“Y’all got plans for the rest of the day?” Mike says. “The parade was pretty good this morning.”

“Did you see the Rockettes?” Jack asks excitedly.

“Yeah, they were pretty cool, huh?” 

They all talk for a few more minutes, and then Sam says something about how they have to go home and call Mom (which is interesting, because Mike is pretty sure Dean’s mom is deceased), and just as quickly as Mike’s visitors came, they’re gone.

Except now Mike has a warm feeling in his chest, and an entire fresh, homemade pumpkin pie to devour. 

Maybe next year, he thinks, as he settles back into his chair in front of the auto-shop’s TV (the channel guide says that Miracle on 34th Street is next up), he’ll let the travelers handle their own problems. Maybe he’ll ask Anita what, exactly, a Friendsgiving is and host his own. Or eat at the Baptist church instead of just picking up turkey.

(And he’s gonna have to ask Dean for his pie recipe, because this is phenomenal.) 

[devouringcambridge]

Sunday Roast at The Brook

I'm not an expert, but to me, the concept of a Sunday Roast is as British as afternoon tea or adding 'innit' to the end of all your sentences. There are so many pubs that offer this quintessential British cuisine, but today, I'm reviewing the Sunday Roast offered at The Brook. Located on Mill Road, The Brook is a cozy-sized pub with a warm atmosphere and some delicious ciders available...but how does their Sunday Roast hold up?

British Top Side Roast Beef with Horseradish Sauce (15 pounds)

I had such MIXED FEELINGS about this Sunday Roast. It was a roller coaster of emotions served up with a half-vat of gravy on the side. Some bites had my eyes rolling back in my head with ecstasy. Other bites belonged in the frozen aisle of a discount grocery store. Because of this, I'll rank each item, individually, from worst to best.

6. The Vegetables

I adore roasted veggies. Throw some broccoli, carrots, onions, and cloves of garlic on a roasting pan, drizzle with olive oil, toss some salt and pepper on top, and chuck that baby into the oven and I am more than happy. But these veggies had no tales to tell - they were bland, flavorless, steamed, and unhappy. Just like me after eating the lifeless carrots.

5. Top Side Beef

Seeing as it's called a Sunday ROAST, you'd think the meat would be the star of the show. And while it looks quite nice in the picture, the beef was so dry that I had to resort to dunking it into the gravy in order to make it palatable. It also didn't have much flavor beyond the gravy itself, which leads me to...

4. The Gravy

Solidly fine, and served with a generous portion. However, could do with more of a flavor PUNCH. As it was, I used it mostly as a moist-maker.

3. The Stuffing

And all of a sudden we jump from 'solidly fine' to 'oh my god, I wish I could ask for seconds.' The stuffing is invisible in this picture, and was a surprise to me. In fact, now that I'm writing this, I'm wondering if I got a different roast than the one on the menu...perhaps a holiday offering? Because stuffing isn't mentioned in the description, and I'm just realizing that there was no horseradish sauce in sight, either...hmm, well, all's well that ends well, because I'm glad for the swap. This stuffing was moist and packed with flavor - it tasted of salt, herbs, and garlic, and had a dense, crumbly texture. My only complaint was that there was such a small amount - it hid beneath the potatoes, a noble treasure.

2. The Yorkshire Pudding

My first bite of the Sunday Roast was a chunk of the fluffy, soft Yorkshire Pudding - and I can't be certain I didn't moan. It's been six months since the last time I had a Yorkshire Pudding, and I now realize that that is far too long. Honestly, I know a lot of people rag on British food, but the Yorkshire Pudding deserves to be appreciated internationally. I just wish I could describe it better, for those who've never tried one. It's almost like...the love child of a souffle, a pancake, and pita bread...but also different from all of those things. The texture is NEXT LEVEL. So freaking fluffy. And the perfect vessel for soaking up pan sauces and gravy. Ugh, I would have traded the beef for another Yorkshire Pudding with no hesitation. And honestly, the Yorkshire Pudding was probably THE best thing on the plate...but, they're also pretty hard to get wrong. Put a Yorkie P on my plate, and I'll be happy almost always. Although, I won't take away from The Brook here - they do a particularly good one.

The Roast Potatoes

After tasting the sad veg, I feared the potatoes would also be steamed and unseasoned. Instead, The Brook said 'try the best fucking roasted potatoes you've ever had, ye of little fucking faith.'

Crispy on the outside but fluffy on the inside, these taters were perfectly cooked. Flavorful on their own, they verged on orgasmic when slathered in gravy. And I don't even usually LIKE roast potatoes!

So, now, hopefully, you see why this Sunday Roast is hard to rate. How do you compare the worst steamed veggies I've ever had - even the ones in elementary school had salt on them - to the fucking best roast potatoes I've ever had?! It's madness. Madness! While the stuffing and the Yorkshire puddings also pull their own weight, I will say, because the meat is supposed to be the focal point of a Sunday Roast, I'm going to have to give this particular roast at The Brook a...

Rating: 6 out of 10 Gravy Boats

Honestly, if I had just been handed a plate of Yorkshire Pudding and Roast Potatoes, the score would have been much higher...although I'd be eating nothing but carbs. Still. Some things in life are worth every bite, while other things - like the dry beef - are barely worth chewing.

[diaryofabeautyfiend]

It Had to be Witches

Dean and Sam are on a hunt at Rowena’s request. When Sam is out of commission, Dean has to work with you.

Warnings: Unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it!) male oral receiving, fingering, mention’s of witchcraft, brief mentions of ritual style murders, brief mention of animal sacrifice, Dean is a sad boy.

Word count: 3567

All written and proofread (poorly) by me. All mistakes are my own. Please don’t copy or repost my work. Likes are great and I’ll love you forever if you repost and comment. Thanks for reading.

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Sam and Dr. Philips examined each of the women’s bodies. Carved into their limbs were runes consistent with the ones Rowena described. She said she was sending an expert who lived in the area but the boys hadn’t made contact yet.

“The other agent who was just here asked the same questions. Don’t you guys talk to each other?” Dr. Philips covered the bodies. Some of the women he knew personally.

“Different departments. You said he was just here? How long ago?”

“She. Her name is Diana Luna. She’s down at the evidence locker. All the women had the same necklace. She went to check it out.”

Sam thanked the doctor and set off to find you. First he called Dean. “Looks like Rowena’s story checks out. Her expert was just here. The bodies were marked with runes and all of their tongues cut out. And, get this, they all had the same necklace. Maybe a coven?”

“Of course. Of course it’s witches, Sam. Look, don’t go far. I’m on my way.” Sam was sitting on a bus bench reading coroner's reports when you approached him. Due to the nature of the case, Rowena insisted the elder Winchester carry out the task at hand. “Use Sam as bait.” she instructed.

“Agent Cornell? I’m agent Luna from the Lansing office.” You extended your hand. “Director Macleod sent me.”

“Yeah, I bet she did. Bring me up to speed.”

“Sure. I’ve got what you’re looking for right here.” You blew a very potent powder in his face knocking him out. You put the lankier Winchester into your truck and sped back to your house. Getting his dead weight up the stairs was a task but you did it. “Sweet dreams, Sam.”

Dean searched the entire town square for Sam with no luck. He tried his phone again and it was going directly to voicemail. Sam could hold his own against any witch but Dean was still worried. As he unlocked the door to the Impala, he heard you call his name over his shoulder and turned his head to see who was speaking. You blew the dream dust into his face rendering him unconscious.

He was heavier than he looked. You shoved him into the back seat and pried the keys from his hand. Baby growled angrily when she started but you had her purring for you in no time. You drove him back to your house and dragged him inside where you intended to tie him up. Rowena coached you on all their tricks. You took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and divested him if anything sharp. With his wrists and ankles bound in a pretty decent slip knot you splashed his face with water to wake him.

“Morning, handsome.” he smirked as you wiped his face.

“Big mistake, sweetheart. I’m guessing you’re the one we’re looking for.”

“Pretty and dumb. Rowena was right and you would be guessing wrong. Her name is Teresa Wilson. She came seeking asylum with our coven a few months ago. Said her whole order was obliterated. Turns out, she wasn’t exactly who she said she was.”

His face split into a cocky grin, “They never are. What do you want with me?”

“You need to help me find her. Rowena gave me a locator spell. When I cast the spell, I’ll need your fancy bullets. Problem is…”

He laughed heartily, “Problem is you can’t touch ‘em, am I right, sweetheart?”

“You would be correct.”

“And what’s in it for me?”

You took a step back just out of his reach just in case, “If you help me I’ll let your brother live.”

He strained against the ropes veins bulging in his forearms. “If you touch one hair on his head I’ll rip you apart myself. You hear me, witch?”

Your nails dug sharp into the meat of his cheeks so he would look at you. “Relax, baby. Your brother is safe. He’s asleep upstairs dreaming of puppies and rainbows as we speak. But if you don’t help me, he’ll never wake up. And, Dean, when I kill someone, it sticks. No resurrections for Sammy this time.”

You’ve never seen a human man snarl before. It was pretty cute. Rowena warned you not to be mesmerized by his sweet face and his Disney Princess eyes but you couldn’t help it. The man looked like he would, in fact, rip you apart. And, Hecate help you, you wished he would. You traced a finger along his sharp stubble covered jaw. His eyes turned up to look into yours, throwing daggers at you. “Anyone ever tell you how cute you are when you’re angry?”

“All the time. Get to the spell so I can take my brother out of here.” he growled.

“It’s not time. If I untie you, are you gonna be a good boy or do I have to hit you with my knock out dust again?” You couldn’t take your eyes off of his perfect lips smiling at you.

“Sure, mommy, I’ll be a real good boy.”

You knelt in front of him and parted his knees slightly to undo the first knot. “Such a smart ass.” He growled low in his throat when you peered at him through your lashes. His dick grew painfully hard against his jeans as you slid your hand up his legs to maintain balance. Of course you noticed though he tried to squeeze his thighs together to hide his arousal. “Do you like me like this, Dean?”

Of course he did. You were just his type. A little bratty but you had a good heart. Rowena told them about you. The little warrior for the Grand Council. They constantly sent you to do their dirty work and you did so without question like a good soldier. No wonder Rowena paired the two of you. You were the female version of him. “Like what?” His voice was low and dripping with need.

“On my knees for you. Looks like you do.” You winked at him but he looked away embarrassed.

It had been a long time since he felt a woman wrapped hot around him. Everything in him wanted to follow your siren song and happily crash. He couldn’t do it. This story always ended bloody. “You couldn’t handle it, sweetheart.” He peered down at the bulge in his pants. So did you. Your core heated at the thought.

“Is that a dare or a double dare?.” He spread his legs and licked his lips inviting you to take what you wanted. You shook it off and focused on the task at hand. “Well in any case, I made you dinner. Pot roast, potatoes, peas and carrots. Eat if you want.”

It did smell amazing. His stomach growled remembering that all he had was coffee this morning. The living room and kitchen were well lit and warm. He felt at peace in this place. More so than the bunker where it could sometimes feel clinical and cold. “You got a pretty nice place here. You all alone?”

A sly smile played on your lips, “Just me.” You sat the plate down in front of him with a cold beer and a bottle opener. The oven timer dinged and, when you opened the door, the aroma of cinnamon and spice wafted through the air.

“That pie?” He sounded choked up.

“Apple. I have an orchard in the back. Rowena filled me in on how to keep you happy.” You sit it on the windowsill to cool while you ate. “I can’t have you bashing me over the head and running off before we kill this bitch.”

He shoveled a fork full of potatoes and gravy into his mouth humming in appreciation. “Why me? You had Sam here. He’s much better at this witch stuff than I am. Why drag me out here?”

“You’re more reliable when making difficult decisions. You’re what I need. Another beer?” He nodded breathing in the soft floral scent that wafted off of your skin as you moved.

You didn’t offer any further information and Dean thought that was probably for the best. If he got in his head about the situation he would lose his nerve and that can’t happen. That’s how people die. As of late, Sam has had a lot on his mind. Dean would have to shoulder this burden. At least Sammy was getting some rest.

The two of you shared a comfortable silence only marred by silverware hitting ceramic. “Well that was delicious. Thank you….umm…I don’t think I caught your name.”

“I didn’t give it to you. I’m Y/N. But I wouldn’t mind if you kept calling me sweetheart. Pie?”

Dean's heart beat hard in his chest at the thought of calling you sweetheart “Maybe a little. So when do we do this thing?”

“Eat your pie then meet me outside. I have to prepare.” You slipped out the back door down a dimly lit path to your cauldron. You threw in the mandrake and tobacco. Last was the chicken that you had to slaughter. You grabbed a hen from her coop and stabbed her with your athame. It made a terrible sound which sent Dean flying through the back door ready to fight.

“What the hell was that?”

“Chicken.” You allowed the rest of its blood to drain and discarded the carcass. “periisti. lates. Ego te quaero. I vestrum adprehendet vos.” You chanted over and over until a glowing beacon appeared. “We have to follow it.” The orb circled the two of you then floated towards the Impala. You retrieved his keys from your pocket and started off for the car.

“Whoa whoa whoa. What are you doing?”

“Following the orb.” He grabbed your arm as you started to slide into the driver’s seat.

“No one drives my baby but me. You sit shotgun.” He impatiently waited for you to scoot over. When you reached for the radio he slapped your hand away. “Are you serious?!”

“What? There were other decades besides the 70’s.” He bit his lip and flared his nostrils letting out an unsettling growl. “Driver picks the music.”

“You are a child. Just drive. The spell won’t last forever” you huffed.

“So, just you huh? No boyfriend? Girlfriend?” You didn’t answer keeping your eyes trained on the orb. “Yeah me neither. Maybe later we can grab a drink.”

“My god. Can you keep it in your pants until we’re done? It took a left!”

He sped up taking off after it, “I see it. So that’s not a no.” That was all the invitation he needed. The truth was you would have given it up the moment those green eyes stared into your soul.

“It’s not a no. Let’s focus.”

Baby ate up miles of dirt road before reaching the highway. A couple of miles ahead the orb sped for an exit into town. You were led to the motel where the boys were staying. The door to their room was wide open and there Teresa stood bathed in the light of the orb. You bid it a job well done and sent it on its way.

Teresa, caught off guard, quickly muttered a spell pinning Dean to the wall, sending the gun skittering away. You faced each other down while Dean struggled. “She’s a kid!” he groaned in pain.

“I’m nineteen thank you. You don’t have to do this Y/N. Come on. We’re sisters. We share the same DNA. Let’s take them on together.” Tears welled in your eyes. You may have been blood but you weren’t sisters. She grew up far out of the Grand Council’s reach while you were their trained lap dog.

“Only half little sister. You’re hopped up on enough stolen magic to power the entire city. The Grand Council sent me to take you down. Adiuro te in nomine Hecate. Adiuro te in nomine Dianae. Tuae vires cum luna decrescant.” you chanted. She fought back but the binding spell was powerful. She didn’t have enough magic to hold Dean and fight you so she let him go. When he regained composure, he dove for the gun.

Without warning, Teresa gained the upper hand. She held out her arm and used all of her might to pull you towards her. Blood stained tears fell from your eyes as you struggled to breath. With every last ounce of strength you had you doubled down on the binding spell long enough to hold her so that Dean could put her down. The blast of the shot filled the small motel room filling your ears with a high pitched whining. You collapsed onto the floor where Dean scooped you into his arms.

“Hey, Y/N. Wake up. Stay with me. Shit.” He carried you to the car and gingerly set you down next to him. The drive back to your house felt long. When he got you inside he placed you on the couch and called Rowena.

“Is it done then?” she asked in her thick Scottish brogue.

“Yeah but your girl’s unconscious. She’s breathing but she used a lot of magic. A lot. I don’t think you’ll be calling on her anytime soon.”

“Keep her warm, Dean. I’ll be there soon.” The line went dead. He sat on the floor in front of you and brushed your hair from your eyes.

“Sweetheart, you need to wake up. We were supposed to grab that drink, remember?” He pressed his lips to your temple lingering there for a moment when he heard Rowena’s laugh trill behind him.

“I should add matchmaker to my long list of talents. Out of the way, Dean. I’ll get your girl fixed right up.” She patted his hand and pushed him aside.

His face flushes hot burning all the way to his ears. ”She’s not my girl.”

“Of course. Now, what seems to be the trouble, dear?” She placed her hands on your head. Her eyes glowed as she spoke over you. Your lashes began to flutter and you woke up. “There she is. Good as new.” You and Dean exchanged a look. “That appears to be my cue to go check on Samuel.”

“Thank you, Rowena.” your voice was hoarse barely above a whisper.

“Not at all, dear.”

Dean pulled you into his lap rocking you gently, “You scared the hell out of me, sweetheart.”

“I had to stop her. She hurt too many people.” You felt guilty for ending her but even guiltier for letting her go as far as she did. Guiltier still for not pushing harder to be in her life. “It was my fault.”

“Hey, no it wasn’t. What? You think you should have been a better big sister? You didn’t lead her down this path, Y/N.” You rested your head on his shoulder “All these years and all the stupid fucked up shit Sam and I did, I blamed myself. I took on that burden. Alone. It’s a lonely awful place to be. I’m begging don’t do that to yourself.” He held your face in his hands forcing you to look at him. He wanted to kiss you. You would have let him if he leaned in. Instead he brought you back down to his chest just to hold you. He saw so much of himself in you. You were headstrong and self righteous but your intentions were altruistic.

You melted into his arms so lost in him that you didn’t hear Sam and Rowena slip out. Dean offered his brother only a small nod to let him know you were ok. He had several texts from Eileen anyway. Happy to see his brother didn’t have to spend another night alone, he went back to the bunker.

You sat in silence for a while when you started yawning. “Shit. What time is it?”

“After midnight. I should get outta here.” You untangled yourself from his grasp but didn’t stand. His hands stayed respectfully at the small of your back. You locked eyes with him. Your core tingled as he brushed errant hair from your forehead.

“Or you could stay. We haven’t had our drink yet. Though, you don’t need to get me drunk, handsome.” You kissed his jaw and down his neck working your way to his collarbone. A soft moan escaped his lips when you nipped at his neck. “I mean you enjoyed me on my knees and all.”

“As pretty as you looked,” his voice was low and gravelly, “And, I mean you looked gorgeous. We really shouldn’t.”

You genuinely pouted your lips backing off of your ministrations, “Why not? I want to. And you clearly want to. You’re a fucking legend, Dean. Show me just how legendary you are.”

He arched a brow at you and smirked in the way that only Dean Winchester does. “Flattery will get you everywhere, sweetheart.” Finally his lips were on yours. The force of his kiss took your breath away. It wasn’t predatory or greedy. It was slow and sensuous bordering on hunger. His whole body was hungry for you. Dean Winchester was hungry constantly looking for something to fill the hole inside him. For the moment, that was you. He felt like he was floating and was suddenly very warm. If he stopped kissing you he knew he would just stop breathing. He couldn’t bare the thought.

“What are you doing to me?” His chest heaved. “I feel like I’m on fire.” Surely this must be a spell or enchantment. He pulled you back in for more but this time his hands strayed from your back. They traveled to your hips then under the hem of your shirt to feel your flesh warm against him. He had to feel you. To be inside of you. Deft fingers unbuttoned your jeans. Without breaking the kiss he stroked your clothed core working up a rhythm that flooded you with arousal.

“Touch me, Dean. Please” you cried. Pushing your panties aside his fingers explored your dripping pussy. His pace is maddening. Your hips snapped fucking back hard. “Fuck, Dean. So good. I need your cock. Want you to split ne open.”

“You’ve got a filthy mouth, Princess. Come for me and I’ll give you what you want.” And so you gushed around him moaning like a witch on fire. When your heart slowed to a normal rhythm you stripped naked. Before he could get undressed he took a moment to kiss and touch every inch of you. If this was only for tonight he wanted to savor you. “God you’re beautiful.”

“So are you.” You pulled him up and undressed him, never once breaking eye contact. His cock was red and weeping just aching to be touched.

On your knees in front of him you took the whole burning thing in your mouth. To Dean, you were the most stunning creature to exist. You swirled your tongue around the head while you hollowed your cheeks sucking him in deeper still.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart. Fuck that feels good.” His hands grasped the back of your head keeping you steady while he fucked your face. It started feeling too good like he would blow his load in your mouth. He had to feel your sweet cunt. “Let me feel you, baby. Fuck I need you.” You pulled off with a pop and climed into his lap. Both of you whimpered when you sank onto his length. The stretch was exquisite. Your pussy held him so tight. You ground your clit over his pubic bone while he fucked into you with a brutal pace. “You feel so good. M’not gonna last. Come for me, baby. I need it.” Your twat fluttered around him, milking him for all he was worth. You kissed once more fighting to hang on to the last tendrils of tenderness and warmth that you could.

“Stay. Please. Just for tonight” you whispered.

He tightened his grip on you. “Of course, sweetheart. All night.”

He hated to leave you but the sun rose like a beacon calling him away. If he didn’t leave then, he wouldn’t have ever left. Last time he stuck around and fell in love, he had to learn the hard way that he could never have this. Maybe he would call you the next time he swung through town. Maybe you’d spit in his face for bailing. He brushed the hair off your forehead and kissed your temple. “Bye, sweetheart.”

You woke when you heard the Impala roaring to life in your driveway. He left a square of paper with a phone number scrawled in pencil “I’ll always answer. -DW” You put on your robe, went down to your cauldron and threw it in with a few bundles of sage and some witch hazel to sever any feelings. On the next full moon, you’d do a cord cutting to make sure it sticks.

“See you around, handsome.” In his eleven hour drive back to the bunker, any feelings that you have would slowly fade. The two of you would go back to being too afraid to feel and far too afraid to fall in love. Dean wouldn’t hear from you again. He wouldn’t really remember where you lived. But, every time he drove through Michigan, he’d feel a twinge in his chest. And, no matter how many rituals you did, you’d feel him too.

[khargaotte]

4, 5, 19, 24, 26 and 29 !

Thanks thanks <3

4. mythical creature you believe/think is real?

Uuum none really? I guess the closest would be like... Fey/fairies. Like it's hard to walk in nature and not think "there's definitely beings of power in here that could harm me if I'm not respectful" so like sometimes if we find a very cool place on a hike I leave a cool rock or a piece of food for them. Just in case.

5. Favorite form of potato?

how dare you ask me to chose between my children

guess i'll give a shout-out to la truffade, aka a regional dish where i grew up that has potatoes sautéd in a dutch oven with lard (though my mom makes it with duck fat and it's even better), add in some parsley, and then once the potatoes are cooked you turn the fire off, add some fresh tomme cheese, cover for it to melt, then mix, and if it's done well you'll have cheese strings that CAN extend all the way above your head

(but also: a good old mash with gravy, and the humble glory of potatoes baked in aluminum foil to which you add a bit of butter)

19. the veggie you dislike the most?

Beetroot, hands down. I wish I liked it bc it's so pretty but no matter how it's prepped I can't get over the earthy aftertaste 😬

24. Which do you find yourself using, American or British English?

I honestly have no clue, I never managed to remember which points belonged to which other than the ise/ize endings and the theatre/theater thing. So prob a mix of both? Likely more American since that's most of the shows I watched and people I follow

26. How's your spice tolerance?

I honestly don't know 😂 my tolerance is much lower than O.'s, which always makes me think I'm kinda weak, but then we have guests or just eat with people generally and they drink 1L of water over something that I'm finding pretty mild/slightly hot but pleasant? So probably medium

29. preferred pasta noodle

Once again, how dare you

But the pasta shape i buy by default at the moment are the cava tappi from the bronze mold range in U supermarkets, they're pretty and swirly and catch great on sauce

For Asian noodles, udon hold my heart in their grasp and won't let go

But also I have an extremely soft spot for alphabet pasta, because "alphabet pasta with minced ham and grated cheese" was THE dish we would eat with baby sitters when my parents were going out when we were kids with my sister, so it's very much a comfort food for me!

[nugnthopkns]

dance me to the end of love (ii)

word count: 3.3k

warnings: fem!oc, alcohol consumption, cursing

series masterpost: here

a/n: part two baby! thanks for all the love on part one, it means the absolute world. i have so much love for this story and i hope people are enjoying it :))

Life is settling into a comfortable rhythm.

After spending a good chunk of her young adult life being incredibly studious, Magdalene can finally have the social life of someone in their mid-twenties. Though she’s still spending a fair amount of time by herself in the basements of the University of Denver’s library, Bette convinces her to go out more. Magdalene tries to fight, citing extra work or a good book as an excuse to stay home, but it doesn’t work very often. The pleas of her friend are how Magdalene finds herself currently lounging poolside at Erik Johnson’s house on a Sunday afternoon.

“How’s the new career treating you?” Tyson asks. “I feel like we haven’t seen you in a while.”

Magdalene laughs. “I’ve seen Bette plenty,” she says, “She thinks I won’t take a lunch break unless she shows up.”

“Would you?” the blonde girl questions with a quirked brow.

“Probably not.”

“I rest my case.”

A small crowd gathers around as Magdalene begins to detail the specifics of her job, but she doesn’t feel as uncomfortable as she once would have. In the month or so since graduating school she’s found herself slowly being incorporated into the Avalanche family. It’s almost certainly because Bette and Tyson championed her case, explaining that she doesn’t have much of a support system beyond the two of them, but she doesn’t mind. A few of the guys ask her questions about her work, curious as to why someone would want to spend their life combing through piles of old things. Everyone stays engaged in the conversation until there’s a shout from the kitchen that dinner is ready.

Magdalene shuffles in line behind André, filling her plate with various pasta salads and a hamburger. Once situated with enough food for two meals she returns to the pool deck, sitting on the edge and dipping her toes into the cool water. Bette comes and finds her a minute later and the two of them begin to eat.

She’s still relatively new to the group’s dynamic, but Magdalene can’t help but notice that Ryan is never around. In fact, Magdalene hasn’t seen him since her graduation party. Taking a casual sip of her wine cooler, she asks her friend about the man’s absence.

“Why is Ryan never at these sorts of things?”

Bette shrugs. “Isn’t a huge one for parties. He was supposed to come today, but I guess something came up.”

“I’m not huge on parties,” Magdalene huffs, “But that doesn’t stop you from dragging me to every single one.”

“Unlike you, Gravy gets enough regular social interaction that his absence is permissible. If Tyson and I didn’t take you out you’d talk to your cat more than normal.”

She wants to fight back, but knows it’s pointless. Bette has a point – if it weren’t for her the only people Magdalene would interact with are her boss and her cat. Instead, she grumbles under her breath and changes the subject to the trip Bette is in the middle of planning. It’s coming up in a few weeks, and Magdalene wants to hear a bit more about it before she commits. Despite what she thought about taking time off so close to starting work, it was encouraged by June, but she's refraining from telling Bette that. If it doesn’t sound like she'll enjoy it, Magdalene is banking on being able to use the excuse.

Bette explains that she’s renting a large lake house that is perfect for a relaxing week away from adult responsibilities. The property has kayaks and a hot tub, which pretty much ensures that Magdalene will want to be in attendance. She’ll hold onto that information for a little while longer though, if for no other reason to make Bette squirm a little. At some point Tyson comes to sweep his girlfriend away and leaves Magdalene at the party alone. She makes polite conversation with some other players for a while before heading home herself. Ryan never shows up, despite how much Magdalene hopes he will. At the very least she wants to properly thank him for doing her a favour, though her hoping to see him is much more selfish. He intrigues her and she wants to know more about the tall man with the dazzling smile and a proclivity for wearing all black.

☼☼☼☼

Barn Owl Book Company is filled to the brim when Magdalene approaches the store from the side street it annexes. She should’ve expected it – it’s the first of the month and their newest books are hitting the shelves. However, Magdalene doesn’t exactly have time to wait in line. June gave her only fifteen minutes to run and grab them coffee before they continue the massive task of digitizing a private collection that has just been donated to the university. She estimates it will take almost a month of extended hours to get everything done, and Magdalene believes it. There’s so much to wade through but she knows the end result will be satisfying.

Luckily the café line is fairly short, and Magdalene reaches the counter in a timely manner. “Hey,” she greets the barista warmly, “Could I just grab two medium iced cappuccinos?”

“Anything else?”

“No, that's everything. It’ll be on debit,” she smiles. Magdalene reaches into her backpack to grab her wallet only to find that it’s missing. Shit. The barista has already left to make the drinks, completely unaware that her customer is unable to pay.

Magdalene hears a voice from behind her say, “I’ve got it, don’t worry.” She turns around to find Ryan Graves standing there with a book tucked under his right arm.

“You’re a lifesaver,” she mumbles appreciatively. “I don’t know how my boss would take it if I showed up empty handed.”

Ryan laughs shyly as he pulls his card away from the machine. “I get it, everyone needs a little caffeine this time of year.” The barista comes back with Magdalene’s drinks, which she takes with a smile and a wish for a good day. The two of them head towards the exit, and Ryan pauses once they’re on the sidewalk. “Which way are you headed?”

“Back to work,” Magdalene says, nodding her head in the direction of campus. “I’ve got approximately five minutes to get there before June rips me a new one.”

“June?”

“She’s my boss,” she explains.

Ryan nods in understanding. “I’ll see you around Magdalene,” he smiles, turning on his heel and heading the opposite direction.

In a moment of bravery, Magdalene yells at his retreating figure. “Will you? We never seem to cross paths.”

“I’ll be at Bette and Tyson’s this weekend, and I’m counting on your company.”

Magdalene finds it incredibly hard to focus the rest of the afternoon. She keeps thinking about what Ryan said, which makes her a rather lousy archivist. June sends her home just after seven even though they had plans to stay until ten, citing the fact that she’s scanned the same photo three times before noticing. Caligula’s meowing for pets when she gets home isn’t even enough to distract her from the comment. The absentmindedness continues for another day or so, and it’s becoming so bad Magdalene is worried that June is going to fire her for incompetence.

It’s only when Bette calls to invite her over for dinner and drinks that her mind levels out. “I was wondering when I was going to get the call,” she chuckles absentmindedly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” is the response Magdalene receives.

“Well,” she explains, “I ran into Ryan at Barn Owl the other day and he paid for my drinks because I left my wallet on the table at work, and he said he expected to see me at your place this weekend. So if you never invited me I was just going to show up.”

Bette is smiling, that much Magdalene can infer by the lull in conversation. “I haven’t got the time to call you yet,” she concedes, “But consider this the official invitation to our house for a small party.”

“Anything we’re celebrating?”

“Nope. Have you ever needed a reason to party?”

Magdalene laughs. “Yes. Need one almost every time actually.”

The rest of the week passes fairly quickly. To make up for her blundering earlier in the week Magdalene offers to work a full day on Saturday, by herself, to get the project back on track. June accepts the proposition eagerly, and Magdalene lets Bette know she’ll be coming directly from work. Saturday rolls around and she spends most of her time getting lost in the past lives of the artefacts she’s dealing with. If someone were to ask Magdalene what her favourite part of archiving is, that’s the answer she’d give. There’s nothing more satisfying to her than holding a piece of history in her hands and imagining all the stories it would be able to tell if it could speak.

By the time she’s put in a full work day and finishes locking up the basement floor her department occupies, Magdalene is pretty sure they’re ahead of schedule on the project. She genuinely feels terrible about her misperformance and hopes June will be able to forgive her. On the way to Bette and Tyson’s Magdalene listens to the Leonard Cohen greatest hits cd that came with her car. The previous owner was presumably a big fan, and over the years Magdalene has come to appreciate the folk singer. She never got to see him in concert before his death but turns to his music when she needs to relax. Right now is the perfect time to listen to ‘Hallelujah’ on repeat because she’s seriously freaking out about the idea of spending the night talking to Ryan. Though she still wants to properly thank him and possibly become friends, something about him makes Magdalene nervous.

There’s no way for her to tell if Ryan is there when she parks in front of the house. She doesn’t know what kind of car he drives, or if he caught a ride with someone. Magdalene debates texting Bette to see if he’s there already but decides against it, knowing she’s an adult who is more than capable of pushing down nerves.

She doesn’t bother knocking and just steps into the respectably sized home. The music is loud enough that no one would have heard her anyways. It’s much more of a party than Magdalene was expecting – Bette invited her for dinner and drinks, not a gathering that could pass as a frat party. There are bodies everywhere, and she isn’t sure if she’ll ever catch a glimpse of her friend.

“You seem to be dressed for the wrong kind of party,” a voice chuckles from behind her.

Magdalene turns to see Ryan leaning against the wall, eyeing her business casual attire. “I came from work,” she explains, “And didn’t know it was this kind of party to begin with. I would’ve at least brought a change of clothes.”

“You look terribly out of place,” he agrees. “Can I grab you a drink? The hosts are too busy playing beer pong to, you know, be hosts.”

A giggle escapes Magdalene’s lips at the comment. Ryan seems to have a similar sense of humor to her, which will be beneficial for passing the time if Bette is already on her way to being wasted. “A glass of red wine would be nice.”

Ryan pushes off from his perch and heads towards the kitchen. The crowd parts for the six-foot-five hockey player, and Magdalene follows in his wake quite easily. Knowing the space as well as her, Ryan grabs a wine glass from the cupboard Bette keeps them in and pours the dark red liquid into it. He waits until Magdalene has situated herself on the island before handing her the cup. She takes it with an appreciative hum and waits until he’s grabbed a beer for himself before raising her glass in toast. Ryan does the same, and their glasses clink before each of them take a sip.

“What exactly is it that you do? I bet it’s something super cool and studious, but I seriously don’t know what the hell being an archivist means.”

Magdalene explains her job to Ryan, who is extremely interested. He asks nearly a hundred follow-up questions that she answers sincerely, throwing in a few jokes that luckily crack him up. Conversation moves to his career and then life. Magdalene learns that he’s from Nova Scotia, though he stays around Denver these days, and that if he wasn’t playing professional hockey he’d like to have a career in publishing. Ryan doesn’t press too hard when Magdalene refuses to open up about her family, which she appreciates. It’s a delicate subject that she keeps guarded close to her chest, and a friend’s kitchen in the middle of a party isn’t the place for her to divulge her deepest secrets.

The two of them get refills before exiting the room. Even more people seemed to arrive since Magdalene walked through the door, and the kitchen is no longer an empty safe haven. The music is so loud she can feel the bass thumping in her chest, giving the living room a club-like atmosphere, and it’s too much. Magdalene tugs at the hem of Ryan’s sweater to catch his attention. “Want to go somewhere quiet?”

“I doubt there is such a place,” he yells over the crowd going crazy over some early 2000s hip-hop track.

“Follow me,” she says with a smile, pointing over her shoulder in the direction of the staircase to the second floor.

It takes a minute for them to wade through the throngs of people, but it goes much faster once Ryan takes Magdalene’s hand and splits the crowd. A few boys, who don’t look older than twenty-one and almost certainly snuck into the party, notice where the pair are going and shout congratulations. Ryan shoots them a glare so sharp it could cut stone but doesn’t drop Magdalene’s hand. Once safely on the much quieter second floor, Magdalene makes a beeline for the bathroom.

“Are you coming or what?” she asks when there doesn’t seem to be footsteps following her.

Ryan hesitates. “I, uh, can just wait out here while you’re in there,” he stammers.

Magdalene’s laugh rings out through the empty hallway. “I’m not going to the bathroom. We’re going out the window.”

He isn’t sure how that’s any better, but Ryan follows the brown-haired girl into the room. It takes considerably more work for him to fit through the frame, but after some directions from Magdalene he makes it onto the roof. She sits down and pats the space beside her, encouraging Ryan to do the same. They stay out there, discussing anything that comes to their heads, until the party’s numbers dwindle drastically. Magdalene makes sure to properly thank him for both attending her graduation and spotting her coffee money, and she thinks Ryan might blush a little when she offers to get the next round. He asks about her love of The West Wing, and they launch into a long conversation about the show and cast. The sun fades to black and the cold sets in, and Magdalene finds herself wrapped in Ryan’s sweater without asking. It’s only when she notices it’s approaching midnight that Magdalene clues into how tired she is.

“I think I’m going to head out,” she yawns. Ryan nods in agreement and holds the window open for her to slip in through. Once downstairs, Magdalene goes to lift the sweater from her frame but Ryan stops her.

“Keep it for drive home. I’ll get it back next time we see each other.”

Still feeling bold from the alcohol that left her system hours ago, she reaches out to poke him in the chest. “And when will that be, hm? You seem to enjoy leaving our meetings up to chance.”

It’s Ryan’s turn to laugh. “Think you can swing an extended lunch break on Wednesday? I’ll be at Barn Owl all afternoon. Maybe you can join me for a coffee.”

Magdalene likes the sound of that and agrees. She leaves without seeing Bette or Tyson once, but she doesn’t mind. They’d be happy for her blooming friendship – or at least she’s pretty sure they will be once she calls to fill them in on the details.

☼☼☼☼

Wednesday rolls around without incident, and Magdalene is given a full hour to eat instead of thirty minutes. Walking time has to be accounted for, of course, but she should have nearly forty-five minutes to spend with Ryan if she plays her cards right. There’s no crowd this time, and it’s incredibly easy to spot Ryan sitting in the window she loves to claim as her own.

“Hey,” Magdalene greets, “Did Bette tell you to sit here?”

He shakes his head, perplexed at the question. “No, why?”

“It’s just my favourite seat in the store, that’s all. I thought she told you how to gain some extra brownie points.”

“Should I be concerned about the amount of points I have?” Ryan teases, sliding a cup and pastry bag across the table and into her hands.

Magdalene shakes her head, smiling widely. “You’re doing alright so far. Keep up the good work.”

They eat at a comfortable pace, taking breaks to engage in interesting topics of conversation or take sips of their drinks. Ryan insists his life is boring, but Magdalene is enthralled by the stories he tells. It’s completely different from hers and she feels as though she can live vicariously through the tales of walking through the historic downs of the east coast and swimming in the Pacific Ocean on days off in California. After squeezing every story possible from the man Magdalene shifts gears slightly.

“So, are you going on the trip in a couple of weeks?”

“It’s looking that way,” Ryan shrugs with relative indifference, “Nate doesn’t think he’ll be able to come back, something about a development camp he’s running having the dates switched. He’s asked me to take his spot.”

His neutral mood confuses her. When Bette mentioned his probable attendance months ago, it sounded like he was enthusiastic about spending a week with friends doing nothing to swimming and drinking. “You don’t want to go?” Magdalene probes.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, but sometimes the group parties a little harder than I like to,” he sighs, raising a hand and running it through his hair. That’s something she understands completely, having spent a few too many nights being the sober one out.

“I’ll be there.” It’s Magdalene’s turn to shrug, but the comment holds an incredible amount of hope.

“Well then, that changes everything.”

Was Ryan flirting with her? She spends the rest of lunch thinking about the possibility, and truthfully, it occupies her brain for the rest of the day. However, she keeps her focus and June is none the wiser to the butterflies in her stomach. Work finishes without much fanfare, and her dinner is silent save for the few meows of conversation Caligula offers. It’s late by the time Magdalene falls into bed, cat snuggled into the pillow beside her. On a whim she decides to check Instagram and sees a message request from none other than the man who’s smile has been replaying in her mind. A follow request accompanies it.

Thought that maybe we could quit leaving our meetings to chance and plan something next time :)

He has to be flirting. There’s no other explanation for the witty banter they’ve shared this week, or why he’s reaching out to her on social media. The butterflies in her stomach multiply tenfold as Magdalene types out a reply.

I don’t know, it’s kind of fun being shrouded in mystery. However, I now have the opportunity to stalk your profile ;)

Before she can overthink her use of the emoji, Magdalene shoves her phone in the drawer of her nightstand and rolls over. A slight smile can’t help but appear on her features as she falls asleep, already curious about what his reply will be.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy @samsteel @lovethepreds (add yourself to the taglist!)

[rainyfestivalsweets]

9/29/22

Traveling day.

Made pretty good choices. Cleaned and ate before I left, watching Gotham. So hopefully I won't be going home to a pig sty.

I have continued to think about possible hangup and how to move past this plateau. 🤔

When I was in the 230's and 240's before, the [sic] love of my life started cheating on me with an 18 year old gastric bypass patient. It was hella traumatic. I lost everything. My heart was beyond broken. I ended up selling my house to her and leaving, basically losing the family I had fought so hard for.

I have felt untethered since then.

I did eventually remarry, so someone who basically loved me more than anything ever ( & got me fatter than ever) until they didn't--and some 21 year old puppy wannabe came along.

Got divorced. It was all chronicled on a blog that tumblr deleted. So again, thanks for that. I should have written it somewhere safe, because this wasn't and there was so so so much shit you guys.

So what was my takeaway from that? That my person will leave me if I become successful at weight loss??

How is that stopping me? My gf and I are not super serious. We don't have sex. We live separately. We actually seem better over the phone than in person. I struggle with their affection signals. [Sigh]

So why am I hung up here? How is that previous experience applicable to this situation?

It doesn't matter if she breaks up with me. Granted, I will be sad and lonely.... but it won't be fucking tragic.

So I am working on doing some mind reconditioning to change my inner language. Trying to redirect myself whenever I think bad thoughts. Honestly, I am just touch starved and body lonely. I can barely have an orgasm anymore, because I often start crying during, which probably doesn't fucking help.

It is safe for me to continue losing weight. I still have a large amount of fat. I will reconsider after dropping under 200 to see where I am with muscle mass. But I still have a rather large spare tire right now. So I know it isn't because I am in a physical danger zone. Mid 240s is still high for a female almost regardless of muscle mass.

So other wins: I am trying to concentrate on foods with lots of veggies, low calorie noodles, and protein.

So back to today- mostly good choices with the exception of breakfast. Which was a snickers and an apple while I cleaned my car. I had lunch before I left- which was veggies & gravy leftover from the other night, and a vegan harvest bowl. I gave the steak to mom to lower the cals for me. The bowl thing I bought a bunch of while they were on clearance and I wanted to try it. Small bowl of chickpeas and lentils in like a curry seasoning. 360 cals. So perfect to have with a veggie.

Road snacks. Drinks-- A pink Starburst crystal light thing, dt coke, cherry coke zero, and a pumpkin apple chai with fiber. Snacks-- Sweet c jelly, snow peas, carrot chips. Hard boiled eggs.

When I got to the hotel, I just got ready right away. Played in my phone a bit. Decided to wait to eat.

Went to an awesome show! It was great. No drinking, had a bottle of water.

Walked to the grocery store after. Bought 2 bananas, a pack of pickled green beans, and a cauli pizza bowl.

Ate a banana 🍌 right out of the store. Ate the pickled beans on the way back to the hotel.

Got back to the hotel, ate a salad first- but without most of the dressing.

Then ate my pizza bowl.

Took a bath and had 3 "moments."

Out of all the ways I could have undercut my healthy diet today, I think I won. No fast food. No drinking. Healthy food. Good choices all around except for the snickers. My workout was cleaning. I was sweating during but I wanted to be able to come home to a semi clean house.

[stagefoureddiediaz]

11 Questions

Tagged by @theladyyavilee thank you 😎

Rules: Answer the following 11 questions and then ask 11 of your own and tag people

1. What is a topic that you like to research just for fun and have more than just average amounts of knowledge about? (not like something you studied, just something that really interests you)

Ok so this is pretty random, and technically it’s related to my job, but it’s a side project I work on for fun! My specialist subject is 17th century English Silk armour, but my research into it has lead me to the Mughal Empire and Akbar, (which has become another fascination for me because he’s such an interesting character!) and to Japan and the Edo dynasty!

2. What’s your love language, but instead of the normal list, you use this one?

Ooh a tough choice but I think eating together is going to win because it’s a time when you can be in each other’s presence and enjoy something as simple or fancy as you choose!

3. do you like the time right before sunrise, right as the sun is rising, right as the sun is going down or right after sunset best?

Hmmmm as the sun is going down I think, I’m a night owl so it’s the time of day when I feel most alive. And there is no greater joy in life than sitting on a cliff watching the sun descend into the ocean - it’s magical and spiritual!

4. What is your favorite type of cake?

Give me all the red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting 😋

5. What is a line from a movie/tv show or a book or a fanfic that has stuck with you for a really long time?

I have two

‘The Prince has read utopia’ from ever after is a line that randomly pops into my brain on a regular basis - it’s one of my favourite films - I had it on vhs as a child and watched it so many times I wore the tape out (how my asd and adhd didn’t get diagnosed until I was an adult is beyond me 🤦🏻‍♀️) and as a result I read utopia at the grand old age of 13!!

The other is ‘in vain I have struggled, it will not do’

From my beloved pride and prejudice- it’s a line I quote all the time because it’s so relatable - only that section (although I’ve read the book so many times I think I could probably recite it backwards by now!!) because I find so many things a struggle that quoting that line makes me smile and makes things seem a little less infuriating!!

6. Do you have like a go-to recipe you cook when cooking for other people, because you know you are good at making it?

I am Eddie - I cannot cook!! I’m not sure how I’ve survived these last few years of living on my own! But I can make exactly 1 meal - toad in the hole with cauliflower cheese, vegetables and gravy! It’s my ultimate comfort food!

7. if you had to live in isolation for one month with one of the 911 characters (preferably without murdering each other xD) which one would it be and why?

Eddie my beloved you’re gonna be stuck with me for a month and I’m going to pry open your brain and make you deal with your repression and trauma so when we’re free you are in a place to talk to Buck and Christopher and finish building the Buckley-Diaz family you’ve been working on since the day you joined the 118!!! (He may very well want to murder me by the time we were freed! 🤣)

8. what is one song that you like to listen to when you are in a really good mood? (think dancing in the kitchen, singing along at the top of your lungs with the windows open kinda good mood xD)

The Chariot by The Cat Empire - they’ve been my favourite band for nearly 20years their music has got me through some dark times and this song never fails to make me jump around and sing at the top of my lungs. If I’m feeling a bit down this is the song that will get me out of my funk.

9. if you could spend one day in the world of any of your favorite childhood stories, which would you choose

See this is such a good question, but also so hard because I’d love to visit the faraway tree, but I’d also really like to go to the haven and hang out with the fairies (from Artemis fowl!) not to mention discworld, but I think Narnia is always going to be the place I want to visit the most because I spent so much of my childhood checking every wardrobe to see if I could get to Narnia. (Fun story - growing up I had a playroom that I shared with my sister- it was next to my bedroom and because the wall was only a partition and I had a lockable old gentleman’s wardrobe, my mum cut a hole in the wall and took the back off the wardrobe so I could climb through into the playroom which mum painted to look like lantern waste - we even had a lamppost in the room!!

10. as a concept for magic in a fantasy book do you prefer emotion/intent/focus-based, spell/writing/words-based or potion/ingredient/material-based? or another concept alltogether?

Spell/writing/words based - I love when magic is shown as using ancient languages - Merlin did it really well - all the spells were from ancient English and Celtic languages (I learnt some ancient English as a result of Merlin 🤣🤣🤣)

11. If you had to chose one of these fanfic tropes to be the only one you got to read from now on, which one would it be: friends to lovers, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, found family (yes I know, these work best TOGETHER, that’s what makes this a hard question, because you only get fanfics that include NONE of the other tropes xD)

This is just mean!!! I’m going friends to lovers because it’s the one I relate to most as a Demi person!!

Ok here are my 11 questions!

1. If you could play one musical instrument and be really good at it, what would it be and why and what would you use this talent for??

2. If you could do one thing over, without affecting the space time continuum, what would you do and why?

3. If you got to appear in an episode of 911, which one would you be in and what would be your storyline?

4. What is the stupidest thing you’ve done I want to know all the gory details

5. What is your earliest memory?

6. What is the best compliment you’ve ever received? (Give us the context for it as well!)

7. What was the last lie you told and why did you feel the need to lie?

8. If money was no object, what will you be buying and why?

9. What is your favourite possession?

10. What does your name mean and why was it given to you (if you don’t want to reveal you real name, then tell me about your username 😎)

11. What’s the most unusual thing on your bucket list?

I’m tagging @reindeerbuckaroo @djdangerlove @lovecolibri @moniquekatie @outrunningthedark @reallysmartladymariecurie and @leothil

Don’t feel obliged to join in or tag anyone, and if anyone else would like to join in the fun please do!