#does nobody else put tomato sauce on it or...

[konigsblog]

könig is probably the type of person to put berries (blueberries, strawberries, and blackberries) and sweet maple syrup all over his french toast.

putting tomato sauce/ketchup is the ONLY correct answer 🍅

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

The Mango (The Surprise, Part 13)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: explicit language, innuendo, implied sex, periods, mostly just fluff, reader taking care of Emily because our girl deserves it Word count: 1.9k

Summary: Emily comes back from a hard week in the field and you treat her in all the ways you can possibly think of. Because she's baby girl and she deserves to be taken care of.

Week 23: The Mango

In both your personal and professional life, you were a wildly independent person. Self-sufficient, dedicated, proud of the work you did and how hard you’d worked to get where you were. You were nobody’s doormat, nobody’s housekeeper, nobody’s mom.

If anyone else you knew, especially men, asked you to cook for them or do their laundry or take care of them in any way, you would have been personally affronted. You would have said, “You’re a fucking grown-up, do it yourself. I’m not your mom.” And you’d mean it.

So it embarrassed you a bit that, with Emily, you acted like a full-blown ‘50s-style housewife and you loved it. Not all the time, of course. But enough of the time that you couldn’t just brush it off. Dinner on the table when she got home? Your pleasure. Packing her lunch? A joy. Doing the laundry and making sure she always had a second go-bag packed and ready in case there was a quick turnaround on cases? You lived for that shit, especially when you hid little notes in the pockets that said things like:

I love you (so does little mango)!

We miss you! <3!

So proud of you for saving lives and kicking criminal ass! P.S. It’s hot. ;)

The bottom line? You were down bad for Emily. You had been from the moment she’d asked you out and all the years since. But after you’d gotten pregnant, your roles had switched a bit. Emily had always taken care of you well, but in the last few months she'd taken over significantly more of the household tasks since you were often tired and achy. You ordered takeout more often than you cooked (Emily had tried, but after her third time setting off the fire alarm you’d said, “You know what, babe, why don’t we just order out?”).

You missed taking care of Emily. God knows, she wouldn’t let anybody else do it. So when she’d called you from the jet to let you know she was on her way home after a grueling week in the field–made even more grueling by the fact that she was on her period–you set out to treat Emily right. To treat her in all the ways you used to treat her before you got pregnant, in all the ways that Emily deserved to be treated and so rarely let herself be.

You had groceries delivered to make her favorite meal, and when the little Find My dot that was Emily showed up at Quantico and started making its way back to DC, you ran her a bath–water scalding so it’d be nice and hot when she came in, fragrant with lavender Epsom salts. You lit candles, turned the bathroom lights low, even put her favorite hoodie and sweatpants and a fluffy towel in the dryer so they’d be toasty and warm when she got out of the bath.

You started on dinner, playing Emily’s favorite Salah Ragab record on the turntable. The food processor growled as it worked overtime to blend a homemade hummus, complete with your secret ingredient: a splash of aquafaba. You chopped parsley and mint for fattoush, made a marinade for the chicken flavored with all the spices Emily loved so much from her childhood years in Oman and Egypt, sumac and cardamom and coriander and all the others that you ordered online from a specialty Middle Eastern spice seller.

Your oven shawarma wasn’t as good as shawarma from a spit in Cairo, but it was about as close as you could get at home, and Emily loved it. And you made a damn good fattoush and hummus. You sliced cucumbers and tomatoes, whipped together a quick yogurt sauce.

You’d just put the chicken and veggies in the oven and were starting on the cream cheese filling for the stuffed dates when you heard the door open and shut.

“In the kitchen!” you called, hands sticky from slicing the dates.

Emily looked exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes, her blazer rumpled from a long day of travel. But her face lit up when she saw you.

“Do I smell… shawarma?!” she asked, wrapping her arms around your waist and kissing your neck, her hands resting protectively over your baby bump.

“Mmhm.” You grinned, feeling Emily’s body melt into yours, the tension in her muscles already dissipating.

“What’s the occasion?” She turned you around, so she could lean her arms on your shoulders, running her fingers through your hair.

You shrugged. “Can’t a girl just want to treat her wife?”

“She sure can.” Emily smiled and leaned in to press her lips softly to yours. You held your hands out at your sides so you wouldn’t be tempted to press them into Emily’s clothes or skin.

Emily pulled away, watching you lovingly as you sliced and mixed and stirred.

“Can I help with anything?” she asked, lowering herself into a chair and wincing slightly.

“In the kitchen!?” You scoffed. “Absolutely not. There’s a bath ready for you, so go relax for a bit.”

Her eyes brightened. “Aw, honey. That’s so sweet of you.” She grabbed your hips again, once again turning you away from the counter so she could press you against it in a hungry kiss.

You giggled and swatted at her with a dish towel. “Go before the water gets cold!”

“Care to join?” she asked suggestively, pulling lightly at the waistband of your shorts.

You smirked, gently grasping her fingers and moving them away. “I have to finish dessert.”

Emily walked toward the bathroom like a scolded puppy, looking back with big eyes. “I can think of something else I’d rather have for dessert,” she commented, eyebrows raised.

You waved her off, blushing furiously. “Get out of here, you dork! Go take your bath!”

“I thought we were treating me tonight!” Emily called from the bathroom.

“That’s an after-dinner treat, honey,” you yelled back. “I’ve got shit to do first.”

“Fine! But I’m gonna hold you to that!”

You shook your head, grinning, as you spooned cream cheese filling into the halved dates, pressing them into a mixture of crushed pistachios and rose petals. God, you loved your wife.

When the dates were plated, the bulgur in the fattoush soaked through, the pita warmed, and the chicken covered in foil and resting on the counter, you washed your hands and went to find Emily, grabbing her comfy clothes and towel from the dryer.

You heart surged when you found her still in the tub, eyes closed, face relaxed. This is what your girl deserved. You leaned down to kiss her on the forehead.

“You alright, honey?” you asked, trying to squat down next to the tub, but ending up on your knees thanks to the baby.

She hummed in affirmation, keeping her eyes closed. “Thank you so much for this, baby,” she mumbled quietly.

“Anytime, love.” You watched her for a few more minutes, then set the stack of warm clothes on the bathroom counter. “There’s a warm towel and some PJs here for you,” you said, struggling to get to your feet.

“You good?” Emily chuckled, watching you out of the corner of her eye.

“Yes.” When you finally managed to make it to your feet, you had beads of sweat on your forehead. It wasn’t even that your belly was that heavy yet, it was that it threw off your center of gravity and made moving from one position to another awkward. “Get dried off when you're ready,” you told her. “I’ll get dinner on the table.”

You were proud of the spread when you stood and surveyed it. Shawarma chicken straight from the oven, spiced and heavenly-smelling. Warm pita bread and a swirl of smooth, creamy hummus with just a bit of paprika and olive oil on top. A lovely, vibrant fattoush, sliced cucumbers, juicy tomatoes. A little plate of stuffed dates, popping with green and pink from the pistachios and rose petals.

Emily walked in, hair wet around her shoulders, blotching her sweatshirt. You pulled her chair out for her but, before she sat down, she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you in for a hug. She smelled like lavender and fresh laundry, and you breathed her in, holding her close.

You could tell by the way she lingered there, by the way she breathed easier with her body pressed against yours, that Emily would need a lot of touch tonight. Not just in a sexual way, though Emily’s sex drive was always through the roof on her period. You could tell that tonight, Emily would let you hold her, that she’d curl herself around you tightly, possessively, as if to cover the most that she possibly could of your surface area.

In other words, she needed comfort. And she didn't get it from anyone else, not really. It had taken her a long time to even ask for it from you, to seek it out. So when she did, you were always more than happy to oblige. More than happy to hold clingy, sweet, needy Emily for as long as she needed.

She whined a bit when you pulled away, and you kissed her cheek, playing with her fingers.

“You’ve got to eat something, love. Then I promise I will not let you go for the rest of the night.”

She sat obediently, squeezing your hand, and piled her plate with all the things you’d made, eyes rolling back in her head when she swiped a finger through the hummus and put it in her mouth.

“I don’t know how you do it,” she gushed. “I swear your hummus tastes just like my friend Zainab’s mom’s from when I lived in Oman.”

“It’s the specialty spices,” you shrugged, taking a bite of pita with shawarma and veggies.

“No, I think it’s the special person making it,” Emily cheesed, beaming at you.

You smiled and rolled your eyes playfully. “Oh, you’re getting it tonight.”

“I certainly hope so.”

When your plates were cleared and the leftovers tucked safely into the fridge, you led Emily to the bedroom, pulling back the covers for her, tucking her in.

“You know these are just gonna get untucked, right?” she asked, biting her lip.

“Shh,” you scolded. “Let me take care of you.”

You crawled into bed next to Emily, drawing her body into yours, holding her gently as you pressed your lips to hers. She melted into the kiss, already breathless.

You brushed her hair out of her face, placing your hand gently on her lower stomach. “How are your cramps?” you asked. “You want any medicine or anything?”

“The only medicine I need is you,” she said, guiding your hand lower.

You chuckled. “Alright, Romeo. Calm down.” You lowered your face to her neck, planting kisses all across her shoulder and collarbone. “I told you I’d take care of you, and I will.”

Emily held your face gently in her hands, looking deep into your eyes. “Why are you so good to me?” she whispered.

You pecked her on the lips. “Because I love you. And you deserve good things.”

And with that, you started your long, slow journey across the topography of Emily’s body, ready and willing to give her every good thing you possibly could.

[zarvasace]

I've been going through your ao3 bc I've n been having a hankering for Four/ colors content

Hyrule's fic where he has the loftwing tattoo is ouch in the good ways. Boy had it ROUGH and if I found out that happened to my bestie I would also puke so I get you, Sky.

And the one where Red and Vio grow up in a cult and Red is the perfect little cult angel so they'll be allowed to LEAVE and they haven't seen the sun for 16 years like my heart. Those poor boys. They just want to see their brothers and Red was too young to even remember them ;-;

I picture that Red and Vio found a nice house with a big garden and they spend all day relaxing in the sun and hanging out and nothing else happens to them and they're happy and also Red helps Zelda and the knights find and put a stop to the cult cause Red has alllll the information about them now.

Well I certainly have my fair share of Four and FS boys content. XD I've actually been meaning to add on a bit to the cult one, so here's a fun little epilogue! ~1k words, some CWs for implied religious trauma, some cursing, and moderate angst.

(said cult-themed fic is here! It's a whump fill and imo one of the more intense ones so.)

---

Green wipes his hands off on a towel and heads to the doorway to poke his head into the living room. “Hey, Vio.”

“Sorry!” Vio says, startling. The book in his hands jumps as he shuts it too fast. He looks up at Green, then blinks and settles. “Sorry,” he says again, this time apologizing for apologizing. 

Green takes a second to bite his tongue—he harbors an eternal, ice-cold hatred for the people who'd somehow managed to get it into Vio’s head that reading was something to apologize for—then shrugs in what he hopes is a nonchalant way. “I just wanted to ask if you had a preference between tomato sauce or cheese sauce for dinner. Blue and Red should be back soon.”

Vio slowly reopens his book to the page he'd been reading. “Um, I think Red likes cheese better.”

“Okay, well, what about you?” 

“I don't really have a preference.”

“Cheese, then,” Green says, just as the door to their little house swings open. 

Green’s little question had startled Vio, but Red's loud, enthusiastic greeting very much does not. 

“Viooooo! Guess what I have!” Red bounces in, wearing something a lot like what he'd worn that first day. It's red and yellow and reminds Green of festival robes. The thin fabric accentuates the way he dances in and presents a set of ominous-looking black iron keys to Vio in both hands. 

Those keys mean absolutely nothing to Green, but Vio raises his eyebrows. “You really did it, then.”

“Did you doubt me?” Red smiles. 

“Can we melt those down?” 

“Oh, I definitely plan on it.” 

Blue follows Red into the house, closing the door behind them both. He wears Vio’s old grayed cloak with the heavy leather mantle, though now there’s a splatter of blood across the side. Where Red is clearly very pleased with what they've done, Green can see Blue’s anger simmering beneath the surface. 

In a flailing of angry movement, Blue rips off the hood and tears the mantle off his shoulders. He bundles it all up and dropkicks the thing into the wall with a shout. 

“Woah, Blue,” Green says, stepping in but not touching him yet. “You okay?” 

“I'm fine!” Blue snaps. He throws his hands into the air. “I’m just dandy! I'm totally not traumatized at all! And I bet you aren't either!” He gestures to Red and Vio, who watch him warily. “We're all really well-adjusted members of society! Nobody treated me like shit while they thought I was you! Nobody at all!”

Green drops his towel and grabs Blue’s arms to stop him from throwing a punch at the wall. He's done it before. “Calm down!”

“Why should I?” Blue keeps shouting, but Green can see the shine in his eyes. “They kept saying, oh, they're good people, just misled, just take care of some of the leaders and everyone will be fine, but you know who gave a damn about me? About Vio? When we staged that—that—”

“Blue!” Green shakes him, hoping to snap him out of it, but all he does is shake the tears out. 

Blue is more prone to punching out his feelings than crying about them. The tears that fall down his face are out of the ordinary for him. He looks at Green like he did every time he became despondent: like he hopes desperately that Green can fix the world. His rage is quickly giving way to full-out sobbing, and it's a bit startling. This hasn't happened in years. 

Green has gotten good at dealing with Blue’s moods, but Vio and Red very much have not. Red has moved to stand half in front of Vio, as if to protect him, and Vio’s eyes have gone calculating. Then Red leans back to whisper something, never taking his eyes off of Blue and Green, and Vio responds, too quietly to hear. 

Blue starts to push away from Green, red in the face, but Vio is right there, hands raised as if he doesn't know what to do with them. 

“Um,” Vio says, “I'm sorry.”

“No, I'm sorry!” Blue interrupts, his voice breaking. “I didn't mean to—to get mad—and we didn't find you—and I had no idea—” 

Red taps Vio on the shoulder and whispers loudly. “Ask if he wants a hug.”

A short, wet laugh interrupts Blue’s tears, and he shakes his head as if to say it isn't necessary. 

Vio’s face goes tight in a wince, and Green starts to move to interrupt, but then Vio raises his arms and wraps them around Blue, and Blue’s sobs go quiet almost instantly. After a few seconds, they readjust so Blue can hold Vio back. Vio definitely isn't crying, but he does hide his face behind his bangs and Blue’s neck. 

Red looks like he's about to cry, too, so Green nudges him. 

“Want to help me make some sauce for pasta?” 

“Really?” Red says, looking up. “Yeah. I do.”

“Come on.” 

Red drops the keys he holds on top of Vio’s discarded cloak, then follows Green into the kitchen. He's a little subdued, but still enthusiastic. By the time Red burns his half of the sauce (surprising no one), Blue and Vio have shifted to speaking quietly on the old couch. 

It's going to be a long road of healing, even considering how far the four of them have come so far. But now they know that the cult isn't going to come after Red and Vio, or kidnap anyone else, for that matter, since they got the princess and knights involved. But Vio has begun to keep his books in plain sight, and Red curses a little more every day. Red goes outside into the sun most days, and drags Vio with him every so often. They moved to a nice little house, and visit their father at least once a week. Blue has been happy, and so has Green. 

It's a long road, yes, and doubtlessly it's an uphill one. But they're on it together. 

[youcouldmakealife]

LBTE: Jared (149-150)

In which Jared is the last to find out about his sister's new boyfriend, and he takes it just as calmly as you'd expect.

If you would like to follow along the series page is here.

“Um,” Jared says, when he opens the front door of their apartment to find Bryce beaming right at him.

Like, right at him. Like if Jared had swung open the door without paying attention he might have smacked Bryce right in his beautiful face.

Literally ran to the door like a puppy hearing its human come home.

“I’m allowed to train again!” Bryce says.

“Like,” Jared says. “Very carefully?”

“Very carefully,” Bryce confirms, and then, as if he’s trying to completely undermine Jared’s confidence that he’ll take that advice seriously, bolts into the living room at high speed.

A puppy with the zoomies.

Jared catches “—sorry, had to tell Jared—“, which he thinks means Bryce literally dropped everything to tell him, everything presumably being a call with Elaine. Though it could be someone else, Jared supposes. Theoretically.

“—love you too, mom,” Bryce says, then reappears so quickly Jared thinks he bolted right back.

Zoom zoom. (To no one’s surprise, he did — albeit with ‘one sec I think Jared’s home’ first. Elaine didn’t mind)

“Come on!” Bryce says, and that’s how Jared caps off an entire day at the gym by going to another, closer gym, and trying not to helicopter husband, partly because they’re in public, and partly because Bryce might bite his head off if he gets between him and the equipment after a long absence.

Relationship with Jared over, now gym equipment is Bryce’s best friend.

Jared says nothing, even when a piece of penne lands on the carpet. Bryce is too happy about all the complaining he’s doing to deflate him. And it’s not like Jared’s worried Bryce is going to go hungry.

He does, however, make Bryce clean the pasta up, because if he didn’t he’s pretty sure Bryce would literally not even notice it was there. He has to do it again himself after Bryce does a half-assed job and then puts his nose right in his phone. Thank fuck it wasn’t a tomato based sauce or their carpet would be toast. Why do they even have a carpet? They’re clearly not responsible enough for one.

Seriously, carpet should have disqualified the place.

“Uh, J?” Bryce says. “You might want to check twitter?”

“Signing?” Jared asks on his way back from the kitchen. It’s getting around that time where some of the stragglers realise a contract-less season is imminent and take whatever offers are still available. That or teams realise they’re missing a key piece of the picture and start looking into what’s available and affordable. “Trade?”

“Um,” Bryce says, his whole body a wince, which is — concerning. “Just look?”

No fucking way Bryce is telling him, you can’t make him.

“Did they trade Gabe?” Jared asks.

They can’t trade Gabe. Gabe’s franchise, one of only two players from that Cup season still on the Canucks. He’s a fan favourite, and a sizeable contingent of their younger fans don’t remember a team without him. It’s pretty much an open secret he wants to spend his entire career in Vancouver, and that’s mutual. Also Stephen would fight management. Possibly literally.

Also Jared would be sad, so clearly it’s not allowed.

It has to be someone on the team who means more to Jared than they do to Bryce, considering it’s something Bryce thinks Jared needs to see for himself, which leaves Gabe and —

Literally it’s just Gabe.

Also Stephen, but Jared’s pretty sure Brian can’t trade him.

“Nobody’s traded!” Bryce says. “Just. You need to see it? Instead of me telling you about it?”

Not for a million dollars will Bryce tell him.

If people on the internet are talking about how hot they think Jared’s dad is again, he swears to god —

One of my favourite subplots that doesn’t make the main narrative — Don the DILF.

“Erin’s trending again,” Bryce says.

Jared’s sister trending on twitter is really not something that Jared expected to happen twice. Like, even in a big Canadian market, that’s getting slightly absurd for a the sister of a middle-six forward.

Imagine how she feels. (She again thinks it’s funny)

Bryce gently kicks him in the shin. “You might want to look it up.”

“No thanks,” Jared says.

Bryce kicks him again. “Seriously, though.”

“If I do will you stop kicking me?” Jared asks.

“Yeah,” Bryce says.

Please look this up out of your own volition so you won’t shoot Bryce Marcus, Messenger.

“J,” Bryce says. “He’s clearly not going to pick up.”

Jared hits ‘end’ and then ‘call’ for the fourth time.

Surely he will pick up the fourth time you call to yell at him.

“Maybe just leave a message?” Bryce suggests weakly.

“Are you fucking my sister?” Jared asks when the operator’s finished telling him the number he has dialled is currently unavailable, because Julius couldn’t even be bothered to set his voicemail message after literal years in Canada. “And pick up your fucking phone, Halla, I swear to god.”

Bryce regrets his suggestion.

“What,” he says.

“He’s probably not going to want to call you back?” Bryce says. “If you sound like that?”

“Nobody cares what Julius wants!” Jared says.

“Um,” Bryce says. “Are you — okay?”

Bryce increasingly realising Jared was completely blindsided by this and mentally rewinding to every time he thought Jared was just ignoring the relationship out of pettiness.

“You knew about this,” Jared says with dawning realisation.

Bryce looks shifty.

“You knew,” Jared says. “And you let me find out from twitter.”

“I didn’t know know,” Bryce says.

They have not been formally told, but nobody has been hiding this from them. See: several parts ago, when Erin was visiting a friend in Edmonton (nobody told Jared it was a university friend, as he stated, Jared just assumed it must be because he knows Erin didn’t keep in touch with anyone from high school or earlier. Neither Matheson sibling is a big friend maker)

“Jared,” Bryce says, then, from the other side of a slammed door, “Hey, that’s my room!”

Jared is sulking, so by all rights the sulking room now belongs to him.

He’d ask if the picture was misinterpreted, like it was with Bryce, but there really aren’t that many interpretations for a kiss. Sure, some cultures greet one another with kisses, but as far as Jared is aware, the Finns are not one of them, and neither are the Mathesons.

Ah yes, the famed Matheson culture. Signs of affection are ribbing, mockery, and snide.

And even if a kiss on the mouth was a Finnish greeting, it’d be one Julius would pointedly not do. Julius doesn’t like participating in things.

This is so accurate but hilarious from Jared because it’s one of the reasons they get along so well.

He’s not your liney anymore. Erin replies. P sure both your current lineys are already taken.

Also he’s literally on a rival team now? That’s like the anti-liney.

Ene-liney.

So you’re not denying it. Jared texts. He originally ended the text an exclamation mark, but that looked too dramatic. He’s fine. He’s chill.

So you’re not denying it!

Is this a thing? Jared writes, after deleting the two extra question marks that somehow popped up.

Is this a thing???

How long has this been a thing? Jared asks.

Officially? Like two weeks.

Before this there was some hanging out. But the euphemism-y kind of hanging out. And some texting while Julius was away. But Julius came back from Finland early, even before it was ‘officially’, which makes it a full-on Thing.

Unofficially? Jared asks.

Idk. You know how it is, Erin replies.

Jared does not know how it is. He can’t even begin to guess what she’s referring to, he has so little awareness of how it is. He met Bryce and that was it for him. Well. Give or take a few weeks and a minor grudge.

Oh we’re calling it a minor grudge now?

Wait no you don’t you were engaged at my age hahaha

Erin obviously knows Jared was engaged at nineteen, and gave him shit for it at the time (her ‘I can’t believe you’re going to be a child bride’ is one of my favourite lines in the entire series) but now that she’s nineteen herself?

His phone lights up with another text, which is just hahahahahaha and crying laughing emojis.

She’s dying what were they THINKING.

“Can I come in?” Bryce asks meekly.

“Fine,” Jared says, since it’s not like he’s talking to Erin anymore. Though he doesn’t know why Bryce would want to. This is the sulking room, and Bryce doesn’t seem sulky about this at all.

Only Big Sulky Babies allowed.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you?” Bryce says, perching on the bed beside Jared as Jared tries to forcibly wipe his brain clean. “I just — kind of thought it was something we both knew but we were like, pretending we didn’t know so you could ignore it forever.”

Look at Bryce supportively pretend something doesn’t exist because he fears for Jared’s sanity.

“Don and I are cool now,” Bryce says. “Sort of. Mostly. He hasn’t insulted me to my face in like – a while. Huh. That’s a good sign.”

Don did mean it about Bryce being a member of the family after he married Jared. You don’t insult family. Mock? Sure. Tease? Absolutely. But insult? Absolutely not.

“Why didn’t someone actually say ‘hey Jared, you do know this is a thing, right?’” Jared asks. His immediate family and Julius all know that Jared can be, well —

Someone should have made sure he was aware, is the point.

“I honestly think Erin just wanted to see how long it’d take you to figure it out if no one actually said ‘hey Jared, Erin and Julius are dating’,” Bryce says. “And apparently the answer was a picture on twitter?”

Everyone assumed Jared already knew and was pointedly ignoring it. Except Erin. She knew that Jared would yell at her or Julius when he knew, and therefore he was still in the dark.

Bryce looks shifty again. “Ash told me that Erin said that?”

Which means Ash knows, obviously. And that Ash and Bryce have discussed this. So Chaz must know. And Maia. Not that babies know things, just —

Don’t worry, Jared, I promise Maia didn’t know before you.

Fucking Oilers fans found out about this before Jared did. Flames fans did.

He doesn’t know why, but the fact Flames fans knew this before Jared did makes this so much worse than if it was just Oilers fans.

This is simultaneously a weird thing to get stuck on, yet also totally understandable. Oilers fans are Julius fans. Flames fans are Julius haters. But also may remember Erin from Bryce drama. Also fuck Flames fans, all Jared’s homies hate Flames fans.

Jared’s phone buzzes from where he tossed it after the last emoji round. He bets it’s more hahahahas. Possibly some skulls. Erin likes to die laughing.

She can’t hahaha any longer, she’s already dead from laughing.

150. Affront

Jared thinks people are supposed to be afraid of death. He’s pretty sure that’s common, reasonable. When threatened with death, people should feel fear. But what is Julius Halla doing right now? He’s laughing. At Jared.

He basically lived with you, Jared, he knows just how little true bite there is in you.

“Stop laughing,” Jared hisses. “You traitor.”

“Who am I a traitor to,” Julius says. He sounds vaguely curious, like someone who’s been accused of something ludicrous, and is interested to see how you came to that conclusion. Which is rich, for a traitor.

But who is he a traitor TO, Jared?

“Me!” Jared says. “And friendship! And lineys! And — there’s a code!”

I do enjoy Jared continually using Julius being his liney as a reason when they have now been divisional rivals longer than they were ever linemates.

“You think it’s the definition of toxic masculinity,” Julius says. “And that it frequently treats women as objects and prizes to be won, and also acts like showing affection towards your friends is gay. And you’re gay, and you think showing affection is disgusting, so obviously there is no connection.”

He listens <3

“She’s like, ten!” Jared says. “She’s way too young for you.”

Julius is very quiet. “How much older than you is—“

There’s about a two and a half year age difference between Erin and Julius. Bryce and Jared’s is just shy of four years. As Julius well knows, the bastard.

“Eating my food and dating my sister,” Jared says. “Who is a child.”

“How old were you when you got engaged?” Julius asks.

Jared can only an inarticulate sound of rage in answer, because Julius knows exactly how old he was when he got engaged.

The answer is ‘exactly as old as Erin is now’. As Julius is well aware, the BASTARD. Also, a missing word, my bad.

“Wait,” Jared says, suddenly horrified. More horrified. “You’re not engaged, are you?”

“No!” Julius says, sounding equally horrified.

This question isn’t the reason Julius doesn’t want to get married, but it certainly did not help.

“How did this even happen,” Jared moans. “Wait. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know anything. Why didn’t you tell me.”

This feels like a trick question.

“I wanted to wait to tell you in person,” Julius says. “Because I was concerned you’d be, well. You know.”

People keep telling Jared he knows things that he does not know.

“I don’t know,” he says.

“Hysterical,” Julius says.

“I am not hysterical!” Jared says.

This might be more believable if Jared hadn’t shrieked that last bit.

The fact Bryce bursts out laughing in the living room contradicts that statement, but Julius can’t hear him. And maybe it’s coincidental laughter. Maybe Bryce is watching something funny. Because Jared is not hysterical.

“Wait, Erin didn’t think I’d be hysterical?” Jared says.

Look, Jared may deny he’s hysterical, but also — why didn’t Erin think he’d be hysterical? Even if he isn’t. Because he is not. But also — really?

For all of Erin’s many…many…many faults, an inability to predict Jared’s behaviour is unfortunately not one of them. She used her predictive ability for blackmail purposes way too much when they were younger, always caught him in the act when he was breaking the few house rules he ever broke then threatened to snitch if Jared didn’t do shit for her. He made her so many grilled cheese sandwiches. To this day he associates grilled cheese with smug smiles and extortion.

Admission of hysteria. Also Jared makes an excellent grilled cheese sandwich. Worth surveillance for blackmail purposes for sure.

“But I was in Finland at the beginning of summer,” Julius says. “And then Bryce injured his shoulder, and you went to Vancouver, and there was no good time. And then twitter.”

Julius, if asked, would say they were a thing months earlier than Erin would. But they had not yet defined the relationship.

“She’s fine,” Julius says. “She thinks it’s funny.”

He sounds faintly scandalised. Which is understandable, because it’s not funny.

“Did you tell her it’s not funny,” Jared says.

“I did,” Julius says. “She says she gets to decide if it’s funny or not.”

“But it’s not funny,” Jared says.

“I know,” Julius says.

Counterpoint from Erin: it’s fucking hilarious, you’re both just boring.

“Don’t like —“ Jared says, then pauses, because there are a lot of different demands warring in him right now. “That’s my sister, Halla.”

“I know,” Julius says. “Would it help if I told you I have…strong…feelings—“

“Gross,” Jared says. “Stop talking.”

“Okay,” Julius says, sounding greatly relieved.

I love their friendship. Every time feelings are involved they both react like cats getting sprayed with water.

“No,” Jared says. “Obviously it is. Did you know that they were together?”

There’s a silence.

“Mom?” Jared says.

“…did you not?” his mom asks. “Jared!”

NOBODY was hiding this from Jared. Nobody.

“Erin’s spent more time in Edmonton than Calgary since her semester ended,” mom says.

“She has a friend there,” Jared says, then, “Oh.”

Yes.

There's only one direct reference to Erin and Julius’ relationship before Jared finds out in the series, because I had to ride a careful line there, as Jared hadn’t noticed anything, so his POV wouldn’t really reflect the information he wasn’t paying attention to.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jared demands. ‘Friend’ is not telling him. ‘Friend’ is a euphemism you use when the other person already knows.

“I thought you knew!” his mom says. “And were just immaturely pretending that as long as you didn’t acknowledge it then it wasn’t actually happening!”

Jared thinks it might be a concerning sign that the two people who know him best both assume he thinks that if he pretends something hard enough, it won’t happen.

Yes that might indicate something about you, Jared.

“Yes!” Jared says. “Why aren’t you mad about this? Your daughter’s dating a hockey player. A hockey player. And you’re letting her?”

“You’re a hockey player, Jared,” his mom says. “As is your husband. And literally all of your friends.”

This isn’t exactly Grace’s mom upon finding out she was dating Raf.

“That’s just people in general, sweetie,” his mom says. “And we know Julius is a nice young man.”

“He is not,” Jared says. Julius is many things, but he is not nice.

“You know what I mean by nice, Jared,” his mom says.

He’s not a nice boy, but he is a good one. Also he speaks Matheson quite fluently.

“You can’t just assume that I like him.”

“Jared,” his mom says. “You love that boy. You brought him home for Christmas.”

“Out of the kindness of my heart,” Jared says.

“You brought home someone you don’t like for Christmas out of the kindness of your heart,” his mom says. “And then you invited him to your wedding. As one of the handful of guests who wasn’t immediately related to you or Bryce. Out of the kindness of your heart.”

Jared, we all know there is not even close to that much kindness in your heart.

“Obviously you like him, or he wouldn’t be one of your best friends,” his mom says. “And since you’re choosy about who you’re friends with, that means a lot. You have extremely good taste in friends, when you actually bother to make them.”

Jared picks at the hem of his shorts.

Jared thinks it’s quite rude for his mom to use facts and reason against him when he is intent on being unreasonable.

“Gross, love,” Jared says.

“I won’t tell Erin you love her, I promise,” his mom says.

“Good,” Jared says. “Ew.”

How dare anyone say he loves his (demon) sister.

“Jared,” his mom says. “Are you making this all about you?”

“No,” Jared says.

“Jared,” his mom says.

“Well it’s a little bit about me, isn’t it!” Jared says. “He’s my friend. And liney.”

“Former liney,” his mom says. Everyone’s so fixated on that part. Liney status can last past being teammates. Look at Jared and Chaz: linemates for life. Even though Bryce subsequently stole Chaz a little, despite the fact they played on completely different lines on the Flames. Not that it’s stealing. Couples share.

Jared can share. Look at how good Jared is at sharing. He only holds Bryce befriending Chaz against him a little, years down the line. That’s sharing.

Eventually Julius is going to get exposed to Erin’s sparkling personality.

He’s had some exposure therapy, rooming with Jared.

Jared would mention that long-distance relationships are highly prone to failure, but he’s pretty sure mom would bring up how much of his relationship with Bryce involved long-distance, and Jared is frankly sick of people reminding him of his own extremely successful relationship, and not letting him be hypocritical.

What bullshit.

He hates arguing with his mom. It’s like arguing with himself, except worse, because at least when he argues with himself, he always technically wins.

The best kind of argument.

“You remind me so much of your dad right now,” mom says.

“Mom!” Jared says.

“A little Don in the making,” his mom says. “He’d be so proud.”

Jared tries to tell her to take it back, but all he can manage is an inarticulate sound of rage. Again.

The cruelest thing you could say to him.

“I got Thai from that place on Burrard you really like,” Bryce says, then, all in a rush, “Sorry for assuming you knew about Julius and Erin and were just pretending you didn’t instead of like, actually not knowing. If I knew you actually didn’t know I would have told you. Or made Erin tell you because it wouldn’t be my place to tell you or. Are you mad at me?”

Sala Thai, for anyone curious. Also, poor Bryce. He really did think Jared knew.

“Did you get me soup to shut me up?” Jared asks.

“I got you it because it’s your favourite?” Bryce says, looking both hurt and confused.

Poor, poor Bryce.

“—and doesn’t he realise what Erin’s like?” Jared says. “Because he is going to be unpleasantly surprised when he gets to know her a little better.”

“Uh,” Bryce says. “I think he’s had a pretty good preview of what Erin’s like?”

BRYCE, NO. I mean, you are 100% correct, but NO.

“We are nothing alike,” Jared says.

“Erin made the exact same face when I said that,” Bryce says. “Like. That’s almost creepy.”

“You’ve said this to her?” Jared says.

“Yeah, because you’re both—“ Bryce says, then, “Ow! She did that too!”

Why do Mathesons keep smacking Bryce’s arm when he tells them the truth?

“We’re nothing alike,” Jared mutters.

Bryce says nothing, but he’s got this look on his face like ‘I’m humouring you right now by not arguing, but you know and I know that you’re full of shit’.

“Stop — looking at me with that face,” Jared says.

Bryce huffs out a laugh. “Erin said—“

Jared can’t hear him.

“Jared,” Bryce says, muffled. “Jared, I know you can hear me.”

Jared cannot.

Erin wasn’t immature enough to put her hands over her ears though, that one’s all Jared.

“Take it back,” Jared says.

“No,” Bryce says. “I’m not pretending something isn’t true just because you don’t like it, that’s ridiculous.”

Jared picks up his noodles.

“I got you soup,” Bryce says sadly as Jared stomps right back to the sulking room, this time with dinner.

Poor, poor Bryce.

[puckrph]

SHIT MY FRIENDS HAVE SAID PART 5

feel free to change pronouns, etc.

“i’m serving only the coldest, stalest opinions in this chilis tonight.” “this man is girlbossing WAY too close to the sun right now, which is bad, because he’s a vampire.” “he looks like if they peeled the grinch.” “i wish desolation row gerard way had me by the throat for real” “absolutely insane in shows and movies when people don’t have their window screens down. you’re just raw dogging life like that?” “it’s not sadistic if your players can take it.” “i’m doing this all in the service of the christian god, so it’s fine.” “wine-horny is what the fuck or die trope is about.” “it’s hot gay serial killer vampire summer” “[in a yoda voice] MMM. CUNT, THEY ARE SERVING.” “boytoy, enable kill mode.” “your father eats tomatoes like a beast of a man.” “you fool. my muppet-like behavior has blinded you to my competency.” “you people need to calm down.” “you know it’s a good joke when i start whimpering like a hurt dog.” “i’m insulted to my core. are you questioning my patriotism? my dedication to this country? my belief that the american dream is witnessing two f-150’s making passionate love on 690? i’ll have your badge and your head, [NAME].” “your influence is both vast and perplexing.” “putting your blood through a brita filter is discount dialysis.” “people is like sauce: more is better.” “hell would be more fun than this, i think.” “hard to believe the same studio made two games where you get to run around, steal vehicles, and be an asshole, if you want.” “pda stands for people doing atheism.” “first of all, through the power of keanu reeves all things are possible, so jot that down.” “i don’t feel like his name should be david. i feel like it should be… giancarlo.” “you aren’t laughing or loving this, and soon you won’t be living either!” “did i ever tell you about the dream i had where baljeet from phineas and ferb got lightning powers and fought in the clone wars.” “everyone is bullying so much about cooking meat that i simply must become vegan.” “i’m gonna deep clean you out of my life.” “the only difference between a twink and a frat boy is a limp wrist.” “he’s right, of course, i am going to do that. but still.” “what is a roommate if not blorbo from your house?” “i just realized that i’m going to medieval times for the first time on the destiel putin election anniversary. none of those words are in the king james bible. how am i going to cope.” “body dysmorphia? yes, but you can hang dong like nobody’s business.” “he can’t do anything wrong, he’s too cute.” “so many people eat an orange normally. isn’t it better, really, to do it like a weirdo?” “i’m probably in the top 98th percentile of pez dispenser information knowers by the way. most don’t know that about me.” “there is always further to fall from god’s grace.” “jesus is rizzin’?? amogus???” “you think i could gauge the emotions or feeling of any human beings in high school?” “sorry, the coffee never actually kicked in so i’m stupid now.” “the bar for men is so low. just be fun, slay, and be a little fruity!” “i feel like JC probably has some hilarious lines in the quran.” “side note: does anyone else initially read FMA as ‘fuck my alchemist.’” “astigmatism is when you have an eye issue and stigmata is when you have the wounds of christ, right? because i was at the eye doctor and he said ‘looks like we need to correct a stigmata in your eye’ and i was like come again?” “surely the micro plastics and lead cancel each other out, you’ll be fine.” “schrodinger’s sports call: the call exists in a quantum state of correct and bullshit until i figure out how it affects my guys.” “oh, tom waits makes some good songs. he just sounds like a gravel beach got a wish to become a real boy.”

[shadow-bringer-ao3]

tracked u down bc i can't just. leave this comment in the open on ao3. sweetie. that's not how tomatoes work. /o\ you're thinking of apples or maybe persimmons. the whole core of a tomato would be 75% of the size of the fruit. that's not a scrap. the outer layer is not going to be that much softer than the core. and if it's a hard woody core from being heat-stressed or certain varieties - no one can eat that core. it's a piece of wood. he'd leave a stem behind - and again, nobody eats the green stem.

i could be wrong because there are hundreds of varieties of tomatoes but still if he *is* eating a tomato that size ratio? for certain that boy has an entire front shirt covered in tomato juice - i dont care how good of a ninja he is, unless it's some kind of uchiha magic. sasuke could murder someone and have less red juice on him. no one eats the large 'steak' tomatoes or the sauce-making ones whole in their hands. they slice them first. on a plate or a slab or a board. usually some oil or dressing on it, or even a pinch of salt. and they eat the core. the cherry varieties are eaten whole, like popcorn, and they do not have large cores.

and slices imply a very, very sharp knife. nobody knows how ninja wire works but even if that does - even if a jutsu does - mikoto would slice it like normal with an actual kitchen knife. if sasuke shows up with sliced tomatoes itachi will be looking for the blade. unless of course the uchiha have a tomato-slicing jutsu.

your best bet for what you want to accomplish is a bunch of cherry tomatoes and leaving their branching stems. i'm sorry about losing your apple metaphor but tomatoes are simply not apples.

i know this is a typo but there's a reason why i can't pass this over. none of your commenters is saying anything. and there's a percentage of them who *don't* get any fresh fruit _who'll believe you_. with the rates of poverty worldwide that's not a reach. are you kids eating your vegetables

Okay, so, first of all: it's absolutely wild you tracked me down on tumblr over a tomato. Did I ever even mention having a tumblr? Insane.

Second of all: I regularly eat tomatoes like apples. Not the big steak tomatoes (although if I could get them where I live I would probably eat them too), just normal globe tomatoes. They are delicious. I do not not need to augment them with anything. Since Sasuke's favorite food is known to be tomatoes, I figured that'd be a fun little quirk to add.

Third of all: yes, I probably could have worded it better but it was a crack fic i wrote in like an hour. By 'tough inner core' (or whatever my exact wordage was), I meant the tough, kind of weirdly stringy columella (and placenta, maybe), which is my least favorite part of a tomato because of it's difference in texture. Having eaten a tomato out of my hand (without making a mess) in exactly this way, i know from personal experience that what's left behind very much resembles what's left behind when someone else eats an apple.

I used the apple metaphor for the tomato because it was an apt way to describe it, it was funny, and it was a way to put a piece of myself into the story without making it terribly, horribly obvious. Also i just don't really like cherry tomatos. Too sweet.

[intonightcity]

"Don't know why we're keeping him like this. Especially when you went down there showing your face." Does she really think nobody is gonna find out? He's fucking famous. Besides if he saw her face whose to say this won't come back on him. Even if she found him on a deep web site, he chose to keep his identity anonymous. Continuing to wear a mask even in the presence of his cohort there's nothing to see here. Nothing to remember. Yet this is more high profile than he expected. The oddest part is she didn't bat an eye about his stipulations.

She might be listening to him but in reality her focus is on cooking. Homemade dough. Homemade sauce. All fresh vegetable ingredients. A multitude of colors in green and yellow peppers, bright red tomatoes and scallions chopped expertly now with a large kitchen knife. The sharp steel sliced down atop her cutting board. Crunching against its surface created a distinct sound she quite enjoyed. That enjoyment is not fully taking over even with how excited she is to cook this dinner. Interruptions always bring down her mood.

Tilting her head towards him she huffed slowly, showing signs of irritation for once today. "I should be far angrier than I am," the blonde spoke calmly, sighing as she did so. Almost as if their entire situation is not an entire abduction in play. Very much like a Hollywood movie. Those same movies she loves oh so much. Her life was always meant to be in lights. She hoped. She prayed. How she wanted to expand horizons and reach up to those starry skies. It never really went anywhere. None of them ever do. Try and try. Put hearts in everything. Always denied. Always declined. Auditions fail and aspiring starlets fade into stardust. They sink into pits of despair colored with thoughts of harm and ending all their dreams. Luckily she avoided such fates that dreams make. The sad silent stars who lost their way long before their light dimmed. Accidental overdoses. Life taken by conscious choice. No. No, she found something better. She knows it will get better because she found someone who loves what she loves. Real stars. True cinema magic.

"Hey," he cut into her daydreams. They always do. "Are you listening?"

She turned, knife still clutched tightly, fingers bending against the black wooden handle. "I'm making homemade lasagna." Her answer is not what he expected of course. What else did he want to hear? "It's his favorite you know."

"Yeah. Sure it is." With a scoff, he held up his hands. Still wearing gloves. Still caked in dirt and evidence. "Look. I'm gonna go for right now. I gotta get shit done. Cleared. This isn't exactly the best place to hide him you know."

"It's the perfect place." A little laugh comes with her argument. "Don't you read anything? Surely you know something about Landon. Obviously not as much as I do since we have a special connection. But this is Rodeo Drive. He loves Rodeo Drive. He talks about it all the time." Waving her butcher knife around spelled it out with emphasis. "It's a thing in his docs you know. Even the ones not about films. I think the only one he doesn't mention it in is the Lost Tribe one. About the cannibals in Costa Rica." She watched them as she spoke. Waiting for a confirmation. As if they saw it or not. Apparently they didn't because he just stared with green eyes behind a mask. They're not good eyes. They're not soulful brown. Chestnut galaxies swirled in caramel. Nobody has eyes like Landon Wynter. "He caught Yellow Fever filming that. I was so worried. Thankfully he's stronger than that." Turning back to her chopping board, she sighed. "Do what you must but remember. Next time you rough house with him I won't be so nice."

"Nobody is gonna willingly go with someone. He's lucky he got knocked out when he did. But go do your weird dinner. I'm sure he'll be into it." It was snide and dismissive. As long as this goes according to plan it'll be a piece of cake.

She chose to watch him leave. Her expression refused to carry any ounce of sparkle when speaking of Landon's work. Now it was replaced with a cool annoyance, blue eyes skimming across the kitchen until they were gone. "…be my, be my baby," she sang softly, stabbing the knife down into the cutting board with force. "Be my only baby…" @txnnesseehoney // prev

[midnightbabylon]

Part Of Me

-Part 3-

summary: Bucky finds out you secretly gave birth to his son and he didn’t know it for three years. But what does his fiancée have to do with it? Is Bucky really the villain in the story?

pairing: Bucky x fem!reader

word count: 1492

warnings: language

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Halloween was the worst holiday of the year, at least for you. Ever since you were a kid, you’ve wanted October 31 to go around as fast as it could. You hated the typical traditions like carving pumpkins or even dressing up. Since you were a mother, your mind has changed 180 degrees. James was your whole world, and you would do anything for him to be happy. Your kid came first and nobody else. As hard as life as a mother could be, he was the light at the end of the tunnel. His favorite holiday is Halloween, so you bought decorations, candy and pumpkins. The day before, you and James were decorating the house and inviting Sam, Steve, Wanda, Nat and the rest of the Avengers to dinner. James wanted everything to be Halloween themed so there was eyeball punch (Gummy bears) ,brain measurements (Minced meat in tomato sauce on spaghetti), severed fingers (sausages with ketchup and almonds as fingernails )and alien grits (green jello). After dinner, you all sat outside in the garden carving your pumpkins. James was happier than ever before. He was brambling with your best friends and putting each and every one of the pumpkins on the porch. As the evening ended so slowly, Nat put James to bed. The others offered to help you clean up, and for that you were very grateful. “I hate this holiday.” “Oh why Y/N?! That’s the funniest time of the year.” You rolled your eyes and looked over at Sam, who was wearing a big pumpkin as his head. Terrified, you screamed and pushed him. He fell backwards into the leaf heap and the pumpkin broke in two halves. Everyone burst into shouting laughter. “That was in fact really funny.” You grinned and threw away the last garbage. You thanked the others for a great evening and sent them home. You’ve spent the last three years raising your son, but not without telling him about his father. You’d tell him story’s every night before bedtime, you’d look at photo books with him, and every time he had a question, you’d answer it to him. The hardest questions were, “Why isn’t Daddy here?” and “Why doesn’t Daddy love me?”. Every time it broke your heart because it broke his little heart to live in uncertainty.

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There was no better time of the year than Halloween to meet Bucky again. As if that wasn’t the worst thing, your son was dressed as winter soldier. He had just had the courage to go to a house alone to ask for candy as you heard the familiar voice behind you. “Y/N What are you doing here? Good to see you. Great costume.” In shock, you look at the house and then slowly turn to Bucky. “Ehm hi what are you doing in this part of town? Not your usual area.” Your smile was as fake as Kim Kardashian’s ass. Panic rose in you. What if James came to you and asked you who that man was? Would he be ready for that? Would you be ready for that? As luck would have it, you were out with your neighbor Carry and her son Lance for Trick or Treating. “Mom, look how many sweets I got it.” Struck by lightning, you turned to James and grabbed your heart. “Honey, your mom’s still at the house next door with Lance.” You swallowed the lump down your throat and your son’s eyes looked at you confused. “Wow you have a really great costume there buddy.“ Bucky said suddenly grinning. His eyes were glowing as he looked at the little boy’s metal arm. “My Mom made it for me.” James smiled and you had to smile too. He was just too precious. “Hey Y/N Sorry. Let’s get going.” Carry pulled at your dress and you followed her thankfully. “Sorry Bucky we have a thing.” You shruffed your shoulders and turned to Carry. “Oh my god thank you so much! You literally saved my life.” You held James' hand tighter and continued down the road.

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Bucky‘s POV

“Bucky, everything okay with you?” Stacie stuck herself in his forearm. “We’ll be late if we don’t hurry.” He was still staring at the little boy. “Go ahead, I’m not so good right now, honey.” he smiled at her and she nodded and went to her brother’s house. There was a Halloween party there today. Bucky took the little note out of his vest and stared at it. The little brown-haired boy was still staring at him as he ran by his ex-girlfriend’s hand. He called her Mom, and she had such a panic in her eyes. How old do you think he is? Probably two or three. Bucky took a closer look at the note. The drawing showed a woman who looked like Y/N and a small boy like the one in the winter soldier costume. The realization hit him like a truck. Bucky ran off, down the road but Y/N was nowhere to be seen. She could have gone to any house, he couldn’t ring the bell or knock on every house to look for her. Why didn’t she tell him he had a son? Less than 10 minutes later, he was standing in the house of his brother-in-law. Bucky didn’t know how to act. “Hey, honey, I’m sorry, but I’m going to lie down upstairs in your old room, I’m not feeling any better.” Stacie looked at him sympathetically. “Should I come?” He shook his head. “No, no. Everything okay. I’ll be all right. Do you have a pill for the headache?” “Yes, in my purse upstairs.” He went up the wooden stairs and ran through his hair. Bucky was running back and forth in Stacy’s old room. He searched her purse for his phone. Apparently, he had forgotten it at home and, out of anger, threw the ugly red bag through the room. It hit an old vase. Confused, Bucky looked at the broken pieces. There was a smartphone in them. Bucky turned on the phone suspiciously. His phone display was copied. His apps and contacts. Everything was the same, but it wasn’t his phone. He opened the last messages he had received.

I had actually given it up but he turned 3 today. . .Happy Birthday to your son.

This will be my last message to you, James. I’ve given up hope. Goodbye.

Bucky pulled his eyebrows together. She had broken up with him by SMS, just like that and shortly after Stacy had contacted him. Angry, Bucky stormed down the stairs. The smartphone almost crushes in his vibranium arm. “STACIE!” His voice sounded dangerous. Almost threatening. He knew what that blonde slut had done. Stacie smiled until she saw his face. Her eyes looked into his and then to the phone. All the color faded from her face. “Where did you get that?” “Where did I get that? You are really asking me that question?! Seriously?! What the fuck is that? Why did you copy my phone?” “Babe let me-.” His face turned red with rage. “Shut the fuck up. What do you want to explain? That you fucked up my last relationship? I read all of those messages. I don’t know why or how you did it, but you’re gonna pay for that. We are over. Get your stuff out of my apartment tonight, or I’m gonna throw your stuff out the window.“ After Bucky managed to convince Sam to tell him Y/N’s address, Bucky knocked until she opened the door. The house was quiet. “I know. Before you ask what this is all about, you know exactly Y/N. The little boy with the blue eyes. They look very familiar to me. How old is he 3?” Tears burned in her eyes. She sighed and opened her door to let him in. „Come one in. Let’s talk inside.” Bucky spent several hours explaining to Y/N everything he had found out. He tried everything to get her to understand. He had already missed so much of his son’s life. He didn’t want to waste the rest of the years. Being a father is a lifelong profession. He might not save his relationship with Y/N, but he might save his relationship with his son. “He’s beautiful. A miracle.” Bucky stood in James door frame and watched the sleeping angel. There was a small night light in the corner of the room. “You told him about me? After you thought I’d dumped you so bad?” he watched the superhero posters and comics. “Of course I did. Even though he didn’t get a chance, I did everything I could to get him to know his father in at least some way.“ You softly closed James door. “I’m very grateful for that. Y/N. It’ll take a while, but I’ll make it up to you. I promise. Even if it is the last thing I will ever do.“

THE END

Taglist :

@yougottalovefandoms @mjaudrey @capmanranger @bluemoon-icecream @intothesoul @lamoursansfin @jessyballet @maryosprinkle @crist1216 @vavilip @lunamyangel @millennial-teenybopper @vicmc624 @itsthemaree @spid3rgwen @thewolfgirluniverse @quinnmaddie

[a-jumped-up-pantry-boy]

Remus Lupin Reading Headcanons

We’ve got the obligatory classics: Wuthering Heights, The Picture of Dorian Gray, at least one Shakespeare (Twelfth Night is there, I get a vibe, no I will not elaborate) and a fair bit of Austen (though he prefers the Brontë sisters).

These are the books that he’s been gifted, and there are some really nice copies from friends that would have cost a lot.

He has books on Egyptian history: Library of Alexandria, the many Pharaohs, massive books on specific Gods, gruesome books about the embalming technique (you can bet for at least a year Remus would threaten to embalm people like the Egyptians and they were half scared he would)

There are so many old poetry books he picked up for 50p in charity shops and second hand bookstores (but not the fancy ones, because who can afford that?), with all his annotations in. 

These annotations range from detailed analysis of the use of iambic pentameter to little notes just saying ‘savage’. 

And of course he uses random notations nobody else can understand, because it’s faster to write. 

He’s also got loads of travel books

Half the ones aren’t even for places he wants to go, but he saw the book and had to get it, because that’s what he does

He’ll flick through it, make note of the most interesting places, and then keep it on his bookshelf forever (f o r e v e r)

He never throws books away

He’ll lend them out to his friends, lose them and then forget they exist, put them in his bag and then just leave them at the bottom next to old papers, make nonsensical piles of books all over the dormitory which he’ll never touch, and so many other things

But he will never, ever, ever get rid of any of his books. 

He also never buys books new

They’re too expensive (especially in hardback) and he likes the character of a book with pages falling out and marks from previous owners (although usually it’s just food stains rather than witty notes)

He’s also got a weird system about books that nobody except him understands (people genuinely think that he’s making up half his rules when they borrow his books)

Like, he folds the pages and writes in the books in pencil, but if anyone dares bring a pen or highlighter near his books there’s a chance they’ll be murdered brutally

And you can read books in the bath/shower (since water dries) but you can’t eat messy food with books (because tomato sauce stains don’t wash out)

If the cover starts peeling off naturally (it happens, especially when you throw books at people, which he does) then it’s fine, but if someone defaces the cover (or just rips it) then, again, prepare for death

And then between the poetry and travel books we have trashy novels

And these are the kind of things that he’ll read when he’s too tired to think properly

He doesn’t read them for the intellectual stimulation, just for enjoyment, but as soon as anyone starts slagging people off for exclusively reading these kinds of books, he’ll fight them

He’s against book shaming (as we all should be) and will slap a bitch to defend someone’s reading honour (is that a thing? we’re going with it)

Anyway, after the one-time-read novels, we have the notebooks

He keeps notebooks on his bookshelf, because that way he can at least find them

(Except his journal and poetry notebooks, which he hides)

He’s got notebooks for language learning, since I firmly believe he’s a linguistic superstar, and they have his notes and practice sentences

And then there are just filled up notebooks, where he’s written to-do lists and played games of hangman

Of course, he doesn’t throw these away either, and he has quite a collection building up

In fact, he has so many books in general that they’re everywhere

We’re talking a completely filled bookshelf, a pile of books next to his bed, a pile for his To Be Read Soon books, a pile for his I Swear I’ll Read Them Eventually books, a pile for his I Need To Read Them Again books, a pile for the books he wants to lend to people but keeps forgetting, a pile for the books that he wants to find a specific quote or paragraph in, a pile for his books that he has yet to sort, and a pile for the books that he just throws down as soon as he walks in the room

He has a reputable library building

And this kind of irritates other people, because they can’t walk around without tripping over a pile of books, but they don’t mind too much because he’s just so passionate about them that they feel bad complaining

And anyway, when they eventually mention that they’re in a bit of a reading slump, he’ll immediately run off and come back with five or six books that they’d like

When they thank him he’ll just mumble and walk off, but he actually loves choosing books for people

And when they come back to him and say that they thought the book was amazing, he basically dies

He considers being a librarian for a bit, but then he realises he’d also have to deal with the defaced books, so decides against it

He’s still known as the informal librarian, anyway, and people always respect his book rules, so he doesn’t have to kill anyone for ruining the front covers or highlighting sections

Sometimes people will give him more books as thank you gifts for recommending them all books, and it’s genuinely the biggest compliment he could be given.

[youllneverknowrac]

Oscar Diaz-Birthday Bash Pt.2

(Momma Bear Series)

When you finish getting dolled up, a breezy summer dress now on your body you head to the back yard, all of your kids outside helping Ruby decorate the backyard, including Cesar. Minus Alexander of course who sat happily in Jasmines arms as she watched her boyfriend command everything into perfection. Oscar working on firing the grill up.

“Hey girl, you look good.” The still crazy outgoing girl, now women compliments when you walk up to her.

“Thanks, so do you. Love the earrings. So where’s Monse?” You ask as you take a seat next to her,”Jamal?”

“Jamal is showing up after he gets off of work and Monsé couldn’t couldn’t make it. Something about her dad and his ankle this morning, I don’t know.” She shrugs, making faces down at Alex.

“That’s too bad.” You say sadly,”I’ll ask Cesar to find out what exactly happened.” Looking around as your backyard is slowly getting covered inch by inch in party decor,”I don’t know why Ruby hasn’t become a official party planner.” You joke

“Because I would go crazy with how stressed to the max he would be all the time. I don’t need that in my life and neither does nobody else.” She laughs, letting you think it over before agreeing with her statement.

“Okay true.” You say, making small talk with her before your husbands voice grabs your attention.

“Yo birthday boy! Bring daddy a beer.” You hear Oscar yell from across the yard, Angel sitting down and trying his best to blow up a balloon.

“Uh no!” You call out quickly to him, standing up and doing it yourself,”Don’t have our three year old bring you alcohol.” You scold playfully as you shove the can to his chest when you reach him.

“Aye, I’m fucking thirsty mama.” Oscar defends as he grabs the beer and pops the tab, the grill heating up,”Besides he’s a big boy now right? So I gave him a big boy task.”

“You’re so annoying.” You laugh and turn to walk away, Oscar smacking your ass roughly,”Stop.” You squeal, running away to go make yourself useful. Oscar’s loud laugh filling your ears.

“Hey boys.” You smile, watching as Cesar and Ruby secure the yellow plastic cover over one of the rental tables, your kids doing the same at another one.

“Y/N.” They both say in unison, offering a smile to follow

“Can I do anything to help out?” You ask

“No. We got this.” Your brother in law says, Ruby holding his finger up in disapproval.

“Actually, I noticed you guys didn’t have any dip or sauce for the snack table so if you could whip something up that would make everything look a lot more presentable. Thank you.”

“Right. Dip, I’m on it.” You smile and wave them off, running inside as Jasmine follows in,”If you want to set him down, his rocker is in the living room.” You tell her, pulling out a large bowl from the cabinets.

“I guess, he’s asleep anyway.” She says and puts him down before joining you,”Want me to help?”

“Sure. I have a basket of avocados and tomatoes in the fridge, I may have some limes and cilantro as well.” You tell her, Jasmine nodding.

The two of you work swift and quick around the kitchen, working as one and before you know it a beautiful bowl of guacamole is prepared. You glance at the clock on the wall as you make your way outside again, the party almost about to start. You admire the transformation in front of you, a huge grin on your face. The slide taking up most of your yard, a little kiddie pool set up for the younger kids, the speaker now blasting music, and baby shark decorations covering every inch.

“Ruby!” You say happily as you set the bowl down outside near the chips,”Everything is so perfect. You’re the best.”

“It was a bit of work, but I’m glad you like it.” He grins, fixing the collar on his button up shirt,”I’ll take my payment please. I’m now accepting cashapp as well.”

“You can talk to my husband about that one.” Motioning over to him as he worked on filling large foil trays with patty’s and sausages.

“I will do that...um no problem.” Ruby’s says and takes off in that direction, his fiancée following. Knowing that Ruby still had a unresolved nervous tick when it came to talking to Oscar sometimes.

“Hey Uncle Cesar.” You call out as you walk over to sit by the kiddie pool, watching Angel play. The older boys already making use of the slides.

“What’s up?”

“Can you please go get your nephew from the living room and then come tell me why Monse hasn’t been coming around anymore?” You ask

“Fine. Only cause I know you’re going to keep bugging me about it.” He groans, darting off inside the house.

“Mommy? I want to go on the big slide.” Angel says from the pool,”But I’m a wittle scared.” He admits shyly

“The slides for you papi. You don’t need to be be scared. Go ask Ant or JJ to help you, I’m sure they will.”

“Okay.” He grins excitedly, pushing the curls off his face before he goes in search of his big brothers.

One at a time, people start showing up to the party, Cesar joining you a few minutes later,”Had to change him, it was a messy one.” He says, handing over the fussy baby.

“Thanks.” You smile and let Alex chew on your knuckle as he brings it to his mouth,”So where is your long time girlfriend at?”

“She’s always busy with work and her dad, I don’t know. We’re just sort of drifting apart. That doesn’t mean she didn’t want to come today though, her dad messed up his ankle and she’s staying with him for a few days.” He explains, not being one to beat around the bush when it came to you.

“Why are you letting it drift apart then stupid?” You ask him with a raised eyebrow,”You can’t let adult shit keep you guys from being together. You guys are endgame, like me and Oscar.”

“I know, it’s just hard. And I don’t want it to be hard. I know we’ll get through it though, we always do. I just have to give her some space and she has to do the same for me. You know we’ve always been like that, it’s just how out relationship works.”

“It shouldn’t work like that though. You guys are 24 now, it’s time to buckle down. Don’t you agree to some extent?” You say with a small smile,”I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but I’ve been in your life since you were 5. I care about you and love you. I just don’t want you to waste the best years of your life with Monse just for it to go no where, same for her. You both deserve a happy stable relationship.” A flashback popping into your mind of when you were 15 and Oscar brought you over to his house for the first time ever and you met a certain little Diaz brother.

“I know hermana, and I appreciate it but I don’t want to talk about this. At least not today. Okay?”

“Okay.” You sigh, changing your mood,”Now, go enjoy that really expensive slide with your nephews please. They missed you.”

“Will do.” He smiles and walks around to join the boys.

You sit back in the chair and enjoy the sun, watching as your back yard gets filled by the minute. Jamal managing to get off of work a bit earlier and picking up his growing family on the way, not really a surprise to you that he ended up being a young dad as well whenever Kendra got pregnant in their final year of college.

“Is that the Mrs.Oscar Diaz?” You hear him joke as he walks over with a pregnant Kendra and two year old daughter in his arms.

“Why yes it is.” You laugh and do a little shoulder shimmy. Standing up and placing Alex in the kiddy pool before you go over to hug the both of them.

“How have you guys been?” You grin from ear to ear,”How’s the parent life treating you?” You ask along with a bunch of other questions, always having loved the chats you shared with them. They make conversation with you for a while before going over to sit with Ruby and Jasmine, their daughter now sitting in the pool with Alex and two other baby’s from the neighborhood. After asking one of the other moms to keep a eye on Alex, you walk back over to Oscar. Standing on the other side of the grill this time, not wanting to feel his hand on your backside again.

“Where’s my food chef?” You joke as you push all of your hair to one shoulder.

“Aye, I’m going as fast as I can mami. Lot’s of people asking me for food around here.” He says with a wave of the spatula, his forehead covered in sweat.

“I’m sure Cesar wouldn’t mind taking over.” You suggest

“Do you want our kids party to end in flames? He ain’t coming no where near my grill.”

“You’re right.” You giggle in agreement,”But I think you’ve made enough to hold people over for a while.” You say after taking a look at both trays filled with meat,”Come enjoy the party. Please.”

“Only for a bit.” He says, switching the fire off before coming around to join you.

“Yay.” You cheer softly and wrap your arms around him when he’s in arms reach,”Let’s get some of the food you worked so hard on.”

“Gladly.” He says and pecks your lips before releasing you and reaching for a plate as you do the same. Once the two of you are satisfied you go back to your original spot by the pool and take a seat, Oscar by your side as you both talk and eat. Him being the one to discard of the trash when you’re both full and have had enough. When he returns he has a crying Carlos in his arms, clinging to his neck.

“Oh my god, what happened?” You ask quickly, letting Oscar place the six year old boy in you lap as you hold him to your chest.

“He fell, got a little cut on his knee. He’ll be okay but he wanted me to bring him to you. He said he’ll believe he’s okay when you say it.” Oscar informs you as he sits back down,”Apparently I don’t know shit about cuts so he’s got to hear it from the expert. Which would be mommy.” He chuckles.

“Shut up.” You say followed by a large eye roll before you cater to your son,”Does it hurt papi?” You ask him softly as you stroke his damp hair back

“A little. Is my leg going to fall off mommy?” He asks, little sniffles still coming from him.

“No. It’s not going to fall off.” You laugh and kiss his forehead,”You’re going to be all okay. I promise. Just sit with me for a few minutes and rest your leg. Then you can go play again, sound good?” You ask him

“Sounds good.” He answers quickly and lays his head against you, letting you cuddle him. You know people loved to judge you about how you ‘baby’ your kids but you didn’t care. They were your baby’s and always will be. Oscar actually liking that you treated them with such love and affection since it was something he never had growing up,”I feel better mommy, can I go now?” He asks not even two minutes later.

“Yes, just be careful.” You tell him seriously before letting him down from your lap, watching him take off back to the slide at a super speed.

“Must be nice. I pick him up, clean the cut and put the bandaid on, but you get all the love and credit.” Oscar comments next to you, a grin on his face.

“They are mommas boys, you should have gave me a girl if you wanted love and credit.” You smile and reach for his hand.

“We still have a few years of trying left in us. We can always get that girl. Maybe I’ll have a gift for you tonight and she’ll get here sooner rather than later.”

“Yeah right. The only person getting gifts is Angel and if your so called ‘gift’ ever comes near me again it better be wrapped. No baby’s here. Ever again.” You tell him seriously as you point to your stomach,”Five and done.”

“Sure.” He says smugly, taking a sip from the beer can.

“Damn right I’m sure. What the hell would we look like with six kids? Plus Junior is going to be 18 soon, we would have an adult for a kid and a newborn. You’re crazy.” You laugh

“We would look like a normal Hispanic family and we wouldn’t have to pay for a babysitter.” He laughs in return,”Besides I’m not being totally serious, I’m just messing with you.”

“Good.” You say and squeeze his hand,”I’m glad we’re on the same page. Now let’s cut the cake and then we can do presents.”

“Yeah just what we need, more monster trucks and fake tools laying around the house.” Oscar laughs as he stands up, helping you to your feet. The present table over flowing with boxes and gifts bags.

“I’ll just get rid of his old toys, he won’t even notice. I’ll get the baby and you go get the cake. Or do you want to switch?” You ask

“Switch.” He grins, already walking past you to pick up Alexander. You smile and head inside, grabbing the cake and cupcakes, along with a lighter. Oscar loudly instructing everybody to gather around, Angel rushing to the center of the table and climbing up on the chair.

“Cake! Hurry mommy.” He says excitedly with a clap of his hands.

“I’m coming.” You tell him and you hurry over and set everything down in front of him, lighting the three candles before stepping back.

“Nobody better smash his head into anything! Now sing!” Oscar quickly adds in before the famous birthday song commences, everybody keeping their hands to themselves when it comes to a end. A loud cheer erupts when he blows out the flame, Angel over joyed at this.

You help pass out the treats, letting everybody have time to eat before moving onto gifts. The rest of the part continuing to be just as perfect and lasting until late at night. Most of the kids passed out in random places around your house as the parents enjoy themselves until you nicely kick them all out.

~

“Thanks again for staying to clean up.” You thank Cesar at the door,”get home safely. Love you.”

“Love you guys.” He says, heading to his car after and driving away. You yawn tiredly and lock up, the time reading a little past one in the morning now. The older boys just going to bed a few minutes ago, wanting to enjoy the slide for as long as they could since it was being picked up early in the morning. Angel and Alex already in your bed and absolutely drained from today’s activities.

“I think that’s everything.” Oscar slurs as he comes in through the back door with another garbage bag filled with trash. He sets it down in the kitchen with all the others before stumbling towards you,”I’ll take it all out in the morning.”

“That’s okay with me.” You giggle and help him walk to your guys bedroom,”Drank a bit too much huh?”

“Just a bit.” He laughs,”But I still managed to clean the yard up pretty well.”

“You did. I’ll give you that.”

“I’m so tired mami, I need sleep.” He groans, kicking his shoes off and not bothering with his clothes as he goes over to the bed.

“Careful. The boys are asleep already.” You remind him, already undressing yourself and pulling a t-shirt over your body, Oscar grumbling in understanding. Showering could just wait until tomorrow. You join them in bed, your eyes already closing before your head even hits the pillow. Today being long, hectic, tiring, and happy all rolled into one. Knowing that in just a few more months you would be throwing another party and then another after that. Which was all okay with you, you loved your boys and their birthdays were something you took pride in making special. This was the life you signed up for after all with five kids and what not.

[severelynerdysheep]

gaytheiestbandkid

My last response below, because while I respect that you blocked me (though I have no clue why) the fact that you did you after making your own response that I then cant respond to via reblog is a tad iffy. And I at least feel that I should be able to post my own response anywhoo even if I cant do so directly. If not only cause I spent a heck of a time writing this “^^

“ done yet? if you have the idea that there’s a “carnist bias” in my post then you’ve got me all wrong. i wholeheartedly support taking down the animal agriculture industry.”

Well it certainly looks like you don't support the abolishment of the animal ag industry since you pay for it when its possible and practicable to avoid doing so. You literally called the social justice movement dedicated to taking down this industry along with every other form of animal exploitation a “cult” and you make a post filled with lies and misrepresentation about animal agriculture and plant based diets. As well as promoting as supporting the needless consumption of animal flesh/secretions as a “personal choice tho”. If that isn't bias then water isn't wet.

“ by means that actually work rather than putting a band-aid on a gushing arterial wound, by means that people can get on board with rather than moral absolutism.”

Any solution which doesn't include the avoidance of all forms of animal exploitation as far as possible an practicable as the very least that people with moral agency have a moral obligation to do. Any solution which spreads lies an misinformation about the form of injustice attempting to be abolished, any solution which places sole blame on capitalism, which absolutely doesn't work with animal exploitation since is would exists in any system. Is not a solution in any sense of the word.

By your logic its fine to support/inflict violence against women because having the basic requirement that people shouldn't inflict  violence/exploitation absent others as individuals is just a “band aid” for a gushing would in any social justice movement. Instead of holding said people who claim to oppose said injustice while inflicting it accountable as adult in control of their own actions. And yes being opposed to people needlessly exploiting, abusing/torturing and murdering other sentient beings of another species for their own personal pleasure is intrinsically an issue of rights and wrongs. Just like its an issue of rights and wrongs when victims are humans because all victims are sentient. If saying needless violence, exploitation and murder is wrong is moral absolutism. Then I would hope that the vast majority of people would happily sign up to stand on that hill.  

“ and your response to the “buying local” point is clearly emotion-based and disingenuous. the point was clearly about environmental impact, yet you made it about the poow suffewing animaws”

Fist of all, you simply said “the only way to truly have a low-impact diet “ So you could have been talking about either the ethical or environmental impact. Secondly, you seemed to have missed the whole of the part before I talked about the ethics (which is the most important issue, and its simply disgusting that you would joke around about that. Yes they are suffering and people like yourself are responsible) And I will link to the section where I explained why your “buy local” for the environment argument is wrong.

So locality means very little when it comes the the environmental impact of a food, with transport costs being just one small fraction of the overall footprint of a food item as It has been demonstrated that an average of 83% of a food product’s carbon footprint is caused during production. And transportation accounts for only 11% of the product’s greenhouse gas emissions. This means that choosing a plant-based option will always have a far lower impact than even the flesh of locally raised, exploited, abused/tortured and murdered animals, even when it is imported from abroad. Simply put, the idea that “buying local” in in any way comparable to (let alone better than) doing your best to avoid supporting the injustice that is animal agriculture as a consumer when it comes to either envionemtat impact is simply not based on facts.

“i don’t remember saying people should go out of their way to buy meat locally? only that they should buy locally in general if they claim to be making near-zero impact”

I mean in a post dedicated to spreading falsehoods about animal agriculture, I think its pretty safe to assume that you were trying to claim that a diet than including animal flesh/secretions that is entirely locally brought has a lower impact on the environment than a plant based diet which isn't fully local. Which isn't true. I’m happy to be corrected though, if you weren't saying that, and you recognise that even a fully local diet that includes animal flesh/secretions has a much bigger impact than a non local plant based diet.

“ by holding those in power rather than the everyday civilian accountable for massive-scale ecological destruction (telling me the 71% statistic is about fossil fuels in no way undermines the broader point of bringing it up.”

Your specific claim was “100 companies are responsible for over 70% of human-linked carbon emissions; as an everyday civilian, your carbon footprint is very nearly zero compared to that of big corporations, which are the real problem to begin with” This is a complete misunderstanding of the study and absolutely undermines the broader argument that you were trying to make. Since it in no way supports that argument. The study shows that 100 companies produced 71% of the fossil fuels which are then used by other industries and by consumers via their individual actions. 100 companies aren’t causing 71% of emissions, they’re producing 71% of fossil fuels. Those are completely different things. Completely different. Heck, the animal flesh industry (the industry exploded in this study) is responsible for as many GHG emissions as 70 of these companies combined. An industry which is exists entirely due to supply and demand. Individuals carbon footprints are included to make up both those 71% of fossil fuels as well as the GHG emissions from the animal flesh industry, let alone other animal ag/animal exploitation industries.

“ your pound-for-pound examination of food costs is yet another poorly-thought-out point without any nuance. 1) the low pound-for-pound costs of plant based foods are typically attributed to bulk prices and 2) you can’t ignore calorie density. someone unemployed or living paycheck to paycheck can feed themselves for longer on a $5 bag of chicken nuggets than on a bulk purchase of plant-based foods, many of which will go bad within the same time frame anyways.“

Again, this isn't true. I wasn't talking about pound just as in weight, I was talking about pound as in money. So say an average daily intake of 2500 calories is generally the cheapest when it comes to pounds (as in £) worldwide compared to the same amount of calories on a diet that included animal flesh and secretions. Which is one reason why the poorest population subsist on primarily plant based diets. This is because the cheapest items are the staple items such as the rice, pasta, potatoes, beans and lentils, tinned veg/fruit, oats, etc. All of which are staple items which are included in the diet of those who consume animal flesh anyway. For example, people can feed themselves for longer on pasta and tomato sauce, or rice and beans, than a bag of breaded chicken flesh. And the bag of breaded chicken flesh will go of sooner than the former foods. with the former being full meals as opposed to breaded chicken flesh which you would eat with something else.

Sure, bulk buying is a great way to shop if you can, but even if you aren't talking about bulk buying, a plant based diet is still the cheapest worldwide. As I explained in my original response. Not surprising then that double the percent of vegans are in the lowest come bracket compared to middle and higher incomes.

And your original claim was that many people cannot go plant based (or vegan) because vegan products are more expensive than their non vegan counterparts. Never mind that fact that you don't have to eat plant based meats, cheeses, ice cream etc.. of a plant based diet.

But lets use these plant based alternatives to compare to their non vegan counterparts for a sec:

~  At Asda you can buy 8 plant based burgers from their own brand frozen range much cheaper than Asda’s own brand frozen animal flesh burgers. 1.75p for 8 plant based burgers vs 2.00p for only 4 animal flesh burgers. And this is the same for pretty much every UK Food store brand.

~ Let’s look at cheese and look at its costs at Tesco, another popular supermarket. A 200g block of own brand Tesco cheese is exactly the same price as 200g of vegan cheese being sold.

Of course if you include these plant based products it will be more expensive than sticking to the staples, your diet will probably be closer to that of someone who doesn't eat a plant based diet. But if you stick to the staples then yes, its absolutely cheaper. And I did link to lot of sources of more information which it looks like you didn't check out unfortunately.  

!i’m hesitant to bring up this point because it really does get misused by non-vegans a lot, but the industries for plant-based foods aren’t the pinnacle of morality. many plant food industries– including those that vegans partake in far more than non-vegans, subject workers in developing areas to literal slave labor in downright horrible conditions.”

Can you tell me which specific industries vegans take part in more than non vegans which are ethically worse than the non vegan equivalent? Keeping in mind both that no vegan claims to be 100% cruelty free as a consumer, and that the diet of a non vegan includes far more plant crops (and therefore more crop labour/worker exploitation) than a vegans does. Nobody is saying that being vegan is the most you can do, its literally the least you can and should do. Its the baseline, the starting line, the very basic requirements for anyone who claims to have consideration for others. And really, I don't see what this has to do with any of the falsehoods made in the OP? It’s is a pretty big deflection it seems from any of the claims made in the OP.

“ there is no ethical consumption under capitalism. getting hung up on the specifics of what kinds of consumption are/aren’t ethical implies that absolutely everything we eat or use or otherwise consume is a product of exploitation, misses the point, and designates the public as the public enemy rather than the ones running the system.”

Are you trying to use the statement “there's no ethical consumption under capitalism” to justify the individual actions of consumers place all of the blame on capitalism? Because that is completely bananas.

There is no ethical consumption under capitalism.

This fab article by WorkingClass Vegan

A great post on this very site by @mickibuddy here

Quick edit: @mohs-hardness-scale I saw you reblogged my response with a  response of you own, though I can only see the first part of your reply that says “its not my job to provide you with sources. Google exists” since your friend blocked me and deleted almost all notes on their post. I wonder why. But please feel free to repeat your response via reblog of this post So I can have the common curtesy of being able to respond. Or if you don't want a public dialogue my ask box is always open. 

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #414

“mirror, mirror, tell me who you see  /  am i you or me?  /  i can never remember”

How many people have you kissed? Four. Ever kissed someone you weren’t dating at the time? No. Of the people you’ve kissed, how many do you regret kissing? Two. Ever been kissed by a legal adult when you were a minor (or vise-versa)? Yeah, with Jason, but it was only a two-year difference. Ever kissed someone on a dare/as part of a game? No. Where’s the most public place you’ve ever made out with someone? Nowhere public. I wouldn't do that. Can you snowboard? Never tried. Have you ever made a mixed cd for someone? No. Do you use recycle bins at your house? Yes. Do you own more than one bathing suit? No. Have you ever kissed someone who smokes weed? Jason did occasionally with his best friend, but he stopped for me. How are you right this second? I'm all right. Last night was pretty rough, so I'm just glad that's over. My body is just tired. Is there anything you disliked about your last birthday? Honestly, I barely remember what I did on my last birthday. I just remember it was fine. Oh wait, actually, on the way home from going out to eat, we had to call the cops while behind a car whose driver was obviously drunk or high OFF. HIS. ASS. He was swerving like crazy and almost hit SO many cars. I was having an absolute panic attack. I pray to God that guy was more than just found and fined. Do you keep a diary or journal (offline or online)? No, unless you count surveys, I guess. What were you like a year ago? I was the unhappily the same. Is someone on your mind right now? Fucking always. Having a warm dream about him last night didn't help. Who was the last person you sat next to? My mom. What do you currently hear right now? My screen is split so I can watch John Wolfe play some indie horror games. What’s something you need to go shopping for? I need to get new bras baaaadly because I'm tired of none fitting properly. What’s the last thing you ate? I had a donut 'cuz Mom stopped at Dunkin' for coffee. Do/did you do good in school? I did up to college. Then I just... sucked. Do you always get along with your siblings? I mean I don't see/talk to them every day or anything, not even very regularly even, but we generally get along fine now as adults. We disagree about shit for sure, but keep our mouths shut. Or probably talk to Mom about it while I'm not present. I don't even think they like me half of the time. Are you frustrated with anything? So much. Why did you fall for the last person romantically? There were/are a lot of factors. Just she as a person is phenomenal. What’s your younger sibling’s name? Nicole. Can you speak in a different language conversationally; if so, which language? A tiny bit of German. Do you ever fear of falling asleep? With my nightmares, I used to dread it. Now, thankfully, my APAP mask has prevented them from happening, mostly; I've only had two in the month that I've had it, and I ordinarily had them every single night. Do you have an idea of what kind of profession you’d like to have? I do, but I honestly doubt I'm going to succeed in even making it a part-time job by this damn point. Which beach would you say is your favorite? I don't have a favorite. I don't even like the beach very much. What kind of cookie is your favorite? Chocolate chip. Have you ever had a churro? Yes. Too crunchy and ridiculously sweet, not a fan. Truth be told, are you more into looks or personalities the most? A good personality beats good looks any day. How is/was your chemistry class in high school? I actually didn't take chemistry; my graduating year, physical science was offered as the alternative, which I took. How does alcohol affect you? I get hot, and my face flushes badly. It'll make me more talkative. Have you ever tried lemon brownies? No, and I don't want to. I don't like lemon-flavored stuff like that. What was the last type of meat you ate? Beef. Have you taken any medication today? I have prescriptions I take every day. Have you ever watched Parks and Recreation? I've seen some of it at Sara's house. What is your favourite kind of pasta? Just spaghetti with tomato sauce and meatballs, really. I've been on a major chicken pesto kick lately, though. Have you set an alarm today? No. Think of a random person, and give them a message here, no names: Literally just the chance to say "I'm sorry" would be fucking amazing. Just two fucking words. What if there were two of you? Would the world be in trouble? No. That'd be a waste of space, though. Not like I'm contributing much to society. Would you prefer an ice cream sundae or an ice cream cone? I dunno man, it depends on my mood and what I want in the moment. Do you watch movies with the subtitles on? No; I find it to be distracting. Is the last person you kissed yours? I hate this saying. She's her own person that belongs to nobody but herself. But to just go along with it and answer the question, no, we're not together. Do you think you will be married by the time you are 25? Welp, I'm halfway through 25, so. Do you have siblings over the age of 21? All of my siblings are. Do you have a hard time admitting you’re wrong? No. Especially as I've aged, I'd say I'm pretty quick to accept if I've fucked up. Who has the ability to hurt you the most emotionally? Jason will probably always have that power, even if he's not in my life. Would you ever be a stripper? God no, nobody wants to see that. What are your plans for tomorrow? Just get through the day, man. Do you owe anybody money? No. How would your parents describe you? Reserved, shy, a deep thinker, animal lover, uhhhh... What is the most you have ever weighed? Let's not. Would you ever work at McDonald's? No. I'm never working in food service. If you aren't already, would you go vegetarian or vegan? I want to be a vegetarian and being a vegan would be perfectly ideal for me, but I really don't think I can healthily accomplish either. I am FAR too picky to where I'd almost definitely become malnourished. To make it even worse I absolutely cannot "suck it up" if I don't like a food, so it's not like I could choke down stuff I don't like. Not to mention I'd be pretty sad without any yummy food to look forward to, aha. Coolest person you've ever met? Uhhhh I don't know. Do you wear boxers? No. Girls, how old were you when you first learned how to put in a tampon? I don't remember. Would you ever attend a gay pride parade or festival? I would absolutely love to. Did you see Paranormal Activity 2? I think I've seen all of the movies. I liked them, given paranormal horror films are probably my fave. What would you do if an old man grabbed your ass? Kick him in the fucking balls so goddamn fast and probably slap him across the face at the same time. Probably cry later from feeling violated and having my fear of men aggravated. Do you like moustaches? It depends on the person, but I'd say I generally prefer an attached beard and a mustache versus JUST a mustache. Could you hack into someone's computer if you tried hard enough? No. I have no idea how to do that. Have you ever smoked a cigar? No. Do you go out on Black Friday? Hell no. NOT worth fighting people for deals. Do you have curtains in your bedroom? No; I have those blinds that you can close upwards or downwards. Did you like the Spice Girls when you were little? Yeah, I did. Can you sing the entire Fresh Prince of Bel-Air theme song? I think I can. Do you get heartburn? I'm literally on an antacid prescription, or else I get insane heartburn every day. Are you scared of elevators? To a moderate degree, yes. I'm terrified of it getting stuck. Have you ever seen a dead body in person? Yes, at an open-casket wake. Have you ever seen The Goonies? I have. If you're white, do you ever wish you were black? Or vice versa? I'm fine being Caucasian, but ultimately don't care. Do you bake cookies all the time around Christmas? I don't bake. Do you like your hair pulled? Uhhh... I'm assuming you mean this in a suggestive context, in which case no. Never pull my hair, actually. What kind of jeans do you like? Ripped skinny jeans. What do you think is overrated? Who really cares. Let people enjoy what they enjoy. And what are your goals for the remainder of this year? Lose lots of weight, find a job, get back into old hobbies and develop new ones... Name a city that starts with A in your state/province etc. Asheboro. Name a landmark that starts with M in your state/province etc. I'm blanking right now. When was the last time you gave a horse a carrot? Been years. I think I've only done that once, and I can't even remember where it was. Have you ever had to shovel snow? No. How many seasons is your favorite TV show in so far? MM was just revived for its fifth season! :') Where would you most like to go in your state, etc. that you haven’t been? NC actually has this really old Wizard of Oz theme park! It's on the other end of the state, though, and NC is one wiiiiiide state. What was the last bird you saw? A robin, I think. What color was the last thing you drank? Green. Has a wild animal ever been loose in your house? Besides insects, no. Well wait, scratch that, once or twice we had a small mice problem when we lived in the woods. What’s the name of the bookstores in your city? The only one I know off the top of my head is Books-a-Million. Where do your parents live? I live with my mom, and Dad lives in the same city as us. Have you ever seen or touched an iceberg? No, but that would be cool. What colour are your father’s eyes? Brown. If your ex turned up on your doorstep now, with nowhere else to go, would you let him/her stay? Well one, this isn't my house, so I can't make that decision. My mom being who she is though, she'd let pretty much anyone stay the night. If it was Sara, Mom would let her stay as long as she needed. The last time you cried, was it connected with someone of the opposite sex? Ugh, yes. My PTSD was BAD last night. Delicious warm brownies or a giant cookie? I'll take the brownie. Have you visited a haunted building or area before? No, but damn I'd love to. Have you been to North Carolina? Ayyyyeeeee that's my home.

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

ATDT!AU Post-Escape Halloween thing 1-5 (or more)

The little town at the base of Mt. Ebott was practically buzzing with excitement. Normally, due to restrictions put on by an H.O.A that feared and hated Halloween as “The Devil’s Birthday”, Halloween parties were rarely held unless they were in secret and at home. A lot of normal people in town were delightfully surprised that the power-tripping harpies in charge didn’t try to ban trick-or-treating or house decorating altogether but the townsfolk were often muffed at the strict rules surrounding it: “Trick-or-treating starts at 6:30 and ends at 7:00″, “Any house that puts up decorations before Oct. 28th and or leaves its decorations up after Nov. 3rd will receive a fine”, “All Outdoor Halloween decorations must be 5′ tall or shorter”. And other such ridiculous rules were put in place to shackle Halloween to the ground.

But what made this year so different? This year, Mettaton and Sammy Lawrence were holding what could only be described as the BIGGEST Halloween party/Haunted mansion romp in the history of humans, monsters, and toons. And thanks to the co-stars’ charisma, Mettaton hiring a really good lawyer, and the currently dominant half of Sammy being too darn spiteful to be contained by mortal means, the H.O.A. was completely powerless to stop them.

However, it didn’t stop them from trying anyway. This week, Linda Simmons (Not to be confused with Linda Stein, who is a lovely lady and an excellent member of society but is not human in the slightest.) Was the one to march up to the monstrosity of a haunted mansion in progress to demand to speak to the pair.

She clutched the cross on her necklace tightly in her hands as she saw the mansion in all its ‘unholy’ glory. As per Mettaton’s usual ‘go big or go home’ approach to his work, the damned thing looked like something out of someone’s nightmares! The mansion itself looked like an old-fashioned but normal one but the “Decorations”? Large patches of fleshy growths scattered all over and presumably within the mansion, giant human-like bones and organs growing in and around the area, thick black fluid being pumped into the monstrosity, and god knows what else!

Linda felt sick to her stomach when she walked up the thing, almost swearing that she saw the flesh patches writhing, as well as the bloodshot eyes embedded into the outside walls staring directly at her. In her other hand, she held a copy of the H.O.A.’s very strict rule book, clutching onto it as if it were a bible. She took a deep breath in, and pounded on the door.

“Just give me five minutes Darling!✨”

The mechanical menace whom she once adored on television before meeting him face-to-face oh too cheerfully responded over the sound of a roaring chainsaw and nails being pounded into wood on the other side of the door. After an exact five minutes had passed (she checked her watch between impatiently knocking on the door and tapping her foot on the ground), she was greeted with a giant calculator-like robot wearing a spiffy Halloween-themed suit complete with a tie with a bat pattern on it.

“Why Linda, how nice of you to drop by!”

She frowned at the superstar machine.

“Mettaton, are you aware that you’re violating the H.O.A. rules regarding Halloween decorations?! And what on earth are you two thinking holding a Halloween party here?! Do you have any idea how many noise complaints you’ll get?! The fine you’ll get is-”

“SShhhhhh”

Mettaton put his finger against her lips and Linda crossed her arms in frustration as he continued to draw out that ‘shush’ noise. His other arm extended into the room behind him and retracted with a large pile of papers in hand. He stopped shushing when the papers where in her face. She internally groaned at the sight of them, she hated it when people found loopholes.

“As you can see here, here, here, here, here, here, and here... Everything we’re going is completely within the H.O.A. rules and regulations.”

“What the?!” Her eye twitched, her face turned red, and after skimming through Mettaton’s papers, she spoke through gritted teeth “Okay, so your decorations are Technically allowed... But only because nobody would ever think that we’d have to make a rule against animating MEAT with black magic to make Halloween decorations... But what about the party itself?! And the noise?!”

While Mettaton did not have eyes at the moment, Linda could feel him rolling them at her.

“The ‘Party’ you claim we’re throwing is actually a charity ball that happens to have a Halloween theme to it, which as you can see under this section right here, IS allowed.”

She raised an eyebrow at the robot.

“What type of charity?”

The lights cut out, all replaced with a single spotlight on Mettaton, who was now dramatically draped over a piano while a sad melody on a violin began to play and white rose petals started to fall on him.

“A great tragedy had fallen on thousands upon thousands of innocent lives... Men, women, and even small children stripped from their homes, from their friends and families and all brutally slaughtered! And after death? Their souls broken, and forcefully fused together within a prison of vile ink made by a cruel man who cared not that he was turning nightmares into reality, as long as it meant his dreams come true... These restless souls have finally been freed from their devilish tormentor, and had grown attached to this world, no longer humans, but not quite monsters either. These people are lonely, confused and scared in a new modern world that while offers them new chances and opportunities, is a strange and foreign place that overwhelms them to the point where they want to go back. As having a familiar yet horrible home can be more welcoming than an unknown yet kind home at times. We’re raising money and awareness to help these poor people get back on their feet.”

 Linda bit her lip and rolled her eyes at Mettaton’s overly sappy and over-dramatic speech, she knew that the “people” he was referring to were most likely those strange, hyper, 2-D creatures and or those disgusting, smelly, ink things that took up residence inside Mt. Ebott after all of the regular monsters came up here.

“And what about noise complaints?”

The lights flicked back on and Mettaton threw himself off the piano in annoyance.

“Well, Sammy and I are constructing sound proof walls as we speak, so when the building is properly complete, there wont be a thing to worry about.”

Linda threw her head back laughing.

“Sammy is helping build them? Sammy Lawrence? That weird giant slug thing with the creepy mask? What does he do? Ooze on the wood that needs to be nailed up?”

“You can always ask him what he does yourself, Darling!” He pushed her down the hall and into the next room before slamming the door behind him while she stayed on the other side. “He loves to answer questions!”

“Hey! Don’t just shove me in here with that disgusting mass of slime! I don’t care if you’re a celebrity or not, I can have you arrested and- Oh sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph...”

“Have a Banana, Hannah, Try the salami, Tommy, Get with the gravy, Davey, Everybody eats when they come to my house.”

While she was pounding on the door, she looked back just to make sure that the creature Mettaton often worked with wasn’t about to pounce on her and gnaw her limbs off, but instead of a giant black slug that had arms and reeked of spoiled meat and moldy art supplies, she was starring at a human being. And he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen in person.

“Try a tomato, Plato, Here’s cacciatore, Dorie, Taste the baloney, Tony, Everybody eats when they come to my house!”

The man was tall and broad, his skin was clean-shaven, on the paler side and had healed claw marks all over it, he wasn’t wearing a shirt at all (A fact which Linda was very thankful for.) which revealed that he had a large, strange tattoo on his back, and he had dirty-blond hair that was so long that it was only stopped from dragging on the floor thanks to the braid it was in.

“I fix your favorite dishes, Hopin’ this good food fills ya! Work my hands to the bone in the kitchen alone, You better eat if it kills ya!”

He had his back turned to her, singing to himself and clearly very focused on the task in front of him, but she happily watched his every move in awed silence. In addition to his body, the man also had a lovely singing voice.

“Pass me a winda, Linda,” he gestured behind him. “In all seriousness, if you could pass me that window pane behind you, that would be great.”

“Oh!”

Linda snapped up and instantly scrambled for the window he had gestured to.

“Thank you, that’ll do.”

The head of the PTA and member of the H.O.A. stared intensely at him, taking in every single detail of his front. From his black pants to his washboard abs- until he gently tilted her head up so that she was looking at the man’s face.

“You know,” He said teasingly with a wink. “My eyes are up here.”

His sharp-featured face that only had one long claw mark on it as opposed to the rest of his body, his bright white smile that she couldn’t find a single flaw in, and his eyes, his deep, dark brown eyes that just made her melt by looking at them. Oh sweet lord, this man was so far out of her league that she honest to god thought he was blind to be flirting with her.

“I’m so sorry sir!”

Linda blushed redder than a jar of tomato sauce and looked away altogether, trying to fruitlessly cobble together an explanation.

“MettatonpushedmeinheretospeakwithSammyLawrencebutyouwerehereinsteadandyouhaveareallyprettyvoiceandimsosorry-”

“Wait, Mettaton sent you in?”

“Y-yes..?”

“And you’re looking for Sammy?”

“Yes?”

“Well why didn’t you say so sooner? What do you want to speak with me about?”

She went from bright red to white as a sheet as soon as that sentence left his mouth. Now that she thought about it, didn’t the local news channel say that the ink creatures could shape-shift? Oh god, this man was that gross slimy creature... The gross slimy creature that she kicked in the face with her high heels the second she saw it in person...

“N-nothing!”

She then ran out of the house as fast as her legs could carry her, jumped into her car, slammed down the breaks and sped as far away as she could. Once she was possibly miles away from everyone, she buried her face into the car horn and screamed.

Back at the haunted mansion, Sammy let out a long held sigh of relief.

“Thank fucking God she’s finally gone, just listening to that harpy’s voice makes me want to bash my head in against a wall.”

“Oh my...” The robot star half-dejectedly mused. “And here I thought the winds of romance would turn her cold, dead heart.”

“Mettaton, my standards might be rock bottom, but they’re not in the mariana trench.”

[bayern-moni]

Ship Asks: El Cid x Mine

Author's little den: This is dedicated to @lamaquego that 4 months and 10 days ago asked me to write for her a fanfiction about these two characters and how their "love story" would unfold in a less unforgiving AU than canon. I have to say sorry to you because I'm not able to fulfill that promise, I tried but in this period just can't bring myself to write anything more than these posts, which are a sort of relief for me. So, this is for you, in exchange for that fanfiction that, like that love story, never was. I really hope you can like it 😁

For all the others who just read this post, enjoy it and spread word of this nice ship 👍

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(AU: Mine lives after the Gaiden's events)

*

How would they describe each other to loved ones who haven’t met their partner yet?

El Cid: "She was a friend a long time ago. No, perhaps it was more than that. She was my favorite rival" (To Lacaille). Apart from that, don't be fooled by her elegant appearance, she was and still is an incorrigible pest.

Mine: The most stubborn man I have ever met! Although he seems quite intimidating at first sight with his sharp looks, he's quite funny to poke fun at. It was one of the few past times I had back then when the three of us lived together in that forest house.

(Don't trust if he says mean things about me, it's only envy)

How do they let their loved ones know they are dating?

They don't. Nobody cared if these two were comfortable enough to convey the news, because their "loved ones" just knew. Felser had called it since the very beginning and I mean it. Little Sasha had started sparkling with joy and didn't shut up about it for days, always trying (and failing) to stalk the couple. She was too happy that El Cid finally decided to have a life. Sisyphus became insufferable for the same reasons. Instead, the others never suspected anything: the doubt about capricorn having feelings at all was like a huge ham over their eyes.

Who still blushes when their partner compliments them?

You'd never guess it ;)

Who is most likely to check how their day is going?

When they were little kids training to reach the perfect blade, each in their own way, both often happened to forget about things like time etc... So the one that made sure nobody fainted from exhaustion was Felser. Then, growing up, the situation stayed the same got a little better. Now, Mine worked consistently less than him having left behind the obsession her dream had turned to, now she worked as sword-maker/sharpener in Rodorio -sometimes she even gave lessons to Lacaille-, but surprisingly El Cid is the one writing her more often asking for things like how the day at work is going, or just to hearing her complain about her clients. Mine writes more about the lines of "Did you remember to sleep this week between the trainings, you Spanish stakhanovite?"

(ok, the anachronism is necessary here)

Who gets jealous easiest?

None of them.

Who is the happy morning person and who is grumpy and just wants to go back to bed?

Starting from the fact that a "happy morning person" is more than not an aberration of nature (Kardia's words), the answer is that both are the grumpy type of morning people. Both Mine and El Cid are used to wake up to go and train at the crack of dawn since they were kids, but it doesn't mean they are happy about it. She is the one who complains loudly about it, but go ask Dohko what happens if he practices his new instrument at the early hours of the day. If you dare, I mean.

Who takes the longest to get ready and who is the most tidy and organised

Both are most tidy and organized, but El Cid reached a pathological level at it.

What annoys them the most about their partner? Would they change it if they could?

Mine is annoyed by his self destructive training schedule because she sees it is eating at him and plus they rarely get to spend a lot of time with each other because of it, but differently from Sysyphus and the others she does understand his motives and drive to become the holy blade himself. She literally consumed her whole soul for a similar goal, after all. She wouldn't change anything, though. Not even his emotional constipation.

El Cid could list a very long list of pranks that annoyed him. But nothing about her specifically. Only the fact that she let herself corrupt her noble dream in a demonic obsession. But he does not put it against her. It wasn't her fault, after all, she didn't want it, it just happened.

Who likes seeing the other wearing their t-shirt?

First of all, they don't even know what a t-shirt is. Secondly, she mostly wears women' kimonos (and quite revealing, now that we're at it), so I don't think it's a great mystery why they don't possibly exchange their clothes. Even if once Mine tried to bribe him during a bet, obviously, he vehemently refused and nothing could be done about it. Mine, instead, just doesn't like shirts.

Who plays pranks on the other?

Once, Mine used to sing in the shower with a very awfully shrieking voice with the sole goal of annoying his partner, who just happened to be a very light sleeper at the 3 am. Then, they were reported to the local police and she reluctantly stopped much to his relief.

Who says ‘I love you’ first?

El Cid. The trauma of seeing her revived as Phobetor's illusion and being forced to fight her to death broke every ounce of restraint left. As soon as they found each other again (because it's my AU and I can), that was the first thing he said. He couldn't take other blows on his too fragile heart. Risking waiting too much until she'd slip from his grasp again was out of question. By the way, he almost canonically said it in the end of the Gaiden so it's not too farfetched. She obviously understood this urgency and was delighted to declare that now they could really love and care for each other openly. In a real relationship. Then, she demanded a date, but this is another story.

Their reaction to the other beating them at something

Mine beats him at something: She gloats for the rest of the month, he's extremely annoyed and his pride battered, but he refuses to show it externally. If someone pokes him for it, though, he's met with a truly icy glare.

El Cid beats her at something: He looks like it couldn't go otherwise, Mine screams at him for a hour because he supposedly had cheated and then plans her revenge with Sasha. Because she embodies fair play.

Their favourite activity to do together

Talking about their shared dream and challenge each other at who reached the best results and showing their progresses.

The song that describes them the best

The Calling - Wherever you will go

Which one is most likely to get arrested?

Mine, definitely.

Who leaves notes written in fog on the bathroom mirror?

He's too mature for these things, she'd instead rather use more refined method of writing. Like a good old note written in bloodlike tomato sauce saying "Remember to go to the grocery store", or something like that, to make him have a heart attack in the morning. She says it wakes you up like nothing else. He just see them with a raised eyebrow.

One headcanon about this OTP that breaks your heart

Reality

One headcanon about this OTP that mends it (or the plot of the fanfiction I should've written but couldn't)

Mine doesn't disappear when Phobetor is defeated and the mirage of Catalania turns out to be just that, an illusion. Instead, she finds herself to have been really revived by the dream god's power, much to both her and his breathtaking happiness. It's something none of them even dared to dream, the possibility of having a future, even if the prospect of the Holy War still stood as a Damocles's blade on their neck. Lacaille just becomes their self-proclaimed adopted son, no matter how much El Cid protested that it was ridiculous (she supported him, btw). They arrive at the Sanctuary where she is immediately welcomed with a mix of curiosity and respect by most of its saints. Curiosity because nobody ever saw a Japanese woman and she not even was a saint. Respect because nobody in their right mind had ever imagined El Cid of all people bring a woman between them, so she had to be really special. However, she is friendly with everyone and soon becomes friend of Sysyphus (their favorite topic of complain about El Cid's habits) and then, the little Sasha when she was brought there a couple of years later. The girl was delighted to be with another woman, just like she was with Calbera. After the war, El Cid survives, always because I can, but he's affected in daily life by the loss of his dominant arm and just doubles his training schedule for making up to his handicap, although Mine herself often berates him for it worried about him. Sasha is deeply saddened to see his inability to adjust to a life that doesn't involve war and death and orders to both of them to go and live their lives together in any place they want, like free and ordinary people who deserve to live happily after all they were put through. Like she did with Yuzuriha and Yato in Jamir. Both understood it and tried to do their best to fulfill the goddess's wish, even if life isn't always without problems. They did manage to get a happy life together and that's what is important.

Asks weird questions in the middle of the night

Sysyphus. If it were a modern AU, he'd be the typical insecure friend who phones you at ungodly hours of the night to ask you advice about his problems. And El Cid would be the friend who at first would answer it (because it could be something important) and then leaving the phone in the fridge until the call expires. Mine just would be amused at their antics and frustrated her sleep was interrupted.

Who can't keep their hands to themselves?

Phantaso

What is the most embarrassing thing they have done in front of each other?

Ask Felser if you really want to know. It's your only hope, because their lips are sealed shut on mutual accord.

First impression of each other? Was it love at first sight?

Absolutely not (they both nod). When they first met they had a strange impression of each other, like the other was an alien, staring with a confusingly fascinated air that made Felser to chuckle, amused.

She was a Japanese little girl, so lithe and short that made people doubt she was that age, with strange red eyes that he had never seen before (he'd see them again only when Tenma'll cross his way). But after the initial surprise, he descovered she was a mischievous little pest, who loved getting him exasperated only for the satisfaction of snatching a reaction out of him, with the complicity of the oldest of them. But her dedication to her work as a sword sharpener was truly something to look up to. He really believed she'd manage to create the perfect blade infusing her soul in it, like he was trying to do to his body.

To her, instead, he had seemed like a little crow. A scrawny vampire-like-pallid kid with eyes too sharp and old for his age, too responsible and silent, the perspective of spending years training together seemed boring at the time. But his accent was funny, like he tried very hard to get rid of it and learning their common language, just the way she did with hers (in the meanwhile it was Felser who translated for them). As it was his grumpiness in the morning or the fact he was so unused to gentleness that the moment he received a good word or gesture immediately clung to it like a lifeline. But still, he was too rigid, even for her who was the same. A perfect Nagagire who needed her to enliven his brutal training sessions. After all, she's sure the best holy sword would be hers, but who says she can't have some fun in the process?

No, it definitely wasn't love at first sight. But despite the beginning, they gradually recognized in each other such a determination, a desire to go beyond their maximum limit, the same burning, inextinguishable, complementary dream both lived to fulfill (together, possibly) that attracted them like a magnet. The very Catalania was the tangible proof of that.

Does their work ever interfere with the relationship?

Read: Why do they need to have a serious chat?

[rainbowbeast-fr]

25 Unique Fish Dishes (for fish-eating dragons)

This is a portion of a descriptive list I’ve put together for myself for roleplay purposes, lore blurbs, etc. The original intent was to have a d100 list, but I ran out of steam pretty early on, haha. Thought I’d share it, just in case it proves helpful for anyone else! 

 Aether Gumbo: An iconic and heavily seasoned soup dish from the Crystalspine Reaches, it incorporates aether hermits, a type of magical crab native to Arcane waters, alongside a dark roux and a slew of herbs and vegetables. The arcane nature of the meat causes the gumbo itself to sparkle and shimmer. 

Harpy’s Roost Maeun-tang: This Wind Flight specialty is a spicy fish stew, utilizing anchovy broth, sea bass, and red chili pepper paste, alongside a wide variety of spices and vegetables, to create a soup that packs quite the punch! Servers will often allow customers to choose which fish will be cooked from a well-stocked aquarium.

Tiger Shrimp Bruschetta: This appetizer, consisting of freshly grilled bread with diced tomatoes, basil pesto, immaculately cooked tiger shrimp, and fresh mozzarella, is served at only the fanciest business parties in the Shifting Expanse, and is sure to please any Tempest Spire CEO. Now get back to work! 

Steamed Royals With Garlic Sauce: Royal oysters, hunted like truffles by trained amberwing waveskimmers, can turn quite the profit; not only are their pearls worth quite a bit, but when steamed and drizzled with a nice, buttery garlic sauce, they make for an excellent-- and pricey-- meal.

Popcorn Megashrimp: Popcorn megashrimp, made from skittering megashrimp breaded, fried in oil, and peppered with cajun seasoning, are perfect for those rare occasions during which the Colonel’s XXL popcorn shrimp buckets are simply not enough. 

Boston’s Devilsnap Chowder: Said to be a recipe originating from a dinner guest of the Lightweaver herself (perhaps even pilfered from her royal kitchens), this creamy chowder uses devilsnap clams, bacon bits, and a variety of veggies, alongside milk and flour (as a thickener) to create a meal that’s both filling and delicious. 

Nebula Float: Often served in a tall glass and garnished with a cherry, this drink consists primarily of a soft drink such as root beer or cream soda, and is topped with a nebula floater, a particularly sweet type of jellyfish. Especially popular on hot days in southern Sornieth. 

Emperor Roll: Named for one of the most fearsome beasts known to dragonkind, this delectable sushi roll calls for battered tempura shrimp, avocado, cream cheese, and spicy mayo. A plate of these is sure to keep any fish-eating dragon happy!

Angelspine Hors D’oeuvres: A small, savory delicacy consisting of raw, lightly seasoned angelspine meat, or uni. It has the texture and consistency of a firm custard, and is often served on platters at high-profile gatherings and dinner parties, where the urchin’s own golden quills are used in lieu of toothpicks. 

Sand Sucker Jelly: A seasonal treat from the Sunbeam Ruins and Shifting Expanse, these leeches only come to the surface during annual floods, after which many are caught, ground up, and fried into a savory paste. Often spread on toast or crackers for a quick (and tasty) snack. 

Tetra Tetrazzini: Diced ruby tetras imported from the Gladeveins, when tossed with forest mushrooms in a buttery cream sauce and splashed with a bit of sherry, make a fantastic topping for any pasta dinner. Top with almonds, fried onions, or breadcrumbs to really impress your date.

Drunken Scarlets: When not cracked over coatl tummies and eaten raw, scarlet mussels can be cooked in a flavorful white wine sauce for a quick and crowd-pleasing meal. Serve with a lemon wedge and grilled bread for extra class! 

Hand-Tossed Anchovy Pizza: Regardless of what other flights might say, nobody does pizza better than the dedicated chefs at the Emberglow Hearth. What could possibly be more delicious than a pizza with hand-tossed dough and freshly made sauce, cooked on an all-natural open hearth furnace? Adding anchovies fresh from the Blacksand Annex, of course. 

Star-On-A-Stick: A popular street food in coastal Fire Flight cities, vendors sell these deep fried starfish by the dozen on busy days. The crispy, oily exterior and soft, meaty interior are definitely an acquired taste if you’re not from the area. 

Fallen Star Soufflé: A savory soufflé made from whipped egg whites, white wine, roasted red peppers, and meat from the fallen star starfish, alongside other ingredients. The rarity of the fallen star, compounded by the difficulty of preparation, makes this quite the expensive treat. 

Tidelord’s Fingers: This traditional summer food from the Sea of a Thousand Currents is made from whitefish, which is battered and then deep-fried. While certainly not very healthy, they’re the favored snacks of many water-dwelling dragons. 

Snakehead Ehomaki: A maki sushi delicacy often eaten by Wind dragons at the start of spring. Though this recipe calls for a wide variety of potential ingredients, one should traditionally only fill the roll with seven. The golden snakehead eel is the central ingredient of this ehomaki. It’s considered especially good luck to eat this dish facing the year’s lucky direction. 

Ragesquid Calamari: Fried ragesquid is a staple of seafood restaurants all across Sornieth. However, their natural purple coloring oftentimes doesn’t survive the battering and frying process-- so chefs often use dye to give the calamari its distinctive purple color. 

Steppes Rangoon: These appetizers are a staple of Wind cuisine restaurants, despite not actually having originated from the wind flight. They consist of crab meat, cream cheese, and seasoning, which are then wrapped in a wonton wrapper and either fried or baked. 

Pickled Vampires: A favored snack from the Scarred Wasteland, plaguelings will often kill and ferment recently-fed wetland vampires, a type of leech, in a salty brine. They make for a satisfying, if bloody, treat. Non-plague dragons are noticeably less fond of these. 

Luminescent Caviar: Also referred to as “Glow Roe”, this food is scavenged or farmed from the bioluminescent fish native to the Tangled Woods. Though they’re not quite as flavorful as regular caviar, their aesthetic appeal ensures that this dish is just as, if not more, expensive. 

Black ‘n’ White Crab Cakes: Named partially for the Blacksand Annex and partially for the White Reaches crabs native to it, these pan-fried delicacies are served hot and are a favorite of many coatls. Add ashfall prickler hot sauce for an extra kick! 

Mirrorlight Anchoïade: This dip, at one time, was quite popular in the Sunbeam Ruins, though it’s since fallen out of style in favor of olive tapenade. It consists of filleted anchovies, olive oil, garlic, and white wine vinegar, alongside hints of lemon juice and other seasonings, and it makes for an excellent (though quite smelly) snack when paired with veggies or bread. 

Dumpling Squid Dumplings: A delectable treat consisting of ground dumpling squid and vegetable filling, wrapped in a thin dough, sealed, and then steamed. They’re especially delightful with a tangy sauce. Also referred to as jiaozi.

Glowstar Special: Because the Glow Star loses its luminescence the moment it leaves the water, this savory dish, consisting of smoked, seasoned starfish and kelp noodles, is prepared and served entirely underwater. This task becomes significantly more difficult when one is not in the Water Flight. 

[daisylincs]

12 + 80 for Staticquake?

12 = Roommates AU, 80 = Green-Eyed Epiphany 

Ahahah thank you so much, anon, I LOVE green-eyed epiphanies! I was actually hoping someone would send in a prompt like this, so big hugs to you. I hope you enjoy this!! 🤗

Daisy and Lincoln have been roommates for about eight years now, and it shows, in everything - like the way they know each other's routine so well by know that he'll yell "remember to put milk in the coffee maker first" from the shower when he hears her getting up, because he knows she's far too sleepy in the mornings to remember the quirks of their temperamental old coffee machine; and the way she'll leave him a sticky note on his stack of patient files for the day reading pick up Chinese for dinner, yeah? because she knows he'll pass right by that Chinese place they both love on his way back from the hospital; and the way he'll pick up all the socks and stray printouts she'll leave lying around, while she'll be busy fixing him a bowl of Ramen because she knows he'll have forgotten to eat on his shift. 

Daisy could probably have moved out years ago, technically, because her job at Shield Programming pays, like, off-the-books well. 

But she likes living with Lincoln, even though she stopped needing the money long ago. Besides, he's still finishing his residency, and she'd be a sucky roommate for ditching him now. 

She wouldn't mind staying like this for the rest of her life, actually. Jemma would roll her eyes, but Daisy maintains her point: they've got a good thing going here; the kind of steady, unquestioning friendship that can only form after years and years of knowing each other. 

And, you know, living in close proximity to each other for all those years. You stop being awkward around someone after about the fifth time you see them shirtless - after that, things are just good. 

As in, knowing-each-other-so-well-you-can't-imagine-a-life-without-them-in-it good. 

Daisy and Lincoln have so many inside jokes by now that nobody else can keep track of them. They've also picked up the habit of finishing each other's sentences - Daisy blames Fitzsimmons. 

But the best part about this is the blackmail material they have on each other. Like that time Lincoln forgot to do the laundry, and went around wearing her "Golden Girl" T-shirt for the rest of the day. (She has photos.) Or that time when she was having an impromptu singing concert to the tomato sauce in the kitchen, and he recorded it. 

They're so tight that pretty much everyone asks them if they're dating. Daisy and Lincoln are so used to it by now that they even have this whole elaborate story about an epic romance that failed because of dramatic and irreconcilable toaster preferences. 

But, really - them dating? Pffft. Don't be dumb. They just don't think of each other that way. 

They're both dating other people, for crying out loud! 

Well. Technically, they were both dating other people. Daisy and Grant (lying cheating asshole, she thinks automatically) broke up a few months ago, and Lincoln hasn't dated anyone in a while. 

But that's just because he's really busy completing his residency.*

She's sure he'll be bringing a girl around soon enough. 

The thing is, Daisy didn't expect to actually be right. She expected to be going around saying "oh, no, I'm sure Lincoln will find someone soon enough" for a long time yet. 

And it shouldn't, but it really bothers her. 

She didn't okay this new relationship. She didn't okay this girl. She didn't okay any of this! 

In some distant corner of her mind, she knows she's being utterly ridiculous. Lincoln is her roommate, not her dog. She doesn't get to okay this kind of thing in her life. 

But this girl. Oh, dear God, this girl. 

She's the worst - even worse than that Deke guy who keeps mailing her lemons, for some weird reason. 

I mean, she drinks her coffee wrong! All black and without even a drop of sugar. 

And she doesn't like Harry Potter! 

Every little thing she does is just wrong, wrong, wrong, and irritatingly out of place in her and Lincoln's routine. 

Plus, she's really not that pretty. At all. Daisy has eyes, she knows Lincoln can do better. 

When Daisy explains all of this to her, Jemma just gives her a long, flat look. "You're sure you're not jealous?" 

Daisy splutters, nearly spitting out her coffee (with milk and sugar, thank you very much, Alisha.) "Jealous?!?! Why the hell would I be jealous? What gives you that idea? There's nothing about this that says jealousy!" 

"I just think," she says, stirring her coffee, "that Lincoln can do better than that little weasel." 

Jemma's eyebrows fly up, and it looks like she's biting back a smile. "Weasel?" 

"Yes!" Daisy says emphatically, slamming her coffee down on the table. "She's all, that's so cool, Lincoln and your flat is so nice, Lincoln and I worship the ground you walk on, Lincoln. Weaselling. All. Of. The. Time."

"You've met her once," Jemma reminds her, looking more amused than ever now. 

Daisy scowls into her coffee. "That's more than enough, believe me."

 Jemma is wearing her deluxe uh-huh face. "You're sure you're not jealous?" 

Daisy glares at her. Is Jemma being deliberately obtuse? "Of course I'm not jealous! I'm just a concerned friend who knows he can do better." Obviously. 

Jemma mutters something that sounds oddly like what, like you? under her breath, but when Daisy narrows her eyes, she drops it. 

But the subject won't leave Daisy's mind. 

Not her nonexistent jealousy, of course. Don't be daft. 

Alisha. 

How she's ruining everything. 

How she keeps trying to get all of Lincoln’s attention. How she keeps putting stuff out of order in their flat. 

How she’s only been over once, but Daisy can already see that she’s just not right for Lincoln.

Speak of the devil! When she gets home, there's Alisha, sitting in her spot on the couch next to Lincoln. 

Daisy doesn't even think they hear her come in - Alisha's too busy laughing at one of Lincoln's jokes (probably one of those really-not-funny science puns he loves so much, she thinks, glaring) and Lincoln's got his arm slung around her shoulders. 

It makes her blood boil. 

That's her spot, there next to Lincoln. That's her spot, rolling her eyes and punching him lightly in the arm when he makes a dumb joke, not laughing like an idiot. 

That's her spot, not Alisha's. 

She belongs there. She, Daisy Johnson. 

And that's when she realises: she's jealous. 

She's completely, totally jealous. 

Jemma was right. 

(Well, no surprises there.) 

But the point is - she, Daisy Johnson, is completely jealous of her roommate's girlfriend. 

And she's not an idiot. She knows what that means. 

Well, shit. 

Her hands spontaneously unfreeze, and she drops her car-keys onto the floor with a loud clatter. 

Well, double shit. 

She curses under her breath as Lincoln and Alisha whip around, eyes widening at the noise. 

"Hey, guys," she says, in the most casual voice she can muster. Lincoln cannot know something's up - not until she's had the chance to figure out what exactly she's going to do about things.

Lincoln frowns. "Are you okay?" he asks, his blue eyes searching her face. 

Daisy plasters on her most convincing smile. "Of course I am," she says. "I'm just heading to my room now." 

Alisha nods, as though this is perfectly normal, but Lincoln's brow is furrowed. "Are you sure you don't want to stay and watch for a bit with us? You've seen all The Good Place, so I'm sure you could just drop in whenever -" 

"No," she interrupts, so sharply that he looks taken aback. "I mean, no," she says, deliberately softening her tone and adding a small smile. "I've got… stuff to do. Have a nice date. Binge-watch. Make-out session. Whatever." 

She wants to hit herself very hard on the head with a heavy object, repeatedly, because if that's not the most awkward rejoinder in the history of all rejoinders… 

She rushes across to her room, feeling her cheeks blazing, and praying to everyone who's listening that they leave her alone. 

Lincoln follows her, of course. 

"Daisy, you're not okay," he says, standing in her door with folded arms and a deep frown. 

"Get back to your date," she says, just a little hysterical, because honestly, she's just had a big revelation dropped on her head and absolutely no time to sort out how the hell she feels about it all. 

"Uh, no," he says, like it's obvious. "Alisha can wait. You're obviously not alright, and you're my friend, so -" 

Oh, he really shouldn't go about saying things like that. Her head is a total mess as it is - that's just going to make her think that he's implying that she's more important than Alisha. 

That is what he's implying, though, right? 

"Daisy?" he asks, taking a step towards her when she just stands there like an emotionally confused statue. 

She instinctively steps back, and oh, wrong move. 

They're roommates. They've never been shy with physical touch - she's fallen asleep on his shoulder too many times to count, and he's used her legs as a pillow about the same amount. They've held each other for nights on end when the nightmares come, or after breakups, and they hold hands when they can see the other one needs it. They bump shoulders, brush against each other, shove at each other and tug on each other's arms all the time. 

... In retrospect, she's feeling like a prize idiot for not realising she liked him till now. 

But. Anyway. Here she is, shying away from physical touch, which she never does.  

She sees the moment when he goes from "rightfully concerned" to "seriously worried," and it's right at that second. He takes her by the shoulders - gently, so she can still pull away if she wants to - and guides her to sit down on the bed. 

"What's wrong, Dais?" he asks, and his voice is so stupidly sincere she thinks she might lose her mind completely. 

He obviously cares so much. 

But just not in that way. 

"Daisy," he prompts, putting a gentle hand on her cheek to ground her, because he just knows she'll be getting dragged down in her thoughts. 

She’s just about to reply when Alisha yells from the living room, "Linc, are you coming?" 

And she can't be imagining the annoyance that flickers across his face. "Just a moment, Alisha," he says impatiently. "I'm busy." 

They hear a sudden clatter as Alisha stands up sharply. "Really, Lincoln?" she asks, and she's full-on yelling now. "Is Daisy really that much more important than me?" 

She doesn't give him the chance to continue, blazing on with her rant. "Well, I'm sick of it. All you can talk about is Daisy, and how smart and pretty and perfect she is. And you know what? I'm done. She's obviously the only one you'll ever have eyes for, and I'm really not in the mood to be stuck as your second-best for the rest of my life. That's it."

There's a shocked silence in the apartment for a full minute after Alisha slams the door, and her angry footsteps fade down the stairs. 

Daisy and Lincoln gape at each other for a minute, neither of them quite sure what to say. 

Then a thought - a memory that had been niggling at the back of her mind for the entirety of Alisha’s rant - pops up to the surface.

"You know," Daisy says, feeling as though something important has dawned, but not quite sure what it is, "that's exactly what Grant said. He said he cheated on me because, and I quote, he could never be the most important guy in my life." 

"Yeah, well, Grant is an asshole," Lincoln says immediately. 

"And Alisha's a weasel," Daisy counters.

His eyebrows fly up, and he looks so much like Jemma that Daisy wants to laugh. "Weasel?" he repeats. 

Daisy rolls her eyes - but she can't help but notice that Lincoln isn't looking nearly as upset as he should be. 

"Did she have a point?" she asks, dropping all jokery and looking seriously up at him. 

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Daisy…" 

"Does everyone have a point?" she interrupts, standing up so she's almost level with him. "Does everyone see something we don't?" 

Lincoln is frowning, obviously not getting it. “I don’t -” 

“Everyone always assumes we’re dating, or says we should be dating,” she cuts him off, quick and sharp. 

She takes a breath, channels May, and says it. "Are they right?" 

Lincoln's hand freezes in his hair. "What?" 

"Are they right?" she repeats, louder this time. 

His mouth drops open a little, and he closes it quickly when he realises. "Well," he says carefully, "we have known each other for eight years, and it’s only to be expected that we’d be close -" 

“I don’t care about what’s to be expected!” she cuts him off sharply. “I care about what’s true. For you, and for me.”

She’s slightly out of breath, and her gaze is locked on his, and she doesn’t think she could look away even if she wanted to.

“Do you think,” she says, “that they’re all right? That we’d work, if we were dating?” 

The question hangs in the air between them for a moment, crackling and intense. 

Then Lincoln answers simply, like it's the only answer there is: "yes." 

Because yes, it is the only answer there is. 

If they were dating, they would work. 

They already know each other better than anyone else in the world, and mean more to each other than, well, anyone else in the world. 

Grant and Alisha were sort of right, she realises. No relationship with anyone else could come close to what she and Lincoln have. 

They’ve always done things together, and she can see him coming to the same conclusions at the exact same time.

His blue eyes are wide as he meets her gaze again. 

“So,” he says slowly, and he sounds uncharacteristically uncertain, “what do we do now?” 

“Well,” Daisy says, just as slowly, but with significantly less uncertainty. She can already feel a grin beginning to tug up the corners of her lips. “You’re the one with the scientific mind, Mr Med Student. If there’s a theory, you need to -” 

“Test it,” he finishes for her, an answering grin playing on his lips. “You want to kiss me?” 

Daisy shrugs one shoulder, trying to ignore the sudden explosion of butterflies in her stomach. “Well,” she says, shifting closer so she’s inside his space, “there’s only one way to confirm this theory once and for all, isn’t there?” 

His gaze is soft as he looks down at her, so soft that she thinks she might melt into a puddle of mush. “I guess so.” 

And then he’s closing the last bit of distance between them, slipping his hand into her hair and gently tilting her head up, and she’s stretching up on her tiptoes and placing her hand on his cheek. 

They share a long, soft look - both of them with smiles still playing on their lips - and then her eyes are fluttering shut, and they’re kissing.

And if she thought she'd had good kisses before? Well. This is like nothing she’s ever experienced before.

She’s always known she and Lincoln work well together, but this is a whole new level. It’s like they were always meant to fit together like this. 

It feels like coming home. 

When they finally have to break apart for breath, Daisy opens her eyes to find Lincoln looking at her with a thoroughly shell-shocked expression. 

She can’t help but grin at the sight. “I think it’s safe to say the theory is proved,” she says, nudging his nose with hers.

He rolls his eyes, but there’s only affection in his gaze. “You think?” 

Daisy pulls back a bit to tilt her head, pretending to seriously consider it. “Actually, no, you know what? I think I’ll need some more proof.” 

He’s shaking his head, eyes full of fond exasperation, but he’s not complaining at all when she presses up on her toes to kiss him again. 

And if some tiny part of her had thought that first kiss was just a fluke... nope, that part was completely wrong. 

This is still the most incredible thing she’s ever felt. 

A sudden thought occurs to Daisy, and she has to stifle a small laugh against his lips. 

He quirks his eyebrows at her, keeping his forehead pressed against hers. "What?" 

"A week or so ago, Jemma was rolling her eyes at me when I said I wanted to be your roommate for the rest of my life," she says. 

Tilting her head, she smiles up at him, with the kind of absolute happiness you can only get in those rare moments when everything is exactly right. "And now," she tells him, "that's exactly what I'm going to be." 

His gaze goes all kinds of soft again. "That's what you think this is going to be? For the rest of our lives?" 

She doesn't even hesitate for a second. "Hell yeah." 

The End. 

*For those of you who, like me, didn't know until now, a residency is the period where someone studying to be a doctor works in a local hospital under supervision. It's a very important part of the whole becoming-a-doctor process, and forms the last 3-4 years of your studies. (Thank you very much to Grace for explaining this to me!! Fic writing has turned out to be ever such an informative process, it's honestly amazing.) 

Anywho, I hope you guys liked this bullet-point fic - it's definitely one of my favourites, and feels like a nice place to end the series.