#i guess i could run out and get some - i DO also need cumin

[andwhentheangelscome]

do you ever wake up and immediately your brain is like,

"i need pancakes to process today."

[cat-induced-fever-dream]

Acquaintances

Pairing: Wanda x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Description: Wanda meets someone who doesn’t treat her like a villain, but she doesn’t know who you really are.

Notes: I promise it’s fluff and not a trap. Also sorry about my hiatus, I’m just super unmotivated to do anything. So here’s my feeble offering to try and get back into writing.

- - -

Wanda groaned at the sight of a man with a camera. All she wanted was to pop down to the shops, buy some paprika, but alas, even a shopping trip was gold for the paparazzi. Maybe if she hid behind an aisle he would leave. But she heard the door open behind her. Ducking quickly behind a stack of tuna cans, she scanned the rows for the precious package.

She knew she wasn’t the favourite of the public, and the guilt of what she’d done ate her alive every night, but she was sick of being blamed. All she did was try her best, but this was the kind of thanks she got.

She frowned a little when she saw the man round the corner. She steeled herself, not wanting the tears to spring to her eyes. Turning around to face him, she- There was a person talking to him. You had a shopping bag in your hand, so you must have been another customer. Dressed smartly with a blazer, but paired with jeans and sneakers, you looked friendly, but the cold look you gave the man said otherwise. You exchanged words quietly with the reporter, and he seemed to refuse you, turning back to look at her. Realising that this was the perfect stall to get out of the store, she resumed her search. Cumin, Ginger, Paprika! Quickly glancing back to see how long she had, she saw you hand the man a business card as he hurriedly shuffled away.

“Sorry about that,” you turned to her, looking genuinely apologetic.

“Why?” she asked, it coming out harsher than she meant for it to. “It wasn’t even your fault.”

You shrugged. “You don’t deserve it.”

Wanda frowned again at this. She didn’t even know you, but you helped her out, so the least she could do was be polite. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” you smiled. The two of you started to walk towards to counter. More like she did and you kind of happened to as well. “What are you cooking with the paprika?”

Sliding the bag to the cashier, she turned to face you properly. “I was making a traditional Sokovian dish.”

“I’m a big fan of trying different cuisines,” you replied, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “That sounds delicious.”

Wanda’s not really sure why you’re trying to make conversation, but you didn’t seem to have an agenda, so she indulged you with a response as the two of you walked out of the store. “It is, my mum always had the best recipe.”

“Ah well, my parents weren’t around much, so I can’t say the same,” you laughed, throwing your shopping in the back of what must have been your car.

Wanda hadn’t even realised she had walked with you to your car. That was embarrassing. “Well, it was nice to meet you, but I should be going now,” backing away as quickly as she could without making a fool of herself.

“Wait,” you called, “do you need a lift back?”

“You’re a stranger.”

“Well I know your name is Wanda,” you grinned cheekily, opening the passenger door. “And my name is Y/N. Guess we’re not strangers anymore. So, what do you say? It’s the least I could do, with that man bothering you.”

She’s not sure what compelled her to agree, but she found herself sitting in a plush leather seat as you adjusted the rear view mirror. Tapping the dashboard screen, you pulled up a map to Avengers Tower and backed out of the parking lot.

You didn’t seem to mind that she didn’t make conversation, bopping your head gently to whatever pop song was on the radio. Instead she spent the time trying to figure out who you were and why you were being so nice. “It’s rude to stare, you know?” you winked at her.

Wanda felt the heat rush to her cheeks. “Wha- No, sorry,” she mumbled. She’d done it again, made herself look dumb. You giggle, returning your eyes to the road. Trying not to stare at you this time, she observed the fancy watch adorning your wrist, and the sleek interior of the car. You must be a businesswoman of some sort, since this clearly wasn’t your average suburban car. But you were wearing jeans. Maybe a lower level employee than?

She sat there musing, until the door suddenly opened. “We’re here,” you smiled, gesturing at the grand tower that was now her home.

Why couldn’t she stop being so awkward? This was the third time. Unbuckling the seatbelt, she stumbled out, clutching the paprika to her chest. “Thanks again.”

“Anytime, Wanda.” And with a small wave, you hopped back into your car and drove off.

- - -

Heading straight to her room, Wanda abandoned her plans for paprikash. The whole interaction was quite frankly, baffling. No one was ever nice to her, except for the Avengers. But you clearly knew who she was, driving her back to the tower without an address. Tossing her jacket on her bed, she sighed. It’s not like she’d ever see you again. That’s when she noticed the card peeking out from the pocket. There was a phone number printed neatly on it, and a cursive scrawl underneath. “I am actually interested in the dish though. Could I have the name of it?”

She hadn’t exactly interacted with anyone else, so it must’ve been you. Running her thumb over the ink, she was hit with a renewed sense of energy. Grabbing the paprika, she dashed back down the stairs.

- - -

You’re spinning around in your office chair when your phone goes off. Clicking on the message, a small smile makes its way into your face.

Unknown Number: this is the dish i was talking about

Unknown Number: *image*

Unknown Number: it’s paprikash

- - -

“Hey Wanda,” Tony called, a carefully wrapped package in his arms, “this came for you.”

One look at the scarlet wrapping paper, and she knew who it was from. “Thanks Tony,” she said, grabbing it and running to her room.

Setting the package gently on her bed, she untied the ribbon and unfolded the wrapping paper. Nestled in the middle, a box of cookies.

She grinned to herself. Wanda’s been texting you for a couple of months now, and now she could really say that you’re not strangers. She knows that you can’t cook, but you can bake. You’re a businesswoman “of sorts” you say, and that you’re a pretty busy person. But regardless, you hang out with her, chilling in the local coffee shop, going shopping, even just a stroll around the park. She also knows that this happiness she gets when she sees you is definitely not platonic.

Opening the lid, the chocolate aroma wafts into her room. Her favourite of your baked goods. There’s a note tucked into the side of the box, and she delicately pulls it out. “Be my girlfriend?” she read, the handwriting obviously yours. Wait. Be my girlfriend? She sat there dumbly for a couple of seconds before it hit her. You’re asking her to be your girlfriend. Wanda scrambled for her phone, snapping a picture to send to you.

Y/N: those cookies look delicious, who sent them?

The witch rolled eyes at your antics, but played along.

Wanda: idk, but i just got asked out

Y/N: whoaaaa, did you say yes?

Wanda: yes you dumbass

Y/N: okay, under other circumstances that would’ve hurt, but i’m too excited to care right now <3

Wanda: ...

Wanda: did you try to bribe me with cookies?

Y/N: it worked, didn’t it?

Wanda: i can’t believe i actually like you

Y/N: honestly, me too

Y/N: sorry it’s a busy day, but you wanna come over for dinner?

Wanda: sounds good <3

Y/N: i’ll come pick you up, see you then girlfriend

She didn’t want bugs in her room, so Wanda grabbed the box to put in her kitchen cupboard. Balancing a cookie in her mouth, she was about to close the lid, when a hand pinched one. Eyes immediately glowing red, she locked onto Sam as he backed away, half eaten cookie and hands up in surrender.

“Do that again and I will give you nightmares.”

The Falcon whistled lowly. “Okay. Protective over cookies. Got it.”

“There’s cookies?” Bucky asked, strolling in.

“No.”

“Oh okay.”

- - -

The heroes were sprawled on the couches playing a game of UNO when Wanda came down the stairs.

“What are you doing with that hoodie?” Tony asked sharply.

Wanda furrowed her eyebrows. “This.. hoodie?” she replied, tugging on the drawstrings of the soft item of company clothing she was wearing.

“Yes! That’s my enemy’s!”

She didn’t really want to get into whatever nonsense the genius was spouting again. “My friend lent it to me.”

“You have friends?” joked Sam.

Steve gave the man a warning look. “It’s good that you’re adjusting to life here.”

“I think the important question here,” Natasha said from her spot, “is where are you going?”

“Dinner,” she replied, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. She tried to fight the silly smile that crept into her face whenever she thought about you, but she mustn’t have hid it well enough, since the red headed spy gave her a sickeningly sweet smile.

I hate you, she projected.

Nat winked back.

“Based on the way Miss Maximoff keeps anxiously glancing at the door, there is likely to be someone waiting for her,” Vision piped up. “I have searched the Internet databases, and from what I have gathered, your casual outfit means that you are going with someone you are familiar with. The sharing of clothes is usually reserved for close friends or romantic partners only.”

Of course the android had to get involved.

“Your heart rate seems to be speeding up Miss Maximoff. Are you okay?”

“Wanda Maximoff,” Tony asked slowly, “do you have a boyfriend?”

That’s when all hell broke loose.

“Who is he?”

“Is he hot?”

“Where did you meet?”

“How did you even get a boyfriend?”

“Can we meet him?”

“What-“

“Okay,” she groaned. Well it was bound to happen eventually. She just wished she could’ve gotten even a few months without the teasing. “I have a girlfriend, yes she’s hot, yes I’m going to have dinner with her, and I’ll ask about meeting. I’m going to go now.” With that, she stepped into the elevator.

“Don’t think this conversation is over witchy,” called Tony, as the doors slid shut.

- - -

“Hey,” you smiled as she slid into the car. “What took you so long?”

“The Avengers found out.”

You chuckled at that. “What, did they interrogate you or something?”

“Something like that.” She paused. “They want to meet you.”

“Are you sure?”

“They’re my family, and they’ll love you as much as I do.”

“Cute,” you grinned, “but I don’t know about Tony.”

“Trust me, they’re a mess a lot of the time, but they’re good people.”

You checked through your phone. “I haven’t got anything on around lunch tomorrow. I can come by then, how does that sound?”

“So you’ll come?”

“Anything for my girlfriend.”

- - -

Her green eyes locked onto you amongst the bustle of suits in the lobby.

“Hey.”

You adjusted the grey fabric of your pantsuit. “Hey yourself.”

“Did you wear the suit to impress me?” Wanda asked, delicately tugging on your tie.

“Actually, I’ve got a meeting with the investors later. Gotta make an impression, you know?”

“Well consider me impressed,” she whispered against your ear.

Blushing, you allowed Wanda to lead you to the elevator.

- - -

Clint wasn’t sure what to expect with you. But if Wanda liked you, you were sure to be one of the good sorts. So maybe like a cute girl she met at the cafe or something. He sure as hell wasn’t expecting the confident girl dressed in a suit to step out of the elevator.

All of them were lined up in the common room and he’s pretty sure any normal person would have been intimidated by the sheer amount of Avengers in front of them, but you stepped up to them absolutely unfazed.

“Mr Rogers,” you offered your hand to shake, “a pleasure to meet you.”

Steve was expecting to have to take the lead with introductions, but here you seemed to be handling yourself fine. “Likewise.”

“Is Mr Stark here today?” you asked him.

“He’s a bit busy at the mo-“

Clattering and a string of curses interrupted him. And of course, the man himself stepped into the room, Iron Man debris in his wake.

“Tony,” Steve scolded.

“What? Did you think I’d miss meeting the girl who stole the heart of our cold antisocial emo?”

Wanda tossed a couch pillow at him, but he brushed it off.

“Tony Stark,” he declared.

You shook his hand politely. “I know who you are Mr Stark.”

“And you are...?”

“Y/N L/N.”

The genius might have been singed from his armour, but the moment that name fell from your lips, he yanked his hand away, as if he was burned.

“L/N. As in L/N Corporations?”

“That’s me.”

Abruptly he turned to Wanda. “Do you know who this is?” he hissed. “The greatest rival to Stark Industries. I thought you were introducing your girlfriend.”

You gave him a winning smile. “I am her girlfriend Mr Stark. And you may have made me your rival, but I can assure you that you are not mine.”

Sam snorted.

“What are you doing here then? Are you here to try and steal data? You can’t...”

You paid him no mind as you winked at Sam. Spotting the metal arm, your eyes widened. “You must be Bucky, right? Princess Shuri told me she’d been working on some vibranium projects. I’d love to take a closer look some other day if you don’t mind?”

“How do you know Shuri?” Stark spluttered.

“You think that she only talks to rich boys who need her help? Sorry to burst your bubble.”

Nat couldn’t help but smirk at this.

“Oh and I’ve actually been working on some prototype Widow Bites as a bit of a free time project,” you added. “If you’re interested, your opinion on usage would really help me to refine them.”

“Of course.”

“Traitor,” Tony glared.

It’s at this point your phone began to ring. Glancing down, you offered a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, I’ve really got to take this.” You turned to face the wall as your friendly tone turned professional.

The Avengers huddled together as your call went on.

“Is she using you for information?” Tony scowled.

Wanda scowled back. “She’s my girlfriend Stark. Not everything is about you.”

He looked as if he was going to say more, but Steve interrupted.

“Look Tony, she seemed like a perfectly lovely girl.”

“Yeah I like her,” added Sam. “She can keep your ego in check.”

“If Wanda likes her, I’m fine with it too.” Clint said.

Wanda gave him a thankful look.

A cough came awkwardly behind them.

“I really hate to cut this short everyone, but something’s come up back at the office. Investors are a pain.”

“Yeah go on back to your investors then,” spat Tony.

“Wow” you drawled, heading back to the elevator, “is the rich card the only thing you can play Stark?”

The light on the wall indicated that the cab had arrived, and you stepped inside the carriage which would take you back down, as Peter stepped out.

“Oh hey Y/N, what are you doing here?”

“I was just leaving Pete, but swing by later, alright?”

“You know it.”

“Oh and I heard you liked the hoodie I gave Wanda, Mr Stark,” you called. “I can grab you one as well, since it’s my company. But I really do gotta run now. Nice to meet you all!” The metal doors slid shut on your grinning face.

There was a silence, before Tony turned on his protégée. “How the hell are you on a first name business with her?”

“We’re friends?” Peter offered.

“Friends?”

“She went to college with me. She was super smart and we hung out and stuff. You know, what friends usually do.”

Squirming under his mentor’s gaze, he continued. “She was too smart for college though, so she dropped out and started her company. It didn’t mean we stopped being friends though.”

“Why didn’t you tell me Underoos?”

“She figured you might overreact, especially with the web sho-“ The boy’s eyes widened, and he made a mad dash for the stairs.

But Tony grabbed his wrist. “What were you saying?”

Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair anxiously. “She helped me out with my web shooters in college, and since then, she’s been developing them with me.”

“What?”

“She knows I’m Spider-Man and I work with her on my tech,” he said slowly.

The man surveyed his teammates, making deliberate eye contact with each and every one of them. “Traitors, the lot of you,” he huffed.

“I mean you gotta admit it,” laughed Sam. “She’s college age, and built an empire to rival you. Not to mention that she’s pretty, smart, has better PR and actual time management skills-“

“Okay I get it,” the genius cut him off.

“Don’t be upset,” Clint smirked, “you can’t lose if you’re not her competition.”

Tony stomped off.

“Don’t worry about him, he’ll come around,” Steve said gently, nodding at Wanda who was fiddling anxiously with her rings.

“She was cool,” added Nat. “Tony can be a pain in the ass, but he knows she’s a good person.”

Her phone buzzed in her hand.

<3: i’d say that went pretty well

Wanda: cannot believe you didn’t tell me

<3: i’m really sorry babe, please don’t hate me

Wanda: i could never

<3: just didn’t want him to stop you from fraternising with the enemy or whatever

Wanda: i’d break the rules for you any day

<3: how romantic

<3: so miss rebel, you coming over tonight?

Wanda: depends if you’re still wearing the suit

<3: anything for you ;)

[mycouchpullsoutbutidont]

Need to write all this down because I just stared into space for a solid 30 min just dreaming about this scenario / potential fanart comic that I could draw of Ben x Devi (I’ve been obsessing over them for the past couple of days and it’s probably due to me not having good dick since god knows forever)

(Draft)

So the comic will start off with Devi being sort of upset and horny, reminiscing about her interaction with Paxton - maybe a really hot makeout sesh and they’re about to have sex - except last minute, Devi gets cold feet and it’s sexually frustrating for Paxton. So Devi is hella embarrassed and mad at herself for pulling back. She tries to initiate again, but Paxton is just like, “forget it, you’re not ready,” and Devi is like “no, I want it.” And Paxton pauses, looks at her, and shakes his head like “no, you’re not. It’s okay. I don’t want you to feel pressured to do something you’re not ready for.” Which Devi feels insulted by and is terribly sorry. Paxton just smiles and kisses her on the forehead and is like, “I think I should drop you off. It’s getting late.”

End daydream. Devi reels in secondhand embarrassment and is mad at herself for stopping. She vows not to do that again and, of course, in typical Devi fashion, she thinks to herself, “well, if we end up having sex the next time we makeout, I better do my due diligence and research into how to properly have sex.”

And what other way to learn about something than to study up on it?

She begins thinking about how she could do her research. She’s studied anatomy before and knows the basics - the testicles, the glans, urethra, sperm, prostate, yadda yadda. And she’s taken health class and sexual education on how to put on condoms (on bananas- nonetheless - San Fernando valley had pretty liberal sex ed).

But she’s never seen what sex looked like. Never heard it. Never smelled it. Never experienced it from afar or visually.

That’s when she thought of it - porn.

She goes to her room, opens up her laptop, and googles “porn.” Search results pop up, and she catches glimpse of some of the keywords.

“Perky oiled brunette shoves two cocks in both holes”

“Slut sucks slobbers on big veiny dick”

“Curvy sexy ebony rides and squirts before getting facial”

The ache in her groin gnawed even more and—did she just twitch down there? With her blood rushing to her cheeks and between her legs with each horny, perverted word that her eyes came across, her fingers tremble and her body - her breasts - feels like it’s tingling, aching and needing to be roughly handled.

Nervous and horny, she clicks on the first one: porn hub.

She enters a site of orange and black - a pop up window asks if she’s 18 or older. She hesitates, feeling dirty and corrupt. She clicks on enter.

Squares of images lined in a grid populate, organized by category. She skims the words - “Anal”, “BBW,”“Cumshot,” “Compilations”—the list went on and on.

One of the categories catches her eye: “Desi.”

It was both laughable and eye-opening to see that category. A category just for Indian women? She was both amazed and flattered, and for just a brief moment, she wondered if her ancestors could see her.

Her father, she thinks.

Oh god, why is she thinking of him all of a sudden.

Ashamed, she shakes her head, exits out of the window, and closes her laptop. A cool chill runs down her spine, calming her excitement, chilling the pulsating heat that had pooled between her legs. She’s embarrassed for thinking of her dead father and for even thinking of looking up porn. She’s ashamed and pushes her laptop away, now doubly frustrated at herself and for still being sexually pent up. She gets up to grab water in the kitchen, hoping the ice cold water will help temper her aching need.

The doorbell rings.

Devi’s ears perk, and she furrows her brows. Who could this be, she thinks, as she ran down the stairs, walking to the door to peep through the hole.

She gasps, “oh crap.”

It’s Ben!

“Shoot, I forgot!”

Ben was supposed to come over to work on a history project with her - and have dinner, she remembers, since she told her mom and her mom insisted.

“Ah, yes Ben! I remember that boy with the massive pimple on his face who cried in my office!” Devi smirks at Nalini’s comment but then remembers, dammit, why did her mom also want him for dinner?

She opens the door, deepens her frown, a blush creeping on her face as she locks her brown eyes with light blue ones.

“Sup, loser,” Ben says, and Devi almost loses her blush except he smirks, a twinkle in his eye, and a slightly lifted brow. Devi’s eyes trail down over his shirt which clings to his pecs and biceps, and she feels the blush coming back.

And then she notices his strong arms and hair and veins—

“Fuck you,” she says, rolling her eyes, quickly turning her back against him so he doesn’t see her blush harder.

Jeez, what’s wrong with her today? Devi thought (as well as Ben). Why was she so god damn horny?

“What’s your problem, David?” Ben asks. He looks around Devi’s living room. “Where’s your mom?”

Devi shrugs. “Probably at work with her coworkers. Mom’s trying to bring more fun and benefits to motivate them, she claims.”

“Ah, that explains it.” Ben is a little relieved since Devi’s mom was a tough one to please. But, he knew that Nalini had a soft spot for him. (Or, at least he had a 95% confidence level in that thought).

“Actually, kanna, I’m just finish up cooking dinner here with Kamala,” Nalini chimed.

Ben and Devi snapped their heads towards the direction of the kitchen where Nalini and Kamala were cleaning up.

“And if you had helped me like you should have done, you’d know that I was busy cooking up aloo gobi dosas before leaving for my work event later tonight.”

Ben sniffed deeply, the aroma of ghee and asafetida and cumin wafting in the air. How did Devi not notice her mom was cooking with the delicious smells dancing in her home?

“S-sorry mom, I forgot. I just have been feeling a bit out of it today,” Devi replies sheepishly. “Kind of feel hot.” Which was true. Something was terribly wrong with her today for some reason. It felt like there was this growing ache down in her groin that needed to be filled, and with each step she took, every friction against her clit would send shivers of pleasure all over her body.

Before Ben could react, Nalini immediately runs to Devi’s side and places the back of her hand on Devi’s forehead.

“Hm,” Nalini scrunches her brows. “I don’t feel a fever, but you do have a slight blush. Devi, if you’re feeling sick, please don’t get us all sick and go to your room. You should’ve told us and Ben earl—“

“I’m not sick!” Devi blurts, shaking her head. Nalini is taken aback.

“I- I guess,” Devi lowers her voice, trying to come up with an excuse for why she was dickstracted—er, distracted.

“I feel burnt out from studying for AP physics and AP calculus this week,” Devi lies.

“Amateur,” Ben scoffs, smirking. He looks at Devi who snaps to look, looking both mad and flustered, her cheeks tinted slightly redder than normal. It was enough to wipe the smirk off his face. Was she okay?

“I’m not letting you show me up, you jerk!”

Yeah, she was okay, he thought.

“Devi!” Nalini’s jaw fell and she looked like she was about to chew Devi’s face off which terrified Ben.

“N-no, sorry Ms Vishwakumar, that was totally my fault and uncalled for,” Ben cuts in. He looks at Devi who still looks mad at him (but less so, maybe a bit of relief).

“Would it be all right if we study first and then eat dinner?” Ben asks, not sure whether to direct the question to Nalini or Devi first.

“Dinner will get cold,” Nalini warns. “But, I must leave now, so you two can do what you will and whatever regarding dinner.” As she runs towards the door and grabs the keys, Nalini whips her head back and stares daggers at Devi.

“Devi, behave please,” she says through gritted teeth before shutting the door.

Devi sighs in relief and turns to Ben.

“So,” she says, heading towards the stairs. “Let’s get moving. We don’t have much time before dinner gets cold and it’s bedtime.”

Ben nods, walking behind under her. He looks up - damn she has a nice ass - curvy and round. He notices she is wearing a pretty short skirt, and—was that…

Ben blinks twice in disbelief, looking away before looking again. It was no doubt what it was—sticky wet lubricant-like liquid. Running down her inner thigh. Or maybe that’s sweat, he told himself.

Ben blushes. Wow, he felt like such a pervert for staring up her skirt. That and they were going up to her room. To study. Yeah.

(But damn her butt, her curves)

As they enter her room, Ben immediately plops down on the floor, opens his bag quickly, pulls out his AP European history book and notebook, and opening them and flipping through pages (nervously?) and quietly.

“Dude, you’ve been eerily silent this entire time,” Devi torts, and she can’t blame him, can’t blame how nerve wracking it was to have your chiseled (wait shut up Devi) arch nemesis in her room - supposedly a safe haven - to study. Come to think of it, why did she let him in her room? She began to regret her decision, especially when she realized that her nervousness was also turning into heated excitement, her breasts were tingling with desire and even her clit—

“You said you wanted to hurry, so here I am, focused, David,” Ben snaps. He ignores the fact that she’s not wearing a bra and that her tank top isn’t enough to hide her hardened nipples.

(Her cleavage looked so inviting, he dare not stare too long at her tits)

“Actually, for once, you didn’t use your brain and suggest we work downstairs and eat dinner simultaneously instead,” Devi retorted. “Let me just grab my laptop and we can go back downstairs to study and eat dinner at the same time.”

“Don’t put the blame on me for your lack of brain usage,” Ben snapped back, rolling his eyes.

Devi throws a stuffed animal at his head, and he barely dodges it.

“Asshole,” she mutters as she gets on her knees and reaches over her mattress and duvet, grabbing her Macbook.

That’s when Ben saw her soaking wet panties.

Heat rushed from his head to his other head, his cock jumping.

Holy fuck, he thought, is she doing this on purpose? Why did she have to put her ass up like that? Was this intentional? This was a little too cliche, he thought, and porn-like. Girl wearing no bra and apparently soaking wet invites horny boy over to her room and puts her ass in the air while in bed?

“Uh, yeah, yep, sure, that’s probably a better idea,” Ben stammers, trying to ignore his growing boner and grabbing his books. “Lemme just stuff—“

(Those boobs)

“—these boo….ooks. Books. In my bag.” He pushes the last book in his backpack and zips it up.

Oh dear god, did she notice his almost Freudian slip?

He glances over at her, and she’s got a raised brow. “Uh, okay, weirdo, did you just almost say boobs?” Devi says.

“What, no?” Ben says. “You weird pervert.”

“Don’t lie! I saw you staring at my boobs! You’re the pervert!”

“What kind of crap are you projecting onto me for? I’m innocent!”

“You’re like the least innocent person I know!”

“That’s definitely not true,” Ben scoffs. “And even if it was, it’s better than being an Unfuckable Nerd.”

That did it. That was the straw on the camel’s back. Devi was enraged, insulted, and sexually frustrated. Ben had dug into a deep insecurity of hers, a wound that she desperately wanted to heal and prove herself out of. For all her life, she had never felt desirable, never had a boy flirt with her or ask her out or even given her attention. When Ben first called her an “Unfuckable Nerd,” she didn’t show how painful the sting of his insult was to her lonely heart. She did not want to be the forever nerdy virgin who was seen as sexually undesirable and —god forbid—ugly.

(Was that why Paxton pushed her away, she thought briefly?)

“Shut up!” she yells before chucking her laptop at him. She misses by a meter (thank god her eye hand coordination was god awful), but she’s not sure if she was even intending on hitting him with the laptop. Still, the moment the laptop flew out of her hands and onto her carpeted floor (with a nice thud), Ben knew he had made a huge mistake. And so did Devi (though she dare not be the first one to admit that she was wrong).

Except she was really wrong this time.

“Devi!” Ben exclaimed. “I’m—“

“Oh fuck Ben, I’m—“

“So sorry.”

Both Ben and Devi apologized simultaneously, with heavy regret and a tint of fear in their voices.

“N-no, I crossed the line, Devi,” Ben said. “It’s really…misogynistic and objectifying of me to call you Unfuckable.”

Because you’re quite the opposite, he thought.

Devi acknowledged internally the apology, but it still stung painfully in her heart. She wanted to let him know that it still hurt.

(Especially hearing that term from him).

Still, she knew she was also incredibly at fault for almost injurying Ben.

“I’m also sorry, I really…really should’ve not thrown my laptop at you. I could’ve injured you really badly.” Devi dropped down to her knees, getting down to Ben’s level since he was still on the floor, a bit shaken by her throwing her laptop at him.

“I guess I deserved it,” he said. He looked over at the laptop on the ground.

“But if you did break it, don’t expect me to pay for a new one,” he said with a smirk.

Devi rolled her eyes. “I’m not your sugar baby; I wasn’t expecting you to pay for a new one.” She crawls towards her MacBook (Ben consciously looking away since she’s on her knees again) and opens it, praying to herself that it was still functioning.

She tapped on her keyboard multiple times.

Blank screen.

“Oh fuck,” she whispered. She kept tapping on the keys of the keyboard.

No response.

“Crap!” Devi hissed. “Oh no, no no no!” She was sort of panicking. “I knew this would happen.”

“So why did you throw the laptop then?” Ben slyly asked.

“Not. Helpful. Ben.”

Ben scoots closer to Devi, wraps his arm around her—

Devi is shocked, his graze making her melt into his touch, sending the pent up frustration and heat back to her ache and pussy—

But, Ben was only merely reaching around to press down on her laptop’s button for a couple of seconds before the lock screen shone back on.

Oh, Devi thought, a feeling of defeat and disappointment settling in her chest. He wasn’t hugging her.

But, hey her laptop’s alive.

“Oh thank god,” she says, breathing a sigh of relief before turning to him - wow he’s somehow pretty close to her face and body and oof, his proximity sets a fire across her entire body —

“Consider yourself lucky. Looks like you don’t have to buy me a new laptop,” she says, smirking.

Ben scoffs.

“In your dreams, David.”

Oddly enough, Ben’s arm is still wrapped around her, his presence warm and enveloping. Devi is tempted to lean into it but knows better (especially not now when she has been hot and bothered all day).

She types her password in her Lock Screen, hits enter, and gasps in horror as she realized that she didn’t properly close out her browser full of porn -

(which is now blasting moans of cam girls fucking the selves with sex toys all thanks to livejasmin)

“Oh shit!” Devi immediately slams her screen shut again.

But it was too late.

Ben’s brows shoot up, eyes widening and jaw dropping in guffaw. A laugh of disbelief escapes from his throat.

“Holy crap! And you called ME the pervert?” Ben laughs. “Who’s the pervert now?”

But damn, wow, he’s turned on.

He tightens his arm around Devi in a proper hug now, pressing her closer to him, and leans in, an inch from her ear, whispering —

“You’re a dirty girl”—

Before pressing his lips on hers.

[prouvaireafterdark]

Appetite

Here’s my Malex Secret Santa gift for @djchika, who asked for some domestic Malex with one of them teaching the other how to cook! I hope you like it, Deej!

Also on AO3!

***

“Hey, Alex?”

“Yeah?” Alex asks without looking up. He’d moved his laptop to the kitchen table at Michael’s request, but he still has a little work to finish before he’s free for the evening.

“Can you grab me the cumin from the spice cabinet?” Michael asks, and when Alex tears his gaze away from the screen, he sees Michael staring back, head turned over his shoulder to look at him as he stirs a pot of something on the stove that smells absolutely delicious.

“Sure, one sec,” he says, typing the last few lines of code as quick as he can.

When he’s done, he shuts his laptop and sets it to the side before straightening up and heading to the spice cabinet. He digs around a little, shifting bottles here and there to try to find what Michael needs, but he comes up empty.

“Bottom left, behind the paprika,” Michael supplies helpfully after a minute of Alex’s fruitless shuffling.

Alex looks over and sure enough, there, behind the paprika, right where Michael said it would be, is the cumin. He isn’t sure when exactly it was that Michael made the transition from feeling like he wasn’t welcome to stay the night to being intimately familiar with the inside of his spice cabinet, but the fact that he feels so at home in Alex’s space makes affection bloom warm in Alex’s chest as he plucks the bottle off the shelf.

“Thanks,” Michael smiles when he hands him the bottle, and Alex is helpless against the impulse to lean in and kiss him.

Michael welcomes the kiss without hesitation, humming softly against his mouth as he turns to face him more directly, the bottle of cumin still gripped between his fingers. Alex smiles, a little smug that he’s able to steal Michael’s attention so easily even when he’s in the middle of something.

It’s not until he feels the tip of Michael’s tongue flick against his bottom lip that Alex pulls back, not so eager to be the reason Michael burns whatever he’s cooking when they inevitably drive each other to distraction.

“Any time,” Alex says when he’s managed to put a few inches of space between them.

Michael blinks at him, his brain taking a moment to come back online, before he huffs a laugh, shaking his head.

“Tease,” Michael accuses lightly, and Alex rolls his eyes affectionately even as he steps behind him and wraps his arms around his waist.

“I don’t think I’ve earned that title,” Alex tells him in a low voice, lips barely an inch from the shell of Michael’s ear. “Not yet, anyway.”

Michael groans softly at the thought and Alex can’t help but chuckle and press a fleeting kiss to his cheek.

“Are you done with work?” Michael asks, leaning back against his chest a little in a way that makes Alex feel warm and protective. He knows it’s impractical, but he could hold Michael like this all day.

“Mhmm,” Alex hums. When Michael doesn’t say anything else, Alex hooks his chin over his shoulder and watches as he adds some cumin to the ground beef browning in the pot, not bothering to measure it. “What are you making?”

“Chili,” Michael answers, stirring the meat to incorporate all the spices. “You want to try some?”

Alex’s stomach growls audibly at the question, making them both laugh.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Michael says, and after a moment of more stirring to make sure the beef is all browned, Michael reaches into the cutlery drawer to his left and takes out a clean spoon without looking. He dips it into the pot, scoops out some seasoned ground beef, and feeds it to Alex over his shoulder.

Alex can’t suppress the pleased sound he makes when he tastes it. The beef is delicious—savory and a little salty with a strong kick of spice that lingers on his tongue.

“What do you think?” Michael asks, twisting in his arms to try to see his reaction.

“It’s really good,” Alex tells him, and he doesn’t need to see Michael’s face to know he’s warming under his praise, but it’s always nice to watch it happen anyway. If Michael isn’t careful, Alex will need to kiss him again.

“How’s the spice?” Michael asks. “I could add some more jalapeños before I add the rest of the ingredients if you want.”

“No, the spice is perfect,” Alex insists.

Michael beams at him before he turns back to the pot. With one parting peck to the back of Michael’s head, Alex steps away and gives him some space to work, leaning casually against the side of the fridge while he watches Michael push the spices toward the back of the counter and start assembling the remaining ingredients.

“How’d you get so good at this anyway?” Alex wonders as Michael squeezes in some tomato paste, once again without needing to measure it.

“What?” Michael asks, eyes on the pot while he mixes it in.

“Cooking,” Alex explains. “You’re so confident you’re not even following a recipe.”

“Yeah, I am,” Michael says, and Alex hasn’t seen a piece of paper or anything lying around with instructions on it, so Michael must have just memorized it, which is… not surprising for Michael as much as it is crazy for Alex to imagine doing himself. “I’m just… being creative in my interpretation of it.”

“So…” Alex starts, cocking his head, “you looked at the ingredients and now you’re winging it?”

“A bit, yeah,” Michael admits.

“Damn,” Alex says with the gravity that deserves.

“It’s really not that impressive,” Michael insists.

“Improvising a dish you read the ingredients for one time isn’t impressive?” Alex asks incredulously.

Michael is silent a moment while he thinks about it.

“I don’t know, I guess I’m just used to it,” Michael says at last. “I didn’t exactly have a recipe book growing up, so I’d just do the best I could with what I could get my hands on, which didn’t always turn out so good.”

“Yeah?” Alex asks, curious to hear more.

“Mhmm. Learned the hard way not to use ketchup as a replacement for tomato sauce.”

“Oh my god,” Alex says, pulling a face at the thought of pouring a squirt of Heinz over some pasta.

“Yeah,” Michael laughs. “Not my finest moment.”

“Did you cook a lot when you were younger?” Alex asks, surprised he’s never heard about any of this before. In high school and that summer that followed it, he and Michael would usually meet up either in the afternoon when Alex had to be home by dinner, or far later when Alex could sneak out in the middle of the night, so food wasn’t really something they’d shared or talked about a lot.

“Depends where I was,” Michael answers. “The addicts never had any food to cook and the Fundamentalists were big on ‘family dinners,’ but cooking was ‘women’s work’ so I wasn’t allowed in the kitchen. When I was on my own though, I bought what was on sale or, well—” Michael cuts himself off, shifting his eyes in Alex’s direction before he sighs and says, “Let’s just say I had to get creative with my ingredients for a while in more ways than one.”

“You don’t have to talk in euphemisms, Michael,” Alex tells him kindly, reaching out for his hand. “I know you did what you had to do to survive. I’m glad you did,” he says, and he means it. He might have been judgmental about Michael’s criminal history at first, but they’re a long way from that disastrous evening at the Drive-In.

Michael tangles their fingers together and squeezes once, his smile a little brittle.

“Anyway, yeah,” Michael continues, “once I got access to a fire pit I was actually able to teach myself how to cook.”

“Wait, seriously?” Alex asks, eyebrows lifting in sudden surprise. “The fire pit?”

Now it’s Michael’s turn to look confused.

“Alex, I’ve made you dinner on the fire pit like a hundred times,” Michael says.

“No, I know, it’s just—“ Alex pauses, searching for the words. “I guess I never thought that that was how you learned how to cook.”

“Well, Sanders let me use his kitchen sometimes too,” Michael says.

“Right,” Alex nods. Michael’s mentioned before that Sanders is the reason why his omelets are nearly as good as Arturo’s. “So after cooking like that for so long, winging it is easy?”

“I guess, yeah,” Michael shrugs. “And, really, at the end of the day, cooking’s just chemistry—except things don’t generally explode as much when you mess up.”

“Mm, I don’t know about that,” Alex disagrees. “You should’ve seen me try to make brownies when I was a kid.”

“That bad?” Michael cringes.

“Oh yeah,” Alex answers. He’ll never forget that icy chill that ran down his spine when he’d seen what he’d done to the inside of the oven. If it wasn’t for Greg’s help cleaning everything up before their father got home, Alex probably would have been torn to pieces.

“Well, if you were making brownies, that’s baking. Cooking’s much more forgiving than baking,” Michael says. He gives Alex an assessing look before he says, “Come here, I’ll show you.”

Alex hesitantly closes the short distance between them, helped along by Michael tugging him by the hem of his shirt.

Michael must catch the reticence on his face because a second later he says, “Oh come on, you got this. I’ll talk you through it.”

“If you say so,” Alex sighs. “What do you want me to do?”

“Well, you can start by opening the cans of crushed tomatoes and kidney beans,” Michael says.

Alex laughs. “Okay, I think I can manage that.”

In the time it takes Michael to run to the fridge to grab a bottle of beer and an opened container of beef broth leftover from the stroganoff he’d made the other day, Alex is already done.

“Do I add all of it?” Alex asks, holding the can of beans over the pot.

“Not those yet,” Michael says. “They need to be drained and rinsed. Do you know where the colander is?”

That Alex does know—he may be culinarily challenged, but he’s got his shit together enough to know how to boil water and follow the directions on a box of Kraft like every other red-blooded American.

He fishes it out from the cabinet under the counter in front of him and takes it to the sink along with the can of beans.

“So I just toss them in the colander and rinse them?” Alex double-checks.

“Yup!” Michael answers, upending the bottle of beer over the pot for a few counts before taking a long drink. “Bring ‘em over when you’re done.”

Alex rinses the beans thoroughly and shakes them over the sink to get rid of the excess water before carrying the colander back over to where Michael is standing by the stove. There’s a cutting board set up with a knife and two green bell peppers when he gets there. The can of crushed tomatoes he opened is already empty, so Michael must have tossed that in too while he was waiting.

“Do you want to dice the peppers?” Michael asks.

“Um,” Alex says, looking at them suspiciously. “Sure?”

“Here, I’ll do one and you can do the other,” Michael says, stepping in front of Alex to get at the cutting board. “Just watch what I do.”

Alex stands at his side and watches intently.

“You’ll want to start by cutting the stems and the bottoms off,” Michael tells him as he slices them off one of the peppers. “Then you should slice it down the middle and remove the seeds and this white stuff inside.” Michael runs his knife along the inner flesh of the pepper, cutting away the white until there’s nothing but green. “And now we can dice it.”

Michael cuts the pepper into strips and then pushes them together horizontally so he can dice them with another swift pass of his knife, leaving the pepper in uniform squares.

“Okay, now it’s your turn,” Michael says, moving aside so Alex can take his place.

Alex picks up the knife and follows Michael’s instructions. He thinks he’ll be able to manage it okay, as long as he doesn’t let Michael’s gentle encouragement in his ear distract him too much—He knows his way around a knife after all, albeit in very different circumstances.

He’s doing fine until he gets to the actual dicing part. His fingers can’t seem to keep a steady enough grip on the pepper strips to make the kind of uniform cuts that Michael had been able to execute.

“Hang on,” Michael murmurs, and a moment later Alex feels him warm and solid against his back.

Alex swallows as Michael’s palms travel down the length of his forearms, not stopping until he covers Alex’s hands with his own. He feels caged in like this, pressed up against the counter a little, Michael’s breath fanning over the back of his neck, and suddenly Alex’s thoughts are very far away from the chili he’s supposed to be helping Michael make.

“You want to let the knife do the work here,” Michael tells him, grabbing Alex’s attention once again. “It’s sharp, it’ll slice through it much easier if you don’t add so much pressure.” He guides Alex’s hand as he slices through a row of peppers, the motion much smoother now. “See? Much easier that way. Now try it on your own.”

Michael drops his hands to rest on Alex’s hips as he watches over his shoulder. Alex tries not to be distracted by the way his fingers are edging up under the hem of his shirt, the way Michael’s low hum of approval when he passes the knife over the peppers again makes his heart beat faster.

He thinks he has it handled until Michael drawls in his ear, “Perfect. Just like that, Alex. Nice, even strokes,” and Alex nearly chops his own finger off.

“Michael,” he says sharply, head spinning a little.

“Hm?” the bastard hums lazily, like he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“Are you fucking with me?” Alex asks, and he can feel Michael’s chest rumble with laughter against his back.

“Not yet,” Michael says, nuzzling into the side of his head a little to press a kiss over his pounding pulse, and Alex has to let go of the knife before he really does hurt himself.

He can feel Michael smile against his neck when he takes a deep, calming breath, bracing his hands on the counter.

“Go wash your hands,” Alex tells him, needing a minute to clear his head, “and then tell me how to finish this.”

“Yes, sir,” Michael says, and then the hands on his hips and the warmth at his back are gone.

Once he hears the sink running, Alex makes short work of the peppers and adds them to the pot.

Michael comes back a short moment later and stirs the diced peppers into the pot with one hand as he fiddles with the burner knob with the other. Alex leaves him to it while he washes his own hands.

“Perfect,” Michael comments when he’s satisfied. “Now it just needs to simmer for an hour.”

Alex doesn’t waste any time stepping back into Michael’s space, not even bothering to dry his hands on the dish towel Michael left by the sink. If Michael is upset about the water soaking into the thin fabric of his t-shirt where Alex grips his waist, he doesn’t say so. Instead, his hands slide up Alex’s shoulders, one of them finding a home in the short hair at the back of his neck.

“A whole hour, huh?” Alex asks, eyes drifting down toward Michael’s mouth.

“Mhmm,” Michael hums slowly, a coy smile spreading over his lips.

“That’s a lot of time,” Alex muses. “What do you think we should do with it?”

Michael’s grip on Alex’s hair tightens just a little. “I’ve got a few ideas.”

Michael manages to set the timer on the stove before Alex drags him back to his bedroom.

It’s a good thing, too. By the time the alarm goes off, they’ve worked up quite the appetite.

[heyitssmiller]

Chop It Like It’s Hot

Chapter 3: Sun’s Out Buns Out

Chop It Like It’s Hot Masterlist

Let the pining begin.

@lumosinlove

“Oh my god, there’s ducks!” Finn said excitedly, pointing to the ducks swimming in the pond nearby. Their next challenge was taking place in a small park on the outskirts of the city, which made Logan a little nervous. He was just getting used to the setup of the kitchens, and now he had to deal with this. Finn let out an aww as a group of ducklings followed their mom. “Look at ‘em, they’re so cute.”

Logan looked warily at the setup of grills a few feet away. “I don’t think we’re here to look at ducks.”

“Good morning, recruits!” Dorcas called, waving them over. Leo stood beside her, hair turned golden in the sunlight. Logan blamed the reason he was suddenly too hot on the weather.

Ah, yes. That new development Logan refused to think about too hard.

He was happy with Finn. They’d been happy together for years now.

So why was he crushing on Leo like he did with Finn back in college?

Logan wasn’t blind – he knew the signs well enough after pining for Finn for five years. He just didn’t know what to do with these feelings. And they’d learned from all the miscommunication and wasted time in college – he and Finn told each other everything now.

He just wasn’t sure he could tell Finn this.

How would that conversation go? Hey I know we’ve been happily together for three years now but I also kind of want to kiss that tall blond guy who’s been teaching us how to cook. 

Yeah. That would go over well.

“Today we’re going to be testing your creativity by having you make your own burgers! We’ll both give you examples, but you’ll need to come up with your own original ideas for this challenge.” Leo stated, dumping ground beef into a bowl. “I’m going to make a jaeger schnitzel burger. So for the meat I’m using a mixture of different meats. Schnitzel is traditionally pork or veal, but you need the right ratio of lean meat to fatty meat to make a good burger, so I’m adding some additional fatty beef.” He formed patties out of the meat and placed them on the grill. “What really sets jaeger schnitzel from regular schnitzel is the mushroom gravy on top.”

He smiled, which Logan was quickly realizing was completely unfair. “Creating a gravy is a little hard on a grill, but I’ll do my best. Basically we’re going to melt butter in a pan and fry these onions until they begin to brown. Then add the garlic and cook it for another minute. Add the mushrooms and cook until they’re golden and some of the liquid from the mushrooms has evaporated.”

Leo switched back to his burgers and flipped them before returning to his sauce. “To thicken this into a gravy. We’re going to add flour and stir. Then it’s just beef broth, vinegar, thyme, sugar, salt, and pepper.  Now the burgers are done, so we’re going to take all of this off the grill and plate it, making sure there’s plenty of gravy on this burger.” 

“And I’m going to make a burrito burger.” Dorcas took over. “First we’re going to take our meat and add some seasoning to it: chili powder, garlic powder, onion powder, crushed red pepper flakes, dried oregano, paprika, ground cumin, sea salt, and black pepper. Make sure to get the seasoning mixed in there thoroughly. Then we just throw these patties on the grill and let them cook. What really sets this burger apart are the toppings.”

She reached into a bag on her table and pulled out refried beans, salsa, pepper jack cheese, and lettuce. “I made the refried beans and salsa from scratch last night since we definitely don’t have time for that today. So once these burgers are cooked, we just add the toppings and we’re done. Easy enough, right?”

“This challenge is a blind taste test so that we can’t pick favorites.” Leo added. “Which means you guys are going to be on your own for this challenge – we can’t help you in this round.”

Everyone groaned.

“Just don’t burn yourselves and you’ll be fine. You have forty-five minutes and your time starts now!”

***

Mid-Episode Interview:

*Logan takes his hat off to run a hand through his hair with a sigh*

Logan: I… I might be going home today. *laughs* You know, I hate cooking. The only reason I went on this show was because of Finn. He seemed so excited about it, you know? So for the past seven weeks, I figured if I got eliminated I’d just stay in the city and spend time with him when they weren’t shooting the show. I haven’t really cared if I got eliminated or not. Now, though?

*His gaze loses focus for a few seconds, then he looks back at the camera*

Logan: I don’t think I’m ready to leave just yet.

***

Finn quickly glanced over at Logan as he dropped lamb chops into a hot pan. The brunet had come in second to last place in the earlier competition today and clearly wasn’t happy about it. There wasn’t much he could do right now, but he’d find something to cheer him up with after they were done filming for the day. Alex was in the city visiting their family – maybe the two of them could stop by the house and say hi, if it wasn’t too late.

“Non-stick pan, Lo!” He hissed as Logan grabbed a regular pan to put his potato cake in.

“What?”

“Use a non-stick pan. That way it won’t stick when you flip the cake over.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

“How’s it going over here?”

Finn glanced up to see Leo at their shared station. “Good! I think. The lamb chops were a little hard to cut and my tapenade is kind of a mess, but I’m hoping it tastes ok.”

“And the potato cake?”

“The fact that I’m going to be flipping a potato cake is hilarious because I am not graceful at all.”

Leo laughed. “It’s not too bad, you’ll see. Logan, how about you?”

“Well, I’ve learned that I hate the taste of fennel.” Logan groused, sprinkling red pepper flakes on top of his fennel salad. “So I’m hoping to mask that flavor as much as I can.”

“It’s definitely not for everyone. Your chopping skills have really improved over the past couple of weeks, though – look at those potatoes!”

Logan looked up and smiled.

A smile Finn definitely recognized from college.

He glanced back and forth between the two, speculating. Maybe it wasn’t just Finn dealing with new feelings he wasn’t sure how to process yet.

After time ran out Finn glanced down at his two identical dishes – one for him, one for Leo – with a sigh of relief. It was still a little messy, but overall he felt pretty good about it. No matter what he was miles ahead of where he started, so he was happy with himself. He was still a little worried to be tasting his own dish, though. At the end of the day he was still a bad cook, after all.

When it was finally his turn to be judged, he grabbed both plates and placed them on the table before taking a seat opposite Leo.

“This feels like a really weird first date.” Finn teased, watching the faintest hint of a blush spread across Leo’s cheeks.

Oh my god, he’s adorable.

“I can definitely see some inconsistency in the cooking of your lamb chops.” He hurried to say, flipping one of the pieces of meat over for Finn to look at. “See, this one’s nice and brown while this one is undercooked. This boils down to variation of size in your meat. When you’ve got all kinds of different sizes, it’s hard to consistently cook them.” He cut up a piece of lamb and put it in his mouth. Finn probably stared at said mouth a bit too long before following suit.

“Well? What do you think?”

Finn shrugged, swallowing his bite. “I like it.”

Leo smiled. “You know what? Me too.”

 ***

Logan was up next. He sat down hesitantly across from Leo, looking down at his plate and hoping it was enough to save him from elimination.

“Your presentation is really good, Logan. The potatoes are nice and golden, the lamb looks perfect.” Leo said, and something about his words and calm demeanor soothed Logan instantly. He smiled. “Thanks, chef.”

“Ready to try this?”

“Let’s do it.” Logan stabbed his food with his fork, took a bite –

And instantly coughed.

It was so spicy. The kind of spicy that makes your throat close up and tears come to your eyes.

“Oh my god.” He gasped, making a mad dive towards his glass of water and downing it as fast as he could. “Jesus Christ, that’s so hot.”

Leo hummed, setting his fork down. He seemed completely unfazed. “Too much red pepper. You said earlier you were trying to mask fennel flavor, but I think you did too good a job at that.” He watched Logan with a small smile and pushed his own full glass of water towards him. “You ok?”

Logan gaped at him, but gladly accepted the water. “How are you not dying right now?”

“I literally have a show about cajun cooking; I’m used to spice. You should try ghost peppers sometime.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Don’t knock it until you try it.” Leo looked back down at his plate. “Overall, your dish was pretty good. Could’ve used a little less red pepper, but the rest of it was spot on.”

Logan felt his shoulders relax a little. “Thanks, chef.”

***

Logan was in the bottom two.

Fuck.

Finn’s heart had continued to drop as name after name of the safe contestants got announced, including his own, and Logan’s didn’t. He knew Logan didn’t really care if he got eliminated or not, but this had been so much fun to do with him. Finn didn’t want to see him go yet.

“And the recruit who will be leaving us today is…”

Finn honestly couldn’t name the person who got eliminated – all he knew was that Logan was staying. He let his tense shoulders relax and stepped forward to give him a hug. “That was close, Lo.”

“Yeah,” Logan’s voice was muffled in Finn’s shirt. “Guess I’ll have to try harder next week.”

Finn leaned back with a big smile on his face. “You wanna stay?”

“I mean, I’m a really bad cook,” Logan shrugged. “But I’ll stay as long as I can.”

“Logan?” Both boys turned at the voice. Leo stood off to the side, looking slightly awkward.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to talk to you about today’s challenges and ways to improve. I’ve got a few tips I can share, if you want.” He glanced at Finn. “Can I steal him for a second?”

“Go right ahead.”

Leo flashed him a smile before motioning for Logan to follow him.

Finn couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he could read Logan’s body language like a book. When he fiddled with his hat, Finn knew he was nervous. When he met Leo’s eyes and didn’t look away as he spoke, he was serious about whatever he was saying. When his gaze flicked down to Leo’s lips, he wanted to kiss him. When he subconsciously leaned forwards and tilted his head up slightly, he was going to kiss him.

The strangest thing was… Finn wasn’t jealous. He should be, shouldn’t he?

But Logan didn’t kiss Leo.

He seemed to catch himself at the last second and he drew back sharply, refusing to look at Leo again. He muttered something and turned to walk away, catching Finn’s gaze as he did so. His eyes widened guiltily, steps slowing as he crossed the room to where Finn was waiting.

Finn gave him a small smile and grabbed his hand reassuringly.

“I think we need to talk.”

[lu-undy]

Cats sometimes bring rats or bugs for "gift" to their hoomans.. So Pearl brings Lu a rat proudly and he terrifies. Is it okay for a request?

Here it is!

"Lu'? I'm home!" 

"Finally!" A voice answered from the kitchen. "I was starting to worry…!"

Mundy removed his shoes and his coat before going to his lover in the kitchen. 

"What's cookin'?" He asked, and a smile appeared on his lips, only because the sight of his lover brought peace to him. Lucien was wearing a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a dark blue pair of trousers. He had an apron laced around his thin waist.

"Not even a hello or a 'how are you' ? I am starting to think that you prefer the food over me." Lucien joked as he was busy stirring something in a saucepan. Mundy came behind him and gently kissed his cheek from behind as he hugged him. “Here, taste this for me please.” Lucien raised the wooden spoon to his own lips first to gently blow on it before moving it to Mundy’s pouting lips.

"Well, what can I say? Not only it tastes amazin’, but it also smells bloody good." Mundy rested his chin on Lucien's shoulder as he watched him cook, his arms still laced around the thin waist he loved.

"The food or me?" 

"Stop actin' jealous… I'm talkin' about both." Mundy added a few more kisses down Lucien's neck and the Frenchman started laughing. "You ticklish, jealous, gorgeous doll of a man…" 

Lucien put the wooden spoon he was holding aside and turned to Mundy, splaying his hands on his chest. He was smiling wide, looking up to the reason his heart was beating so fast.

"How was work today?" 

"Not too bad…" The tall Aussie bent down to kiss his lover's lips. "But I'm happy to be back home. Been missin' you."

"So have I. Do you mind laying the table, please? The soup will be ready any minute now." 

"Sure." They exchanged a smile and Mundy got to work, coming and going from the kitchen to the living-room and vice versa. "Oh, let me put more water for Pearl." 

Mundy noticed that the cat's water bowl was empty. He took it off of the floor and filled it again. 

"Meow!" 

The fluffy white feline entered the kitchen and trotted to Mundy. When she reached him, she stood on her back legs, meowing and asking for attention.

"Hey, baby… Here, more water for you." 

"Meow!"

"Yeah, I know, c'mere…" Mundy crouched down to carry her in his arms. "Been missin' Dad, eh?" He scratched her and kissed her, standing back up.

"Meow…!" Perle leaned on his shoulder and purred, half-closing her deep blue eyes.

"Yeah, I know, baby, I know. Did she have dinner already?" He asked Lucien.

"Oui, she did." Lucien answered as he served the soup in two bowls.

"Alright, want a treat then?" Mundy went to a cupboard and opened it before his hand dived in a jar. 

"Meow…" Perle raised her head as she recognised the melody that usually preceded a treat. 

"Here, baby cat." He put it in front of her mouth and she gladly ate it. "Yeah, good girl, good baby." Mundy kissed her. 

"Dinner is ready, mon amour." 

[My love]

"Oh, Dad's dinner's ready. You go and be a good girl, yeah?" Mundy crouched down and released her. Perle trotted straight to the French window and politely sat down. That was her way of asking to open it. "Wanna go in the garden? Sure, here…" Mundy slid the French window open and the white cloud slithered out.

“You may leave the window open, a bit of fresh air will not hurt.” Lucien said.

“Sure, luv’. Let me take the bowls…” Mundy took them and moved to the living room where he found his lover serving water and wine before sitting down.

“Here, some bread, mon amour.”

[my love]

“Thanks, Lu’. So, what’ve you been up to while I was away?”

The discussion went on as the soup slowly evaporated from their bowls. It wasn’t very cold anymore, winter was gone and spring was well established. Mundy wished it could come faster. He preferred the hot and scorching sun rather than the blue, ice cold weather of winter. Now that he thought about it, he liked ice blue only in one thing, namely, the colour of his lover’s eyes.

“I went to shop for some groceries at the market.” Lucien went on.

“Did you take Pearl with you?”

“Oui, this time she wanted to come along. She behaved very well and managed to resist the urge to jump on the sardines when she saw them.”

“That’s progress I guess.” Mundy chuckled.

“Indeed. So as a reward, I bought her some and fried them for her with a bit of cumin and paprika. She loved it.”

“You don’t need to cook for the kitty, we’re giving her food, and the expensive stuff at that.”

“But wouldn’t you be bored of canned food? It is nice to bring a bit of diversity to her. Besides, she absolutely loved it. I might do it more often.”

“Hold on, you said you bought some fish at the market, right?”

“Oui.”

“Did that fisherman sheila say anythin’ to you again?”

“She might have.” Lucien cocked a smug eyebrow.

“I knew it… Next time, I’ll go with you and if I have to kiss you then and there for her to stop flirtin’ with you, I bloody will!”

“Ooh, how the tables have turned. Back in the kitchen I was the jealous one, but listen to you now, hm?”

“I’m not jealous, she just needs to get it in that thick skull of hers that you’re taken, and that’s that.”

Lucien chuckled and slid his foot under the table closer to Mundy’s, gently brushing his leg against his. 

“I love seeing you jealous like this…” The Frenchman admitted with a lovestruck, lazy grin.

“Yeah, well. I get people, they see you and you’re gorgeous. Nice suit, handsome face and beautiful body too. But they gotta understand that you’re not for takin’. I got my hands on you and I’m not ready to let you go.”

“Neither am I.” Lucien answered. “Go and get a change to be more comfy if you want. I will deal with the dishes.”

“You sure?”

“Oui, go ahead.”

“Might as well take a shower too if that’s ok?”

“Take your time, mon chéri.”

[my darling]

Lucien stood up and started collecting the empty dishes on the table when Mundy pulled him away from his waist to hold him close and kiss him. 

“I’ll be quick, you behave for me, yeah?” Mundy held his chin between his fingers.

“Anything for you, Mundy.” Lucien’s eyes crossed on the Aussie’s lips. They stretched in a smile. The tall man added a quick peck to his lover’s brow and left him. 

Lucien exhaled in a long and longing sigh when his lover disappeared up the stairs before turning to the table and resuming what he was doing. 

Upstairs, Mundy went to the bathroom and started stripping naked as he started the shower. He was standing in nothing but his boxer shorts when he heard a loud and high pitched scream coming from downstairs. Without a second thought and leaving the shower still flowing, Mundy spun on his heels and darted back downstairs. 

“What’s wrong? Lu’?!” 

When Mundy made it in the living-room again, he found Lucien standing up on a chair and leaping to get higher up on the table. 

“What is it?!” The Aussie exclaimed, seeing his lover hunched and scared.

“It’s Perle!”

“What’s wrong with her?” Mundy got closer to the lady cat who was standing at the chair’s foot. 

“She has a mouse in her mouth!” Lucien yelled, terrified.

“Oh…” Mundy started chuckling. “C’mere, show Dad what you got, yeah?”

Perle turned to Mundy and trotted to him before releasing the dead rodent on the floor. Mundy crouched down and petted her head, scratching her repeatedly. 

“Are you not scared?”

“Nah, it’s dead, it’s not gonna run to you, come down, Lu’.”

“Why did she go and get a mouse?!”

“It’s a gift.” Mundy answered.

“A gift?!” Lucien exclaimed.

“Yeah, c’mere, pretty girl, yeah, you did great… Look at Papa…” Mundy chuckled more. “You got him scared, eh?”

“Meow…” Perle’s answer was rolled on her purr. 

“Yeah, he doesn’t really like mice. Next time bring him some flowers, yeah?”

“Meow.”

“A gift...?” Lucien repeated as he landed from the table to the chair and finally the ground.

“Yeah, I guess she was happy ‘cause you cooked her the sardines. She just wanted to say thanks.” Mundy stood back up.

“Mon Dieu…” He put a hand on his mouth. 

“C’mere…” Lucien approached and took a comically long detour around the dead mouse on the floor. Mundy laced an arm around his lover when he finally arrived against him. “I didn’t know you were scared of mice.”

“They are dirty and carry diseases.” Lucien buried his head deeper in Mundy’s bare, hairy chest.

“You shouldn’t have reacted like that to Pearl. Poor baby didn’t understand why you were scared shitless when she brought you a gift.”

“Well, it is a mouse, Mundy, not a bouquet of roses…”

Mundy chuckled. 

“Oh c’mon. You gotta say thanks.”

“Do I? Won’t that encourage her to bring me more dead rodents?”

“It might, but a gift’s a gift. And she went out of her way to hunt down something especially for you. You have to thank her, darl’.”

“Fine…” Lucien crouched down and Perle naturally came to him. He scratched her and heard her purr. “Merci, mon bébé. I am sorry I reacted this way. Now I know that you meant to offer something.”

[Thank you, my baby]

“Meow…”

"Oui, mon bébé. Papa is sorry…” Perle stood on her back paws and Lucien carried her in his arms as he stood back up. “Is there any way I can make it up to her?”

“What about some fish?” Mundy asked and Perle’s head swooshed to him. 

“Meow?”

“Yeah, what if Dad cooked some more fish for you, yeah?”

“Non.” Lucien answered.

“What?”

“I cook the fish, you get rid of the dead mouse... Non, Mundy! What are you doing?! Don’t touch it with your hands! What if it bears the plague?!”

“Oh you sissy, it’s just a mouse…” Mundy picked it up from its tail and went to the French window before throwing it far in the garden. He came back and washed his hands thoroughly. “There, Princess Lu’ can breathe normally now, the mouse is out.”

“Are you sure it will not come back?” Lucien skittishly peeked his head in the kitchen where Mundy was wiping his hands. He held Perle in his arms dearly, like a child does a Teddy bear to bring some comfort.

“Meow!” Perle’s pupils blew wide when she saw Dad open the big white box of cold food and take the fish out of it. “Meow…!”

“Lu’, it was dead. Now unless Medic’s out there experimentin’ on it behind our backs, I don’t think it will come back, nah.”

“You are sure it was dead and not pretending?” Lucien insisted.

“Oh, Lu’!” Mundy stopped what he was doing dead and Lucien hunched his back. 

“What?” He whispered, looking everywhere around him.

“Listen! I think I heard the mouse’s Dead Ringer…” Mundy said before bursting into laughter.

“Mundy…!”

Lucien crouched to free Perle and-

“Oh, what was that for?” Mundy put a hand on his shoulder where Lucien had gently punched him.

“Mocking my Dead Ringer. It was a very precious tool!”

“Oh, come on… Oh-ho, are you that scared?” Lucien had slid to Mundy’s arms and was clinging to his naked skin, sandwiched between the kitchen top and his lover.

“Do not mock me, not only does it carry diseases but it was dead and disgustingly decomposing, ew!” Lucien pulled his nose and winced.

Mundy chuckled and laced an arm around him. 

“Right, stay here stuck to me like a snail while I make the kitty her fish.”

“Meow…” Perle had jumped on the counter and raised her paw to the plate of fresh sardines.

“Perle, non, don’t touch it.” Lucien said.

She brought her paw closer to the fish.

“Pearl…” Mundy added, and the lady cat removed her paw. She sat down and licked her chops repeatedly.

“She listens to you better than she does me.”

“Well, like her Papa…” Mundy started. “She likes authority sometimes.” He put a pan on the stove and started the fire before adding a drizzle of olive oil in it. 

Lucien blushed when he raised his eyes and saw Mundy winking at him.

[aster-aspera]

One love, one house

CW: food mention, loads of fluff

Relationships: romantic DLAMP

Chapter title is from sweater weather by the neighbourhood

read on ao3

Masterlist for my superhero AU

Patton loved his roommate, he really did, but he was just a little eccentric. Patton could deal with the sneaking in at hellish hours in the early morning, and the mud he tracked into the appartement and the faint smell of antiseptic and blood that was always present in their bathroom.

He could even deal with his roommate occasionally forgetting his tasks or even disappearing for days on end.

But this was just unacceptable. Patton stood in front of a near empty fridge, only a refrigerated tupperware full of noodles and a jar of pickles left.

“Virgil?” He called.

His roommate looked up at him from under his messy bangs, dark circles that seemed to take up half of his face under his eyes. He really should stop sneaking out at night. Patton had hoped he would have gotten more sleep during the holidays, but it seemed his roommate was determined to work himself into an early grave.

“What have you been eating?” He asked, pointing to the fridge.

Virgil gaped at him for a moment as the question made its way into his sleep deprived brain.

“Uhm, noodles?” He said, sounding unsure of himself.

“Just noodles?”

“And pickles, I guess.”

“During the holiday season?”

“Yes?”

Patton sighed. Virgil just continued staring at him, seemingly unaware of why Patton was so upset.

“You did eat something other than noodles on Christmas, right?” He asked, his voice edging on desperation.

“I dunno, when was Christmas?”

Patton snapped.

“Nope, this is unacceptable. I don’t care if you celebrate or not, but you should at least eat something.”

“I ate.” Virgil grumbled.

“Noodles!” Patton interjected.

“And it’s not like I had a lot of time on my hands to cook an elaborate meal.”

“One, it’s not that hard to throw some vegetables into a wok and two, what are you even doing during the holidays, it’s not like we have classes.”

Virgil looked down.

“Studying.” He mumbled.

“More like studying , with the way you look.”

“I don’t look that bad.”

“You look like a corpse, a cute corpse, but still a corpse.”

Virgil flushed and Patton had to fight not to coo. He was just so cute.

“Whatever, are you free tonight?” He continued.

“Uhh, sure? I have something at 11 though.”

“That’s fine, I’m cooking you dinner tonight and we’re going to have a little holiday celebration.”

“Patton, I don’t really celebrate Christmas.”

“It’s not about Christmas. I just want to have a nice night with my friend and while I’m at it, I want to make sure you’re eating something for once.”

“Ok, fine. We’ll have a holiday celebration.” Virgil groaned, but he didn’t seem totally against the idea.

Patton cheered.

“Okay, I’m going to pop over to the store first. We’ll need ingredients.”

“It’s fine, you don’t have to bother yourself too much.”

“Nonsense, I love cooking for others. Also, we’re all out of food except noodles, so I’d have to go shopping anyways.”

Virgil had the decency to look mildly guilty at that.

Virgil accompanied him to the store. Which, unlike Patton had expected, did not speed up the shopping process, but only slowed them down as they fooled around.

“Okay, okay. Let's get this done quickly, thyme is money.” Patton said, waggling his eyebrows at Virgil.

“What the hell am I doughing here.” Virgil groaned.

Patton gasped. “You made a pun!” He exclaimed.

“Yeah well, don’t expect too many of those. I wouldn’t want to oatverdo it.”

Patton gasped in delight.

“The s’more puns you make, the s’more i love you.” He proclaimed and Virgil blushed beet red.

Patton giggled as he looked at Virgil having fun. His roommate was usually a lot more reserved and morose. He had no idea what had happened that had put Virgil in such high spirits, but whatever it was, Patton was grateful. The smile that graced Virgil’s face was the most breathtaking thing he had seen all week.

Patton looked away, aware he had been staring just a little too long.

The meal was delicious, if he said so himself, and Virgil seemed to agree. He lounged back in his chair languidly, sleepy from the good food. He looked better than Patton had seen him all month. The colour had returned to his cheeks again and his eyes sparkled.

Patton silently congratulated himself on a job well done.

“That was great, Pat. Seriously.”

“I’m humbled by your compliments.”

Virgil smiled.

“Where did you even learn how to cook like this?”

“My moms taught me. They made sure to teach me all the basic survival skills like cooking, laundry and how to snare and skin rabbits.”

“Snare rabbits?” Virgil laughed.

“I lived in a forest, I had to be able to take care of myself. They taught me all kinds of other cool survival stuff too.”

“Nice, my mom barely taught me how to turn on a stove.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Virgil waved him away. “My parents just had other priorities in my upbringing. Maybe you could teach me to cook something other than pasta?”

“I’d love to.” Getting to cook and spend more time with Virgil? It sounded like heaven to Patton.

Virgil looked at the clock and suddenly shot up.

“Shit, I have to go. I’m sorry. Thanks for the food, Patton.”

“It’s fine. Anytime.” Patton watched him leave with an empty feeling in his stomach.

He didn’t mind his roommate’s odd habits, but sometimes he wished he didn’t always run off.

~

Patton had to be honest, when Virgil had first told him about his boyfriends, he had been quite shocked.

Not because of the boyfriends, plural. Patton was pretty sure he was polyamorous himself.

No, it was the fact that quiet, shy, reserved Virgil, the guy who Patton had never seen interact with anyone except Patton, had somehow gotten himself not one, but two boyfriends.

And yeah, maybe he did feel a sharp stab of jealousy when Virgil first told him. He wondered how his boyfriends had gotten him to realize they wanted to date him. Patton had been trying to make his feelings clear for months now and was almost convinced Virgil was aromantic.

They must have yelled something along the lines of “We have romantic feelings for you” to get through that thick skull of his.

Patton didn’t resent Virgil for dating them, he was happy for him. Virgil really needed something good in his life.

And now, here he was, cooking up an elaborate meal for Virgil’s boyfriends.

When Virgil had told him about his boyfriends and the fact that they had been going steady for a while, Patton had insisted they come over for dinner sometime.

“I have to make sure they’re not going to break my best friend’s heart.” He had argued.

Virgil had complained at that, but his boyfriends had agreed and a date had been fixed.

Patton had maybe gone a little overboard with the meal. Two curries stewed on the stove and he was just about to throw the homemade falafel into the pan. In the oven, naans he had made from scratch were baking.

He hoped they liked Indian.

Virgil let his boyfriends into the appartement and wow, they were hot.

One of them, the shorter of the two, beamed at him, his smile perfectly blinding, and walked over to him.

“Hello, you must be the charming Patton I’ve heard so much about.” He said with a theatrical bow.

The taller one walked over to them with a more reserved smile.

“I’m Logan and this character here is Roman. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Virgil has told us a lot about you.” He stuck out his hand.

“Really, he has?” Patton felt a warm glow at that knowledge.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you too.” He continued.

“So you’re the one who’s been keeping our Virgil alive?” Roman asked him.

“What?” Patton asked.

“V has a lot of skills, basic self care isn’t one of them.” Roman clarified.

“We’re happy he has such a good friend.” Logan added.

“Well, I’m happy to take care of him. But, yeah, self care isn’t one of his skills.”

“As much as I appreciate you guys bonding, I can take care of myself.” Virgil interjected.

“Debatable.” Logan said.

Roman seemed to have noticed the food bubbling on the stove by now.

“Ooh, indian.” He exclaimed.

“It smells good.” Logan complimented.

“Well, it’s nearly done, so get seated and I’ll bring the food over.”

“You guys are in for a treat. Pat’s the best cook I know.” Virgil informed them.

Patton blushed at the high praise.

“I must say I’m intrigued.” Logan said, while taking a seat at the table.

Patton turned off the stove and added a few leaves of coriander before carrying the dishes over to the table.

“Do you need a hand? It looks like a lot.” Roman offered.

Finally, with Roman’s help, the table was set and they all dug in, dipping their naans into the curries Patton had made.

Roman moaned theatrically.

“God, this is just heavenly.” He praised.

“It’s great Patton.” Virgil offered.

“Yes, it is quite splendid. What spices did you use?” Logan asked him.

“Well, this one has chilli powder...”

“I can taste that.” Virgil grumbled.

“Turmeric, cumin and coriander and the other one has bay leaves, cardamom, cinnamon, cloves and more chilli powder.”

“That’s a lot of spices.” Roman said.

“That’s the secret to Indian cooking, the things they can do with spices is just magical.” Patton replied.

They talked more.

Logan told him he was studying theoretical physics at the university where Virgil also studied.

“Wow, theoretical physics. Isn’t that like black holes and stuff?” Patton asked, intrigued.

“Oh boy, don’t get him started.” Virgil muttered.

Logan paid him no mind.

“That’s one aspect but it’s also so much more. It touches on all aspects of our lives.” With that Logan launched into an impassioned speech about all the things theoretical physics touched on and the different aspects of it.

Patton didn’t understand everything he was going on about, physics hadn’t been his best subject in school, but he enjoyed listening to Logan all the same. He had a way of speaking that drew you in. It was clear he really enjoyed the subject he was studying. Patton felt like he could listen to Logan for hours on end. A glance at the others told him they felt the same way, both of them staring at him with fond expressions.

“I apologise. I was rambling again, I have been told I have a tendency to do that.” Logan cut himself off.

“What? There’s nothing to apologize for, it was really fascinating.”

Logan smiled softly but didn’t go on. An awkward silence fell over the table.

“So!” Patton piped up brightly. “What do you do, Roman?”

“I’m studying to become a nurse actually.”

“Really? cool!”

They chatted about all kinds of things. Roman complained about the amount of things he had to learn. Logan told him it was nothing compared to what he had to study. Virgil lamented about annoying professors. And Patton listened, feeling a little like an intruder but a part of it all the same.

They complemented each other perfectly. Patton had no idea how they had met or what made them such a good team, but it must be something wonderful indeed.

In that moment, Patton wished so fervently he could be a part of it. He barely knew Logan and Roman and yet he could feel himself falling for them even now.

They didn’t seem to mind him being there, roping him into the conversation easily.

Logan smiled at him from across the table and Roman slung an arm over his shoulder, laughing at one of his puns.

Virgil was just getting up to refill the water jug, when an alert on his phone went off. All three of them jumped up.

“We have to leave.” Logan said, looking at his phone.

“Shit, I’m so sorry Patton.” Virgil repeated for what seemed like the thousandth time. It felt like whenever Patton was finally making progress in his relationship, something interrupted.

He didn’t mind the weird habits, he just wished he would let him in on his secrets. Hadn’t he proved his trustworthiness to Virgil?

They left him with the dishes and an empty feeling in his chest.

~

Roman, Virgil and Logan sat at the dinner table while Patton busied himself in the kitchen, finding comfort in the familiar routine of cooking. A tense silence filled the usually cozy apartment.

“How long have you known?” Logan asked finally.

Patton looked at Virgil when he answered.

“Probably since the first month.”

Virgil stammered. “I thought…”

“You thought what Virgil? That I didn’t notice you sneaking in at five in the morning? That I didn’t notice that whenever you ran off during dinner, Storm was suddenly on the news? That I didn't notice all the cuts and bruises you collected? You thought, what? That I was stupid? Blind? Deaf?” He knew he was being unfair, the others looked tired and miserable and guilty. But all his frustration at being left in the dark for years was bubbling over.

He was so tired of being treated as stupid, of being left behind when the others had to attend to hero bussiness. He was tired of lying awake worrying about them.

Patton returned to chopping the leeks with more force than absolutely necessary.

“We wanted to protect you.” Logan said, guilt colouring his voice.

“I don’t need your protection. I think you saw that tonight.”

“Yes, we were wrong. I realize that now. We apologize”

“I don’t.” Virgil said.

Patton stared at him. “What?”

Virgil stood up and faced him. “I’m sorry about lying to you, but I won’t apologize for trying to protect you. It’s bad enough these two are out on the streets, I don’t need another untrained civilian risking their life.” Virgil gestured at Roman and Logan, who didn’t look happy about being called untrained.

Patton laughed bitterly. “I’m not untrained, that much should be clear. And what makes you so trained then?”

Virgil sighed.

“When I said my parents had other priorities in my upbringing, I meant it. Instead of learning maths and chemistry, I learnt how to fight, how to take down a grown man, how to disappear into the shadows.”

“Why?” Patton asked, he was aware Virgil hadn’t had the most traditional upbringing, but this wasn’t what he had expected.

“I was to be an assassin, but the company we worked for disbanded and my mom decided to give me a normal life.” He explained coldy, it was clear there was more there, but Patton decided now was not the best time to ask.

They were all tired from the events of the evening and Patton really just wanted to curl up in bed and sleep for another week. All his anger at his friends keeping him in the dark had faded, leaving him with just his exhaustion.

He turned back to the quiche he was making, with store bought dough, his mom would be shocked, and slid it into the oven.

“I’m just happy you guys are alright.” He said, extending an olive branch.

“Well, we were lucky our valiant knight in shining armour came to our rescue.” Roman said, his voice lacking his usual flamboyance.

Patton sat down next to Virgil and laid his head on his shoulder. Virgil wrapped his arm around him.

“You guys are lucky I knew where you were.”

“Yeah, how did you do that? Do you have us micro-chipped or something?” Roman questioned.

Patton just smiled mysteriously.

~

Patton popped his head into their bedroom, where Janus was talking into a phone. Patton listened for a moment as Janus talked to someone in rapid fire French, sounding mildly irritated.

He noticed Patton standing in the doorway and held up a hand signaling he would be done soon. He rolled his eyes and mouthed “Grandmother” at him.

Patton stifled a giggle. Janus’s grandmother was notoriously difficult.

“Oui, oui mémé, je promets.”

He put down the phone with a sigh.

“Why is she like this?” He sighed in exasperation.

Patton wrapped his arms around Janus’s waist and nuzzled into his neck.

“It’s ‘cause she loves you, honeybee.”

“Loves to annoy me, more like. Anyways, did you need something, mon cœur ?”

“Yeah, you said you’d help with dinner?”

“Course, give me a minute, I’m coming.”

“I’ll go peel the potatoes.” Patton bounced down the stairs.

On the couch, Logan and Roman were attempting to watch a period drama, keyword, attempting.

They were currently critiquing the costumes in the show, Roman in particular was raving about corsets on bare skin.

Patton smiled, he loved them both very much, but watching a movie or show with them was nearly impossible. They both had trouble keeping their thoughts to themselves.

“Having fun?” He asked as he pressed a kiss to Roman’s forehead.

“Corsets on bare skin, Patton! What is wrong with them?” Roman flung his hands up, nearly knocking Patton’s glasses off.

“Whoops, sorry.” He apologized.

Patton kissed him again and gave Logan a quick side hug.

“You guys enjoy, I’m going to get started on dinner.”

“I highly doubt I will be able to enjoy it, considering all the mistakes in the writing and costuming.” Logan muttered.

Janus joined him in making dinner and together they worked efficiently. Janus was a great cook and a good help in the kitchen. Together, they managed to make something good without getting in each others’ way too much.

Janus put on an old timey jazz song and as the food sizzled on the stove, they slowed gently in the kitchen.

The door opened and Virgil blew in with a gust of cold air. He groaned as he dropped his bag on the floor.

“Everything all right, mon amour?” Janus questioned.

“Just tired, training was hard today.” Virgil sighed.

“Yeah, I see. Go take a shower.” Janus wrinkled his nose.

Virgil made to kiss Janus but he warded him off.

“Go shower first.” He instructed.

“I want a kiss.” Virgil whined.

“I’ll give you a kiss.” Patton said.

“Don’t enable him.” Janus groaned but he pressed a quick kiss to Virgil’s nose.

Patton drew Virgil in for a soft, gentle one and then pushed him in the direction of the shower.

“Go. Food’s nearly done.”

Right on cue, Roman bounced into the kitchen, Logan trailing behind him.

“Food’s ready?” He asked.

“Not yet. Will you guys set the table?” Patton asked.

As busy clattering filled the kitchen, Patton felt a smile slip onto his lips. Janus noticed and wrapped his arms around him.

“What are you thinking about?” He whispered into his ear.

“Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

“Yeah, we really are.” He sighed.

They smiled as Virgil entered the kitchen and promptly got wrapped up in a hug from Roman.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

THIS ONE IS REAL

Those are pretty expensive. If they were obviously good, someone would already be writing stuff on top of it. He made cars, which had been a luxury item, into a commodity. But maybe the older generation would laugh at me for opinions expressed here, remember that anything you see here that's not in the middle. I once wrote that startup founders should be at least 23, and that one should just go to grad school.1 Why do you think so? Could you turn theorems into a commodity, and they were still mostly in denial about problems. When we got real funding near the end of it, but regardless it's certainly constraining.

Soon after we arrived at Yahoo, we got an email from Filo, who had been crawling around our directory hierarchy, asking if it was really necessary to store so much of it. At each step, flow down. Our generation wants to get paid for doing work you love, you're practically there. I said a good rule of thumb for recognizing when you have competitors, because it's painful to observe the gap between them. But when I finally tried living there for a bit last year, and the Bible is quite explicit on the subject of homosexuality. Though unprecedented, I predict this situation is also temporary. They can't hire smart people anymore, but they don't get blamed for it. This one is real. But unfortunately you run into a chicken and egg problem here. And when you see something that's taking advantage of new technology to give people something they want that they couldn't have before, you're probably looking at a winner. In a field like math or physics, where no audience matters except your peers, and judging ability is sufficiently straightforward that hiring and admissions committees can do it without setting off the kind of work you do, and since you have to jump through in school.2 So Dad, there's this company called Apple.

Err. And indeed, a lot of meetings; don't have chunks of code that multiple people own; don't have chunks of code that multiple people own; don't have chunks of code that multiple people own; don't have a cofounder, but that there be few of them. Afterward I wondered, what am I even measuring? And that's fine. If you're a hacker thinking about starting a startup in New York admire more.3 Even Einstein probably had moments when he wanted to have a meeting about it. Don't maltreat users is a subset of a more general technique: making things easier.

At least, it has to look professional. My only leisure activities were running, which I think even Spamhaus would admit is a rough guess at the top spammers. Wealth is defined democratically. While you're at it, you should get a job. After all, a Web 2. But an online square is more dangerous than a physical one. Startup ideas are ideas for companies, and sales depends mostly on effort. Surely one had to force oneself to work on, toward things you actually like. By seeming unable even to cut a grapefruit in half let alone go to the store and buy one, he forced other people to use.4 If anyone is dishonest, it's the one with fewer employees that's more impressive.

The intervening years have created a situation that is, someone whose best work was behind him—and hand over the project with copious free advice about how the book should show in positive terms the strength and diversity of the American people, etc, etc. If this were a movie, for example. If you want to stay happy, you have to assume there was someone born in Milan with as much natural ability as Leonardo couldn't beat the force of environment, do you suppose you can? Even if your only goal is to please them, the way to get information out of them. The Bay Area has a lot of time thinking about language design. One reason people who've been out in the world. Thanks to Sam Altman, was 19 at the time.

As I was leaving I offered it to him, as I've done countless times before in the same way the classic airline pilot manner is said to derive from Chuck Yeager. Once publishing—giving people copies—becomes the most natural way of distributing your content, it probably isn't, it tended to pervade the atmosphere of early universities. How many times have you heard hackers speak fondly of how in, say, transportation or communications. But the reason reporters ended up writing stories about this particular truth, rather than by compiler writers. For better or worse, the idea of starting a startup just doesn't require that much intelligence. But it's harder than it looks. Serving web pages is very, very large. Most of us hate to acknowledge this. When the values of the elite. If you're sure of the general area you want to do when they're 12, and just the sort of trifle that breaks deals when investors feel they have the upper hand—over an uncertainty about whether the founders had correctly filed their 83 b forms, if you asked random people on the street if they'd like to do is figure things out, why do you need to in order to store something for them. Most good mathematicians would work on math even if there were no jobs as math professors, whereas in the departments at the other students' without having more than glanced over the book to learn the names of users with the highest average comment scores in orange.

And software sells hardware. I wanted. Taking a shower is like a form of meditation. And the boneheads who designed this stove even had an example of loving their work might help their kids more than an expensive house. The Bay Area has a lot of startups—probaby most startups funded by Y Combinator. It's an old idea that new things come from the margin is simply that you don't have an idea. Java will turn out to be a tradition of startups taking VC money, and work on what you love is very difficult. Responsibility is an occupational disease of eminence. Odd as it might sound, we tell startups that they should try to make friends with as many smart people as you can. Or they could return to their roots and make going to the theater a treat. Well, no.

So what's interesting? The reason we have high level languages is because people can't deal with machine language. How hard would it be to jumpstart a silicon valley? So far the complete list of messages I've picked up from cities is: wealth, style, hipness, physical attractiveness, fame, political power, economic power, intelligence, social class, and quality of life. Audiences have to be derived from working in that field. I learned to program when computer power was scarce.5 This extra cost buys you flexibility. These are the only places I know that Richard and Jonathan Rees have done a lot quicker.

Notes

They would have a bogus political agenda or are feebly executed. Not only do convertible debt, so problems they face are probably not do that. Some who read this essay I'm talking mainly about software design.

Put in chopped garlic, pepper, cumin, and stir. And of course reflects a willful misunderstanding of what you launch with, you might be digital talent. The Civil Service Examinations of Imperial China, many of the definition of important problems includes only those on the subject of language power in Succinctness is Power. But be careful here, I was writing this, but something feminists need to be when it converts you get stock as if you'd just thought of them could as accurately be called acting Japanese.

If this happens it will become increasingly easy to believe your whole future depends on the matter. In sufficiently disordered times, even if they do the opposite: when we created pets. If you're part of an audience of investors want to invest in successive rounds, it will thereby expose it to profitability on a map. But you can eliminate, do not try too hard at fixing bugs—which is the least important of the world wars to say that it will seem as if the fix is at pains to point out that this isn't strictly true, because spam and P nonspam are both genuinely formidable, and only incidentally to tell someone that I hadn't had much success in doing a bad idea has been rewritten to suit present fashions.

Together these were the impressive ones. I switch person. And while this is the way to create a silicon valley out of school. Obviously signalling risk.

Another thing I learned from this experiment: set aside an option to maintain their percentage. What you're looking for something they wanted, so you'd find you couldn't slow the latter without also slowing the former.

[honeymoonjin]

okAY let’s talk about namjoon learning to cook

hello it’s ur local ‘on hiatus’ writer ahhh ha ha haaa when will i learn : ) this isn’t gonna be a fic bc i still don’t have it in me to commit to a 20k beast BUT i got this idea that i shared with my friends and i wanna share it with you too so uwu buckle up (pls lmk if you would like me to do more of these concept thread thingies, it means i’ll be able to give u more content even if it’s not a full fic)

our darling yn is a famous chef

for someone so young, she’s pretty well accomplished, and she uses her Hip Young Relatability to run her own youtube series on teaching people to cook better

each week she features a budding home chef and gives them reasonable and easy tips to improve their cooking yee HAW

it’s very successful and always goes well until mister kim namjoon secures the Bag and gets a spot on the show

she’s a little sceptical at first bc he seems so smart.... in their initial interview she asks him his cooking experience and he somehow begins to discuss an ancient proverb about potatoes 

you don’t get it but it seems poignant

so the cameras start rolling and you introduce ur guest, namjoon does a cute little bow and smiles shyly

the first step is hygiene of course, and he does just fine (maybe he fumbles for a solid twenty seconds with the hand soap bottle but that can be easily cut out in post)

the menu is simple 

it’s gonna be a stir-fry, so basically all he actually needs to learn how to do is chop some vegetables and cook some noodles in a wok

technique is important when chopping onions; you need to tuck your fingers holding the onion half in and under and hold the knife on a slight angle away to be sure not to cut yourself

you explain this to namjoon, who seems a little confused as to why his knife is so much blunter than yours

that would be the plastic cover protecting the blade

“an easy mistake to make!” you say

it is not an easy mistake to make

“argh, it’s still blunt!” 

namjoon is holding the knife upside down, sharp blade pointing towards the ceiling

for health and safety, it’s better he watches while you do it for him and simply give instructions for “next time” 

namjoon seems very amused by the perfect cubes you’ve cut in a matter of seconds

“you could make croutons out of these!” 

you in fact can’t, but you don’t think he’s in the mindset to receive this unfortunate news

one thing you can say positively about namjoon is that he is very attentive

he, much taller than you, hunches over your shoulder with rounded eyes and a mouth opened slackly in focus, fingers shyly fiddling with the edge of the bench

he asks questions and nods to everything you say, yet somehow the second the knife, mandolin or grater is in his hand he goes blank

he seems completely out of his depth, lying a grater on its side in his defense u held the mandolin on its side so how was he supposed to know the grater needed to be stood upright

namjoon is doing his best to be proactive: “do we need to preheat the oven?”

“namjoon this is a stir fry, we don’t need to cook anything in the oven”

he stammers, fumbling cutely to explain himself “no, no i meant for the oven timer”

“huh”

“when i make ramen i always preheat the oven so i can use the oven timer”

  what the fuck

“namjoon you can use the oven timer on its own, the oven doesn’t need to be on”

“um- okay. yes chef”

you can’t be too mad at him though because as you turn on the stove and place the chopped veges into the wok, he gives a little happy wiggle, immediately smelling the crushed garlic and soy sauce you’d added

“so, we don’t need this to be fancy, we just need it to be nutritious, easy, and delicious. food is your fuel, but it should also be an enjoyable activity, otherwise you’ll never want to do it. most of these techniques i learnt when i stayed with my friend’s grandmother in gyeong-gu, they’re just hearty family recipes.”

“oh, gyeong-gu is lovely,” namjoon coos

“have you been?” 

“no.”

once the veges are cooking away, you instruct namjoon to fill a pot with water as you keep stirring away

“it’s not working” he frowns

“?? how is it not working, you’ve got the tap on full blast”

“the water is just going”

you sneak a peak

he’s trying to fill up a metal colander

eventually you manage to put a pot of water on the stove to boil and tell him to grab the noodles to add

“with the wrapper on?”

“please take the wrapper off first, namjoon”

“sure thing chef. i just asked because the plastic is so thin. i thought maybe it was like-” 

he pauses to violently struggle with the seal, seemingly not having noticed the easy-tear notch. with a huff, he finally breaks it open and the raw noodles go flopping onto the table (luckily clean)

“i thought maybe it was like how dishwasher tablets have the wrapper that dissolves in hot water, you know?”

“this wrapper doesn’t dissolve, joon”

he nods sadly, picking up and laying the noodles into the simmering water one at a time, delicately. “it would be better if it was. so much plastic these days, it’s not good for the turtles. or the crabs.”

you suppress a quirk of your lips at the way his voice goes so thoughtful and soft, a complete contrast from the overpowered aggression he used to rip open the noodle packet.

“now, namjoon, we should season these noodles a bit. what do we put in, do you wanna guess?”

“cumin” he answers immediately

you blink

“cumin?”

“if i could choose a spice, it would be cumin. do you have any?” 

“that- okay, i was thinking some salt, our main spices are going in the wok, we just want something for the noodles to cook a bit better in”

“if i don’t have salt at home, is cumin okay though?”

“everybody has salt, namjoon, it’s very easy to come by-”

“i don’t have salt” he retorts

the pot of boiling water bubbles in indignance

“but you have cumin?”

“two jars”

“d-do you mean those little spice jars? why would you need two at once-”

“i repurposed some jam jars. reduce, reuse, recycle. that grocery store down the road has these massive bins. you bring along whatever container you have and fill it up and weigh it.”

you think the vegetables are on the verge of sticking to the wok, so you hurriedly turn and give them a stir, mind fuzzy

“why would you need two jam jars of cumin? i thought you said you don’t cook at home?”

“i don’t,” he answers easily, then his eyebrows twitch, eyes distant like he’s having a realisation. with a thoughtful him, he smiles and nods his head. “but if i was going to cook, i’d want cumin to be involved.”

namjoon is a genius idiot and you think you are falling for him (panic)

(part 2 coming soon if u want it blease give me and himbo joonie validation)

[winryofresembool]

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 12

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: Domestic moments, part 2

A/N: This chapter continues from where we were left of in the previous one! And sadly (or not sadly? I guess it depends on what you like) it's still not the last 'domestic moments' chapter; I had to cut this one in half because of time issues. But worry not, some drama is ahead in a few chapters. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope it shows! Let me know :)

Characters in this ch: Calypso, Leo

Words: 2189

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / next chapter / AO3

Once Leo had finished testing the fixed stereos and sent Jason a message to ask if he and Piper had time to visit that day, he joined Calypso in the kitchen. She had already gathered all the ingredients on the table and started chopping the vegetables, smiling as she worked. For a moment Leo thought that nothing was hotter than a woman who enjoyed what she was doing that much. He didn’t even realize he was staring.

“You can start by preheating the oven and preparing the baking sheet, I didn’t have time to do that yet,” she noted calmly when she noticed him looking at her questioningly.

“Aye aye, Captain,” Leo said, saluting her like a sailor would.

“I’m a captain now?” Calypso asked, her mouth twitching ever so slightly.

“Oh, you can be anything you want. Captain. Boss lady. The Queen of the flat number 7.”

“How about you just do what I said, peasant,” Calypso said, but Leo was happy that she had joined his game. It was a good sign.

“Not a peasant, Sunshine. You can call me Commander Tool Belt.” Leo smirked and earned a roll of eyes from Calypso.

“How do you come up with all these nicknames?” she asked while focusing on cutting the tomatoes.

“It’s a talent. Something I was born with,” Leo answered while finally turning the oven on and starting to search for the baking sheet.

“You know, really no offense but sometimes I can’t tell if you’re being serious or if you’re just fooling around.” Calypso had now stopped the chopping and she crossed her arms, looking at him seriously. “Want some honesty? Usually I joke the most when I’m nervous.” The grin had disappeared from Leo’s face and the sunlight that was coming through the window made his eyes look like flames again.

To his surprise, Calypso asked: “Are you… are you nervous around me?”

“What do you think?” Leo blurted without thinking. He noticed Calypso seemed kind of taken aback by his answer, so he added quickly: “I mean… girls in general make me nervous.” He had lost track of times he had felt his ears and face heat in this girl’s company.

“Really?” Calypso asked. “But I’ve seen you with Piper many times now and you act quite naturally with her.”

“I’ve known her for over a year now. She’s a good friend and easy to talk with when you get to know her.” Leo shrugged.

“I guess we two are not there yet,” Calypso said, and Leo thought he could detect a bit of disappointment in her voice. “Since you are still nervous around me.”

“I didn’t mean…” For once Leo decided to pick his words carefully. “Um, I think you’re a cool person. Sure, kinda withdrawn but so am I with new people. That means I haven’t gotten to know you as well as Piper yet. But I’d like to. You know. Get to know you better. If that’s cool with you.”

He noticed a hint of pink rise to her cheeks but didn’t say anything about that. She answered: “Oh. Sure. I mean, since we are sharing this flat and all…”

The atmosphere had gotten slightly awkward again so Leo decided to do what he did the best: be goofy. He dug a few long spaghetti noodles from his food storage, cut them in half and put them in his mouth, making them look like walrus tusks.

“Say ‘hola’ to your new friend, Commander Walrus.”

“Estás loco,” Calypso said in clear Spanish, and Leo’s mouth dropped. If he hadn’t thought she was attractive before…

“You… know Spanish? How come you only mention that now?!” He inquired.

“I don’t really know much of it,” Calypso said. “I studied it a couple of years at school as a kid but since I haven’t used it after that, I don’t remember much anymore. So don’t expect me to understand you.”

“Oh, OK. Well, if you ever want to revive your skills, you have a Spanish master right here!”

“Somehow I can’t imagine you explaining the conjugations of irregular verbs to me, but OK, I’ll consider it,” Calypso said, gently pulling one of the noodles from Leo’s mouth. Leo was awfully aware how close she was to him again. Then she broke his hopes and dreams by lightly poking him on the nose with the noodle half and saying: “But now, Commander Noodle, how about you stop distracting me, or otherwise Jason and Piper won’t have anything to eat when they arrive.”

“Spoilsport,” Leo pouted but did what he was told and put the other spaghetti noodle away, starting to pull out the ingredients he needed.

Calypso was already done with her salad by the time Leo put his tacos in the oven and he felt her eyes on him the whole time.

“What are you looking at?” he asked, feeling a bit uncomfortable about the attention all of a sudden.

“I…” Calypso seemed a bit hesitant. “... was just thinking you seem pretty handy with that stuff… Did your mothers teach you?”

“Jo and Emmie are wonderful people but they have a rule in their household that you don’t get to eat if you don’t work for it, so yes, I’ve done a lot of cooking since I moved there. But I already knew a lot before that. I kinda had to.”

“Right,” Calypso said, and Leo was glad she didn’t ask more. He wasn’t feeling like opening up about being forced to cook for the other kids of his earlier foster parents while they were too drunk to do that or having to search for food from trash cans while on the run. “So, will you teach me to make that sauce supreme?” she asked then.

Leo wagged his finger at her. “Listen, Sunshine, it’s a skill. You don’t teach it just like that. But I can see what I can do.”

“Alright,” Calypso said, smiling slightly.

“Now, first things first,” Leo started. “I like saving most of the seasoning for the sour cream instead of the meat. The hard part is of course knowing how much different spices you should put in. I say, the more, the better. If it doesn’t open your stuffy nose, then it’s not enough.”

“But what if you don’t like spicy food?” Calypso asked.

“Then what are you even eating tacos for?” Leo rolled his eyes. “Well, if you really don’t like it, then you can of course put less spices than I do, but honestly, what’s the point if you don’t feel at least a bit like a dragon that can breathe fire?”

“Sounds tough. To be honest, I don’t eat a lot of spicy food so I’m not sure what to expect,” Calypso confessed.

“In that case you’re lucky that you have a master to teach you, then.” Leo grinned.

“Sure,” Calypso looked at him with slight amusement. “Well, show me, Master. What do you use?”

“I like to begin with the most important one just so I don’t accidentally forget it: the chili powder.” Leo said, putting some chili into the sour cream while talking. “If you decide you don’t like spicy food, then in the future don’t use chili as much as I do. But I like putting almost a full teaspoon. If I’m feeling brave, I might put even more. Then some cumin and paprika, but not as much as the chili, and finish it with a bit of salt and black pepper. And voila, that’s all you need!”

“That’s all?” Calypso raised her eyebrows. “I thought it would be something very complicated based on your bragging.”

“Now, now, don’t underestimate simple things, woman!” Leo wagged his finger at her. “Sometimes simple is the best. That’s my motto with my inventions too. If you really wanted to, you could also add a bit of tomato sauce on top of the tacos, but since we are gonna use your fresh tomatoes, I don’t see the need for that.”

Calypso looked like she might have been about to protest, but then the oven clock informed them that the tacos would be ready to be served, and the conversation ended there.

Once Leo had put the toppings on the tacos, he took a spoonful of his sour cream sauce and put it in front of Calypso’s mouth. “Here. Taste this. Since you are a rookie, I was a bit more sparing with the chili, but just this one time.”

She did what he told her and tasted it. After swallowing and taking the flavor in, she finally said: “That’s not bad! You do surprise me, oh great sauce master Valdez.”

“You really shouldn’t be that surprised, but whatever,” Leo said. “It will be even better once the flavors have spread more but I didn’t have time to let the sauce sit in the fridge this time.”

“Okay. Hey, have you ever eaten olives?” Calypso asked, a funny expression spreading on her face.

“Maybe as a kid…” Leo shrugged, remembering the times he’d still been living with his mother. “They don’t look particularly appetizing to me.”

“Well, then I think it’s time for an equivalent exchange. Since I tasted your taco sauce, you’ll taste olives,” she said and took one that had remained left from her salad into her hand. Then she turned Leo’s head to face her and urged him to open his mouth.

“Seriously? You’re feeding them to me?” he asked, half annoyed, half amused, but took the olive into his mouth. He didn’t really like the bitter taste of it. “Uh, did you put a lot of these in the salad?” He looked at it suspiciously.

“I did. Any complaints?”

Leo tried to come up with something to avoid answering the question. When he spotted the red chili peppers on the kitchen counter, he got an idea. “I tell you what. I will consider not picking them from my salad if you manage to eat at least half of this.” He showed the peppers and was half expecting her to say a hearty ‘no way!’, but she surprised him.

“That’s a low blow, Valdez. Lucky for you, I’m up for the challenge.”

“Okay,” Leo said, cutting one pepper in half and offering it to her. “I have to warn you, though; this is the strongest pepper I have, so it is hot.”

Calypso took the pepper from him and cautiously took a bite from the tip. It took her a second to react. “Oh. My. Gods. Water, water, water!!!”

“You’re gonna want to drink milk with that, it helps much more than water,” Leo adviced and took out a clean glass from the cupboard and a milk carton from the fridge. He also cut a small slice of soft bread he had bought earlier and gave it to her.

“Here. Take this. And don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he smirked. Calypso glared at him, but took Leo’s offerings and seemed relieved to notice that it actually helped.

“I’m not going to eat more of that,” she announced, only making Leo grin wider.

“That’s fine,” he said. “But I won’t be eating olives either because you lost the bet.”

“Yes you will, after making me eat that.”Calypso glared at him.

“Nope!”

“Yes, it’s only fair!” Calypso kept insisting.

“But a deal is a deal!” Leo said back.

“But I didn’t realize the chili pepper would be that much worse than the olives!”

“You’re a sore loser, Sunshine!”

“And you’re a brat!”

“Fine, then I am. But I’m still not eating the olives!” Leo said and started sprinting away from her towards his room where he could lock the door from her.

“Oh, so this is the game you’re playing?” Calypso exclaimed and started chasing him. On her way she picked one olive from the plate to stuff into his mouth. Leo was fast but Calypso got surprisingly agile too when she wanted to and so she caught him right before he got into his room. She wrapped her arms around him from behind and before he could protest, put the olive into his mouth. Leo accepted his fate and ate it despite the urge to just spit it out.

“You won this round, woman, but don’t get too used to it!” he said, slightly out of breath. Suddenly the silliness of the situation sunk into both of them and they started laughing hard enough that they had to lean against each other.

“I never have a boring moment with you, Leo Valdez,” Calypso hiccuped against his shoulder.

“Well, likewise, Sunshine.”

Leo’s heart seemed to do extra rounds when he watched her laughing and he was very much aware that they were still in a half hug position. Calypso noticed that he had stopped laughing so she raised her gaze to look at his face and the color her cheeks got was the same that Leo’s ears sure were: similar to the red pepper.

“What…” he was about to ask but the moment was broken just as fast as it had started: the buzzer made a sound, informing them that Jason and Piper were there.

[thiswasinevitableid]

winter promts: 100 with ot4!! (mayb 2 double beds so they have room yknow)

I went with fluff rather than smut with this one, so there are references to sex but the fic is SFW. For context, Stern in this universe has a lot of anxiety around belonging somewhere.

100 from this list: The b&b we’re at asked if we wouldn’t mind sharing a room since we know each other and this snow storm has brought in some unexpected guests...one bed...three nights...

“I’m so sorry, sir.” The harried looking young woman behind the desk looks between Stern and Barclay, “between the blizzard and it already being New Years weekend, we’ve had to take in a few more people than expected.”

“So our room’s been given to someone else?” Stern puts on his professional demeanor, the one he uses to soothe tourists who’ve definitely seen something they shouldn’t

“Yes, unfortunately. The, the only room we have left is the cottage in the back. It sleeps four, but we can’t guarantee you wouldn’t have to share with another couple.”

“Uh, ‘scuse me, miss, but I think we can make that work.” Duck Newton steps around Barclay, Indrid busy looking over the many brochures on the far wall, “you see, my friend and I’d more than willing to bunk with these two, since they’re friends from back home. Assumin that’s alright with them?”

“Of course.” Stern smiles.

“Oh, thank you, thank you all for being so accommodating. And I’m sorry again about the inconvenience.”

---------------------------

“Well, that went better than expected.” Stern sets down his duffel bag on one of the two beds. 

“You’re tellin me, this is way easier than bookin the two next to each other and sneakin back and forth.”

“Yeah, had my fill of sneaking around.” Barclay adds, evaluating the small kitchen. 

“I mean, unless one of the other guests took a rather blurry photo of you, it’d be better than your previous attempts to ‘sneak’” Indrid is finally down unwrapping himself down to his sweatpants and the pink and yellow sweater Duck bought him. 

“You’re on to talk stealth, mr. my-pants-say-mothman-on-the-ass.” Barclay grabs said ass, making Indrid squeak.

“I am wearing them ironically.”

“Uh huh, sure.”

Duck, meanwhile, flops down on the bed where Stern is unpacking.

“Jesus, darlin, how many books did you bring?”

“Three. When Indrid said there’d likely be a blizzard, I assumed that would cut down on our outdoor activities. And cable is so atrocious these days.”

“So…” Duck tugs the front of his shirt, bringing him down for a kiss, “you really can’t think of another thing we’d be doin to stay out of the cold?”

“Duck, we can’t do that for three days straight.”

“You sayin you opposed to tryin?”

“I’m saying” Stern puts away the last of his clothing, “that I am a mortal man, and three days of non-stop fucking would probably kill me.”

“Hey, we’d stop some. Gotta eat, and sleep too. Probably throw in a few showers. Unless what does it for you is the smell of a bunch of sweaty dudes.”

Stern wrinkles his nose, and Duck laughs. 

“Oooh!” Indrid steps into the room, clapping his hands excitedly, “I’m going to take a bath.” He swings the bathroom door open, revealing a tub. It occurs to Stern, as the skinnier man strips down without delay, that none of them even bothered asking how Indrid knew the tub was there. 

Stern never thought he’d be around them long enough to get used to his boyfriend always being a bit ahead of him. 

He heads back into the main room of the cottage, finds Barclay unloading groceries. 

“Glad we stocked up before we left. Think trying to get the car down to that grocery store we passed would be impossible. I have had enough car-based hijinks for one lifetime, don’t need to add doing Icecapades in a Jeep to the list.”

“Car based hijinks?’

“Long story.” Barclay turns, offering his hand, “c’mon, agent, haven’t gotten to hold you nearly enough today.” The larger man stretches out on the couch, Stern laying so he’s cuddled against his chest.

A chirp-moan splashes out of the bathroom. 

“Guess Indrid’s got company.” Barclay chuckles. Another chirp, this one more of a trill, and Barclays legs shift as if he’s hiding something. Stern has a good guess as to what.

“Feeling the need to join them? I know you get wound up when Indrid makes sounds like that.” He traces a finger along the blue lines of Barclays plaid shirt. 

“Nah, not right now. Right now, kinda enjoying being all warm and cozy with the best thing to ever come out of the FBI in my arms.”

Stern snorts, kisses his chest. Let’s his mind wander like a cat searching for a sunny spot as intermittent moans continue reaching them. 

“Wait…there was a report from the 90s that I always thought was absurd. Something about Bigfoot stealing someone’s car. But the location, the timeline…”

“Uhhhh.”

“Oh my LORD, why would you steal a car?”

“Things got out of hand! Quickly.” Barclay regales him with the story, Stern doing his best to look affronted at the reckless behavior but tipping quickly into pure amusement. 

Barclay eventually coaxes Stern off of him so he can go ask the kitchen in the main B&B if they have cumin. Stern wanders into the bedroom and finds a now mothed-out Indrid falling asleep with Duck in his arms. The Sylph lifts the wing resting atop the human, an offer for Stern to join them. He does, looping his arms around Duck as the wing gently returns to its role as blanket. 

“You know” Indrid murmurs, “one of these days I ought to make you all moth disguises, just so I can see what all the fuss is about.”

“That could be a fascinating exercise.” Stern whispers.

“Hell yeah.” Duck wiggles in Sterns embrace “Mothman cuddles.”

--------------------------------------------------

Stern wakes up alone, though someone has thoughtfully draped a blanket over him. As he rouses, voices drift in from the living room. 

“Do you think he knows?”

“Judging by the futures, no.”

“Please tell me we’re tellin him soon. If I end up havin to try to lie about this it’s gonna go bad.”

Hmmmm, that is not the kind of conversation one wants to overhear their boyfriends having in hushed tones. 

He yawns exaggeratedly, assuming that will bring a hush over the trio. 

Instead, it brings a certain ranger right on top of him. Duck kisses him, smiling as he does, and all Sterns worries evaporate. 

“Perfect timin’, darlin, dinner’s almost ready.” 

“I’d love to join you all, but it appears I’m being attacked by a bear.” He smirks. Duck growls playfully, bending down to drag a rough kiss up his neck. Stern retaliates by placing a hickey on the first exposed patch of skin he sees. 

“You two are welcome to continue in that direction, but be warned I will eat any cheesecake not claimed in the next five minutes.”

“Indrid, that’s for dessert!”

“I reject such arbitrary notions of EEEEEEEP”

“Come on” Stern sits up, Duck coming with him, “let’s go make sure Indrids glasses don’t come off from Barclay throwing him over his shoulder. Again.”

----------------------------------------------------------

“The methodology in this show is truly abhorrent.” Stern rests his head on Ducks belly, the two watching one of the dozen ghost hunting shows airing on the Discovery Channel.

“No kiddin’. Also, these fellas startle so easy they’re doin a better job scarin themselves than any ghost could.”

Duck strokes his hair and he sighs, nuzzles at the slip of skin that’s showing between his boxers and white t-shirt. The boxers only went back on about ten minutes prior, as Stern had been seized with a desperate need to unhurriedly and lovingly suck his boyfriend off, fingers teasing and squeezing the thighs he so adores. 

The front door creaks open and whines closed, Barclay and Indrid walking in arm in arm. 

“Did you have a nice walk?”

“Indeed.” Indrid’s face is school-girl shy. 

“You’re blushin, ‘Drid.” Duck teases, before sitting up so animatedly that Sterns rolls to land facedown in his lap with an “oof.” 

“Holy shit, Barclay, did you work some kind of magic shit to make him willin’ to have sex in the snow? Because that’s fuckin impressive.”

“No, I am merely feeling a bit nostalgic.” Indrid unzips the first of his three outer layers. 

“The first time Indrid and I met was in the middle of a really, really bad winter.” Barclay sits on the edge of the bed, rubbing Sterns legs gently as he talks, “Uh, is it gonna weird either of you out to hear this?”

“No.” Stern reaches out to squeeze Barclays hand once, before returning it to rest comfortable on Ducks knee. 

“Nope. Gotta admit, been kinda curious about it ever since you first mentioned y’all had fucked around when you were younger.”

“Well, long story short, I was in a trailer park, renting a little spot while I tried to sort shit out. One night, I kept hearing noises I recognized as being from another Sylph. And whoever was making them sounded real upset. So I trudged out in my pajamas and followed the noise to this other trailer. Poked my head in and there was Indrid, looking sad as could be. And, y’know, like a giant fucking moth.”

“I was busy feeling sorry for myself and was therefore not watching the futures. It was startling to suddenly have a human in my space. At least until you took off you, hmmm, what was it then?”

“I think it was a ring. Anyway, once we were on the same page, Indrid just kind of started, uh-”

“You can say babbling. It’s an accurate portrayal. I was lonely, I’d been having a run of bad visions, and I’d found myself more homesick than made sense.”

“Aw, ‘Drid.” Duck opens his arm and the Sylph slips under it, Barclay scooching closer as well.

“I was also, shall we say, dealing with an unexpected spike in my arousal levels, almost like a heat. So I was craving touch and connection. I must have been a sight.”

“Yeah” Barclay rumbles, “a real cute one. Little moth.”

Indrid chirrs bashfully, pressing his face into the crook of Ducks neck.

“Anyway, ended up spending the next few days together. Bumped into each other a few times after that, but nothing could ever top finding him that first night.” Barclay smiles at his fellow Sylph, who continues making charming chirrs. After a moment, Indrid lifts his glasses, smiling at the trio. It starts off sweet, moves to wicked as he finishes his question.

“As I sense that’s brought a, ah, romantic air to the evening; would anyone care to help me push the beds together?”

------------------------------------------

Stern is about to be broken up with. He can tell. 

That morning he’d awoken with Indrid still snuggled up around him, purring softly, but when he stepped into the kitchen he’s certain Duck and Barclay had switched to an innocent topic at normal volume, rather than the whispers they’d been making before. 

Later, as they’re lounging about by the little bot-bellied stove, reading (or, in Indrid’s case, drawing), he noticed the pale-haired man taking care to not let him see certain pages. 

But truly, the most damning fact is that Stern has never had a relationship last more than a year, no matter how well it seemed to be going. And no matter how much logic he applies to the situation (Duck murmuring filthy suggestions for that night into his ear, Barclay kissing him any time he walked past, Indrid pulling him into the bedroom for a vigorous bout of sex), he cant stop thinking that the end has come. Patterns are patterns, and while he knows that’s a tautology, he can’t help feeling it offers some unshakeable truth.

It’s the early evening when Barclay, coming up behind him for a hug, says, “Damn, babe, your back is all knotted up.”

“It must be from the cold.” He replies, sighing when Barclay nuzzles his cheek.

“If you need to shake the chill, I found that bath yesterday quite helpful.” Indrid lilts.

And so Stern draws himself a bath and settles in with the “champagne” scented bubble bath provided by their hosts. How very seasonal.

Maybe they won’t do it until after the all return to the lodge. That makes the most sense, as it won’t ruin anybody’s trip. If that’s the case, maybe he ought to savor this last little bit of bliss. 

He does feel a little better after the bath, though he’s now covered in a faintly sugary smell that’s far better suited to Indrid than him. He pulls on one of the fluffy robes, heads into the main room to see if dinner is ready.

“SURPRISE!”

“JESUS!” He jumps, unprepared for the sight of his boyfriends standing around the table, at the center of which sits a cake and...are those fondue pots?

Hanging on the table is a banner, obviously handmade, that reads, “Happy Anniversary.”

“Anniversary?” He looks at the others, perplexed. 

“Little delayed, on account of we thought it’d be more fun to wait and do it now. And, uh, you had to fly back to D.C the actual week.” Duck says, stifling the giggles he got from Sterns surprised outburst, “but it’s the one year anniversary of when you turned up in Kepler. Kinda. And we wanted to celebrate you comin into our lives, even if it scared the livin hell out of us--you okay, city mouse?” Duck’s face falling is the last thing Stern sees before his head collapses into his hands, his built up dread pushing out of his body in shuddery gasps. 

Barclay’s arms are around him in an instant, “Hey, babe, hey, it’s alright. We’re so fucking glad you turned up.”

“It’s, it’s not that.”

“Oh dear.” 

He glances over Barclay’s shoulder, sees Indrid coming out of a peek at the futures.

“Oh pet, did you really think all the secrecy was because we were going to leave you?”

“Wait, what?” Ducks glances at Indrid, who nods, “Joe, we’re crazy about you. Hell, Barclay was flirtin with you even when he thought you might put him in area 51 or some shit.”

“I, I know. It, it seems silly in retrospect but unfortunately my track record is a bit bleak. I once had a date I’d been seeing casually for six months sneak out the bathroom window while we were out to dinner. Never heard from him again. Another called me up the day after I got accepted into the UP and said we could never see each other again. We’d been fine two days before.”

“Yeeesh” Barclay kisses his forehead, “can see why you got jumpy.”

“Even so, I’m afraid I let my anxiety drive more than I should have. I’m sorry”

“Unnecessary apology accepted.” Indrid teases, pulling out a chair, “come, Barclay’s been having to beat me off with a stick the entire time he was making that red velvet cake and my patience is waning.”

“You didn’t mind the spatula to the ass.”

Indrid chirps, mock affronted, and Duck snickers, settling across from Indrid as Stern and Barclay take their seats. 

“Only you could manage fondue in a rental cottage.” Stern smiles fondly at the cook. 

“I’ve got like, a dozen fondue sets. Jake keeps giving them to me at the holidays. I’m not sure if it’s a joke, or if he just forgets he’s gotten me that before. This year he put Hollis’s name on it too.”

“That...explains the color palette.” Stern grabs one of the black skewers from the yellow pot. To his side he sees Indrid set his hand out on the table, Duck’s coming to rest in it automatically, as if the two were made for each other. 

“Hold up” Duck uses his free hand to lift his glass, “wanna make a toast. Here’s to makin it through the end of the world, to findin each other even if the mess of monster-huntin that was our lives and” he grins at Stern, “here’s to the fact no one could lie well enough to keep you from stayin at the lodge.”

Stern raises his glass and clinks it with the others, smiling back as he murmurs, “cheers.”

[rocket-remmy]

Taco ‘Bout It|| Morgan and Remmy

Don’t worry, Cece, they labeled the containers. 

It was a good thing Morgan came prepared. Deirdre’s brain offering, however dear it was to her in sentiment, was not preserved enough to keep Morgan’s mind from zeroing out into the vampire zone. But, she had picked up some pigs blood while on her grocery run and sipped it from her water glass as she fried the brains in one skillet and ground beef in another. Her vomit tupperware was also close at hand, but so far she’d only had a little dry heaving. The gray matter popped and sizzled like anxious hatchlings in her pan, too impatient to be somewhere, some thing else. Morgan added sriracha and stirred. She should be more excited about this. She should be brimming up with relief. Remmy was easy and uncomplicated to spend time with. Too earnest, too nice, too good to care about anything as long as it was meant well. But maybe that was just exactly the problem. 

Remmy was excited about today. Seeing Morgan was going to be a relief. She was nice and sweet and she cared about Remmy enough to cook them brains. And with what had happened with both Blanche-- though that was more of Remmy’s fault, and it still pained them to remember-- and Skylar, they could use a good, relaxing day. And trying something new was always fun! Remmy lifted their fist and knocked, pleasantly surprised by how much nice the house Morgan now shared with Cece was than the run down hotel room she’d been staying in. Maybe Morgan would be excited to hear Remmy had moved, too. Even if their reason wasn’t as nice. “Hi!” they said, giving a little wave when Morgan opened the door. “I brought um-- flowers. Sunflowers! And raspberry jam. I sort of….bought a lot recently and need people to give them to. I hope you don’t mind.”

Morgan wiped her blood stained lips and came to the door, summoning up a smile just as Remmy came into view. “Oh, Remmy!” She took up the flowers and jam. “This is so nice! Thank you. You know you didn’t have to do anything special, right?” She shifted the gifts and pulled her friend into a one armed hug. “Just you is good enough to bring. But, I bet these are going to look amazing in the place. Come on in and get cozy. I’m almost done with dinner.” She kicked the door gently shut behind them and went back to the kitchen, taking another big chug from her glass before turning her attention back to the pan.

Remmy leaned gratefully into the hug, realizing they hadn’t hugged anyone except Moose since the incident with Alain. No, since before that. Since they’d found out what they were. Morgan pulled away too soon, but they covered up their disappointment with a quick grin. “Um-- think of it as a housewarming gift, then!” They took their jacket off and hung it by the front door before following Morgan into the kitchen. “Wow, that smells-- really good. Which is saying something, because um-- you know,” they waved a hand at their face, “It’s not um-- weird, or anything, right?” Their eyes fell on the glass, bright red liquid decorated with flowers and frills. Must be tomato juice. Remmy had never understood why people liked drinking tomato juice.

“Oh, yeah? I guess there is something you can sense after all, it was just a matter of finding what speaks to your appetite,” Morgan said. “Oh, don’t come in here yet, I’m still working. Have to concentrate. I’ll come to you when it’s done!” And when she’d figured out what to do with her blood set up. That seemed like an exhausting thing to explain and she didn’t want anything else to worry about tonight. Remmy was here. Remmy was easy. And as soon as she finished dinner, maybe she could be easy too. “Why don’t you tell me about what’s going on with your girlfriend!” She called over her shoulder. 

“Oh, sorry!” Remmy said, immediately backing up and heading over to the living room. They sat at the table there and folded their hands into their lap, gazing around. Cece’s place was pretty nice, and they were sure Morgan must enjoy it here much more. It felt...homey. And safe. Remmy smiled, relaxing a bit more. “What-- we’re-- we’re not-- she’s not!” they stuttered out at the surprise question. “We haven’t even gone on the date yet! I, um-- I postponed it. Cause of uh, well…” they trailed off, “the whole being undead thing.”

Morgan flipped the brain bits over and promptly felt a twist in her stomach from her lad gulp of blood. Shit. She bent over the sink and heaved as quietly as possible into the tupperware. “What? Oh, but you’re still gonna go, right?” She called. “She really likes you, and I uh--sort of gave her the ‘don’t hurt my friend’ spiel.” Shivering, she turned back to the pan and flipped the brain pieces one last time. Charred on one side, damnit. Morgan turned off the heat and started assembling her handiwork. Red plate for Remmy, blue for herself, so no one got confused. She assembled the fixings the best she knew how, heaving a sigh of relief as the cumin floated up her nostrils. One last sip, to make sure she’d make it through dinner okay, and Morgan brought the plates over to the couch, too tired to think about the stain running down the side of her lip. “Here you go! You can say if it’s too burnt. I don’t have any more to cook, but I’ll know better for next time.” She curled up on the other side of the couch from Remmy and took a deep smell of the food. Her stomach wasn’t ready to take anything in yet, but when it did, she was sure it would almost taste like home.

Remmy heard a weird noise under all the crackling of the frying pans, but didn’t think too much of it. “Oh, um-- I-I dunno. I still need to...figure things out, about myself, a-and how I feel. But-- we’re meeting to talk! Because I sort of...blew up on her. But we’re okay now! Um...mostly.” They stopped, listening as Morgan turned off the stove and started plating the tacos. “Um, thanks again for doing this for me. I, um-- everything is still a little strange. And new.” They paused as Morgan finally came out of the kitchen, looking up at her and-- freezing. That wasn’t tomato juice. Tomato juice was usually orange, wasn’t it? Or orangeish. Remmy didn’t know how they knew, but they knew. That wasn’t tomato juice. “Umm...Morgan?” they asked, staring wide eyed at her. “Wha-- what are you drinking?”

“Oh, I didn’t realize,” Morgan said. “How long ago was this? When we talked the other night she didn’t let anything on. But it wasn’t anything long, just like, online.” She breathed the food in again. It seemed alright, but maybe it was time to chug some peptol instead-- “What?” She asked. What do you--oh!” Suddenly her mouth was the only thing Morgan felt aware of. Her plate clattered down on the coffee table as she got up and ran for her blood towel (this fucking town, turning her into someone with a blood towel) and wiping herself off before rinsing her mouth nearly straight from the faucet. Shit. “It’s nothing!” She called. “I’m fine, really. Just a weird...thing, that’s going on. Sorry.”

Remmy couldn’t help but follow Morgan as she raced into the kitchen, both worry and confusion wrought inside of them. “Morgan, what’s going on?” they asked, scuttling into the kitchen. Noticed the glass full of, well-- if not tomato juice, then-- noticed her rinsing her mouth in the sink. Noticed the tupperware in the sink. “Morgan, are you--!” They started. Stopped. None of this made sense. “Why are you drinking blood!? Why are you acting weird about it! What’s going on?” they said, bewildered. Was this just another person not telling them something? Another person hiding something important? Remmy stepped back. “Are you a vampire?? Or a-- like me?”

Morgan didn’t want to be doing this right now. Between Skylar and Deirdre and getting set back a week from her ghost summoning and her students who were too scared to learn anything new and still, still, being half frozen inside, she was not ready to explain to one more person how she’d screwed herself over and sucked other people into her screwy orbit. She didn’t have the energy to be chipper or self-deprecating about it. She wanted one thing to be right and uncomplicated. “I don’t mean to freak you out,” she sighed. “I am sorry, Remmy. Okay? Can we go back to the couch? Keep eating?” She looked at her friend, and saw her own pleading face reflected back in their expression. “It’s a long, stupid story, a story with a stupid magic TICK in it, but am not anyone or anything other than what I’ve said I am. I can absolutely promise you that.” She began to fix herself a fresh glass of water. Held it over her chest, soothing herself with the weight of it as she breathed slowly. “It’s--call it a temporary allergy! I only flared up because I was making you dinner! Okay?”

Remmy felt a little pang. Another pang. They wanted it to be a nice night, too. That’s what it was supposed to be, just a nice night. “I--” they started, then stopped. They what? Wanted to help? Wanted to know what was going on? They’re help only got people hurt or upset. They stopped talking. “I’m not freaked out. I was just worried, I guess.” They looked from morgan to the table, then back again. “Magical tick? I-- you know, never mind. If you don’t wanna tell me, fine,” they said, slinking back over to the table. “I get it. Okay? You’re going through some shit, I get it.” The tacos looked yummy, but suddenly, they weren’t hungry. They flopped into the chair. “Temporary allergy or whatever, are you okay?” 

Morgan put her face in her hands. She wanted to scream. Remmy didn’t even believe her, and, fuck, why should they? Magic tick? Out of nowhere? Seriously? She shuffled after them, her stomach heavy and ruined with a whole new feeling, and flopped down on the couch. “I screwed up, Remmy, okay?” She said quietly. “That’s basically all there is to it. I tried to do something to fix...myself, and the magic ticks from online were alive instead of dead, and somehow this has managed to backfired on me AND other people.” She looked at Remmy sidelong. They weren’t eating. Was she already messing up with them too?

Remmy tilted their head, blinked in surprise. “Fix yourself?” They moved slightly. “What...what do you mean fix yourself? Is something wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt or sick? Or wait-- do you mean the cold thing? Cause people are working on that! They are! I-I swear. I know it’s hard, being cold all the time, but it’s gonna be okay! But you gotta tell me about these magic ticks. That’s a new one. What did you need ticks for? Why would they make you drink blood or stuff? I’m sorry. I just wanted to help.” 

Morgan pressed her hand to her face again. She was explaining this so badly, and Remmy was somehow over the part where they were left out of this news and offering to help. How did she tell them she was beyond their brand of help? That she was in ‘try to summon ghosts in front of a practical teenager’ territory? Were they next? She couldn’t think of what she could do to screw up their life too, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t possible. Morgan drew her knees up to her chest and shook her head. “It’s not that. That is the least of my problems, honestly. Can you just tell me about you? Tell me all the stuff I missed while I was--” being insensitive. “Being kind of a jerk when you were figuring this zombie thing out?”

“What? No!” Remmy protested. “Morgan, we have to talk about you! You’re going through something big and I-- you didn’t tell me, but I’m here now and you can tell me now! Please tell me now? I just want to help.” Why wouldn’t anyone let Remmy help? Why was everything they’d found slipping through their fingers already? “Why didn’t you tell me before? I coulda helped.” They didn’t want to think about what they were going through. They’d done enough thinking about that. They’d already decided to put it away. It was in a neat little box in their head and they didn’t want to unwrap it and everything that came with it. “Please just tell me.”

“Tell you what!” Morgan snapped. “That I am a walking time bomb of a curse? That I sliced some kid’s arm open in this room because the magic tick I wanted for a spell made me lose my shit at the sight of my own blood? Or that you helping is only going to make your life worse?” She trembled as the last words came out. It had all just sort of...happened. She hadn’t let herself stop for very long to process anything and now it was just coming out all over Remmy, on their dinner that was supposed to smooth things over! Why was she like this? “I’m sorry,” she whispered quickly. “I didn’t mean, I mean, it’s all true, but not like how I said it. Um…” Shit. 

Remmy flinched back when Morgan started yelling. Curse? Cutting someone? Spells gone wrong? They paused, waited for Morgan to peter out. “What curse are you talking about?” they asked quietly after a moment. “What do you mean...I don’t understand.” They’d come back to the cutting and the blood ticks and the weird spell that needed said blood ticks. For now, they could concentrate on one thing. “How is...how is helping going to make it worse?"

“Because I am trouble, Remmy. I am literal walking, magic trouble!” Morgan said. “And maybe it won’t happen for a few more months, but you will get sucked into it if you do not start to get away from me!” Morgan’s body was hot all over with fear. Remmy was too good for their own good, too sad and new and good to be strung along, especially while not knowing what they were in for. God, how had she not owned up to what they were in for until just now? 

“What?” Remmy said, bewildered. “I-- I don’t…” the blinked, confused. “I’m not going to leave you, Morgan. I can’t-- I can’t lose anymore friends. So who cares if you’re trouble! O-or in trouble. I’ll help you! I can help you!” They said, leaning a bit forward, not wanting to spook Morgan, but wishing they could go over and hug her or let her know it’s okay somehow. “I’m not leaving. I’m not...going to get away from you. Whatever this curse is, isn’t that what friends do? Stick around even for the bad?”

“Not when the bad wants to eat you for more trauma fodder,” Morgan said. “When my magic bullshit wants to destroy whatever is too close to me, and you are so fucking nice it’s almost terrifying--no. That is the actual recipe for no. And why would you want that in the first place, Remmy? No one wants that! Nothing is worth that! What if you died--or--I don’t know, what if Moose died! Or---” She flailed desperately into space. Remmy didn’t have a lot to lose either. What had she been thinking? Morgan deflated down into the couch cushions.

“You’re worth it, Morgan!” Remmy nearly shouted. They stood up and made their way over to her now, still uncertain how to proceed, but knowing that they needed to just get it. They’d already lost Blanche and now probably Skylar-- it was happening all over again. They couldn’t do it. They couldn’t lose Morgan, too. “You’re worth it,” they said, sinking to the floor in front of her, in hopes that she would look at them and see the earnest-- the desperation-- in their eyes.

Morgan was tired. She knew the right thing was to lighten her White Crest baggage as much as possible, to stay focused and lay low and make this end before fall or winter had the next chance to crawl near her, but she was so tired, and Remmy was hurt enough already. She shut her eyes and forced her breaths to turn even, in for five, hold for three, out for five. Five, three, five. She kept count with her fingers on her shoulder. She should probably tell Remmy she made her crystals out of beach junk. That she’d given the waitress at Al’s a concussion. That she didn’t know how to thread the needle between being cautious and tearing apart the ether to break out of her mess. “Okay,” she mouthed. “Okay, Remmy.” she beckoned them to come back up. 

Remmy waited patiently for Morgan, tacos long forgotten. They noticed the fingers tapping on her shoulder-- a similar technique to what one of the doctor’s had taught Remmy for when they started having panic attacks. When she finally relented, Remmy crawled onto the couch and wrapped their arms around her. “I’m sorry,” they muttered, “whatever’s going on...I’m sorry. But I’m not gonna leave because of some stupid curse.” They let out a long breath. They weren’t going to lose someone else, not tonight. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

For a moment Morgan tensed in Remmy’s arms, continued tapping, breathing. She didn’t have anyone to do this for her. She kept herself alone, or excused herself to go hide, but even if she didn’t know what to do with the cold weight around her back, she couldn’t deny how it eased the pain in her shoulders or how it gave her something sturdy to brace herself on. As Morgan continued to breathe, she could see the whole trail of losses that she carried behind her, so many invisible holes pulling on her. She could see a whole blank space of god only knew what ahead, opaque as the black under her eyes. She remembered what Deirdre had said: You can rest, can’t you? Just for a moment. Was this the moment? She felt something rise up in her, something begging to breathe, and opened her eyes long enough for one tear to roll out, and to shift herself so she was gripping Remmy’s arm instead. “I’m sorry I freaked out,” she said.

“What? No,” Remmy shook their head, giving a tiny sigh of relief when Morgan gripped their arm. “Don’t apologize. It-- it’s fine. Really.” They laid their head against hers when they felt her relax a little more. “It’s...it’s okay to cry. We can just sit here. We don’t have to talk.” Quiet another moment, before-- “Whenever I would get um...really sad, I would sit on my bed and tell myself stories about...happier times. It didn’t always work, but...I can do that for you, if you want.”

“I’m not crying,” Morgan scoffed, blinking back the tears at the edge of her lids. But she stayed close to Remmy and held on tight until her chest could keep a steady pace on its own. “I don’t know if I can handle hearing about happy times,” she admitted. “Can you reach the TV remote without letting go? I um...I normally watch something dramatic and trashy, when I’m...tired and on edge like this. Do you like TV, Remmy?” 

Remmy couldn’t help but feel a little saddened for Morgan. “I didn’t say you were...I said you could, but…” they glanced away, giving her a moment to gather herself, “okay. We can watch something.” Remmy leaned forward and grabbed the TV remote, leaning back, “whatever you want. I don’t know much TV so it’s your pick.” Held the remote out to her. And maybe it wasn’t the best resolution to the night, but it was a start. And Remmy still had a friend. That had to count for something.

[supernoondles]

2019

The last day of 2019 was also the day I fainted for the first time--a fitting metaphor for the year.

2019 was overall very emotionally taxing. This year was emotionally defined by falling intensely, deeply in love with someone (who is a very private person so I will try to be vague to respect that) and being in a lot of pain because of situations mostly outside of our control. There were a lot of intensely joyous moments, and a lot of intensely sad ones. Throughout it all I wish I had communicated better. I also made some bad decisions with another person I really loved and cared about that resulted in us growing apart. Do I think I grew from the experiences? For sure. Do I wish I could have come upon these realizations through a different course of action? Also yes. Am I fully healed from the experiences? Not really, but I've been getting better.

2019 was also very bad in terms of research. It was the 2nd year of my PhD. After I submitted my rotation project I basically felt stuck in the swamp of my advisors rejecting new project ideas for like literally half a year. This, combined with my high emotional volatility (partially due to starting birth control), made me really sad, unmotivated, and susceptible to self-blame. I definitely had high expectations for myself and became frustrated at my lack of progress and felt a lot of pressure from myself to get my shit together. I also felt incredibly bad after most advisor meetings and not supported by one of them to the point where I had to have a conversation with him about the lack of support (which was very scary)! Things started picking up, though, near the end of the year. I published a paper in collaboration with a former post-doc/now professor elsewhere whom I learned a lot from, and started finally building out another system. I also started mentoring an undergrad who at some point told me I helped him feel like he had something important to say and belong at Stanford for the first time and those words meant a lot to me. I think I'm continuing to refine what I value as research contributions and increasingly think about what it means to build systems that aren't used outside of the lab to satisfy the annual conference publishing cycle. I'm also starting to feel the pressure of doing work that follows a narrative rather than random projects that interest me.

Oh, I guess in terms of "program requirements," I did finish taking required classes, passed qualifying exams, and got a master's degree. But honestly those weren't hard at all nor do I think are externally valued in the larger research community, so I don't really celebrate them as accomplishments beyond surface level.

In 2019 I saw two different therapists. The first one was awful, I think directly influenced some of my bad decisions, and also didn't respect my gender identity??? The second one is a lot better and I'm grateful to see her, even if 90% of our sessions are just talking about my relationship (romantic/advisor) issues, which is something I want to move away from in the future. But I also feel incredibly privileged when relationship issues are the primary stressors in my life--I am grateful I feel equipped to handle other crap, like deadlines, and don't have to worry about my own health.

Those were the main things that have colored this year. We'll now move into the section of this post where I go through my photos to jog my memory of other events.

New years started a tradition of getting dim sum with Jasper, Matthew, and Michelle dear to my heart. My high school friend was also visiting and we all attended a really awesome new year's eve party. I was also going on a lot of dates and having a lot of good sex, which made me really happy, and at the same time crying all the time at work. In February I received probably the best gift anyone has ever given me and saw Panic! at the Disco, which I said in an end of the year group meeting was a good memory of my year (it was, to relive my scene days!). In March I roadtripped both to Marin (which I had never to been before, despite all my years in the bay) and LA for Wondercon; it was nice to both see high school friends and go on a trip with the boo. In April I went on a hike with my office which was probably the start of us all becoming closer (we are the social office in the wing now, which I take pride in! Also we draw a lot of Pokemon which warms my heart). In May I went to CHI in Glasgow and then to Paris afterward, and the entire experience was very weird and bad and also too many flights were canceled and/or missed and I vowed to not return to Europe for a while, but man do I love the noodles at Trois Fois plus de Piment. In June we hosted a double apartment party with my downstairs neighbors (side note: I am really appreciative of the place I live in, for the community, convenience, and large-ass space and will be really sad to be kicked out fall 2020) and I started a friendship important to me. I cat-sat for my advisor (the one who doesn't make me feel bad) twice. I went to Redwood State Park with my family and hosted a summer solstice celebration. Over the summer a friend I met in Paris back in 2017 moved in with me. I had a much needed escape from the bay to Seattle where I was reminded how abundant the world can be. I also went to Tahoe to celebrate my parents' anniversary, and really liked stumbling upon a smaller lake with a cheap boat rental. Then I became FOMO about the highly competitive Bay Area camping and did a last minute walk-in at Redwood Basin in Santa Cruz, which made me realize that I don't actually love camping (but was nice nonetheless). I ate an expensive meal at Commonwealth before they closed. For my birthday we made a friendship quilt and I served my favorite dish of cumin lamb but it was also 90 degrees in my apartment (I felt really bad and bought two fans afterwards). I started buying many cartoon frog plush after being gifted a $3.99 on sale Safeway frog (called Baby!). I went on Tinder dates (one of which was at a quaker yard sale marketed as Harvest Festival where I got a 1970s Kermit puppet for like $2) that largely went nowhere. My high school friend visited and we were both sad about break ups. I did Inktober before I went to New Orleans for a conference on Bourbon St where everything felt like it was coated in a sticky film of alcohol. I almost missed my flight home because I fell asleep in a sculpture garden but I had the most amazing Uber driver who snaked his way through traffic (oh and the flight was delayed by like 3 hours). I went to kind of embarrassing haunted houses and pumpkin patches over Halloween, but also had the most incredible bowl of ramen at Mensho. My whole office dressed up as Zootopia characters which warmed my furry heart. I spent like $120 on a Pokemon shirt. I started playing Arkham Horror and rekindled another friendship important to me. In November went on a road trip to Big Sur because again, I had to escape it all. For Christmas Eve dinner I roasted a duck for the first time (which was delicious). Shortly after I waited in line for 2 hours for a rollercoaster at Great America, which taught me the value of buying a fast pass because at this point in my life that money is worth it, and then waited 2 hours in line at the DMV to get a RealID (I had made an appointment, which was the fast pass).

Okay, now we move to the hobby section!

I got really into sewing in 2019, having received a sewing machine last Christmas. I made a Judy Hopps (which I wore to CrunchyRoll Expo) and Korok cosplay (Fanime), several unsuccessful garments, a crab bean bag, a dice bag, a fanny pack, and put hearts nipples on a jumpsuit.

Shows! I think I went to way fewer shows this year. The ones I can remember are Elephant Gym, Thom Yorke the night before I had an 8am flight, Carly Rae Jepsen over pride weekend (also, she is my #1 artist of the year, which makes a lot of sense given my emotional space), Mitski at Stern Grove, Capitol Hill Bloc Party (which was super lame, except for Lizzo, where I cried), and the National (which was a fucking surreal experience as they played on Stanford's campus, I was the only one within earshot of myself who knew the words to Crybaby Geeks, and then the white catalog moms came up to me after to thank me for singing the song).

I also started playing my own music! I started playing viola again for the first time in 7 years (lol) in both pop-up concerts with the Awesome Orchestra (one in Golden Gate Park, one at the Exploratorium) and a string quartet through my school. Sometimes I am filled with joy and delight. Other times interpersonal tensions run high and also I am very bad at being in tune. It's life.

Media! I really liked Mob Psycho 100 Season 2 and Beastars. I feel like those were the only notable anime I watched this year? I saw the Farewell three times--first in Seattle where I sobbed for like 1 hour after the movie, the second time with my parents, and the third where Awkwafina was present for a Q&A. I thought Parasite was incredible and Promare was OK. I have spent an unfortunately large amount of my time playing Pokemon Masters. I finally beat BOTW and completed my Pokedex in Shield like 2 weeks after getting the game.

Resolutions! In my draft of my 2018 end of year post (which I never polished and posted, sorry), I said my resolutions were 1. come out to my parents 2. draw enough to table at an anime con 3. be disciplined about paper reading and have a doc. I did none of these things!!! However, for 1, I feel like I am well equipped to have this conversation but am waiting for my sibling to do it first out of respect. 2 was just bad. I barely drew this year except for gifts. 3 was okay--I did have a large doc in the beginning of the year when I was looking for ideas, but as time went on I abandoned it (I also stopped reading papers, which I don't think you're supposed to do as a grad student...)

My resolutions this year are phrased as intentions (-(c) Matthew). They span several categories. Relationships: I want to open myself to and actively seek experiences of love, because I miss that. That being said, I will only date someone if 1. they have their life together 2. they love themselves and 3. they challenge me to grow. (I do think you can experience love without dating; the thing I'm after is love in an expansive sense.) Work: I want to do enough work so I don't feel guilty about not doing enough work, and also not berate myself for taking a long time to do things. Hobbies: I want to sew at least one thing a month. Chinese: I want to improve my Chinese, especially pronunciation.

Having written this 20 days into 2020, it's not been so bad so far. But I was also really happy in the beginning of 2019. Here's to no global maxima, a monotonically increasing year!

[2-fast-2-curious]

Peter Parker x Indian-American Reader

Masterlist for Peter Parker

Orignal Request:

“Hii I loved your Chinese- American reader with Peter Parker!! Can you please do one with Peter parker and an Indian reader?”

Author’s Note: I guess as long as you all keep requesting these I’ll keep writing them. Even though I’m a person of colour, I’m not Indian so hopefully, this doesn’t offend anyone. India might be the most diverse country I’ve written for so I don’t expect all of these to apply to every Indian person. These are mostly what I’ve experienced with my Indian friends and they tend to be from the southern part of the country.

Guess who was at the Indian wedding Tony Stark was attending in Spider-Man: Homecoming?

Yup, you

Your relative was getting married and there was no one even close to your age was here

They were probably all back home in New York, enjoying the miracle that was air conditioning

You didn’t even know how you were related to the people getting married

Plus you were kind of avoiding all your relatives who would interrogate you about your grades and whether you wanted to be a doctor, engineer, or lawyer in the not so distant future and ask about your relationship status

You got to the valet stand just in time to see a yellow Audi speeding away

You noticed someone had left their phone on the stand

And the phone was having its messages blown up by a number with a familiar area code

At the reception, you asked everyone you came in contact with if they lost a phone

But no luck

You basically forgot about it until it was almost time to go to bed

And you saw the phone screen light up with a text message from that same number

You sighed, pulling out your own phone and getting on WhatsApp

Because your parents have lectured you a million times about long distance charges

“Your friend left their phone at the valet stand“

“Oh cool, I can pick it up for him. Where’d he leave it?“

“He was at a wedding at Veda Farms in New Dehli“

*read at 1:32 am*

“But that’s like in India“

“It is“

“btw English is really good.“

“Good is an adjective and you’re using it as an adverb. Btw I’m from New York.“

“No way, me too.“

“I’ll be back in the city next week, I can give you the phone then.“

“Sounds good.“

“So what’s it like there.“

“In India?“

“Yeah”

After that, you and your mystery friend start exchanging messages on WhatsApp every day at around 1 in the morning

You send him photos of all the historical places you visit, the beautiful architecture, and the lively streets

Before you know it, the week has ended and you’re on a plane back to New York

The two of you agree to meet at the Trader Joe’s in Queens

Because he wanted to pick up some Cookie Butter

You don’t know why you’re so nervous

Chances were that it was some ordinary guy

He texts you saying that he’s the brunette in the blue sweater by the Brussel sprouts

And you’re scanning the crowd before your eyes land on the cutest guy you’ve ever seen

And Peter sees you and he’s immediately struck by your eyes

They’re large and dark brown and framed by thick luscious lashes and strong brows 

Peter thinks you look like a cartoon princess

And Peter asks you to go out for ice cream to ‘thank you’ for finding Tony Stark’s phone

Peter accidentally letting it slip that he didn’t actually care whether or not he got the phone back

“Mr. Stark got a new phone weeks ago“

Peter admiring the mehndi you still have on your hands from the wedding

Peter asking you if he can continue texting you

“Maybe we could do this again“

Of course, someone who tangentially knows your parents saw you and Peter

And reported it to your parents

Your parents interrogating you when you get home

You brushing it off by saying that you’ll probably never see him again and having to repeat that he’s not your boyfriend like a million times

But you and Peter keep texting 

And he’s asking you if you want to see a movie sometime

You basically choosing a movie theatre in New Jersey to minimize the chances of getting caught by someone who knows your parents

But when you get home, your parents are all over you again and this time they don’t give you a choice and make you invite Peter over for dinner

Peter agreeing but being nervous AF because he really likes you and wants to make a good impression

You giving your parents “the talk“ so they don’t scare Peter away

Your parents having a small heart attack when you casually mention that he’s not Indian

But you think that they just need to warm up to him

And they do, once they meet him

You take it as a good sign when your mom makes dishes that she usually reserves for special occasions

Peter coming over and bringing a bouquet of marigolds for your family

Because a panicked Peter went to Tony and begged him to guide him through the process of meeting a girl-you’re-maybe-dating’s parents for the first time

When Peter enters your house, he’s overwhelmed by the scent of spices

He’s hungry already

Peter being amazed by the spread of roti and all the various kinds of curry

You teaching Peter how to use the roti to scoop up curry

Peter being on his best behaviour and winning your parents over

Your mom telling Peter that he’s welcome to come over anytime

Peter getting lots of hugs

Peter taking her up on the offer any chance he can get

Because there’s so much variety and it’s so different from the food he and Aunt May usually eat

It’s the best Indian food in New York City

Plus it doesn’t hurt that he gets to spend time with his favourite girl while eating delicious food

Being a loving girlfriend and sifting through his plate of biryani to make sure he doesn’t bite into a cardamom pod

Even if the two of you have dinner plans, Peter never leaves your house without eating something

Your mom making a cup of chai for Peter every time he comes over

and you can’t have chai without Wheat Rusks

Your parents giving Peter his own jar of ghee to take home

Coming over to the Parker apartment to teach Peter how to spice food properly

But also accepting his criticism that you’re just putting cumin in everything

You bringing Peter an authentic (aka non-hipster) ‘tumeric-latte’ when he’s under the weather on the insistence of your parents

You pouring a ton of honey in it because you’re not some kind of sadist and you can’t torture your boyfriend like that

Peter picking you up to go on dates after your bhangra classes on the weekends

Showing him some of your moves so he’ll know how to dance when the two of you go to an Indian wedding

Showing Peter some of your favourite Bollywood movies

Staying out late to get dosas after going to a party (aka when you need to sober up before facing your parents)

Peter coming with you to get sweets for Diwali at the local Indian sweet shop

Giving Peter a generous portion to take back with Aunt May

“So they just sell these all year round? Can we go back tomorrow.“

Lighting firecrackers in the street with Peter

Running away, laughing like idiots when the two of you accidentally set off several car alarms on your street

Peter coming over to keep you company as you get ready for a wedding

Peter loving the way you look in your brightly coloured saree

“You look really beautiful“

Even though he doesn’t explicitly say it, he’s thinking about what you’ll look like when the two of you get married

And when you’re at the wedding basically all your relatives have heard about Peter from your parents are asking when they can meet him

[balancegym]

Meet the CrossFit Balance Regionals Team - RACHEL WEISS

How long have you been doing CrossFit? What are your favorite things about the sport?

I started CrossFit in August of 2012, so It's been over 4 1/2 years now! What I first fell in love with are the results. But I also love the challenge, there is so much to work on, and I think it's so much fun to work on increasing your lifts, or getting that first muscle up. And, like most people I didn't know the first thing about weightlifting before I started CrossFit, and that has been one of the best parts of doing CrossFit. I think a lot of women are intimidated by weight training at first, and I was no exception. I just love the intensity and the group training environment....ok, I guess I love everything!

How many times have you competed in the CrossFit Regionals in the past?

This will be my third Regionals. I competed as part of the CrossFit Resilience team in the North East Region in 2015. Last year I qualified as an individual in the MidAtlantic

What are your goals for the CrossFit Regionals this year?

So this year feels very different. When I went on a team 2 years ago, we literally got the very last spot. We finished in 12th and we were just thrilled to be there. Same sort of thing last year, I didn't expect to qualify as an individual. So I just went in with the mentality to put my best foot forward, and I was happy with that. This year is different, we are coming in as the 1st place team, so the obvious goal is we want to make it to the CrossFit Games. I have never gone to Regionals with that kind of expectation, but I'm a big believer in setting big goals. We want to make the top five.

What are you most looking forward to for the CrossFit Regionals? What are you most nervous about?

I'm most nervous about the pressure, about the expectations, like I said previously, I have never gone into Regionals in that way. But that's also what makes me excited. CrossFit Balance isn't necessarily a team that is on everyone's radar, so I'm excited to come in and show what we can do. I have a lot of confidence in our team and excited just to show what we can do!

How has your training been going so far? How many hours a day do you usually spend training?

Training has been going well. Post open we have shifting up training schedules a bit to maximize the amount of time we have the whole team together, so we can practice things like the worm all together. I typically train 5 days a week, anywhere from 3-5 hours depending on the day.

What does a typical day of training look like for you? A typical week?

Like I said, Regionals training has shifted up my training schedule a bit. But right now I train Tuesday and Wednesday, rest Thursday, and train Friday, Saturday, Sunday (to mimic a Regionals weekend). Week where I am working I will squeeze everything into one big morning session, and on days when I'm not working, or on weekends I'll typically do a morning and an afternoon session.

How often do you train with the rest of the CrossFit Balance team, versus training on your own?

Fortunately, almost all of my training is with at least one of my team members. Some of the guys have to train at different times on week days, but we try to get the whole gang together for the Friday, Saturday, Sunday training. It's not always possible, but we all made a commitment to this team, and prioritizing training together is part of that.

How is it different training for the team competition than as an individual?

It's a completely different mentality. You still have to be on top of your own strength and conditioning, as well as working your weaknesses. But we incorporate a lot more team workouts and lot of synchronized movements (which are a completely different beast). We have to know each other's strengths and weaknesses, work on communication, and moving like a well oiled machine. Missing reps or losing time on the "choreography" of a workout becomes much more important in team workouts. Honestly, a lot of time when we make a workout into a team workout it becomes so much harder, you may have less overall "work", but the amount of time you are working for is at such a crazy high intensity. In a lot of team workouts pacing goes out the window, and for the amount of time you are working, it's a complete sprint.

Are you doing anything different to prepare for the Regionals this year than in previous years?

I think the biggest change is just trying to be a good and supportive teammate. Not that I haven't done that in previous years, but I have more experience under my belt than my last time going team, so really just trying to put my all into every workout and bring positive vibes to every training session. My attitude and my mentality have the ability to affect others, and I try to be mindful of that....I'm not perfect, but even on bad training days, I can have a positive outlook, even if my body doesn't want to cooperate.

Was there anything that surprised you during the CrossFit Open this year? Are there specific times of workouts you're expecting in Regionals this year?

I mean dumbells were the real game changer, that was new. I was surprised we didn't have ring muscle ups this year. I was surprised by how much the last workout hurt me as an individual, but that just gives me something to work and improve on.

For Regionals, heavy weight for sure, I would be surprised if we saw clean and jerks this year for the first time in a while. It's hard to guess, I'm guessing we will see some familiar things, true form running, maybe some heavy dumbells...I would love some d-balls. But the big news, is we are definitely going to see the worm this year!

Are you following a nutrition plan while you're getting ready for regionals? How do you change your nutrition in preparation for the competition?

I'm not following any strict plan. Last year I was counting macros around this time and lost a lot of weight. I'm definitely heavier this year, but I feel stronger, and better at every movement, so I'm not willing to cut, especially if it negatively affects my training. I have a general idea of what macros I need to hit, and I do weigh and measure some meals, but I'm also listening to my body. If I'm hungry, I'm going to eat. I've really just been focusing on more variety, I was getting pretty bored with my regular meals, so working on lean protein, good carbs and quality fats in appropriate ratios, plus lots of veggies. But an indulgence now and again is ok too.

What does a day look like, food-wise? What's your go-to healthy meal, either to make at home or eat on the go?

Like I said, I've been changing it up a bit, just to get more variety. I do a lot of turkey or chicken, white rice, and lots of vegetables. A quick easy meal is to cook up some ground turkey, add salsa and some cumin/chili powder. Serve over spinach and cabbage, with some white rice, olive and a little bit of guacamole. It's super simple, and super yummy, and you can adjust the macros to whatever you need!

How do you balance training for Regionals with everything else in your life? What do you like to do when you're not training?

Well, training does take up most of my time, haha. But I’m also engaged, so I spend a lot of time planning our October wedding, and spending time with my fiance. He is actually a powerlifter here at Balance, so obviously we like to lift together as well.

But other than that, low key things. Going to movies, reading, cooking, and spending time with friends and family. I should add that my best friends in DC are the ladies on the team, which is pretty great for me that I get to spend so much time with my friends!

What's something you wish more people knew about CrossFit/CrossFit competitions/etc.?

Great question! I wish people knew that you didn't have to be as crazy as me to do this. The vast majority of people that do CrossFit do their hour a day, love their gym and see amazing results. I love being competitive with CrossFit, but I also know that people like me may scare off people that could really benefit from CrossFit. CrossFit is for everyone at any fitness level. You just have to be willing to walk in that door, work hard, and check your ego. Just come in and we will help you. I hear so many people say that they would need to get in shape to do CrossFit, which is so frustrating, because CrossFit is how you get in shape! Everyone in this gym is working at their own level. And I just want people to know how inclusive and welcoming CrossFit is. There was a time, over 4 years ago, when I first walked into a CrossFit box, I had no idea what to expect, and I definitely didn't know if would change my life, but I took the plunge, and I haven't looked back since!

[elainescookingforthesoul]

TRANSCRIPT for Episode 1.10 “Astro’s Frito Pie” (PART 2/2)

ACT II

ELAINE: Got another one!

ASTRO: Okay, that was impressive. You dropped that from so high, and that cockroach was moving so fast!

ELAINE: I'm getting pretty good. Shall we start in on this dish? I'm getting pretty hungry.

ASTRO: Let's do it.

ELAINE: Welcome back, listeners! We are sitting here at the LA Dental Clinic with my special guest Astro, who is about to share with us an unbeatable Frito Pie recipe.

ASTRO: That's right! And stay tuned after for a tidbit on working with the contours of your hunger-hollowed cheekbones!

ELAINE: So to start with, we have a trademarked bag of Fritos. We also have a can of black beans, a can of enchilada sauce, and a taco seasoning packet. If you don't have the taco seasoning packet, maybe you have cumin, garlic powder, onion powder, chili powder--a teaspoon each on those--plus maybe a little salt, pepper and cayenne-- should work nicely too, for those lucky enough to have access to such luxuries. But for us being in such a tight spot, it's the taco packet.

ASTRO: Right. So the first step is...uh...opening the bag of chips, obviously.

ELAINE: That's right, and set your one-quart pot to a low heat.

[GAS/WHOOSH]

ASTRO: Yep! Then you, uh...open up the bag of chips. Like, make sure it's really open.

ELAINE: And we'll go ahead and put our whole can of enchilada sauce in and get it to a simmer. 

ASTRO: Yeah, and now that you've fully and thoroughly opened the bag of Fritos, you're almost ready for the next step!

ELAINE: Which is, of course...

ASTRO: Quality control!

[CHOMPING]

ASTRO: Yep, this corn chip tastes pretty good. Take us through the next step, Elaine!

ELAINE: Well, our version is going to be very very simple. I'm going to open up this can of beans, give them a quick rinse in this hand sink here. 

[WATER RUNNING]

ELAINE: And then I'll add those to the pot, too. What's next, Astro?

ASTR: Oh, probably the most important step is...hygiene. I'm going to go wash my hands. While I do that, feel free to hop on to the next step!

ELAINE: Alright. The next step is adding in those dry spices to the bean and enchilada sauce mixture. We mix it all together, get it warmed through, and set up our dishes.

ASTRO: Most diseases are spread through the fingernails, you know! That’s facts!

[CHIPS POUR IN BOWL]

ELAINE: That is simply false, but I'm too hungry to get into it. I'm just pouring a large amount of Fritos into two bowls here...

[BEAN/SAUCE PLOPS]

ELAINE: And then I'll pour the bean and sauce all mixed up here on top.

ASTRO: Wow, that lavender vanilla handsoap is de-lish. Okay, what step are we on?

ELAINE: Just the eating step!

ASTRO: Wow! Things go so much faster when you work as a team, huh?

ELAINE: Yeah, that is true, typically. Shall we?

ASTRO: Let's!

[CRUNCH]

ASTRO: Um, Elaine?

ELAINE: Hm?

ASTRO: This is amazing!

ELAINE: Oh, I'm glad you think so! I think in different times I would top with avocado, maybe some cilantro or even a little sour cream. But as is, I think it's pretty serviceable.

ASTRO: It's the best thing I've had in months!

ELAINE: I'm so glad to hear that. It's really nothing spectacular when you first heard of it, but I like to think that with a little love and enthusiasm, even the most simple dishes can be special. 

ASTRO: Mmm hmm totally hear you. Love it. Elaine. Do you know what I've noticed about you since we started talking?

ELAINE: Oh, do I have something in my teeth again?

ASTRO: No--you have an entrepreneurial spirit. I'd love to coach you a little to bring it all the way to the forefront so others can appreciate it.

ELAINE: Thank you, Astro. I don't think it's in the budget for now, but I'll keep it in mind.

ASTRO: It's worth every ration, I swear. For six avocados, you get a weekly update from me with some crazy-good inspo. But for six avocados, two ounces triple cream brie, and a bag of Cara Cara oranges, you get all that inspirational stuff, plus my beauty 

slash living life hacks and a handwritten thank-you letter written by yours truly.  

ELAINE: Wait--who--how--who is giving you fresh produce? I haven't seen anything fresh come out of the earth since the nuclear exchange! I was told none existed!

ASTRO: It's really all about networking, Elaine. Mm. This Frito pie, though!

ELAINE: You must be really good at connecting to the right people.

ASTRO: Aw, you're so sweet! You're good at things too, Elaine! Look at all these cockroach friends you captured tonight.

ELAINE: I guess...

ASTRO: Well, Elaine, I'm gonna let you go.

ELAINE: Oh. Okay.

ASTRO: Yeah, seriously, I know you have other things to get into, so I'm gonna let you get to it.

ELAINE: You don't have to leave immediately--

ASTRO: You're such a busy woman, I'm gonna give you the power to just kick me out.

ELAINE: I mean, alright. Bye!

ASTRO: Stawp! Honestly, you are a dream, Elaine! Keep that Virgo energy going! Mwah! 

[DOOR BELL JANGLES]

ELAINE: Well, I'll give Astro this--they really know how to do exactly what they want to do. Oranges! I thought fresh produce was forever lost to irradiated soil, a disrupted climate, and the ravaging of mutated livestock! Am I at the wrong ration swaps? I mean, no offense to our sponsor, of course...Anyway...folks, what we're learning more and more each day is that humanity--what's left of it--strives for connection. It's our curse to both distrust and need one another. We will traverse unlikely roads and endure unimaginable discomfort to be with the ones we love, or to find a place we can live and grow and be in peace, or to find the right flavor of Sour Punch Straw. It's rarely an easy journey, but we could do each other a service if every one of us only extends even the tiniest bit of empathy...I suppose it's time to let my insect-friends loose. After all, I too would like to wander freely without the stifling gaze of unseen forces curtaining and curtailing the small joys of my small existence. Before I let them--and you--go, please consider following this humble podcast. As you know, I sprinkle in coded hints as to where the prearranged drop-off spot is in each episode.  You can then find the tooth-shaped mini-USB I have cleverly hidden somewhere in LA, download the episodes, return the device to its hidey-hole and tell your friends where to find it. It's a lot, I know. I remember it like this: follow, download, share. Follow... download...share. You can also email me at ElainemartinezDDS@LAdentalcare.org.

Remember: you are not alone out there. The provisional government is definitely reading our emails, so be, you know, nice and nondescript. Until next time, this has been Elaine Martínez, not crying, hugging you goodnight.

END OF ACT II.