#i usually like sweet and sour but that wasn't an option so...

[spybiote]

;˒˒ 𝟗 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫!

last song i listened to : Boss Bitch - Doja Cat

favourite colour : all shades of green!

currently watching : Love On The Spectrum, The Brothers Sun, Blue Eyed Samurai

last movie / tv show i watched : Oppenheimer

spicy / savory / sweet : spicy & sweet!

relationship status : in a relationship!

last thing i googled : What are Goya Beans?

current obsession: my cat always, corn, watercolour painting

Tagged by: @hexsreality

Tagging: @ppctts @wormholxtreme @dr-foster @risingod @wnterslder @viperbit @ncmad @thunderbringer @thenamesallison @cosmicrayed @hwkeyejr @dusktrip @spidergene @voyennayavdova @dereiserne @dcmur3 @haiiling

[simp4wom3n]

The Quiet One Pt III

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: After moving to New York with Tara to escape their past, y/n finds themselves desperate to keep her girlfriend safe, especially when a new killer is on the loose. ~ Word Count: 7.526k ~ Warnings: Scream VI spoilers, graphic descriptions of blood and gore, swearing (I think that's everything)

A/N: Hi!!! part 3 is finally here!! i'm sorry it took so long I have actually been so fkn busy its a lil painful I won't lie. This one also took a while to write so hopefully you guys like it - and yes there will be a pt 4 coming soon. <3

Pt1 ~ Pt2 ~ Pt3 ~ Pt4 ~ Pt5

A packed frat party with dizzying lights and deafening music wasn't the typical place you chose to reflect, yet here you were, sitting on an old couch, drink in hand, dressed in a pirate costume with your fellow crewmate nowhere to be found.

Moving to New York was easily one of the better decisions you had ever made. Escaping the small town of Woodsboro that provided you with nothing but nightmares felt like a breath of fresh air. As a matter of fact, the only thing you were glad that Woodsboro gave you was Tara.

You had been dating since your shared 3-day nightmare over 6 months ago, and your relationship grew stronger every day. That was at least until something shifted. Something in the way Tara looked at you had changed. The usual squeal of happiness at the sight of you was replaced with an almost irritated sigh. Your presence becoming more of a burden for the girl than a blessing.

Sure, you were overprotective. How couldn't you be? She was quite literally all that you had left. Sam, Mindy, Chad. They were all there, but none of them knew you like Tara did. None of them loved you like Tara did.

After the two of you were Richie and Amber's 'pin cushions', you ultimately decided you were sick of being the loner that everybody could take advantage of. The small, insignificant girl that everyone laughed at and made fun of. The weak punching bag that gets stabbed and shot on repeat.

Instead of relishing every opportunity to be alone, you now practically hate to be alone, the horror of the attacks leaving deep and permanent wounds. You rarely distanced yourself from Tara. When being with her was impossible, going to the gym with Chad was your next best option.

Although you didn't see the point at first, you quickly realised that the extra muscle would not only help you regain the strength you'd lost due to your extensive wounds, but it would also improve your ability to protect Tara, or more specifically, beat the shit out of anyone who tried to touch her.

Unfortunately, your overbearing need to protect Tara landed you in this position. Painfully reminded of what should be by Mindy and Anika's cuddling less than a few metres away from you, you blankly stare at the array of drunk teens in front of you, singing and swaying to the music whilst probably eyeing up their next hook-up.

"You alright there, y/n?" Anika's sweet voice breaks you out of your drunken haze, your sour mood and distant stare evidently not as concealed as you thought. "Yeah, fine... I'm getting another drink" You chug the rest of your drink, the poorly mixed liquid burning the back of your throat as your face scrunches at the taste, before you push yourself up off the couch, not particularly interested in a drunk heart-to-heart conversation.

Stumbling your way through the crowd, mumbling "excuse me"s and "sorry"s to every person you bump into, you make your way towards the kitchen to steal what was left of the cheap liquor.

Your muffled apologies were cut off when a strong shoulder barged into you, almost knocking you off your feet. Your drunken gaze quickly turns towards the inconsiderate asshole who ran into you, your face scrunched in annoyance until your eyes catch a glimpse of a familiar bandana.

"Tara?" Her clearly intoxicated eyes met yours briefly as she was dragged through the crowds, her arm being pulled by a dude you presumed to be an egotistical frat boy. Every ounce of alcohol left your system as you sobered up instantly, your feet quickly following their trail despite having to shove past a few unhappy partygoers.

"Tara!" you exclaim as you catch up to them on the stairs, where Tara walks in front of the jackass, willingly leading herself into an inevitable death trap. Her head turns to face you, a look of disappointment on her face that you try to brush off. "She's good down here." You sarcastically smile at the boy, grabbing Taras's arm as you gently try to pull her back down the stairs.

"Come on, let's go" "No, y/n... It's fine, I want to" "Wha-" "See y/n... she wants to" The douchebag smirks as he firmly grabs ahold of Tara's other arm, forcibly dragging her up the stairs as she loses her footing. Her grunts of pain cause every last bit of your patience to evaporate as you run up the stairs after her.

"Get your fucking hands off her!" you yell violently, yanking him down the steps by the shirt. His back collides with the wall, forcing him to stumble before regaining his footing and charging towards you. "Get the fuck off of me!" he yells, but you hold your ground. "You want to go motherfucker? Ok." Tara's protests from behind you go unheard as you uppercut him hard in the chin, his head jerking backwards as he falls to the ground in agony, blood spilling from his lips.

"Touch her again, and I'll send you to the hospital next time", You threaten him, your eyes catching a glimpse of Sam appearing out of the crowd, a slight smirk on her lips at the scene in front of her - she loved the new you.

"Y/n?!" Your focus is stolen from your moment of victory as you turn around and are met with a furious Tara. "Are you fucking kidding me?!" She scoffed in disbelief, shaking her head before she carelessly pushed past you, her shoulder bumping into you.

"Dammit"

"Tara! Will you stop?" you called after her as she continued walking quickly away from you, the rest of the group following behind you. Was the punch a little overboard? Maybe, but at the end of the day, that dude had it coming.

"I cannot believe you did that.", she yelled at you, her tone laced with irritation. "That guy was a dick. He was going to take advantage of you!" "So?!". Your jaw dropped as she finally faced you, her face purely showing frustration. No sarcasm, no guilt, nothing. You couldn't believe what you had just heard. The thought of Tara consciously allowing herself to be dragged away by some guy that would undoubtedly take advantage of her, or worse, infuriated you.

"So?! What the fuck do you mean so?!" "Maybe I didn't care because at least I would finally get away from you!... I mean, look, y/n... you're looking out for me, I get that, I appreciate that, but you never leave me alone unless it is physically fucking impossible for you to be there... you have to let me go." Her harsh tone softened the more she spoke, perhaps realising the words that were falling from her mouth as she stared into your tear-ridden eyes.

"Let you go?" you grinned wryly as tears streamed down your cheeks. "How do you expect me to do that, Tara? I love you... You are literally all that I have left. You are all that I care about. I-I moved to fucking New York because of you, like... I-I can't."

Despite Tara's gaze softening at your cries, your heart cracked as you realised that you were hanging onto her by a thread. Uncontrollable sobs began to escape you as your hand attempted to keep them in. A mixture of embarrassment and guilt washed over you as you turned on your heels and ran off towards the apartment you, unfortunately, shared with the gorgeous girl you were running away from.

In times like these, you resented the fact that you shared a bedroom with Tara.

Before you ran away, you thought you saw a flash of guilt in Tara's eyes, a thought which helped somewhat soothe your racing thoughts as you verged on the edge of a breakdown.

She was right. She always was. You never left her alone, that was true, but you couldn't let her go. You just couldn't. It had been months since Dewey was brutally taken from you, and you still have nightmares about it. She knew that. She was the one who used to comfort you when you would wake up in a cold sweat, the pictures of Dewey lying dead on the floor fresh in your mind.

You used to think you had no love to give, but now it seemed you had too much.

The rest of the group had returned to the apartment shortly after you barged down the door with tears streaming down your face. You had taken cover in Sam's room, knowing that Tara would similarly seek the comfort of your shared bedroom once she got home.

When you heard the front door slam shut and the shuffling of footsteps outside the closed bedroom door, you shot to your feet as you checked over yourself in Sam's mirror, hoping to wipe away the remnants of your recent meltdown, the weight of Tara's words still pulling on you.

With one last deep breath, you turned the door handle slowly and softly, a slight creak escaping its worn hinges. When you poked your head around the corner, you noticed your bedroom light was on, and the door was wide open, which you took as a sign of Tara's presence.

Slowly padding softly across the wooden floor into the living room, you spot Mindy sitting on the couch as Chad and Sam move around the kitchen. Mindy's kind eyes land on your dishevelled figure as you sluggishly approach her, falling back into the sofa next to her with a distant look on your face.

"You alright there, matey?". Your brows furrowed slightly at Mindy's odd choice of wording before realising you were still in your pirate costume. You chuckled slightly as you wiped at your eyes, your head nodding subtly as you gave the girl a small smile.

You sat silently for a moment, the sound of cupboards opening and closing echoing from the kitchen as Chad appeared to be searching for something. "Go talk to her.". Your eyes shifted back to the girl sitting next to you, a knowing look on her face as she smiled at you gently. You glanced toward your bedroom, watching Quinn exit the room before Chad entered, closing the door behind him.

Your jaw clenched slightly as your gaze returned to Mindy, a hesitant look on your face. "I don't think that's a good idea." You spoke softly, knowing she was upset because you wouldn't leave her alone, so there was no point. "Oh, come on, you know you want to. Just go. Go, go, go." Mindy shooed you off the couch and towards your room, your eyes landing on the door as if you were about to enter your worst nightmare.

Your hesitancy to enter caused Quinn to beat you to it, opening the door suddenly, mumbling something about her phone. You stood back, waiting for her to leave so you could try and talk to Tara. Or at least that was your plan until you heard Quinrn say something that made your heart sink.

"Did I cockblock you?"

The rest of the conversation from the room didn't help as your eyes were welled with tears. What the fuck was Chad doing with Tara in your bedroom for Quinn to say that. You harshly bit your lip in an attempt to calm yourself, an attempt which failed miserably as Chad exited the room and saw you, his face immediately stricken with guilt.

"Fuck this"

Before he could put together some fake apology, you were already turning around and bolting towards the front door. Grabbing your jumper and keys from the nearby hooks, you slid your shoes on as you shakily undid the many locks keeping you trapped inside this godforsaken apartment.

Ignoring the worried look from Mindy, when you finally got the door open, you practically jumped out of the apartment and slammed the door behind you.

Sobs wracked your body as you ran down the decrepit stairs and out the door onto the dark street. You knew it was prime time for a Ghostface attack, but at this point, you were happy to be the live bait.

Dragging your heavy feet up the winding stairs, your energy has completely depleted after your last hour of wandering through New York's streets. You didn't even have the power to think coherently, your mind completely blank as you scaled the stairs towards your apartment.

After aimlessly staring at your feet as you trek towards your door, you only pick your head up once you reach the top of the staircase. The front door was wide open. An unfamiliar figure stood in the doorway watching the TV whilst what appeared to be your entire friend group watched with them.

Sniffling and wiping away the tear tracks from your cheeks as you stalked towards your door, you entered slowly and rounded the male figure, a person you now recognised as 'the hot guy next door'. You looked at him queryingly before your eyes scanned the rest of the room, everyone looking glaringly concerned.

When your gaze finally lands on the TV, your heart sinks as you read the headline. Another ghostface attack. "What the fuck is going on?" your voice causes everyone's heads to turn towards you, some of them unaware of your presence until now. Your posture shrunk even further as everyone glared at you - some were soft, whilst others were deadly.

"Where were you?" Tara asked, a mixture of anger and concern laced in her tone. You hesitated. You didn't feel like voicing to the whole room how you had walked around aimlessly whilst sobbing and attracting weird and worried stares from random people.

"Just on a walk. Needed some fresh air." Your voice was quiet as you spoke, your eyes never leaving Tara's. She noticed how red and puffy yours were, how tears had stained your cheeks despite your blatant attempt at hiding it.

"Impeccable timing", you heard Chad mutter quietly, probably thinking you wouldn't hear it. Your gaze shifted to him as you looked at him insulted. The fact that he was even insinuating that you could have had something to do with it made your blood boil.

"Pack a bag. We leave in ten." "Sam, wait, Sam!". Sam walked quickly into the kitchen, Tara hot on her tail. You were too focused on the idea that now, because of your sulking, everyone in this room no longer trusts you. Tara might not trust you.

With a blank stare, you drag yourself further into the living room before collapsing on the couch Tara had previously occupied. You instantly brought your knees to your chest and buried your head in them, tears beginning to resurface as it appeared the world hated you more than ever.

Surrounded by Tara's perfume, you tried and failed to wrap your head around the returning nightmare that was brewing. Not only were you losing your grip on your beloved girlfriend, but you were now likely about to face up against another psycho who wanted nothing more than to see your and your friends' bodies dead in the ground.

As Tara and Sam's argument migrated back into the living room whilst Quinn phoned her dad, the sound of Sam's phone ringing echoing through the room caused you to flinch, your body beginning to involuntarily shake.

When she hung up on the caller, you breathed a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, your relief was short-lived, as you noticed Sam's face drop after she talked to Quinn's dad. She hung up the phone with a sorrowful yet determined look on her face, "I have to go to the station", she spoke as she moved to leave the apartment.

Before anyone could stop her, she was out the door, yet your eyes shifted towards Tara's sporadic movements as she searched for her jacket. "I'm going with her", she finally spoke after noticing everyone's questioning eyes.

As she reached the apartment door, she looked over her shoulder at you expectantly, almost anticipating that you would follow her. On any other day, you would, but at that moment, you selfishly decided that you were too hurt to follow after her.

After all, she didn't want your protection. Right?

You missed the look of disappointment on her face as you averted your eyes from her, instead choosing to focus on the TV. Clenching her jaw and nodding subtly, Tara turned back around and ran down the stairs after her sister.

You soon realised that letting her go was one of the worst decisions you had made to date.

They had been attacked. Of course, they had been attacked. The one time you let your emotions get the better of you, Tara almost ended up dead.

You knew the world hated you.

When you had gotten the call from Quinn's dad about the attack, you had never run so fast. You sprinted straight down to the station, desperate to see your girlfriend and make sure she was ok, even if she didn't want to see you.

When detective Bailey finally released them, you sat anxiously in an old and uncomfortable chair at the entrance to the station, your leg bouncing vigorously as your teeth dug into your bottom lip.

The sound of approaching footsteps caused your head to whip upwards, your eyes landing on Tara and Sam, visible injuries nowhere to be found on either of them.

You got to your feet quickly, standing impossibly straight as the girls finally reached you. You took a second to scan Tara, double and even triple checking that she was ok. That she wasn't hurt.

You wouldn't forgive yourself if she was.

Releasing a shaky sigh of relief, you softly nodded, whispering, "I'm glad you're ok", before turning on your heels and heading towards the door. Tara's face scrunched slightly at your behaviour, unsure why your usually confident and over-the-top personality was so... dull?

She kept her gaze on you as she followed you out the door, only to be surrounded by a bunch of reporters. Microphones and cameras were shoved in your face, and questions were hurled left and right.

You had to fight the urge to put your arm around Tara's shoulders, your head and heart at war as you still failed to comprehend how Tara felt. Whether she still loved you or not. Whether she would welcome your touch or not. You had no idea.

With the end of the sea of paparazzi finally in sight, you were seconds away from escaping until a familiar voice filled your ears.

"Gale Weathers. Channel 4."

The three of you simultaneously spun around with shock and disgust on your faces. "Do you ladies think you're the reason the Ghostface killer has come to the big apple?". You scoffed at her words, earning a raised brow from the woman.

Sam humourlessly chuckled in disbelief before you watched her swing a punch at Gale. The crowd of press gasped as Gale somehow dodged the hit altogether, a smug smirk making its way onto her face. "Nice try, sweetie, but I've done this dance before."

Your want to wipe that smug smile off her face was satisfyingly fulfilled as Tara punched her straight in the face, knocking her back as another gasp filled the air. You couldn't help but smile as Gale turned around, her mouth agape while holding her cheek.

"Stay away from us.". Regardless of your current problems, you had never felt more in love with Tara as she walked away without another glance in Gale's direction. The smile still lingered on your lips as you moved to follow the girls away from the cameras. To your dissatisfaction, Gale followed.

Listening to Gale try to justify herself for writing about what happened in Woodsboro all those months ago just made you more infuriated. 'Those fuckers can die in anonymity' is what she had said.

Yet look at her now.

When Sam mentioned what Dewey would think, you immediately tensed up, your gaze dropping to your feet as you sucked in a breath. Knowing that any mention of Dewey's name triggered you, Tara's gaze momentarily lingered on you before she returned to the conversation.

You zoned out of the rest of said conversation, only picking your head back up when Sam and Tara started to walk away. You watched as they headed towards a taxi while you began to walk back to the apartment.

"Y/n? Where are you going?" Tara's soft voice caused you to turn back, her eyes questioning you as her brows frowned slightly. "I-I was just gonna walk home... you kn-" "Get in." Tara interjected, earning a surprised look from you. "I-" "Y/n, get in the damn taxi." "Ok."

Just like before, she still had complete control over you. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't say no to her. You watched as the two sisters entered the taxi before you rounded the car and followed on the other side. With the three of you in the back seat and Tara in the dreaded middle seat, avoiding physical contact with Tara was impossible as your shoulders and thighs brushed against each other.

Nothing but the faint hum of the radio filled the backseat as the vehicle drove away from the station. This distance, or lack of it, between you and Tara, was both comfortable and unsettling. You hadn't taken your eyes away from her hand, conveniently situated on her thigh, barely inches from yours.

The need to grasp her hand grew too strong for you to resist, so you gently brushed her pinky finger with yours before proceeding to intertwine your fingers. You mentally sighed at the softness of her delicate hand as soon as it was within your grasp.

Holy shit, you had missed her touch.

With the back of her hand facing upwards, your fingers gently moving against her knuckles, you studied her scar, which had served as a daily reminder of what the two of you had gone through together.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there... I should've -" "It's ok." Your eyes finally met hers as she gave you a warm smile, reassuringly squeezing your hand. "But what if you got hurt?" "I didn't... that's all that matters." Your eyes had begun to water slightly, the guilt of letting her go resurfacing as you looked her dead in the eyes. She gently leaned in and kissed your cheek sweetly before allowing you to rest your head on her shoulder.

Maybe everything was going to be alright after all.

"Ok nerds, listen up."

Mindy's monologue. A staple of the so-called 'franchise' you were tied up in. The whole friend group gathered on the grounds of your college, preparing to hear the numerous rules that undoubtedly come with the new title of this fucked up nightmare you were all living.

"Rule one! Everything is bigger than last time."

Great. Already off to a fantastic start. As Mindy began to explain what that meant, you grew increasingly concerned, not for your own safety, but for Tara's.

"Rule two! Whatever happened last time, expect the opposite."

Even better. Now, It apparently made no difference whether you had gone through this once before or not. To be honest, the idea of a serial killer following the conventions of a movie was still absurd and utterly terrifying to you, knowing full well what kind of fucked up shit happens in horror movies.

"And Rule three, no one is safe."

If your heart wasn't already racing, it was now hammering out of your chest as the gravity of the situation became clear. Tara shifted next to you at Mindy's comments, evidently similarly disturbed by the new rules.

But what frightened you the most was what Mindy said next. "Any of us could go at any time... especially Sam and Tara.". You had never felt so sick. You could feel beads of sweat dripping down the back of your neck as you nervously turned towards your girlfriend, fear overtaking your features.

Her eyes met yours briefly with a matching look of concern as Mindy started listing out the suspects. You had to admit Mindy was really good at this whole monologue thing, naming all the apparent suspects and their motives with ease.

That was until she looked in your direction.

"And finally, y/n.". You looked at her with wide eyes before your head rapidly scanned everyone else to see if you were the only one who didn't expect this. "The jealous girlfriend of the Tara Carpenter... who is also now, apparently, jacked.". You shook your head in denial. There was no way this was happening.

"Mindy, w-what? How come I'm a suspect? I mean, I was there for Woodsboro like you guys were... w-why?" you said, gesturing to the so-called 'core four' completely confused. A sense of betrayal was beginning to rise within you as Mindy continued to look at you with an almost sympathetic smile.

"Never trust the love interest," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "And besides, you have literally nothing to lose." Your mouth fell open. You inhaled sharply to keep your tears at bay, the comment being a ridiculously low blow from someone who typically looked out for you. "No parents, no Dewey. Even before the Woodsboro attack, you had no friends."

"Mindy!?" you heard Tara protest from next to you, clearly upset by her words. You sat in silence for a moment, processing what Mindy had said, and as much as you hated to admit it, she was right.

"No... she's right," you spoke sadly as you nodded your head, "But that's also why it wouldn't be me. I love Tara. I couldn't do anything to hurt her... ever.". You could feel Tara's eyes on you as you stared at Mindy, practically begging her to believe you, not that it mattered, seeing you weren't the killer.

But as far as everyone else was concerned, it very well could be you.

You were still slightly shaken from the group conversation a few hours ago, the realisation that you had nothing to lose playing on your mind as you sat on the couch with Anika. The 'core four' were too busy laughing whilst preparing dinner in the kitchen, whilst you spoke drearily with Anika.

"Have you guys talked about it?" Anika spoke, referring to your fight with Tara the other night. She did her best to comfort and guide you through your suffocating thoughts, your heavy bags under your eyes speaking volumes after another sleepless night. "Not really, no." "Why not?" "I don't know... We haven't really had the time, but I'm also just scared to bring it up."

Despite your new tough(er) exterior, you were still just as soft on the inside as you were before your meek existence got flipped on its head. "Well, I know for a fact that she loves you, and you love her. Your Y/n and Tara, you'll power through." Anika speaks softly, a playful smile playing on her lips as your head bobs gently, letting her words soak in.

"Yeah, well. I sure hope so." You finally move your gaze away from the girl sitting across from you, your tired eyes now landing on the TV screen as the news plays. Just as you begin to relax and enjoy the rest of your night, a new headline flashes across the bottom of the screen, erasing any traces of joy from your face.

'Sam Carpenter Named as Prime Suspect'

"Um, guys?" you shouted from your seat, loud enough to reach the others in the kitchen, whilst leaning forward to grab the remote. Turning the volume up as you hear footsteps enter the room behind you, your face scrunched in confusion as a video of Sam plays whilst the reporter's words make her out to be a psycho.

You risk a glance behind you. Sam's expression was completely blank as the light from the TV flickered on her face. You felt bad for her. You truly did. You struggle to grasp the fact that your friends didn't entirely trust you, and here she was with the entirety of New York being told she was the killer.

You were so preoccupied with the idea that the news dared to make this a story that you didn't notice Tara's eyes shifting to you. Her gaze has been drawn to your worn face. Your ordinarily bright eyes were heavy and unfocused as you stared in bewilderment at the television. She felt terrible about what she said to you a few nights before, and her heart only broke when she discovered how much damage her words had caused.

When Sam hastily turned the TV off and left the room, Tara's eyes left your figure briefly as she watched her sister move to sit solemnly at the dining table. She sighed defeatedly, the effects of Ghostface on the two of you shining brighter than they ever had before. Tara spared you one last worried glance before she followed her sister out of the room.

Chad and Mindy ultimately followed the girls, leaving you and Anika in stunned silence. The air in the room became unusually silent, the old pleasant chat between the two of you suffocated by the apartment's new tension and terror.

You sunk deeper into the couch as you pulled your legs up to your chest, the thick air ultimately releasing slightly as the sound of laughter flowed through the living room from the dining area. Tara's laughter rang in your ears, a sound you had so desperately missed.

You thought you felt her stare on you earlier, but you were too terrified to face it, your conversation with Anika still fresh in your memory. You leant your head against your knees and slowly closed your eyes, the general sound of genuine joy filling your ears as your breathing slowed and your body relaxed for the first time in ages.

You take a moment, revelling in your newfound tranquillity, to think on the emotional rollercoaster you had been sentenced to ride. Tara's love for you had never been questioned, and it wasn't her you didn't trust the night you stormed out. You knew she'd never cheat on you (or so you hoped), but you were unable to avoid what was staring you in the face.

Both at the party and in the comfort of your own home, someone you trusted and some random frat boy had come disturbingly close to finally severing the thread on which you dangled from the end of. You were holding on to Tara with your life, completely and totally unwilling to let go.

You heard the laughter slowly die before a harmony of notifications dinged throughout the apartment. You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket as you and Anika exchanged a confused glance. Hesitantly pulling your phone out of your pocket, you blinked in numbed horror as a photo of Quinn being attacked by Ghostface opened on your screen.

With the previously unheard sound of groans and bangs filling the apartment, you and Anika bolt up from the couch as the others run into the room, eyes focused on Quinn's door. Tara runs towards the door, but you instinctively grab her arm and pull her back towards you.

The feeling of her skin on yours makes your heart skip a rapid beat. You attempted to hide how her touch had affected you as you stepped in front of her, happily offering yourself up to essentially be her meat shield.

Despite your scars burning at the thought, you would much rather be the one to get stabbed if it meant Tara would be ok.

The noises of a struggle ceased as you all stood frozen, your eyes locked on the bedroom door. The silence was deafening. Your dry lips parted in silent terror, unsure whether to breathe or to scream. A single drop of sweat slowly crept its way down your forehead, the suspense reaching an all-time high.

"Run."

You recoiled in horror as the door burst open, Quinn's mangled and bloodied body being thrown out. Anika let out a piercing scream as the body collided with her, taking her to the ground with it. You try to ignore the gruesome sight in front of you as you focus on helping Anika up off the floor.

"Y/n!" Your head whipped around at the sound of Tara's distressed scream. "Wait, Y/n! Come on!" You watched in horror as Chad dragged her out the front door, leaving the rest of you to try and fight off the killer that was standing in front of you.

"Shit. Tara!" When you had Anika back on her feet, you instantly tried to follow your girlfriend. If Chad were to have learnt anything from what you had gone through, you would think it would be to not split up. That is the number one rule in legitimately every horror movie.

"Rookie."

You made the fatal mistake of assuming they were foolish enough to allow another person to escape while scrambling towards the door in a rush to avoid the killer's gaze. The others in the room watched in horror as the masked assailant slashed their knife upward, slicing directly through your left eye.

A grotesque scream erupted from your chest as you fell back onto the floor. The left side of your face felt like it erupted in flames, a powerful throbbing, making it impossible for you to think as the world spun around you. With your good eye, you watched as a steady stream of blood poured out of your gaping wound, which spanned from your jaw and through your eyebrow.

The left side of your face was paralysed with pain unlike any you had felt before. You tried to apply pressure to it with your shaky hands, but the moment your cold fingers touched your split flesh, another broken scream escaped your lips as a wave of nausea washed over you.

Mindy and Anika's screams flew straight over your head as you kneeled on the floor, the taste of blood flooding your senses as the pool of blood underneath you grew wider by the second. You didn't notice Sam's arms hauling you up off the floor until her face came into your now-restricted field of vision.

"S-Sam," you sobbed, her eyes widening and her face turning pale as she saw your profusely bleeding wound. She didn't say anything as she carried your broken form into Quinn's blood-splattered room with Mindy and Anika. She let you go the moment you walked into the room, closing and locking the door behind her to keep Ghostface from following you.

The banging on the door shook the entire room as you worked hard to slow your breathing. As you stood up, the adrenaline in your system began to kick in, and the banging at the door ceased as Sam's troubled gaze met yours.

"Y/n! Bathroom door! Hurry!" Sam whispered desperately towards you as she maintained her iron grip on the bedroom door handle. Turning your head too hastily towards the door, your vision blurred from blood loss and genuine blood falling into your eye as you lurched towards it as swiftly as you could.

As you passed through the bathroom, your hands left bloody handprints on the walls, your journey delayed by the disgustingly disfigured body of one of Quinn's many lovers - you could never tell the difference. With tears dripping from one eye and blood from the other, you returned your focus to the open doorway.

As your eyes left the mangled body, the sight of the infamous Ghostface mask made you jump as yet another scream left your lips. Your reflexes were quick as you reached for the door, trying to close it before the killer got in, but in your weakened state, they easily pushed the door back open, knocking you back as you stumbled into Sam.

They took another swing at you, thankfully missing as Sam pulled you away before you lost another eye. The two of you quickly retreated into the bedroom before you successfully slammed the door shut. Mindy joined you in trying to keep the door shut by fiddling with the lock while Ghostface proceeded to kick it down.

The room shook violently as you and Sam pushed a dresser towards the door, hoping it would serve as a better barricade. Finally getting it in front of the door, you and Mindy stood firm as you continued to resist Ghostface's merciless attempts to tear the door down.

You could feel your adrenaline beginning to wear off as the paralysing pain returned to your face. Peering down, you noticed how your blood had stained a large amount of your skin a dark crimson colour. 'That's a lot of blood.'.

Scrunching your face in pain only caused another wave to hit you as you whimpered. "What are we gonna do, f-fuck." You whispered to yourself brokenly, closing your eye as you tried to ignore the fact you were being violently shaken by someone who wanted nothing more than to kill all of you.

With your only good eye shut, you failed to notice as Sam opened the window and pulled a ladder across from her boyfriend's apartment until she yelled, "You guys go first!". Your eye snapped open at her words as you took in what was happening.

You stayed silent as Mindy argued with Sam, eventually leading to Sam crossing the ladder first whilst you continued holding your makeshift barricade. Once Sam had crossed, Mindy looked towards you. "Go, Mindy.", you spoke assertively. She tried to argue with you, but you were having none of it. "Mindy, go! I've got the door. Just get across the fucking ladder!".

Despite your vision being impaired by your own warm blood, you watched with a ghost of a smile as Mindy and Anika exchanged a sweet kiss before Mindy climbed out the window. You suppose that was one positive about everything that was happening. As far as you knew, Tara was safe, and that was all you needed.

The banging at the door grew louder as Mindy cautiously climbed the ladder. Your frail body was being pushed around by the shaky door as you yelled furiously, "Mindy! "Please hurry!" When she finally made it to the other side, you groaned and turned your attention to Anika, who was bleeding out on the end of the bed.

"Anika, go.". Her wet eyes shot up to yours, looking at you as if you were insane. "Go, Anika. Please.". A few extra tears slipped from her eyes at your words, your complacency at being left alone to die hitting her harder than she expected. You gave her one final nod before she started climbing out the window.

Your grip on the door was slipping with each passing second, the constant banging and rattling eventually leading your feet to slip on the pool of blood that had accumulated beneath you - whose blood? Nobody knows. As you plummeted to the floor, the door shattered behind you, your gaze immediately moving to Anika, who was still less than halfway across the ladder.

"Shit. Shit. Shit." you mumbled desperately as you watched Ghostface finally stalk through the doorway with you in his sight. That was at least until he heard Anika's whimpers from outside the window, causing their masked face to follow her cries. Their head tilted menacingly as their path changed, no longer walking towards you but stalking up behind Anika.

You could hear her panicked cries from your place on the floor, and despite your natural relief that you weren't the chosen target, there was no way in hell you were letting them touch Anika.

You scramble to your feet as Ghostface stabs their knife into the window sill, grabbing the back of their robe and pulling them away from the window with every ounce of strength. As you swing your arm at them, missing their head and instead hitting the headboard, they stumble back into the bed with a grunt.

You didn't quite calculate how you would fight them, seeing you were basically blind, but that probably would have been a good idea.

"Dammit," you mutter worriedly as you trip backwards, your bruised knuckles doing no good as Ghostface stands back up and elbows you directly in your fresh, gaping wound. A hoarse scream escapes your throat as you collapse onto the ground in agony.

Your agonising screams could be heard across the ladder, forcing those on the other side to panic even more. When they saw Ghostface reappearing at the window, their shouts and pleading grew louder as they tried to urge Anika to come across.

Waves of pain shot through your entire body as you curled up on the floor, sobbing hysterically as you couldn't move no matter how hard you tried, absolutely paralysed by the pain.

As you tried to lift yourself off the floor, the sound of Anika's screams resonated in your ears, combined with the violent shaking of the ladder. At this stage, you were crying violently, knowing that if you didn't hurry up and get your shit together, Anika would be their next victim.

All because you couldn't handle the pain.

You leapt off the ground in a final fit of rage, lunging at Ghostface to throw them off-balance until they eventually backed away from the ladder.

It wasn't until now that you noticed the lack of Anika's screams.

Your face paled as you briefly looked out the window. Your blurry vision was met with a glaringly empty ladder and a completely distraught Mindy. Your lips began to quiver as your eyes met Mindy's, the tears that fell down her cheeks telling you everything you needed to know.

Your heartbreak quickly turned into pure rage at yourself and Ghostface.

Your breathing grew thin and ragged as you turned back to the tall black figure, your body shaking with rage. You could almost feel their arrogance from where you stood, evidently relishing seeing you distressed.

They ripped their knife from the window sill before tossing it playfully in their hand. You, on the other hand, remained unfazed, solely concerned with the idea that this mother fucker was going to suffer for what he had just done. You rapidly ducked as their knife swung towards your head before smashing your fist into their masked jaw, their shrouded form staggering backwards at the impact.

"You. Fucking. Asshole." You spoke as you continued to throw punches at them, your rage fuelling every last bit of energy you had left. Ghostface appeared to be taken aback by your sudden outburst, at a complete loss as to what to do with their knife remaining useless in their hand as they try to protect themselves from your furious blows.

With one final punch to the face, their body crashed into the wall behind them, as they fell unconscious. With tears falling consistently down your face, you gave the killer one last look as you stood up and backed away towards the window (you never trusted them to actually be unconscious). The others began yelling your name in relief and desperation when they saw you, assuming you were dead after single-handedly defeating the madman.

Their calls broke you out of your rage-filled trance as you sucked in a large breath before looking across the ladder towards them. The pain was beginning to resurface as you felt your knees start to buckle underneath you.

"Y/n! let's go, come on!" Sam called out to you, desperation laced in her voice. You climbed out the window with one last glance at the body before you. As Anika's body came into view, you felt yourself holding back a gag. The sight of her body, combined with your weakened state, almost made you pass out and share a similar fate.

Your gentle whimpers accompanied you as you carefully climbed the shaking ladder, Sam and Mindy's beautiful voices promising you that everything would be OK - you had no option but to trust them. As blood flows from your agonising wound onto the ladder's rungs, you crawl with as much focus as possible.

Closing in on Sam's boyfriend's window, the girls both reach their arms out to you as they grab onto you and pull you into the apartment. The three of you collapse to the ground in a heap, clutching each other tightly as if one of you might slip away if the others let go.

"Tara and Chad are on their way", you heard Sam's boyfriend say as you continued to sob into her shoulder, her hands carefully avoiding your face. You remained in that position as you felt your body begin to go numb as your blood and adrenaline continued seeping from your body.

Feeling your body go weak, Sam pulls your head back gently as she goes to help you lie down. Mindy and Sam gently place you on the floor, lying on your back, your bloodied and distraught face facing the empty ceiling.

"Holy shit, y/n!"

Your girlfriend's distraught voice did not affect you as your single eye started drifting shut slowly. As blackness starts to encroach, you catch a final glimpse of Tara as she appears next to you, her face stricken with worry as her hands hover near your disfigured face.

"Y/n!?"

Tag-list:@nitchxhdc @emeraldevan @looseheartedlady @the-night-owl-blr @badassjaguar @txmxav @oh-thats-cute @blckrwidow @cacciatricediartemide @flaiire1805 @rainbow-love4ever @fall-08 @simp4nat @natashadeservedmore @livingforwaddams @alexkolax @ssinfulprayers @wifeyjennaortega@thenextdawn @zhasmindoesntknow @faunusrubyrose @harleyspunchingbag @yourmamacom@rockwyn @androgynouscloudenemy@padf00ts-l0ver @wol-fica @captainbeat @sophiexoxo-lol @perfectartisanwerewolf

[v-ternus]

GHOULS AND THEIR FAVORITE FOODS

Started thinking of the ghouls a little too much while I was hungry, so Im now here to present this dumpster fire.

Aether: frozen yogurt

He loves when it’s warmer out, it means the cold treat is even better than usual (yes he's the type to eat cold stuff when its cold out). He loves the tart, plain flavor and puts cookie dough bites and butterfinger pieces on it.

Dew: ravioli

Any filling, any sauce. Lil guy will put these away like they’re air. The store bought, premade ones are good, but he loves the ones Mountain makes— mushroom and cheese filled in a brown butter sauce.

Aeon: rice crackers

He likes to think that this is what it must feel like to chew on styrofoam. Sure they taste good, but he mostly eats them for the crunches. He lowkey hates the ones wrapped in seaweed.

Aurora: indian food

She is an absolute fiend for samosas. She could make a meal out of it if only she didnt want to eat everything else on the menu. She loves literally everything, but her favorite is chicken madras. She’s busy eating her way through the menu at the restaurant in town. She goes with Copia every Friday for lunch, its their “thing”.

Mountain: barbecue

He’s in heaven whenever they tour through some of the southern states. Loves brisket. Loves cornbread even more.

(he also just loves meat in his mouth)

Rain: cheap pizza

He loves all chain pizzas, but his favorite is Little Caesars. A crappy and slightly-overcooked-from-sitting-under-the-warmer pizza will cheer him up on even the worst days. Also hates olives. Like he really, really hates them. Dew messed up the first time he ordered and got a supreme pizza with olives and Rain straight up cried.

Sunshine: pierogies

She'll eat any pierogi, as long as you give her sour cream on the side. Sometimes she likes them crisped up in butter, but that's a big sometimes. Sunshine has still not found a filling she dislikes.

Swiss: fancy(ish) pizzas

I cant really blame the guy for liking the woodfired stuff. Favorite toppings include but are not limited to: roasted garlic, roasted peppers, prosciutto, and arugula. Him and Rain are opposites when it comes down to this.

Cumulus: pad thai

Americanized or traditional, she will devour it. Though she regularly eats meat, she only gets tofu as the protein option for her pad thai. Unlike the others who seem to have had the best luck, she has found one that she absolutely hated. It was from an Asian fusion chain restaurant. She would've sent it back if she wasn't so scared of being perceived as rude.

Cirrus: crab rangoon

She hates when there's actual crab in her crab rangoons. She just wants that sweet cream cheese. It is the only thing she asks for when they pick cheap Chinese food for dinner.

[azurlily]

Day 2 of 31 of the yandere month May challenge. This yandere is sadistic and has sadistic tendencies so DARK FUCKING THEMES.

Kirari forces you to marry her and you have a mental breakdown.(this is considered only angst because while it does imply that she cares for you after the breakdown, it isnt specifically talked about.)

Yandere!Kirari Momobami ANGST

How, just how did this happen? You were supposed to live out your life like any other person. Like any other average Joe, but no. No, you didn't get those privileges.

Not with her around. Kirari and you were somewhat good friends. She'd taken an interest in you after you wont in a gamble against her, you thought she'd leave you alone after she had her fun.

Of course, you were wrong. Instead Kirari watched, she watched from the shadows and looked into you. She wanted to know everything about her future wife/partner. She needed to know everything about you.

When she saw an opportunity to take you as her bride. She had seen your debt was rising, and you had become a house pet with no way to pay it back.

She took full advantage of this while she could, she played with you, and your feelings. Hot and cold, sweet and sour, soft and rough. Kirari wants to see all of you, not some facade, the real you.

While that may sound sweet, the main reason she wanted to see the real you was because she could manipulate you easier. It had been your last year of school and while Kirari and gotten you away from being a house pet every other year. This one was different.

I'd she helped you she couldn't make you a life plan. She couldn't make you hers. So she payed a few people to coerce you into a gamble and make you lose it all. You ran back to her and she told you that she wasn't going to save you this time.

You knew it was inevitable, but you didn't want to believe it. You tried, you tried everything but no one was willing to gamble you, or help you. You were stuck, stuck in a limbo of self pity, and hatred. You knew a life plan was possible, but you hope Kirari wouldn't do that to you.

Kirari called you into her office around the last month of school. She wanted to set the record straight. She could see you were pulling away from her, she was no idiot. She hated it though, hated that you didn't come and randomly visit her just so you could eat lunch together. Hated that you didn't beg her to go out with you to a park and just have a relaxing day.

She hated it all, she hated that you didn't rely on her anymore. She had(and does have) every intention to force you to fulfill her needs. Not necessarily sexual ones, but the ones that made her feel less lonely. She is human, no matter how much she wishes to deny it. She does need an anchor to tether her, and you, oh you, you're the perfect anchor.

Kirari had decided the blunt option was best, she had every intention to "make it up to you" later. That could wait though.

"Oh good, you're here. Oh, you're looking worse for wear. Are you okay, darling?"

She knew the answer, but seeing you helpless for her made things so much more fun. She loves the idea of seeing you cry.(in every way.)

She smiles as you look away, you know she knows. You just don't know she's the cause for it all. That's what that day was all about. She had everything planned out, an entire schedule ready. Kirari hoped you would take this well; emotions can be so messy.

"So, let's talk. I know about your debt, and I know you're unhappy I haven't paid it off...but I do have a reason for this. I want you to be my bride, and I'm not taking no as an answer. You may speak now."

That was it, that's all she needed to say. I mean, there is more to that story, but she'd prefer to tell you all that when you more prepared.

You stared at her for a moment, maybe two, or maybe even three. You wanted to hear the words "joke", you hoped she'd start laughing, but no. Instead you got her usual indifferent look.

You wanted to cry, I mean, that's fair. Right? You'd been through hell, the system here hurts people who have a debt, and you couldn't even pay it back. You were stuck, and she thought the best way to make you love her was...this?

Your first reaction is to cry, or maybe not. Maybe you try to hold in your tears, you try to not think about all the horrible things written on your desk, all the horrible things students have done to you. Guys in the school have forced you naked only to laugh at your body, girls were no different. They'd eight horrible things about you and spread rumors.

It was hell, your own personal hell. You broke down, you were crying and when Kirari tried to put her hand out. You slapped it. She didn't doesn't deserve to touch you. Instead she stood there, and watched, she knew what the students had done, it was a part of her plan after all.

Break you down, bit by bit. Make things easier for her. She would and has given the students hell for their misdeeds, and she intends to make things up to you. When your ready that it.

"I see you have no intention of calming down. While usually I'd leave you alone I'll be sitting at my desk until your breathing returns to normal. Apparently people tend to do...things in situations like these and I cant have that."

Essentially she's saying if you tried to off yourself, or hurt yourself. She'd be there to stop you. She knows she's the villain in your story, and your her so called victim. She loves it though, loves seeing you cry.

After about thirty minutes you had stopped crying. Now all you wanted to do was take a long, long, long nap. You started to doze off when you felt a cold hand on your face.

"Ah, look whose calmed down. Now, now, don't start those tears again. Oh, and you're crying...hm."

She moves down and gently kisses your lips. It was short and sweet, it would have been sweeter if not for the hand digging into your chin. She wanted you to know there is no escape.

She smiles, it looked gentle and somewhat kind, but you were no idiot. Maybe you were, just a bit. Although you could see right through her now. She let's go of your chin and you fall back.

"Maybe it is best to leave you in here. I'll be back with things to calm you down. For now though."

She walked to where the light switch was, turned it off. Leaving you in inky darkness, she closed and locked the door. She wanted to see how long you'd last before you came crying back to her. In need of comfort.

"I'll see you soon."

[bowel-glitch-blog]

Faygo: Pineapple (Review)

(our ratings & experiences)

Flavour Accuracy

Myles: 8/20

Roni: 7/20

Average Rating: 7.5/20

Confound it! This drink may smell like and be branded as pineapple, but after the first sip, it tastes like whoever created this concoction intended to kill an elephant with the sugar content of the drink alone. It's almost as if there's been a tenfold increase in the sugar content of the pineapples used to make this drink (if there were even any to begin with).

It's like if you took a pineapple and extracted all the sweetness out of it to put in this bottle. And you also did it to 10 other pineapples. And added a large tablespoon of sugar. Have you ever drank the juice out of a pineapple can? It's like that, but artificial. It tasted like it wanted its sourness back. Is this what Hozier was talking about?

Health Concern

Myles: 2/20

Roni: 1/20

Average Rating: 1.5/20

It's Faygo. Naturally I'd have some concern drinking the stuff due to the fact that it's an American drink, meaning stuff like high fructose corn syrup and Red 40. I wasn't GREATLY concerned until my colleague pointed out that the drink had 157% of the daily sugar value in it. I might stay away from this stuff for a while.

It was... Very sweet. With a capital V. Somehow, the sugar content in this one is even higher than our previous flavour (25% of the daily sugar intake HIGHER than Cotton Candy!!!). Also, there are absolutely zero pineapple-related ingredients listed on the back. I am convinced if a small British boy in the 1800s drank a full bottle of this he would pass away within 24 hours.

Color Appeal

Myles: 2/20

Roni: 3/20

Average Rating: 2.5/20

Never had much of a liking for anything yellow. I'm usually interested in any brightly colored drink, but the murky yellow that this drink is really hampers the appeal of this thing to me. If you are a fan of yellow (yellow fans do not exist) (excuse you), then go right ahead. This just isn't for me.

Yellow is my second favourite colour, but it doesn't make up for the unattractiveness of this drink. For one, this drink is not transparent. It is translucent and foggy, which severely detracts points. Secondly, this is a pretty weird shade of yellow. It's teetering on the green end of the yellow spectrum, which is so much less appealing than the orange end. At least yellow is a more reasonable juice colour than blue.

Overall Enjoyment

Myles: 10/20

Roni: 16/20

Average Rating: 13/20

Not really a big fan of this one. Now that I've had multiple sips of the stuff, it tastes like if you took a bunch of yellow gummy snakes and liquefied them into a drink of sorts.

I've been pretty negative about this flavour so far, but I don't fully hate this drink. Though how much it damages my health detracts from my enjoyment overall, the drink doesn't taste bad at all to me. It just doesn't taste like pineapple. It didn't change in taste as I kept drinking it either, which is a bonus.

Re-drinkability

Myles: 7/20

Roni: 14/20

Average Rating: 10.5/20

Definitely not drinking this flavor again. Just like with Cotton Candy, the only time I'll ever willingly drink this is if the drink aisle in EzyMart is barren (which it never is) and there are no other good flavors available.

I wouldn't get this drink often (for the sake of my health), but it's not something I'm super opposed to. I think if this drink was better health-wise, it'd be on my options list for little beverages for walking through the city with (along with Coca-Cola Zero Sugar Vanilla, but more about that at a later date).

Summary

Myles’ Rating: 29/100

Roni’s Rating: 41/100

Average Rating: 35/100

Grade: F

[scrumptious-finicky-illusion]

This has been going through my mind a lot lately. It's such a devastating reply to wield against assholes, bad-faith arguers, and the fucking fun police (aka puritanical busybodies, terves, and fascists).

I got fired from my new(ish) job 10 days ago. I loved the little group I worked with and a lot of other employees outside of the group. But I was a bad fit for the way the company wanted things done. I wasn't methodical enough, organized enough, or fast enough. I got written up for the things I did to address the problems they wrote me up for in the first place, and I didn't even think to push back on anything they said, even though I was literally using their methods to try and "improve." My last week there, my supervisor pretty much acted like I didn't exist. Which made me think that maybe, just maybe all the maximum effort I was putting in was finally paying off. Boy, did I feel extra dumb walking out of the office on Friday. Getting the silent treatment now makes me think they made the decision to let me go even before my probation period was up. I was am devastated.

Even though the job (technically the employees) gave me some weird this feels wrong vibes from my first week. At least it was better than my last job, which was pretty abusive from the get go, that I just kept tolerating and working around, for many years.

Cue me using all of last week to not get out of bed but also to go through all 5 stages of grief in random order (with the support of my partner). Financially we're okay. Mentally I've had my entire (tiny) stock of confidence in myself pulled out from under me, and my depression, which was slowly starting to lessen with me having a job, hit some new lows. Do you know how shameful it feels to talk to people who ask me about my job that I got fired? I don't either. I've just avoided talking to anyone who isn't either my bestie or living in my house (a whole two people).

But that picture up there, that particular quote, from a website I used to enjoy that got hijacked by a real life Justin Hammer, those words, now try saying something true and beautiful kept rattling around in my head.

I've been avoiding food. Feeling shaky because of low blood sugar feels better than feeling like I was so wrong blind about how things were going at my job.

My partner was away at a convention all weekend, so I got to be alone with myself in a way I don't often get to. No agenda, no plans, no putting everyone else first to allow me to neglect myself, just doing what I wanted when I wanted. It was great, because my life was finally quiet enough for me to hear what I wanted to do (or not do).

I left all my work crap in my car for most of the week. I brought my office plant into the house and saw it had a post it note stuck in the dirt. It had a phone number I thought I'd forgotten to get.

I cried.

I went to the grocery store to get one thing that my brain allowed me to eat (an ethnic cookie). I also bought a bunch other stuff, anything my brain even perked up a little bit at the thought of. I was debating fast food options while at the market, and once I was out, I decided not to think about it anymore and just go get the Loki Season 2 meal from the drive through. It's been so long since I just-- ordered a combo, the cashier had to ask me if I wanted a Coke. Yep. Large? Yep. So I got my two packets of Loki-show branded sweet and sour sauce.

<Kronk voice>And I drank most of that there Coca Cola fountain drink at 3pm in the afternoon. The one with the real sugar in it. The kind of soda I don't normally drink. You know, one that had more caffeine in that serving than I'd had over the entire month before. The quantities of caffeine I usually avoid.

The Large®.

</Kronk voice>

And then came the ideas. There were plot bunnies that I didn't just sit around and dream about. There was writing. There was some rewriting. There was more writing. I was up until 3 or so. Lay in bed until about 8:30 am continuing to work (but on my phone) Came out and put it on my laptop, kept going all day yesterday until 2am, and started again today until I felt about 80 percent done with the barf-it-all-out-on-the-page kind of writing and 20 percent done with the snap-all-the-pieces-onto-the-timeline-slash-grid editing.

I noticed that my writing is both architectural and garden-like at the same time. Like an espaliered apple tree.

(I think that's an apple tree.) You can make trees do tricks like this, and they'll produce hella more fruit in way less space, but only if you train it on a grid or wires or a lattice from a very young age. Every year the tree branches get a little bigger and a little longer, and you bend them carefully until they go the way you have planned. It's fussy. It takes time and regular attention (exactly the way my brain doesn't work).

But I can throw a few sentences on a page, keep going, look up at what came before and see that it needs a few words added in here and there, keep going, look up again and add a few more words in other places, again and again, etcetera, ad nauseum. Start at the top and do it all again. It's cool to see my sentences grow like that.

Should I say that acquiring The Loki Sauce cured my writer's block? It would be irresponsible to. But I think I will anyway.

If you are reading this, all the way down here at the end of the post, bless you. Thanks for reading.

[jingerhead]

I posted 1,189 times in 2021

267 posts created (22%)

922 posts reblogged (78%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 3.5 posts.

I added 2,208 tags in 2021

#aftg - 651 posts

#jinger's recs - 360 posts

#random thoughts from jinger - 213 posts

#aftg fanart - 182 posts

#aftg fanfic - 149 posts

#jinger's works - 148 posts

#beefy andrew supremacy - 134 posts

#andreil - 129 posts

#tfc - 121 posts

#all for the game - 121 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#oh man just the thought of him dying andrews hair 🥺🥺🥺🥺 the trust oh him working the dye into andrews hair and washing out in the shower

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Idk if this counts as a prompt but i LOVE anything where neil is a better flirt than andrew and andrew gets all flustered in his andrew way

AH YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT

Side note: I am a horrible flirt. Like, the absolute worst. But I'm gonna try my best for this, I hope you like it anon!

(listen I'd like to thank @paradoxolotl for helping me so much I literally don't know how to do it I owe her my life)

~*~

It was a well known fact that Neil Josten's mouth had gotten him in trouble on more than one occasion. Sometimes it was irritating, and other times Andrew's mind went blank after hearing some kind of witty retort Neil would throw at someone. Which wasn't a problem, because Andrew had enough self control to not 'panic' when something like this happened. Usually he just removed himself from the situation, knowing that Neil could fight his own battles perfectly fine.

But this...was nothing like cutting comebacks.

You see, somehow, someway, Andrew had decided to start flirting with Neil Josten. It had started long before that kiss on the rooftop or that one night at Eden's, and now he was...really trying, he supposed. This entire past week he'd tried saying a few lines that only seemed to confuse Neil, but it hadn't taken long for Andrew to learn that the ones that really got to Neil were nothing about his appearance. One time Andrew had been listening to Neil talk out loud about a math problem he was having trouble with, and without thinking he'd just decided to say, "You're smart."

It was entertaining to see the way Neil's eyes had widened in surprise.

Keep Reading...

272 notes • Posted 2021-08-21 02:32:42 GMT

#4

aftg headcanons of neil + fruits or other teams meeting the exy-sport-running-obsessed mess that is neil josten and kevin day?

Ahhhhhh I'll answer this while I finish up other requests :)

I love the headcanon that Neil really enjoys fruits and isn't really into much other sweets.

He really likes blackberries and raspberries. If they get a carton while on a grocery run, it'll likely be gone by the next day. He will risk a stomachache to do this. Every time Andrew spots him eating out of the carton like a maniac, he'll remind Neil that he's going to feel awful later. Neil always ignores this and refuses to complain but he will pout.

He also likes oranges. He's a monster that will eat the zest. He's horrified SO many people because of this.

He will also eat a lemon without flinching? It's an awful experience and he doesn't like lemons but one time he and Kevin had been arguing, he accidentally grabbed a lemon instead of an orange and pealed it and went to eat it. Kevin was stunned to silence and Neil immediately regretted everything but he refused to back down so he just ate it. And now it's just something he does through sheer willpower alone.

He isn't that into strawberries? He'll eat them if they're around and there's no other option, but they're not his favorites.

Blueberries are untrustworthy. They're either super sour or mushy and gross, so he avoids them at all costs.

Neil only eats green grapes and he's very passionate about it. Anytime anyone mentions any other type of grape he will rant about how green grapes are the only type worth eating and he doesn't even have a very good argument about it? When anyone asks him why his default answer is because, "They're not mushy and don't taste bland."

Read The Long List of HCs Here...

282 notes • Posted 2021-06-08 16:58:30 GMT

#3

512 notes • Posted 2021-11-21 05:29:25 GMT

#2

For 100-follower-day prompts: Neil trying to explain the differences between beefy twinyards to the other foxes (or, alternatively, trying to explain how he tells the difference WITHOUT mentioning the beefiness 👀)? Love your stuff btw, thanks for all you do!

Now this is quality content, thank you so much, lovely!! Here's a short:

They were trying to trick him again.

Neil and Kevin had gone to the court for some early practice before actual practice, and now Neil was paying the price for not traveling with Andrew. He and Aaron had dressed in baggy black sweatshirts, thick sweatpants, and only wore socks on their feet. Andrew had removed his earrings and Aaron had styled his hair like Andrew's. The rest of the Foxes were sitting in the lounge, smirking amongst themselves and snickering once in a while, no doubt at whatever face Neil currently had on his face.

"You guys..." he huffed. There had to be a bet of some kind, and a good one, too. The only reason Andrew and Aaron went along with bets were if the prize was worth it.

"Go on, Neil," Allison said cheerfully. She was the organizer, no doubt.

"This isn't funny," Neil said lowly. "And it's getting old."

"You only say that because you lost last time," Matt replied with a loud laugh.

Neil didn't loose last time, because there was no bet last time. Last time, Andrew was being a dick, and Neil had been feeling sick and miserable. Aaron shouldn't have walked into their dorm that day if he didn't want to get mistaken for his brother.

"Just guess, Neil," Allison said.

Keep Reading...

755 notes • Posted 2021-06-16 00:49:07 GMT

#1

My multi-chaptered wip: *sobbing* please....just update me once...it's been 2 months...

Me, writing another domestic-fluff oneshot: no

2563 notes • Posted 2021-06-18 14:44:58 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost • main masterlist • taglist & faq

Introductory prologue. The main pairing will be established ironstrange x reader. This story will be rated explicit, have some canon-typical violence and language. The 'fuck' harvest is bountiful this time of the year. Updates - irregular so far, I'm posting it as I go.

No y/n, no "you", no name - nickname only, no reader description - race/age/body type neutral, she/her pronouns. Please leave a comment if you spot a stray 'blushing' or the likes, I write as it flows and sometimes miss those words when I proofread. I try to be inclusive of all my readers.

"Your total is twelve dollars, seventeen cents," I rattled off on autopilot, casting a glance at the cash register and plastering an automatic smile onto my face. The pleasant expression was frozen on it, stuck like glue, despite the news I had received earlier in the day. "Thank you, have a nice day," I doubted the customer actually heard my words.

One of those business-types, wearing a tailored two-piece, with a Bluetooth headset attached to their ear and brain always a mile away, our little coffee shop a mild interruption in their daily routine of making more and more money. "Hello, how can I help you?" I addressed the next customer, my eyes unseeing, gliding over their face and to the storefront where I noticed we were running low on eclairs and carrot cake.

"Hey, Starlight," the woman's voice was familiar, tone soothing, as I snapped my eyes to meet a pair of reddish-brown ones, staring at me with concern. "The usual," our city's very own superhero; Wanda Maximoff stood before me with her head curiously tilted to the side and her brother hovering behind her, examining the assortment of various cakes on display. "Long day?"

"You have no idea," I sighed, sending off the organic, single-use cups with scribbles off to Dave, our barista. Wanda's order was large, usually about ten or twelve coffees and quite a few treats, so I donned on some nitrile gloves to package the treats while Dave handled the drinks with practiced ease. I admired his stoicism. "Might be seeing a bit less of me," the woman's eyebrows rose in displeasure at my admission.

"Tony won't be happy," Wanda mumbled, side-eyeing the backdoor behind which my boss usually resided during the day. "You got fired?" The words attracted the attention of her brother. Pietro was immediately at her side, joining into the concerned staring.

"Nope," I popped the 'p', methodically shoving the food in its packaging. "The café is expanding hours and our shifts are being split now. Jeremy is dead set on me working the graveyard shift, so I'll be here six AM to two PM," I couldn't help the sigh that left my lips.

My boss, Jeremy, had opened his boulangerie little over two years ago, and as he had predicted, it set off almost immediately. The place was located almost in the heart of the dozen corporate sky-rises full of busy, wealthy people who liked their things to be both instant and luxurious. Jeremy had fit right in with the law sharks and business vultures, if you ask me, with his penchant for demanding the impossible.

I was expecting an increase in work hours, I wasn't going to lie - our little cafe was busy nearly all the time it was open - but the fact that he chose to split a day's shift came as a punch to the gut. Like most service staff, I made most of my money from the tips, and they and they only were the only reason I stayed in a place with a shrew for a boss and the worst health insurance in the area. Thankfully, the rich businessmen from local offices didn't count their money and left me more than generous tips.

The coffee machine beeped for the last time as Dave passed me the three cupholders before I carefully bagged them, arranging the treats on top. I saw Wanda lick her lips at the aromas coming from the paper bag before Pietro snatched them out of my grasp. I rattled off the total, catching Wanda's eye as she passed me several twenty dollar bills, waving off my attempt to return the change.

"Penny for your wandering thoughts?" She smiled warmly as I chuckled at the question I've grown to expect with a quiet sort of joy.

The first time she'd wandered in, soaking wet from the rain and looking as lost as a child in a mall, ten minutes before closing time, I was reading my book right at the counter as I waited for the coffee machine to clean itself. I hadn't even noticed the quiet woman until her words startled me out of the book-induced trance and I shamefully had to ask her to repeat herself, hastily shoving my book under the counter. She smiled at me, shyly, and asked me about my reading instead of rattling an order for one of the sickly sweet caffeine concoctions female customers seemed to love. And she returned in a few days, asking the same question after taking a careful look at my face.

"And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about." I took a careful moment to recall a paragraph from the book I was currently reading, Murakami's 'Kafka on the Shore'. It seemed fitting, with all that had been going on in my life recently. I was still caught in the middle of the storm, unsure if I'd make it out but hoping for it nonetheless.

"That's beautiful," Pietro smiled at me, the tips of his silver hair reflecting the lights of the cafe's baroque style chandeliers. I barely managed to smile at him as he was already speeding off, the entrance door banging shut behind a blur of white and blue. Each time he did that, I couldn't help but wonder how he managed to not spill any of the hot beverages.

"Because it's true," Wanda added with a comforting smile. I nodded in agreement, hoping some of her positive attitude would dissipate the sense of doom I'd been lugging around all day. She departed, taking the sense of comfort with her, as I caught the tail end of something shouted in Sokovian - something that sounded exactly in place, coming from one disgruntled sibling to another.

When the residents of the nearby Stark tower began frequenting my workplace, I barely had the composure to stifle my quiet fangirling to socially acceptable levels. Not long after the Scarlet Witch turned a semi-regular, she started bringing her colleagues with her - Hawkeye at first, who was a decent, normal dude; he looked like an exasperated dad and Pietro appeared every thing the rambunctious son, as the younger man peppered the older man with questions about the cakes on our display.

They all had fancy names, but at the bottom of it, a chocolate cake was a chocolate cake. That much I told them, with a snort, earning myself a lopsided grin and a generous tip as I patiently listed off the more commonly used, simplified designations for the twins as the knowledge of them being European immigrants crossed my mind.

After Hawkeye came the Black Widow, and then Captain America with a sunny smile and his moody boyfriend in tow. While Bucky Barnes' expression was generally sour, the man had a wicked sweet tooth, shoveling frosted, glazed treats at the rate of a competitive eater. Both men were extremely polite if not very chatty and tipped well.

Tony Stark himself - well, he was a special one. His sense of humour trailed on the fine line of obscene, oftentimes raising the eyebrows of nearby people standing in line. I wasn't born yesterday, either: years of customer service work left me with little-to-no surprise regarding overzealous men and I could quip back equally as sharply, just slightly south of Tony's own jokes. He never overstepped, however, and with time, I developed a quiet appreciation for our small talks.

Which did brighten up my day, if only a little. "A little birdy told me your boss is being a douchebag. Want me to clean up that muck?" Tony was, as usual, wearing a bespoke suit and sunglasses, which he'd pushed up to his forehead as he frivolously leaned on the counter after placing his order.

I sighed, remembering Wanda's words. I didn't know what to expect from the eccentric billionaire; last of all, I didn't want any handouts. I'd started a search for a second part-time job the very day I got told my pay would be essentially cut in half. "No need, Mr. Stark, I'm gonna be fine and dandy," I replied with a smile that I was sure didn't really reach my eyes. "We'll still be able to resume our nice chit-chat at brunch on Saturdays," I winked, hoping to keep up the usual light atmosphere of our banter.

"I told you to call me Tony!" He exclaimed, like always, shaking his head and glaring at the back door. "Yeah, no," the man had absolutely no chill. "I'll still sic the IRS on him," the last part was said quietly. Mr. Stark often spoke to himself.

I laughed at the rich-kid, spoilt way he was acting. A grown man with an attitude of a teenager and a sweet tooth to match one - except for his coffee. That was always the strongest, blackest one we had on hand. I hadn't even heard of a triple espresso until Mr. Stark had waltzed in, skipping the line and filling the air around him with the smells of cologne that smelled like money, motor oil, iron and soot.

The moment I opened my e-mail at home, I felt my gloomy mood worsen, Mr. Stark's words echoing in my head. I'd sent my resumes to two dozen places and only a handful even bothered to reply - all preemptive rejections, there weren't businesses needing a part-time employee with a useless degree, who could only work evenings. Except bars, but they required some sort of certificate for bartenders and lots and lots of bare skin for waitresses. I tried to steer away from that part of the industry as much as I could, saving it as a last resort option.

It had come down to browsing Craigslist as I ate my way through a carton of cheap take-out, too exhausted to cook and too anxious to go out to the nearby bodega after 9 PM. One more negative side of working late shift - making my way home in the dead of the night in NYC and hoping Spider-Man was hanging out nearby should a thug decide on me to be their next victim. The joys of big city life.

As the column of various ads stared at me with various suspicious offers to make quick money, ads for 'young, sociable women' and I stared back at them in muted disgust. The 'looking for a job' section was much more sensible with the few ads I'd clicked on out of curiosity depicting people seemingly in a similar situation as me - short on money but not desperate enough to surrender their dignity to corporate greed. The decision was momentary - I'd started typing and hit the post button before I was through with my food, slapping my old laptop shut as soon as the as posted.

Hopefully, the creeps will stay away. The next couple of days stretched out slowly as I got up at the crack of dawn to open the shop, served the early birds whilst sipping my own matcha latte and clocked out not a second later than 2PM, taking home half the usual amount of tips. My e-mail remained as silent as ever, only a few suspicious replies to my ad, texts that I didn't even bother replying to. Human trafficking and pyramid schemes, was that all that NYC had to offer?

Apparently, not. Around 6PM, my phone dinged as a notification popped up and I scrambled to read it - all too aware of the upcoming rent day, and was pleasantly surprised with the contents of the e-mail, re-reading it several times to make sure there weren't any hidden stones under the water. I replied with my phone number, not expecting it to ring within minutes of hitting the send button.

"Hello?"

"Hi, we just corresponded," the voice on the other side was feminine but slightly rough, as if it's owner spent days chain-smoking. "I would like to invite you for a small interview, if you wouldn't mind."

I chewed on my lip in contemplation. "Could I ask you some questions first?" The levels of anxiety, I thought, were reasonable in the situation. It mutely gnawed at my chest.

"Sure," the woman agreed amicably. "My name is Odette, by the way," she mentioned off-handedly, the name fitting her voice in a strange way.

"Uh, well," I stammered. "You mentioned it's a herbal medicine shop, you're not selling weed under the counter, are you?" I voiced my worries meekly, hoping for an honest answer.

The woman laughed, a sharp, terse sound. "No, dear, I do not sell or possess anything illegal. I merely offer supplies for the locals that prefer natural, alternative medicine." She sounded jovial.

"Like - um, healing crystals?" I vaguely remembered reading about them on the internet, or seeing them in a YouTube video, perhaps.

"Yes, we sell those, too," her tone grew more joyful at the mention of the shiny rocks. I didn't think that they actually cured anything, to be honest, however I was willing to give it some credit - the placebo effect was a scientific fact. Whatever floats your boat, I guess.

"Okay then," I chuckled nervously. "I'm free tomorrow after 3 PM."

"Grand. The shop is open until 10 PM, just say your name at the counter and I'll be right with you."

As soon as I hung up, relief and curiosity and trepidation blossomed within me, imagination unhelpfully supplying images of human trafficking documentaries, basements with chains and other, less horrifying but still unusual things. The pep talk over a wine glass that I had was necessary: it was a herbal shop, for fuck's sake. Worst case, I'm going to work with Karens who think the Earth is flat and quartz cures cancer. I could even get a funny story or two out of those, something to share with Bucky or Wanda in lieu of the usual book quotes I entertain them with.

The day went by smoothly, the café no more and no less busy than usual so after a brief detour back home to put on something that didn't smell like coffee grounds and yeast: comfortable pants and a soft sweater, something that would keep me warm but would not unnecessarily restrict any movement. My good luck charm, a large oval necklace with a shiny gold star in the middle, hung heavily around my neck, providing quiet comfort.

Heart thudding in my chest, I approached the old-style, inconspicuous building, double-checking the address before opening the old, heavy wooden door right at the corner of the building. It was like a movie scene, in a way - the day was overcast, meager sun rays shining through the lead curtain of clouds, the streets were clear and few honks rung out in the far end of block, sending a flock of pigeons into a lazy scatter over the slanted roof. The door creaked softly, the handle cold under my touch, instantly filling my nose with a strong smell of herbs so plentiful, I could not distinguish one from another.

Inside didn't look any less intriguing: the décor was outdated but somehow fitting and homely, high wooden shelves stocked with glass jars and wooden boxes with neatly placed labels on them. The counter was empty - save for a large, golden bell, which I timidly pressed.

The woman who emerged from behind the worn cotton curtains behind the counter most certainly was impressive. Tall and broad, with dark eyebrows and even darker eyes, she critically surveyed me for a moment, making me shiver under her gaze - and then she smiled, revealing rows of pearly white teeth and instantaneously losing the imposing aura around her.

"Um, hi- I'm-" I didn't get to finish my nervous stammering.

She interrupted me with a careless wave of her hand. "Here for the interview. Yes. Welcome, Star," her eyes briefly fell on my necklace while I struggled to swallow the unease.

I hadn't told her my nickname - to be honest, these days, I heard it more often than my given name. People quickly took notice of my love of star-patterned items and teased me relentlessly over it, losing heat only when I calmly went along with it, too used to hearing the same jokes since my early childhood.

Odette motioned me over, parting the curtains to reveal a tiny, but tastefully decorated hall with two doors on each side and a staircase at the far end of it. I followed her into the room on the left, which turned out to be a peculiar sort of office. I thought I noticed an Ouija board in there but wisely kept my mouth shut.

"I live on the floor above the shop so don't go throwing any parties while you're on the job," she remarked playfully, gesturing to a pot of tea. "It's peppermint, does wonders for calming one's demeanor," the gesture was sweet - and very telling.

I wondered if I looked as spooked as I felt. After all, it didn't seem like Odette and her business were fishy in any way, and the décor and atmosphere were quite... Appealing, in a way. Something magical, something belonging in Europe or on a high schooler's Pinterest board. I sipped my tea in-between questions, thinking how maybe, I could actually grow accustomed to this place.

The shopkeeper acted as if I'd already accepted the job and I - well, it's not like I had any other options waiting for me. The pay was more than I expected it to be, for such a small bodega and a part-time shift, and it would help me cover my bills with enough to spare. The customers were said to be mostly regular and undemanding, with a few rare exceptions, and should I need assistance, the owner was always a call and a floor away.

With a considerably lighter heart, I left to pad the damp sidewalk back towards my house. Thankfully, my new workplace was only a short walk away.

The tag list is open until the story is finished. Please use the 'taglist' Google form to request (top of the fic, clickable link).

@mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites

[the-fiction-witch]

My baby P1

TV SHOW: THE QUEENS GAMBIT

COUPLE: BENNY X READER

RATING: FLIRTY AF

I smiled as I sat at my vanity slowly applying my eyeliner "carefully….. carefully… oww!!" I complained having poked myself in the eye I quickly fanned myself to prevent tears ruining the rest of my make up I finished up make up puffing a whole bucket of power to set it all down. I began carefully taking my hair out my rollers being careful not to burn my hand on the hot surface of the rollers as I pulled them out my hair one by one letting loose the insense curls a couple of locks of my hair slightly burnt or singed from the rollers I brushed my hair out letting my hair sit as it usually did checking my make up before going and slipping my little shoes on and picking my handbag up from the bedpost.

"And where are you going?" My mother asked stood at my door in her long dress arms crossed face as sour as a professional lemon sucker. 

"Out" I answered

"Where?"

"I don't know" I shrug 

Just then I heard a knock on the door I went down with my mother who unhappily opened the door,

I smiled widely as I saw him stood on my porch his usual black dress shoes, his blue jeans, his belt tight to him with his knife say down his leg, his grey and silver button down undone fairly far down his chest as usual, his chains sat against his skin, his black leather coat over him hiding most of him away. His facial hair neatly groomed, his face a little panicked seeing my mother and not me answering to him his hair neatly combed and his hat perched on his head however as soon as he saw my mother he removed it, and in his hand sat a beautiful lone white rose. 

"Ohh uhhh. Good evening Mrs y/l/n" he nodded to her 

"Watts." She nodded "back by ten, not a moment after or so help me girl I'll knock you into next week" she says 

"I know, bye mummy" I smiled rushing out the door with my things grabbing his hand and scurrying down the path away from the house, "hi"

"Hi, for you pretty girly" he smiled handing me the rose 

"Aww thank you benny" I smiled giving his cheek a kiss as he put his hat back on "you should do your shirt up" I giggled

"To be fair. One in like sixty times I knock on your door it happens to be opened by your mother, the rest of the time it's you" 

"Well plan for it being her" I smiled squeezing his hand "you look nice though"

"Thank you, your look beautiful too" he says kissing my head "so where are we going?" I asked as we arrived at his little beaten up beetle 

"That's a surprise" he told me tapping my nose before opening the door for me offering a hand to help me in 

"Aww such a gentleman" I smiled giving his cheek another kiss as I climbed in I didn't need his hand but I used it anyway sitting in his car with my bag smelling the sweet rose as he climbed in the car too and noticed himself in the mirror 

"Ohh for fuck- y/n" he complained

"What?"

"That red lipstick is adorable it makes you look very very cute but for God sake everytime you wear it I end up with bright red kisses all over me" he complained trying and failing to wipe my lipstick marks off him I giggled and licked my finger wiping them of for him "thank you babydoll" 

"Your welcome" I smiled 

"Come on or we'll never get back before your curfew" he laughs starting the car up

"Sorry" I blushed

"Its fine babydoll, I know you still live at home I understand it's alright, just means we have to plan things out" he explained as he drove "maybe soon, you can come move in with me and we can have a date night every night" he suggested

"Maybe Benny. I'm not sure my mother will let me move out yet, especially in with you"

"She really hates me doesn't she?"

"She doesn't hate you. She just…. Doesn't like that we aren't married"

"I'm working on it." He laughs putting a hand on my leg "I promise babydoll" 

"I know it's okay Benny, she just doesn't like it"

"I don't know. Maybe I'm weird but I think we should live together a little before where married"

"Why?"

"I don't know, Incase you do weird shit I don't know about"

"Like what Benny?"

"I don't know what you do? The most you and I have spend staying over with each other is one or two sneaky nights here and there and that one week your mother went on holiday. You might so some werid… witchy shit when I'm not around or… you might be really into classical music… or you might be one of those insane people who puts eggs in the fridge"

"Benny we've been dating for six and a half years I think if I did you'd know by now" I giggled

"I don't know,"

"You might be one of those boys who always leave the toilet seat up, or has busy magazines under your bed, or jerks off in the shower" I giggled

"Y/n, we've been dating six and a half years you know all of those are true" He laughs 

“I do. So where are we going?”

“We are going somewhere special.” 

“Where?”

“Secret” He says Giving my hand a kiss.

We did our usual date night, we went and got pizza, then ice cream, and just drove around the new york streets chatting about this and that till we parked up as we often did in an old beaten up car park looking out across the bridges and water. 

"How long have we got?" I asked 

"About an hour" he shrugs checking his watch "did you… want to? Before we go back?"

"Maybe" I giggled blushing hard 

"You want to?"

"Yeah" I blushed

“ALright, But I get red lipstick all over me and we get caught. I'm blaming you” He smirked, giving my lips a gentle kiss… 

I sat nervously I couldn't keep putting it off any longer my mother was out shopping so it had to be now I picked up the phone pressing the rotary numbers and listening to it ring

"Hello?" I heard his voice ask

"Hi"

"Ohh hey y/n, what's up I wasn't expecting you to call me"

"Yeah, ummm the thing is Benny I uhh I need to ask you something?"

"Sure what's up?"

"Can you drive me to the doctor"

"The doctor? Why what's wrong?" He asks 

"Just uhhh… something. It can't be my mum"

"Okay, I'll be over in a bit" he says nerve in his voice 

I sat in the car fearful of what my other would say when she found out…

“What are we gonna do?” Benny asks 

“I don’t know” I answered

“Well. You could go back to the doctor” He says nervously

“No. I'm not gonna do that”

“Okay, I just wanted to check our options”

“I think, this is a good thing. You can get out of your mums house, we can live together in my flat, we can get married, we can have our little family” He smiled stroking my thigh

“Well, Y/n. You want me to be honest?”

“... yes”

“You would really want that?”

“I don’t think we have a lot of options Benny”

“Of course I do,” He smiled 

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Chapter Three: If We Have Each Other.

~When the world's not perfect When the world's not kind If we have each other then we'll both be fine. I will be your brother and I'll hold your hand. You should know I'll be there for you. I will always be there for you~

"Dude, we are in some serious jelly," I proclaimed as I paced around the small perimeter of the tree house.

"And that jam!" Isaac added from where he remained sitting at the table.

"Tight spot."

"Indeed!"

"Up a tree!" I supplied.

"Lost in the grass!" He offered. I swung around, shaking my finger at him.

"I'll tell ya what's grass, our- AAH FRACKLES!"  I had stepped on a stray nail in one of the floorboards. Hobbling my way back into my chair, I thunked my head against the table.

"But look at the bright side." Isaac leaned back in his chair. "Seeing as how our grand-theft-hairbrush is going viral and all, there is still a chance that me flipping the camera off could become a meme!" He pointed out. Slowly, I raised my head to stare at him.

"Are you kidding me right now?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"Consider it, Marty! All it took was five years being dead and now I'm finally fulfilling my life-long dream! If I'd known it was this easy, I would have killed myself a long time ago and spared me all that drama and emotional damage," Isaac smirked. I shook my head, my gaze drifted back to the Vader figure and snow globe sitting side-by-side on the shelf.

"Please don't talk like that Isaac," I sighed. Isaac's face fell.

"Sorry, I-I wasn't thinking," He apologized. I nodded.

"It's okay." It wasn't, but what more could be said when you didn't want to speak?

"Hey," Isaac spoke softly, ducking his head to get me to look at him, "Even if things go sour, I'm gonna be here for you. Just like I promised. Through thick and thin, remember?"

"Through thick and thin."

Smiling weakly, I repeated our life long mantra. I took a deep breath and focused back in on the problem.

"Alright, man. We gotta figure out a game plan. That video is gonna bring every hunter and their mom up here to ice our, or my, gluteus maximus. And if they know about the minimart then they know about the hospital. So, what's our play?"

"Well, I say you use your Sweet-Talkin' thing and talk any o'those alcoholic weirdos out of it," Isaac suggested. I shook my head.

"Isaac, you know how much I hate doing that."

Although it was a tempting idea, that wasn't something I wanted to mess with. If you start playing with the dark things, the dark things start playing with you. That wasn't a concept I liked, but Isaac would never understand that.

"I'm just saying it’s an option! And an easy one at that," Isaac pushed. I glared at him.

"I'm not doing that."

"It might come to it, Marty. I'm just saying as a plan C it-"

"The answer is no! Moving on." My tone killed and buried the subject. Isaac raised his hands in surrender.

"Fine. But misinformation is still our strongest tool. We should use it. Tell anybody who asks that it was all done on a computer," He conceded.

"Alright, that's plan A. What's plan B?"  Isaac's face twisted in thought. I let him do any and all planning when it came to telling a lie because he was so much better at making it convincing than I was. Isaac was the king of spouting believable bull crap. In fact, he would have made and excellent demon. That guy could probably get an angel to sell its soul for a box of holy doughnuts. When the idea hit Isaac's brain, I could almost see a light bulb light up above his head. He leaned forward, exited.

"Okay, I got it. We make up some BS story about a gay black dude who got chopped up by the ferry or something and the hospital wouldn't help him because all the doctors were racist homophobes, and it was the 50's." He nodded at me very seriously. Like I said, Isaac was king.

"That's is the worst, most ridiculous and stupid story I have ever heard," I told him. Isaac's nodding grew more excited. "It's perfect. They'll buy every word. Just one thing though, what about the mini-mart?" I pointed out.

Isaac opened his mouth before closing it again. Then he opened it. Then he closed it. Open. Closed. Open. Closed. This happened several more times before he finally came up with something good.

"So, our gay black guy was also a nice hobo dude and after he died he started stealing crap to give to his hobo buddies." Isaac gave me a thumbs up. I nodded.

"Okay, sounds good, sounds good. How do we explain me?" I splayed my hands. Isaac huffed and rolled his eyes, leaning back again and tucking his hands behind his head.

"Well, that’s easy. The camera never even caught a glimpse of your face, so you're his anonymous theft buddy slash item distributer!" He explained. I grinned at my fantastic phantasmal co-conspirator.

"Excellent, and of course nobody knows who the thief is. Especially not, innocent little me!" I chuckled at his brilliance.

"Exactly!" Isaac smirked.

"It's perfect! Except one last thing. We're gonna need some eyes and ears in on this. Someone to alert us when someone fishy comes lurking about," I said. Isaac nodded seriously.

"You're right. But who can we trust around here?" He asked. I could feel the smile split across my face.

"I can think of only one man for this job. A man as trustworthy as he is slimy. A man scrubbed clean by his own filth. A man so wonderful, words do him no justice!" I declared dramatically. Isaac was confused for a moment before realization dawned. His face fell.

"Please tell me you're not thinking what I think you're thinking."

"I think I am." I grinned. Isaac just sighed.

"Marty, no."

"Marty, yes!"

- 45 minutes later-

"Yo! Danny, my man! How's life?" I called out. Dan-the-Dope-Man looked up from...whatever it was he was doing outside Copper Harbor's one and only pharmacy. The pharmacy which he, in fact, owned. Honestly, I didn't want to know exactly what he had been doing behind the pile of cardboard boxes that were stacked up against the moldy brick. I figured it was better if I didn't. Dan smiled a grin that was missing two teeth.

"Marty! My worst customer and only friend! Life's good!" He greeted me, kicking a few of the boxes over to hide whatever suspicious activity it was that he had been up to. He winked and walked over to me, pushing his absolutely disgusting blond hair out of his face. "But, you know, business is betta'," He concluded.

I could never tell how tall Dan was, in this form especially. See, Dan-the-Dope-Man was a shapeshifter, though of course, no one else in the town knew that. That's how he was the owner of the pharmacy as well as a drug dealer. His other form, Jonathan De’ Santos, was the tall, 40-year-old, honest-looking Hawaiian man that ran the pharmacy. In this form, however, Dan was a somewhere-in-the-upper-five-foot-range Caucasian guy from Brooklyn with a thing against bathing. He said that the grungy, sewer-rat look was better for his side business. I wasn't sure how much of that I bought, but then again, who's gonna buy drugs from the guy who's supposed to make sure you don't destroy yourself with them.

"I bet it is!" I said, taking a step back when he reached me because, like I said, the guy had a thing against hygiene.

"This is a terrible, terrible idea," Isaac muttered, leaning on the wall to my left. I couldn't reply to him because although Dan knew what I was he didn't know about Isaac. So all I could do was give him a rude gesture behind my back. He saw it and stuck his tongue out at me.

"What can I do fo' ya, Marty?" Dan always pronounced my name as 'Mawty' at least in this form as it had a Brooklyn accent.

"Well, o' Danny boy, I have some rather bad news to deliver," I continued, "There might be some hunters coming to town soon."

Dan frowned; his eyes narrowed at me as he folded his arms over his chest.

"Well, that ain't good. Whatt'id ya do, Marty?" He asked. Sometimes Dan could be like my older brother, even if he didn't realize it.

"Woah, woah, woah! Who said I did anything?!" I defended. Dan just raised an eyebrow.

"You're always showin' off and ya know it," He said simply.

"He's right, you know," Isaac interjected. I wished I could tell him to shut his eidolic cake hole. It wouldn't have made much of a difference if I could, as he would still have continued talking, but the principle remained the same. Isaac was annoying. He needed to shut his mouth now and again. But I couldn't say that right now because he was a flipping ghost and ghosts are invisible. Mostly.

Ignoring Isaac, I opened my mouth to try to argue with Dan but quickly closed it again when found that I couldn't, because he was absolutely right. Now, I couldn’t admit that to him because Isaac was right here and that would be saying that he was right about something, and that was a thing I would never hear the end of.

"In regards," I started again.

"You'd just say 'regardless'," Isaac chimed in. I had to physically bite my tongue to keep from screaming at him to shut up.

"Regardless," I corrected. Isaac chuckled. I really needed to get myself some iron gauntlets or something so I could give his apparitional arse an involuntary appendectomy. Or just an iron ring so I could punch him in the face.

"Regardless, it wasn't me. This time. It was some attention seeking moron with a computer. That combined with my little hospital trips and you get something fishy looking." I finally managed to finish my sentence without Isaac chiming in.

"Well then ya betta' keep ya head down, Marty. I don' wan' ya gettin hurt." A dark look crossed over Dan's usually upbeat face. "Or worse," He finished.

"I know Danny, which is why I need you to do something for me," I said. Isaac sighed and face palmed but I ignored it.

"What?" Dan asked.

"I need you to watch out for any newcomers asking weird questions. I've got a plan if any hunters get too close to us, I just need to know who and where they are," I told him.

See, the pharmacy, the mini-mart, the bar, and the barber shop all sat across from each other at a four way intersection. Thus, Dan would have an excellent view of any hunter's first two targets. The origin of the supernatural activity, in this case the mini-mart, and the bar. He would be the perfect spy. Dan looked at me strangely.

"Say, Marty, you ain't plannin' on gankin' any a' dose' suckas' now are ya?" He asked, caution evident in his voice. I sighed, shaking my head internally. This was just another downside of being what I was. Everybody thinks you're a murderer. Though I knew I was far from innocent, I had never killed anyone. At least, anyone who didn't deserve it.

"Come on, Danny. In all the time you've known me, have I ever, er, ganked anyone?" I asked him, spreading my hands as if to catch the obvious answer.

"Well, no. But people can change," Dan pointed out. I rolled my eyes.

"Dan, I'm not gonna kill anyone. There, ya happy?" I said, only mildly aggravated. Isaac decided it was time to speak up again.

"You may not. But I will. If it comes to that. I won't let anybody hurt you, Marty. Not again. Not when I can do something about it."

I knew he was saying this now so I wouldn't be able to argue with him. Then I would forget and if he did kill someone Isaac would say he'd said he would. I ground my teeth together and reminded myself that it wasn't going to come to that. I wouldn't let it.

Meanwhile, Dan thought about what I'd spoken aloud.

"Yeah okay, but if anybody comes sniffin' I'm skippin', kay?" He agreed. I nodded.

"Okay, take care of yourself, Danny."

"You too, Marty." I smiled at him and began to walk away. Isaac pushed himself off the wall and trudged behind me, complaining loudly.

"Make sure you take care of yourself too, Issac! I'd hate myself if anything happened to you, Isaac! I wouldn't be able to survive without you, Isaac! Thanks Marty, your friendship means everything to me!" He said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Ugh! Why do I even bother?"

I smirked giving him the sign for 'I love you' behind my back.

"Aw shut up!"

But I knew he was smiling.

~So, I'm thankful for my sister even though sometimes we fight When high school wasn't easy, she's the reason I survived. I know she'd never leave me and I hate to see her cry. I just wanna tell her that I'm always by her side. I just wanna tell her that...

The worlds not perfect, but it’s not that bad. If we've got each other and that’s all we have I will be your brother and I'll hold your hand You should know I'll be there for you When the world's not perfect When the world's not kind If we have each other then we'll both be fine I will be your brother and I'll hold your hand You should know I'll be there for you.

I will always be there for you.~

Lyrics from: If We Have Each Other by Alec Benjamin

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

A Helping Hand

a/n: It’s been a while since I’ve posted a fic. Ive been working on my health considering how much stress I was under at my old job, but I’m doing much better now. Anyway, I hope you guys will enjoy this.

This fic is set before Zeta 7 and the reader were dating, and when they were still friends. Set during and before the beginning of The Fluffy Adventures With Your Boyfriend Doofus Rick series.

In this fic the reader only wants to help.

————-

It was almost time for you to eat again. At times it almost seemed to be more of a chore than a necessity to have a meal or to follow the routine of it, but hunger had led you here. And although there were many other things you might've preferred to do, this was what had to be done at the moment. Anticipatory feelings were lacking as you opened up the fridge; had it been conveniently full of delicious food which didn't need to be put together, and could simply be warmed up, that would have been great, but that was wishful thinking. Of course, you hadn't gone food shopping yet, so your old fridge was bare; eating out was an option, but you already did that for lunch and it didn't feel worth getting properly dressed for.

It had been while you were thinking of a creative way to use elbow pasta and ketchup when a song played through the tiny speakers of your phone; it was a phone call and you didn't have to hesitate to answer; it was from your favorite person; from Rick. You tried not to get too excited whenever he would call, but you couldn't help yourself; hearing his voice alone could make you happy. Pressing the green answer button on your touch screen, you smiled despite his inability to see it. “Hello Rick. How are you?”

“He-hello? I'm um - I'm fine. I hope this - is this a-a good time?”

His usual soft, cheerful voice seemed reluctant, almost shy tonight. You always thought he sounded sweeter over the phone, and it just made you want to tease him a little. Leaning against your kitchen counter, you could not help but laugh. “A good time? It is now. So, what’s up? Other than the ceiling. ”

He chuckled at that and you were relieved he couldn't see you at this moment, for the warmth in your cheeks would take a couple of minutes to recover from. “Gosh," he started, "I-I-I-I-I was just wondering if y-you would like to come over. It’s almost time for dinner and I um - I finished cooking, but…”

“You cooked too much again?”

“Y-yeah.”

"You're going to go through all your groceries that way."

"I-I couldn't help it." he confessed. "This recipe called f-for a certain amount of ingredients, but then a-again I guess it's f-for multiple servings."

You heard him sigh, and the thought of his frowning face came to mind. So, this was simply to invite you to dinner: it didn't matter what he might've called you for; the answer was almost always yes. As of late, Rick had been cooking more than one person could eat at a time; you always did think it was odd that he'd cook in abundance, especially since he lived alone, but he'd blame it on old habits. However, it made you wonder if he was looking for reasons not to eat alone; not that you minded. Interrupting the silence, you commented. “Well, I guess I'll have to help you make it disappear then."

"Huh?" he brightened, "Is that a-a yes?"

"What do you think it means? Yes, that's a yes. Goodness," you giggled. "I'll see you soon.”

You hung up and rushed back upstairs to change. What a silly man you thought. Such a silly…but adorable man, who had so much room for kindness and doubt.

——————

It was lovely to see him, and to listen to what he'd call gossip but was only the latest development of the pigeons which had made a nest in one of his fruit trees. "Y-you gotta see how they've made their nest. Boy, it's - it's fascinating how they used s-some old magazine clippings and hair ties."

Touching his hand lightly, you wondered. "Do you have any pics of them that you can show me?"

With raised brow, he started. “Sh-sh-show you?"

"Yeah," You leaned forward a little, and smiled. "I want to see what you've been telling me about."

Without hesitation, he searched his labcoat pockets and retrieved his phone; scrolling through his gallery until he came across said pictures. "I-I-I-I took these a couple of - of days ago."

Your fingers lightly brushed his palm as you grabbed his phone to glance through the pictures; he had a good eye for angles and lighting, and from the looks of it, the pigeons seemed to be relaxed so he might've fed them first; how nice. "They're so cute. I can’t get over how fluffy they look."

Replacing the phone into his palm, he visibly tensed; your fingers had brushed his palm again. Now, the urge to allow your hand to linger there was strong and the thought of lacing your fingers with his had been tempting, but you did neither. You quickly withdrew, with a new sense of embarrassment over such thoughts. He wouldn't understand how you felt, because he didn't see you that way.

“How do y-y-you like them?”

Hiding behind your water glass, you answered. “Way more than I thought I would.”

_________

Rick was still eating, but not with the same vigor from earlier. You wondered if you had insulted him or something; he had been avoiding direct eye contact for a while. You were no reader of minds, so there was no telling of the feelings inside; of those senses which couldn't be touched. "Rick, is something wrong? Have I….. have I overstayed my welcome and you don't know how to tell me? Is...is that why you won't look at me?"

"N-no, that's not it."

"Then, did I hurt your feelings? I hope not."

He sagged a little in his seat, and he didn't answer, but he shook his head no. You thought back to earlier, and how you had looked at the pictures he took and called them cute, but other than that, you didn't say anything problematic. Was it because you asked? Maybe it wasn't.

It was easy to hurt his feelings being as sensitive as he was, and although it might've been against your better judgment, you reached out and touched the back of his hand. "Please talk to me. I don't know what I did, but I'm so sorry. I don't want you to be upset at me."

With widened eyes, he's gazed at your hand, then back towards you. "No, that’s not th-the problem."

"Then why are you so quiet all of a sudden? It isn't like you."

"It's because I…I'm s-s-sorry I talk so much."

"What do you mean? Where is this coming from?"

"It appeared as though y-you were getting tired of all my talking.” He started in an almost accusatory manner but must've realized how it sounded and continued with more calmness. “Gee, I-I didn't want to sour the evening, s-s-so I thought I should just sh-shut up."

"But I don't want you to do that. I love all your talking."

"R-really?"

His surprise at this pained you. How could he think that you'd tire of it and him? Maybe when you were thinking, he mistook it as disinterest. How could you show him you cared? You did what only seemed natural and squeezed his hand but he stiffened.

You realized that when he didn't answer right away, that the napkin he had been using had been dropped and was now on the floor; a faint blush dusting his cheeks and the tops of his ears. You didn't think that it'd be such a big deal to randomly touch him, but you thought it was sweet that he'd get flustered like that; if he wasn't so shy at times, you'd think there was more to it; if only there was. "It's fun hearing you talk.” You confessed. “I feel as though I have so much I can learn from you. So feel free to talk to me."

The relief that washed over him was palpable and he smiled warmly at this. It made your heart swell, and you withdrew your hand although it appeared that he wouldn't have minded. Still, you didn't want to upset him again with misunderstandings. "Y-you're a really nice person. It's - I'm glad t-to know someone like you."

You were glad too.

____________

"Anyway, it's interesting how they can take one man's trash and turn it into a home, but what could they do if given better materials?"

Taking a drink of water, he managed to recover a little. "I-I bet they could make a-a work of art if given the right materials. Wh-why do you ask?"

"I just wanted to know what you were thinking in that brain of yours. Must be interesting, especially with all the things you can come up with."

Yes, you did find the topic of pigeons fascinating but not as much as you found that toothy grin of his inviting. Having finished eating, you listened happily to his delightful little tales and knowings; watching as he'd start eating but then forget his food when he was at the peak of his explanation. He always did seem more cheerful when you were over and had so much to tell you when you were here, but you attributed that to the fact that he didn't have many friends. Though, you didn't mind his need for conversation; rather you enjoyed how random and easy it was to talk with him; his sweetness enriched your soul whenever he was especially happy and attentive in conversation. Handing him a new napkin, you teased. "I'm surprised you haven't made a mini-mansion type birdhouse for them out of whatever spare wood you have in the garage. Unless you already have. I bet it'd be all tricked out with a little warm birdbath and a small mirror so they can check themselves out, fluff their feathers and such."

"Gosh," he sighed, waving his fork a little as he ruminated on his thoughts before the beginnings of a boyish smile appeared on his lips. "did I already tell y-you about that?"

"No," you giggled; happy that your assumptions weren't farfetched. "but I took a wild guess."

He was that kind of guy after all; soft-hearted and fond of the living things around him; it was one of the many qualities that endeared him to you. You wished you could've taken part in its construction. "If you had told me sooner," you mentioned. "I would have helped. I could've helped painting it or something."

"Gosh, I thought y-you had other things to do so I…it wasn't a-a big deal. It was simply an um - an old man's hobby."

"It's just….it sounded like fun. I know it might not mean much saying this, but I would've enjoyed spending that time with you. Working side by side and discussing little details about it. I would…. You see, I love spending time with you."

It was only after you had said all that, in which you realized how easy it would've been to misconstrued. Sitting there, you resisted the urge to bury your face in your hands; wondering what was with you these days. Since when was it okay to get bold and be frank like that? Every so often, when you did say such things, you saw, for fractions of moments, confusion and more….as though he ought to say something; there were no tears and there never was, but you thought he seemed hurt; glassy-eyed and lost. Studying you, he opened his mouth to speak but closed it again; preferring to examine his napkin and tableware then to continue that thought.

He did this often, especially when you surprised him; for better or worse. Perhaps he didn't want to appear foolish, but whatever he could've said was interrupted by your sudden movement. You reached over for his empty dish and went over to the sink to begin on the dishes. However, he jumped up and insisted that you needn't help to clean, snapping out of whatever mood which might've overcome him a moment ago. You thought it was the least you could do; if you had been a decent cook you would've offered a meal in return, but it wasn't likely that it was going to happen. "Rick, you cooked so I might as well help you clean."

"Gosh, y-you don't have to do that. I was the one that invited you over. As th-the host, it's my responsibility."

"That may be true," you reasoned, feeling responsible for him in some way. "but you're always doing stuff for me, so I thought I'd stay and help for a bit."

"Huh? Wh-what?"

"Yeah. I mean what good are friends if you can't put them to work every so often? Besides," you quieted a bit as you scrubbed away at the baking pan. "I want to help you."

It's not like you were using this as an excuse to stay a little longer now. Right? Well, just a little. It was still early and you didn't want to go home yet. Grabbing a kitchen towel, he chuckled lightly. "Well, I-I guess I'll help y-you dry."

Standing beside you, his warmth radiated off him, and from this close, you could smell spices, a hint of vanilla, and motor oil? Perhaps it was the scent of his house, but it was comforting. Good thing you had the excuse of concentrating on scrubbing because otherwise, it would've been obvious on how affected you were by him.

_______

After you finished wiping down the counters, you checked the time and thought you'd be better off heading on home. Grabbing your keys you were ready to say goodbye, but he followed you to the door. "Are y-y-you going?"

Without facing him, you nodded. "I am."

"Then I'll walk y-you home."

"Okay."

In the past, you had told him that it wasn't necessary since you lived so close, but you came to enjoy those small moments of kindness; of his sincere care for your well-being that made the world a slightly easier place to live. The walk didn't take long since you only lived a few doors down, but it was lovely nonetheless. "Thank you for the food. It was really good."

Scratching the back of his neck, he answered. "I-I hoped you would. I um - I enjoyed y-your company."

"Me too."

You played with your keys a little, wondering why you should be so nervous. It's not like you two were dating; it's not like he'd even consider the possibility, but it was moments like this that made you hope and contemplate if you should just tell him. It was always on tip of your tongue; the words which begged to be said, but you weren't feeling brave yet. You needed more time; just enough to be ready for a change. There was no rush, but logic and feelings didn't coincide. "Rick," you started, unsure of what you were doing. "can I um….can I ask you something?"

"Y-yes! Of c-course. What's on y-your mind?"

Think of something you thought. "You'd tell me if you needed help, wouldn't you? I'm not talking about what we did this evening, but stuff that….like if you need help with your chores or something. I know you get busy sometimes and I'd hate it if you weren't all caught up on the latest news about your pigeons or if there were dishes that needed washing."

"Gosh, I-I thought I was doing f-fine with all that," he confessed. "but it - I'll be sure t-to let you know."

"Good, that's...that's good because I'm always happy to help you."

Gathering whatever foolishness which laid at the pit of your stomach and daydreams, you rested a hand on his arm and smiled up at him. "Rick, I'd do almost about anything for you….that is…if that's….. that is what friends are for, right? At least that's what I think."

Though, was that what you thought? Wasn't this just a roundabout way of saying you wanted to be around him more? Oh, if only he could understand. You knew it wasn't right to mislead him, but he never reacted the way you thought he should.

Glancing down at where your hand still laid, a wistful, almost sad quality passed across his stormy eyes before continuing. "Boy, th-that's thoughtful," he began, though as easily as a summer sky could change so did his words. "but I-I wouldn't want t-to bother you or take up your time with anything like that."

"That's the thing, it wouldn't be a bother at all."

This is where you thought you'd messed up, but you couldn't seem to keep quiet when he was involved. It felt as though you were trying to monopolize your way into spending more time with him; as though you were desperate to get him to be around you. "I mean, as a writer, I can just do my job whenever. So, you don't have to hesitate."

That familiar flit of sadness passed over his eyes again and you thought that maybe he pitied you because all you had in the world was yourself and a house you simply inherited. You didn't want to tell him you were lonely, because if you did, you didn't want him to think that it was the only reason you spent time with him; it'd break your heart if you hurt this sensitive creature, but you couldn't help yourself; it was your selfishness talking. True, you were making this more complicated than it had to be, but you didn't know how to fix that yet. "I just…I don't mind being around you more and hanging out. That's all."

Although, it might've not been as complicated after all for it didn't take much for him to lift up your moods. All he had to do was smile, and to pull you into his arms for a big hug. Did he know?

"Rick?"

Squeezing you a fraction tighter, he confessed. "Gee, it's - I-I appreciate your worrying a-about me," he started, his soft, warm voice brushing past your ear and giving you goosebumps. "but I can't - can't help but wonder why y-you look as though you could use a friend right now. Are you al-alright? Did y-you want t-t-to talk about it?"

Your fingers dug into the worn fabric of his sweater and you wanted to cry because he was so devastatingly kind, and you knew in that one moment it didn't matter how long you held on to him; he'd let you hold him for as long as you needed because he was great at empathizing. Little did he know it unraveled your heart every time. "You're right Rick, I do need a friend. I…I need...."

You; the word which refused to leave your mouth. His assumption filled in the blank. "You probably miss your dad on nights like this huh? It's hard t-to go home to an empty house."

That was partly true. "Mhm."

Rubbing your back, he sighed. "Th-there there. Everything is going t-t-to be alright."

Is it? Would it be alright? No, he didn't know or if he did, he ignored it. Though, like this, you could almost believe there was more to this relationship than… then being good friends.

With your face hidden in the softness of his sweater, held so sure and firm, with such strength that seemed unnatural for one his age, he was as you thought of him; as a man you held in the highest regard, beyond reason or doubt that you could love if…if it was appropriate. Why couldn't he stay that friend that you needed and why did you wish for more than this? Was this to be your punishment? To adore someone who made you happy but couldn't be more than society should allow?

"Will I be alright?" you confessed more to yourself than to him.

Squeezing you a fraction tighter, you felt him nod. "Y-you're young, so y-you will be."

That's right, you were young; too young for him. While you had been ready to beat yourself up for it, he continued in a voice that was above a whisper. "I'd like t-t-to help you if I can but only if y-you want me to. Is that o-okay? Do you want me t-to?"

You wanted so much, but more than anything you wanted what he was willing to give. Rubbing his back in a similar, soothing motion, you softened. "Please do."

Another sigh escaped him, but he continued to rub your back; the warmth of his hands and sounds of his breathing making you a little sleepy. You hadn't been checking the time, but you were sure that it had been a while. What you hadn't been sure of was what the neighbors were going to think if they saw you two in such a warm embrace at this time of the evening or anytime for that matter; you didn't care because this felt right. It was as though you could melt into him with how comforting it was. Who knows how long you must've held onto him, but eventually you heard him say softly, albeit oddly disappointed. "It's getting late and I-I should let you go. It's…and you…but y-you can always call me if you - if you can't sleep."

Glancing up at him, you wondered why it ever had to end. However, with reluctance, you pulled away, but only enough so that you could hold him a little longer. "You're right. I…I should go to bed. Thank you for the lovely evening, my wonderful… my friend."

And with that, you released your hold on him. However, if you hadn't known any better, the look he gave you was softer than his usual ones. Was…no…it must've been nothing. A trick of the dim porch light. Half hidden by the dark, he confessed. "Thank you f-for being my - for being my friend. It makes me happy t-to have you around. I'll um - I'll be sure t-to make myself more available to you if you need me."

Your heart ached with half affection, half guilt. You really were asking for so much you didn't deserve. "Oh Rick, I'd appreciate that."

For a quick second, you saw him stretch out his hand but just as quickly let it fall back to his side. Then, he stepped back and reminded you. "Don't forget t-to lock the door."

"I won't."

You opened your front door, and smiled up at him from your doorway, trying to channel all that you felt in a single word; knowing that was all you could do for now. "Goodnight."

Softening, he turned away quickly, mostly hidden in the darkness, and waved. "D-don't let th-the bed bugs bite."

Closing the door behind you, you barely made it to the couch before you began to cry. What were you thinking? Playing around with a lonely man's feelings and possibly confusing him. Could you ever get over him? Would your heart let you?

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you thought back to only minutes ago when you were secure in his arms, and you felt as though you belonged to him. And how your blouse smelled like him now or that his care for you was almost enough. Though, were his actions like that of a parent? You could only wonder. Though, if you couldn't get over him, couldn't you help change his mind?

When you had calmed a little and had time to change and get a drink of water, you found that you still weren't sleepy. It was late but before you could give it much forethought, you dialed his number and he picked up right away. "C-can't sleep?"

"Yeah."

"Me either. I um - I was thinking a-about what you said about th-the birdhouse. While it is built, and I'd painted it, I would be happy t-t-to have you over when you're available and help me make it pretty. Gosh, it's - it's only if you want to."

"That would be lovely. Too bad it's late because I would've come over now if you'd asked."

"Y-you see, that wouldn't um - tomorrow would be better."

"What's the matter? A little sleepover never hurt anybody." You teased.

Right away you heard a clatter and then a crack. Did he drop his phone?

"Rick? Are you okay?"

"Yes, I-I-I-I just - my phone had fallen."

"I see. Sorry for the bad joke."

“It's o-okay. Just surprised me is -is all.”

A chair scraped the floor, and you heard the click of either a pen or a small appliance. "I-I don't think I'll be able to sleep t-tonight but I won't keep you up with m-my thoughts. It'd get kind of boring for you."

"I mean, I am tired, but I don't mind listening to you for a while. Could you just talk? It can be about anything."

He sighed into the phone, and you heard paper. Perhaps he was flipping through a book. “I-I was thinking of reading, but my eyes are a-a bit tired.”

“When you do read, do you only read nonfiction?”

“I-I like to read a little bit of everything.”

“You do? Well, how convenient. I happen to have a bunch of books and if you'd ever like to borrow any of them, you're free to do so.”

“Boy, I'll have to take a-a look the next time I’m over. Hey, um - I do have a-a story you might enjoy. It has t-t-to do with how I came to have jasmine in my backyard. Would you like t-to hear it?”

Grabbing a pillow, you nodded. “Yes, I really would. Though, tell it slowly so that I don't miss a thing.”

With a chuckle, he began to explain, and you placed the phone beside you; careful as to not drop it as his sing-song voice twisted and curled about you in your lonely room.

Fin

[naomiknight-17]

Hello Fresh Meal 17!

Chorizo hash! I don't think I've ever made a hash of any kind before. Luckily, it is an extraordinarily easy dish to prepare. So let's get started, shall we?

First up, review the recipe, preheat oven, clean all produce. The usual.

As is becoming a regular part of the routine, chop up them tubers. These are gonna get tossed with oil, salt and pepper and go roast in the oven while we work on everything else. This recipe is a lot of prep, but the cooking and assembly are very straightforward.

Got some onions caramelizing on the stove. Now to properly caramelize onions you wanna have them on low heat for like... an hour or two. HF's version is a quickie shortcut over medium heat with the addition of a bit of sugar and balsamic vinegar. You know what though? It works, and it is a heckuva time saver.

Anyway, while these were cooking up, I stirred them every few minutes in between prepping everything else.

The chef knife got a good workout halving the grape tomatoes, chunking up the green pepper, and finely chopping the parsley, garlic and green onions. Once the onions were done getting caramelized, they got put aside in a bowl and the pan had a quick wipe to get ready for the peppers.

This pan was on medium-high heat, which was enough to brown and almost blister the peppers, which is fine with me cuz that helps bring out their sweetness and softens their bitter edge some.

Soon the chorizo and garlic joined in on the fun and before you know it...

EVERYBODY IN THE POOL, PARTY AT GREEN PEPPER'S PLACE WOO

...

Maybe I shouldn't write these after exhausting college project type days. Hmm.

Anyway, once every darn ingredient (except the sour cream and half the green onions) were nice and heated through, that was it - hash complete. Hash is literally just like... throw ground beef or whatever loose meat (in this case, chorizo) and a bunch of stuff into a pan, usually with potatoes, and when it's cooked eat it. Very straightforward, like I mentioned.

Now it may not be much to look at - it really is just a mess in a bowl with caramelized onions, sour cream and green onions on top - but this was flavorful and hearty. Just an excellent meal for a long, hard, cold day. And it wasn't that hard to put together, either, came together in like 40-45 minutes?

Oh! And I should mention, the recipe does suggest an optional fried egg on top, which makes this meal even heartier - but I don't like fried eggs, and I didn't want to dirty another pan. Hubby ended up putting two eggs on his instead, and he was very happy with the result.

Verdict: It ain't pretty, but it tastes that way.

Next time we're looking at a steak recipe - woo, steak!! I usually only eat that on anniversaries. At the Keg. Man, remember when you could just GO to a restaurant? Those were the days.

Anyway. We'll see how this HF steak measures up. See y'all then - and thanks for reading!

[monsters-demons-and-ai-oh-my]

McDonald's! McDonald's!

I actual posted this a few days ago on AO3 but I’ve been lazy about posting it here, I thought I’d try writing something a little more comedic in tone than what I usually write (even though it has angst by nature of when the story is set).

AO3 Link

Post 13x01 - On the way back to the bunker the Winchesters stop for dinner at a McDonald’s with the day-old Jack. The nonsense you’d expect ensues.

Sam felt like a cosmic joke.

Not in the general constant way that came from his life being an actual, honest to goodness, vastly pre-planned since de-railed cosmic joke, but in the way that he could imagine Chuck standing on a stage in a c-list comic club pitching his current predicament in a nervous voice to a tough crowd.

"So, uh... two brothers and Lucifer's newborn son who just happens to look like a… I-don’t-even-know-what-ager, are on a road trip…"

Sam almost snorted and rubbed at his eyes tiredly, if he was laughing at that he was, well and truly sleep-deprived. It had been a very long very draining forty odd hours filled with loss and death and… and all the other shit their lives entailed, he wanted nothing more than to eat something and pass out.

Dean looked exactly the same as he had when they entered the car hours earlier, staring straight ahead, dead quiet, not even one of his old tapes crooning from the speakers.

And Jack…

Sam glanced behind him expecting to see the boy still sitting stiffly watching both men, but was surprised to see him face squished against the window, eyes closed and breathing deeply, out like a light.

So Nephilim slept...

It dawned on Sam they didn't know the first thing about the kid. Despite what age the boy appeared it was still terrifying to have someone's hours old child depend on you for safety and survival when you had no idea what their needs were.

Was he hungry too? Did Nephilim eat? Sam almost smacked himself. He and Dean could deal with skipping a meal or two to make good time on the road, but it was just wrong to make a kid go hungry.

"Dean?" his brother ignored him staring out at the dark road.

Sam, sighed, "It's been hours, do you… do you want to swap places?"

Dean almost never wanted to switch but it was enough to make Dean raise his eyebrows and get his attention.

"I'm fine," he said gruffly.

"You're not... ready for a break?" Sam said carefully.

Dean shot him a look, "we stopped for a piss break like an hour ago, your bladder isn't that small."

Sam huffed he guessed he'd have to spell it out, "look, Dean, we’ve been running ragged for two days straight, the only calories you’ve consumed was a friggin’ big gulp, and we have a kid in the back seat, we need food, we need sleep…”

Dean shot his brother a sharp look probably about to make another rude comment about said kid, but Sam shot the look right back.

He knew his brother was in a bad place, hell he was in a bad place, he felt like as soon as he let himself think about Cas or Mom or even freaking Crowley he’d fall apart but that didn’t mean he was okay with Dean taking everything out on him, or Jack.

Dean sighed.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Sam couldn’t talk his brother into stopping for the night but he did at least manage to convince Dean to stop somewhere for food.

Judging by the enthusiastic nodding Jack gave when Sam asked if he was hungry, Nephilim, unlike the angelic side of their family tree, did in fact eat.

The only place nearby that was open at half-past ten was a twenty-four-hour McDonald's off the highway.

They decided to actually go inside the restaurant for once since it was nearly empty and no one working the late shift would ask questions about two strange men carting around what looked like a perpetually confused college freshman.

And anyway it didn’t matter how old Jack looked there was no way Dean was letting a twenty-hour-old kid eat in Baby.

Sam made sure Jack's coat was closed enough to hide the bloody hole in his before they headed inside. Dean told the kid to sit down and not do anything in one of the corner booths as they went to actually get the food, but Jack didn't seem to mind, he just keep looking around with a kind of cautious curiosity.

Like all fluorescent lighting and brightly colored window cling ads were the most fascinating things he’d ever laid eyes on.

It made Sam's mouth twitch upward despite everything.

"Do you think the Anti-Christ eats McNuggets?" Dean said bluntly.

Sam shot him a look, "kids like them so it's probably a fair bet, yeah…"

"You're not his nanny Sam, until we..." Dean lowered his voice to a whisper, "until we figure out how to deal with… it, I'm not going to play house or get attached, and you should probably do the same…'

Sam bit back a response that he wasn't planning to let Dean kill a kid who at this point had done nothing wrong, how he thought Jack could be the only way they’d get their mother back. He knew after everything that had happened that if Dean killed the newborn Nephilim it would push him over an edge he wouldn't come back from.

But now… wasn't the time.

Sam wasn’t ready to say it and Dean certainly wasn’t ready to hear it.

“That’s still no reason to... Dean?” Sam snorted as Dean ignored him and walked up to the counter to address the bored-looking teen behind the cash register.

“Sam?” a quiet voice made him jump a foot in the air.

“Jack…” Sam breathed heart racing, “you, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” the boy said sheepishly, fiddling with his hands.

“Did you need something?”

Jack’s eyebrows furrowed looking deep in concentration for a moment before looking up with a satisfied smile.

“No.”

Of course not…

“Hey hey… I thought I told you to stay at the table,” Dean pointed a handful of straws at Jack accusatorially.

“I got bored.”

“You got…?” Dean snorted, “Whatever, I don’t care, just go back and sit on your ass until we bring the food over.”

Now Sam was annoyed, “you ordered for me?”

“Yeah, don’t give me that look, you always get the same thing anyway.”

“Excuse me sir…” the bored teenager blinked wearily at them, “what dipping sauce did you want with the nuggets?”

Both brothers looked instinctively towards Jack who just looked confused, “Sauce?”

We’ve got, Barbeque, Sweet and Sour, Signature Sauce, Ranch…” the teen trailed off at the blank look on Jack’s face.

They sighed and clearly having stopped giving a fuck by this time of night reached below the counter and plunked two multicolored fistfuls of sauces onto their tray.

Jack’s eyes went wide, “Thank you, you’re very nice!”

“Go nuts kid," they sighed going back about their business yelling at someone behind the counter about a lack of fresh fries..

Jack beamed at the brothers, Dean rolled his eyes looking like he was about to say something but Sam interrupted grabbing two cups from the tray and pulling the boy away before Dean could say something snarky and crush his enthusiasm.

"Since Dean said he has the food," Sam handed the confused Nephilim a paper cup, "I've got a new job for you…"

Jack followed Sam like a duckling over to the drink machine holding his cup gingerly with both hands and just… staring.

Sam felt incredibly awkward doing a simple task with a rapt audience.

"You just…" Sam gestured for a moment then sighed going through the process of filling his cup with ice figuring it would be better to just show the boy.

He got lemonade as it seemed to be the only option that didn't have a thousand grams of sugar and dye and felt oddly accomplished as Jack watched him work the machine with awe.

He carefully finished capping the cup and putting in the straw, and then found himself almost pushed away in Jack’s eagerness to apply his new skill.

Jack painstakingly and carefully filled the cup with ice and then peered at all the spigots looking mildly overwhelmed.

"Just pick what looks good to you buddy," Sam found himself saying amused.

Jack nodded seriously, at this point in the less than a day of what made up his entire life on Earth it was probably very important to him.

He eventually settled on some strangely flavored Sprite with a bright green and orange label smiling triumphantly at Sam as he managed to start the machine.

It took all of four seconds for Jack’s triumph to turn to horror as the soda neared the top of the cup and then proceeded to fizz over.

Oh right… newborns know nothing about carbonation...

Before Sam had a chance to react Jack panicked and in his hurry to pull the cup away managed to slosh a good bit of it over his hands and part of his jacket cuffs.

"Whoa whoa, hold on," Sam reached out to steady the cup and Jack stepped back with his dripping sleeves held out in front of him.

"I… I'm sorry, did…"Jack looked forlornly up at him, "did I do that?"

"Did you…" Sam blinked perplexed, "Oh no no, no that wasn't… the machine is supposed to add bubbles to some stuff. I really should have warned you… um."

The boy stared at him, wet hands still stuck out awkwardly.

"There should be a bathroom you…" Sam sighed setting down both drinks and gently guiding him in that direction, "you'll need to wash your hands before they get all sticky, do you know how to…"

Jack blinked and said as if it was obvious, "mom taught me how to wash my hands."

Ah yes, the mysterious Nephilim fetus telepathy Jack had mentioned before.

"Right yes, go… do that, and I'll wait for you at the table, okay?"

Jack nodded and headed off to the bathroom arms still stuck out. And Sam dealt with the drinks and went to guard the table while thanking Kelly up in heaven.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

"Where the hell’s the kid?" Dean said when he arrived with their tray of sauces and food.

"Bathroom, there was uh… a mishap with the soda machine," Sam said sheepishly.

Dean put down the tray with a little more force than necessary and looked around wildly, like he was half ready to draw his gun..

"Seriously?" Sam deadpanned, "dude, would you just chill, he's not going to open up a hell gate in the men’s room."

"You were supposed to watch him," Dean said accusatorily.

"Half of creation wants him dead and we're literally the only living people he knows, where would he even go?'

"You're really buying this lost puppy routine Sam?"

"Ah yes, because we all have such devious plans when we're a day old," Sam muttered dryly.

Dean rolled his eyes, "You know that’s not the same. And this is exactly what I'm talking about Sam, he already has you under his thumb."

"He's a kid not a prisoner, and I'm not going to treat him like one when he hasn’t actually done anything."

"Because waiting until he kills someone is a great idea,”Dean muttered darkly unwrapping his Big Mac and taking a pointed bite.

Sam ignored him, snatching a few of Dean's fries petulantly.

"Really?" Dean huffed with his mouth full, "eat your own food…"

Sam blinked innocently, "I wanted fries, you got me salad, you should’ve asked."

Dean rolled his eyes and Sam snorted a laugh pulling his actual meal off the tray.

"How long has that kid been gone anyway?"

"Uh, ten minutes…?" Sam said sheepishly.

Dean paused, "to wash his hands?"

"It's fine," Sam said, coating his salad with dressing, definitely not concerned.

Dean looked about ready to leap up and make sure Jack hadn't teleported off to destroy Chicago, but thankfully about then the kid finally emerged.

"What took you so long?" Dean asked, annoyed when he reached the table.

"It… it was different than at the house," Jack said playing with his hands nervously, “there were two sinks…”

Dean and Sam both looked at each other in confusion, Sam shrugged, maybe it was a kid thing?

"It's fine, just come sit down," Sam brushed it off patting the seat beside him Jack took it, still eyeing Dean a little warily.

Dean grabbed his fries and did his best to move them out of Sam's reach then pushed the tray with the rest of the food towards Jack.

"Here, McNuggets, fries, eat," Dean said gruffly.

Sam handed Jack his drink he’d salvaged with a little less roughness, the boy thanked him and everything lapsed into awkward silence.

Sam cleared his throat, “so um… I was thinking, in the morning we need to stop at a thrift store or something.”

“Yeah, why?” Dean asked, preoccupied with his food.

“For Jack,” Sam explained, “he only has the one set of clothes, and his shirt already has a big bloody hole in it.”

“Just lend him some of your clothes if it bothers you so much,” Dean balked.

Sam snorted at the image “We’re not exactly the same size, he’d be swimming in them, and besides Jack doesn’t even own his own underwear.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “there’s no point in buying a bunch of crap he’s probably never going to get the chance to-” Dean paused distracted.

He reached over to grab the sauce Jack was struggling to open and tore off the top, “you pull the tab,” he said gruffly.

Jack gave a small unsure smile and went about more cautiously opening more of the sauce packets, “Is your house close by?” he asked hopefully.

“It’s not a house, it’s a bunker…” Dean said bluntly, his voice softened to normal after catching Sam’s glaring at him, “And no, it’ll take a few more days..”

Jack shoulders drooped for a moment before he sighed softly, shook himself and got back to contentedly opening and lining up one of every sauce in a big arc.

Maybe the long hours on the road were tiring him out to… Sam made a note to find something for the kid to do besides nap and sit in awkward silence over the next few days.

“Is it a very big place?” Jack asked after a minute.

“Just eat your McNuggets,” Dean sighed.

Jack looked sheepish but, seeming satisfied with his rainbow of sauces, finally opened his box of chicken nuggets and took one out eyeing it a little warily.

“They’re good I promise,” Sam prompted him gently.

Jack nodded seriously and finally took a cautious bite.

The kid’s eyes lit up and he looked up at Sam, a big smile quickly spreading across his face as he chewed..

Sam was unable to stop himself from smiling back.

"They're good!" Jack declared happily.

Sam chuckled and stabbed a fork into his own food ignoring the look he could feel Dean giving him. “Bite me Dean,” Sam thought. Good things in their life were too rare not to smile at a kid’s obvious joy.

Jack hummed happily to himself as he sampled his fries next but he again ran into a bit of snag when it came to his drink, he put his mouth over the end of his straw-like he saw Sam and Dean do, but then paused and looked perplexed. He pulling the straw out of his mouth and then tried again, still clearly not getting anything. He huffed and pressed his lips together in frustration.

Sam noticed and cleared his throat to get the boy’s attention telegraphed the process for Jack to follow, being sure to make a loud enough slurping noise that the boy realized what he had done wrong despite the disturbed look it earned him from Dean.

It was worth it to see the lightbulb go off in Jack’s head and the pleased mildly overwhelmed look on the boy’s face when he got his first taste of pop.

"Sam," Jack said a little sheepishly after a minute, dipping one of his nuggets in barbeque sauce, "can I ask you a question?"

“Shoot”

Jack’s eyebrows furrowed.

Sam kicked himself mentally, “I mean, yeah, sure, of course, ask away.”

Jack nodded, still looking a little confused, “Um, my mom she taught me a lot of things, but I keep finding new things that I don’t… get?”

It made sense, Kelly only had, what?, a few short months? Weeks? Who knew how short of a window between when a Nephilim gained awareness and when they were actually born to teach her son all she could. And while Sam sent a thankful prayer up to heaven for her positive influence (and for her teaching Jack things that would be incredibly awkward to have to teach to a kid that looked Jack’s physical age) he doubted things like why McDonald’s workers wore weird topless hats made the cut.

“Like what?” Sam prompted him gently.

"Like…" Jack looked a little unsure, "why there were two different sinks in the bathroom."

Sam opened and closed his mouth, the answer felt so obvious he had to be missing something, "what do you mean?"

"Well one was normal and had a handle though it didn’t stay turned on," he described, "but the other one,” Jack looked a little uncomfortable, “ It turned on whenever it looked at me…"

Dean nearly choked on his drink.

“When it… looked at you?” Sam asked carefully as Dean hacked up a lung.

Jack nodded looking mildly concerned towards Dean, “Um… yes, and the paper towels did the same thing and so did… what I think was soap?”

“What you think was soap?” Dean said incredulously, clearing his throat.

Jack nodded, “the sink with the handle had a regular bar of soap, but it was in a cage that I couldn’t see how to open to open it so I used the foam stuff the machine by the other sink spat at me.”

Dean’s mouth opened and closed then he buried his face in his hands.

“Um… Well I think the foam was probably soap…” Sam blinked deciding to ignore the i ndecipherable cage part, “and the sink, it… it wasn’t watching you… or spitting at you, the sink and stuff like that just have a little machine inside that makes them turn on whenever something blocks the light. It can’t actually see you.”

“Oh…” Jack looked equal parts relieved and disappointed, he shrugged again seemingly satisfied and went back to happily testing sauces.

“Soooo evil,” Sam muttered in Dean’s general direction making his brother roll his eyes and ignore him in favor of his burger.

Jack for his part seemed nonplussed continuing to experiment with his fries and nugget pulling various faces.

He paused after a moment looking genuinely confused, pushing a bright orange sauce in Sam's general direction and pointing carefully with one finger, “this one it makes my tongue feel…” he screwed up his brow, “stingy?”

Sam borrowed one of Jack’s fries to test it himself, “Buffalo sauce, it's spicy…” he explained gently.

“Spicy…” Jack tried the word in his mouth.

“Do you not like it?” Sam asked.

“I don’t…” Jack tilted his head slightly in thought making Sam’s chest feel heavy, reminding him for all the world of Cas.

“I don’t think I want to feel like anything else is attacking me today…” Jack said tapping a McNugget pensively against its box.

Sam smiled sadly, “I don’t blame you.”

"Do you like spicy things?" Jack asked him curiously.

"I guess, sometimes," Sam said offhandedly turning back to his own salad

Sam heard faint rustling and looked up to see Jack holding out the partially eaten sauce to him expectantly.

"Oh um… thank you," Sam took it sheepishly, not having the heart to tell the kid he had no use for it on his salad.

Jack smiled satisfied going back to his own food.

"Okay," Dean announced after a few more minutes balling up his trash, "we should probably get going…"

“We just..” Sam muttered through a mouth full of salad pausing halfway through to swallow, ( he didn’t want to be teaching Jack bad habits early ) “We just got here.”

“You’re almost done eating anyway, and he’s…”

Jack looked owlishly up from where he was casually dipping a single Mcnugget in every one of his sauces.

Dean blinked incredulously at Jack for a long moment, “anyway… we have a lot of ground to cover and we need to get moving. You remember what happened back at the police station, until we find some way to ward the kid or get back to the bunker sitting still is painting a big blinking target on our back.”

Sam sighed but knew his brother was right, “okay, fine but we can’t wait five more minutes...?”

Dean rubbed tiredly at his face, “Whatever, I’m going to the john before we leave, you can deal with... that.”

Dean got up from the table muttering something that looked suspiciously like, “two sinks?” under his breath.

Sam wished Dean would at least stop talking about Jack like an object to his face.

He turned towards the boy and did a double-take.

“Jack stop, don’t do that you’ll choke.”

Jack stopped trying to hurry by stuffing multiple McNuggets into his mouth at once looking like a sheepish chipmunk.

“I’m not going to take them away from you Jack,” Sam told him gently.

Jack chewed and swallowed before answering earnestly (making Sam feel like he’d made at least one positive foster parent decision and wasn’t completely failing Cas) “I know… but if Dean’s right, I don’t want anyone here to get hurt like at the police station…”

Sam wished he wasn’t so physically and emotionally exhausted so he could come up with a good way to convince the kid that what happened wasn’t his fault but for now he settled on just distracting Jack by asking him what was his favorite out of his sauce rainbow.

Jack’s eyes lit up and he launched into his explanation as he finished up his nuggets and shared his fries with Sam. Sweet and Sour, Honey Mustard, Barbeque, his favorites were all the sweetest sauces to no one’s shock. Still, with the literally and figuratively hellish 48 hours Sam had had, having Jack go on and on pleased with something simple was a nice distraction for the older man to.

Sam nodded along with a soft smile, Jack helping him clean up the table when they finished, continuing to chatter like he was determined to test every adjective he’d learned up to that point to describe his most recent culinary experience.

“And I don’t know what zesty means but that one tasted very confused,” Jack waved and gave the tired late-shift worker a cheerful, “goodbye,” as they made their way out to the Impala sitting on the back bumper to wait for Dean.

“Do you think there’s McDonald’s up in heaven where my mom is?” Jack asked Sam innocently still sipping his drink.

It hurt to hear the kid ask that, but Sam was thankful Jack had at least chosen the least painful recently deceased person to ask Sam about.

“I don’t know, heaven… it’s a place where people can relive their best memories, and I didn’t know your mother well enough to say,” Sam answered honestly.

Jack nodded solemnly but then gave Sam a cheerful smile, “I think if I was in heaven, there would definitely be a McDonald’s there, this place is wonderful.”

It was such a bizarrely bittersweet thing to say, but before Sam had a chance to respond the door to the McDonalds swung open with more force than necessary and Dean stepped out staring at Jack with a look of abject horror on his face.

“Please, please tell me you DID NOT wash your hands in the urinal!”

[mysticmelove]

I'd be delighted to read about them asking the rfa members to be their sperm donor if you'd be interested in writing it!! I wasnt sure if it was an uncomfortable subject or not haha, so that's why it wasn't a request. If it's a request now, I guess for them asking zen and/or 707? Those two seemed most likely to me haha

A donor

(Jaehee x MC)

.

“How about Jumin?”

MC’s humour went unnoticed, her girlfriend completely unamused by what she had said. Jaehee’s tone lingered, sour and unimpressed: “When I said ‘how about a member of the RFA’ I had meant to exclude him.”

“I know, I know,” she laughed once more, taking Jaehee’s hand in her own. “It was a joke... As serious as a decision this is, it’s important to joke every now and then; you tend to get too stressed otherwise.”

“Sorry...” she sighed, her face too apologetic, “This is just... well, it’s all new and I want everything to go well.” She looked to her partner’s eyes, greeted with a supportive smile, genuine and sweet.

They’d spoken of this for some time now; they’d both wanted children and, at this point in time, they couldn’t imagine not becoming mothers and introducing a child- or multiple- into their family. Adoption, of course, was always on the table for them but MC had always wanted to have her own children, not in a selfish way but she’d always imagined herself being pregnant at some point in her life, she wanted to experience what it would be like. Thus came the idea of finding a sperm donor, as suggested by Jaehee one evening. Initially they’d looked through various websites, searching for an ideal donor, however it felt slightly strange not completely knowing who the men were; after all they would make up part of their child’s genes.

“It’ll all go well, I promise,” she cupped her cheek gently. “If I have you then everything’s going perfectly, as it should.”

Jaehee place her hand over the one that held her, sighing once more: “I’m getting ahead of myself again, aren’t I?”

“No, you’re just nervous, as am I.” MC withdrew her hand, gazing out the window as she thought of other options. She imagined the RFA members wouldn’t hold too many reservations at the idea, they were some of the closest friends the two of them had after all. “What about Zen?” She spoke after a brief silence.

Jaehee took to her bottom lip, biting at it nervously. She wasn’t too sure of what she really wanted in this situation; she’d be great full for any of them to say they’d be happy to donate but she was unsure how to even bring it up, let alone ask if they would.

MC watched her fidget, assuring her it would be okay, “I’m sure he’d be very understanding, I doubt the idea would even bother him too much.”

“And if it does?”

“Then we try again,” she smiled, holding the porcelain hands before her reassuringly, “We’ve tried enough, what’s once more?”

Jaehee looked to their intertwined hands, smiling shyly, “You’re right...”

“Then I’ll ask him to come round and we can talk about it together.” She was greeted with a confident nod, followed by a short peck on the lips. A woman truly worth of being an amazing mother.

.

MC didn’t hesitate to arrange a meeting between them. Zen had a busy schedule but he was quick to make time for them, especially when she had described it as an ‘important meeting just between the three of them’- her tone pleasant and sweet as always but it had this underlying tone of utter seriousness.

He sat slightly anxious before the two of them, MC was welcoming as she placed a coffee down on the table before him, but Jaehee on the other hand seemed more reserved than usual. She was kind, of course, but she was toying with her promise ring relentlessly- something she’d often take to when she got nervous or anxious- a telltale sign she was uncomfortable. He laced his fingers around the mug and smiled regally, “Thank you for the coffee.”

“We’re sat in a café, it would be rude of me not to offer,” MC humoured, her girlfriend remaining quiet at her side and her eyes unmoving from her ring.

“It’s weird seeing the place empty,” his eyes scanned the open space before they landed back on the couple. “...So what did you want to talk about?”

“Oh.” MC placed a hand atop Jaehee’s, drawing the woman’s eyes and concentration to her all at once. “Well...” she began slowly, realising that Zen would have been the first other person outside of the two to even know they were considering children, “Jaehee and I... we were thinking about starting a family...”

Zen watched as Jaehee intertwined her fingers with MC’s, a small smile crossing her face. He returned the smile instantly, “That’s amazing news! Are you going to adopt?”

He was met with silence on her part, though Jaehee finally allowed herself to speak, “...MC wants to have her own children...”

“Ah,” Zen looked to the woman in question, her demeanour now mirroring that of her partner’s. He’d gotten the gist of things now, it explained why he was there and why they both seemed so nervous. “...Is that where I come in?”

MC appreciated his comment- pun or not- because it meant less work on her end, less awkward explaination. “Yes... quite literally in the sense,” she humoured, Zen joined in lightheartedly. Jaehee cleared her throat, not objecting to the humour but preferring to take a less comedic approach, MC got the message: “Oh. Anyway... we were hoping- if you didn’t mind of course- that you’d be our sperm donor?” Her pitch raised considerably as she came to the end of her sentence, her eyebrows raising along side.

Zen remained silent, almost deadpanned. Jaehee panicked at his reaction, drawing her hands under the table and playing with her ring relentlessly. She looked at him for one of the first times since they’d sat down, “Nevermind. Y- you can pretend this didn’t happen, Zen. Honestly, don’t bother yourself—”

“Of course,” he cut her off passionately: “Of course I’ll do it. You two really didn’t need to be so nervous.” He chuckled as he watched the two of them relax back in their chairs in unison. If he’d walked in knowing this was the direction this coversation was going to take he would have just stopped them both in their tracks and have said yes there and then. “I’d be more than happy to help you both.”

Jaehee’s smile was enough to brighten the whole room, “Thank you so much! I don’t think you know how much this means, to both of us.” She looked her partner in the eyes, her warmth never fading before she turned to continue talking to him, “And of course you’ll be godfather, if you’re comfortable with that.”

“I’d be fine just being the cool uncle,” he admitted joyfully.

“The cool uncle you shall be then,” MC grinned, now relaxed enough to enjoy her coffee without the sour taste of nerves in her mouth.

.

It wasn’t simple, nor had they imagined it to be. It was months of waiting and trying and then trying again and again until something was successful. Still, Zen stuck with them, being as patient as ever and just being there when they needed him there.

[captain-wereduck]

I got tagged by @captain-kiri-storm ! Thank you!

Name: Aleksandra. I both like it, because Lex Luthor (and Lexa sounds cool) and dislike it a lot, because eh, boring compared to so many cool Slavic names. Please, roll with my nickname! Thanks!

Nicknames: captain-wereduck here, yaodai is my go to nick on ao3, other writing platforms and online games

Height: 5ft4 and I had to Google it

Orientation: Ace aro

Nationality:  Polish

Favorite Fruits: uh… melons, raspberries, red currant. Generally I either go for mild or sour, I dislike very sweet fruits.

Favorite Season: That middle part for autumn that's finally not ridiculously hot but it's still kinda warm?

Favorite Flower: I really like my potted rosemary. Edible plants are best plants!

Favorite Scent: Lilac

Favorite Color: orange (and now the Naruto fandom laughs. But seriously, I like vivid colors, excluding yellow, yellow is weird)

Favorite Animal: Cats!

Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate: I love all 3, but my liver decided that tea is the only option :<

Average Hours of sleep: I'm trying to be a responsible adult, but I have insomnia episodes and I work during night shifts so it is pretty much whatever happens..?

Cat or dog person: Cats! I'm sorta afraid of dogs I don't know well.

Favorite fictional character: Orochimaru, Darth Maul, Xellos, Ryuji Suguro, Gajeel Redfox, Raistlin Majere, Miki Sayaka, Uzumaki Karin... My favorites are a weird mix of villains, antiheroes and broken idealists.

Number of blankets: Usually just one? On the other hand if you're asking about pillows...

Dream Trip: I honestly have no idea, I think it would be neat to see some place like Mongolia, but I would get hopelessly lost on my own.

Blog Created: uh...uhhhh…? I have no idea.

Followers: 111? Some of these are pornbots, but still, I wasn't expected the number to be so high ( forgot how to check the number of followers and was frantically clicking around)

Tagging: @sunsetofdoom , @awintersrose , @eyeloch

[hottmessexpresss]

Fever.

Back problems.

These mothafuckin'Kids.

Three days ago, my son woke up sick. He had this look* on his face. An unsettled look. He looked me dead in the eyes, and he started to gag. My eyes widened with horror. My instincts kicked in, and I did what my dad would do when I was growing up. The only sure way to know you have reached another level of parenting: held out my hands cupped together held under his chin. A vomit catch-all, if you will. Maybe it's a kid instict too. He knew* what it meant and what to do. He played and was fine throughout the day. Thank god.

The NEXT day, I developed a decent fever. I felt like my body was ran over by an 18 wheeler. "Greaaaaaaaaaaat!" I thought to myself. I laid on the couch half dead in a pool of my own sweat staring at the clock. Is 7:00 too early for bedtime? My daughter ended up puking ONCE that evening, so i figured it was a 24 hour tummy bug. No other symptoms. No more vomit. Both kids seemed fine. I prayed that I would not fall ill, and that I**wouldn't be sick. Could you imagine? Being sick AND being the mom? Being the house chore manager? Being the post-op surgery home nurse? What the hell would that* be like? Well, my dad has always told me, God must have a sense of humor based on my life being like an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm....and it was a god awful sense of humor, if that.

Yesterday, I was swiffer wet jetting a pool of urine on the floor. I shook my head, did my usual lecture on how only an animal would pee on the floor. How grayson wasn't an animal, and how pee goes INSIDE of the toilet. Not inside his construction cement truck (boys🙄😬). I bent over, and my life flashed before my eyes. BAM. I almost collapsed to the floor. I was sweating and writhing in pain. I couldn't muster up ENOUGH inertia to walk my body forward. My knees started to buckle, and immediate panic set in. Of all times for this to happen, with my luck-- it did (cue Curb Your Enthusiasm theme song). I am damn near 30 years old, and a Swiffer wet jet mop, along with a slight twist and bend movement, put me to the fuckin' floor. Meanwhile, J-Lo who is in her 50's is pole dancing and dancing at a top performance rate for a Superbowl half-time show. And again, here I am, in the same clothes as yesterday, my body getting over a fever, AND NOW pulled my back out of place. I was angry and upset that I have disabled myself.

Of course, Grayson and the baby caught wind of my sudden lack of movement and chaos ensued. Both hanging on my feet, whining and crying and fighting each other to be held. Every second ticked by slowly, as I completely winced and cursed in pain. I huddle by the cat tree. I try to stand and lean onto it and realized..I needed help. But who could help? How?

My husband was at work. Barely 2 weeks post-op from his shoulder replacement. I broke down in tears. My husband has just now been able to shower by himself. He's still in a sling and has very limited movement. What the hell am I going to do? With different parts of our bodies being out of commission, how* could we do this? I reluctantly called him. In tears, I waited 45 minutes before he got to the house. Before he arrived, with a little help from my Grayson, I was able to dress the baby. Grayson picked his clothes out, and got ready all by himself (I was shook). I waddle slowly to my bedroom and grab some socks and my Nike's. Grayson hauled ass into my room like always (because there isba child lock and it's forbidden) kneeled down and helped me put on my socks and shoes. I told him my back was hurting and he told me, "Don't worry mom. I'll fix it!" He lifted my shirt gently, and started to scratch my lower back. The tears were welling up. He got the baby clothes from her drawer (after one attempt), and sang "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" to her as I changed her. I was overwhelmed with many emotions. I was in that moment, proud of Will and I's parenting and how my sweet and sour child, was being sweet and helpful to me.

Will arrives. He's stressed. I'm stressed. I keep apologizing over and over to him. I shove fruit snacks in my jacket. Will raises his voice at me to stop trying to put Grayson into his car seat. We are both frustrated. We are both not feeling it. I get to urgent care and wait for the doctor. He comes in after 10 minutes and says, "Oh? Are you striking a pose for a photo?" My hip is out and I'm leaning against the wall. I laughed. I explained what happened. He felt my hips and lower back. "Oh. Wow......you have HUGE knots all over the place...no wonder!" I held back tears. Then. This man turns to me and has THEE AUDACITY TO ASK ME** "Do you need a doctor's note for work?" I cracked a smile, but also wanted to strangle him right then and there. I explained my husband is two weeks post-op from shoulder replacement surgery, and that I have a 10 month old and a 3 year old at home, and all three are waiting in the car for me. He smiled and said, "I'd reccomend taking it easy, but that's not realistic is it?" He gave me a toradol shot, steroids for the inflammed muscles, muscle relaxers and T3. My anxiety sky-rocketed. I knew how Toradol made me tired. I knew how muscle relaxers obviously*** relax your muscles. T3 makes me groggy. How the fuck am I supposed to function on these AND take care of the kids?

So long gone are the days of being injured or sick and being able to sleep or "relax". So long gone are the days when no one else depended on you to be a fully functional adult during times of illness or injury.

My husband told me to go nap and relax my back. Though I was irriated by having to listen, and fight back the internal urge to pick up the toys on the ground, I obliged. Thinking back to a few months ago, my husband's sciatic caused him to be down and out from work for three days. I sat up in bed thinking of this. No offense to my husband; he works extremely hard and allows me the luxury of staying home with the kids. However, in this moment, I realized I wasn't able to experience the same "luxury" of taking three days off. Being a stay at home mom means, no days off. When youre sick, the world doesn't stop. Your toddlers certainly don't stop. So you, as the mom and house-manager, trudge through it. Because there is no other option or reason. Some are lucky to have family nearby that can cushion some of this blow. But unfortunately, that's not the case here. Instead, I facetimed my mom and cried to her, asking her to tell Grayson to be good for me. It worked (for a while).

I hate sometimes that these types of "problems" often come across as "complaining," but to me, just shows that a Mother's job never ends. We don't get to clock in, and clock out. We don't get paid lunch breaks. Often times I eat standing up, and pee with a rather curious audience (like when Grayson handed me toilet paper and told me to wipe my gina and did a horrendous digging motion with his hands). I don't get uninterrupted breaks. I don't physically see a paycheck deposited into my account.

This morning I woke up and before I got out of bed, I said a little prayer about being able to walk today. Thankfully, I can walk (at least). I made coffee, and waited for the monsters to wake up. I cooked them eggs and toast. I bribed grayson with a fruit snack to help get his sisters walker, and I slowly slowly lifted her in it. Getting her in and out of the crib has been a challenge. Babies want to be held and carried, and do not understand why* their mother isn't picking them up (torture).

I am realizing women are strong. Though I physically feel decrepid, I am appreciative of what women endure on a daily basis. Whether you work or stay home, being a mother is a 24/7 job that often goes without praise or recognition. Instead of binge watching Mad Men, or The Office (for the 56th time) posted up chillin' on meds, I am watching Paw Patrol while my kids nag and cry at my feet. "You should be THANKFUL. YOU HAVE THE BEST JOB IN THE ENTIRE WORLD....and an IMPORTANT ONE IF THAT." Well, Karen. Yes. Yes I do. I am "blessed" and "cursed" by this experience. I am** thankful. However, I am a human being. I am allowed to scowl and huff to myself, "this isn't fair!" While wanting to break down into tears. How dare I feel so selfish?

I am allowed to have bad days. Being a mom doesn't mean I am some bionic robot (though some days it definitely feels like it)

So here I am standing, slouched over the counter trying to rub a tennis ball into my lower back while my toddler screams, "THAT'S MY BAAAAAALLLLLLL MOM." All while my daughter also starts to scream (because her brother is screaming) I can't do anything but count to 10.

"Being a mom means having to choose between eating, showering, or sleeping. You can't do all three in one day" -unknown

Hug a mom, grandma or aunt today [or anyone that has raised you] and give yourself a pat on the back for being a bad ass super mom.