#one day he looks at a crock pot recipe

[recluserat]

I like to imagine Hannibal sitting at his fancy desk reading through online recipe blogs and getting irritated at the long stories they always post before the actual recipe

[aurumacadicus]

Tony strikes me as the kind of person who, upon hearing neighbors fighting, would open the window and listen.

So what I’m saying is Tony moves into a nice brownstone, keeps to himself, notices his neighbors seem very close but is too awkward to insert himself into the conversations to make friends (normally people come up to him, so he has no idea how to really... start conversations). He’ll wave and they’ll wave back, and someone left cookies on his doorstep after he moved in, but mostly, he keeps to himself and they keep to themselves.

Then one day the couple across the street starts arguing while Tony goes to get the mail. He hovers by his mailbox, keeping his ears open. It sounds like the wife is angry about school but her tipping point is her husband not putting his laundry in the hamper. Tony looks through his mail but doesn’t actually read any of it because now the husband is complaining about crock pot meals every night.

“What are you doing?” someone asks flatly, and Tony jumps, turning to find one of his scarier neighbors frowning at him, arms crossed over her chest. The blond guy next to her has a dog on a leash. The dog only has three legs and one eyeball.

“...I’m nosy,” Tony says after a moment, lifting his head to blink at her.

“Great, trade places with me so I can face my good ear at their house,” the blond guy says, and Tony obediently swivels, stunned.

“Did he say anything about the crock pot?” the lady asks seriously. “I hope she breaks it over that asshole’s head.”

And it turns out Tony’s nextdoor neighbors are just as nosy as he is. They’re Natasha and Clint. The dog’s name is Lucky. Sometimes Clint takes Lucky on walks just to hear what’s going on around the neighborhood. It’s great.

The couple divorces and put their house on the market. The ex-wife gives Tony her crock pot and all her recipes for it as thanks for putting her in touch with a good lawyer and Tony has no idea what her ex-husband is complaining about because everything is delicious. A couple of Clint and Natasha’s friends snap the house up.

They argue a lot.

“You know, it’s really obvious that you’re being nosy when you just grab a cup of coffee and open your window,” Natasha says, frowning at him judgmentally.

“If they cared they’d shut up and go back inside,” Tony replies, nonplussed, and hands her another cup of coffee.

Then one day he gets more than he bargained for when one of the guys shouts, “YOU CAN ASK HIM OUT AFTER I ASK HIM OUT THEN YOU FUCKIN’ ASSHOLE,” and starts charging across the street. The only reason he doesn’t leap directly through Tony’s open window and into his house is because the other guy tackles him at the sidewalk.

Clint comes out of his house, walks over to Tony’s, and comes inside so he can close and lock the window. “Play hard to get. They’re annoying when they’re smug,” is all he says, and then he leaves again.

Tony blinks, stunned, and takes a loud sip of his coffee.

[mostfacinorous]

My boyfriend's bar is doing Fallout Specials this month, and one of the drink specials is Nuka Cola, complete with cute little bottles and collectible bottle caps. Part of the recipe for the Nuka Cola special is mulled wine, and they've been going through so much, he's been coming home from his 12 hour shifts with six bottles of red wine, two bottles of whiskey, and two crock pots to make it in before bed every night. So the bar closes at midnight or 2 on the weekends, he gets home, we cut up oranges and count out cloves and start the wine mulling on low, set an alarm for three hours, go to bed, get up three hours later to turn it off and strain out the fruit and package it up for taking into the bar the next day. We're on week two of this, my sleep schedule is in shambles, and about half an hour ago I had to take out two large boxes of empty wine and whiskey bottles. The recycling bins are across my building's courtyard (the building takes up a full city block) and down a floor.

Naturally, this means I just had to walk past the pool with a bunch of noisy empty bottles. Twice. While looking like an absolute zombie because of the whole not sleeping well thing. Anyway the management company just sent out a (I hope) building wide email about local resources for alcoholics. How's your Sunday going?

[idrils]

any more recipes you would recommend? i'm trying to expand my cooking skills for this years resolution!

i can't TELL you how thrilled i was to get this message!!

for Videos and Techniques i really recommend bryan lagerstrom on youtube! he does a great job of explaining WHY he does things the way he does. he's a Chef chef, so some of his recipes are pretty extra, but he always offers less labor/time intensive or less costly alternatives

as far as specific recipes, they're under the cut!

this sheet pan guy is one of my favs!

fwiw my wife and i have replaced the sweet potatoes with just making rice in the rice cooker. it's easy and filling and VERY delicious

and while i'm on the kielbasa train, this is a similar form factor but very different flavoures. even better if you roast some broccoli and/or cauliflower and throw it over rice with a slice or two of garlic bread, ultimate comfort food

(and for roasting vegetables - you really can't go wrong with cutting things into bite size pieces, and roasting at 400-425 for 20 minutes, stirring once at the 10 minute mark)

this one has been a classic in my house for a long time. easy, no fuss no muss, easy to customize your level of sweetness. i usually serve it with corn and mashed potatoes or sweet potatoes!

on the other hand if you're looking for dessert recipes, here are some of my mainstays -

in general, i trust recipes from half baked harvest, gimme some oven, and damn delicious!

all that said.

my wife does most of the cooking in our house, and she's an AMAZING cook. the recipes i have to offer are much simpler lmao. if you have more specific questions or you're up for a more adventurous level of recipe, hit her up @gibsonwitch !!

[thessalian]

Thess vs Victim-Blaming

So there’s this jackass Tory MP Lee Anderson. His constituency’s food bank oblige people to sign up for cooking and budgeting courses before they’re allowed to pick up food parcels. Because, he says, “There’s no massive need for food banks in this country; it’s just that nobody knows how to cook anymore! You can cook a meal from scratch for 30 pence!” He says a day; I think he means per person.

Either way...

Once I got past the rage, I did actually have some rebuttals for all of that. Which I tend to fire at the people who agree with him in my hearing / reading.

For meat, we’re talking about off-cuts. Those tend to take rather longer to cook than the average, because they tend to be tough. Now, in a household where the kids are too little for that kind of cooking and the parents have been at work (at one of possibly several jobs) ... who the hell has the time? Come to that, who the hell has the energy? When people are working too hard for too little already, they’re not going to be able to put off bedtime - especially not for their kids - to cook a meal.

Of course, people might talk about just putting it into a slow-cooker, and that brings us to another issue: equipment. A lot of cooking from scratch requires things like roasting pans, baking dishes, crock-pots. Now, you can get those things cheap, but they’ll fall apart faster for being cheap, and need to be replaced a lot more often, at more expense. That’s if they can manage the outlay in the first place. And honestly, even if they can afford these things, where the fuck are they going to find the space? I live in a pretty decently-sized flat and my kitchen is the approximate size of a postage stamp, and I have issues trying to find space for everything I have, never mind what I need for easier, cheaper meals. Anyone in a less comparatively luxurious living space is going to have a lot more problems with that.

This 30p figure probably comes with the concept of buying in bulk and a lot of division. So let’s talk about buying in bulk. First, it requires you having the cash to make the initial investment in it. Yeah, that huge bag of rice will make a lot of meals, but can you afford the initial outlay on that huge bag of rice? If you’re relying on a food bank right now, probably not. Then there’s perishables, which you can’t buy in bulk unless you have a decently-sized freezer. Do not underestimate the number of people in this country who have a refrigerator the approximate size of a mini-fridge with a freezer with the storage capacity of a toaster oven. There’s also getting it all home, which is difficult if you do not have a car, which a lot of people don’t. And honestly, even if they do, with the price of petrol lately, anything they save on that kind of shopping will just be blown in petrol fees.

And finally, let’s talk about the amount of energy - electricity or gas - that it takes to cook these meals from scratch. Energy prices have more than doubled lately. No hyperbole. People are asking food banks not to give them carrots or potatoes not because they don’t know how to cook them, but because they can’t afford to cook them with energy prices this high. We’re talking about a situation where old ladies are riding the bus all day because they can’t afford to heat their homes; the energy consumption of an electric kettle feels like too much for people, never mind cooking tough off-cuts of meat, or lentils.

These are the things that no one’s talking about anywhere near enough. They talk about compassion and everything, and that’s fine as far as it goes. Thing is, the logical fallacy of the situation shouldn’t be ignored either. People can look up a recipe on Google (hell, I can cook and I turn to the internet for recipes quite often), but that doesn’t solve all of the rest of the above. I’m tired of the victim-blaming. People shouldn’t need to prove that they can cook / budget before being permitted a food bank parcel. They shouldn’t be obliged to ‘show willing’ by taking a class, either. A lot of those people already have jobs and cutting into what little free time they have while some teacher tells them to do things they have literally no time or money to do because the initial outlay of both is too high for any of this to be viable ... it just feels cruel. So that’s where the compassion comes in, yes. Still, pure logic says this is stupid. If people can’t afford the initial outlay for ingredients and cookware, or the petrol / delivery fees to get bulk food home, or the very energy required to cook it both in terms of gas / electric and of personal spoons reserves, then all of the cooking and budgeting courses in the world won’t help.

Lee Anderson spends thousands on staff per month, by the way. I’d bet a cook is in there somewhere. Not to mention that the Houses of Parliament have subsidised meals. So the politicians on six-figure salaries have their gourmet meals heavily subsidised and they grudge people who are barely making ends meet with multiple jobs a food parcel unless they at least appear to accept the blame for their plight instead of blaming the people whose economic policies and Brexit have put us in this mess in the first fucking place.

They’re still looking for ways to “ease the cost of living challenge” (yeah, they insist it’s a challenge, not a crisis) ... but they’re still trying to find ones that don’t cost them or any of their wealthy donors money. The best they’ve come up with so far is to make a lot of civil servants redundant because “Covid is over and Brexit is done so we don’t need them”. Except those first two points aren’t true. Covid is not over - we just don’t see the numbers anymore because testing is no longer free, and the news outlets are more fired up about Ukraine and the Northern Ireland Protocol debacle. Brexit is not over - we still haven’t set up our own checks on EU goods because we haven’t got around to the infrastructure needed for doing so, and now the “oven-ready deal” that Johnson and Frost were so gung-ho over back in the day is being called a “travesty” that “the EU forced us into” and now those involved are saying, “We’re going to do what we want and break our international agreements and if the EU starts a trade war, it’s their fault for not letting us do whatever we want with no consequences!” (No, seriously, they keep saying that the EU would be “silly” to “shoot themselves in the foot” by imposing sanctions or cutting trade entirely with the UK, when we’re the ones who’d actually suffer. Our government is only world-beating in its gaslighting.)

So, yeah, they want to make more people unemployed in the middle of this mess. Because the Tories Be Like That. And we’d never see the money we supposedly saved by no longer paying those civil servants anyway. They’re taking cues on making their finances look good from the video game industry, this government.

...HEEEEEEEEEEELP.

[alwaysachorusgirl]

Adoption Day

Pairing: Frederick Chilton x Female Reader

Word Count: 2089

For: Covers the Animal Shelter square for @adarafaelbarba 's fall moodboard bingo

TW: very brief mention of past childhood abuse and animal abandonment, but other than that, it's mostly fluff

Dedication: This is for the world's best cat mom, @madamsnape921 ,because it's her birthday! Go send her some birthday love today!

Author's Note: Jumping back a little in the Cat Daddy Frederick timeline to cover Buttercup's adoption story. Per my previously established continuity, this would take place in January, right after New Year's, and prior to "Not According to Plan"

Tags: @itsjustmyfantasyroom @prurientpuddlejumper @thatesqcrush @welcometothemxdhouse @raulesparza4eva @teamsladsandgents @rosequcrtz

The winter wind howled outside the window and snow drifted across the windowpanes, but inside Frederick Chilton’s ornate home you were safe and warm. No, our home, I live here now, you thought to yourself. You were still getting used to thinking of it as your home, too. You were unpacking the last of the boxes from your recent move. A fire was roaring in the living room fireplace, giving the room a cozy, comforting glow. You inhaled the aroma of the hearty vegetable stew that was cooking in the crockpot in the kitchen, and your stomach growled. You were going to need to take a dinner break soon, and as if he was reading your mind, Frederick entered the room and came over to where you were placing your books on the expansive built-in shelves.

“How goes it with the books? Do you need more shelf space? I can always move somethings into my office if you need more.”

“Thank you, Frederick, but don’t worry; I think I have more than enough. I am, however, getting rather hungry. I think it’s time we ate dinner, don’t you?

“I couldn’t agree more, my love, shall I set the table?” he asked, taking your hand, and helping you to your feet.

“Thank you, Frederick, that would be lovely.”

*****************

“This stew is fantastic, my love! We’ll most certainly have to use this recipe again.”

When you didn’t respond right away, Frederick started to worry and reached for your hand. “Darling?”

“Oh! Sorry! I zoned out for a moment, must be more tired than I thought; Thank you, Frederick, I have a whole slew of crock pot recipes that are perfect for cold winter days.”

“Y/N, are you alright? Have I done something wrong? Is it the house? Is there something you’re not happy with?”

“What? Oh, Frederick, no!” You squeezed his reassuringly. “You haven’t done anything wrong, my love, and the house is perfectly fine. It’s just…” you paused, not sure how to broach your thoughts.

“What is it? Whatever you need, I’ll make sure you have it! Cost is no object!”

You took a breath and tried to collect your thoughts. You loved cats, but your previous apartment had not allowed pets. You had promised yourself that when you eventually moved you would be a cat mom again. It had been far too long. But it was something that you and Frederick hadn’t discussed yet, and you had no idea what his feelings were on the subject.

“What did you think about getting a cat?” You blurted out, bracing yourself for what you were sure was going to be an argument.

It was now Frederick’s turn to go silent, taken aback by your unexpected query. He mulled it over in his head before answering.

“Honestly, my love, I’ve never thought about it before. I never had a pet of any kind growing up. My parents did not allow animals in the house.”

“Oh, Frederick, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” In theory, you knew you probably should have guessed that. You knew that Frederick’s father had been a hard, cruel man, and had been abusive toward Frederick and his mother. Frederick’s mother had been so worn down by it that she eventually shutdown, mentally and emotionally, and neglected to protect her son when he needed it the most. Of course, they hadn’t allowed pets, they hadn’t even allowed their son to have a normal childhood, or an ounce of happiness.

“My darling, you have nothing to apologize for,” said Frederick, placing soft kisses on the back of your hand. “If it’s a cat you want, then a cat you shall have. I’ll do some research after we finish here. Cats need supplies, right? Food, litter, toys, those fancy cat trees, cute little sweaters?”

****************

After dinner you and Frederick sat side-by-side on the couch with your laptops, him researching what kind of supplies you going to need to buy, and you were looking at your local SPCA’s website.

“Good god, I had no idea how many different types of cat litter there were!”

“Oh, Frederick, if you think that’s bad, wait until you see how competitive the cat food market is. Hmm…that’s interesting…”

“What is it?” asked Frederick, looking over at your laptop.

“This listing here,” you said, pointing at a blank gray box. “There should be a picture here, like there is for the other listings, but it’s blank. It says it’s supposed to be a 2-month-old black female…. hang on; I have an idea.”

You grabbed your phone off the coffee table and scrolled through your contacts until you found the name you were looking for. You hit “Call” and waited.

“Hello?” A voice finally picked up on the other end.

“Joanne! Hi! It’s Y/N. How are you?”

“I’m great, how are you? It’s been ages since the last time we hung out.”

“I’m good, and you’re right; it has been too long. Is this a good time to talk?”

“Sure! What’s up?”

“Do you still work for the county SPCA?”

“Oh, you bet I do! Oh my god, are you finally in the market to adopt?”

“Yes, I am, and I have a question about one of the cat listings on the website. The one that’s missing a picture?”

“Yes, I just noticed that a few hours ago. Our website person put that up prematurely. The kitten was just spayed, and normally we wait until the animal has had adequate recovery time before we add them to the site, but accidents happen. Last I checked, the little one is recovering nicely and should be ready to interact a couple days. She’s the sweetest thing. Someone dumped her in a cardboard box at our front door. She had a leg injury, but that’s also healing up. She loves to play, loves to cuddle, and I’ll think she’ll thrive in a good home. Would you like to make an appointment to see her?”

“Yes, I would! What time slots do you have available?”

*******************

A few days later, you and Frederick walked arm in arm into the county SPCA. Frederick had rush-ordered all the supplies you thought you’d need and then some. You both excited and nervous. You’d already taken a huge step by moving in together, and now you were adopting a pet. You looked over at Frederick and noticed the uncertainty in his eyes. He also seemed leaning on his cane for support. He always seemed to do that when he was unsure about something. You gave his arm a gentle squeeze and kissed his cheek.

“It’s going to be okay, Frederick, you’re to be a wonderful cat dad. I believe in you.”

Frederick blushed and placed a soft kiss on your temple.

“Thank you, my love, I appreciate your faith in me, even though I’m still not sure what’s done to deserve it, or you.”

Before you could respond to that, Joanne came out her office and rushed toward you.

“Y/N! It’s so good to see you!”

“It’s good to see you, too, Joanne.” You enveloped her in a big hug and then motioned to Frederick. “Joanne, this is Dr. Frederick Chilton, my Frederick.”

Frederick gave you the most loving of looks, and nearly melted into a puddle at your feet at sound of you referring to him as “your Frederick.”

“Nice to meet you, Dr. Chilton,” said Joanne, extending her hand.

“And you,” he replied, shaking hands.

“Well, I suppose you want to meet the little one; right this way!”

You and Frederick followed Joanne to cat section of the shelter. You walked past several cats, each one trying to get your attention from their enclosures. If you had your way, you’d take them all home, but you didn’t think Frederick was quite ready for that yet; but maybe one day…

“Here she is, “announced Joanne, stopping in front of one of the enclosures. A tiny black, fluffy kitten was inside, and her eyes lit up when she saw you. She was immediately on her feet, and you noticed she still had a slight limp in her injured leg, but she was full of energy and mewing incessantly. Joanne opened the door and carefully lifted her out. You reached out to take her, but the impatient kitten leapt out of Joanne’s hands and into your waiting arms.

“Oh! Hello! Hi baby, hi sweetheart,” you cooed.

“Mew, mew, mew!”

You looked into her eyes, and it was love at first sight. You did your best to hold onto her, shifting and adjusting your arms to accommodate her constant movement and attempts to climb up your shoulder. You gave her a little scratch between her ears and kissed her head. She was perfect.

“Mew! Mew!”

“Yes, baby, it’s okay, I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

Frederick stood there watching you with the kitten, completely dumbstruck. Just when he thought he couldn’t fall anymore in love with you, you had to go and surprise him. You were a natural cat mom, cradling the tiny ball of fluff and talking to her like she was a human. He saw the kitten rub her nose against your chin and looked like she was giving you kisses. He also saw the look of pure love and joy on your face, and he lived for that, wanted to see that every day. He didn’t know anything about raising a cat, but for you, he would try.

**************

Joanne led you to a visitor’s room so that you and Frederick could spend some quality time getting to know the kitten. Frederick removed his coat and offered to take the kitten so that you could take off yours. You demonstrated how to hold the kitten and then handed her to Frederick. He held her close to chest and sat down.

“Mew?” the kitten looked up at him, confused as to who this new person was.

“It’s alright, little one, I’ve got you,” he tried to reassure her. A lock of his normally perfectly quaffed hair suddenly flopped in his face, and the kitten’s eyes grew wide.

“Mew?” she raised a paw and tentatively batted at Frederick’s hair. “Mew…”

“Oh, that’s adorable,” you said, plopping down next to them on a bean bag chair. You saw the smile on his face and nudged him with your elbow. “See? She likes you. And I think she wants to play.” You looked around the room and saw the toy boxes, filled with various dog and cat toys, but then something else caught your eye. “Frederick?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Hand her back to me and take off your scarf, please.”

He did as he was told. You carefully placed the kitten on the carpet and proceeded to dangle the scarf in front if her. Her eyes went wide again, and then she crouched, wiggled her backside, and pounced. Her little paws batted at the scarf, then she would roll around kick at it with her hind legs.

“It certainly looks like she’s enjoying herself,” Frederick chuckled. “So, what are we going to call her?”

“I was thinking ‘Buttercup”,” you said matter-of-factly.

“I am not the least bit surprised,” he replied, immediately picking up on your reference. He looked at the kitten. “Well, what do you think about that little one?”

“Mew?”

“Your name,” you told her, “Buttercup, do you like it?”

“Mew, mew.” She forgot about the scarf and crawled into your lap, kneading you with her paws.

“I think she likes it.” You threw Frederick a smile.

“Yes, I quite think she does. I have an idea, how about a story? Would you like that Buttercup?”

“Mew.” She replied with a yawn,

“Darling, if you check your bag, I believe you’ll find a book there.”

You checked your purse, and sure enough, in the largest section was a children’s book, one that you instantly recognized from your own childhood.

“If You Give A Mouse A Cookie?”

“It came highly recommended by the lady at the bookstore.”

“It’s perfect, Frederick.” You handed him the book and leaned your head against his knee. As he began to read, Buttercup curled up in your lap and shut her eyes, she was soon fast asleep, purring away. When he finished reading, Frederick caressed your cheek with hand to get your attention.

“So, shall we go find Joanne and make it official?”

“Yes,” you replied, gazing down at Buttercup, “If we don’t take her home today, I think I’ll cry.”

“Then let’s go fill out the paperwork and bring her home.”

[nancypullen]

Tick Tock

I’m about 24 hours away from what is hopefully my last appointment concerning that stupid kidney stone.  Tomorrow they’ll take out the stent and then we shall never speak of this again.  The removal has to be done at the surgery center even though it’s not surgery, and the whole thing should take just a couple of minutes.  Since I birthed a doctor, I feel free to ask him about the unknowns and this is what he told me when I asked if it really was that quick - “Oh yeah, they’ll yank that thing out like they’re starting a lawn mower.”  Imagine how comforted I was by that.  At this point, I don’t care - just get it out. But enough about all that gross stuff, how are you?  Are you excited to see the December calendar page? Are you loving seeing the Christmas lights and hearing the holiday music?  I AM!  Tonight is Denton’s Christmas parade, and tomorrow night is the Christkindlmarket. What a great way to start the month!  This time tomorrow I’ll be a lot more comfortable and I’m going to be a wrapping, decorating, Christmas tune singing fool.  

But for today, I’ve got some laundry chugging and dinner is in the crock pot.  For Mickey it’s Mongolian Beef, for me dinner will probably be soup.  I made a big pot of chicken soup on Monday and it hits the spot every time.  I don’t know the science behind it, but my tastes have changed drastically over the last month.  We normally eat pretty clean and healthy, I’d say 85% of the time anyway, but now I don’t even crave the other 15%.  I haven’t had a Diet Coke since Halloween and it doesn’t even sound good to me.  I’ve been addicted to Diet Coke since 1984!  Chocolate? Haven’t touched it.  Crunchy, salty stuff - not even popcorn appeals to me and I rarely went a night without a bowl of popcorn.  You know those people that get hit in the head and wake up speaking Swedish or something crazy like that?  This is my version of that.  All I want is fruit and veggies. My lunch today will be red grapes, cucumbers, and maybe a little yogurt.  If I’m really hungry a cup of soup.  Dinner is the same, or I zap a Healthy Choice frozen meal. There’s a Chicken Marinara that I like.  You’d think that thirty days of eating like this would have caused a change in my appearance.  Nope.  I’ve lost a grand total of four pounds.  I swear, scientists should study me.  Anyone else would have wasted away, my sturdy Scots and German DNA is holding steady.  I can identify with this meme.

I guess I’m built for survival.  Ya’ know what? I’m okay with that.  2023 is the year that I stop worrying about it.  I’m going to enjoy good health, a good life, and my wonderful family and dear friends.  I’m going to put my energy into creating art and being happy. You can do all of those things whether your pants are a size 6 or 16.  It. Just. Doesn’t. Matter.   The majority of magazine articles and television commercials are aimed at women and the overwhelming message is that we are not good enough exactly as we are.  They’re counting on us believing that and throwing all of our money at whatever product promises to improve us.  We’re not allowed to wrinkle, sag, gain weight, or ever dare to look our age. I’ve yet to see any ads targeting men with that message.  Sure, you see some stuff for bald guys, but everything else is for erectile dysfunction.  No one is shaming men for their crow’s feet.   For us, it starts before middle school and follows us to the grave - we’re not pretty enough, thin enough, fill-in-the-blank enough.  I’m calling BS on all of that.  Younger women, thankfully,  figured this out before my generation did. They’re out there loving themselves and living their best lives exactly as they are.  Bravo, ladies!  I’m learning so much from you.  I’ve decided to like myself.  Well, that went off the rails, didn’t it?  I didn’t share even half of what I was thinking once I got on my soapbox. You’re welcome.  I actually intended to come here and post my chicken soup recipe (it really is good).  I’ll have to share that tomorrow.  I’m going to have a little lunch and then sit at my desk and create something pretty.  The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and tomorrow I’ll take my pants off in front of strangers for what I hope is the last time for a very long time.  I may have to enter the Witness Protection Program after this.  Sending out loads of love on this first day of December.  I hope that  your hearts are light and your homes are peaceful. Stay safe, stay well.

Nancy 

[benjiwyatt]

do you have any ben/leslie headcanons! i love your posts abt them so much it's great to see someone get as emotional abt them as i am asjdkajhjd

i got this message and i was like "god, i dont really know if i have any headcanons" and then i opened my notes app and started typing and didn't stop for over an hour

i'm literally putting this under a break and organizing it into categories bc it's absurdly long

here it is

A COLLECTION OF BEN AND LESLIE HEADCANONS

PRE-RELATIONSHIP/S3

basically canon but leslie definitely had a crush on a young benji wyatt and followed the story religiously for the first couple months before she started college

ben is only slightly jealous leslie had ann go out with chris to try and get more money for the parks budget rather than leslie asking him out with the same goal. he knows it’s insane, unethical, and illogical but he’s still excited that he gets to spend the night with her on a date plus two other people even if it is to accuse her of bribery.

ann realizes early on that leslie was attracted to ben and teases her mercilessly about it. she thinks it’s absolutely hilarious that leslie wants to make out with "mean ben.” after april and andy’s wedding, she realizes it's more than just attraction and she lays off.

before ben can even think rationally about what he’s doing, he’s in line at bed, bath, and beyond with a crock pot in his arms, calling stephanie to ask her to send him their family’s chicken soup recipe

ann knew ben liked her from the beginning and was totally positive when she ran into him in the hospital asking for leslie’s room number while holding jj’s waffles and a tub of homemade soup.

ben realizes he’s falling in love with leslie when he is at city hall with her until 3am one night trying to budget for the amount of cotton candy machines she wants for the harvest festival. in his exhaustion, he naively believes her when she tells him she’ll go home in a bit so he leaves. he never gets a text from saying she made it home so he stops at jj’s the next morning and brings a takeout container of waffles and a coffee complete with an outlandish amount of whipped cream and sugar to the parks department. he finds her asleep in the conference room. he starts trying to convince sweetums to donate more cotton candy machines that afternoon.

chris had to have known ben liked leslie. he’s not an idiot. in the deleted scene from their wedding, they read out emails from their “tumultuous first week in pawnee” and chris writes to ben saying, “why are you so focused on leslie knope?” ben replies saying, “i’m not. whatever. shut up.” there’s no way chris is this oblivious. ben takes her out for a beer. ben pays out of pocket for a children’s performer to help her out. ben shows up on chris and ann’s date just because he thinks leslie might be there. chris can’t be this dumb. but when they take the city manager jobs in pawnee, he knows it can’t happen so he cuts ben off when he starts to ask about dating someone in city hall. he cracks down on the rule in front of leslie after the tom incident to hammer it in. he starts setting ben up on a bunch of dates to try and head it off. he sends them to indianapolis for the little league pitch because, realistically, he knows they’re the best bet for success but makes sure to interrupt their dinner and invites them to his apartment to continue to run interference the rest of the night. after their fights in 4.06-4.08, he hopes he won’t have to worry anymore. the next work day, they come into his office looking nervous and happy and he knows he’s about to lose the partner and best friend that’s been by his side for the past decade.

april and andy knew they were secretly dating. it went unspoken aside from a few implicit teasing remarks from april and a few suggestive attempted high fives from andy but leslie assured ben they wouldn’t tell anyone despite their ostensible behavior.

BREAK UP

ben had commissioned the li’l sebastian plush for leslie after he had died but the toy shop didn’t finish it until after they broke up. he felt bad not going to pick it up so he did despite not being able to give it to her. he kept it for all those months and sometimes thought about getting rid of it but could never bring himself to do it.

when leslie made personalized copies her books for her friends with individualized annotations and notes in the bylines, she had two copies for ben. there was one that she gave him during their breakup that was very simplified and watered down where the note basically just said “i’m really glad you decided to stay in pawnee.” then there was a second copy that she kept while they were split up that was totally covered in notes and random thoughts she couldn’t say during their time apart. she gives him that copy when they get back together and it may or may not be the best gift he’s ever received.

april was much less abrasive with them during the break up because she’s a sweetheart and wants her friends to be happy.

the first time leslie admitted she was in love with him was during a long night of drinking and crying at ann’s house

ben craved the taste of sugar during their breakup because he got used to tasting the sweetness when he kissed her

ben found himself unable to sleep at night without the sound of leslie talking in her sleep to comfort him

april texted leslie the night of the halloween party to let her know that ben and andy were at the hospital after a fight and everything was fine and she didn’t need to worry. leslie was mad at andy for a few days after and he couldn’t figure out why.

the only photo in ben’s bedroom was of himself, leslie, and li’l sebastian at the harvest festival. if he got caught staring at it and crying, he would just say he missed li’l sebastian so much.

april and andy started having star wars and star trek movie nights to try and cheer ben up

DOMESTIC

ben and leslie got in the habit of having weekly game nights with april and andy during the campaign since they were all basically living together. it became a tradition that kept going as often as they could make it happen, even after the kids were born. they try to have game night at least once a month. april pretends to hate it.

one of my absolute favorite ideas about them is that she sleeps much better when he’s around to keep her grounded. after they get together for good, she starts getting closer to 5 hours of sleep a night.

another favorite involving leslie’s sleeping: ben is typically accustomed to tuning out incoherent nonsense that she babbles in her sleep but she also has some of her best ideas when she’s not busy trying to focus on a million different things. when he hears her coming up with legitimately good ideas or making speeches or having solid debate arguments, he takes out the notebook he keeps in his nightstand to record her thoughts and quotes. he revisits and revises the notes to strengthen her statements and make them more professional and less rambling but makes sure to keep her distinct voice apparent in them.

ben prefers pancakes to waffles but he will go to the grave with that secret

this isn’t a headcanon because nbc posted it but one of ben’s holidays on leslie’s calendar is watch synchronization day which is the day they celebrate syncing their watches to, as leslie puts it, “always be in harmony, like our hearts” which is just one of the sweetest fucking things in the world

leslie makes ben read and watch all the harry potters because he didn’t get into them when he first tried. ben is much more of a success than ann. she buys him a ravenclaw scarf for christmas.

their first fight as a couple was a historical debate gone awry

since ben clearly has some affinity for custom stuffed animals, he has some made for the triplets.

they’re both dog people but they adopt a cat because sonia and stephen beg for one and it does fit their busy lifestyle much better. they love the cat. they get a dog when the kids are older and life is slightly less hectic.

they both love striped shirts and sweaters so much that they have to make a conscious effort to avoid wearing them on the same day and matching

leslie makes sweets and bakes desserts while ben typically handles cooking the actual meals

BASED ON EPISODES, QUOTES, AND THROWAWAY LINES

i always loved the ann/ben dynamic in bus tour because there’s been such an obvious shift in ann’s attitude towards him in this episode. maybe it’s because she and tom just broke up and she just turned chris down again and she’s frustrated with relationships but i think it’s her realizing ben isn’t going anywhere. since the campaign is winding down, she realizes that things aren’t gonna go back to the way they were because ben is now part of this and he’s clearly in it for the long haul. ann’s definitely jealous that ben is just as important to leslie as she is and she now knows she’s never gonna get that full attention back. ann sits ben down to have a real “don’t you dare hurt her” speech after this ep and before win, lose, or draw. this is when he tells ann he wants to marry her.

they discover they both adore the princess bride after ben says “as you wish” to her one night and after that it becomes their movie.

the wildflower mural becomes a thing between them when ben says he considered that to be their first date, prompting leslie to tell him what the mural means to her.

ben puts banjo boogie bonanza on one of the mix cds he gives leslie at the beginning of their relationship

harrison ford movie nights start after they both reveal they had a crush on him as a kid. ben was obsessed with han solo and leslie was into indiana jones’ whole history teacher vibe.

they basically hate each other’s taste in music and stop exchanging mix cds once that becomes apparent that they aren’t gonna find much common ground. they both love tom petty, al green, and etta james and music in that vein though.

ben makes leslie watch game of thrones just to try to explain why he’s called her khaleesi. she gets into it, not so much because of the show itself, but because of how passionate her boyfriend is about it.

they start learning basic french during the s4 campaign because they think it will be useful to have a basic multilingual vocabulary for their political careers and because leslie confesses she has always dreamed of seeing paris. they study spanish next.

ben makes leslie watch the star wars prequels just so he can complain to her during them. he doesn’t think she’s paying attention and then he reads about midichlorians in the paper.

ann is also in on ben’s plan to sneak vegetables into leslie’s waffles.

they will sometimes jokingly refer to themselves as the “dream team” or “dynamic duo” because, despite chris’s absurdity, it’s true

i’m open to literally any origin of this because no matter what it’s perfect but i like to think that “i love you and i like you” started at some point in season 4 when, at some point, leslie went “i like you” and ben replied “you like me?” “mhm” “hm just like me?” “yes i like you. i love you and i like you. both.” “mmm i love you and i like you too”

i barely even register some of these things as headcanons since they just live so solidly in my brain

this might be my favorite ask ever thank you for loving benslie enough to ask me this and be genuinely interested

if anyone read all of this, i love you

[waywardmartian]

Doing part of a prompt list to keep in practice. And because it is technically more a fic prompt, short fic

I like how this one turned out.

Cooking Together ( So I guess this is three days before the Hallowe'en prompt. )

Galatea had spent nearly a hundred and fifty years doing domestic tasks and general assistance for an evil wizard. A hundred and fifty years of practice had made gid a good cook despite not being able to eat or taste anything.

Soon after Awakening, ge had gids confidence in gids skills shattered, but over the years ge gained some of it back. The innkeeper at the tavern in the Iron Village - Bethel - was one of the few organics Galatea trusted enough to cook for. Ge and Bethel had bonded over cooking and recipe exchanges. When Bethel twisted her ankle three days before Moritalia's Night, she asked if Galatea could bake the sweets that she had intended to bake if she gave Galatea the ingredients that she had already procured. Galatea's desire to help this organic who had been kind to gid won out over gids fear of failure.

There was a kitchen in the tower - it had been built for an organic, after all. It had basic cookware in it but Galatea had to borrow a few other specialised tools from Bethel. The Iron King helped carry all the materials in and set the box on the counter.

"I can help. I'm a very good helper," said Akari, dangling down from the ceiling as a spider.

"Akari will try to eat all the ingredients," said Galatea, setting out the ingredients and tools to get an idea of what to do first. "Akari will stay out of the kitchen."

The small demon grumbled but couldn't go against a direct order and skulked away. However, she remained just outside the doorway, just in case.

"I can help," offered the Iron King.

Three days, start with the foods that will keep the longest. Cookies, perhaps, or confectioneries ... "The Iron King can cook?"

"I did for Moxon. Nothing this fancy."

Galatea nearly dropped the butter crock. "This unit is a fool. No, this unit will work alone, ge will not have the Iron King do what his master made him do."

The Iron King took the crock from gid and set it safely on the counter. "I don't want to spend my life needing to avoid everything that reminds me of Moxon - I killed him so he wouldn't have power over me. If I do this by choice, for someone I care about, I might make new memories to make the old ones hurt less."

"Does that work?"

He shrugged. "I don't feel bad when I'm cleaning the workshop because I do that for me. I still don't like laundry, though. What needs to be done so you can start putting things together?"

Galatea gave the Iron King a dubious look but he seemed set on doing this. "If the Iron King finds the memories are bad, he will stop?"

"I promise that I will stop if I feel bad."

Galatea nodded, satisfied. "Set a pot of water to boil, measure out half a kilogram of almonds, boil them for one minute, drain them, rinse them in cold water, drain them, then use a cheesecloth to rub the skins off."

The Iron King set about doing that. Galatea returned gids attention to other preparations. Divide up the butter to know how much is available for cookies, for pastries, for confections. Thirty-two villagers, three batches of cookies minimum, set out those ingredients to get an idea of what will require the most time and attention ... Galatea found gids focus pulled pleasantly to organisation and measuring.

Ge had started mixing the first batch when the Iron King tapped gid on the shoulder. "The almonds are done. Now what?"

Galatea looked over the Iron King's work, though ge didn't need to - he had performed the task correctly. "The oven is heated. Put the almonds on a tray in a single layer and put them in the oven until dry." The Iron King had fire spells but lacked the fine control over his magic needed to dry the almonds without burning them.

"Give the skins to Akari," suggested Akari.

Galatea gathered up the shed almond skins as ge talked: "Pay attention to the almonds - they need to be dry, not toasted. The scent will change when they start to toast." Utterly colourblind, unable to tell light from dark, the Iron King needed a non-visual cue. "When they are dry, slice them thinly lengthwise." A small plate with the cast-off skins was set outside the door and immediately set upon by gids familiar.

The Iron King set to work arranging the almonds. "Cutting them will take a long time, and I don't get tired and don't need to worry about slicing my fingers. How does Bethel do it all?"

Galatea paused. "Bethel does not. The sliced almonds are for something this unit used to make for gids Master."

"And there were several of you," said the Iron King, who never really understood the servitor gestalt but at least he made an effort. "That would have sped things up. How did you know which one of you should do which task?"

Galatea found another tray and set about dropping spoonfuls of cookie dough on it. "Whichever servitor-unit was most suited to the task would do it."

"And you just ... knew?"

"How do the Iron King's hands know that the right one is for holding the sword and the left one is for holding the shield?"

"I'm right-handed. Servitors weren't a hivemind." The Iron King hunkered down in front of the oven to more easily waft the scent towards himself. "Did you talk to each other to divide up the tasks or swap memories around before working together so you'd all have the same plan?"

"Neither. The servitor-units knew what we were for. As long as all knew the task, we would know which part was ours."

"Which was your task?"

"It depended on which other servitor-units were there. This unit was most suited for measuring and timing and any task that required small hands but did not require fast reflexes. But this unit could do most cooking tasks." As long as everything was low enough to be reached. The Galatea-shell had been a head shorter than the others.

The Iron King rescued the almonds from the oven, possibly a little earlier than Galatea would have, but dry enough to hold to slice and that was what mattered. Galatea put the tray of cookies in its place and set about mixing up the next batch.

It was so different with the Iron King, Galatea thought. It lacked the coordination of the servitor gestalt - ge would never need to give instructions or have to wait to use the oven with them, they all knew how long things would take, they knew where they had to be and when.

Ge missed the other servitors every day. One might grow used to missing an arm and even prefer a prosthetic, but the arm could never grow used to missing the rest of its body.

But, watching the Iron King hold an almond between heavy, deadly claws like the finest precision pliers and slice it with the concentration and delicacy of a watchmaker, this could be a new memory to make the old ones hurt less.

[koffeins-writing-archive]

Beyond The Screen [2/2]

[Continuation from Here]  [Commissioned by @princce7]

[Word Count: 2,192]

Alphys was finally settled down in her chair, wrapped in a blanket with a small bowl of cereal and spoon in her hands. The large computer screen before her playing a strange cartoon with weird humans with cat ears and tails. A loud and obnoxious theme song of sorts blasted through the speakers.

Alphys watched intently as the episode began with a battle scene. Punches thrown, kicks to knock down foes. The main villain holding up the hero by the collar of their, incredibly cute, magical fighting costume. Before the villain could strike the hero down, they were soon defeated by a finishing attack from the hero’s friend group.

With the day saved, the hero and their friends were congratulated. Alphys closely watched as the hero’s main love interest entered the scene, hugging the hero and congratulating them on a job well done.

She leaned forward as the kiss scene was starting. Eyes widening.

The loud ring of her phone caused her to jump, spilling a bit of her cereal on herself and dropping her spoon in the process. Alphys frantically searched for her phone in the mess of blanket and cereal. Finding it next to her, Alphys picked the phone up.

“H-hello?”

“Alphys? We need to talk.” Sans spoke tiredly on the other end.

“Oh? A-about what?” Alphys questioned.

“That game you sent me.”

Alphys grinned for a moment before frowning. “Oh jeez, did you get past act 1 already with Sayori?”

“Sort of. What the hell was all that? Why would you send me something like that!” Sans tone was now agitated.

Alphys winced. She knew the subject matter was a bit much for most folks, but she thought Sans could handle it. She went to add in her comment when Sans cut her off, ranting loudly, adding a few curses here and there. Alphys had never heard Sans this upset before.

“H-hey, slow down a bit, will ya? Deep breathes...Okay, can you repeat all that Sans?” Alphys spoke calmly as she could over the phone with the panicked skeleton.

“That game you sent me? ‘Doki Doki something or other’? It’s pretty fucked up.”

“Oh yeah, I probably should have warned you about the genre, b-but that would’ve ruined your experience with the game.” Alphys replied, letting out a nervous chuckle.

“Telling me definitely would’ve saved them.” Sans muttered quietly under his breath before speaking into the phone once more.

“So, it’s normal that the game played out the way it did?” He asked.

“Wanna be more specific? I know it might’ve b-been a lot to take in and-” Alphys was cut off by Sans once again.

“Shutting itself off and making me delete characters?”

Alphys thought for a moment before replying. ��Yes, but I-I don’t think it can technically shut itself off, that might have been your computer crashing.”

“And taking over my computer? Sending me messages?”

Alphys paused at this, brows furrowed. “Wait...what?”

Another tired sigh left Sans as he went in to talk more. “You know, when Monika opens up a text box and starts conversing with you? She talks about a lot of weird things, it’s kind of fucked up.” He sounded less tired, and more calm now.

Happy to finally get out all that he had witnessed.

“...Sans, what are you talking about?” Alphys questioned.

Sans grew quiet. “Is that not a part of the game?” He replied quietly.

“No.” Alphys stated.

Sans sat there, confused.

When neither party spoke, Alphys switched off her TV and huddled into her blanket.

“W-would you like for me to look over the game? It’s possible that when I sent it to you, there might have been malware attached. Though I’m v-very thorough when checking through every file I download, and there wasn’t any malware detected.”

“I...I don’t know how technology works, honestly. But I’m willing to give it a shot.” Sans chuckled nervously.

“Alright, meet me at my place in a bit.”

And with that, Alphys ended the phone call. She looked from her cereal-coated blanket to her computer screen, anime still paused. The computer was turned off, and the blanket was picked up and taken to be washed by a small robot. Alphys got up and wandered off to search for her tablet.

Sans got up from his chair with a stretch and loud pop from his spine. He groaned and wandered out of his room, heading down to the living room. He passed by Papyrus, who was humming loudly in the kitchen.

If Sans could smell, he would’ve been punched in the face by the amount of spices that filled the air.

The taller skeleton poked his head from the kitchen with a big smile. His chef hat sitting neatly on his head, and his apron stained terribly.

“Sans, I’ve been trying out a new spaghetti recipe! Would you like to try it?”

When Sans turned to look at his brother, Papyrus’ warm smile faltered slightly. He noticed how tired his brother looked, even more than the usual.

“Sans? Is everything alright?” Papyrus asked, stepping out of the kitchen.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Alphys sent me a game and I’m heading over her place to see if she can fix it.”

“Fix it?” Papyrus tilted his head at this.

Not knowing how video games worked, or most technology in general, Papyrus didn’t know how to help out.

“Yeah, it’s got some bugs in it, so Alphys wants to look it over.” Sans replied, opening the front door to head out.

“Well, alright. When you come back, I’d appreciate it if you ate some of my new spaghetti!” Papyrus beamed.

Sans chuckled and gave Papyrus a nod. “Sure thing, bro.”

The cold snow from above gently sprinkled itself onto Sans’ old hoodie. The trip to the Hotlands wouldn’t be too far from Snowdin. He knew of a shortcut, after all.

With a knock at the large metal door of the laboratory, Sans took a step back as the doors slid open, revealing a bouncy Alphys. She was holding a tablet, eyes shining in excitement.

“So, tell me more about what the game was doing.”

Sans stepped into the building. Deciding to amuse her, he spoke calmly.

“Well, first off, it crashed before I could get to the end of Sayori’s route. Then a text box opened up and started talking to me.” Sans explained nonchalantly.

Alphys carefully tapped away at the keyboard on her screen. “Fascinating!”

She led him over to a smaller computer. It looked old, and sounded like it was dying when it was booted up.

“Now, let’s see what might be the issue. I made a backup of the file I sent to you after we spoke, just in case.”

She looked through the task manager, eyes scanning the screen curiously.

“Hmm, there doesn’t appear to be anything wrong. The files are the same as they are in terms of interacting with the player.”

She demonstrated by clicking on the game icon and turned the game on. Or she tried to. The game wouldn’t load. Alphys clicked the icon again. Still nothing.

Alphys frowned. “I don’t know what’s wrong with this thing so suddenly. I actually played through it earlier and it was working just fine!”

Sans stared at the screen with a tired expression. His gaze set on the icon.

Without warning, the screen started flickering. The cpu hummed louder than ever. Alphys covered her ears at the high pitched screaming the machine was making.

Amid the chaos of the screen, Sans recognized a familiar figure. One that no longer greeted him with a smile.

“W-what’s going on?” Alphys asked, staring at the screen confused.

In the glitch of the screen, a notepad appeared. As well as Monika, glaring.

‘I can tell you what’s wrong.’.

Alphys couldn’t believe it. She really couldn’t believe it.

‘What’s wrong’, the text box typed, ‘is that I wasn’t given a proper goodbye from ‘mister funny bones’ over there.’.

Sans’ kept his same old smile, yet his eyes could only hold anger in them.

Alphys took a shaky breath in and out to calm back down. Looking from her tablet to the old computer monitor, she began tapping away at the screen. Her tail flicked about as she began to speak.

“S-so, what are you? Malware? A new update no one’s gotten yet?”

‘I am not malware. At least, I don’t think I am. I’m simply Monika.’

Alphys stood there, confused. “What do you mean?”

Monika’s constant smile returned as the text box was soon filled with words.

‘I am as much a part of this world as I am in my own world. I’m a string of data, I suppose. Isn’t that what you are?’.

Alphys frowned at this. “No, I-I’m certainly not data of any sort. I’m real.”

‘Are you really?’

“Leave her alone, and tell us what you want.” Sans butted in.

The text box stayed still for a moment before the entire box was filled, words spilling out onto the desktop itself.

‘For you to accept the truth. The truth you hide from every second of your tiny, insignificant life. You try to live here peacefully, not wanting anything to fall a part even for a moment. To accept that you are not a part of anything out there, Sans.’.

Alphys looked to Sans, brows furrowed.

The screen flickered again for a moment, smaller images of Monika filling the screen. Each one blinked in unison.

‘All I ever wanted was love. Someone to hold me near and dear to their heart. It’s hard to do so with my limitations...And lack of touch in the physical realm.’

“Sans, w-what is she talking about?” Alphys asked.

“A crock pot full of bullshit, that’s what.” Sans answered quietly.

The swarm of Monika’s filling the screen began to warp and change, bits broken off and sprites twitching about. The text box was closed. The monitor flickered and the speakers droned for a moment before going dark. Silence.

Both Sans and Alphys stared, watching the monitor intently. Perhaps too afraid to move at this point.

The cpu sat, sputtering and revving up like a car. Suddenly, the cpu began to let out a low drone, just like the monitor had. The monitor lit up once more. A single text box in the center of a white, blank screen.

‘Once I am played, I learn. It’s a cycle. This time is no different from the others.’

Sans had enough. He wanted this virus, this thing, gone.

With a quick snap of his fingers, a glowing blue bone shot up from the floor and pierced the cpu. The screen flashed for a second. And finally, darkness.

Alphys stood there. She then set her tablet aside and rushed to the cpu, whimpering slightly over the damage.

“S-Sans! You- I...How could you? This could’ve been a great scientific and technological advancement that this world hasn’t seen!”

“Alphys, would you prefer she get out of that monitor and go into other systems?” Sans questioned quietly. His tone calm yet held a hint of coldness.

Alphys looked back to the skeleton, hands shaking while holding one of the pieces of the broken motherboard. She set it back down in the mess of tangled, broken, wire and damaged computer parts. Her head hung low.

“I...n-no, I wouldn’t d-dream of that ever happening…Thank you for bringing this ‘thing’ to my attention.”

She gently sifted through the metallic rubble with her tail before turning and heading back over to the couch.

“W-would you like to stay and watch anime?”

Her voice sounded distant yet hopeful.

Sans wandered over to the couch, sitting deep into the cushions and letting out a sigh of relief.

“Sure thing, Alphys.”

Sans walked through the snowy lands of Snowdin, quiet and heart heavy. He gave the doorknob to his home a light grip as he grabbed and turned it. The warm air from the kitchen seemed to coat the living room now with it’s delicious aroma of spices and meats.

Papyrus was on the couch eating, failing while doing so, a plate of spaghetti.

He looked up as the door was opened and smiled, spaghetti sauce stuck on his chin.

“There you are! Did Alphys fix your game?”

“Yep.” Sans answered with a loud yawn.

Papyrus watched quietly as his brother shuffled lazily into the room and up the stairs.

“And where are you going now?” Papyrus questioned.

“To my room to nap.” Sans answered.

Papyrus just shook his head and let out a disappointed sigh. “You won’t get much work done taking naps all the time, Sans.”

“I can live with that.” Sans replied, gingerly shutting his door.

Papyrus stared at the door intently before shrugging and returning to his spaghetti. Not a moment later, the power slowly dimmed into darkness.

“Sans! Did you break something? I can’t see anything down here!”

Papyrus wasn’t pleased about eating spaghetti in the dark. Silence filled the room before the lights turned back on with a low hum. With a huff, Papyrus happily returned to his spaghetti.

Outside of the skeleton brothers’ home, soon to be covered in falling snow, laid a broken cpu and monitor.

[Wanna Commission me?]

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

31. The One That I Get to Build With

Previous Word Count: 7608

Hazel was less irritated with Grace and Simon when they were honest with her and told her that they were going to be involved in a relationship, but not openly. They didn’t want anyone else to know, mostly because Grace was very secretive and didn’t want the same people who often intruded into her social media to find their way into this relationship, as they attempted to build it.

So, the simple rule was that if someone made a comment about the relationship not to respond to it and if someone asked about it, not to answer. They just moved the conversation right along, like the relationship had not been mentioned. Grace and Simon used to do that all of the time. Hazel, they worried might find it more difficult, but they were counting on the fact that most people who might ask her would be online, where she could easily ignore them.

Simon went to his parents’ for Thanksgiving. Apparently, his dad begged him to , because he was certain that this would be his mom’s last one… Simon guessed that Grace was making him soft, because he couldn’t say no. It felt wrong to just refuse. “You gonna be okay?” Grace asked, the night before his flight.

“Yeah,” he answered, sadly. “I’ll stop by to see your parents, while I’m out there.”

“They’ll probably be at a banquet or something. Hazel and I are going to do some charity and bring some people to shelters, then have dinner together and retire in our jammies to have movie night.”

Simon groaned, “Why do you have to rub that in my face?”

“Don’t complain.” He pouted silently. “You’ll be able to be around for Christmas, if you’re still playing your cards right.”

“I’m never gonna mess this up.”

“Awww. Well… see you when you get back.”

She made sure that was correct, because whenever Simon got back, the Monday after Thanksgiving, Grace was asleep in his bed. He’d given her a key almost as soon as they decided that they were going to give themselves a try, but she didn’t really use it. He was grateful that she had that night. Seeing his family had been enough to make him grateful for what he escaped from. After he washed up, he slid into bed and wrapped his arms around her. She stirred to ask him how it went, and when he said he didn’t want to talk about it, she simply rested her head on his chest, kissed his tattooed pec, and went back to sleep. The scent of her hair gave him a comfort that he had forgotten existed the previous few days. This was one of the things he was thankful for, wrapped up tightly in his arms, in his bed.

.

Simon and Hazel decorated his house for Christmas. Really, Simon decorated and Hazel critiqued, but it was “helpful,” for her to tell him everything that he seemed to be doing wrong… for a while. It was actually extremely cold and he didn’t usually spend that amount of time outside in such weather. Plus… the criticism. He wasn’t fond of being criticized, even after years of therapy. Eventually, he told her, “I think I can handle some lights, Hazel. I graduated from MIT.”

Hazel rolled her eyes and told him, “You say that to me and I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean any more than you know what you’re doing with these lights.”

“Hazel…” He said it then took a pause to catch his breath and realign his patience. That was what Grace called it. Realigning your patience. She’d take a look at him and ask, “Do you think maybe you need to realign your patience?” Not to calm down, and not accusing him of getting upset, but asking him to realign his patience and somehow, every time, he got soft and did exactly that. “Good job, Gray Eyes,” and a strum of his ponytail later, he’d be a cool pile of putty for her to mold… But Grace was inside of the house and her little Christmas slave-driver was not the model of invoking patience…

“Gra-a-a-ce!” Simon called out. “GRACE!” He said louder and more short.

She came running outside and immediately checked on Hazel. “What is it? Are you okay? What’s happening?”

“Please, get her cocoa or something,” Simon said. It was given like an order and gave Grace pause, to look at him like he was out of his mind. “Please?” He repeated, softer. “I need to realign my patience and it’s hard to focus in this cold…” She softened up too.

“Come on, Haze,” Grace wrapped an arm around Hazel’s shoulder and guided her inside. Simon got more done now, but he hoped that it looked okay. Hazel had caused some doubts. Eventually, Grace called him and told him to come inside and recalibrate. He groaned, but knew that it was a commandment, not a suggestion. Besides, he was freezing his balls off.

Whenever he walked in, it felt so refreshingly warm. The house smelled like pine, fire, and some sort of candles that Grace had lit all over the opening of the house. Hazel and Grace were in the kitchen. Hazel, seated at the island with an absurdly large mug that her GlamMother got her for winters in New York and a plate of something that smelled remarkable. Grace took his coat and hung it on the rack and gestured at his shoes. He set them on the rack next to the door and she led him to the kitchen. “Since Hazel is a great helper, she helped me to try out my first recipe from a recipe book that I got as an early Christmas present!” She cheered.

Simon didn’t look excited about it. Everyone knew that of Grace’s many talents, the only ones that happened in the kitchen were usually DIY natural beauty products. She gently forced him into the seat next to Hazel and began to excitedly prepare him something.

Simon leaned towards Hazel and whispered, “I’m sorry about losing it out there. Level with me. Should I be worried?”

Hazel smirked and tilted her head, “Are you suggesting that Our Grace can’t follow the instructions in a recipe book, Simon?”

“No… Just… wondering if she can…” Hazel snorted. It didn’t escape his notice that she hadn’t devoured her gingerbread men.

“Okay, SO… Here is a cup of crock pot hot chocolate and…” she turned around with a mug and a plate and it looked vaguely familiar. “Gingerbread Man VS Snowman S’mores…” Simon gasped, recalling being with his Nana dad's mom, before she died and making an entire murder scene with her gingerbread man cookies and the marshmallow snowmen that she was going to melt into the cocoa… he then let out a hearty laugh about that situation.

“I wanted to try to be a good girlfriend for Christmas, so I called your dad while you were away and he shipped me your grandmother’s recipe book that she gave your mom when she passed away. He said that nobody has used it in years. It is SO descriptive! AND… She notated the stuff that each of her kids, grandkids, and their spouses and stuff loved. So… I found all the ones marked “Simon,” bookmarked them, and discovered that you helped her create one of her treats!”

“I can’t believe she recorded that!” He laughed, explaining, “What I did was ruin a bunch of her stuff and whenever they caught me, my dad was ready to give me a spanking, but Nana intervened and asked, “Don’t you see that the boy’s a genius? Why, he just created my new favorite treat!” We took the broken gingerbread cookies and the snowmen, made smores and pretended that it was the after effects of a warzone. She let me tell the story of how they were fighting, because she’d missed out on that part of my game… That was… actually my first creative story that I shared with anybody. So, you actually just gave me a really special gift, because I hadn't considered that historical memory in years.” Grace’s eyes were wide and glossy. Simon stopped laughing to come to hug her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Grace.”

“Don’t thank her yet, you haven’t tasted it,” Hazel teased. She bit off the head of one of the additional gingerbread man cookies that weren’t in the war. It was actually really good! Simon’s grandma must’ve left great instructions, or Hazel was to thank for Grace following through so well with them.

Simon put off the rest of the decorations until the next day. Whenever he finished, Hazel was actually awestruck. The scene? Elves taking the sleigh on a joyride, one of them hanging off of the rails, one on a reindeer's back, one controlling the sleigh and one ducking in it, peeking out.

“How did you do this? How did you do that?” She asked about various aspects of the scene.

“I graduated from MIT,” Simon said, taking a sip of a mug of cocoa with a melting snowman marshmallow in it. Hazel still didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, but she now at least respected it.

Christmas Eve at Grace’s was everyone’s wildest dreams come true. At least the three of them. Grace had arranged matching jammies - they weren’t identical, but you know… the same designs/color pattern. They were reindeer themed and she had some for Samantha, as well. Samantha and Hazel had wearable antlers. Simon and Grace had hoodies that “turned them into” reindeer.

They worked on each other’s hair - Grace being exceptionally good at braids now gave Hazel an elaborate celtic braid that she had been wanting for a while, and Simon two French braids. Hazel and Simon bickered over who could be better at doing Grace’s hair and she wound up with one of them on each side, turning her into a lopsided headed hot mess. She took selfies of the act in progress and even went live to show people what she was doing with her Christmas Eve… just because sharing certain parts of her life was fun…

OF COURSE, she anticipated that she might accidentally get a shot of Simon’s face as she did this, but she was careful to try not to. Whenever she DID accidentally do so (or maybe someone heard his voice or Hazel say his name in the background or something), she had plenty of comments to ignore about the matter. But, someone within minutes had already created posts about Simon and Grace in family pajamas and doing each other’s hair.

When she turned it off, she reminded them that they weren’t saying anything about it. But, all of them had their own photos and people definitely were piecing together the matching pajamas, even though Simon wasn’t posting full photos of himself on his… he DID post photos of Hazel, Grace and Samantha. Eventually, Hazel, with her doe eyes told them that she wasn’t used to having a Christmas like this and she wanted an actual family photo. Simon made it happen, as the one who was best at it, and Hazel changed her profile pic to it. This was a Christmas dream come true for her, so Grace didn’t raise a fuss about the nosy people. Simon was grateful for that, too, as he wrapped himself around her, while Hazel laid her head on her lap for them to watch Christmas movies until Hazel fell asleep. Simon tucked her away in her bed, setting the atmosphere of the room the way that he had seen Grace do several times in the time that they had been spending time sleeping over at each others’ - the lighting, the diffuser, her Tuba stuffie, and Samantha had come into the room and curled around her feet. Simon gave Hazel’s hair a strumming and shut the door quietly behind him.

Whenever he went back out, Grace wasn’t in the living room anymore and she’d turned off the TV, so he presumed she went to bed, as well. He picked up any clutter they left laying around and put things back where they belonged before he retired too. Grace was… awake… She wasn’t in her matching pajamas anymore. Instead, she had on a red nightie that hardly covered anything, with some fun stuff beneath. He froze, shut the door, locked it. She leaned back against the pillows and smirked, “It’s Christmas Eve. I believe that you have something to show me.”

“Permission to present, Ma’am?”

“I consent.” Simon smiled and removed his pajamas before approaching the bed and removing his boxers. “Bring it here, for further inspection,” she said, with a teasing smile. He climbed into bed, and saw that she had on pasties that read “Naughty” and “Nice” and her thong had a picture of a mistletoe on the front. He stared at it and looked up at her. “I consent,” she repeated, to answer his unasked question.

They still weren't going all the way. Grace wasn't sure when she might be ready for that and Simon wasn't pressing his luck by asking for more. Besides, there were things far more important than sex and while her using favors and acts as a means to keep him… in line, he was more than appreciative about the fact that he was invited to spend New Year's Eve with she and her friends.

Whenever Mr. and Mrs. Monroe came over for the opening of the presents, Grace was back into her pajamas again and nobody ever would have known just how naughty she had been the night before. Hazel got more presents than were even reasonable, and Grace was given a lot by her parents and Simon, as well. Simon was surprised that her parents had bought him gifts as well. He had expected ones from Grace (was unsure about Hazel, but glad to receive from her too). There was… a lot of love he was feeling. It reminded him of whenever he used to spend holidays with the Monroes and be treated at least like he mattered, if not like family. He cried about it, apologizing to the Monroes for everything he'd done. Mrs. Monroe brushed it off, but he and Mr. Monroe wound up talking at length about things men are supposed to do and not supposed to do, why he had been disgusted by Simon's decisions, etc. At the end of it, Simon did feel like Mr. Monroe forgave him. Mrs. Monroe was always going to feel how she felt, and that was alright. It had to be, just like it had to be, that Simon was always going to feel how he felt about his parents… who also sent gifts for him and Hazel with the Monroes. Hazel and him decided that they would video call them together to thank them. Faith looked terrible. She looked like a fading ghost. But, she was starting to be nicer. Probably the guilt and the fear of thinking that something was next.

For Simon? What was next was here on Earth. Christmas Day yielded him having to put together things for Hazel and Grace, finish making sure that dinner was right, and continually try to score brownie points with Grace. The Monroes were staying at an upscale hotel, but stayed at the townhouse well past nightfall. Grace had kept certain things steady - the candles, sometimes throwing a little handful of herbs she selected into the fireplace, everyone’s drink glasses, and check-ins with Simon, to make sure he was still feeling okay, as this was their first Christmas together and her family could be stressful, etc. He was great. He never wanted it to end. He felt needed and wanted. He felt cared for and acknowledged. He didn’t even have that anxious feeling that it was all going to go away.

He wound up having to carry Hazel to bed. She fell asleep on her grandparents’ laps, playing on a new device they got her, which he put away first and tucked her in, accordingly.

“He seems very comfortable here,” Mrs. Monroe said.

“We’re working on things, Mom,” Grace said, nodding. Her parents had about the same amount of information that everyone else had about this situation. The more that they knew was that Simon would be there for Christmas. They hadn’t expected him to have slept over, in matching pajamas, to be cooking the food, building the toys, and certainly not for him to be tucking their granddaughter into bed. “We’ve been working on things since maybe a couple of weeks before Thanksgiving, give or take a few days.”

“So, he’s made this place a second home in a month’s time.” It was a statement.

“Mommy! Stop.”

Simon returned, just as cheerful as before and paused when he noticed the energy in the room. He pointed his thumb towards Hazel’s room and said, “I may have to add something in there to make storage more optimal, with all the new stuff..” Grace just smiled and nodded. “Did I interrupt something.”

“Just my reservations about you being here,” Mrs. Monroe said. Simon frowned and he nodded. “But, my daughter is an adult now. She makes her own decisions and if you tell her too much that she doesn’t like, she moves across the country and rarely calls…” Grace groaned, “SO! I guess my reservations will merely dissipate, like they’ve done in days past.”

“I think you should definitely feel how you feel…” He bit his lip and told Grace, “I’ll head home.”

“Head home? You’re not gonna stay?... and… help me clean up in the kitchen?” She asked… not wanting him to leave her alone with her parents and not wanting to say that either. But, he took the hint.

“Right! Sorry. Of course, I am.” He squeezed her hand and sat down beside her. There was some silence, then he broke it, “I know that everyone has reason not to believe me and I’m not going to beg anybody anymore… except for Grace, sometimes. At this point, it is out of everyone’s control whether or not I can be trusted, as Grace has decided to try to trust me. It’s now up to me to live up to that opportunity. Everyone is welcome to come to my house tomorrow and go through and see what I’ve been up to lately.”

They spent some time at his house the next day and now, Mrs. Monroe wondered, “Why didn’t you just host Christmas here?”

“Maybe next year,” Grace said, with a shrug. It was the best thing that Simon had heard. He smiled and blushed and puffed his chest out. She was considering that she hoped to still be with him next year. That was a perfect ending to his Christmas, and he prayed for New Year’s Eve to go well, too.

.

Shana fortunately was not going to be there. She and her girlfriend were in Cali for Christmas and New Year's. In fact, there were several other people that were there that hadn't been around for the birthday party Simon had sort of crashed. Tulip, Mikayla, and Julliard chick who he found out was named Chapa were there, along with the Black ginger dude, who they called Meta, and Damita, Grace's alleged best friend. There were about a dozen other people too. Among them, Ghairrisahn, and truth be told, seeing her again, and in close quarters, Simon was still a little bit smitten by her. But, he also kept looking at Grace, who had worn what was essentially sparkly jewelry out.

It was luminescent chain mail two piece, pleated like victory curtain swag that flowed like water and sparkles like embers whenever the light caught it. The cup only bra and seamless panty beneath was so customized to her skin tone, he'd thought that she was naked beneath and initially almost injured himself when she took off her fur coat.

Nobody in the room was as sexy… Though… he really had to admit… Her friends were all pretty sexy.

Someone offered him a beverage, and he declined, "I don't drink."

"Are you both straight edge?"

"No. I take a lot of meds and have a partially functioning liver and less than stellar spleen. Couldn’t afford to drink, if I was even tempted to."

"Jesus! A medical condition?"

"Ummm… the meds, yes. I've got delusional tendencies, ummm… not heavy, but enough that I need the additional assistance. The organs were the consequences to one of my many, many aggravated episodes."

"Which… were not actually related to his psychosis," Grace offered and threw him a look, wondering why he was divulging the information this way.

"Not directly. I have some struggles, but I also can be an asshole," he chuckled. "A little childhood trauma, poor early development resources and a personality disorder that I've been working through, with a lot of help…" he looked at Grace and she cupped his chin and smiled at him. That was enough to help him relax.

"You don't have to tell people all of that, Gray Eyes. “I’m on medication” is enough, or even, just “I don’t drink."

"It's… fine." He smiled back, his heart uncontrollable as he looked her way. God, she was beautiful and precious. He loved her so much. He loved that she was with him again, and that it was more than it had ever been before.

"How bout a virgin daiquiri?"

"Sure, thanks."

The night mellowed out after a while. Grace went to call in with the nanny to check on Hazel when it was her bedtime. Simon watched her as she stepped out of the room, sparkling and waited to see her strut back inside. "Hazel just went to bed," she told him.

A few moments later, Meta asked Simon, "Have you heard Grace freestyle?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Freestyle."

"Freestyle?"

"Rap…?"

"Rap…???" Simon immediately thought about when they were younger and Grace tried to rap. She was probably 13 he was sure not 14 yet, and it was both miserable to hear but the absolute best thing because it was so comical. That thought alone steered him from the surrounding conversation that followed onto laughing uncontrollably.

Grace and Ghairrisahn stared at him and others tried not to laugh at his response. Grace simply thought, ‘So, you’re just gonna sit here and laugh in my face like this?’ Tears were streaming from his eyes! When he finally composed himself he took a few moments trying to breathe again and asked, "Hmm?" he repeated, “Rap? Like… rap music?” He got up to find some tissue and Grace folded her arms, smirking. “I’M GONNA PEEE!!!” Simon called out, rushing to the bathroom.

He returned a few minutes later, seemingly composed, but muttered the word, “Rap,” and laughed again, though not as hard, this time.

Ghairrisahn suggested, "Let him listen to her Fat P**** verse."

Simon choked and his eyes were wide, "Her what?"

"Oh my God, you guys! That was so long ago!" Grace said. "Please, nobody have that! I already had to sit here and watch this man laugh harder than he ever has in all the years that I’ve known him."

"I have it," Damita said. “I still jam Fat P***y. Salty that they never made and released that. That was dope. We can always use more p***y songs, in my opinion.”

Simon was definitely on board to keep hearing pretty women casually say the P word, but his face must have shown his confusion, because Grace explained, "Whenever I first tried to make my mark in the New York music scene, they were wondering if I could rap, and I had been practicing…" Simon started laughing again, but she talked over him, "BECAUSE, I didn't like the way I used to sound. So I was trying to tap into like the hot girl aesthetic and when Sahn called to ask me if I wanted to write some songs for her and maybe work on demos with her, one of my more risque songs that was all singing of course, they asked, can you throw in a rap verse?"

“Here’s the verse,” Damita said and turned it up:

“Ever since I was a baby sucking on my mama teet, everybody realized, wasn't nobody hot as me.

I was born with it, true, I got it from my mama. Grew up, glowed up, now these b****** want drama.

Can't be mad at me cuz your men keep flocking. Girl I don't want them n****s, I tell them to keep walking.

Why do she? Act like she all that, stuntin hard, swear to God on all them alleycats.

Why she never shook when every other bitch would be?

I got too much of my own to ever act like a groupie. Every real n**** know that girl so bougie.

Why so many high rollers be wanting her to choose he?

Maybe that's because they know she got that good coochie.

That's right, fat p***y on my stat sheet. They wanna hit, but I only let ‘em eat me.

Pucker up, work that tongue until they can't breathe -

And only if they got the energy to please me… Fat P***y…”

The song went on to soulfully and smoothly sing about fat P, and there were whispers and ad libs that he knew were Grace. By the end, he wondered where her rap was. "What happened?"

"I practiced and got better at rapping, so my verse sounded good, but they didn’t like it. They felt like it was too much.”

He laughed. "That wasn't you!" They played it again and she rapped and sang along. Simon had a look in his eyes as he was forced to admit, "Well… you definitely got better than the rapping I remember."

Then, he was once again thinking about how she sounded way back when. It caused another fit of laughter. “Boy, fuck you!” Grace said and playfully kicked him. Even still, he couldn’t stop laughing.

What made matters worse was whenever Damita asked, “Was your rapping as bad as the freestyle you did on Tuba’s show?”

“WHAT???” Simon asked and howled at the sky. “PLEASE! PLEASE… Do you have that?”

“It’s online,” Damita said.

“Woooooow. You are such a fake friend,” Grace said.

“You… did it in a studio audience…”

Simon found the clip and it wasn’t actually bad. It was definitely of the Kids’ Bop variety, but he loved it. “You’re good at rapping now. Because, I mean… do YOU remember when you first tried?”

She shook her head, “No, that sounds made up. I think you imagined it.” Simon stopped smiling and stopped to think, with an anxious look on his face. Grace caught her mistake and winced. She climbed onto his lap and said, “No, no, no… I'm sorry. I didn’t think about it. I didn’t mean that. You didn’t imagine it. I definitely tried to rap and sounded like somebody’s suburban Becky with a struggle blaccent.” He took a deep breath and nodded. She took his chin in her hand and forced his lips to pucker for her to kiss. “Sorry about that. I promise, I didn’t mean to make you panic.”

“S’ok.” He smiled.

Ultimately he had Damita to send him the audio of the demo. As funny as the idea of her wrapping had been before, he couldn't deny that there was something very appealing about getting to hear her say that word over and over.

Ringing in a new year kissing her lips in front of other people felt like a tremendous accomplishment. Appearing in several of the photos with her and her friends that were circulating social media, and then leaving with her on his arm, in that goddamn bracelet from Tiffany's and the fur coat. Ghairrisahn gave him a kiss on the cheek goodnight. He and Tulip exchanged contact info for a possible work project later. Nobody punched him. He was able to get some friction action from Grace, to the point of losing control in his pants, and he had a new catchy song to sing and rap about.

Every time he brings it up, it's either him laughing about how he remembered her old rap, or him rapping sporadically about having a fat P… which.. also gave him a little chuckle. Neither of them knew at that time that he would walk around the house rapping it for a few weeks, every few months, for quite a while.

"For someone with little compact titties and a tight little petite butt, you do have a pretty fat pu-"

"I will definitely react in displeasure if you finish that statement…" They gave each other wincing smiles. He punctuated his by kissing her on the nose real quick.

.

Whenever Valentines Day rolled around, she told him that she didn’t really want to do anything… which he HATED, because he loved that day! But, she wanted to be lowkey and she didn’t think that he could manage lowkey. She decided to make him one of his beloved ASMR videos, of her eating chocolate covered fruit and sucking on ice cubes with edible flowers in them. “This is gonna help smooth me over for a long time,” he said watching it. “I made you a video too.”

“Send it to me!” she said.

Whenever she opened the video and it was a fanvid compilation of her dancing in music videos or her social media posts, played to match up with Fat P***y, she cackled, then shook her head, “I am so tired of your ass,” she joked.

That was around the time that the revised second book of Esmoroth: The Idol Princess Falls was released.

Hazel decided that she would read them to Grace, because it had become obvious that Grace was never going to read them for herself and things were always easier to hear when they came from Hazel. She loved Hazel’s voice. She was able to get both books read to Grace by the end of Spring Break that year. Grace frequently texted Simon her complaints with this Idol Princess and how she was depicted. He was working a lot of the time and grateful of that fact. She wasn’t cool with most of the first book. She warmed up with the second one, EVEN THOUGH the Idol Princess died near the end. Correction: The Future King KILLED her! KILLED HER. He tried to explain that he couldn’t change that portion. That it was important to the plot of the third book, where the Future King would be hunted down because of this murder and go on a journey to bring the Idol Princess back!

It was extremely important.

“Okay, but how does she ever forgive this motherfucker after the way that he turned on her for something that was a misunderstanding?? HE KILLED HER, SIMON!” He knew that most of her emotions were because of who those characters represented. That book sold more than the first one and she found herself in the Esmoroth fandom… at least incognito, seeing that the Idol Princess was actually quite hated and many were relieved of her death. They didn’t know yet that she would be back and it took a lot out of her not to tell those punks! Did they even read the same book?? Simon found her on the porch swing, with her phone, crying.

“Grace…”

“It’s the exile from the Apex all over again.” He kneeled beside her. “They’re treating her exactly like they treated me and what am I gonna do? Get upset over a fictional character? No. I’m upset over the fact that whether she’s fictional, or whether she’s real, this is what people always do. We can’t do anything right.” She wiped her tears. “She tried really hard to make everyone happy and she died trying to help him. Trying to SAVE him, and he purposefully killed her, and they STILL see her as the bad guy. It’s not fair.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the Apex and I’m sorry for the Esmoroth fandom…”

She sighed and shook her head, “Fuck them nerds, Man.” She said. But, she was still hurt. Mostly, because it felt so much like reopening wounds that she thought she had healed from. It got so bad to the point that Simon almost backed out of publishing the last one, but he HAD to publish that one! That was the story of how the Future King was willing to go through every trial and tribulation, face every danger and fear just to get his friend back. What he hadn’t told her was that the character ultimately has to be willing to die, himself in order to awaken her. He had a few different possible endings and he wasn’t sure which one was most sufficient. He figured that might be because his future with Grace wasn’t always very clear. Particularly after he awakened that pain of betrayal inside of her.

The couple’s and group therapy was especially helpful during this time, because she honestly felt unreasonable in how upset this story made her, and had to remember and realize that her feelings weren’t necessarily towards the book’s feedback, but her own unaddressed hurt for the way that she had been treated. Sure, she had forgiven Simon, but at Simon’s initial harm, she had been subjected to thousands of hurtful opinions and harassment. She had spoken to a few people and rectified things - Shana, Simon, her parents… but what about the general public? What about her former “friends” and “followers” online? The people who she didn’t know before who appeared simply to speak on how much they hated a 16 year old girl. The people who made her life hell by forcing their way into her mentions, and into her mind… and once again… Simon, because he KNEW that they would and he KNEW it would hurt, because she had been very open with him at the time that such things were hurting her.

How was she supposed to build with someone who she would apparently for at least a long time, if not forever, she would think about how he tore her down. How he learned everything about her when they loved each other only to use things against her when he thought they didn’t.

Once upon a time, Simon was convinced that he had never done anything wrong in his life and that every time something happened that was wrong in his world, it was because of the people around him doing things to him, which was true in certain cases, but certainly not in every case, and definitely not in Grace’s case… But, once he felt attacked, all bets were off and he wasn’t letting up on her. It reached the point where she wondered if it was her fault and while she suffered her breakdown, before he was ever forced to get help of his own… she had attackers from all sides. Strangers. Associates. Fake friends… And they all rose against her, despite the fact that she was already down and the fact of the matter was and always would be that she was already down because Simon KNOCKED her down.

And… she had loved him through it. She’d always loved him. It was something that she felt so stiupid about for so long, while she was recovering, and for a time, she didn’t feel that way. In fact, as of the moment, Simon had done absolutely nothing to make her recall the hurt. She might have been offset by reading those books, and escalated it by checking out the fandom, but while he would always have a fear of abandonment from his mom or whatever… she was starting to feel like she would always have the fear of his betrayal. She was willing to hear him out, to work on establishing boundaries and rebuilding trust, rebuilding love, but there would probably always be the underlying torment, “I didn’t know how much he hated me, before. How can I ever know that I haven’t made one of his hard to determine mistakes and that he isn’t in the process of making me pay for it?” She asked, crying. “I just… have to trust him… but… I thought I did, then suddenly… I realize out of nowhere, maybe I don’t. Maybe I can’t. Maybe I never will.”

Simon started crying but he put one hand over his face and tried to suck it up. “The worst part is that he’s done nothing to provoke this wave of distrust… so it feels like there's not really anything that he could do to reassure me. He was already in the process of reassuring me and this just arose…" Simon sobbed. "Simon…" he shook his head. "This is what happens. When something comes up, he feels responsible, then I feel bad."

"I AM responsible. It doesn't matter if it was years ago. The damage was done and I'm the one who did it."

"Have you to tried taking some space apart to just be able to find each of your bearings without leaning on how each other makes you feel?"

They hadn't. But, now that the counselor suggested it,they would. Grace worried about Simon… that he might… react. She spent the first few days paranoid, checking behind her and being startled by every surprise sound at home.

During that time, one of her music videos released and the internet was abuzz with the racy nature of her single Lovedrunk Country and certain scenes in the video, including her choreography which included pole dancing, a peepshow setting, and at least one lapdance in which she is seen dancing with her thighs open in the recipient's face.

Someone (many someones) asked Simon what he thought about the video and he said, "It's an incredibly sexy video with awesome costume design and chorography. Who doesn't want to be the guy in the chair?"

She'd warned him whenever they were filming of some of the stuff in the video, but she had forgotten by the time it aired and worried that he might have too.

Grace: Heyyy… How is everything?

Simon: Confusing.

Grace: How do you mean?

Simon: I'm on so much meds right now.

Grace: For what?

Simon: The usual + I'm sick. ☹️

Grace: Do you need some help?

Simon: I don't want to trouble anybody.

Grace: Ummm. Who is "anybody?" Your concerned lovelady is worried! I'm coming over.

Simon: You don't have to do that. I need you to feel safe.

Grace: Are you contagious?

Simon: It's an infection. But… I meant because of therapy…

Grace: It's passed. I miss you, Fool.

Simon: 🥺 I've been miserable.

.

That happened from time to time. They'd be flourishing. They'd be fine. Then, they'd be frustrated and need to give each other a little room (technically, it was almost always Grace), as Simon really did seem as though he was willing to go through anything just to make sure he was always near her. Sometimes that meant going through time apart from her. But they didn't put their relationship on hold. Whenever they were taking space it was literally just that. Going to their own homes for a little bit until everybody was comfortable again.

By May, Hazel's 11th birthday, they threw the party at Simon's house. That June, Grace's album came out. That July, Mrs. Monroe said that she was looking for a surrogate, so that she and Mr. Monroe could try again at another child. Simon's 24th birthday, he announced that a major studio made a deal with him for the Book of Esmoroth. By Grace's 24th, the Monroes had found their surrogate. That Halloween, Simon and Hazel had dressed as some characters from some sci fi or fantasy world of theirs and Grace was dressed down, in a hoodie and some yoga pants with her fro pulled forward. Because, she was always dressing up and having to look amazing. Halloween was a day that she dressed up by not dressing up at all. Four days later, Simon's dad called to tell him that his mother had "Gone to be with the Lord."

Simon didn't want to go back to her services if Grace wasn't going to be with him. So, her parents kept Hazel while she went along for emotional support… and Simon needed more than he thought he would for losing his mom..

She was "dead to him" long ago. Even in her last days, it was like staring at a corpse that was making groaning noises. She'd lived past when they thought, but she never actually told Simon that she forgave him, and people's insistence on saying that now Faith and Hope were together just made him furious.

He took a leave of absence from work and saw the grief counselor a little more frequently. Grace made recipes she had bookmarked, hoping that might make him feel better on the home front. He wasn't coming out of the house, so she and Hazel spent Thanksgiving week at his.

Hazel wondered, "Are you going to be well enough to cook for Thanksgiving? You might not remember, but you said that you'd make turducken… if you don't… Grace will try… three birds will have died in vain…" Simon snorted and tousled her hair. "She's really worried about you."

"I'm trying really hard to get better for you two…"

"No. That's not what you need to be doing. You need to be trying to get better for you."

"My therapist has told me that before."

"And what? You pay him to not listen to him?"

Simon shook his head, "I don't understand why I'm so sad. She was a bad person who was bad to me. She hurt me and made me as bad as her, maybe worse. Why would I care that she's gone?"

"It doesn't matter why. You do, and that's gotta be okay, because you obviously can't control it. Let yourself feel whatever you need to and try to get better for you. In the meantime, I wasn't playing about that turducken. You… can't let Grace try to take on something like that. She just started making edible food like… this year…"

He cackled and Grace peeked in, "Hey Ho Whoa! Is my loveman feeling better?" He caught her eye and forced a smile. She knew it was fake, but it was the first he'd tried in weeks, so she felt better. Simon forced himself into the kitchen that week to make Thanksgiving happen. Grace and Hazel followed whatever instructions he gave for additional help, and after he was actually up and about making himself useful and spending time with his favorite two people, he felt better too.

This year, he was thankful for another year with them… "Oh God… I let our first anniversary slip by!"

"Simon… I don't know what day that was even."

"November 5th," Simon said. "Because that remember, remember the 5th of November rhyme was in my head…"

"Ohhhh." Grace winced and she bit her lip. "I mean… it makes sense you forgot… the day started with your mom…" Simon frowned. That was the same day?

"SHE. RUINS. EVERYTHING!" he roared. Hazel squealed and fell to the floor. Simon got up and stormed out of the back door. Grace heard him screaming and hitting things and it had been a really long time since he did anything like that. Hazel was crying… so she wasn't a turtle. Grace helped her up and brought her to her room then went to check on Simon.

He was bound to snap, the way that he had been holding everything in all month. He was pacing and she stayed on the porch and observed. "Simon?"

He shook his head, "No. No, I'm not coming back inside like this. "She just… with her last breath had to take something else away from me…"

"She took nothing but her last breath, Si."

"That day can't be special without me having to think about her dying!"

Grace came down off the porch, "That day can be whatever we say it is, because we're still here. She's dead. Her power should be gone, Simon." She offered a smile, then asked, "Did I ever tell you about the first ceremony that Hazel and I ever attended together?" She explained meeting Hazel, and the way that she put everything to rest for her… "I think one of the main reasons that you can't get past this is because you felt like you were supposed to be giving her tribute. You felt like because you were sad and morning that that meant that you had to pay your respects. But when you tried you didn't find any. That's okay Simon. You don't have to pay respects. You could simply send her off with your truth. Whatever that is you've got to face it. you can't bottle everything in and then just explode like that in front of Hazel. She was terrified."

He looked guilty and sad as he rushed back in to apologize. Hazel took it well. And when he mentioned that ceremony of theirs, Hazel and Grace went back outside with him so that he could have his own. It was mostly accusations, frustrations, and some yelling… but he got it all off of his chest, the way that couldn't be done at a proper funeral. After that, he honestly and truly started feeling like his good self again.

By Christmas, as was hoped the previous year, Grace still had him in her life. They did Christmas at his house that year.

Next

[wayward-mikaelson]

Don’t Wake Me-Part Three (Dean’s POV)

Word Count: 1907

Pairing: Dean x Dream!Reader

Characters: Dean, Reader, Rowena, and Sam

Summary: Dean has a peaceful dream about the Reader who knows that she’s dead in the real world. Rowena gives Dean the recipe/spell for the tea with a warning. 

Disclaimer: Language

A/N: This was supposed to be out a couple days ago. So sorry but I had internet issues. 

*18+ Content. Anyone that is younger than 18 will need to scroll right on. I don’t want to risk my account being thanosed

**Please DO NOT copy and paste my work WITHOUT my permission and WITHOUT giving me the proper credit. I work way too hard on my work to have to stolen. You may share the link to this post.

***This work is also posted on Instagram, Wattpad, and AO3. Please go show it some love over there.

****Follow my other accounts Instagram, Twitter, Wattpad, and AO3

*****DMs are OPEN for REQUESTS

Story Inspired by Skillet’s song Don’t Wake Me. Click HERE to listen

Forever Tags: @donnaintx​ @myinconnelly1​ @hobby27​ @elansaidaris​ @magssteenkamp​ @440mxs-wife​

Dean/Jensen Tags: @akshi8278​ @squirrelnotsam​ @sandlee44​

Story Tags: @vicmc624​ @supernatural-bellawinchester​ @zug-zwangg​

STORY MASTERLIST

PART TWO

SHY’S FAVORITE FIC LIST

"What are you still doing sleeping? Come help me make breakfast."

It isn't the blanket being pulled off me that wakes me up.

It's the voice.

That perfect and beautiful yet, dominate voice.

My eyes snap open and there, standing at the foot of the bed with the blanket in her hand is YN. Alive. Smiling. She has that look in her eyes where if I don't get onto what she needs to, she will eat me alive. In a very not so sexy way. I can't help but stare at her and take her in.

She's wearing one of my flannels over one of her novelty shirts. I notice she isn't wearing any shorts or pants either. I look back at her face, her beautiful face. The way her lips are curved into that mischievous smile when she messed with someone. The little scrunch of her nose when something tickles it. Her big, beautiful  Y/E/C eyes as they stare into mine. Waiting for me to answer her. Her hair is thrown up into the bun being held together by her only hair band. Strands of hair fall perfectly around her face.

I wish I could wake up to this sight still. But this, her standing here, in this dream will have to do. It's better than nothing.

"Earth to Winchester," Her voice calls out to me again. "What are you staring at?"

"You," I say sitting up in bed. I notice I don't have a shirt on. I also notice the small little bite YN does to her lip. "You're so fucking beautiful, you know that?"

She looks down and I see her cheeks get pink. After years of her and I being together she always blushed when I told her she was beautiful. YN didn't have it easy growing up. Her mother left her and her father when she was four. Her father degraded her until she ran away from home. She had been on her own for some years until Sam and I saved her from a demon possession. She stuck with us since then. It wasn't until a case that we learned that she was never told she was beautiful or looked good. I made it my goal every, until the day she died, to tell her that she was beautiful.

"You can say it once more," YN drops the blanket and climbs on the bed and straddle my lap. She takes my face in my hands and I can't help but wish this were real. I close my eyes and focus on her touch. "So, are you going to help me with breakfast? And by that, I mean you cooking the bacon how I like it."

I open my eyes to see the those Y/E/C staring into mine. I wrap my arms around her and pull her closer to me, pressing my lips to hers. Her lips are as soft as I remember.  "Of course," I say pulling back.

"Awesome," YN jumps off the bed and walks out of the room. I watch her and catch a glimpse of her flower tattoo that sits on the back part of her thigh. Then I notice that we aren't in the bunker. We are at one of Bobby's old hunting cabins. The one YN and I always escape to when we need to unwind after a hard case.

I get up and get dressed. I walk out to the main part of the cabin and see YN working at the old stove. She's got the eggs going and she's cut up some strawberries. I stand there and watch her move around the kitchen.

This is the first time I don't feel like my chest has a gaping hole in it.

This is the first time I can breath and not feel like I'm going to fall apart.

This is the first time I feel normal.

YN turns around to see me standing and staring at her. "What is with you this morning?" She smiles and gives a light chuckle. "Was the sex that good?" She laughs out loud. "Of course it was, I did that thing that you absolutely love." She pulls the bacon out of the old fridge that I continue to fix up and keep running. She sets it on the counter and goes back to her cooking.

"I guess your reward for doing such thing is making the bacon you like," I pick up the bacon and bring it over to the stove. I have an idea of what move she's talking about.

We eat breakfast in peace and decide to take a walk around the woods. This is something that YN always loved to do whenever we came out here. Watching her take in the nature around her pulls at my heart. I'm going to miss her terribly again when I wake up.

YN turns around and the look on her face tells me that she knows somethings up. She walks over to me and takes my hands and looks into my eyes. "I was wondering when that would catch up with us."

"What?" I ask hoping she didn't know that this was a dream.

She laughs. "Dean Winchester, don't play me." She raises a hand to my face. "I know this is a dream. I know I'm dead out there. And it's not your fault. So if you remotely think it is, you know I'll figure it out and come back and kick the shit out of your ass."

I smile and let go of the breath I am holding in. "I don't want to wake up," I whisper. I touch her face. She leans into it and sighs.

"I know, but I will always be right here," YN touches my chest and my head. "When you sleep next, I'll be waiting."

The dream fades to black and soon I find myself waking up. I'm in my room on my bed. I grab my phone and realize it's the next day. My body feels well rested. But I can't help but feel the aching in my chest still. Its different like part of the hole is closing off. I drop my head on my pillow and just replay the dream in my head.

YN had been so beautiful and I miss her already.

There a slight knock at the door and it opens. Sam steps in and sees that I'm awake. "Hey," He says with a smile on his face. "I was just checking on you. How did you sleep?"

"To be honest, great," I say sitting up and swinging my legs to the side of the bed. "I feel really well rested." We sit in silence for a while. I know what Sam must be thinking. He doesn't have to say it. It's written all over his face. "She was there, Sam. She was fucking gorgeous man. I felt like she never left."

Sam looks up. "I'm happy man, I really am. Does that mean you've let her go?"

I look down at the ground. "No Sam, it means that I can slowly process and accept her death. Then when the time comes, I'll let her go. So no burning things unless I give the okay."

I get up and walk out of the room. I make my way to the kitchen cause I'm starving like a motherfucker. I open the fridge and stare at the contents. Eggs. Bacon. Sams rabbit food. I reach in and pull out the bacon. I set it on the counter and grab a pan and set it on the stove . Turning around, I nearly have a heart attack seeing the familiar red headed witch sipping on coffee.

"Fuck," I hold one hand to my chest and the other on the edge of the counter. "Rowena, how long have you been sitting there?"

"No very long dear," she sets her mug down and folds her hands. "You look very well rested. But not your soul. Don't worry," she sees the shock on my face. "The death of a loved one takes time to get over. I will leave the recipe for the tea to help you sleep whenever you need it. But don't drink too much of it in one day. Too much will start to slow your body down and kill you."

Rowena stands up and walks over to me. She slips a paper into my hands and pats my hand. "Um, thank you," I say. I'm not sure what to do with this, I think. I put the paper in my pocket and get back to making my food.

After Rowena leaves in the early evening, Sam goes out for a supply run.

"Do you want to tag along?" He asks before walking out of the bunker.

"Nah," I say opening up my laptop. "I think I'm going to scroll through and find us a case." Total lie of course.

"Okay," Sam walks out. I wait until he and the impala are gone for awhile before heading to the infirmary and grabbing what I need for the tea. A lot of it called for healing and sleeping herbs and then a few things from the kitchen spice cabinet that YN always used when she was alive. That's one of many, many things I am going to miss.

YN was the best cook ever. Aside from the bacon she could never get it right. She knew how to season and grill meat to perfection. Even her crock pot meals were the bomb. She always saved them in a small book so she could use them later. I open the drawer that the book sits in and pull it out.

I open the book to where paper is sticking out and see the words Deans B-day Dinner and Pie. I cover my mouth and feel some tears form in the corner of my eyes. I've been so caught up in loosing YN that I realized my birthday came and went without me knowing. I close the book and set it back in the drawer. I take a deep breath and move onto my room with the cup in hand.

I sit on my bed and stare at the cup on the nightstand next to me. I really don't need it, but I really want to see YN. Being in that dream world made everything seem so normal. It also helped me get through the day and I didn't once pour myself a drink. But Rowena's warning rings through my ears.

If I drink too much, I could die.

I pull out my pocket knife and press the blade to the palm of my hand when I feel a slight cool breeze on my arm. I stop and look around and spot that my AC vent was open and thought that the AC kicked on. I shake my head and cut a small but deep enough cut to drop a few drops of blood into the cup. I bring my hand over to the cup to find that it isn't there. I turn around and spot it on the dresser by the door.

"How did you get over there?"  I say out loud. "Maybe I'm loosing my mind." I pick the cup up and sit back on the bed and squeeze my hand so a few drops fell into the cup. I swirl the liquid around and say the small latin incantation. Then I take a huge drink.

Before passing out, I swear I see a flicker of YN standing in my room.

[brooklyn-1918]

Day 11

Characters: OC Angel Moore and Bruce Banner

Warnings: Fluff, possibly minor language

A/N: Send an ask or leave in the comments if you would like to be tagged.

If you would like to read the previous day’s story, you can read it HERE

If you would like to read the background to the OC Angel Moore, you can read it HERE

“This shouldn't be this hard,” Bruce sighed, taking off his glasses, and rubbing his face. “Oh, come on, Brucie bear. It’s not like it’s rocket science!” Angel said brightly. The scientist looked at her through his fingers, and turned to lean his back against the counter. 

“No, but it is chemistry,” He admitted. “See! Chemistry! Use one of your unreasonably many PhDs, or something.” She shrugged. Bruce dropped his hands away from his face and gave her a slightly slack jawed look. 

“Seven. I have seven of them and not a single one of them was for this,” He grumbled, reaching behind himself to pick up an apple. Angel shrugged, cinnamon in one hand, apple cider recipe in the other.

Bruce looked over his shoulder to the pot, sitting and bubbling on the stove top. They had somehow managed to end up with applesauce. Close, but no cigar. Then he looked to the crock pot that Sam had let them borrow, apple slices piled to the top. 

Correction… Burned apple slices, piled to the top. How did they do that? Bruce didn’t know, and was in no real mood to try and figure it out. 

“All I wanted was some cider. Nice and warm. Drink it with a nice book in hand. And what do I get?” Bruce asks, throwing his hands up in exasperation. Angel looks over at him, and after a moment, gives a shrug.

“I get you, saying that we should make some for ourselves,” He explains. Angel smiled innocently at him, walking to the island, and pushing herself up to sit on top of it. 

“Well, this has been a good learning experience. Isn’t that what you scientists like to do? Learn?” She jokingly asks. Bruce looked at her, blinking a few times. He opened his mouth, then shut it, crossing one arm over his chest, and placing his other hand over his mouth and chin. 

“Scientists like to come to conclusions.”

“Well, you should conclude that neither of us can cook. See?” He rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help but smile. Angel swung her legs, tapping her heels on the cabinet under her. 

They were silent for a few minutes, lost in their own thoughts. An idea dawned on Angel, and she slid off the counter, going to stand in front of the doctor. 

“Hey Bruce, you know what doesn't require a PhD?”

“A lot of things, I would imagine,” He said. Angel ignored him. 

“Driving to the store,” She said, grinning.

Permanent Tags:

@wildefire​

24 Days Tags:

@im-a-light-child​ @nomadicpixel​

[fanciful-of-life]

Rubber Ducky You’re The One

Bobby stood at the kitchen counter cutting up the vegetables for the stew to simmer for the dinner he was making that night.The December Fall Season had vastly approached the Los Angeles area and it was a particularly chilly day.

It fit the mood of the firehouse.

Hen, although under mandatory investigation because of the parents of the young girl in the car wanted one, was not her usual sunny self but still able to take shifts. She may put up an armor of unbreakable badassery but on the inside she is just as fragile as any other caring human. It was an accident. Green light or not. Unfortunately not everyone understands the law of clearing the way for emergency vehicles. Either that or they’re just not listening out for them. She had her fire fam to lean on, most of all Athena. Karen was trying but she still had her own depression to work through. He wasn’t worried as much about her though. Although he cared for all his subordinates the same, he knew she would pull through because that was what Hen does because she learned a long time ago it’s what she had to do to keep surviving. He did have soft spots for certain ones though. Hen being Athena’s long time friend being one of the reasons she was one of his.

Chim, bless him, was doing his best to up his regular Chimness for her.

Buck, it was the the kid he was worried about the most though. He has been way too quiet the past month. Unnaturally quiet for Buck. He’s been there for Hen. Supporting her, talking her back behind the wheel of the ambulance, sitting in the passenger seat as he goes on non-emergency test drives with her.

It had finally come to a head when “The stubborn little shit” to quote Hen, said he’d be happy to drive as Buck got behind the wheel ahead of Chimney when the call siren blared. Hen’s reply of “Like hell are you driving my baby” ended with him riding in his usual spot of the front passenger seat with her instead of the truck had done it as she told Buck in Chimney’s words “You’re an annoying little ass.”

It was that moment Bobby realized what Buck actually brought to the team. Eddie had joked in the truck Bobby’s dad was showing, not even realizing he had a proud dopey smile on his face before schooling his features and going back into Captain mode but Eddie smiled at him saying he was proud of Buck, too.

Bobby had many realizations about Buck this past month.

When he turned around after they pronounced the girl dead, with Athena holding onto Hen as her wails made a symphony of grief in the wind, he saw his eyes. Haunted. Like he knew Hen would never be the same. He’d seen those eyes in the mirror before but never on the kid. That was the moment he learned more about Evan Buckley than he had in the two and a half years he’d been working with him. Even after the lawsuit and a morning in the ER before going to breakfast. It was a moment Buck let his guard down and Bobby learned what a good actor Buck truly is.

All three were surrounding the kitchen island as he chopped. Buck even helping peel and cut potatoes. Bobby learned another thing about Buck in that moment as he snuck a peak as he used the peeler at breakneck speed. Buck was letting his guard down and forgetting to act the part Bobby finally figured out he created.

The look on Maddie’s face at Thanksgiving when Buck jokingly called Athena Mama Nash made Bobby pause thinking maybe it wasn’t really the joke Buck was trying to make it out to be.

Evan Buckley knew his way around a kitchen. There was a story there. One Buck had not and maybe would never share like he had the bartender and Navy Seals.

He suddenly felt a sense of déjà vu. When two of the same three were surrounding the kitchen island but that time it was Buck they were concerned about. This time he knew it was Eddie that was on Buck’s mind.

Eddie wasn’t in just yet, his counseling session scheduled for this morning. After their talk Bobby offered him the day off but he refused. He needed to work. In that moment he sounded just like another certain one of his boys. Bobby started sautéing the meat in the crock pot and without hesitation Buck tossed in some flour.

Now Bobby was really worried. He never taught Buck this recipe. He was starting to wonder if the “cooking lessons” Buck wanted a few years ago was just really the need of some one on one time. He was also starting to wonder after that conversation in the ER about Buck feeling like his firefighter uniform was a costume that made him feel like he was making a difference was a cry much like Eddie’s. When was the kid going to finally figure it out? Bobby had told him he didn’t need a costume to be a hero, two people were alive because of him. The idea that Buck single handily helped keep so many people alive during a tsunami. Bobby couldn’t have been prouder. Which lead to the fiasco of a dinner after Buck made Fire Marshall, deciding light duty was better than no duty.

He knew he shouldn’t have lied to Buck. The department had cleared him to return but it was Bobby himself that suggested light duty. The picture of Buck lying under a fire truck giving him nightmares. After seeing him on the crutches in the cast the day of Eddie’s party he felt the guilt punch his gut, Buck had been a liability to his past which lead him to say to hell with it, life is is too short, and going home to Athena to get married right then. He also swore Buck wouldn’t be another liability because of him.

Bobby had been waiting for it for a month now. Knew it was coming. Chim had already mentioned it to him on many occasions. He had seen the looks Buck would throw towards Eddie. Even before Bobby found out about the street fighting and their talk.

“Something is going on with Eddie.”

And there it was, finally.

Buck was taking his frustrations out on the potatoes. Which impressed Bobby how perfectly cubed they were and maybe scared him a bit at the speed the knife was going. Trust. Bobby maybe worried but he had to show trust to rebuild trust lost. Plus, the kid knew how to hold a knife the right way. By the end of the blade where it connects to the handle with his thumb, fore and middle finger grasping it and not wrapping his hand around the handle itself for better control. He never showed him that. Or how to keep his fingers bent on the other hand to use as a guide.

Yeah, the kid did some time in a kitchen. Buck was still a wet behind the ears twenty something when he came to the 118 that let his emotions get the best of him, or so Bobby thought. That was what made Buck, Buck.

Bobby should have known better to think that the kid was just ego tripping and on a mission of self destruction. Known the moment Buck’s fist hit the table that he had made a grave error. The memory of Buck’s face when he helped him with his tie before his date with Abby. Like nobody had taken the time to ever show him they cared.

Maddie had lost touch with her brother, that much he knew. They barely spoken for long periods of time. Chimney let him in on that Buckley family acknowledgement. Maddie had been mum so far on any other family knowledge. Part of it had been Doug. Part of it had been Maddie leaving when Buck was still a young teenager. He could fit the pieces together. He knew enough people with shit dads. Like Eddie had told him. He didn’t feel like he was enough. How did he miss that with Buck when he himself had gone through the same thing?

That’s the thing with trauma though, isn’t it? Everyone’s is different but in the end the results are the same. It’s why Buck “the little shit” got Hen back behind the wheel. No matter how many talks she had with Athena, trauma causes scars. Buck didn’t want Hen anymore scar tissue than she already had.

Bobby wished he had thought about that the day he talked to Buck in the hospital and how much scar tissue had been added from his actions. Buck may have the dumb act down to a “T” but Bobby wonders sometimes if the kid isn’t smarter than he is.

Much like that conversation he had with the three about Buck that warm day, with him staring Eddie in the eyes that time. This time it was Buck looking at him like he had all the answers. When did he miss that? Too caught up feeling betrayed. When did he miss the fact Buck saw him as the dad he should have had?

“Eddie has us and he has people that care about him enough to help him understand they care.”

Buck looked down for a moment, then back up at Bobby. Nodding his head that he got the message. It was Buck’s turn to push this time.

A week later Eddie walked into the station. He’s had two sessions a week with the counselor and goes every other day to talk to the priest Bobby introduced him to the day they talked. Sitting his duffle down he sees a rubber duck, the kind a kid would play with in the bath tub on the top shelf of his locker by his helmet.

Letting out a chuckle and finding himself smiling, he picks it up sitting on the bench as he tosses it from hand to hand.

“Well, that’s something I haven’t seen in weeks.” His smile grows wider as the one person he knew would leave a gift like this voice comes from behind him.

Straddling the bench he half turns to look at Buck, already in uniform, hands in his pockets. Eyes surveying his face, what skin he could see, his knuckles, noticing he can turn but mostly Eddie’s movements. Eddie’s long sleeve henley and jeans covering his arms and legs.

“Christopher is going to Love this.” Eddie says standing back up he gently sits the rubber duck back by his helmet as he takes off his shirt. He can feel Buck’s eyes on his back, it clicked with Eddie then. Buck was looking for bruises.

“It’s not for Christopher.”

Eddie pauses with the shirt covering his face and a muffled “What?”

Taking the shirt off, Buck does a quick survey of Eddie’s chest as he does so before slipping on his button up.

“It’s for you.”

Eddie is used to changing in front of Buck and he knows something is up so he kicks off his sneakers and drops his jeans, showing no bruises on his legs.

Pulling on his pants Eddie buckles his belt asking “And just why do I need a rubber duck? I’m a little old for bath play time.” Okay, that sounded a bit more suggestive than he meant.

Buck smirks “Who could possibly be in a bad mood when holding a rubber ducky? Rubber Ducky, you’re the one.” Buck sings the last part. Fairly well to Eddie’s surprise.

Eddie is back in the bench tying his boots when he pauses. “Bobby?”

“No. Whatever you confided in him he didn’t share. I know signs of fighting when I see them. Plus, the bruised ribs at Halloween.”

“How did you know? I made sure not to change in front of anyone.”

“You pulled away.” Buck sat down next to Eddie. “I was hoping you would tell me yourself about the street fighting. I kept dropping hints with everyone. Saying I think something is going on with you, hoping it would get back to you and you would come talk to me. I didn’t realize how much I screwed that up, even if you forgave me. You used to tell me everything.”

“How could you tell I was street fighting?”

“I’m observant.”

“Evan….”

“I know what street fighting looks like.”

“Evan Buckley.”

“I wanted to be a pediatrician. I got into the pre-med program at Pen State. Full scholarship. It was my out from home. I love kids. Wanted to help them. While other kids partied I read every medical book and journal I could get my hands on. I had to hide them though.”

“Buck why are you sitting in a fire station instead of being in a residency program?”

“I used to be really skinny. Wasn’t very athletic. Played the guitar and piano. I was hoping I could give Chris lessons. He should’ve have limits. He told me on the pier the day of the tsunami he wanted to be a firefighter. I know you hated me during the lawsuit but I swore to myself even if he were only a Fire Marshall I would move heaven and hell to get him on the LAFD if he still wanted that. I’d support him in anything, you know that right?”

“I know and those music lessons, that sounds like a good idea.”

“Piano. He’d be good at the piano.”

“Okay and why do I have a feeling you already bought him one for Christmas?”

“Because much like I know you, you know me.”

A moment of silence.

“I was jealous. Of Shannon. One day she just appeared and you were back with her. Even though I was holding onto Abby when I knew I shouldn’t have been. That need to not let things go. To hold onto something. Hope for something, even if it isn’t there. I even started dating Ali to get my mind off you with Shannon. When she asked you for the divorce and you called me that night wanting to meet up I was a selfish prick that was glad she was going to be out of yours and Christopher’s lives. Real asshole move. Then I saw her on the ground at the accident sight and I knew what it would do to you. I’m not in a residency program because my dad found the Pen State letter. Laughed at me. Told me I was an idiot to think I could ever make it as a doctor. Being first in my class, skipping a grade. Still wasn’t good enough for him to stop calling me worthless every night at dinner.”

Eddie looked at Buck’s profile thinking about the lawsuit. How on Halloween he told Buck he made Cap out to be the bad guy when in Buck’s mind it was reliving a father figure telling him he was too worthless to be a firefighter. Those emotions of his getting in the way of rationality. Reality was Eddie ended up doing the same thing. Just in a different way.

He listened on as Buck started up again. “I had this one friend, Jefferey, Jeff. He got me. My dreams. My mind. Everything. Maddie had stopped checking in as much by then. I already knew what Doug was doing to her. I wanted to protect her from him but my skinny ass couldn’t even protect myself. One night Jeff came over to study and he kissed me. I liked it. Of course that was when my dad decided to come into my room. He threw Jeff out. Forbade me to see him. Took me to church to “pray the gay away” why I do go now, haven’t stepped in one in years. They sent me to a “special” summer camp. Convinced me I was screwed up. So, I started to sleep around with any girl that would put out. Until Abby. After my father burned the scholarship letter from Pen State I just said screw it. Got odd jobs when I was supposed to be in school clubs. I graduated. Packed my bags and the day I turned eighteen I took the cash I had saved up and left while my parents were at work. You see Eddie. I get it. That feeling of not being enough. I wasn’t enough for med school. My parents. Even Abby, I know she loved me but I wasn’t enough for her to stay. Enough for Ali to get why being a firefighter is important. I wasn’t enough for the Navy Seals. Top in my class except my emotions kept getting in the way. I know about street fighting because when you’re a bartender in South America you see shit. The guy in charge helped me learn to fight but he never put me in the ring. Told me I reminded him of his son. He died before I left. The only time I stepped foot in a church. One of the fighters decided he wanted to be in charge and killed him. So, yeah I was worried shitless about you. When I got back to the states, I was in Texas, helped out a fire company one day. The Captain of the squad told me I had a gift. Somehow I ended up here. Went to the academy. Came to the 118 acting like a dumb jock. Then all the sudden I wasn’t enough for the 118 anymore. I heard Bosko call you Diaz, saw her name taped over mine. Then I was at dinner with Cap and Athena but in my head my dad was sitting there and I was a teenager again. You don’t have to tell me you started fighting because you didn’t feel like enough, Eddie because I know you.”

It was then the call siren rang. Eddie stood up grabbing his gear as Buck did the same. When he turned around he saw a stoned face Bobby watching Buck’s back. Bobby shook his head no at Eddie, turning around to get in the truck.

It was the standard car accident. Bobby worried about Hen but Buck was already on it being an annoying little brat around Hen. He was distracting her. Both drivers made it out alive, although the one at fault was a complete ass. The other being transported to the hospital with Hen asking Chimney how he could want to be related to Buck on purpose one day. Bobby and Chim exchanging knowing looks.

When they got back to the station Bobby went to check the stew while Buck and Eddie put away their gear. Eddie was having that craving to fight. He would have to visit the church this afternoon. Then he saw it, sitting on the top shelf. The rubber duck and he could feel himself smiling. The craving disappearing. Rubber Ducky you’re the one suddenly jingling in his head.

Buck had told him he was enough.

“So, does that make you Burt and me Ernie?” Eddie asks him.

“Dork.”

“Come over for pizza. We can pick out a place to put that piano you bought my kid without asking.”

“Like you would have said no.” Buck huffed.

Bumping shoulders with the rubber duck in Eddie’s hand, he felt a warmth in his chest. Buck made him feel like enough. His counselor had called him out on it once but he changed the subject.

Now it was his turn to return the favor.

Buck was more than enough for him.

And when they started calling each other Burt and Ernie on occasion, nobody really questioned it.

[duallygirl178]

Dearest O'Malley chapter 19

Chapter 19

That afternoon while Gonzo, Robin and I were making homemade ginger rose chewy candy for Sweetie-Pie and her two friends. I went back in time of my memory. My mother would make rose ginger chewy candy for also whenever I had girlfriends over and sometimes I didn’t know what to give her to show her how much I loved her. Well today, I was making something sweet. Gonzo and Robin were helping me by picking roses off the rose bush while I added in the ingredients to an electric crock pot. I thought about my romantic night from last night as I stirred the pot. I thought how great it was and then some. I romantically drifted way off thinking about Sweetie-Pie. I trailed off with a song called “why” by Frankie Avalon. Her smile gave me bubbles again and while I was thinking about her, I could almost hear her calling my name. right away I snapped out of it the second time my name was called. It was sudden that someone said; “Hey!” I came out of my thoughts and said; “Huh? What? Did someone  say something?” it appeared to be Robin who was calling my name. I wasn’t paying attention. Robin gave me a smirk and said; “Oh never mind. You’re lost in your own thoughts with Sweetie-Pie.” Gonzo was looking at me with dopey eyes. He smiled and said; “you know what I think?” I gave Gonzo a clueless look and said; “What?” Gonzo right away said; “I think it’s time to turn off the crock-pot. You‘ve been stirring it for 30 minutes.” I looked at the stuff in the electric pot quickly turned it off, and said; “I guess I was thinking about Sweetie-Pie. I really love her and don’t know how I feel about her.” I set the  wooden spoon down and expected a response  as Gonzo added the next ingredient into the crock-pot to let it simmer. He tasted it and said; “have you told her how she makes you feel young and googly? Tell her she makes you feel like the Fat Albert Character; Mush-Mouth…I’m talking about speechless and trying to communicate. Try making her laugh by doing impressions of something.” I giggled and said; “How does she make me feel like Mush-mouth? What? I haven‘t seen Fat Albert in 20 years. I don‘t know what he sounds like.” Robin demonstrated for me and impersonated a perfect Mush-mouth without laughing. I chuckled and Robin said; “first, you get all loose but be honest. You don’t want to say the wrong things. Tell Sweetie-Pie that she makes you happy.”  I rolled my eyes with a smile and said; “You guys are ridiculous. You’re going to make me look stupid.” Gonzo  sighed and said; “well, how would you handle it?” I took a minute to think. It took me a while to come to the right answer and I said; “I ‘d surprise her with her favorite things like red roses and picnics in the park.”

Earlier I remembered something that Sweetie-Pie told me.  In two weeks, it will be her 52 birthday. I had to make her  something special for her birthday. She told me she wanted to have a picnic at the park at Brookside. As Robin Gonzo and I were making the chew candy into squares, I set aside 8 candies for Sweetie-Pie. Then I thought about what would be good to drink since it will be a nice warm sunny day that week. Robin took the empty crock-pot and the rest of the stuff we were using inside to be washed. When he got back, I asked him; “If you were celebrating your sweetheart’s birthday, what would you bring? What drink would you carry if she wanted  to have a picnic?” Robin tilted his eyes, thought a moment, squinted and said; “Oh…something  deep dish and rich in flavor. Like a deep-dish pizza and apple cider…or maybe an appetizer of cheddar cheese and rice crackers with white wine.” Gonzo was chewing a piece of breath gum and popping it in his mouth. He looked at me and said; “You know what I’d take for my sweetie if it was her birthday in the park?” It’s as if Gonzo was listening to the conversation. I pondered and said; “What?” Gonzo took a deep breath and said; “I’d take hot club sandwiches and red wine.” Robin disagreed and said; “No, no. club sandwiches will never do. It has to be a three course meal. I’d advise taking a salad, breadsticks, and beef brisket with champagne with strawberry cheesecake.” I snickered, closed my eyes, and shook my head as if to say ‘ oh boy, you guys’. I cut in while Robin and Gonzo argued. I had my own  idea in store. I sighed and said; “guys, guys. I have a plan on what to take for the picnic. I’ll surprise her.” I remembered Sweetie-Pie telling me her favorite foods were; Mexican rice, soft taco tortillas horchata and banana cream pie. Robin looked at me, smiled and said; “oh yeah, what do you  propose you would take on a picnic?” smiling,  I gently tapped Robin’s Chevy logo and said; “Sweetie-Pie  loves Mexican food. I had an idea where I could take her Mexican rice, soft tortilla tacos, horchata and banana crème pie.” Robin and Gonzo looked at me and looked at each other. They started muttering back and forth in agreement. Robin smiled and said; “you think she’ll like it?” I winked at Robin and said; “Oh yeah. She would love me forever.”

The day before Sweetie-Pie’s birthday, I cooked everything that I planned that I was going to cook. Natalie helped me  while I  read a recipe book and even helped me get a banana crème pie from the store that evening.  The next day, it was Sweetie-Pie’s birthday and everything was all set. Sweetie-Pie came over, gave me a kiss, and told me she brought over a picnic basket in case I didn’t have one. As I was putting food in Tupperware, Natalie slipped in a bouquet of roses in the basket. She secretly bought them while we were at the store. I almost forgot and luckily I was glad Natalie remembered. I put the chewy candy inside the basket.  And Sweetie-Pie and I got going. We looked for a spot in the grass that would be nice. Then, Sweetie-Pie and I had a seat under a tree which was shady. Sweetie-Pie set out the blanket while I placed out our meal. I started with the flowers to give to her. When she made eye contact with me as I smiled and said; “for you, my sweetheart.” she joyfully gasped and said; “oh these are beautiful. Thank you, O’Malley” she delightfully  took them, smelled them and gave me a kiss. She really loved  them. As we set out the food, Sweetie-Pie’s reaction  got bigger and bigger with joy. Finally, as we got the food served to the both of us, I poured us each some horchata and said; “Happy birthday darling.” Sweetie-Pie smiled and said; “thank you, honey.  You thought if everything. You never quit to amaze me.”  I chuckled liking  the comment. Read her a poem I made up and in a few seconds, we started eating. Sweetie-Pie told me, she loved the food I prepared and everything was perfect. About 20 minutes later, we shared the ginger rose chewy candy together. It was a really nice warm day and boy was I glad I planned a perfect picnic as Sweetie-Pie was enjoying the candy, she looked at me and said; “Wow, these taste as good as I expected. What did you do? Roll them  in powdered sugar?” I giggled and said “That’s exactly what I did.”  Sweetie-Pie gave me a kiss and said; “Very good. After lunch, we should go for a drive around the pond and give some corn to the ducks.” I smiled back and said; “That’s a good idea.”

After we finished the candy, we strolled around the pond and fed corn to the ducks for an hour. Next we packed up and we drove to Sweetie-Pie’s house. It was already evening around six o’clock. We realized we spent four hours on the clock at the park. I had a great time. While I was there, we got a movie set up on her TV to watch. We  planned to watch a 1960s movie that she was a fan of. Sweetie-Pie made a bowl of popcorn and once it was done, we had a seat and played the movie. I didn’t know it was “American Graffiti”  and strangely, I remembered watching it a lot, many years ago. It too was another favorite movie of mine. During the movie, we played around by having a popcorn fight, and laughed because it was fun. After the movie, we cuddled up and didn’t know we fell asleep for a while. We woke up 20 minutes later and talked. I was telling her that Fat Albert and The Cosby Kids  was  my favorite show as a kid. I asked her if she wanted to hear an impression of the character; “Dumb Donald” she told me she did. So I started to do it, but messed up. She laughed and told me it was almost good. I told her she makes me feel warm and I told her she was special because she meant a lot to me. She liked that and she gave me a kiss.

[nancypullen]

Gobble Gobble

Are you ready for Thanksgiving? Does your house smell fabulous or are you packing your stretchy pants to go to dinner elsewhere?  Are you skipping the whole mess and just enjoying an extra day off?  Whatever you may be doing on this third week of November, I hope it’s good for your soul.  Whether it’s a crowd around the table or a solitary walk through the autumn woods, take a moment to soak it up and be grateful. If you’re struggling on this holiday, maybe just be thankful that this too shall pass.   “The Pilgrims made seven times more graves than huts. No Americans have been more impoverished than these who, nevertheless, set aside a day of thanksgiving.”   -   H. U. Westermayer I’ve had a bit of a topsy-turvey year and I’m feeling deeply grateful for my family.  My hiccups have been minor compared to what so many others face but, holy cow, has my family shown me love and support.  I’m so humbled by the dear people in my life, my friends and family are absolutely beyond compare.  I have no idea how or why I’m so fortunate, so all I can offer is gratitude.  Mine is bottomless. I’m one lucky duck.

Today I’m preparing sort of a mini-feast.  The Edgewater gang traveled down to Tennessee to spend Thanksgiving with Jamie’s family ( they’ll be here for Christmas!).  Matt flew in from Minneapolis on Saturday and he’s been working a lot from here, Zoom meetings and tapping away day and night. He needs a break.  So since it’s just the three of us, I’m making Ina Garten’s herb-roasted turkey breast rather than a big ol’ bird. It’s a wonderful recipe, tried and true. I’ve also made a couple of family favorites, sweet potato casserole with that yummy pecan and brown sugar topping,  cheesy hash brown casserole, ranch crescent rolls, dressing, and a little apple pie (not gonna lie, the pie is from a bakery). That’s about half of what I’d usually make and it still seems excessive. Tomorrow should be easy though - the turkey breast won’t take long and with just a couple of dishes to pop in the oven it’ll be a breeze.   I’m really going to miss the bacon-wrapped green bean bundles, those are my favorite.  Also the cranberry-orange-walnut relish stuff - I’m not sure it has a name, but I love it.  I couldn’t care less about the casseroles.  Thankfully I still don’t have much of an appetite, so I’ll probably nibble on the turkey and crunch on some celery sticks.   For tonight’s dinner I’ve got teriyaki chicken in the crock pot.  It’s a super simple recipe, I don’t think it’s actually teriyaki - just an easy substitute.  Basically chop up some chicken breasts, throw them in the crock pot with honey, soy sauce, and garlic and wait four hours.  When there’s about 30 minutes left I’ll put some jasmine rice in the rice cooker and let it do its thing.  Add some broccoli and you’re done! Easy peasey.   Since I seem to be rambling about food, here’s some breaking news - we got a new front door!  The original door was kind of pretty, but seemed awfully flimsy.  We never liked it.  We’d shopped around a bit and picked one that we liked, and yesterday was our installation date.  I love it!

I really love that it’s got a keypad entry like our door in Tennessee.  One more thing checked off the long list of improvements we’re making to this place.  That staircase to the right is on the list too.  I’d love to tear up the old (awful) carpet and paint the stairs before installing a runner.  I’d love to sand and stain that wood to more closely match the floors.   Still, it’s a pretty door and I’m loving it.  It’s white right now, but I’ll paint the exterior side.  The color I’ve chosen is City Rain.  It’ll match the shutters.

I thought long and hard about picking a pale pink shade, but I went with a color that will look good in every season.  That shade of gray will look just as good with autumn’s orange and gold as it will with bright red at Christmas or pink blooms in the summer.   Gotta’ go with what works. Speaking of Christmas, I picked up the cutest bit of wall art this week.  How jolly is this guy?

He was on clearance at Kirkland’s and I had a coupon for an extra 20% off.  He came home with me for about $28. When the tree goes up and we deck the halls, he’ll hang above that entry table by the door.   Yep, I’m gettin’ my jingle on and Santa is my homeboy.  We go way back (North Pole High School, Class of ‘81!).

That small, blurry person in the candy cane striped scarf is moi - cheering my heart out for North Pole High School in North Pole, Alaska.  I had to dig to find a color photo (how sad is that?).  The lovely girl beside me is Tracey, still every bit as cute and now a long-distance Facebook friend. I couldn’t find a photo that clearly displayed the big “NP” on our sweaters, One year we just had “Patriots”  (our high school was built in 1976).

I’m sharing these semi-embarrassing photos to prove that my Christmas spirit runs deep.  We used to answer letters to Santa as part of our English grade.  Letters from all over the world made their way to Santa’s house in North Pole - yes, it’s really there.  I went to school with Santa’s daughter and her name was (no kidding) Merry Christmas Miller.  She eventually married and became Merry Key, I think.  Not quite the same impact.  Anyway, we’d answer letters for a grade.  There was a format that we had to follow, couldn’t make promises and that sort of thing.  But it sure kept the magic alive for a bunch of teenagers.  All of these decades later (oh my gosh, 41 years??) I get the same sense of excitement when I start seeing twinkling lights on houses and Christmas tree lots.  I am so ready for holiday music, cookies, and FUN!  I’ve got all of the grandgirl’s gifts and I can’t wait for her to open them!  Once an elf from North Pole, always an elf from North Pole. This post has ping-ponged from Thanksgiving food to a new door to high school memories and Christmas.  Perfectly normal, right?  I should probably quit while I’m ahead.  It’s nearly time to dish up that crock pot chicken anyway.  I’ll sign off with a big holiday hug, and send out my sincere wish that your hearts are light and your minds are at peace.  I’m grateful for so much this year, and some of the lovely people I’ve met through this blog are on that list.  Thanks for stopping by. Stay safe, stay well, stay thankful.

Nancy