#or even bland shit tastes fine

[autogeneity]

what's with protein powder manufacturers and finding the worst fucking sweeteners known to man.

[hofudlaus]

Just finished netflixs Wednesday show and, spoilers ahead

I have mixed feelings about it, most of which I can look past n excuse since it's not really a type of show I enjoy normally anyway

BUT uhhh, can I just say,,,, it feels Very weird and Bad when,,, in the show thats all about, hey, monsters n weirdness should be accepted! That the big bad plot monster is like, made through trauma/torture (and is then controlled by the person who makes them) and its the only monster that's never shown any compassion??

Before the twist with Tyler being into all the murder, where, as far as we knew, he is a victim of abuse and manipulation(if not full on mind control?(idk I don't fully remember what the lore was)),,, he's still treated like he's evil??

[izukusblkwife]

The taste of sweetend apple juice invades your tounge before you allow it to slip down your throat.

Another day with restless kids who want to be hero’s, famous colleagues, and stressing over papers to grade.

As much as you like to say you’d hate it, you couldn’t find it in your heart.

You looked at the clock as it continued to tick down time until it was time for you to go back to work.

You were in the break room enjoying a small lunch that you were barely able to pack this morning from how fast you were trying to rush out of the door.

You let out a content sigh, and picked out the bag of chips from your bag, grimacing when you notice what they are. “Ah shit.” You cursed under your breath.

Cheetos, and not the good ones, just the normal plain ones, you hissed angrily at the blatant orange packs with the tiger staring back you, mockingly.

Throwing the fifth back into your lunchbox, suddenly the break room door opened to reveal colleague, and crush.

You suddenly became aware of your posture and appearance, smoothing out your hair before he shut the door with a grunt. He turned to look at you, his bright eyes lighting up. “Hey! I didn’t think anyone was in here! Sorry.” He chuckled nervously.

Acting like you didn’t know he was even there (you did) you smiled, “it’s fine, how’s work going?” You asked before taking another bite of your sandwich.

He sat down, and pulled out his lunch box, you immediately noticed it was all might themed.

Cute

“It’s going fine, the kids are super excited for the hero stuff today.” He responded, while opening his lunchbox, revealing a beautifully prepared bento.

Before you could stop yourself you asked. “Did you make that?” He looked up slightly suprised, the apples of his cheeks glowing. “Uh yeah.”

You began to flush to, you didn’t mean to embarrass him if you did, “Sorry! I didn’t mean to make you feel weird about it.” You quickly apologized.

He looked up once again and then chuckled, “you didn’t, it just uh, kinda embarrassing when your lunch is all might themed.”

“I don’t think it is.” You responded softly, you didn’t think anything he could do would be embarrassing in your eyes, considering your infatuation with him.

His scarred hand stopped midway, “yeah?” He asked for confirmation. ���Yeah.” You confirmed.

He smiled and then continued to reach for a small sausage in his lunch box.

Izuku was so interesting to you, he was so open but so shy at the same time, there was so much you wanted to know about him.

You looked back up from your bland sandwich and to him, he was focused on getting another bite of food.

“Izuku.” You called out, he looked back up awaiting for you to speak again.

“Have you ever gotten everything you wanted?” You asked.

It was melancholy, the way his eyes softened, the way his body un-tensed in an almost instant.

“No—but I got really close.”

He responded, you continued to stare at him, his eyes holding some withheld sadness, as if he wouldn’t allow himself to feel it.

You didn’t fully understand, but you weren’t dumb, you’d always noticed it.

There was a time in your career, highschool to be exact, where izuku was everywhere, fighting along side his peers, at some point you began to admire him, because he was always so much stronger than you thought you could ever be.

But you weren’t dumb.

You noticed how he’d look at his friends.

The want, no, the need to be equal again.

Something feral and carnal inside him, even an idiot could notice it, how badly he wanted it.

How sad he looked when he knew he couldn’t.

Honestly you felt like it was torture, sitting him down in the very same classroom that got him to the point he’s at now.

But you knew he didn’t feel that way, everybody knew that.

Because even though he wasn’t equal, and how badly it hurt to have what he wanted most snatched away from him right at the cusp of his life.

Everyone knew he didn’t regret a thing, and that’s why you admired him so much.

Izuku Midoriya.

Bye I was trying not to sob while making this, GIVE HIM BACK HIS QUIRK NEOW! Anyway this was inspired by an edit I saw, it was so good

[live-laugh-legolas]

what are the spice tolerances of the fellowship? who snacks on ghost peppers without any reaction and who thinks black pepper is too spicy?

I was literally thinking about this the other day.

The Fellowship’s spice tolerance

Aragorn:

-He’s not great with spice

-He doesn’t get dramatic about it but his mouth is on fire

-The only reason he’s not great with spice is just not having it often

-He spends so much time in the wild; he’s not Sam who refuses to eat unseasoned food even in the middle of nowhere

-He is used to the blandest of bland food

-If he is served spicy food he will power through it because he’s too polite to ask for something else

Legolas:

-I will never give up my hc that he has literal grave mouth

-He will eat anything and be fine

-He might feel a bit of spice if he had a ghost pepper or something

-But he is less bothered by the spice and more just doesn’t get the point

-“why would I eat something that hurts?”

-He prefers to munch on poisonous berries he finds as they all walk that made Boromir have to shit every 15 minutes for a week

Gimli:

-I kinda wanted to say he isn’t good with spice because I could totally see him with the whole physical reaction to spice

-But he probably is the type to add hot sauce to literally everything

-So maybe he still gets real red and his nose runs

-But best believe he’s chowing down and having a great time

-Would risk his life for buffalo wings

Boromir:

-Surprisingly not bothered much

-Maybe not ghost peppers but normal to high levels of spice are fine

-However

-His mouth may be fine but his body is going to explode

-Don’t bother him about an hour later; he’s shitting literal fires of Mount Doom

-Send aid

-Never learns though and will continue to eat spicy food

Frodo

-It’s this one right here

-He’s the one who will munch on ghost peppers casually

-He likes the taste

-A ghost pepper is nothing to him

Sam:

-Not good with spice at all

-He gets all red in the face

-Nose running so much you would think the elvish river horses were coming

-He likes the taste; but he has a very strong reaction

-He would really like Flaming Hot Cheetos but it takes him a week to get through a whole bag

-And yes he’s crying the whole time but he won’t stop

Merry:

-He can tolerate a moderate amount of spice but he doesn’t really like it

-And I mean he doesn’t add spice to anything just for the sake of adding a kick

-He suffers through it a little but he does love Indian style food

-That shit rocks even if his mouth is starting to go numb

Pippin:

-I am indecisive about him

-On one hand I think he’s a sensitive little guy

-But he also loves to eat and won’t let some spice get in his way of a good meal

-So I’m going to rest on he is literally crying from the spice but won’t stop eating it; he’s hungry

-He won’t back down from being challenged to eat a ghost pepper

-Possibly needs medical assistance if he has too much spice

Gandalf:

-Nope

-Doesn’t even like mustard because he thinks that is too spicy

-Literally dies and comes back as a different version of Gandalf that’s how dramatic he is

-If it smells a little spicy he won’t even try it

[handmedaisies]

~ tw: incest, underage (peter is like seventeen).

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

They don't talk much. Peter holds back to what is necessary.

He’s been pining over Tony like a weirdo for months. Something has to be wrong with him. Figuring out how to nail down being an average son just dug a bigger hole for him. A trip to a brown planet that featured just the two of them and no one else, nor clothes to protect his own dignity, happens to be a very humbling experience on its own. Peter just figures, eventually, trusting his big mouth would lead them to a stinkier spot. But as the days go bland and Peter fosters a chronic case of tediousness, he mostly allows himself to relax. Besides, how much damage can he even do if he plays safe? “Here, I picked out of that tree.” He hands Tony something that looks to be a coconut, but it's squared rather than round. “Think it’s any safe?”

Immediately Tony stops fiddling with sticks and a rusty empty can to eye the fruit suspiciously. A very dad look. He hands it right back. “Throw it away.”

“I’ll just try it.” Peter rolls his eyes, cracking the shell under his palms. “If anyone can face new food that’s me.”

“Hah. Sure. My ass you’re eating that shit.” Tony sighs. “Throw it away. What are you doing?”

The man grows desperate once Peter bites into the fruit's pink insides. Tastes like the freshest apple. So sweet, tastier than the menu they still had aboard for maybe two more weeks. The time flies though, and Peter has no idea what will happen when they run out of food, then water, but no one really comes looking for them. He’s glad the fruit didn’t melt his mouth. Or whatever. Peter holds one hand in the air, his thumb popped up. “All good.” He blurts to his dad. “I didn’t die. Now we wait for a day. Maybe two.”

“What did you do?” Tony groans. “Throw up. Right now.”

“Dad. Look at me.” He complains with a jut of bottom lip. Not a whine at all. “I’m totally fine.”

The following moment he finds himself butt naked on his dad's lap after a firm tug on his wrist draws him in nearer and lessened their distance. “Sit.” Tony's grip on Peter's jaw is widening the door to the inside of his mouth. Peter can't help the dumb little noise when it leaps out of his lips, hoarse, a little needy. “Stick out your tongue.” Dad asks. Orders. Which is the wet dream material of the year for Peter. He literally moans. “Don’t tell me you swallowed it. Tasted good?”

“You, mmhm.” Peter hesitastes, spotting Tony with a foggy head and a bitch boner as his dad stares at his mouth, chest shuddering with heavy breathing. “You want a taste?”

[bitchapalooza]

"Who is she?"

Zoro cracked an eye open. "Hah?" He grumbled. "You're blocking the sun, twirly brows. Move it."

Instead of receiving a remark back, Zoro got something rudely shoved in his face instead. He repelled the cook's hands away with his own. "Well? Who is she, mosshead?"

Zoro squinted his eyes, nose scrunched as he darted from the blond to the bounty poster and photograph taken back in Water 7 before their departure. Closely focusing his sleepless eyes he finally saw what the cook was talking about. He shrugged, seeing no issue in the matter.

"Franky thought it was overexposure or something when copying the film at first but then she showed up in the other photos." Zoro's gaze lazily trailed off to the railing of the Sunny, where Usopp and Luffy were fishing(but not catching a single bite—a repeat of yesterday). There an apparition sat, a girl only Zoro has been gifted to see. She relaxed on the railing next to the boys, semi translucent, an aspect about her that has always screwed with Zoro's mind, being able to see through her and all, as foggy and unclear as it is.

"You know her." Sanji boldly claimed. Zoro shut his eyes and relaxed back onto his folded arms. "She's always around you."

"Cook," The name fell from his mouth like molasses. "You implying I got a ghost girl following me around? Do you know how stupid you sound right now? Well stupider than usual..."

Sanji tsked.

'It's fine, Zoro.' The swordsman flinched as within seconds Kuina appeared in his ear. 'I think I trust these people. I don't think they would call you crazy.'

Zoro cracked one eye open to peer at the girl. The forever thirteen year old girl. Sometimes she appeared normal. Other times she had a gnarly bloody gash on her forehead. Today, though, she was normal. As healthy looking as she was before she died.

"She's here with us, isn't she?"

"Why are you so interested in the ghost girl?" Zoro grunted.

'I have a name you, ass!' Zoro ignored her outburst.

"No. She's not here. Now leave."

Kuina stamped her foot. 'Roronoa Zoro! Stop lying!'

"She's taking a ghost shit. Lose it, perv cook." He ignored the offended gasp.

"Oh shut up, moss, I know you're lying. She's here and I'm right."

Zoro shifted, his bottom feeling numb. 'Tell Sanji I wish I could eat his cooking. It looks delicious!'

Zoro rolled his eyes. He sat up and hauled himself to his feet with a grunt. "I'm not saying shit for you."

"AHA!" Sanji exclaimed a finger pointed directly at him. Luffy, Usopp, and Robin turned from their spots on the deck to the shouting chef. "I knew it! The ghost girl is here!"

'Tell him, Zoro! Tell him his food looks yummy! Dad's cooking was always so bland and boring, always something with rice. The pork cutlet he made last week was soooooo good looking, you describing it's taste made my mouth water—and I don't even have spit or an appetite anymore!'

As Kuina rambled Zoro stamped off, agitated at the attention he was suddenly getting. He just wanted a good nap in the sun, not a damn probing session.

Kuina showed up several months after she died. He had been training in the heavy rain when he saw her looking out the window, just staring. From the room that contained her sword, there she stood. For days he thought he'd just gone insane with grief and delirium, barely sleeping enough to be considered a healthy amount for a ten year old. But then one day she lashed out. Angry at her father for talking about her like that, even after she was gone. She got so mad. So so mad. In her angry state her shrine shook, vase of flowers falling, photo cracking, candle and incense blowing out. There was no wind, no earthly tremors, only a pissed off girl—Zoro believed she was real from then on. He wouldn't tell Koushirou, he just thought there was a weird isolated earthquake and didn't ask any further question. Zoro began to talk with her like normal again. While they couldn't quite train together she did give him pointers here and there, telling him how to improve his skills when before she wouldn't share anything, let the younger boy find it out himself.

'It would be nice if I could talk to people again.'

Zoro wiped the sweat from his brows with his own shirt. "You talk to me." Way too much, Zoro neglected to add.

'Other people,' Kuina clarified. 'I know I was considered a quiet kid when I was alive but sometimes it's nice to talk. It fills the silence. Makes me...'

"Feel alive again?" Kuina nodded. Zoro put the weights away and faced his friend. "Do you seriously want me to tell everyone? I mean... It's not like they'll magically be able to see or hear you."

Kuina shrugged. 'So? At least they'll know I'm here.'

Good point.

"Fine," He sighed, easily swayed, picking the weights back up for another round. "Later then. After dinner. But I'm not making it a whole thing! I'll just say you're here and get on with it!"

Kuina wasn't listening anymore. She was excitedly rambling, loudly fantasizing about the possibility of socializing with someone other than the grumpy sourpuss that is Zoro.

He could sense the soft hum of Wado Ichimonji, leaning up against the crows nest wall, gleeful just like the spirit attached.

[wannaeatramyeon]

We got baby/childhood panel of Daniel, Jake, Zack, Johan, and recently Gun.

I can't stop think on how cute and chubby baby Gun is lol

Lookism 520 spoiler!

Lol. This feels very duality of man. Baby Gun coming out with UI made me lol.

Ok, gather round for Ramyeon's retelling of chapter 520.

So PTJ, with his fondness for SAD backstories cooked up one for Gun. And while it's not terrible and I didn't get food poisoning, it's tasting a bit bland because everyone is getting a SAD backstory and it's getting old y'know?

Onto the chapter-

Everyone is in love with Daddy Yamazaki, and for some reason that is bad and all the ladies chop their pinkies off to idk repent for their sins or something but even though the relationship appears to be consensual because he's had sex consensually with them all, it's still the women's fault.

In the end, the great big kind man that Daddy Yamazaki is lets them all carry his kids. Thank the heavens.

Daddy Yamazaki has Smaller Bro Yamazaki who also has a son btw (Haruto) - this is sort of important but it's hard to really feel much for them cos the son character (Haruto) has just been introduced in this chapter and will be likely killed off soon.

Anyway, I digress.

All the babies born are unimpressive so far. And you may think wtf how are babies unimpressive. Babies are just babies. Well, that's because Gun comes whooshing out the (Korean) womb with UI. Bro has built in UI from the start, kinda an impossible standard to reach so fine I get why the other babies are unimpressive.

Although if all the babies are unimpressive apart from Gun, the common denominator here is Daddy Yamazaki so maybe everyone should point the finger at him instead. Hmmm.

The chapter fast forwards to show Gun is a prodigy, he masters his training. He's only five and a kid, so he plays around with his friend but gets slapped by his mother for being a kid because it's not becoming of a future gang leader.

So even though he's FIVE, he still gets told to 'act accordingly' lol.

I think there's another timeskip, or PTJ really has lost the plot and forgotten what five year olds look like (tbh he has forgotten what 'elementary school' aged kids look like too) and Gun, genius that he is and following his mother's words takes down all the gangs in ONE DAY. WHEW.

But, PTJ is trying to desperately show it's nurture not nature. Gun wanted normal things but has been moulded to become a monster.

Gun's mother praises him for his violence and his deeds, and Gun wonders 'Huh, if mother dearest loves when I fight, and I must fight to be loved, what happens if I'm violent towards her?'. He punches her and gets praised for it.

Please see above point.

And another fast forward in time (presumably) to Gun trying to squish butterflies like the maniac he is.

Anyway, remember Smaller Bro Yamazaki's kid, Haruto, that was mentioned? Well he's the only one throughout that looked at Gun as if he was normal and told Gun he was free to do as he wants. He doesn't have to fight. Or have to be a leader if he doesn't wanna.

And sweet lil Gun doesn't really wanna, so he makes up his mind and tells Smaller Bro Yamazaki.

Smaller Bro Yamazaki loses his shit and is all who the fuck told you this nonsense. Gun snitches on Haruto, and this snitch doesn't get stitches and instead Haruto does when Smaller Bro Yamazaki tells Gun to kill Haruto. His own father tells Gun to kill HIS kid!

Dun dun dun CLIFFHANGER!

Overall very sad, very unfortunate. But please see my first point about PTJ's cooking.

I'm assuming in the coming chapters Haruto gets killed off. I would be super surprised if he doesn't because Gun, despite me being delusional and thinking he's just a sweet lil blorbo, is something of a murderous psychopath. It's more fitting of his character if he just kills off Haruto even if he has a moment of hesitation or any regrets.

Hope that helps!

[meetmymouth]

i’m on the roof… (2)

read previous part here

notes: angst (with a happy ending), ex!harry, alcohol consumption, use of she/her. love is a game for fools to play and all that :-)

“You sound like a fridge magnet.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jeff turns around, iced drink still in hand– the other holding a colour-block jumper.

She shrugs– it seems like shrugging and pursing her lips are the only reactions she’s exercised since that night.

“Means you’re talking shit, I’m bored,” she sniffs, wandering her hands between racks of clothing.

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“You didn’t need to. You’re giving me that– that pathetic look; the look you all give me when I do or say something sad,” she walks a bit further away from him, but is still within earshot.

Jeff stops, and turns his whole body to where she is. She picks up a crop top, and purses her lips– again.

Jeff sighs, and shakes his drink, the ice making a pleasant sound in the plastic. “You didn’t say anything, did you?”

With a roll of her eyes, she sits on one of the stools. She looks away, heart heavy, and when she turns back to him, he’s smiling.

“What?” She asks.

He doesn’t say anything, and instead, he copies the shrug she gave him earlier.

“What, Jeff?”

“Just–” he says, shrugging again. “Just ask me.”

“Ask you, what?”

“Him.”

Almost shivering, she abandons the stool, and carries on walking.

They pay, and leave the shop, the both of them carrying a bag each. Jeff walks behind her, trying to keep up with her quick steps.

“Can you just–” he calls behind her, a few people turning their way to see what the fuss is about. She laughs, and turns her head his way, noticing how he’s trying to keep up with her. “Slow down?”

She stops walking, and he runs into her, chest making contact with her back.

“Wow, just– wow,” pushing her, she starts walking again, steps much slower and sluggish than before. “You need therapy.”

She lets out a laugh, adjusting the canvas bag on her shoulder. “I am in therapy.”

“Well, clearly it’s not working.”

“It would, if you just fucked off. Both of you.”

“You don’t mean that,” Jeff bumps their shoulders together.

“I do, I really do.”

“Hm.”

They walk some more, and they stop in front of the gates that lead to Jeff’s house.

“Wanna come in?”

She hums, though her legs don't move– she stays put.

It’s not a ‘yes’.

She looks up at the house in the distance, and sighs. Her eyes look for something in the distance, something up there, and when she spots the roof, her heart feels like someone’s squeezing it– as if they’re trying to get rid of excess water from a wet t-shirt.

If Jeff weren’t there, she thinks she would start hyperventilating, or perhaps start crying. How pathetic, she thinks.

“I”ll just,” she takes a step forward, watching as the gates start opening. “Get my car and go home.”

“Just come inside.”

“I’ll go.”

There’s a moment of silence, and he watches her with that same look in his eyes. The look he gave her that night– the look they all give her from time to time whenever she runs into them, or sees them out and about, or at gatherings.

She doesn’t like it– she can’t stand it.

“I’ll go,” she says, again, and Jeff lets her walk ahead.

She watches the gates to Jeff’s house get smaller and smaller from the rear-view window.

A sob escapes her mouth.

*

It looks pathetic, she thinks, the pasta in that ugly bowl.

It’s lacking a lot of things– it’s lacking basil, lemon slices, grated cheese that laid perfectly on top.

It’s lacking passion.

Love.

“This is shit.”

Sarah looks up from her own bowl of pasta, tomato sauce painting her already red lips, and a choked laugh leaves her mouth.

“What?”

“It tastes okay.”

“So?” Sarah asks, adjusting her body on the sofa, leaning back in her seat. They both look at the cold Rosé on the coffee table, though Sarah’s eyes find her face after a few seconds.

“It’s bland,” she shrugs, chewing the food with disdain.

Sarah shrugs, reaching for her wine glass. “I think it’s fine.”

The answer makes her groan. She looks up at her. “That’s the thing!” She insists, eyes wide open.

Sarah mimics her, clearly surprised at the sudden outburst. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing– everything. Nothing at all.”

“So,” she takes a sip from the cold wine. “Bolognese is a sore topic, I’m guessing?”

“It definitely isn’t. It’s just pasta, Sarah.”

“Wow,” she laughs. “You’re giving me a whiplash. How’s–”

“If one more person asks me about therapy, I will kill myself in front of you all. Just like that.”

Sarah gulps, clearly trying to digest not only the pasta, but also her words.

“Okay, well…”

“Sorry,” she bites her bottom lip. “I’m– I’ve been on edge. Mercury and all that.”

Sarah nods, very slowly, like she’s trying to make sense of everything she’s been saying for the last ten minutes.

“Yeah,” she agrees.

“Besides,” she clears her throat, and wipes the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “I’m very tired. You know the shelves I ordered last week?”

“Yeah…”

“They got here yesterday. Couldn’t sleep at all last night– been trying to mount them on the wall and they kept falling so I had to watch a lot of videos because did you know they don’t really give you nice instructions on those papers?”

“Oh?” Sarah bites her lip, watching her intently.

“Mhm. The writing is so small as well, so I had to download it online. Couldn’t understand shit,” she lets out a laugh– pasta forgotten. “I was going to call my– my friend, but figured he’d be sleeping, you know? So I tried going back to sleep but– well, couldn’t.”

“Okay,” Sarah says her name, clearly trying to stop the pathetic rambling.

She fails.

“It was too late. I started cleaning the guest bedroom. Found a lot of shit from when– you know. Apparently I hide everything under the bed,” she laughs.

She laughs, and laughs, then stops.

The bowl nearly tips over, but she stops it.

She lets out another chuckle, then it turns into a sob.

She doesn't even realise Sarah getting up from the sofa, grabbing the pasta bowl and placing it on the coffee table next to their wine glasses. Despite everything being too quiet, aside from her sobs, she feels as though there’s a storm outside– if she looks up, she’s almost certain she’s going to spot the palm trees surrounding her house swaying left and right, creating a scene much like the ones in horror films.

She hears Sarah muttering her name, trying to wrap her arms around her, but she feels put; she can’t make noise, nor move.

“Deep breaths,” Sarah is saying. “Take deep breaths, come back to me, come on– it’s okay. You’re okay– you’re here…”

*

Sundays are slow.

Sundays are reserved for quiet days, and charging up, soaking some sunshine– just overall, taking it easy.

Instead, she finds herself on the kitchen floor, “Killing Me Softly” playing loudly–very loudly–in the background as she tries to find her earring.

It’s here somewhere, she hears her own voice mumble to no one in particular. She looks everywhere, but as soon as her hand touches the pink rug, she freezes.

She feels the soft material of the rug– though it doesn’t feel as soft as it did when it was first bought. It feels coarse, like you’re petting a horse, and she’s never particularly liked the feeling. She looks at it, still on her knees, the small, hoop earring long-forgotten as the pink rug fills her vision. It’s so vibrant– so, so bright compared to everything in the kitchen that she finds herself crying at the sight.

She finds her phone in no time.

“What?”

“Tom?”

She hears Tom laugh. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t see it was you calling.”

“Can– what are you doing?”

A pause.

Then, he clears his throat.

“Nothing– nothing in particular. What’s up? Are you in LA?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m– I’m at home,” she nods, forgetting the fact that he wouldn’t be able to see her.

“Okay… you okay?”

“I think so.”

“Okay– are you– are you sure?”

“Tom?”

“Yes?” Tom answers back.

She gulps. Hand still feeling the pink rug.

Her knees are starting to hurt.

“Do you remember that pink rug we had in my kitchen?”

Another pause follows.

“Yes…”

“I don’t really– I hate it.”

Tom doesn’t answer for a while.

She hears shuffling on his end.

“You don’t like the rug– uh huh– yes.”

“It’s, well, it’s ugly. I’ve never liked it. I don’t– like it.”

“Do you–” he says her name, and it sounds like a plea. “Do you want me to come over?”

“No– yes. I don’t know, why?”

He chuckles. “I dunno, I thought you might need another pair of eyes to judge the rug.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I… don’t think so.”

“What? Do you want me to come over?” He asks. Again.

“I do.”

Some more shuffling, and she hears his voice.

Where is she?

“Tom?”

“Yes, love? I’ll be there–”

“–Am I on speaker? Did you put me on speaker?” She asks, disdain clear in her voice.

A jingle of keys, and she hears everything clearer now. “No, not anymore, sorry,” Tom answers, and she hears a door slamming shut.

“Are you coming?”

“Yes. Stay where you are.”

“On the floor?” She tries to joke, but she has an epiphany.

It’s all so pathetic.

She is pathetic.

“Well– no, not on the floor. Sit on a sofa or something.”

“The pink rug?” She finds herself asking meekly.

Tom laughs. “Keep it.”

She only gets on her feet when Tom calls her, letting her know he’s outside the gates. It takes him about three minutes to get to her front door, and when she opens the door, bottom lip trapped between her teeth, he gives her that same look everybody’s been giving her for a while. It’s not sad– they don’t exactly look sad; they just look worried.

She decides she doesn’t like it.

“Can I come in?” He says, feet already carrying him inside.

She doesn’t respond, just watches him walk inside, and take his shoes off.

They just stand there for a bit, until Tom nods–more to himself–before wrapping his arms around her.

She shakes like a leaf, sobbing and wetting the white t-shirt he has on.

His hug feels like Harry’s, perhaps it’s because they’re best friends.

It feels warm, and safe, his embrace.

She basks in it, hugging him tighter as he sways them in the middle of her entrance. He doesn’t say anything, just lets her cry into his t-shirt. Only when she stops he grabs her by the forearm, and helps her sit on the sofa.

Curling into herself, she closes her eyes.

She hears him call her name.

“What?”

“You need to– this needs to stop,” Tom lifts her legs, and moves them on his lap, getting comfortable on the green sofa.

“I can’t.”

He clears his throat. “If you just spoke to him…”

“No. Absolutely not,” she visibly shudders at the thought of seeing him, talking to him again.

Purely because she knows she will give in.

“This can’t go on like this, you know that, right?”

“Why not?”

He opens his mouth to respond, but his phone goes off with a phone call.

He takes it out of his pocket, and sighs– presses the side button to silence it as it keeps ringing.

She can see the screen– the call is still incoming.

“Who is it?” She asks, knowing she has no right to.

“It’s– fine.”

“What’s fine? Who is it? Is it Jenny?” She murmurs, throwing one of the throw pillows on the floor so she can lean back on the sofa. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

Tom nods.

She groans, feeling hot all of a sudden. Another wave of tears hit her, and she feels them rolling down her cheek.

She looks at her hands on her lap. She plays with her ring. “Why– were you together– when I called?”

“Yeah,” Tom nods again, voice quiet.

They fall silent for a while, before they both flinch at the sound of her doorbell going off.

“Who the fuck–”

Tom stands up, and she holds him by the arm.

“I’ll answer it,” he says.

“What? No– this is my house.”

“You look like– well…”

It’s too late, though, because he watches her walk to her front door.

Whoever is at the door presses the doorbell once again, but she stops in her tracks; she can’t move.

It’s weird, because whoever is on the other side of the door, is someone who knows the code to her gates, and they probably know the security outside for them to be able to walk freely to her front door.

Whoever is on the other side of her door, shouldn’t be him.

But, as always, life has unpleasant surprises for her.

It is him.

She catches a whiff of Harry as soon as she opens the door, and she feels her legs give up, though she finds it in herself to hold on to the door.

“Go,” she can only say. “Please, go.”

He takes a step back. “I’m– I can’t.”

It feels weird, almost nostalgic, hearing his voice.

It’s deep, hoarse, like he hasn’t used it in a while. But, at the same time, it feels fond, hearty…

“Harry,” she whispers.

Her insides fill with relief and chaos at the same time, just from hearing his name coming out of her own mouth.

He responds, saying her name back.

“Don’t make me leave,” Harry shakes his head. “Don’t– I can’t leave. Not now. Not when I’m here– not when you’re in front of me.”

She lets out a whine, the wind from the outside sends a chill down her spine. Harry stays put; it looks like he’s not even breathing, not saying anything– just staring at her. He looks like he’s about to drop to his knees, and cry. Glossy eyes meet hers, and she sees him take a step forward, toes almost touching.

“Let me–” Harry whispers, voice cracking. He sounds like he’s breaking. He doesn’t finish his sentence, he just– he waits.

She’d forgotten about Tom until she feels his presence behind her and they both turn to him, the blond man giving her a sheepish smile.

“You called him,” she says, matter-of-factly, ears feeling warm. Anger and shame.

Tom looks at Harry, a silent conversation happening between them for a second before he turns to her.

“I didn’t call him–”

“–He didn’t, I was with him when you called. I knew he would be here,” Harry murmurs.

She doesn’t say anything, instead, she watches Tom contemplate for a few seconds before he sighs. “I’m gonna– I’ll leave.”

“Tom…”

“If you need anything, let me know. I’ll come back. You know I will.”

“Tom, please.”

Harry cuts her off, says her name, and she turns to him again, completely ignoring Tom who quickly brushes past them and walks towards the gates.

“Harry,” she says. “Please leave, I can’t do this right now.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t what, Harry? Just fucking leave. I don’t have the strength to do this with you– to argue, to fight with you. I’m done– there’s nothing left in me to do this with you,” she waves her hands in the air, and Harry gulps.

He’s nervous.

“Don’t, then. Don’t argue with me– don’t fight with me, let’s just– let’s just be.”

“Fuck you.”

He smiles, it’s barely there, but she can tell by his lips turning upwards ever-so-slightly. “Yes.”

“Fuck off,” she takes a step back. Harry follows.

“I know.”

She leaves him there, and walks inside the living room, feet carrying her back to the sofa. She sits, leans back, and closes her eyes.

She feels him staring, even with her eyes closed.

That’s the problem, really.

She knows him. She feels him– all the time.

“I hate you,” she whispers, eyes now open. “I hate you so much.”

Harry doesn’t sit– he just stands there, by the console table. “I know.”

“Stop–” she averts her gaze to the ceiling. “–Stop repeating yourself.”

“I want to apologise.”

“For?”

“For– everything. For that night. And before that.”

“And before that, as well?” She asks, playing with the pillow on her lap.

“For everything, yeah.”

“Did you apologise to her, as well?” She tries to find his gaze, though he doesn’t give in.

He can’t even look at her.

His gaze stays on his shoes, hands trembling at his side.

“I did.”

She lets out a chuckle filled with bitterness. It’s cold, and it’s nasty.

She feels nasty.

“I feel nasty,” she says. She means it.

“I do, too.”

“Why– how did this happen?” She looks around, then back at him.

Their gazes find each other.

Harry sits on the edge of the sofa. They’re closer now.

“I don’t know, but I’m sorry for everything.”

“Why did you come?”

“I wanted to see you,” Harry turns his face, and she catches a glimpse of the shadows on his face.

He looks tired.

“I’m not well.”

“I know.”

She lets out a laugh. “Not your fault, though, I mean– I let you do this to me, to us,” she clears her throat.

“Can I– how can I fix this?”

“You can’t.”

“Please…” He almost whines. She closes her eyes. “I need you.”

“You don’t need me.”

“I do– I always do. I need you all the time,” he gets up, gets on his knees. It’s all so fast that she’s worried he might bruise his knees. “I’m selfish– I’m horrible, I know. But, I need you, I–”

“–Don’t say it,” she shakes her head, watches him come closer to her, on his knees in front of her. “Don’t you dare fucking say it.”

“I love you.”

“No,” it’s frantic, the shaking of her head. She feels cold. “No. Don’t.”

“I love you. I think– I think I’ll always love you, always need you. I’m not– I can’t do it without you.”

“Stop gaslighting me.”

“What?”

“Harry, just–” she gets on her feet, walks past him to stop by the coffee table. “Get up– you look pathetic– you sound pathetic!”

He does.

He listens.

*

A year is a long time.

Her hair’s longer.

Her nails are shorter.

It doesn’t hurt as bad when she sees his favourite colours on the streets, or when his favourite song comes on shuffle. She sleeps better now, doesn’t cry that often– only once a day on most days.

She still reaches for his side of the wardrobe when it’s chilly at night– still makes his favourite food when she knows he’s away and he might be missing home. When February comes, she goes out and buys his favourite flowers. Such beautiful flowers, the lady at the till says. I know, she says, they’re my favourites.

She breathes easily now, she thinks.

Until now.

She’s three glasses in when she walks back into the kitchen, and spots the pink rug.

She leaves the wine glass on the kitchen island, and gets on her knees. She acts like she’s found her missing earring. Then, her hand finds her phone in her pocket.

She does scroll for a bit before she finds his name.

He picks up on the fourth ring.

He sounds breathless, so does she.

“Can you come over,” she asks. “I need you.”

She doesn’t get a response for a while. She grows anxious.

“Please? Are you in LA?” She goes on. >Pathetic.

He answers at last. “I– am. Yes.”

“Come– come over.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Harry,” she hears herself say, sounding equally breathless. It sounds like a prayer. It’s the first time in a while she’s said it out loud.

“Yes?” She hears his keys being picked up.

“Come home.”

[foodandfolklore]

Tools and Ingredients to keep on hand; Kitchen Witchcraft Elevated Pt. 2

Alright time for Part 2, Ingredients! Again, this is my person preference, and it's like my third time trying to write this out so bear with me. These are things I tend to keep on hand, and this list is not going to just include Salt, Pepper, Garlic; You got that already. I hope. If you're looking for info on Tools, check out Part 1. Onions: I keep a bowl of onions on one of my shelves in my kitchen. I find they keep better outside of the fridge, and I can easily see when I'm running low. Onions have strong protective and good cleansing properties so I tend to add them to my pot or pan before adding any other food. I also like to let them caramelize to get that transformative element.

Lemons: Lemons are great to use in so many dishes, both sweet and savory. You can zest the peel for it's oils and fragrance. You can squeeze the lemon for it's juice and acid. They're associated with beauty, longevity, positivity, mental clarity, cleansing; ect. One of the great things about lemons is thanks to their peel, you can leave them out at room temperature for long periods of time, so long at the peel is unbroken. So if you need to make space in your fridge, pull out your lemons.

Cinnamon Sticks: Okay so every witch has ground cinnamon. It's one of the easiest and cheapest spices to get. It's in every beginner box of witchy herbs. And it that's because it's absolutely fantastic to use. The problem with cooking, however, ground cinnamon isn't always the best option. The power is very fine, but also gritty. So it can be hard to strain out if you are just wanting to infuse some cinnamon. It's why I keep sticks on hand. They're also great for seasonal garlands and bundles.

Italian Seasoning: Rosemary, Thyme, Basil and Oregano. That is what's in Italian seasoning. Do I have these seasonings separate? Yes I do. And there are other seasonings in there like Marjoram, Summer Savory, Sage, Parsley; it varies a little from brand to brand. But if I'm in a rush, I can grab that Italian seasoning to make my food tasty and include one (or all) of the spice correlation properties. Quick note; if you're buying yours, check the ingredients. It should list what spices it's using. I bought a big thing of "Italliano" once without checking and my food was just not emotionally the same. I checked the ingredients and is was mostly dried bell peppers and salt.

Cayenne: It's cheap, spicy, and banishes bad shit. That's all I ask of it.

Vinegar: This may seem odd since vinegar is largely associated with souring spells and Hexes. But it also has strong cleansing an protecting properties too. You can also use it as a preventative property to deture people from asking uncomfortable questions or bringing up touchy topics. But vinegar is also an important tool in the culinary world. A lot of the time, if you taste your food and it tastes flat or bland, even with lots of seasonings, a little acid and brighten it up. Sure you can use lemon juice, but sometime you just need a tsp, and opening a jar of vinegar is easier than juicing a lemon. Vinegar is a key component in many sauces and marinades. Not to mention being used in pickling. Then they are a lot of uses outside cooking, like help with cleaning. My MIL's favorite way to wash windows is still spray with white vinegar and wipe with newspapers.

Canned Milk: So we all keep some kind of milk in the fridge. Dairy milk, Oat milk, Almond Milk, Soy Milk, lots of wonderful kinds of milk. So why keep canned milk? Well, canned milk tends to be thicker and creamery than regular fridge milks. Yes, I can go out and get cream, but it's often cheaper and easier to just use some canned milk I have laying around. Plus, sometimes cream is too rich for what I want. The three main kinds of canned milk I keep on hand are Evaporated Milk, Sweet and Condensed Milk, and Coconut Milk. If you drink only dairy milk, I recommend keeping at lest one can of coconut milk on hand too. In case one day you find yourself cooking for someone who can't have dairy milk.

Soy Sauce: This is a great, inexpensive flavor enhancer that I add to soups, curries, and meats. I buy it in bulk, and I always get more before I run out. Because of it's dark color, and it's made from soy, it has strong protection and banishing properties for me.

Cumin: This is a weird one for me. I go through waves of using cumin and not using cumin. I'll use it for every other meal one month, then not touch it again for another month. So, to preserve it's flavor and aroma, I buy whole cumin seeds, and crush them as I need them. But I like keeping cumin on hand since many recipes online will include cumin in their spices.

And that's all I got for now. If I think of more stuff later, maybe I'll make a part 3

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Total $hit$how: Punching Bags

in which Benji realizes he's in over his head.

cw: violence, abusive training methods, threats, adult/crude language

previous ///// masterlist ///// next

×~×~×

Wandering the base hadn't been nearly as fun as Benji had hoped.

It was mostly just empty government-style hallways and locked doors. So many locked doors. Made even more frustrating by the fact that the locks all looked easy as shit, and if he tried, Benji could have any of them open in a matter of seconds. Maybe all of them. He wondered how long it would take him to open every door in the facility if he was really trying. Ten minutes? Fifteen? There was always the chance that a locked door would just lead to more locked doors, but that wasn't really fair to count against him.

But… he wasn't going to do that. No matter how bored he got here. Normally he didn't care too much for following rules, you couldn't make a living as a thief if you did, but Sahota's all-but-outright-stated threat made him think better of it.

If he messed up here, he would go to jail.

He'd already been there briefly, while waiting on a trial, and that had been… significantly less than fun. Benji imagined a state prison would be worse, especially if he was in for literal decades. So, fine. He'd be a good boy and do what he was told, even if their mission sounded made up.

There were a few doors that weren't locked. A decent-sized kitchen and adjacent dining hall. A computer lab that doubled as a small library. A huge, open room with cushioned floors that Benji assumed was the training area.

Eventually, Vic found them and showed them to their rooms. They were down a hall, behind yet another locked door, but Vic gave them keys for this one. 

There was a room for each of them, thank God. Benji would lose his mind if he had to room with one of these doofuses. Joy and Jericho seemed alright, but he never trusted a first impression. Kaius was a classic arrogant rich boy, probably turned into an asshole by parents and teachers who constantly praised his intellect. And Harbor seemed more than a little unstable. The kind of guy who'd snap and stab you in your sleep if you looked at him wrong.

Sure, he'd learn to get along with them; he got along with everyone given enough time, but sharing a living space was a different story.

The rooms were small and impersonal. A little bland for Benji’s tastes, and if he weren't fresh out of a jail cell he might've complained more. It was late, and he was tired from all the new information that had been chucked at him throughout the day, so he fell onto the bed before doing too much poking around.

The next morning, at seven sharp, they all filed into the training bay as instructed. Everyone else was wearing a set of dark gray workout attire.

Shit, did he not get the memo? He hadn't bothered to dig through the drawers the night before, and had just changed into the same clothes he'd worn yesterday, minus the fishnet undershirt. Now he was standing there in a crop top, looking ridiculous.

When Harbor stumbled in, ten minutes late and wearing the same rumpled shirt and oversized jacket he'd had on at the briefing, Benji didn't know if he felt better or worse.

On the one hand, at least he wasn't the only one who'd goofed. On the other, he didn't want everyone else to start grouping him with Harbor.

“I see most of you found the training uniforms.”

Benji turned around. Sahota was walking into the room, his face impassive as ever though his tone was full of irritation.

“Right, sorry,” Benji said. “Maybe give us better instruction next time instead of running off? Even just a note could work. Oh, or those little instruction pamphlets that come inside board games, that would've been a huge help—”

“Is this just a game to you, Ruebin?”

Benji gave him an exaggerated wince. “No," he said "I can honestly say that me staying out of prison is a very serious matter. I'm just saying—”

“Then shut up and pay attention.” He sauntered to the center of the group, leaving Benji to throw an exasperated look in Joy’s direction, which she answered with a small grin.

In his experience, the quickest way to bond with someone was by complaining about someone else.

Sahota unzipped his jacket and cast it aside, then turned to face them. He was… actually kind of hot, even if Benji was reluctant to admit it. Warm brown skin and lean muscle. Scars running up and down his arms that served to add an edge to his look, and a tattoo of something—a hawk? Some kind of bird—curling along the side of his neck. His dark hair was cut short at the sides and allowed just enough length to curl at the top, and his eyes were framed by thick lashes. If the guy wasn't such a prick, he might’ve tried to chat him up.

“Today we'll be doing some sparring," Sahota said. "I assume most of you already have some combatives experience, but I'll need a firsthand look to see if your skills are adequate.”

Joy raised her hand. Benji found it adorable how she kept doing that, like a kindergartner excited to learn. 

“So you're going to watch us fight each other?”

“No,” Sahota said. “You're going to fight me.”

Shit. Benji raised his hand. “Ah… exactly how important are these combatives?”

He was more flight than fight. Hell, not even that. As long as his jaw was working, Benji was a talker. He'd avoided countless black eyes and broken bones through simple verbal de-escalation. The few times he had been dragged into a scuffle hadn't gone very well for him.

“It's a matter of life and death.” From anybody else, that would've sounded like a joke, but Sahota was dead serious. “Each potential target will be swarming with guards. If you end up cornered, really cornered, it'll be a fight to survive. Understood?”

Benji swallowed, nodding. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Shoes off. Vic doesn't like the mats getting scuffed.”

Benji crouched, unlacing his boots with a heavy sigh. This was gonna suck, wasn't it? Maybe he should just volunteer to go first and get this over with—

“I'll go first if that's okay,” Jericho piped up. “Might as well get it over with.”

Oh, son of a… well. Great minds think alike and all that. Benji scooted away from the mat, eyes on his brand new teammate as the man stepped up and came face-to-face with Sahota. Their handler smirked—if you could call it that. It was a half-smirk. Quarter smirk. Barely noticeable at all.

Jericho was nearly a head taller than him and twice as wide, all nervous smiles and beefy arms as Sahota sized him up.

“Alright Davis. Come at me.”

“What, right away?”

Sahota hit him.

Nothing devastating, just a little pop on the jaw, but Benji physically cringed at the blow, and Jericho staggered back in surprise.

“If you're caught in a fight, you can't hesitate,” Sahota said. Jericho gave a sharp nod and swung on him, but the smaller man dodged the blow effortlessly. 

“If you don't have skill, you'll need to make up for it with speed. If you know you're cornered, be the first to strike.”

He sidestepped another blow from Jericho as he spoke, sending a sharp kick into his opponent’s ribs.

“You're strong, Davis, but too slow.”

Jericho lunged at Sahota, making to grab him, but their handler dodged that too.

“And you're holding back.”

“I… I don't want to hurt you,” Jericho said, sounding a little winded.

“Your enemy won't feel the same.”

Sahota dropped to the floor, moving quicker than Benji thought possible as he took Jericho’s legs out from under him with a sweeping kick, then pouncing on the bigger man when he hit the ground, wrestling him into a chokehold before he could react.

Jericho tapped out, and Sahota let him up. The whole thing was over in under two minutes, and their handler wasn't even breathing heavily.

Maybe it was a better strategy to go last, when Sahota was the slightest bit tired out. If he got tired at all. Even then, Benji really didn't like his odds.

“I'll go next,” Joy said, stepping up to the mat as Jericho trudged back to his spot on the floor, one hand on his ribs. Benji threw a sympathetic look his way, or rather, a can you believe this guy look.

“Begin.”

Having apparently learned from Jericho’s match, Joy lunged right away, dropping a knee between Sahota’s legs and thrusting her body forward, driving them both to the ground. The move seemed to have taken the man by surprise, but he didn't stay that way for long, engaging with Joy before she could throw an arm around his neck. The two grappled for a moment, but Sahota came out on top. Benji wasn't overly shocked as he released the defeated Joy.

“Not terrible,” he said. “But against a larger opponent you wouldn't stand a chance.”

“That's what guns are for,” Joy panted.

Kaius went next. Small as he was, he was surprisingly good at kicking, and actually almost landed a blow. Benji felt a little vindicated when he didn't, even more so when he was swiftly put into a chokehold. If Kaius was the first one to match Sahota, Benji had the feeling he'd only get smugger.

With Kaius beaten that marked three fights won, and Sahota didn't look the slightest bit tired.

“Are you ready, Harbor?”

“If it means I get to punch you.” Harbor shuffled over to the mat, hands stuffed into the pockets of his oversized jacket. His multicolored hair, buzzed on one side and long on the other, gave the appearance of a parrot sitting on his shoulder. A feral parrot. Who'd been caught in a particularly bad storm. His height matched Jericho's, but he was scrawny, with a build like the kid from the chocolate factory movie after he'd been stretched by the taffy puller.

“Begin.”

Harbor darted forward, closed fist shooting out and… and actually catching Sahota across the chin.

Their handler seemed just as surprised as Benji was. Of all the people to land a blow, Harbor had got it first?

Sahota recovered quickly, dancing around the next few jabs. Harbor moved like a drunk monkey, slouchy and swaying, but he was fast.

What had he said at the briefing? He had some kind of biotech implant that made him quicker? In that case, completely unfair. Benji hoped he wouldn't have to fight him.

On the other hand, having Harbor on his side in a fight would be a plus. Even after Sahota had landed a few hits of his own, the taller man hadn't slowed down, the half-crazed smile on his face spreading with every blow. 

Which was more than a little bit unsettling. Benji once again found himself glad he didn't have to share a room with the guy.

After what seemed like forever, Sahota managed to get him on the ground, wrapping an arm around his throat and squeezing, the finishing move that had ended every other match.

Only Harbor didn't tap.

His face was contorted into a snarl, blood dribbling down his chin as his hands clawed at the arm around his neck. His upper lip was starting to go purple.

“Sahota…” Jericho said. “I think he's done.”

Their handler didn't move.

“Sahota.”

Harbor's jaw worked soundlessly, his feet scraping at the ground. A sick fear settled in Benji’s stomach. He wasn't… he wasn't about to watch this guy die, was he? Sahota wouldn't go that far, would he?

His mouth fell open, to reason with the other man, to shout for him to stop, but words didn't come. Beside him, Joy jumped to her feet, striding forward. Jericho was already standing, looking like he was about to charge in as well.

“Hey!”

Harbor's arms fell slack at his sides, and Sahota at last let go, letting the other man fall limp onto the mat as he stood.

Joy bent over Harbor's body. “What the fuck was that?”

“He'll be fine,” Sahota muttered. He was more winded than he'd been after his fight with Kaius, but his expression remained impassive. Not angry, or regretful, just… just a whole lot of nothingness. Like he didn't care at all. He was just doing his job, and he had no room for showing mercy at it.

And Benji was up next.

“Are you supposed to be training us or hurting us?” Benji said, finding words at last. “Is this really what Vic wants from you?”

“Who do you think I learned it from?”

Behind him, Harbor's eyes fluttered open with a groan. Joy offered him a hand, but he swatted it aside, staggering to his feet with difficulty. Sahota watched him limp away.

“You're quick, Harbor, but you're a sloppy fighter,” he said. “However, you're also the only one who didn't tap. Good work.”

“Good?” Joy scowled. “You're a shitty trainer if you think that's a good thing."

Sahota ignored her. “Get on the mat, Ruebin. You're up.”

Oh, fuck me.

Benji chewed the inside of his cheek as he pushed himself to his feet. Everyone here was a better brawler than him, and everyone here was already sporting bruises from their go with Sahota. No way would he escape unscathed.

“Go easy on me,” he said, trying to make it sound like a joke. “I don't even know how to throw a punch.”

“Begin.”

He knew he should follow the handler's suggestion and strike first, but Benji couldn't bring himself to move closer to his opponent. Sahota took a step forward, and he took a step back, hands half-up as if he'd actually be fast enough to protect his face.

“Maybe we should just—”

Sahota swung on him, and Benji jumped back with a yelp, barely evading the blow. Shit!

“Dodging won't always save you. What will you do when the door is barricaded? When you're trapped?”

That was where words came in. “Can't I just offer to go down on him?” he snipped.

Sahota answered with a jab to the jaw that sent Benji’s head snapping to the side, and he staggered backwards, losing his balance and landing hard on his ass. He scrambled to his feet as Sahota stalked towards him, holding his hands up in awkward fists, cheek throbbing.

His opponent spun on his heel, sending a kick directly into Benji’s side, which he accepted with a cry and a stumble, arms instinctively rising to protect his head, body panicking and not moving in the right direction quick enough.

“If all you're going to do is cower, you're never going to win.”

Benji grit his teeth, getting his hands back up. He flung a blind punch at Sahota, and was unsurprised when it didn't make contact. The other man took advantage of the opening, planting a heavy kick in Benji's stomach.

He crumpled, retching as the boot sent a spike of pain and nausea through his torso, up his spine. Sahota was towering over him, moving to pin him down—

“Wait!” Benji threw up a hand to shield himself. “Wait, wait, I surrender. Okay? You win.”

Sahota stopped. “You surrender?” he echoed, his voice low. An edge had entered his tone, and Benji didn't like it one bit.

“Your mission is to destroy top-secret equipment owned by a company with enough money to own you a thousand times over. Do you know what happens if you surrender?”

Benji searched for something witty, something he could throw out to defuse the situation, and came up empty handed. “N-no, I—”

He cried out as Sahota seized a fistful of his hair and hauled him to his feet, scalp set on fire by the sudden force, only half-aware of the shouts of alarm from the others.

“If you surrender, they'll want information. Who sent you. Why. They'll do anything to get it. And when you give it up, when you sell us out, Vic and I will do worse. Understood?”

Benji squeezed his eyes shut, nodding as much as the hand in his hair would allow.

“Good. Now stand up and fight—”

“I think that's enough.” Jericho was behind Benji. He hadn't heard him walking up. “Sahota, let him go.”

When he dared to open his eyes, their handler was glaring up at Jericho. But the grip in his hair loosened, and the big guy caught Benji as he fell backwards.

Sahota turned his back on them, silent for a moment. Benji imagined he was contemplating lunging for Jericho, then coming back to beat him up when the bigger man was unconscious. 

“That's enough sparring for one day,” Sahota said at last. “Take the next few hours to train as you see fit. Vic will be around to brief you on individual skill use later.”

Benji clung to Jericho as they left the mat behind. His ribs and stomach felt bruised, and his hands were trembling. Fuck, Sahota was good at making threats that shook him to his core.

“You okay?” Jericho asked, and Benji could only nod. Had anyone else caught what Sahota had growled at him? Did they know how fucked they were if they failed? It was probably better for the overall mood if he didn't tell them. Sure would do wonders for his if he could unhear it.

Sahota started to leave the room, but stopped just short of the door.

“I'm sure you all think I'm a monster,” he said, not turning around. “But when all this is over, when you survive it, you'll thank me.”

Benji watched him go with a barely-suppressed shudder. After today, prison wasn't sounding too bad after all.

[lemonmaid]

Type of drinks and food they order from Starbucks!

Warnings: None!

Riddle Rosehearts : Royal English Breakfest Tea Lattle with brown sugar and a Red Velvet Loaf.

When he doesn't (when he is lazy) want to eat at Heartslabyul and have tea with others, he will stop by and get something small to take to class. Basic tea and a sweet loaf.

"Are you okay Riddle?".

"Yeah, am just overwhelmed. I need something fast and simple just to get the day over with".

"Is it that type of day already?".

"Yes, you can blame that duo of yours".

"Do you want shared custody?".

"If they keep waking me up in the middle of the night. Yes".

Leona Kingscholar : White Mocha with raspberry syrup and an Impossible Breakfest Sandwich

Listen when this man got the Impossible sandwich he thought it was a regular sausage sandwich, he still does, don't tell him he is eating vegan meat.

I also feel like he doesn't drink a lot of coffee, it's like a once-a-month thing for him when he is feeling peckish.

"White Mocha today Leona?".

"Yeah... I forgot that we have a pop quiz today in Trein's class".

"Oh shit, is that today?".

"Yes, also can you get me that sandwich that Ruggie always brings me?".

"Yeah, the impossible?".

"Yes that... also what's in it? What makes it "impossible"?".

"Uhhhh".

Azul Ashengrotto : Americano adds four shots and the Mushrooms & Kale egg bites.

This man loves those disgusting americanos, even more disgusting he keeps adding shots, he is business savvy and has to stay awake to deal with the Leech twins shit.

"Sir, I really don't feel comfortable giving this drink to you..."

"Why?"

"Because this is your third Grande Americano with four extra shots...... it already has four.... You've basically had 24 shots of expresso..."

Kalim Al-Asim : anything from tic tok and a Tomato & Mozzarella on Focaccia

This man is the type of customer who just shows a picture in the batista face.

"CAN I HAVE THIS??".

"Umm yeah, is Jamil okay with you coming here to drink? You know assassination? I could poison your drink right now".

"Psh it's fine, besides I've heard this drink is basically Neapolitan ice cream! But i wonder what Jamil would want.."

"Probably a shot-in-the-dark".

Vil Schoenheit : Chocolate Cream Cold Brew and a Feta Wrap

I feel like he doesn't really like sweet drinks "too much sugar", so he gets something bland but has a sweeten taste. It's like regular coffee but cold and instead of creamer you're putting melted whip cream on top.

"Samethinh always?"

"Yes, I'm so exhausted. My phone kept blowing up, Stan twitter is really something else".

"Oh yeah, I heard Epel talked about that. Are you getting canceled or something?"

"Ugh, no I wish. Me and Neige were seen eating brunch yesterday and now we are being shipped or media outlets saying "OH wHaT a KiND hEArT NieGe hAS foR MaKInG uP with ViLaN aCtoR ViL".

"Wish you luck on that, here's your drink by the way"

"Ugh, you're going probably remake this, there's too much water not enough cold brew".

Idia Shroud : Matcha Crème Frappuccino and Cheese Danish

When he does come out of his room, instead of the library he goes to the Starbucks café and plays video games or study.

"Um (Name) can you make it extra pretty, like in the picture? I wanna take a photo for my discord normies to prove I get out of my room".

"Yeah of course! Do you want caramel or honey on your Cheese Danish by the way?"

"Caramel but I want the Danish hot".

"So when you work, do you think as it as Papa's Freezeria but real life?"

"You need to get out more and yes. Yes I do, I even hear the music in my head".

Malleus Draconia : Caramel Macchiato with hazelnut and Coffee Cake

He only came to visit you, I doubt this man has drank any caffeine in his life. So when you asked what he wanted he saw the first thing and order it. I can't say if he liked it though, but do you know when cats' eyes dilate? Yeah his eyes were like that for a while, then he would randomly twitch, and purr.

"Okay, Malleus. Let's stop with the coffees, we have tea you know.... we even have cake pops".

"Coffee cake...."

"Malleus...."

Authors Note:

Hey guys! Sorry I've been so busy, I literally just started working and I got out of training yesterday and my manager came up to me ans was like "do you wanna be manager?" Appernlty everyone is leaving the store, so it will be me and two other people, who've by the way, worked longer than I have. I'm just tired and busy, but I am trying to get Isseked Baby Reader out soon, I just want to make it a longer chapter, so you guys can enjoy that while I girlboss my way to owning an apartment.

Thank you guys so much for the support and likes!

[heartbeatbookclub]

We all know Natsuki is the best cook and Sayori is the worst, but how are Monika and Yuri?

Natsuki, is, as stated, the best cook of the group. She's got the most experience, and where baking is a much more exact science, cooking is a lot more of a fuck around and find out type situation. Following a recipe to the T isn't hard and it gets good results, but Natsuki definitely spends a good deal of time figuring out little cheats and tricks to make it taste exactly like she wants. Of course, she makes more than enough to share. It's what she does best!

Sayori, as you surmised, cannot cook for shit I'm so sorry bbgirl you're burning a pot of water on the stove--

Okay, she's not that bad, but she has a tendency to try to prep every part of the recipe early, while other parts are still cooking and need her attention. This results in things being overcooked, occasionally undercooked as she needs to combine them quicker than the recipe requires, and occasionally she just eyeballs the amounts rather than measuring them which can really make mac n cheese taste a lot more soupy than you expected did you guys know that--

In all honesty, Sayori doesn't think she can cook at all in the slightest, and that belief leads her to psych herself out any time she tries, which just ends up reinforcing the belief. She can boil a pot of water and make Kraft Mac n Cheese with some degree of consistency. You're doing fine, lass, that's all you need to cook anything.

Monika isn't great, but she isn't terrible. She has a bit more confidence than Sayori, but she's not terribly confident in her ability to cook. She relies entirely on the recipe and is careful to measure things out and cook things for exactly as long as the recipe says, to the letter. This ends up with dishes which are fine, but taste a little...bland. Or a little TOO flavorful. Believe it or not, some of those recipes kinda suck on their own...especially since they aren't using the cookware YOU are. To break character a second, a genuinely handy tip on terms of cooking is to pay attention to how your cook top and pots/pans specifically heat up. Different cookware heats up at different rates, and different stove tops not only heat in different ways, they also tend to heat at different rates. Medium for you can mean high on someone else's stove, I'm not even kidding, you have to work that out yourself.

Back on track, over time Monika does start experimenting a little bit and start adding her own little flourishes to her recipes (little bit of extra spice here, little bit of extra milk for some added fluffiness, cooking for a little longer, sausage pieces), but she never gets much further beyond that, and has very little confidence as a chef all on her own.

Also she breaks spaghetti noodles in half, which peeves Natsuki. ("What's so wrong about that?" "Just get a bigger pot!")

Yuri tends to cook a lot of the same stuff...which is to say, not a lot. She has a select few foods she really likes and she makes them in a very specific way which she thinks tastes best. She's willing to branch out, and on terms of skill, she tends to be a natural at improvising while making a dish (substituting ingredients which, while they don't sound like they'd work, shockingly do, quite well), but she has...peculiar tastes. What she enjoys isn't necessarily what everyone enjoys. Still, she's a pretty solid cook, though she lacks confidence in her abilities to cook for others.

[viridianevergarden]

In Spite of It All (Elain x Azriel) Part II

A/N: It’s finally done lol. This is Azriel’s POV, starting off with a flashback so we can see his side of the story. Then after a certain point, we resume to the present.

Word count: 5.2K

Key: Angry Azriel and Angsty Azriel

Triggers: None really, pretty safe again.

It was midday when Azriel arrived at the House of Wind. He’d flown right into the living room, where ultimately, he’d hoped no one was at the time.

Nesta and Cassian usually finished up training at this time of day. At least, on the weekends. As much as he loved his dear siblings, Azriel just— Lacked any capacity to linger and talk. Not right now.

He was utterly exhausted. After all, enduring a day of work with no more than three hours of sleep under his belt was no easy feat. At his luckiest, he’d been able to squeeze in five hours of sleep a night. But of course, the night before was not such a night.

Before Azriel could even make way for the stairwell, the hearth in the center of the room lit ablaze. The House of Wind itself, the magical spectacle it had become, was inviting him to sit.

A cup of tea appeared on one of the tables by the warmth, right in front of the crimson chaise longue. The aroma he instantly recognized— Lavender. Near the cup sat a teaspoon, a jar of honey, and a small pitcher full of hot milk.

The corner of his lips twitched in bemusement. Even the House knew how he was feeling, knew what he needed. Azriel stood there, reluctant to make a choice. He hadn’t eaten all day, hadn’t put anything in his system. But he was still exhausted—

A small plate of fresh sugar cookies appeared by the tea. It seemed the House was trying its best to convince him, to coax him in. It was better than nothing, he supposed.

Azriel obliged, taking his time to sit down and mix his tea the way he liked it, even tasting one of the sugar cookies.

Truth be told, Azriel liked sweets quite a lot. Though he often refrained from eating them. Sometimes they were too sweet and others, he merely didn’t have a craving for them. His mood was more often than not the killer of his appetite for all things.

After a short time, Azriel had finished his tea and a number of the cookies. He stood, the assortment disappearing from the table as he’d done so.

They’re coming. His shadows tickled at his ears as they relayed their findings. They’re coming.

Nesta and Cassian had finally finished their exercises for the day, it seemed. They were making their way up from the training pit, no doubt.

As expected, the mated pair entered the living room, bantering about whatever the topic was at hand. Then they saw him, appearing to be quite unsurprised. Perhaps they sensed him before they even made their way around the corner.

“Azriel,” Nesta, dressed in training leathers and glistening in drying sweat, smiled at him in greeting. “You’re back early.”

The shadowsinger exchanged a bland smile in return, “I just flew in.” His words were short as ever.

“Are you alright Az? You look like shit.” Of course Cassian spouted his nonsense. He knew his brother was saying it out of concern, it was practically written all over his face. But if even he went through the trouble to say such a thing, Azriel really must’ve looked the part.

Nesta slapped her mate’s arm as to scold him. She then faced Azriel in question, her brows scrunched slightly. After all of that, she too was waiting for an answer.

“I’m fine.” He looked away from them, eyes cast down to the carpet. “Just tired.” Well, it wasn’t a lie but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

“Are you going upstairs?” To sleep. Yes, she must’ve known that he would. She always did, the perceptive female.

Azriel merely nodded, tucking his wings in tight. Nesta hummed and pulled a stray hair behind her ear, “So then you aren’t coming to dinner tonight? At the townhouse? Everyone will be there.”

Fuck.

He should’ve remembered— Should’ve expected the question no less. Silence filled the room amidst the crackling of the hearth’s embers.

“I don’t think so— Not tonight.” His tone was monotonous at best. He felt guilty about it. Azriel hadn’t seen the little babe in a while and admittedly missed his family but…

Nesta gave him a knowing look, the hint of sadness in her icy blue eyes had said it all. She knew exactly why he wasn’t going, aside from his obvious exhaustion.

She then gave him a comforting smile, “That’s okay. Go up and rest then. Sleep well.”

Cassian crossed his arms, “I can bring you a plate if you want.” He was serious. Perhaps he knew something was up too.

Azriel shook his head as he ascended the stairs, reassuring his brother that he’ll be just fine without one. Cassian didn’t fight with him on the matter, knowing damn well not to, he supposed. Azriel knew how stubborn he was, hated himself for it in fact. But he couldn’t stop being that way. It was just— How he was.

When he made it into his room, he took notice of the folded towel that was placed neatly on his made bed, alongside the faint sound of running water from the bathroom. The House was back at it again. This time, he didn’t hesitate.

The steam of the bath had helped to relieve his aching body at least— but not the pounding headache that had started in the middle of it. He was always prone to them, even more so now with the stress that he dealt with on a day to day basis. Of course, he had headache medicine but even then—

His hazel eyes focused onto the small glass bottle that sat on the bedside table. The purple bow tied around the bottle’s neck was virtually untouched. Unopened, judging by the fullness of the contents within it. Azriel had never opened it.

And now, beside the bottle laid the small box that was also given to him. Those earplugs. Regardless of how that night had transpired, how it spiraled so badly, he’d kept them too.

Azriel sighed as he finished tying the strings on his night pants, sauntering over to lay on his bed afterwards. He laid on his bare stomach, bracing his head in his arms atop one of his silk pillows. He sprawled his massive wings and got comfortable, turning his head to eye the glass bottle of headache powder and the thin blue box beside it.

The male couldn’t help but stare, couldn’t help the urge to reach out and brush his fingers over the lid of the box that contained the ear plugs.

His heart hurt. It hurt so much. He couldn’t help how he felt, how he missed that beautiful and utterly perfect female.

“You are to stay away from her.”

Rhys’ cruel and traitorous words echoed through the dark pits of his addled brain.

Even after his initial denial, after spitefully wishing to disobey his own High Lord outright, his own brother— Azriel ultimately fell in line. Because he was High Lord, because of the hurt that he so vividly recalled seeing in Elain’s eyes after his harsh words had struck her in the heart. Because he didn’t deserve her anyway.

No matter what, she was too good for him. Too good for that male, Lucien. Too good for anyone. No matter how much Azriel loved her and yearned for her touch, to be the subject of her smile— He couldn’t—

He barely even had the heart to see her face after that night. And family dinners… Well, Elain was always there. She was the beating heart of the family in his eyes. Soft and ever giving, ever loving. She always worked endlessly to provide the best food and desserts to the ones she cared for.

And if Lucien was there too, oh he couldn’t stand it. The overwhelming scent of that bond. The stench of it. For whatever reason, it had always made him feel ill. Gave him headaches, physically sickened him— Made his own bowels churn. It was positively revolting to his nose. To his being.

And so he could never allow himself to stay long. To stay close by. As much as he wanted to, as much as he wanted to see the adorable heir that was his nephew. As much as he wanted to see Elain herself. It was why he so often skipped those lovely dinners. Why he so often distanced himself from his own loved ones, as much as it hurt.

In the time that he allowed his thoughts to pester his mind, to agonize over everything once again, his shadows had condensed around him— Enveloped him like bees protecting their hive from the harshness of the world. Azriel ignored them, ignored their whispers and mutterings as he closed his eyes. Sleep took him soon after.

~ ~ ~

Read the rest here.

[thegreymoon]

I am really not the target demographic for Red, White and Royal Blue and honestly, the entire premise sounds dumb af from where I'm sitting, but all the gifs that crossed my dash looked hilarious and that main actor is beyond gorgeous, so I am going to give it a shot tonight. My expectations are so low, that unless this movie gets a shovel and starts digging, there is no chance it cannot exceed them. I am so ready to eat my words, just give me some pretty people, mindless fluff and basic comedy and I will be happy, I swear!

***

TWO FUCKING HOURS?

You guys, I'm going to be honest here, I don't think I have it in me to sit through this 😭😭

***

LOL, only a younger brother 🤣🤣 They did not have the guts to go all in and make him the heir to the throne.

Also, lol @ "Prince of England's hearts" but even more so at "whom all the world adores" 🤣🤣 I cannot. I am absolutely not the target demographic for this and I don't think I have it in me to just go along with this, fictional British royal family or not. Who speaks like this? Who even believes it?

Anyway. Abolish the monarchy, Guillotine them all. Long live the glorious revolution!

***

LMFAO 🤣🤣

Well, at least he looks equally disgusted.

If we can't off the royal family, how about we just off this news announcer? Because I am getting so much second-hand embarrassment.

***

LMAO, OK, he gets ONE point 🤣🤣

OK, fine, two points, because he is stupid beautiful and the reason I sat down to watch this in the first place 😤

***

Yassss, girlfriend has great taste!

I'm two minutes in and so far, she's my favourite. I would totally watch a two-hour movie of her touring London and giving commentary on the yumminess of various guys she encounters.

***

LMAO, is he going to get hammered and smash the obscene 75-thousand-pound cake? 🤣🤣

Because why else would they mention that price point and also show the cake in all its humongous 8-tier glory 🤣🤣

Here for the diplomatic incident, ngl, I would totally read the shit out of that in the tabloids the next day 🤣🤣

***

NOOOOO, THE CAKE IS RIGHT BEHIND THEM!

THEY WILL TOTALLY TOPPLE THAT CAKE!

***

Okay, I am laughing 🤣🤣

***

SCREAMING 🤣🤣

I saw it coming from a mile away, but goddamn, it DELIVERED! 🤣🤣

***

I can't stop laughing 🤣🤣

Watching this was such a good decision 🤣🤣

***

LOL, if this was a real-life event, I would spend a week gleefully reblogging it on Tumblr, no lie 🤣🤣

Also, it is a 9-TIER CAKE, not 8 🤣🤣 The more, the messier!

***

LMFAO 🤣🤣

Also, OMG! Uma Thurman! 😍 It's been a hundred years since I watched her in anything!

***

"Sunshine of my heart" 🤣🤣

This movie is hilarious 🤣🤣

***

Wait, Sarah Shahi??

I loved her in Life! I also watched Fairly Legal for her and thought she was stunning in The L Word! I'm forever bitter we never got to see that Nancy Drew adaptation with her in the main role 😕

***

The thing that is the most difficult for me to suspend my disbelief for is the idea that these two overly privileged young men involved in their countries' respective politics are actually nice people.

I keep chanting to myself, "You are not here for realism! You are not here for realism! YOU ARE NOT HERE FOR REALISM!"

To varying levels of success 😕

***

Romantic comedies are so not my genre. And I am so not here for ex-boyfriends or whatever this guy is.

I need Alex and Henry to get back together ASAP and start smashing cakes again because I'm starting to get bored.

***

These are gutter-level jokes.

Seriously, they couldn't get more creative?

***

They have the most basic taste in literature ever. It doesn't even feel authentic, more like what a nineteen-year-old girl thinks good taste in literature should look like.

***

I feel like I am extremely uncharitable towards this movie (the cake thing was funny tho) but it is very hard to take their bland flirting, pedestrian romance and pathetic humour seriously when you're coming into this from 2ha 😕 The standards that have been set are on another planet compared to what we are being given here.

***

Please 😭

And smash another cake, otherwise I don't know how I'm going to make it through another hour-and-a-half of this 😭😭

***

The things I will watch for pretty people 😭

He truly is stupid beautiful and makes this thing infinitely more watchable every time he's on screen.

***

I'm with Henry on this one, this party is like something straight out of my worst nightmares and crushing on the tall, hot guy seems like the only tolerable thing in this whole hellscape.

***

Aww, baby, he is not having a good time.

He wants to kiss him for New Year's too!

***

LOL.

Well. That escalated 🤣🤣

***

NOOOOO, WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST STARING AFTER HIM?

RUN AFTER HIM AND TELL HIM IT'S OK AND THAT YOU SHOULD CONTINUE SOMEWHERE BEHIND CLOSED DOORS!!

***

And some women! 👀

She's my favourite character in this thing, lol, followed closely by Sarah Shahi and Uma Thurman. And then Prince Henry 😅

***

This guy stands no chance to the level that it's embarrassing he still keeps trying.

I almost feel sorry for him, but I kinda have the feeling that he's going to be the one to out Alex and Henry, so my sympathy is very shallow. Just know when you've lost, my man, and MOVE ON.

[sieglinde-freud]

so the way endings in awakening work is a bit off if you have the gay mod because it reads single people normally, but married people have the man’s ending read, and then his wife just. attached. and so that alters which ending you see for both of them. unfortunately, that means if i have f/f pairs, which most of them were, i dont get to see any because none of them were read. and at least with the second gen, i did almost entirely f/f pairs, which dont show up, or m/m pairs, which had nothing written, so. everyone please give it up for gerome and cynthia, the only second gen ending i got to see!

😭😭 good for them!!! anyways unorganized final thoughts under cut so i dont have to make a whole other post for it

awakening lunatic sucks! but project thabes makes it suck a little less. in all honesty i had a lot of fun, awakenings a good game to revisit, and finding a way to make it challenging while being able to use my favorite units (awakening second gen) ever was awesome. normally having all 13 (or 14 in this case, with both morgans) would break the game, but lunatic kept the enemies strong, so it didnt matter what my units had. i actually got overwhelmed a lot 😭 HUGE difficulty jump between hard and lunatic all i’m saying. and then the games like “hey now u have lunatic+ if that interests you” NOOOOO THANKS.

anyways. here are my top three guys according to the medal thingies at the end

im so proud of them :3 of all the kids really but yeah these three were huge standouts. virion actually got a change in the mod where one of his subclasses was swapped for myrmidon, so yarne got to inherit astra which was actually insane? it procced ALL THE TIME so. that was crazy. chrom!inigo and fred!cynthia are always good thats not new but they were really clutch in the last few chapters. i had them both hopping around classes for most of the game bc thabes redoes skill progression so. IT TOOK CYNTHIA SO LONG TO LEARN LUNA. ITS FROM WYVERN LORD. GOD. she went through a LOT of classes yall dont even know. also honorable mention to marc and morgan, the best rallybots ever, and dancer lucina, who was outserving everyone she was in a scene with. my girl.

like ok serving cunt on the back of the god youre about to kill? get it girl!

anyways so for second gen pairs i did: lucina/f!morgan, owain/m!morgan, inigo/laurent, yarne/brady, severa/kjelle, nah/noire, and cynthia/gerome and you know what. i think i have a great taste. a lot of these were born from being unable to do other pairings but thats ok. i liked how it turned out. though i was gonna do nah/noire anyways because they were actually like. an insane duo. honestly im surprised noire didnt get a medal thing bc i feel like her nostanking with nah backing her up got me out of so much shit. maybe its because i didnt see her ending… oh. oh wait thats probably it. well. anyways.

i think awakening is not a properly balanced game, nor are the maps made for a difficulty like this. towards the end game especially, the maps are just. flat. most of them anyways, and they just become really repetitive and bland and boring. and despite this being the game with the tactician character of all the time, they dont really allow you flexible strategies, because if youre not pair up stat stacking, you will die! and that sucks. mid game is alright, but the last arc is really weak and kinda dampered my whole experience. im glad i did it, but i wouldnt actually reccomend it to anyone unless you like to play like that (which is totally fine! its just not my thing). definitely requires some solid planning as well. all in all, not the worst fire emblem ive played but… well. im not doing it again. ok anyways heres inigo mouthing off at grima

[doggernaut]

Role reversal AU?

This AU, unfortunately, is very far down the list of things I'm likely to finish, mainly because it's a much bigger fic than I have time to write at the moment. It was originally a prompt I chose for last year's @omgauplease fest, but between school work and marathon training I just didn't have enough time to devote to it. 

The gist of the prompt was a role reversal fic where Bitty is a cocky, closeted figure skater who's about to spin out of control and Jack, having gone through something similar, is the only one who recognizes what's happening to Bitty.

To make it more of a role reversal, after Jack's overdose he took up baking and started taking hockey a lot less seriously. So while he is still captain of SMH in this AU, and professional hockey is still a goal he's working toward at the beginning of the fic, baking professionally becomes his primary ambition as the fic progresses.

Looking at what I've already written and what I have planned, I really would like to finish this fic someday; I just can't give it the attention it requires at the moment. But here is a fun (I think) interaction involving Ransom and Holster:

The muffins are cooling on a rack by the time Ransom and Holster finally make it down an hour later, dressed in their khaki shorts and polo shirts emblazoned with the name of the golf course they work at. “Dude, Shitty said there are new muffins?” Ransom asks while Holster pulls two Gatorades from the fridge.  Jack grabs two egg and spinach muffins off the cooling rack and hands them over. “Something new.” Holster eyes the muffin skeptically. “Fucking hell, Jack, what’s the deal with these muffins? They look like the Incredible Hulk took a shit.” “That’s spinach.” And Holster’s not exactly wrong about their visual description, but Jack isn’t going to give him the satisfaction of agreeing with him. “What happened to the cinnamon streusel?” Ransom asks. “Those were fucking incredible.” “I’m trying something new. We don’t need to have dessert for breakfast every day, especially with morning practices starting soon. These will give you energy for the day.” “They taste like ass and make me want to die,” Holster says dramatically. That’s actually good feedback. Jack had thought they were a little bland. Next batch, he’ll add some Tabasco. Despite Holster’s less-than-stellar review, Ransom and Holster each take a second muffin. “Hey,” Jack says, taking advantage of the fact that the guys’ mouths are full and they can’t interrupt him, “there’s this guy who keeps rushing me off the ice every morning. Figure skater. You have any idea who he is?” “Like, a student?” Holster asks. “Or just somebody using the rink?” Jack shrugs. “I get the feeling he goes here, but I’ve never asked.” “You could, you know. Ask. Like a normal person. Unless … Jack, do you have a crush?” “No,” Jack says emphatically. Why do people keep thinking that? “I just want to know who he is and why he’s using the rink. I don’t want problems when practices start up.” “Fine, we’ll do some recon.” Holster sighs, as if it’s a huge chore and not one of their favorite pastimes. Somehow, despite only being rising sophomores, Ransom and Holster are Facebook friends with half the college students in the entire state of Massachusetts. Or, at least the athletes. Jack’s positive that somebody in their vast network will know who this guy is. “But you know you could just ask him,” Ransom reminds Jack. “Like a normal person.” 

It’s three days before the guys get back to Jack. Three days in which he does not talk to the guy “like a normal person” because Jack has been getting up even earlier to make sure he’s out of the rink before the guy arrives. He knows this isn’t sustainable; once regular classes and practices start up he’ll no longer have the luxury of a mid-day nap. But it works for now. “Yo, Jack!” Ransom calls as they clatter into the Haus, sweaty and disheveled after work. “We got the deets on your figure skater.” Jack sighs. “He’s not my figure skater.” Ransom waves away Jack’s correction. “Whatever, you know who I mean. Do we have any Gatorade?” he asks, sticking his head in the fridge. “It’s Eric Bittle,” Holster says, as if the name is supposed to be of significance. “And?” “Eric. Bittle,” Holster repeats. He pauses to take a swig of the blue Gatorade Ransom’s just passed off to him. “Figure skater, took third at Junior Nationals a few years ago and surprised everyone when he moved up to the men’s division and took thirteenth last year.” “But he’s better known for his social media presence,” Ransom adds. “He’s all over Twitter and Insta, and he’s got this YouTube vlog where he talks about behind the scenes skating stuff and does routines to popular songs. At Nationals he got a couple of guys to do the Single Ladies dance with him and it went viral. I don’t know how you missed it, it was everywhere for like … a week.” “Was it during the season?” Jack barely pays attention to the latest viral trends as it is. Ransom rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Do you want the deets or not?” “Are there more ‘deets?’” “He got dropped by his coach after that video went viral. She said he could have placed in the top five at Nationals if he took skating as seriously as his YouTube career.” “Ouch.” Ransom nods. “Well, yeah. And then he made a rebuttal video accusing his coach of not preparing him well enough for the competition, and that that was the reason he scored so low. Now he can’t find a coach willing to work with him.” “He said that?” Jacks interrupts. “Not in so many words, but this guy at work who plays for BC dates this girl who skates and she heard through the grapevine—” “Okay, okay.” Jack motions for Ransom to continue.  “So he’s here at Samwell. He was supposed to start here last year—“ “There’s an episode of his vlog where he opens his acceptance letter—”  “—but he deferred for a year to focus on skating.” If Ransom and Holster devoted half as much time to working on plays as they apparently have to watching some random figure skater’s YouTube archives, Jack thinks, SMH might have gone a little further in last year’s post-season.  “Our point is, you really should know who he is because he’s the biggest celebrity to attend Samwell since that girl who won a Tony when she was fourteen a few years back,” Holster says. “Way more famous than you,” Ransom adds unnecessarily. Every year Samwell gets one or two high profile students who are famous for one thing or another. Jack didn’t win a Nobel Peace Prize as a teenager or star in a long-running Disney Channel show. But his dad won a few Stanley Cups as a professional hockey player and his mom was a supermodel before becoming an actress, so … he’s not the average college student, either. He’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have been selected as one of “Samwell’s Most Beautiful” if his parents weren’t who they are. “So he’s not competing anymore?” Jack asks. Ransom shrugs. “The last video he posted was right before he left to come here. He said he’s going to focus on school for a while and coach himself.” “Huh.” None of this is what Jack expected to learn, but he can’t deny he’s intrigued. “Thanks.” Holster downs the last of the Gatorade in one gulp and belches. “This one was a freebie. Next time you require our shit excavation services, we’re gonna need you to pay us in muffins.”