#pink sausage unit

[peppermintquartz]

"Evan?"

"Yes, babe?"

"Were you ever interested in Eddie?"

Buck nearly chokes on his juice. Coughing, he waves aside Tommy's startled concern. "Uh, I kinda need to. Okay. Are we talking in general or, like, specifically romantic attraction? Sexual attraction?"

Tommy shrugs. He's still shirtless at the moment, which means the morning light gilds his chest (and chest hair) in gold and bronze. Buck has seen this sight for months now, and he still utters a silent thanks to God for making Tommy's nipples ultra sensitive.

"Evan?" The older man tilts his head quizzically.

Oh, right. Buck sits back in his chair. "I guess I did kinda feel some way about him when he first showed up? I mean, he's good-looking. And he has very pretty eyes."

Tommy is chewing on a bite of sausage. "So how come you never made a move on him?"

"I don't know. Never thought about it, really. I mean, once he showed me Christopher, I just wanted to know more about the kid." Buck takes another careful sip of his guava juice. "And after that, either I was dating someone or he was dating. We were just punks trying to get through our own stuff. I never even considered it." He frowns at Tommy. "Why? What's got you asking?"

Tommy glances at his scrambled eggs and shifts in his seat. "Last night, when I was out with Hen and Chimney, they talked about you two being best buds. And Hen said that she'd thought you two would've made a cute couple." His cheeks flush a dark pink. "That was after several rounds of drinks, but, uh, it stuck in my head."

Feeling annoyed at Hen, Buck reaches under the table to pat Tommy's knee, knowing that it will be restlessly bouncing. His boyfriend, Mr Tommy "So Cool" Kinard, needing Buck's reassurance before he can once again be at ease in his skin. It makes Buck feel warm and protective.

"Maybe only in appearance," says Buck, thinking through the issue. "But our personalities would clash if we dated, I think. I mean, I'm not good at giving people space. I'd have smothered him by week two. You don't mind telling me if you need to be alone for a bit, and I like that you always let me know when you're ready to be us again. I don't think Eddie would ever say that until he's fed up, and then he'd shout it or give me the cold shoulder."

"You two seem to do well together as a unit though. And you love Christopher."

"Christopher is lovable because of who he is, not because I know his dad," Buck says, a little sharply. He squeezes Tommy's knee. It stops moving. "Eddie and I are best friends, and we love each other. But... I've seen him almost die, twice, and I would think that if I felt romantic love for him, that would have been the moment, you know? Buried in mud. Almost losing him to a bullet. But all I felt was terror of losing a friend I trust, and having to tell Chris about it if the worst happened."

Buck can't hide the tremor in his voice, and now it's Tommy's turn to hold his hand.

"I'm sorry you both had to go through that," Tommy says sincerely, his gaze soft.

Taking a deep breath, Buck exhales and smiles at his boyfriend. "With you, I just wanted to, I don't know, I was curious about you, about everything that had to do with you. I thought I only wanted to be your friend, and yet I was so upset after Eddie and you took off to watch the fight in Vegas, I kinda... Well, I was actually angry at Eddie, looking back on it. Irrationally so. I've never felt that sort of jealousy. And, yes, I did think it was because of Eddie that I was jealous, but the moment I saw you on the basketball court I wasn't angry at you at all. I was... Well, I was happy to see you."

Tommy chuckles. "I was trying not to show how happy I was to see you there too."

"So, yeah," says Buck. "Long roundabout way to say that yes, I did think Eddie is attractive, because I have eyes, but I've never felt giddy and light the way I do when you smile at me. Both of you make me happy, in different ways." He leans over to peck a kiss on Tommy's stubbled cheek. "I'm the luckiest man in the world."

Tommy relaxes. "No, I am." He takes Buck by the chin, exactly how he did it that first time, and draws Buck in for a proper kiss. "Thank you. Didn't know I needed to hear that until I did."

"I'm glad you asked," says Buck, "instead of stewing over it until it drives you mad. And I'll always be honest with you, okay? I promise."

"Ditto," replies Tommy, kissing Buck again, just because.

--

edited on AO3

[veritas-scribblings]

stare - @bartylusmicrofic - words: 859

[inspired by @aurorboros's post]

Regulus wakes up to a quiet, dimly lit dormitory. The morning light is visible through the windows, illuminating the water within the Great Lake. Evan is dead to the world, having burrowed his way into his blankets, which he has wrapped around himself like a cocoon. Barty, as always, has woken up with the sun and is nowhere to be found.

Without Barty, Regulus’s bed feels cold. After so many years of Barty climbing into bed with him, sleeping alone always feels empty and strange. He misses the warmth of Barty—Barty always runs so warm—and the weight of Barty’s body next to him, draped over him.

Exhausted and with a head full of what feels like wild, raging pixies, Regulus grabs the jersey draped over the end of his bed and pulls it on. The jersey is navy blue and gold with the Puddlemere United logo on the front and BARTY 73 written across the back in big, bold lettering. Regulus had gifted Barty this jersey for Christmas back in their second year. At the time, he’d had it made several sizes too big as he had wanted Barty to be able to wear it for a long, long time.

It had basically been a dress on Barty for a while, though it had still been a consistent feature in his wardrobe. On the weekend. In the evening. To class, where he’d ended up with several detentions for being out of uniform. Barty had worn it every chance he’d gotten until Dorcas had commented that if he keeps it up, the jersey will fall to bits.

Now, three years later, the jersey finally fits Barty appropriately as he’d shot up like a bean pole over the summer. On Regulus, however, the jersey hangs around his torso, draping down slightly on his shoulders. It smells wonderfully like Barty: musky and woody with an undertone of spice. And something else, something very, very Barty that Regulus can only describe as a scent that is distinctly male.

Regulus tugs on a pair of tracksuit bottoms and stumbles upstairs. Dorcas and Barty are sitting alone by the fireplace in the common room, Barty with his back resting against Dorcas and his legs propped up on the arm rest. There’s a small spread of food on the coffee table because Barty, Slytherin’s resident insomniac, has befriended the house elves. Though Barty is under the impression that they’re thrilled to feed him whatever he wants, Regulus suspects that they just give him the food to get rid of him.

‘Morning.’ Regulus yawns, drops himself down onto the couch next Barty and grabs one of the breakfast rolls of the platter. It’s stuffed with sausage and fried egg and mushrooms and black pudding and hash browns and every possible kind of food that will clog their arteries and cause a young death.

Regulus turns to Barty, frowning. Early morning, Barty is normally wired from too much coffee and lack of sleep and hours left up to his own devices with no one awake to keep him company. Shutting him up is the problem Regulus will typically have to deal with, not whatever is currently missing within Barty’s brain.

Barty blinks back at Regulus. His cheeks are a little bit pink. His eyes are wide, his lips parted in an expression that Regulus can’t quite puzzle out.

‘You’re…’ The sentence ends, like Barty is at a loss for words. ‘You’re…’

Inclining his head quizzically, Regulus takes another bite of the breakfast roll. After all the drinking they’d done the night before, the fatty meat and crunchy hash browns and crusty bread cut through the remnants of his prior buzz quite nicely.

‘You’re…’ Barty repeats. Grease and brown sauce drips from his breakfast roll down his fingers, but he doesn’t seem to notice. ‘My…’

Next to Barty, Dorcas snorts and shoves him off her. Barty goes tumbling to the side, his breakfast roll falling to the floor. He doesn’t even seem to notice. His gaze never leaves Regulus. There’s a smear of brown sauce on his lips that Regulus wouldn’t mind licking off. If he didn’t think that Dorcas would shove him off the couch for such a public display of affection.

‘So intelligent, they tell me,’ Dorcas says, peering over at Barty, ‘and yet, not a candle lit in the house. What Bartemius is trying to say is—’ She pauses and waits for a reaction from Barty who notoriously loathes the use of his full name, but Barty still doesn’t speak. And then, with a roll of her eyes, she explains, ‘Lil’ Boo’s malfunctioning because of your choice of attire.’

Regulus looks down at the jersey he’s wearing.

‘You’re…wearing…my top,’ Barty finally breathes out weakly. ‘Why?’

Regulus shrugs. ‘Because I can,’ he says before taking another bite out of his breakfast roll and chewing slowly, just to make Barty wait for the rest of his thought. It’s kind of nice, Regulus thinks, watching the way Barty is unable to string together a coherent sentence. The realisation that it is Regulus who has done this to Barty. ‘I like that it smells like you.’

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Commander's Omega"

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: alpha/omega, dystopia, sex slavery, forced breeding, mutilation, rape, corporal punishment, fascism, hurt/comfort, power imbalance, mpreg, age gap (38/23), mentions of abortion, miscarriage

Summary: After years of a mass infertility crisis, the United States is overtaken by religious fanatics, and Bucky Barnes finds himself thrust into a brutal world of survival. When he's discovered to be fertile, he's forced to serve as a vessel: a caste of omegas who bear children for the political elite.

Chapter V. Shredder

Story Masterlist

Before:

Bucky rushes to the bathroom when the cramps get too painful, sure that something bad—he doesn’t know what, just something—is going to happen. He pulls down his pants and sits on the toilet, hand pressed against his belly. He’s barely started to swell. It’s only noticeable to him because he was always in such good shape before. Twenty weeks is finally enough to make him look pregnant, at least when he has his clothes off.

“Ah!” He cries out, trying to stifle the sound as pain flashes through him. He can’t let the Putnams hear, he can’t. His insides hurt in a way that they’re definitely not supposed to, and Bucky feels scared. Even though he’s almost twenty two-years old and it’s ridiculous, he wishes that his mom was here with him. She’d know what to do. And even if she didn’t, he’d still be with his mom, not all alone in the Putnams' cold basement bathroom. 

He removes his hand from his stomach and reaches between his legs with trembling fingers. When he brings them back forward to look, there’s fresh blood. Bucky whimpers. 

Red. He’s so fucking sick of red.

-

It takes almost two hours, but eventually Bucky’s body pushes out the baby—though “baby” is a strong word for it. It’s small and bloody, the size of a lemon. And it’s shaped wrong. Bucky catches it in his hands before it can fall into the toilet water. Something about that just seems so wrong. He can’t let it go in there, even if it’s just going to be buried or thrown away in the end. For now it’s his, and he’ll treat it the way it deserves.

“Hey,” he whispers tearily to it, once the cramping’s gone away and he’s just left cold and messy and alone. He pulls his pants back up and lies down on the cool bathroom tile, using the bathmat as a sort of pillow. In his hand he cups the fetus, mournful in a way he never thought he could be for something he never wanted in the first place. “M’sorry,” he tells it. “I tried.”

He really had. Having a baby is the only way for a criminally-convicted omega like him to avoid being sent away. And he’s only got five years to do it. After eight months with the Putnams, he’d been excited to get pregnant—Not because he’d wanted to be violated and knocked-up and forced to give away a child, but because it gave him hope that he might be able to avoid the toxic wasteland of the colonies. If he can’t produce a baby for Gilead, that’s where he’ll go.

Eventually, he has to gather the courage to get himself up off the bathroom floor and cleaned off. He unrolls a bunch of toilet paper and lays the fetus on it, not knowing what else to do. Then he runs a bath and gets in, and watches as the water turns pink.

Downstairs, Commander and Mrs. Putnam are having their Sunday morning breakfast. The table’s covered with tureens of sausages and eggs and waffles—more food than the two of them will ever eat. Once they’re done, the household staff will get to split what’s left. Bucky walks into the dining room to the sight of the Commander on his tablet and Mrs. Putnam pouring herself more orange juice. He waits quietly by the doorway to be noticed.

“Ofwarren,” Mrs. Putnam says when she notices him. “Good morning! Blessed be the fruit.” Her face lights up with a smile for Bucky, something it’s only done since she found out that he’s pregnant.

Bucky can’t bring himself to speak, nerves twisting his guts into knots. 

As if he senses this, Commander Warren looks up from his tablet. “Did you want to take some breakfast from the table?” he asks amicably. 

Ever since Bucky’s pregnancy was discovered, he’s been allowed to eat as much as he wants, whenever he wants. No more waiting for prescribed meal times. It’s a privilege that he’s going to miss. “No,” he whispers. “No, thank you. I um, I have something I have to tell you.” God, he’s never been so nervous in his life. What will they do to him?

Both the Putnams are paying attention to him now. They still have pleasant sets to their faces. Not for long. “What is it?” Mrs. Putnam asks.

Bucky has to try several times before he can force enough air past his vocal cords. “I … I lost the baby.”

Complete, utter silence. Commander Warren sets his tablet down, eyes immediately flicking to his wife. Mrs. Putnam has tightened her fingers around her orange juice glass so hard that Bucky fears it might break.

“I’m so sorry!” he says hurriedly, because he is. God, he is! He’s scared shitless right now. “I-I didn’t—”

“Get out of here,” Mrs. Putnam gasps. She sounds like the air’s been punched out of her. When Bucky doesn’t immediately move, her eyes darken and she smacks the table, rattling the silverware. “Get out!”

Bucky turns and runs from the room.

-

A servant comes down to the basement later, to take the fetus away. Bucky never does find out what they do with it.

After:

Bucky takes to spending the evenings with Steve in his office. It’s nice. As the weather gets colder, Steve makes a habit of keeping a fire going in the fireplace, and each night, Bucky pulls one of the couches a little closer to the hearth to read. He goes through several science fiction novels before he finally has the courage to take down a book about politics—old politics, from how the world used to be, but still interesting. It’d been written by some liberal pundit, and Bucky finds himself smirking once or twice while he reads.

Steve looks up from where he’s working at his desk, smiling at Bucky when he notices him. “What’s funny?” he asks.

Bucky tenses up. “What? Nothing.” Steve quirks an eyebrow, and Bucky shifts uncomfortably. “It’s just a joke in here,” he excuses, indicating the book. He doesn’t mention how the joke is at the expense of Christian nationalists. The book had been written back when The Faithful were still worth making fun of. “It’s nothing,” he says again, and averts his eyes back to his reading.

Steve sighs. Bucky hears the desk chair roll out, and then Steve is coming over to sit next to him on the couch. He doesn’t get too close, which Bucky is grateful for (Commander Warren would’ve been demanding blow jobs by now). But so far, Steve has proven to be about as different from Commander Warren as a man could be. “Bucky,” Steve says. “I wish you wouldn’t be nervous of me.”

Bucky’s eyes flick over, not quite making it up to Steve’s face. “Sorry,” he murmurs.

“No, that’s not—” Steve huffs, frustrated. “You don’t need to apologize.”

Bucky has to cut himself off from immediately saying ‘sorry’ again. Old habits. He sets the book over the arm of the couch, saving his spot. “I’m not used to this,” he admits. 

“What do you mean?”

He purses his lips, still unable to meet Steve’s eyes. “I dunno. Just … You don’t get mad at me about stuff, okay? You let me come in here and, and read.” He says ‘read’ in a whisper, like it’s something awful, not to be uttered aloud. “You eat meals at the table with everyone else, and you talk to me. And you haven’t—” he cuts off uncomfortably.

“What?” Steve cants his head. “I haven’t what?”

Bucky shakes his head. “You’re just different. I don’t know what to expect with you.” He nearly jumps when Steve’s hand comes over and envelops his own on top of the couch cushion. It’s large and warm, and the simple contact makes goosebumps prick to the surface of Bucky’s skin.

 “You can expect to be treated like a human being,” Steve tells him. “Because that’s what you are.”

Bucky winces. “M’not used to that either.”

“I’dve hoped you could trust me a little better by now,” Steve chides, eyeing up Bucky’s book pointedly. “I told you my household is different.”

“Yeah but you never explained what that means,” Bucky snaps. “I mean, that could mean anything. You know?”

“What do you want to ask me, then?” Steve challenges. “You can ask questions, Bucky.”

“Well aren’t you—” he cuts himself off, shocked at the reckless question he almost lets slip through his lips.

“Aren’t I what?” Steve presses, staring him down. “Ask me, Bucky. Ask the question.”

Bucky looks him in the eye, confused and scared, unable to get the words out for a few more long seconds. Then, finally, he breathes, “... Aren’t you a True Believer?” Steve gets very still, his expression like stone, and for one terrible, all-consuming instant, Bucky is sure that he’s signed his own death warrant. “I’m sorry!” he blurts, sure that he’s finally done it; he’s finally said the thing that’s going to get him executed, or sent off to the col—

“I’m not.”

He falters, his mouth still open from the next preemptive apology he’d been about to fling out. “What?” he says weakly, trying to figure out how to put “I’m not” into a context that makes any kind of sense—because what Steve’s just said could get him arrested, could get him put to death, and Bucky and all the rest of his household reassigned to another Commander. But fraught seconds tick by, and he comes up with nothing, the “I’m not” hanging in the air between them like a baited hook with no fish, like a noose waiting to be filled. “S-steve?” he whispers. “I don’t understand. You’re n—”

“Not a True Believer,” Steve finishes for him, nodding somberly. He’s deathly serious, Bucky realizes, and he’s looking at Bucky in a way that says he’s completely aware of the vulnerable position in which he’s just put himself, by admitting it. He watches Bucky appraisingly. “And I get the feeling you’re not, either.”

Bucky doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t have the courage that Steve does. He can’t just … just make himself say it. Not out loud. “But you’re a Commander,” he blurts. “How did you get to be a Commander if you weren’t … if you aren’t a—”

“I worked my way up,” Steve says. “I joined the Sons of Jacob before congress was assassinated. I pretended.”

Bucky can hardly believe what he’s hearing. Steve is admitting to treason right now, and he’s admitting it to Bucky. “But why?” 

Steve’s expression turns guarded as he measures out his words. “Because it was my mission,” he says. “It still is.”

“Mission?”

He nods. “We knew something big was in the works, just not how big. I didn’t know—” He cuts himself off, looking pained. “We were put in place to infiltrate the Party of The Faithful. To assess the threat, to try and stop whatever they were planning.”

“We?” Bucky echoes. “Who is ‘we’?”

Steve shakes his head. “I can’t tell you any more, I’m sorry."

Too late, Bucky wants to say. Steve’s told him too much already. “So you’re just telling me this? That you’re some kind of a … a what? A sleeper agent?” He scowls. “You and what army?”

“It doesn’t take an army,” Steve snaps, surprising Bucky with the quiet vitriol in his voice.

Bucky blinks at him, sees the regret flash across his face, and realizes something. “Natasha and Sam,” he breathes, clocking the slight widening of Steve’s pupils. “And Clint, and Sharon?” Steve’s lips thin but he nods, and Bucky exhales hugely. “Well shit.” 

“It’s okay, Buck. We’re very careful.”

He scoffs, feeling dazed. “So, all five of you,” he says weakly. He can’t imagine what Steve and just a few other people could possibly achieve, what they could possibly do to overthrow the whole regime. Gilead is the new United States. A fledgling nation, sure, but with all the same resources that its predecessor had, and more: Weapons, infrastructure, military, a secret police, an extensive surveillance apparatus. From what little Bucky’s been able to garner these past few years, the only states remaining free of it all are Alaska and the West Coast coalition.

He sits there with Steve in thick, uncomfortable silence for a moment, the crackling of the fire in the hearth the only sound to accompany his racing thoughts.

“Buck?” Steve says gently. “Are you going to be okay?”

One glance up at the alpha’s face is all it takes for Bucky to realize what it is he’s really asking: are you going to keep this to yourself? “Yeah,” Bucky says. “Yeah, I’m good.” He offers Steve what he hopes is a reassuring look. “I’m glad.”

Steve’s shoulders relax, and he offers Bucky a tight-lipped smile that is commiserating, if not altogether pleasant. “Okay. Good.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

Steve pats him on the knee and then gets up from the couch to return to his desk on the other side of the office. He resumes working on his computer, and Bucky picks up his book to resume reading. Or at least he tries to, but the words on the pages blur together meaninglessly. All he can think about now is how Steve—his new Commander, the man who owns him, whom Bucky’s been renamed after—is a member of the resistance.

Steve somehow gets a hold of Bucky’s medical records. He brings it up in discussion on another night spent together in the library. “You had a baby?” he blurts out, from over at his desk.

Bucky’s eyes shoot up. “What?”

Steve guiltily indicates the folder he’s been reading through. “They gave me your medical records.”

Bucky frowns. “Oh.”

“Sorry. I wasn’t trying to invade your privacy.” Bucky snorts, and Steve flusters and clears his throat. “I just … Well, I’m supposed to schedule a doctor’s appointment for you every three months.”

“Oh. Right.” Bucky remembers that the Putnams had done that as well. It was how he’d confirmed he was pregnant in the first place. “Um, I miscarried,” he mumbles.

Steve’s expression dissolves into something too close to pity for Bucky’s liking. “I’m so sorry, Bucky.”

Bucky shrugs from over his book. “I wasn’t that far along.” 

With the fertility crisis being what it is, he’s known a lot of other omegas to miscarry far later on in their pregnancies, or to give birth to non-viable babies that die gasping and shriveled soon after birth. Just the other week, all the neighborhood vessels had been escorted to OfJoseph’s house to see her through the labor and delivery ritual. But once the caretakers pulled the baby out and got a look at it, the fancy party that’d been set up for Commander and Mrs. Lowe in the downstairs parlor had ended in stricken silence and tears.

“It’s not like I was attached or anything,” Bucky says. “And it needed to die.”

Steve balks. “What?”

“It was a shredder. You could tell. Things weren’t … growing right.” Bucky averts his eyes back down to his book, hating to remember. If he’d carried to term, it just would’ve been declared an ‘unbaby’ and gotten rid of. “It was better that it died,” he says.

Steve doesn’t say anything.

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[becauseimanicequeen]

Rewatching Ai Long Nhai and AiNhai

This is part of my Crazy-Ass End-of-Year Rewatch Challenge where I will rewatch some of my favorite shows, some of my least favorite shows, and some shows in between. I pulled another title out of the bowl (yes, I'm letting chance choose for me) and got Ai Long Nhai.

Anyway... I can't promise cohesive thoughts in these posts because it's the end of the year, I'm currently living in right-brain land 10+ hours per day, and I'm TIRED because the darkness of winter is here. You've been warned.

Also, since this is a rewatch, there are spoilers ahead.

Background

I binged this show for the first time in September 2023 and the sequel (AiNhai) right after I finished the show. As I wrote in the compilation post of all the shows I will watch for this challenge, I have them (both the series and the movie) on my rewatch list for reasons I can't remember (which means I'll watch them both).

All I can remember is that it's Meen and Ping in the main roles and that Porsch and Arm are playing Meen's character's (Ai's) parents. I also remember that there's some conflict with Ai's biological mom and that the pacing is pretty slow.

I don't mind slow-paced shows, but after just watching three 8+ episode-long shows in a row that I don't like, I'm not sure I can survive slow-paced right now. So, I'm choosing to watch the movie version of the show instead. It's a little over 2 hours rather than 12 40-minute episodes.

So, let's get into it...

The Show Movie Version of the Show

Well, Ai Long Nhai started off well with Ai getting busy:

Much appreciated.

It continues to deliver with the introduction of Ai's dad (played by Porsch):

And, of course, Ai's dad's partner/husband:

Who is just as much a parent to Ai as his dad.

I think this family unit might've been why I had this show on my rewatch list. With so many fucked up parents in many of the QLs I've watched, it's such a breath of fresh air to get to see great, supporting parents and role models. And let's not forget that they're queer parents, which I need to see more of (I can only remember Gene's dad in Lovely Writer, Yi and Diao in Naughty Babe, the teacher in one of the HIStory shows, and Papa & Daddy off the top of my head right now, but I'm sure I've seen at least a handful more).

Then, the show continues to deliver:

There's a dick joke in here somewhere.

Anyway…

Ai confesses his feelings for Nhai…

With neon lights in blue and pink in the background. And I love the purple vibe there is throughout the scene.

Then I’m pretty sure I remember that they decided to live together for some time so Nhai could figure out his feelings for Ai, but that doesn’t show up in the movie version. Instead, it just jumps to Ai staring at Nhai in bed…

Before Nhai wakes up and kicks Ai out of said bed…

Which happens again…

As they take a break from packing some clothes for Nhai in his room to kiss instead. And even though it resulted in Ai on the floor, again, they both got a hard-on…

And Nhai offers the best solution for the situation…

And I’m loving every second of this.

Then there was what felt like a giant leap in the story, so I went back to the 12-episode show version, skimmed through the omitted scenes, and found some golden nuggets that had been left out. Nhai’s obsession with sausages, for example.

Seriously, if his obsession with sausages isn’t a euphemism for his obsession with dicks (at least his own and Ai’s, anyway), then I don’t know what is.

I also found this nugget:

Which was specifically for me. I’m sad it was cut out of the movie version, though. But, anyway…

I’m glad they kept this scene with Nhai’s dad in the movie:

Because it’s golden!

But I didn't get to laugh long, because then all of Ai's family issues are introduced with his sister's introduction.

And the family issues keep stacking up as we get to see the backstory of why Ai has issues with his mom:

But I'm glad Ai apologized, especially to Jaonan because Ai was an idiot to him before.

And then Nhai practically tells Ai's mom to fuck off when she demands that he breaks up with her son, which was a great scene. And that, somehow, solved it...

Anyway, Nhai refuses to break up with Ai, and they and their friends go on a trip together instead. And we got this ending:

And that’s the end of the movie version of the show. Now, let’s move on to the sequel movie.

AiNhai

It starts with some trouble in paradise as Ai seems preoccupied with something…

And Nhai has no idea what it is.

And while people and relationships do change over time…

As well as feelings…

It seems like Ai lost his memory too because Nhai is notoriously bad at taking directions…

And has a vivid imagination…

But, luckily, he finds the XXX that marks the spot in one piece and gets a proposal, surrounded by family.

And I got a visually stunning ending to the movie, which I’m always grateful for.

And what a beautiful scene to end this on.

I enjoyed watching both Ai Long Nhai and AiNhai, but I also think it was the right choice to watch the movie version of the show and skim some of the scenes that were omitted. I needed something shorter and faster-paced after 3 shows in a row that were on my least favorite shows list for this challenge.

That was short and sweet and I feel like I’m on a roll, so let’s move on to the next rewatch…

[fryingpan1234567]

I have a new favorite ship in Empires and it’s just because of ONE POST by @this-tumbleweed-surecan-fish (yeah it’s that easy to give me a new OTP just ONE POST)

so here have some ship and normal character headcanons in my Empires college au because there is one piece of writing about them out there and it was a short post. literally fuck me

Pix, Joel, Lizzie, and fWhip. that’s the ship. I can’t believe this.

Joel is the tallest out of them and fWhip is the shortest

fWhip and Lizzie are really good at talking and Pix and Joel are really good at listening

They all have ADHD

When they’re in public they usually pretend to be two separate couples because the public isn’t exactly used to polyamory, and none of them are really ‘BE LOUD AND MAKE A DIFFERENCE!!’ people

Lizzie, Pix, and fWhip are all like parents to Hermes (that kid has literally five parental units what)

Speaking of Hermes!! The rest of them know of and are perfectly fine with Sausage, and he and Joel adopt Hermes one day because they find him on the streets and they couldn’t just leave him there, so. ✨child✨

fWhip and Pix are cave bros and love dark/ tight spaces, but Lizzie and Joel hate them

Pix does photography!!

And Joel does bouldering and climbing

As per Fish‘s post, they call each other gf/ bf/ wife/ husband even tho they don’t actually get married lol

Hermes made friends with one of the dodos in the orchard one day when Pix was watching him and now they’re besties; it’s like Disney Hercules and Pegasus

With that plus Lizzie’s zoology; fWhip’s cave creatures, and Sanctuary’s whole deal, he grows up to be a huge animal person

Anyways moving away from Hermes lmao

All of them flirt so aggressively help

MAKING FUN OF JIMMY TOGETHER

If they’re out and someone asks Lizzie if she’s there with anyone, because the four of them are hanging out together, they’ll all just laugh until the guy gets freaked out and leaves

They all get their hair dyed at least a little bit- Lizzie (obviously) goes all pink, Joel has his green stripe, and then Pix gets a navy blue one and fWhip does full teal and green until the roots grow back in orange. The idea was started because Lizzie was getting hers redone and asked if they wanted to participate (her kitten eyes were like a fucking off switch on their strength of will)

Everyone thinks Pix is the responsible one. He’s not. He’s just as crazy as the other three

Lizzie has dubbed herself mayor of all the pets in their dorm building, Joel drinks sketchy protein shakes with all normal ingredients other than a splash of water from the fountain outside the Historical Mythology building, fWhip reads hanging off the couch upside down like a fucking bat. Pix seems normal enough on the surface, but my man single-handedly discovered a new species of fruit trees in 3 variants, a thought to be extinct species, and a machine that’s been around since the beginning of time, and he considers emerald ore to be worth more than his life. He’s pretty far from ‘normal’

Pix runs the campus news channel, and his partners find it adorable and also kind of worrying when they walk into the living room at two in the morning for water to see Pix sitting on the floor, surrounded by stacks of paper and two laptops, three cups of coffee and one of tea, and him in the middle wearing sweats and one of Joel’s shirts/ no top if he couldn’t find any, scrambling to get the next weekly episode out. Once he had to record the voiceover around Hermits, and they harassed him the whole time and threw pencils when he made a bad joke

Lizzie and Pix got American driver’s licenses, but Joel insisted that ‘he was loyally British and he liked being British and unless America changed their shtewpid driving habits, he’d have the rest of them drive him around the whole time’

Dishes never get done in their household I swear to god

Uno/ board games/ video games are a fucking nightmare because they’re all scarily competitive

They like sleeping in one bed, but sometimes it’s too hot for that so there is two beds

They actually do go on trips!! It’s like a thing for birthdays and stuff that they’re taken somewhere

For example, they took Lizzie to the San Diego zoo, fWhip to the Carlsbad Caverns, Pix to the Smithsonian, and Joel to the Parthenon

When one of them is sick, they have a whole lot of simping from the rest of them

fWhip and Lizzie have morning classes, Pix and Joel have late ones (that usually means the first two are making/ getting dinner while the other two are in class)

Anyways. Them <33

[fattest-disney-characters]

One evening night at outside Apartment Building of Southern United States, An 5’5” 43yrs old orange ponytails, unfree-spirited chubbiest body woman name Anna, Anna waddled on sidewalk waddle way home after finishing working at her shift. Anna may be changed from seven years. Anna got pudgiest fat face, triple chin, her Breast are already that fat that they start to burst Out of her messy tank top just unlike her chubbiest single belly flops over. Her fat wide thighs Always Stick together, her fat barefoot are no longer need shoes or boots except socks and slippers. Her big fat Ass gives her pink underwear a wedge and barley fit her ripped jeans. Fattest arms, cinnamon-buns hands, sausage fingers. Anna place cigarette to her lips and sucked in deeply. Moving it away she let out a long breath of smoke as wanted to get home spending time with her big sister/now girlfriend, Elsa and maybe get some shuteye. Anna had white strips on her messy ponytail, few wrinkles and big eyebags, Anna weights 4,847lbs

The inside of the apartament was a complete mess with trash bags at the door waiting to be take to the dumpster, in the kitchen was Anna older sister, a 44 years old woman named Elsa. Elsa had changed as well, her obese body barely fit in the pajamas as her ass cheeks are bigger than yoga balls, her breast is double D and rest on top of her belly

[jeanjauthor]

Ironically, sausage is usually made out of (lightliy) seasoned pork...which is basically what spam is, only sausage is often more heavily seasoned, while spam is far more finely ground. Like, all the way into a paste, which is then stuffed into the tin, sealed, and cooked. Sausage is much more coarsely ground, and shaped into patties or stuffed into casing to make links, which are then chilled, frozen, smoked, dried, etc.

So, even though bacon is usually made out of pork (it can be made out of other things!), it has the least amount of seasoning (may or may not be smoked, salted, and/or peppered)...the "Eggs & Bacon" option is the LEAST spam-y thing on that menu.

...Also, according to my research online, the Spam Sketch aired December 15th, 1970 (before I was born!). On that day, the conversion rate between the Gret British Pound and the United States Dollar was 1 GBP = 2.389502 USD (I have no idea why its value decimals are so long).

So that 35 pounds back them was 83.63(257) dollars.

In today's money, that would be $675.83.

Heckin' expensive Lobster Thermidore!

For comparison, the Eggs & Bacon, at 1.10 pounds, would have been 2.63 dollars in 1970 at that exchange rate, which today would come out to be... $21.25...?

Blimey, even just eggs & bacon was expensive back then!

(...I think they were subsidizing the Spam Spam Spam Spam Spam Spam Baked Beans Spam Spam Spam and Spam.)

(Also if anyone is curious, pederson farms had this to say about non-pork bacon: " Simply put, beef bacon is a variation of regular bacon made from beef rather than pork. Pork bacon is generally made from sliced pork belly. Like traditional bacon, beef bacon can also be made from the beef belly. However, it can also be made from the brisket or round for leaner options. " You can also technically make it out of the belly meat of deer for venison bacon, and I am sure there are mutton variants, too.)

(Lastly, according to SPAM's website, it is made of just 6 ingredients: pork (with ham), salt, water, potato starch, sugar, and sodium nitrite (a preservative salt that gives the meat its distinctive pink hue as well as imparting its own touch of flavor).)

(via the Monty Python fan group over on Facebook)

[menuandprice]

Greggs Menu With Prices [March 2023 Updated]

Greggs is a well-known British chain of bakeries with its headquarters at Newcastle upon Tyne, England. The bakery is best known for serving some delicious food like sausage rolls, wraps, and breakfast bacon along with some refreshing coffee and other beverages. The Greggs menu with prices is also reasonable enough for each customer. The Greggs menu is inclusive of some mouth-watering delicacies starting from sausage rolls, salads, appetizers, sausage breakfast baguettes, and wraps, along with some drinks like latte, coffee, and more. At the bakery-cum café, you get to enjoy the finest of Greggs breakfast and pair it up with a refreshing beverage to keep you good for the day. The Greggs price list is equally attractive as its scrumptious food. This article highlights the real Greggs menu and prices so that when you find a ‘Greggs near me’, you have prior knowledge about their menu prices.

Greggs Menu With Prices

Breakfast Menu Prices Bacon Breakfast Roll £1.75 Sausage Breakfast Roll £1.75 Omelette Breakfast Roll £1.75 Bacon and Omelette Breakfast Roll £1.85 Bacon and Sausage Breakfast Roll £1.85 Sausage and Omelette Breakfast Roll £1.85 Bacon Breakfast Baguette £2.50 Sausage Breakfast Baguette £2.50 Omelette Breakfast Baguette £2.50 Bacon and Omelette Breakfast Baguette £2.60 Bacon and Sausage Breakfast Baguette £2.60 Sausage and Omelette Breakfast Baguette £2.60 Bacon and Cheese Wrap £1.65 Simply Creamy Porridge £1.00 Golden Syrup Porridge £1.00 Apple & Cinnamon Porridge £1.00 Also Check The Latest Pret A Manger Menu With Prices UK Savouries & Bakes Menu Prices Sausage Roll £0.96 Vegan Sausage Roll £0.96 Steak Bake £1.50 Chicken Bake £1.44 Sausage, Bean & Cheese Melt £1.38 Vegan Sausage, Bean & Cheeze Melt £1.45 Beef & Vegetable Pasty £1.30 Margherita Pizza £0.85 Pepperoni Pizza £0.85 Also Check The Latest Bagel Nash Menu And Prices in UK Drinks Menu Prices Regular Americano £1.50 Large Americano £1.75 Regular Cappuccino £1.75 Large Cappuccino £2.00 Regular Latte £1.75 Large Latte £2.00 Regular Mocha £1.75 Large Mocha £2.00 Regular White Coffee £1.50 Large White Coffee £1.75 regular Hot Chocolate £1.65 Large Hot Chocolate £1.90 Regular Tea £1.00 Large Tea £2.00 Also Check The Latest Gourmet Burger Kitchen Menu Prices UK Sweet Treats Menu Prices Caramel Custard Doughnut £ 0.95 Pink Jamie Doughnut £ 0.95 Triple Chocolate Doughnut £0.95 Yum Yum £0.85 Cream Eclair £1.15

History of Greggs

Greggs is one of the most loved bakery-cum-cafés in the United Kingdom. Starting from regulars to travelers, Greggs is a destination that assures to make you fall in love with its delicious menu. The Greggs sausage rolls price is the main charmer besides the prices of Greggs pizza, soups, salads, and other mouth-watering eatables. The first Greggs store came up in 1939 in Gosforth, Newcastle upon Tyne, England. The founder John Gregg started it as a Tyneside bakery with the simple intention to deliver fresh eggs and yeast to the neighborhood families through a pushbike. Over the year, Greggs has acquired several other bakery brands and expanded its reach. After the death of John, Gregg was under the guidance of his son Ian. Since its inception, Gregg’s has expanded its location in several United Kingdom States. Gregg’s takes pride in serving the most delicious pizza, sausage rolls, and much more. Currently, Gregg’s is over 2000 locations across the United Kingdom. The brand has implemented several services through the years like a drive-thru, delivery services, outlets, moment stores, etc to make the bakery even more approachable to customers. Starting from Gregg’s pizza price to Gregg’s soup price, everything at Gregg’s is value for money. Also, Gregg’s drink prices are suitable for all be its students or commuters.

Review of Greggs

The Gregg’s hours of operation vary from location to location, however, at most Gregg’s locations Greggs open at 6 am and close at around 10 pm. Gregg’s breakfast prices are affordable and are available in the early hours. The Gregg’s lunch can be enjoyed from 12 pm onwards and you can dine in the bakery after 5 pm. The Gregg’s menu is inclusive of breakfast rolls, sausage rolls, wraps, pizza slices, doughnuts, baguettes, and much more. At Gregg’s, you can enjoy a fine breakfast having options like bacon roll, omelet roll, bacon and sausage roll, sausage and omelet baguette, bacon and cheese wrap, croissants, porridge, and the like. Don’t forget to try their mouth-watering savory snack items that you just can’t stop having. Starting from steak bake, sausage cheese, and bean melt, margarita pizza, to beef and vegetable pasty, Gregg’s offers you the best of food. You can order a single slice of pizza as Gregg’s pizza slice price is also reasonable looking into the amazing product they serve. At affordable Gregg’s drinks prices, the café offers you the most refreshing beverages like mocha, coffee, caramel latte, hot chocolate, peppermint tea, and many others. Gregg’s coffee price is also worth every penny. Here you can have a wonderful time be it with friends or colleagues. Over the years Gregg’s menu prices have evolved as per their customer reviews. Also Check The Latest Wagamama Menu And Prices UK

How to Order Online from Greggs Menu in Few Steps?

If you want to order online from Greggs then you can follow the steps given below where I have discussed how you can order online from Greggs using just eat. You can also check the menu prices of Greggs by following the same method below as the prices may vary from location to location. - First, head over to Just Eat and enter your pin code. - If any Greggs restaurant delivers to your location it will appear where you can select the restaurant. - After selecting the restaurant, the full list of Greggs’ menu prices will be displayed. - Now, select all the food items that you want to order online and add them to your cart. - In the next step, go to checkout and login to your account if you have one or you can also checkout as a guest. - Fill in some details and go to the payment option where you can make the payment and confirm your order.

Greggs Contact Information & Important Links

Official Website greggs.co.uk Greggs Menu Check Here Greggs Careers Check Here Greggs Gift Cards Check Here Greggs Locations Check Here Greggs Nutritional Information Check Here Greggs Order Online Order Here

Social Media Handles

Facebook Visit Now Instagram Visit Now Twitter Visit Now

Greggs Contact Info

Greggs Corporate Office Address Quorum Business Park, Newcastle upon Tyne NE12 8BU Greggs Phone Number 01912817721 Greggs Contact Page/Form Visit Now

Conclusion

For over 80 years, Gregg’s has been serving the natives of the United Kingdom and indeed has become the heartthrob of the nation. The bakery-cum-café has truly changed the taste of the country and its people. It is one of the largest bakery chains in the UK and is widely loved for its outstanding menu and prices. So what do you think about Greggs menu with prices that have been discussed in detail above? Kindly share your thoughts with me in the comment section below.

Frequently Asked Questions Related to Greggs (FAQs)

Who founded Greggs? John Gregg of the United Kingdom initially started Greggs. How much is a sausage roll from Greggs? A sausage roll from Gregg’s is priced between £0.96-£2. How much is a Greggs’s pizza? A Gregg’s pizza price starts from £0.85. How much are Greggs’s pasties? The Gregg’s pasties price varies from £0.96- £2. What is Greggs coffee price? Gregg’s coffee price is between £1.25- £3. Who owns Greggs? Greggs was founded by John Gregg. How many Greggs are there in the UK? There are more than 2,078 outlets of Greggs operating across the UK. The post Greggs Menu With Prices appeared first on Everymenuprices. Read the full article

[starrywinters]

7 Minutes!AU — Park Jihoon Fic

requested by anon!

genre: fluff

synopsis: both jihoon and you secretly loves each other, both of you are oblivious to the other’s feelings but everyone else can clearly see it, and you don’t confess until you play 7 minutes in heaven.

Ever heard of the saying, “A guy and a girl can be best friends and stay as best friends”? Yeah, that’s a lie. One will bound to fall for the other, if not maybe both will fall for each other. Sometimes at the right time, sometimes at the wrong.

“Hey Y/N! Mommy said we kiss the one we love when we’re older. So. when we’re older, I’m definitely going to give you many many kisses!” Stretches his arms as far as he can to emphasize his point.

That was said by a five-year-old Park Jihoon, your childhood friend since diapers. The one who is always there to mend your pain away and sooth your anger.

–

“LEE DAEHWI. YOU LIL-” You began, stomping your feet and splashing droplets of water everywhere, sentence cutting off as Jihoon pulls you into a hug. You wetting his entire self in the process. It was just like any other day where Lee Daehwi, your best friend, would pull a prank on you. One time it was tampering with your alarm clock, another time with a caramel ONION. Yes, onion, instead of an apple he used an onion.

This time, a bucket of water and a classroom door was involved. You can already guess what happened. You opened the door to your first period class and the whole bucket of water fell. On you. Not on Jihoon, who was standing beside you the whole time. No, it fell on you.

Already a Senior in high school, Daehwi has still not grown out of his childish side. Sinking yourself more fully into Jihoon’s warm embrace, you slowly calm down. The thought of getting revenge on Daehwi at the back of your mind. Standing at the doorway, your face nuzzled into the crook of his neck, someone can be heard clearing their throat behind you. Bae Jinyoung, Daehwi’s accomplice in most of his pranks and Daehwi’s #1 best friend.

Grinning, waggling his eyebrows, and winking at you two, “Hey lovebirds, stop blocking the doorway and keep your PDA indoors please.”

Never separating from your hug, “Shut up Jinyoung, you and Daehwi got her mad again. When will you two stop?” He pats your head slowly, lulling you into a sleep. But at the same time, it isn’t helping your situation as your heart begins to pound against your chest harder and faster. Yes, you have a mAJOr crush on Park Jihoon, your childhood best friend. What a surprise.

“Dunno, maybe never?” Seeing that you aren’t paying attention to them anymore he mutters to Jihoon, “We’re doing this for your sake bro, let us live a little. These are the only chances where you are bold enough to hug Y/N. When will you confess to her?”

Unfortunately for Jihoon, that was when you came back to the real world, finally separating from Jihoon’s hug. “Confess what? And to who?”

“N-nothing! Jinyoung is just saying nonsensical things like he usually does, le-let’s go to class, the bell’s about to ring.”

–

The bell rang as lunch period began

Literally stomping to your table, Jihoon right behind you, you see Daehwi sitting with Jinyoung, chatting very animatedly. ’Hah, not anymore you little devil.’ Wringing the collar of his shirt in your hands, “LEE DAEHWI. HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU TO STOP WITH THE DAMN PRANKS. IT’S NOT FUNNY ANYMORE.”

And here comes Jihoon, your personal teddy bear. Bringing you into another hug, you hiding your face in the crook of his neck again, slowly calming down your anger and breathing. During that whole process of you trying trying to calm down, your stomach growls. Loudly. To hide from further embarrassment, you dig your face further into Jihoon’s neck and curl yourself up, practically sitting on his lap.

Across from you sits Jinhwi, witnessing everything, “Eewww, guys, please. I feel like throwing up.” Dramatically, ”Jinyoung, take me to the restroom.”

“You can go yourself, you have legs.” And he indulges himself with his slice of pizza, ignoring the nonstop blabbering to the right of him. Offended, he turns to you and Jihoon, but ends up staying mum since you were still sitting on Jihoon’s lap as he’s hugging you. Daehwi knew you were still mad, so he proposes a compromise.

“Ok so Y/N, i’m sorry I pulled another prank on you, this will be the last time. I promise. So to make it up to you– HEY! ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?!??1”

Repositioning yourself so you’re facing him, head against Jihoon’s chest, you glare at him. If glares could kill, Daehwi would’ve been long gone already. “What?”

“As I was saying, to make up for my childish actions, i’m inviting you to the party I got invited to last period. It’s this Saturday at Kang Daniel’s place. You know, the popular jock?” As expected of the ever friendly chatterbox Lee Daehwi.

Closing your eyes, you feel Jihoon’s grip tighten around you (be it unconsciously or not, you really liked it) and you focus on the vibrations as he talks, “I don’t know Daehwi, Y/N doesn’t do parties. You know that.”

“Ok but, just give this one a chance. You can leave early if you don’t like it, but at least stay there for 5 minutes? C’mon! It’s senior year, please?”

–

’Curse Daehwi and his cuteness. Evil otter lookalike.’ Were the thoughts that ran through your head as you stood outside your door, pouting, waiting for Jihoon to arrive. Wherever you go, Jihoon goes. You dragged him with you to the party since you didn’t want to be alone, plus you needed a savior if ever Daehwi or Jinyoung comes up with something fishy at the party. Which they will do, you can feel it.

“I don’t get it, why do I have to be here,” childishly stomping your feet, you complain to Jihoon.

Jihoon chuckling, “Because you fell for Daehwi’s cute acts. Like always.” Shaking his head in amusement.

“lisTEN, you do too ok?? Don’t target only mE.”

–

Knocking on the front door of captain of the dance team, Kang Daniel, you were let in and greeted by him. You can tell he’s a teeny bit tipsy as he leaned in to give you a hug, but you don’t even know him?? Jealous, Jihoon drags you away and closer to him. In the back, he can see Daehwi giggling to Jinyoung. Narrowing his eyes at them. ’Now, what is their motive?’

Yes, this isn’t their first time trying to set him up with you. They’ve been trying ever since they’ve met the both of you, almost giving up as they felt discouraged since they were getting nowhere. But once they found the both of you are actually really in love with each other, their motivation skyrocketed.

Throughout the night, Daniel and a few other guys consecutively tries to approach you, to get you to have a few drinks with them. Most of the time, Jihoon’s the one rejecting the offers, rarely do you ever get a chance to say (not like you’ll ever accept anyway).

Other than that, you actually had fun. Jihoon didn’t, he spent majority of the time glaring guys off.

A few minutes later, Daehwi bounces towards your direction, yelling out, “HEY Y/N, JIHOON! LET’S GO PLAY A GAME WITH THE OTHERS, JINYOUNG’S ALREADY THERE SAVING US A SPOT.” Pulling on your right arm and Jihoon’s left, “C’MON LET’S GO!”

–

And that’s how you found yourself sitting on the floor in a bedroom with many other people, staring at the spinning bottle on the floor. You still don’t understand the point of this game, ’what’s the name of it again? 7 minus oven? What? What kind of-.’

The first round’s pair was chosen, Ong Seongwoo and Kang Daniel (ONGNIEL(((;). They came out 7 minutes later, hair and clothes disheveled. What the heck is this game? Lost, you look to your right, where Jihoon sat. Understanding your confused gaze, he shrugs. ’I don’t know either Y/N.’

–

Your heart was beating rapidly, your breath hitching. You felt dizzy, nervous, your palms are sweaty. You’re pretty sure if the lights were on, the bright pink that dusted your cheeks can be easily seen. How you ended up here? You were chosen by the bottle for the third round, the other person you’re not sure who.

“H-hey, I’m Y/N. What’s your name?” Hoping to start a conversation and not do what the previous pairs did, you ask for the identity of the other person.

You feel movement, shifting closer and closer to you. He pulls you into a hug, at first you panic. Thrashing in his hold, trying to get out, but once you recognized the warmth the body radiated and the feel of the body you stop. What didn’t stop, however, was your beating heart. And that is where you are now.

You feel another set of heart beats, coming from the person who is currently holding you. “Jihoon? Why’re you holding onto me?”

“Because I don’t know when the next chance I’ll get to bravely hold you in my arms is. I’m a coward, I’m not able to hug you in broad daylight or for no reason. I want to do this now to get everything over with. Y/N, you’re literally the sweetest girl I’ve ever met. You were there for me when we were young, you never left me. Even when I was going through that phase where I stayed away from you for a few weeks because you had cooties -feeling offended, “NO I DID NOT, YOU HAD COOTIES NOT ME”- You dealt with the pain in the butt I am, and you dealt with my terrible fashion sense. Thank you for being my best friend, but I don’t think I can stay a ‘best friend’ anymore. I’ve fallen for you, hard. I’m in love with you, since 6th grade actually, and I want to take this to the next level, if you’ll let me. So, Y/N, will you agree to date this pink-colored loving boy and do me the honor of becoming my girlfriend?”

Taking a few minutes to gather your thoughts and keep your heart from leaping out in joy, he nervously smiles awaiting your response.

“I-i yes! YES! I will, I’ve been in love with you since 6th grade too, when you first came to school dressed in pink. Not giving a care to what others thought about you and how you kept moving on, always trying to make me happy by hugging me to calm me down. So, yes, I will date you and I will be your boyfriend.”

Leaning further into the hug you look up at him, leaning up closer you initiate the first move. Slowly moving forward, you peck him slightly on the lips–and that is when the door opens.

Bae Jinyoung is stood there, grinning like he won the lottery, “Oho, what’s this? Are you two finally together?” Speeding off towards Daehwi, he screams, “DAEHWI! DAEHWI! HWIIIIIII, I WON THE BET, PAY UP BRO!”

Upset, you chase after him (Jihoon once again on your tail) “YAH! BAE JINYOUNG, LEE DAEHWI, YOU BETTED ON US?!?!???”

–

Sitting on Jihoon’s laps, the amount of PDA done intensifies. This time it’s more romantically than platonically. Small and short kisses were being stolen from time to time, staring into each other’s eyes were happening more often, and playing with each other’s fingers became a small competitive game between the both of you.

“GUYs, where is the gratefulness?? We don’t deserve this diSRESPECT especially since we helped get you two together.”

“YES JINYOUNG IS RIGHT, ALSO STOP FLIRTING IN FRONT OF US. MY EYES ARE BURNING.”

“Shut up Daehwi, you’re just jealous Jinyoung hasn’t asked you out yet.” (JINHWI(((((;)

“i-”

unedited!

y’all i typed this at 4AM and i kind of squealed, giggled, and smiled (very widely) as i typed this story…uhM like my heart??? was?? melting???? and i need to stOP???

anyway! i hope you like it! ♡

[jihoneytrash]

PINK SAUSAGE UNIT

[park-woojinah-blog]

God bless Pink Sausage Unit follows me where ever I go

[daehwisdays]

day 9 inktober is 2park bc i was feeling soft for their love/hate bromance

[minsugagal]

Woojin “jeojjang-ing” Jihoon into his heart. 

ever-charismatic park woojin (trans)

[lord-explosion-baku]

Trident Tale

Merman!Shinsou x reader, Kirishima x Reader

Warnings: adult themes (Minors DNI)

A/N: read the prologue on AO3

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

(Original image by @maewoahoah)

Synopsis: Moving to an island where everyone is big on the surf scene and other oceanic happenings might not have been the brightest idea for someone so afraid of anything that has to do with water, but you make do by spending your days looking after the Bed & Breakfast, trying not to burn the house down when you fry a few eggs, and obsessively scrolling through Eijirou Kirishima’s social media page. He’ll never notice you, and you think you’re fine with that, until a mysterious force washes into Ms. Shuzenji’s pool after a particularly nasty storm.

Hitoshi Shinsou is a pain in the ass from the get-go, but you put up with him, fins and all, when he promises he can help unite you with your soulmate. The catch? The fish is hellbent on taking back what was stolen from him, and he won’t lift a gracious finger until he gets what he came for.

You’re helpless to lend him a hand, so long as you stay dry. Unless, of course, he has other plans.

You know how the saying goes: you rub his fins, he’ll rub yours.

Storms have never really been your cup of tea. Though you keep yourself locked inside a good percent of the time, there’s nothing quite as suffocating as the compress of clouds overhead. It’s not like you always have to see them to be uncomfortable, but you definitely feel them pressing down, closing in, and caging you, even when you’ve got yourself tucked under a blanket on Ms. Shuzenji’s couch.

It’s been a little over a year since you first moved to the island. All you needed was a new beginning, and you got that, but you got that, and the tropical weather that you’re still getting used to. It’s currently typhoon season, and holy seaweed-on-your-doorstep, is it storming.

There’s little you can do to distract yourself while staying and working at Shuzenji’s bed and breakfast. There are currently no guests, aside from you, so all the rooms are made, and the old lady is on another one of her long vacations, so you’re basically being paid to lounge. You’re grateful for that, at least. But the only thing that’s keeping you physically separated from the terrifying weather is a thick glass pane that water sloshes on every time a wave laps over the backyard walls.

The things that separate you mentally are the old-timey recordings of Shuzenji singing alongside an ensemble cast, and the little device in your hand. If you didn’t have your boss’s haunting melodies echoing throughout the house, and some big, beefy, tatted eye-candy to gawk at during the storm, you’d surely go insane.

Eijirou Kirishima, one of the island’s best surfers, is out on his board, live-streaming his current fight against the waves. His whoops and hollers can be heard over the crashing tides, getting even you excited for what’s about to come. That’s the thing about Kirishima; he’s wild, you’re not, and it’s hot as hell. Oftentimes, you catch yourself daydreaming about joining him out in the surf—he guides you through the waves, maybe yoou impress him a bit with your sudden affinity for wave-riding, and the two of you wash up on shore where you’ll both share your first kiss. It would be feasible if you could swim. It would be feasible if you bothered to learn how to swim, but for now, you’re content with your imagination. At least he can make you hate the terrible weather a little less.

The conspiratorial smirk he shows the camera is borderline swoon-worthy when the swell begins to pull him further out. It’s impossible not to bite your lip every time you catch a glimpse of his arms forcing themselves through the sea. He makes this look easy—like the storm is child’s play, and as the winds blow Shuzenji’s trash bin into the sliding glass door, you welcome the delicious distraction.

As Kirishima stands up on his signature trident board and rides one of the biggest waves he’s seen all day, you’re once again struck with how much of a coward you are. He can fight the elements, while you can hardly bring yourself the courage to talk to him. Mind you, he’s constantly surrounded by a close group of friends—a close group of friends you find intimidating—and when he’s not with them, he’s out in the water. Where there’s water involved, you’re spoken for. Unless, of course, you’d like for the first time you guys actually speak, to be when he’s giving you CPR.

Not the most ideal “meet cute”, but if it works, it works.

A loud crash snaps you out of your admittedly salty daydream. Mango, Shuzenji’s orange tabby, yowls at the blanket of water cascading down the windows, and your stomach sinks. There’s only so many minutes you can pretend that the storm Kirishima is facing isn’t the one that’s destroying Shuzenji’s yard.

With a sigh, you roll off the velvet couch, and grimace when crumbs that were nesting in your shirt fall to the carpet: a mess to clean up later. Without any guests to mind, you don’t have to worry too much over keeping the place spick-and-span, so long as things are nice and tighty by the time the old lady gets back, which will be awhile.

You have an easy enough job—at least, when there aren’t bunches of thick seaweeds crashing over the yard’s wall, flooding the pool.

“Shit.”

Water sprays in every direction. The already trash-infested pool overflows as more kelp rolls in with the maniacal waves, and angry, white foam bangs on the back door. It's a disaster outside, and you’re not sure what to do about it.

Fingers wrapped around the back door handle, you struggle to think of a way to prevent a bigger mess, but even if you could manage to clean anything, nothing is stopping the tempest from wreaking anymore havoc. Best case scenario, you stop a plastic soda-chain from washing out to see and becoming a deadly necklace for an unlucky seagull. Worst case scenario, you slip, crack your head open on the pavement, and drown before you can ever utter the words “mahalo” to Kirishima.

Needless to say, you’ll take your life over a gull’s any day.

Another sigh.

A greater wave collides against the wall, bringing more of the Great Unknown into the pool. This is going to be a fun job to clean. Good thing you’ve got Shuzenji’s service boy, Denki Kaminari, on speed dial. You think if you sound particularly distressed in the morning, he’ll show up to help you out with just about anything in the matter of minutes. God bless desperate fuckboys.

So, for now, you cuddle back up on the couch, watch Kirishima shake saltwater out of his thick, red hair, and pretend that his storm is not the same thing as your storm.

It’s early morning when you finally rise out of bed. You hadn’t gotten a whole lot of rest—something to do with the wailing winds shaking your bedroom window nonstop, but after you finally drifted into dreams about snakes and dragons, you woke to clear skies, and light seagull calls.

From the second story, you can see early birds have already gotten the jump on cleaning up the beach. The sun is shining, the ocean blue and vast. The only trace there was ever a storm is already being taken care of. There are lifeguards riding around on ATVs and younger civilians with trash bags and grapplers picking up seaweed and absconded debris. The respect everyone has for the island is something to be admired, and you half-consider going out there yourself, after you’ve dealt with your yard, which is sure to be a wreck.

There’s no interest in picking out a cute outfit for the morning you’re going to have, even if Denki might see you, so you throw on a already-worn-this-week crop top, some pink shirts, and you’re good to go.

The first thing you do after Mango’s fed is check your socials. Kirishima posted a picture of his breakfast: a hefty plate with three eggs, sausage links, bacon, cut avocado, and what seems to be low-carb toast. The post reads, gotta eat ur gainz 2 gain ur gainz, and it’s so ridiculous that you’re infatuated with this reckless himbo. You wonder if you’d ever be able to hold an intellectual conversation with him, if you could ever manage to speak to him in the first place, but conversation wouldn’t matter if his mouth was between your thighs.

Following his example, you crack two eggs over a frying pan, sigh at the mostly empty fridge, then agonize over the state of Shuzenji’s yard. It’s worse than you thought it’d be. The pool is a sickly green color, and from where you’re standing inside, its murky depths seem to be almost opaque from the seaweed and garbage stewing together. Kelp litters the beige pavement, and there’s trash hiding in the shrubs. There’s a chocolate donut floaty bobbing around in there, too, and Shuzenji doesn’t own any floaties.

What a drag.

Before you get too far in your head about everything you’ll need to do to clean up, you quickly dial Denki’s number. He picks up after a ring and a half.

“I know what you’re about to ask,” says the boy on the line, and from his cocky tone, you can assume it’s not going to be about the cleanup. “I am absolutely free tonight. If you wanted to grab drinks at the Salty Barrel, maybe go on a romantic rendezvous out on the beach, watch the sunset on or in a couple blankets, I wouldn’t complain.”

“I’m not calling to ask you on a date, Kaminari,” you say as you step outside. The pavement is cold underneath your bare feet, and you have to tip-toe around to be sure not to let any kelp touch your skin. Yuck.

“But you’re not, not calling about a date, either,” he counters. By the volume of his voice, you can tell that he’s in his van, talking to you over the speaker. Good. So he’s already out and about.

“I need you to tell me how to drain Shuzenji’s pool.” Call you cold, but you’re used to Denki’s flirty nature by now, and you’ve learned that the best way to deal with it, is to not acknowledge it. Of course, you can’t be too callous when it comes to him, especially when you actually need his help. You eye the dangerously complex-looking valves off to the side of the house, and grimace. “There’s too many twisty thingies! I’m not sure what to do!”

“Now, hold your horses, little lady! Don’t go twisting any thingies just yet. Draining a pool is a process.” There’s a long pause, the loud growl of an engine, then silence. He’d pulled over to talk to you. “How’s your TDL? And what kinda PVC pipes you got?”

“The huh and what?” You don’t need to pretend to be in distress—you have no idea what he’s talking about.

“Listen, don’t touch anything. You’re calling because the pool’s a mess right now, right? You don’t need to drain it; at least, not yet. I can swing by in an hour or so to clean it, but I’ve gotta make some stops first. You’re not the only single woman who wants to watch me do my thang, especially not after yesterday.”

“It’s so bad, Kaminari.” The water in the pool sloshes around, like there’s actually something in it causing the water to ungulate and burble. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Don’t worry your pretty, little head over it. You've got me, okay? It’s my job to protect and serve.”

“You’re not a cop.”

“Nope, I’m better than a cop. I’m a pool guy.”

He goes on to ask you to check out what kind of drain the pool has, if you can find the drain, then loses you when he starts talking numbers and gallons. While still on the phone, you send a few texts to Shuzenji, explaining the predicament, then Denki mentions rates. You’re getting the cutie pie discount, doubled because he counts Shuzenji as a “cutie pie” too—something you mention to her because she’ll get a kick out of it—then he drops all business to ask about food.

“I’m cooking my breakfast,” you say with a wary glance back at the house.

“But is your breakfast fries and a shake from Tiki Burger?”

You bite your lip as your stomach growls its empty sorrow. “No.”

“Would you like it to be?” His knowing grin is heard through the line.

“…I’m not gonna go out with you.”

He chuckles and you’re grateful that he can’t see your answering smile. “We’ll see how you feel after you see me work my magic. And hey, if you’d like me to wear a Speedo while I work—“

“You’ll be here in an hour?” You cut him off, because Denki in a Speedo is the last thing you need on your mind. The thought of Kirishima in a Speedo, however, gets you a little hot, which is saying a lot, since you’re a part of the Speedos and Dolphin-shorts Are Abominations To Swimwear belief system.

“Maybe sooner. I think my next client just needs me to check out their chemical levels. Inside pool and all. Everyone else knew to put a tarp out.”

The tarp you had blew away, but you don’t bother explaining that to Denki. Let him believe you’re the dim-witted “little lady” he wants you to be. If it means Shuzenji gets a discount, not that she can’t afford any bill Denki’s company throws at her, then let him believe you can’t open a pickle jar without a man’s help for all you care.  

“See you then,” you say, and end the call. There will be time to work on your charm once Denki gets here. Until then, you figure you could do some investigating so you’re not completely helpless.

Leaving your phone on the pavement so you don’t accidentally drop it in the water, you make your way around the pool to where you think you remember the drain being. You can’t say you’ll know what kind of drain it is, but if you remember correctly, it’s circular, and like, kinda meshy? That description simply won’t do.

Dropping down to your knees, you peer down into the pool, squinting, as if that can help you see through all the muck. There’s definitely a lot of kelp and algae, sand drifting through the water, someone’s wayward brazier, and oh. A school of fish—little babies circling about. It’s wild, but you suppose it could be possible if all the chlorine washed out and there was enough salt water to sustain marine life.

The fish move together, bopping into each other, mouths gaping open to eat whatever they find in their temporary home. You don’t know enough about marine life to know what kind of fish they are. Silvery little things. Maybe Denki has something that can help transport them from the pool to the ocean. It’s not far—Shuzenji’s house is on the beach. It would be a shame if all the little fish had to die. You don’t particularly care about touching or feeding fish, but a life is a life, and if they can be saved, you’d at least like to try.

But all your thoughts of saving fish life stop when you catch something moving in the water. It’s not the fish—they’re not that big, but it’s definitely fishlike. Fish plus. It moves like a shadow, serpentine and fluid. You catch a glimpse of scales, so it’s definitely not a dolphin—even then, it’s bigger than a dolphin, and more graceful than a shark. You begin thinking of leviathan, and other mythical creatures, as ridiculous as that is, when you see a long flowing fluke.

Okay. This thing is not just big. It’s gargantuan, and to see this much of the creature without seeing its head makes your skin crawl. You imagine falling in and being swallowed whole, suffocating in the dark, drowning in a monster’s belly.

The thought spooks you static, just in time to meet a pair of eyes in the water. This is your overactive imagination—you’re scaring yourself insane, but you don’t look away, and those eyes, almost human and curious, don’t disappear.

You’ve consumed enough media to know how these impossible interactions go. The creature is inquisitive, but keeps its distance. It often has to be coaxed out of hiding, and even then, the thing is skittish and untrusting. You’re certainly not one to go “pspsps, hey little guy, I’m not gonna hurt you,” but even if you were, you don’t get the chance, because this thing you’re looking at isn’t the least bit skittish, and in one second, you’re making eyes at at it, and in the next, the thing is exploding out of the water.

A large, broad chest towers over you. The thing pushes itself up with arms, human arms, but it’s anything but human. Sure, it has hair, although an odd purple color, framing its angular face and jaw, which are both human enough. Also framing its face are a pair of long, pointed fins sticking out from where human ears should be. Water dribbles down its chest, down to its navel—its navel. Your brain screams mammal, but underneath its navel are scales, rippling down to where its legs should be. Not human. Not fish.

Fish plus.

Man.

Fish plus man.

Fish-man.

Its eyes are almost the same color as its hair, only a shade lighter, and much sharper, narrowed in on you. It’s glaring. You realize this at the same time you realize that you're staring at it with your mouth agape. This would be so rude in any other setting. It’s also rude to pop out of a pool that isn’t yours without any other warning, but you’re not about to chastise the thing. You’re far too scared.

Then the thing reaches out to you, sprinkling water on your thighs and your shirt. Its hands look like a man’s hand, but its long fingers are connected by thin, indigo webbing that matches its tail. Its tail. You lose focus trying to find the word for this creature that’s barely on the tip of your tongue, when you realize the palm of its hand, its fishy, webby hand, is hovering over your cheek, the other carefully placed next to your knee to keep it upright.

You open your mouth to speak, but only a hiss comes out. The creature, wary, brings its hand back, but only slightly. Not enough to put you at ease, but enough to allow you to gain your composure, and scream.

“H-help!!!” You screech. “Help! Somebody! Help me!”

It claps its hand over your mouth, knocking you back. Water drips down on your shirt as it leans in, mouth curling up with distaste. Then, it does something impossible.

It speaks.

“So loud,” it growls in a low, masculine timbre.

It speaks, you think, it speaks and it has no manners!

You try to yell back, probably something with little thought, but you have a mouth full of fish-man hand, and the more you warble in its palm, the more apathetic it appears.

“Be quiet and still,” it commands, as if obeying it is supposed to be the most natural thing—something it expects from you. It catches you so off-guard that you actually listen, only trembling a little bit as those indigo eyes scan over your form. It’s uncomfortable having an unknown but cognizant creature observe you so closely. You shiver when its gaze roams over your belly, down your legs. You want to curl your legs up, move away, but you’re afraid if you even twitch more than it’s comfortable with, it’ll grab you and drag you into the pool. Your nightmare.

Instead, it does something slightly less worse. It moves its hand from your mouth to your cheek. The palm of its hand warms your skin in an unnatural way, like you’ve been laying in the sun for half an hour and it’s only your cheek that heats up. The creature's eyes widen as light begins to emanate, either from you, or from it, you’re not sure, but definitely from where it touches you. Tingles run from your neck down to your spine, and you wish you’d put a bra on before going outside, because this thing’s touch is making your body react in a way that it shouldn’t.

“So easy,” it purrs appraisingly, somewhat less insolent, but you’re still taken aback, ears hot with embarrassment.

Un-fucking-likely.

“Easy?!” You squawk out. “What do you mean by easy?”

It doesn’t answer you, and instead, moves its fingers from your cheek, down your jaw, to your chin. It begins leaning closer, heavy lids closing. You notice its lips for the first time: a defined line and a pretty bow. If you were in a less dire situation, you’d be able to admit that they’re very nice lips, but they’re getting closer to you, closer still, and you realize with a jolt what it’s trying to do.

Your foot meets its chest in a heartbeat.

“Nope!” You belt out, extending your leg so there’s more distance between you and the impolite beast. “Not today, fish-breath!”

Unperturbed, it lifts a lazy brow. Then, to your absolute horror, it presses both of its hands into your bare leg, and again you’re lit up, warm, and tingly, only far worse than before. Stomach tightening, you make a choked noise, trying to hold in the sigh that claws at your throat.

“Fish-breath.” It repeats your insult like it’s a balled-up piece of paper to be thrown in the trash. “I’ve been told that my aroma is quite appealing.”

“By whom? Other fish-breaths?!” You wriggle your leg out of his embrace, or whatever you could call that invasion, only to have it slip down so your foot rests in the fish-man’s hands, bright as the stars in the sky. “Eww ew! Don’t touch me! Get away!”

The creature scoffs, but let’s you go, and you both watch as the light disappears from the arch of your foot where he’d been touching. Fish-man slinks back into the murky water, hiding under a blanket of algae.

You have enough time to gather your composure, wipe the water droplets off your face, and rub your eyes. For a moment, you try to convince yourself that this has all been a sleep-deprived hallucination, but you’ve never really been one to delude yourself, unless your Kirishima fantasies were involved, and you know that you’ll have to try another tactic to accept the reality of your situation. Perhaps you can try to be civil with this creature, ask it if it’s…hurt, or if it needs a late night escort to get it back to the sea. But then, the thing resurfaces on the opposite end of the pool. It faces you, and leans back against the wall, arms spread out against the pavement, basking.

“You know,” he says, “your decorum is severely lacking. Don’t humans have classes that teach them proper etiquette—how to be more polite towards their guests and such?”

What’s lacking is your patience for marine life.

Standing up, you take in the thing, which you’re now pretty sure is in fact a man of sorts, in its entirety. His tail is long, longer than human legs, extending past the halfway mark of the pool, if your measurement counts his fluke. There’s a golden cuff on his right arm that spirals around, accentuating his large biceps. You stubbornly admit that it’s attractive—he’s attractive, at least, he would be for people who were into fish and not surfers. You brush whatever you’re feeling in the pit of your stomach off by telling yourself that you’re simply awestruck, and move on.

“Where I’m from-“ you begin, straightening your sodden crop top- “we offer our guests various beverages and snacks, depending on the time of day.”

Annoyingly, he looks interested.

“Since it’s the morning, I’d offer a guest tea, or coffee, and if I’m looking to impress, I’d maybe cook them a hot meal.”

The creature offers you a sardonic smile. “I happen to be famished.”

“However, with home-invaders, we’re more likely to pull a gun on them before heating up the earl grey.”

He loses the smile, and you’re glad that he might have an inkling of what a gun is. You’ve never owned one, and they don’t allow firearms on the island, but the threat stands. But if he was intimidated, even for a moment, he doesn’t show it anymore, and proves just that by turning his back on you, and resting his head in his arms. He has a dorsal fin with what looks to be a deep, x-shaped scar near his tailbone. You try not to wonder what that could’ve been from.

“Then how do you propose I go from a home-invader, to a house guest?” Asks the creature with little interest.

Cautiously walking around the pool with your arms crossed, you begin to list things off for the far-too-comfortable fish-man.

“You can start by telling me who you are, what you are, why you’re here, what you want, and why you think you can lay your webbed hands on me.”

“Oh, is that all?” He hums noncommittally. Content. Aggravating. “Why don’t you start then? Who are you, and why are you here?”

The back of your neck grows hot and uncomfortable. “How entitled do you have to be to—!” You start, but you’re swiftly cut off by the shrieking of the fire alarm. Smoke plumes from outside the house’s windows, and you curse under your breath before darting towards the door. You’d completely forgotten about your eggs.

In your haste to move the pan off the stove, you burn your fingers and drop the pan to the kitchen floor, two blackened egg crisps flaking off and diving in different directions. Mango yowls at the commotion and investigates one of the fallen egg crisps. Before you can tell him to buzz off, he loses interest in your mess, not bothering to give it a taste. You don’t blame him, but the eggs didn’t appear to be cat-bad. Ah, you can’t kid yourself. They are cat-bad. They’re completely inedible. Now you’re going to have to head to the market, while worrying about a man trapped in Shuzenji’s pool.

Your stomach roars at you.

After cleaning the mess as best as you could while desperately and ruefully wanting to return to your guest—no, not guest—invader, you get the alarm, half-heartedly fan the smoke out of the house, and return. Angry. This guy better start talking soon, or things are going to get ugly.

To your utter displeasure, he looks all the more amused at your newer, messier state.

“Was that supposed to be the hot meal,” he asks, cocky. “Because if so, I’ll pass.”

Instead of biting his head off like you’d like to, you present him with the still-dirty frying pan, pointing it at his head like you intend to use it.

“Start talking, fish-for-brains.”

The beast snickers, raising his hands in the air in mock-surrender. “Easy there, tiger shark. You know how to use that thing?”

You refuse to humor him. Instead, you keep your scowl tight, your arms steady. If he’s not threatened, he’ll lose interest in this game, then he’ll have to talk.

Lo and behold, you’re right. The fish-man rolls his eyes, and looks at you, again, with apathy.

“My name is Hitoshi Shinsou,” he says, lackadaisical, like he’s already bored of himself. “I’m one of Ryūjin. What humans have learned to call merpeople are actually descendants of the sea gods who lived centuries ago. I’m here, simply because the storm washed me here. What I want is to retrieve what’s mine. I thought I could lay my webbed hands on you—well-“ the corner of his mouth tilts up-“darlin’, it was because your body reacted to me.”

Mouth forming the beginning of a question that never comes, you stare in disbelief at this myth. Then the last thing he said dawns at you.

“I did not react to you!” You rebuke, steady hands now shaking.

“Oh no?” He says, but it’s not a question. It’s a challenge.

Hitoshi grabs the flat end of the frying pan and yanks it, and you, closer to him, closer to the water. You cringe and whine when a wet, webby hand closes around your wrist. Inadvertently, you drop the pan, but he pays it no mind as it sinks past his tail. Your skin begins to glow underneath his palms, and the tingles come back, shooting up your arm, causing tiny goosebumps to appear.

“Would you look at that,” Hitoshi croons, slow and almost sensuously. His indigo eyes narrow on your index finger where you’d burned yourself. To add to this nightmare, he closes his lips around it, and begins to suck. Your stomach flips, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re disgusted, or scared, or…enjoying the feeling of his warm mouth, his tongue, touching your skin.

“Stop.” It’s a whisper. It means nothing. You think you want it to mean something, but your thoughts are buzzing into a blur. Knees growing weak, you descend, leaning closer to him, not caring about the water or the seaweed or the fish, and instead, entirely focused on his mouth. It’s glowing, his mouth. Faintly. Like a single candle lit in an otherwise empty room.

When he eases off of you, he runs his thumb over your now-healed finger, and let’s your arm fall limply at your side.

“All better,” he whispers back at you.

There are prickles all over your skin once you regain an ounce of dignity.

“What the hell was that?” You ask, breathless for no other reason than shock.

“The glowing?” He asks. “The healing?”

“Both.”

“Your reaction to me.” He’s cocky again. This is something sick. Mythical creature or not, this has got to be a game he plays, washing into people’s pools, causing problems, sucking on lonely girls’ fingers. He probably gets his kicks this way, and uses whatever other kind of magic he has to erase whoever he’s tormenting’s memories, if he doesn’t end up eating them when he’s done. Bogus.

You won’t let him get to you.

“Alright, Hitoshi Shinsou, how would you like me to get you back into the ocean? You healed my finger-“ although it’s essentially his fault you were burned to begin with, if you take into account the sequence of events-“so helping you out is the least that I can do.”

“I could use your help,” he muses lightly, turning his body back around to his chest and abdomen are turned towards  the sun. You tell yourself not to stare like you know he probably wants you to. Though his eyes are closed, he peeps at you, sneaking a glance. “I don’t want to go back into the ocean, though. Not until I get what’s mine.”

With the might of a girl who just wants to go back inside and scroll through her phone, you swallow your bite, and ask, “what would that be?”

“Oh, this and that-“ he waves his hand around dismissively-“other things.”

With the might of a girl who just wants to go back inside and find another frying pan, you say, “alright, listen. Someone is on their way to the house to clean the pool. I don’t know what one of Ryūjin means, but I’m guessing people like you don’t always want to be discovered by people like us. So you either tell me what it is you need, or see how my pool guy reacts to a mermaid lounging around in my backyard! I wouldn’t put it against him to call the local news station. Get this place flooding with cameras. Does that sound like a pretty picture to you?”

Absolutely none of your threats penetrate Hitoshi’s cool nature. In fact, he laughs.

“When he gets here,” the merman drawls, knowing he’s got you hanging on every word, “invite him to swim.”

[calorumcookbook]

We're so excited to reveal our official cover for the Calorum Cookbook by Sam @kindlespark​! Stay tuned for our store opening in less than a week.

[ID: A pink book cover. In the center is the Calorum Cookbook logo, the logo is a beige crown made out of food, and a blue knife and fork crossed behind it. It is title The Calorum Cookbook: Recipes to Unite the Concord. Around the logo are different foods spread out. In the upper left corner: cake, a whipped pie, a donut, candy canes and other hard candies, chocolate, rock candies, licorice, gummy bears, a chocolate rabbit, macarons, and a bowl of yogurt with fruit toppings. In the upper right corner: cherries, lemon slices, an orange slice, whole oranges, blueberries, grapes, a watermelon slice, strawberries, a whole pineapple, pears, an apple, and an avocado cut in half. In the middle right side: carrots, a bell pepper, green beans, an onion, an eggplant, a bowl of salad, peas in their pod, herbs, and broccoli. In the bottom middle: a cut of meat, fried chicken, a T-Bone steak, sausage links, a fish, and a grilled piece of meat. In the lower left corner: a slice of Swiss cheese, a cup of milk, cheese cubes, a bowl of cream, a wheel of cheese, and triangular cuts of cheese. In the middle left side: a pot of rice, a croissant, bagels, crackers, a bowl of pasta, sourdough bread rolls, a baguette, and some cereal. END ID.]