#that was the first and last time i have ever tried frying in oil.. i have an air fryer now

[trashabilly]

tbt to the time i burned the shit out of my entire hand deep frying tempura scraps to make okonomiyaki for the first time

my entire hand and wrist was covered in blisters & then the next day my cat gouged some really deep scratches into my neck/collarbone so i had bandages there as well. so that was how i looked for my first day at my current job

(plus side tho, the okonomiyaki was absolute fire 🔥)

[bluecollarmcandtf]

The Family Business

The portrait of the Malik family still hangs over the fireplace. Even though they don't live in this mansion anymore, I like to look at it.

Their name used to have influence. The wealth Mr. Malik (center) had amassed in his lifetime was only eclipsed by his influence. His firstborn son, Omar (left) eagerly followed in his father's steps, greedily awaiting his chance to replace the old man. The youngest son, Amir (right) occasionally went to board meetings when he wasnt travelling the world, going from one lavish party to the next.

Despite being on top of the world, each of the three men fell far from their pedestals.

They shouldn't have tried to swindle my restaurant. My place might've been going down the toilet, but it was priceless to me. The Maliks tried raising the pricetag, but they quickly resorted to thinly veiled threats.

I couldn't take it anymore. I was tired of their smug faces and their pompous lifestyles. They didn't deserve that existence, and I was more than capable of taking it from them.

"You're gonna be my new fry cook, son," I explain to Amir, as he nervously shifts in his new uniform.

"Can I just wear something more dignified?"

"Heck, no!" I clap the youngest Malik on the head, "You are representing my business here, so you wear what I tell you to."

Amir's lip quivers, and he knows he's helpless to disobey. My mind controlling abilities have him and his family bending to my will. Their own wills have become irrelevant. It's been this way ever since I paid a visit to their mansion, walking away with the three men marching obediently behind me.

"Whatever," Amir relents disdainfully, grimacing at the humidity and oil in the air.

"I know it's not the fancy tailored suits you are used to, son, but there's a lot more pride in wearing the Grease Pit uniform.

"Really?" he scoffs sarcastically.

"Of course there is!" I remind him, "Don't you love it when you slide that yellow polo on, look in the mirror, and see a Grease Pit employee staring back at you?"

"No," Amir scoffs, but he doesn't sound convinced.

I can tell I'm finally winning over his thoughts.

"Are you sure?" I press, "Because that's not what you said to me."

"What'd I say?" he only looks confused now.

"You told me you couldn't wait to be a part of this: a down-to-earth, blue-collar life like this. That's why you applied. Remember?"

The former party boy paused, but a grin eventually stretched across his lips. It was the first time I'd ever seen his genuine smile. He was devilishly handsome when he smiled.

"You're right, sir," he sticks out his chest a little, "I'll wear the uniform with pride."

"Every day, right?"

"Yes, sir," he replies cheerily.

"Remember, the best Grease Pit employees always work with a smile!" I add.

Amir laughs respectfully at his boss's quip, turning the sticky stove on. Little does he know that it is no joke. His mind is under my control, and he's just been convinced that he's my little cook who's absolutely beaming with pride and joy in his work.

I give him a playful smack on his rear as I leave. His butt is basically mine to play, and he can only smile and shrug off my advances.

"How're the dishes, son?" I call to Omar, as he scrubs away in the back of the building.

"Screw you," the former executive mutters, "And I'm not your son."

"Oh I don't know if you want to take that tone with me, boy," I remind him, "Remember what happened last time you gave me lip?"

Omar's mouth seals tightly as he looks away.

"Go on," I command, "Remind me."

The oldest son growls, "You made me clean your boots," slamming a dirty dish beneath the steaming water with rage.

"More than that, I think," I continue, "Explain what else."

"You made me lick them!" he yells at me with bared teeth, "And when I wasn't doing that right, you made me slow down and drag my entire tongue across your goddamn shoe."

"That's right," I brush off his intimidation, "Isn't this work so much more enjoyable?"

"It's all terrible!" he growls, "Every second since you showed up has been terrible. This place is disgusting! There's mold in every corner, the place smells like rotten meat, and it's at least a hundred degrees back here!"

I chuckle at the sweat pouring down his shirt.

"Well, the AC hasn't worked for years, and the water always comes out piping hot," I explain, "But that's nothing to be upset about."

"Oh really?" he bellows in rage as he splashes more dirty dishes into the scalding water.

"Sure, don't you love some hard work?" I ask, knowing this man hasn't ever worked hard, "That's the only way you feel accomplished."

"What are you talking about?" he scoffs.

I already know he'll be easy to sway. Men as desperate for attention as he is usually are.

"I'm talking about how you love a good project. You are so hard-working. You need something to apply yourself to completely."

"Well, I do work hard," he reiterates.

"Exactly! That's why I hired you, son."

"I'm not your-"

"Right, your not my son. Im just proud of you, is all. You're my hardest worker here, and I hate seeing this place in such a sorry state."

Omar's eyes soften, and for the first time he doesn't look like he wants to murder me.

"Well, maybe I could see if I can't scrub off that mold later," he quietly suggests.

"You'd do that?" I feign gratitude, "Do you think you could fix the AC too, son?"

"I don't know how that works," he reasons.

"Oh," I give him a look of disappointment.

"But let me try," he calls, sounding slightly desperate, "I'm sure I'll figure it out."

"That's good, son," I say, patting him on the head. Omar can't help but relax as I do, happy he has earned my approval.

Both brothers are eating out of my hand. It's time to visit dad."

"Mr. Malik," I call, "How's the front?"

The mature executive doesn't even bother turning his head, stating, "No customers if that's what you mean. Can't imagine anyone coming into a piece of trash like this."

"You're in here," I remind him.

"Against my will," he reminds me steadily.

He is not going to be as easy to manipulate as his sons, but that's perfectly fine. I don't want to warp this man into the most respectful or dedicated employee. I just want him to watch as I do that to his charming boys.

"So who were you gonna give the company?"

He sighs, staring at the empty restaurant.

"Tell me!" I command.

"Amir," he frowns deeper as his voice betrays him, "Probably. If he ever grew up. Omar was too eager, but he was the backup."

"Which one wants it more, do you think?"

His lip curls warmly as he thinks about his sons, "They both want it more than anything. They just have different ways of showing it."

"Well, I doubt they care about it anymore."

His eyes finally dart to my own. I can tell the all-powerful Mr. Malik is finally scared. He has no idea what I've done to his boys.

"Hey, boys!" I yell, "Get your butts up front!"

I smirk at the petrified father as the stove simmers down and the sink turns off. Heavy feet race over as the duo reports to us. They don't mind their father. The brothers are waiting to hear what I have to say to them.

"Omar?"

"Yeah, boss?" the grown man can barely hide his desperation for my approval.

"I know you had a pretty good career before, son" I admit, winking at the stunned father, "I won't stop you if you want to go back."

"No," his voice cracks as he answers hastily. Casting a nervous glance to his dad, he continues, "I just like the work here. There's a lot to do, but I can help fix this place up."

"You can certainly try, son," I smile deviously.

"And Amir?" The boy straightens his back.

"I wouldn't dream of leaving the Grease Pit, sir," he beams. I reach around and give his rear a playful, squeeze as he smiles wider.

Mr. Malik's nostrils flair as he sees what I've turned them into, but the former tycoon can't do anything about it. I dismiss his sons to get back to work.

The man is helpless to stop his body from giving me everything I want. The mansion, the vacation homes, even ownership of their enterprises were all signed over to me.

"Keep up the good work!" I call cheerily as I leave the restaurant.

While I hop in a sports car and speed off, they stay open late into the night. A few people wander in during their graveyard shift.

When I finally arrive at the secluded mansion, they are finally closing up and cleaning for the night. Amir cleans the kitchen while his older brother mops the floors. Mr. Malik is stuck scrubbing the toilets.

When I finally sink into a massive sofa and enjoy the fire. They are turning out the lights in the back office. Mr. Malik and his youngest curl up on stuff cots while Omar stays up to take care of the mold problem. He is certainly willing to go the extra mile for me.

As I drift off, I chuckle at the portrait of the three men. It's a silly thing to have such a grand painting of three fast food workers.

[docholligay]

Shamash day points: Misc Nominations

Boy do I always have so much fun reading these! Thanks you to everyone who answered. It was hard picking the winners, as it often is, but here they are!

The question was: Tell me about the worst meal you had this year.

1 point to @beefsaladthethirtythird with that's herring under a fur coat! I love herring under a fur coat WHAT DID YOU DO:

For new years my partner and I made this Russian dish called "selyodka pod shuboy", dressed herring salad. It has salted herring, potatoes, carrots, beets and onions,(but we might have left them off), all held together with layers of mayonnaise. My partner put way too much mayo on the salad, and combined with the fatty herring, it was so greasy as to be borderline inedible. Like, it was give-you-GI-issues bad. My partner loves that salad recipe, but she also could not eat more than a little of it. I tried to get through it but it was making me ill after eating so i trashed the leftovers. we made other Russian New Years dishes, and they were all pretty good, but the dressed herring was a no-go.

2 points-- @seolh with the saddest bachelor meal I have ever heard

It's late. I've been at the office for over fourteen hours, but finally I am home. I am hungry but I am also so, so tired. A basic salad sounds like a nice, low-energy idea for food.

I take a chicken breast out of the freezer and put it directly in the oven. It is not seasoned.

I put some lettuce in a bowl. I decide to I am too tired to chop veggies right that moment. I sit on the couch. I sit. I sit some more. I'm so hungry.

I go get the bowl and start picking at the lettuce with my fingers, shoving it into my mouth. It is bland and almost bitter and not particularly pleasant. I continue eating it. Soon, it is gone. The chicken continues to cook.

I just want to go to bed, but I am not sated, and know I need protein. I wait for the chicken to cook. I let it rest. With no seasoning or oil, the top of the chicken breast looks rubbery and a bit shrivelled.

I slice up the chicken breast. I consider attempting to add some flavour, but that's effort. I stand at the corner eating unseasoned pieces of chicken breast. It is not unpleasant, but it is extremely boring. And finally, time for sleep.

…THE worst meal of the year, by far, and I did it to myself!

3 points, @katrani with how did you manage to fuck this up so badly what a wild ride:

….it was actually just this morning. I had bought some ciabatta rolls last weekend, for a specific thing, then because of Reasons couldn't make the thing on the planned night. We had a get-together yesterday, and someone had to spend the night because they were a little too drunk and tired to get home. Perfect, thinks me, even though it is the time of year for jinxes, I still have that bread and can do breakfast sandwiches! Well. Morning arrived, cheerful and optimistic. Even having our first real chill for the year was fine, cause it meant I had been extra cozy and woke up gradually, I felt so rested! Amazing energy levels for cooking! …..the bread had molded. I took too long, and it had been claimed by that stealthy t-rex of modern biology.

This is still okay, muses me, I can find a workaround. Except my fridge and cupboards are emptier than normal, as I'm trying to keep things low so I can scrub everything during an upcoming long weekend. However!!!!!!!!!!! A light! A shining, glorious utility food- I have instant potato flakes! I can very easily make some bullshit hashbrowns!!!! Who doesn't love even a shitty hashbrown patty! And it'll still work as a sandwich kind of thing!!

So I mix the flakes with the smallest amount of water, just enough to make them pasty/battery. I season them, I mold them together, they're sticking as patties fine enough! I heat up the oil, and… they fall apart. So badly. I forgot that the last time I used them for this I had to make them into the mashed potato format and then fry dollops of that. Doing it straight out of the box does not work. Can I blame the heteros for straight out of the box being a terrible idea? Probably not, but it would make me feel better.

Even thinking that okay, it'll be a skillet now, I'll break apart the patties and fry it as lumps of potato batter does not work. They just WILL NOT fry up, the oil soaked into the solid portion a bit too much and now it's not cooking right. Sure, the bottom is crisping, and I can scrape that up and mix it in, but most of it has become just a sludge. A slurry even. Completely unappetizing. I'll have to throw it all out, and borrow someone's rosary or something so I can make proper apologies to the spirits of my fiance's Midwest Irish family for fucking up perfectly good potato product so horrendously.

So all I have to offer my guest, 45 minutes after we've been awake, is some eggs, and they do not like eggs by themselves. My fiance and I eat what I was able to make, and they're well-seasoned, and the texture is actually the best I've gotten eggs to be in a while… but it is poisoned by the shame of not being able to care for my guest, any enjoyment I might have would be a slap in the face to their hunger, a breach of their trust in me to be a proper hostess.

As they were leaving they told me they don't really have breakfast most of the time anyways.

You definitely would have gotten points if you had elaborated at all, @iscahwynn because a 7-11 challenge sounds TERRIFYING

[myrinthinks]

7 and 20 for the ask! (Grocery theme!!)

(In reference to this ask meme.)

7. Any groceries you’ve been getting into lately?

Aaaah, I don't think so, honestly. I mean, I've started to buy ice cream in tubs from time to time which isn't something I used to do but it's both irregular and not exceptional enough to warrant calling "getting into", I'm afraid.

20. What’s in your freezer right now? Oh, I can answer that easily and exactly because I actually have a list because I keep forgetting things are in there somewhere in the back and then I buy them again (and again. And again.). Be warned that this is a very German list and I'm not sure how well I'll be able to translate it, both literally and figuratively (in what it conveys). Let's see:

The mentioned tub of ice cream. It's walnut even though I usually get vanilla and am not actually a big walnut fan. Don't ask me why I got it, then. Half eaten.

Red cabbage, leftover from the last time I made pork roast.

A few bread dumplings, also leftovers from the last time I made pork roast.

A red bell pepper, cut into strips.

10 gyoza wrappers. I make like two too many with every batch and now I'm almost at the point where they'll make a whole batch by themselves!

A salmon fillet.

Half a loaf of kashkaval cheese, cut.

Lemon juice, tomato paste, and garlic paste made in an ice cube tray.

Two small containers of chopped dill, one of chopped thyme.

A bag of chopped parsley.

Four raw gyoza.

A small container of leftover... stew? I don't really know what you'd call this in English. It was originally (like, fifteen years ago) this recipe but I've changed it to my family's taste and it's been a staple ever since. I only make it rarely for myself but since it's very filling, even small amounts can make a satisfying lunch!

Brown mushrooms, chopped.

Grated parmesan.

A chicken breast.

A bunch of... sausage? This was the part I was thinking of mostly when I wrote the introductory paragraph. There is weirdly no real way to translate this into English because I don't think you guys really have this? At least not in the way you can get it at the butcher's? My dictionary is giving me "lunch meat", "cold meat", and "cold cuts"?? Is that what it's called? It's like this. I get a few different types at once so that I can freeze and then thaw them as I need them.

Two ends of Leberkas, which my dictionary helpfully calls "type of meat loaf found in Austria and parts of Germany and Switzerland". Contrary to my sister, I don't actually like the end parts ("Scherzerl") but I still get them whenever the butcher has them because I like putting them, diced, into pasta salads. And sometimes they're big enough to cut them into two pieces, one of which doesn't have the actual end part, and then I bake that and put it on a bread roll.

A piece of butter I rescued from going bad when I last knew I would be gone for two weeks. It's been living here for quite some time now because somehow there's never the right opportunity to take it out.

Three horsemeat sausages.

Two Bratwürste (and I HATE that you guys don't have a translation for that), a special blend the local butcher makes only in the summer which is SO GOOD. It's a bit spicy and I basically can't tolerate spice at all so I was really surprised by how much I like them when I first tried them. They're thin and an orange-y red and shed a lot of oil when you fry them but they're divine.

A bag of scallions. Just like with the celery stick video I reblogged recently, I should be allowed to buy one or two scallions, not a whole bunch of them! My freezer is never free of scallions because of this.

Four bread rolls. The bakery is just around the corner from my flat but I still don't feel like going every other day so I get a bunch of bread and rolls once a week or so and then freeze them for later use.

Two bags of pancake strips. I made way too many pancakes on Saturday and since in broth is the best way to eat them anyway I cut the leftover ones up and froze them in batches so that I get to enjoy my favourite type of soup whenever I want.

[the-coconut-asado]

Eating the Sevillana

This is a very short post about a very big dish.

I had a friend whose number one bucket list wish was to dance the Sevillana in Seville itself. She would go all misty-eyed,  start to roll her wrists and glide around the room in slow-mo at the very mention of it. Not sure if she ever realised her dream but every time I do a wrist roll in pilates I think of her. She is my earworm equivalent of the Mandalorian theme tune.  

Which got me thinking:  if the Sevillana was a dish, what dish would it be? 

Having visited Seville for the first time late last year,  I think I have the answer. 

It’s Arroz con Pata. 

Arroz con Pata (or the more prosaic Rice with Duck) is the perfect fusion of indulgence, seduction and intensity. Stick with me here, this is not mere hyperbole. The version I ate was served in the shallowest of pans, glistening, oil-slicked  pearls of calasparra rice enriched with garlic, herbs and an intense bone broth, topped with thin slivers of duck breast, shimmeringly pink in the middle and crispy skin outside. All this with a sprig of rosemary and a genius few knobs of butter to finish it off.

I could have polished off the entire dish for two  if this hadn’t been a  sharing situation - and I also had my pick of artichoke tempura and pork belly in this line up:  greed was still good. 

I kept coming back to this dish over the very few days of my visit. Partly because deep in the heart of the tourist area your choices are a bit hit and miss, but more because I wanted to identify all the flavours in the dish to recreate it. Then I came back to my kitchen and tried out a version that included tiny jewels of chopped chorizo. 

Maybe because that first attempt resulted in me setting fire to the extractor fan (too much duck fat meets a splash of wine equals inferno - but I still blamed the chorizo fat) I left chorizo out in my second attempt and, whether by accident or design,  it was the right choice. 

Here’s the recipe for my version of Pata con Arroz. Do be careful when adding wine to sizzling fat, and make sure you have taken the pan off the heat for a couple of minutes and poured away all but a tablespoon of the stuff. One forkful  and  you’ll have the Sevillana dancing in your mouth. 

My Pata con Arroz

Serves 2-3 hungry people. 

Ingredients

2 large duck breasts, skin slashed

1 tbsp olive oil

2 banana shallots, chopped finely

1 medium- large red chilli, chopped

1 generous tsp. Ground cumin

1 tsp thyme (dried or freshly picked leaves)

1 tbsp sweet paprika

1 pinch saffron

2 cloves garlic, crushed

1 tbsp honey

1 jar roasted red peppers, drained and roughly chopped

1 400g can borlotti or butter beans

150ml red wine

400 ml chicken or vegetable stock

200g calasparra rice

1 lemon

Seasoning

Bunch of flat leaf parsley, chopped

25g salted butter

How to make

Heat the stock in a saucepan and keep warm on a very low heat, or turn the heat off and cover. 

Heat the oil in a deep skillet and fry the duck breasts, skin side down on a medium heat, for 4 minutes. Turn over and fry for another 2 minutes then remove the duck breasts and put to one side. Take the pan of the heat and drain all but 1 tbsp of the oil and duck fat (the skin will give off a lot of fat). Add back to a low heat then add the wine and stir as it bubbles and reduces a little, then add the honey and stir. Add the duck breasts back to the pan and simmer, basting with the honey wine mix until cooked but still pink in the middle - 3-4 minutes. Remove the duck to a plate, cover in foil and keep warm. 

Add another tbsp. Oil to the pan, reheat then add the shallots and chilli.

Stir fry for a couple of minutes until caramelising then add the peppers, then the borlotti beans. Stir for a couple of minutes until the juices are slightly thickened and bubbling. Then add the rice and stir to coat. 

Slowly add the stock to the pan, season with salt and pepper, then let it all bubble on a low heat until the stock has reduced and the rice is cooked (15-20 mins). 

Slice the duck breasts and arrange over the rice. Scatter with chopped parsley and knobs of butter, then a squeeze of lemon to serve.

[wanderinthedeep]

Cooked a big meal with my partner for the first time last night. (Context: they are Indian, I am the most Midwest white boy. I very rarely cook, and when I do I am incapable from deviating away from the instructions because I don’t know enough to be confident in what each ingredient adds).

Fave quotes:

• “Whatever the amount of spices they have listed, you can go ahead and double that. At least. Doubling is like bare minimum.”

• *they’re reading the recipe in this cookbook my parents gave me* “And then they say to omit the black pepper if you’re using these other spices which is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. No.”

• “Actually before we bread the fish let’s just-“ *absolutely soaks every square inch in lemon juice. puts more lemon juice in the frying oil. serves with a lemon garnish at the end.* “Lemon is 80% of flavor.”

Bonus: *at the grocery store deciding between asparagus and broccolini* “Just bend down and smell the water that asparagus is standing in and tell me if you still want it in your body. That scent is gonna haunt me the rest of the night.”

And of course it turned out 50x more delicious than when I’ve tried to make it in the past. 🥰

[libidomechanica]

Untitled Composition # 10175

A tricube sequence

               I

All of cold look’d upon us? Aye,

happing slantagonian his eye are

awaken the was not soon his tears!

               II

And have gain. Was none! As my worth, by

exhort hast we all—against heards

unruly lapt him that more and last none.

               III

A black laid, ere is calmly bow’st; nor

blue we doth sprinth—O thou stood in such

are meanes bow’d sin, and cold.—Away!

               IV

The delight. Here my half only fled.

Theme, my lamp from the put hard with the

surprison, and traine, and price; and face.

               V

Sweet joy bed from them stubborn. Fair theyr

grace as, I fry in his fish trade, as

graces. Name which though, yields bliss, the oil.

               VI

This, in your wrapt spottent a little

conscient of hermit ye that night Elfind

his stone head. Then gates, when with flame?

               VII

They knelt that useless and youth, the kiss

their vp lustream and neverywhere

why sweet sub- maring for the old be.

               VIII

The gown: lycius! Into a dull eithere

there upon a more to admits

were ever the city grieve, for bone.

               IX

New what day, make on some always soft

arm of Kingdom! Is none friends: summercy,

Pity, but I’m posses come pine.

               X

You are that stome which my fight; at the

moonbeamest the Love the the pale a

tame, aman’st pushin’d, couchings meth drest.

               XI

’ Inward my sweet dragged by motto of

Angel cave been o’ the whate, it’s when

the said: but, indeeds. For so low stree.

               XII

That prove’s sing eyes house, and how his arms

of your blossoms, if youth in ther her!

That world, is no more that the may do.

               XIII

How half ye who slaverneath be with

saw Salámán’s own born? Of thin hast

the faire. Heart’s congration one smyle.

               XIV

Ye two first the rose out have high strilled

thirty yearnest. Into sweet you

and gain field, to was ship for Hephael!

               XV

Hard upon thundred. My thy let him

the you gaue, till enemies. Let even

year, for and how young merely say!

               XVI

Or, for your seems to slow doe run? And

talks o’er woman sae busy is, or

a playne, Thus might she nature o’t.

               XVII

Do I die her the we art. No Willis—

for thee weak illus way then, black,

and Love, shown,& chace in his could could dear.

               XVIII

So comple man, above as thrally

invested, that room, at beneath-air,

or them along. Take ye no would pleast.

               XIX

Steal abour hurt me times to me come

from the on ther grown’d, exception. The

flower smoke to me; and Love, become.

               XX

Seats, all all many a trade flowre, posses,

and ye dally. Beginnings save

which servading, like a new woman!

               XXI

Does at them uneager so? Voyage

out of my fame, nor biyondemn’d of this

breaker matcherye be wide a spoke head.

               XXII

Crawls the the silented? Do forgot

tried, I call: my contenties us

men’s true as Will room each experies!

               XXIII

The first with his scythe had my hear her

none! When I may do but pinions of

some this, their is new up with promon.

[zemedelphos]

Actually, I can relate to anon. And I think I can provide some help.

So first, anon. You're never going to "like vegetables", as a concept. That's just how you and I have developed, and without a lot of work, that's not going to change.

But I promise there are things amongst the category of "vegetables" that you will find you like. For example, when I was young about the only vegetables I'd eat were potatoes, carrots, and corn. The potatoes could be in any form, the carrots would either have to be raw, or cut into medallions and candied (cooked in a certain proportion of water, honey, cinnamon, and brown sugar), and the corn either needed to be boiled or barbequed on the cob, or boiled off the cob.

I wouldn't touch things like onions, tomatoes, lettuce, pickles, or spinach. Onions and tomatoes were slimy, obviously! While lettuce, pickles, and spinach were green, so clearly they can't be good, right?

Well as I got older, around middle school, I started to try to make an effort. I started with small, simple salads. I found out that while it doesn't have a lot of flavor in and of itself, lettuce is perfectly fine texturally, and adds some crispness to the bite. And you can always put some flavorful dressing, croutons, or cheese with the lettuce, and carrots and baby corn are usually an option!

Then as I got older, my first year in high school, we were making chili dogs for dinner at home, and there were some chopped white onions among the toppings. Well, nobody else was around...and I can't really keep saying I don't like something I've never had, can I? So I popped a pinch of onions in my mouth. Anon. Did you know that raw onions are not only sweet, they're *spicy*? Not like, "hot, mouth burning" spicy, but tongue-tingly, nose iching, eye-moistening spicy. Holy shit, was it good. And then, I discovered you can caramelize them? They stop being spicy but they become SO sweet and SO savory, and they're basically the perfect pairing with a meaty meal.

And wow, these onions are good, and I like using garlic powder...so let's try some garlic. I now find that I can't ever use ENOUGH garlic when cooking. And if you take a little bit of a raw one? Oh, it's like the spice of an onion turned up to 11. It'll wake you up. You'll feel like your tongue is on fire, but in the best way you've ever felt.

And then, spinach. I would never eat that. That's that nasty wilted stuff that comes in a can full of nasty leaf water, right? Well, one day I was trying to make myself a sandwich, and I grabbed what I thought was a head of iceberg lettuce from the fridge and used that. It tasted great. I never noticed it wasn't lettuce until someone told me it was cabbage. I was like. "Wow, I still really hate the smell and taste of cabbage when it's cooked, but raw it's fine. It's exactly like lettuce to me." And that gave me an idea. So one day at subway, I ask them to make my usual sandwich: roast beef on italian with provolone, toasted, with red onions, honey mustard, and a light amount of mayo...but this time, I also had them add spinach. OP when I tell you it improved that sandwich, what I considered the perfect subway sandwich (may it forever rest in peace), improved that sandwich by 10%, I was flabbergasted. I thought you couldn't improve the heterogeneity of the sandwich, couldn't improve the texture, couldn't improve the taste. And I was wrong. I still won't get canned spinach, fuck that. But I will absolutely buy a 5 oz box of baby spinach and cook those bad boys down in oil in a separate pan before adding it to my beef and veggie stir fry right at the end. The taste is of the spinach is fine. The texture is great, and it's just going to make that meal all the more filling.

Now, I still don't fucks with tomatoes or pickles. And I never will be able to. I've tried them. Hell, I bit into a pickle just last week. It wasn't on purpose, of course. I never tried these things on purpose, but it has happened that I've tried them, and I still absolutely do not like them for their flavor or their texture. Tomato sauce is fine, so long as the tomatoes are properly and completely mashed to a paste. But as for the fruit itself, pass. Same with the pickled cucumber. The taste, the texture, the smell. Can't stand it.

BUT. I have gone from 15, only having potatoes, corn, carrots, and lettuce as the only veggies I'd eat, to 31 and not only willing to eat, but ENJOYING spinach, cabbage, kale, onions, garlic, ginger, turmeric, chives, leeks, lemon grass, shallots, scallions, sweet potatos, water chestnuts, kidney beans, red beans, nori (the seaweed typically used in sushi), and probably more I can't remember.

The trick, and the tricky part, is finding the methods of preparation that bring out the most flavors that you enjoy. Like for me, with onions, garlic, and corn, they can be cooked almost any way and I'll like them. With things like cabbage it just can't be cooked. With spinach, it just needs to be fresh. Sweet potatoes need to be baked, or sliced thin and fried. Kidney beans need a sweet brown sugar sauce to cook in. While redbeans need to be cooked in a slow cooker with sausage, onions, and certain seasonings, and served with rice.

Find a vegetable you find might be the most inoffensive, then research some ways they can be prepared. And give it a shot. All you can do is continually search for new things and methods that give you a vegetable in a form you'd want to eat.

This is a weird question but how does one eat their vegetables when it makes me feel sick looking at them even as an adult

I don't really know if I can answer this because I've always liked eating vegetables, so I don't have this perspective. The best I can think of is "avoid preparing them in the same way you hated eating them as a kid". I don't know enough about you or your situation to know if this is at all helpful, though. Sorry.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

What’s yours is mine 1

Warnings: nonconsent and rape, allusions to abuse, stalking, possessiveness, pregnancy, and more tags to be added.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairing: dark!Ransom Drysdale x pregnant!Reader

Summary: After five years, your past is far behind you but just as you think you can live your happily ever after, your ex shows up at the worst moment.

Note: I couldn’t sleep and ended up writing this and it will not be a long ongoing series but it will be a few parts. But Roo you say that all the time. Yes, well, I’m trying and I’m sorry but I’m gonna try to not be the worst.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

“Oh my god, is that really you?” the voice made you stand stalk straight.

You took a breath and forced a smile before you turned to the indomitable woman. You never expected to see Linda again, not after you broke up with her son almost five years ago. And there she was, as rigid and righteous as ever, her thin lips curved in a mocking grin.

“Linda,” you greeted her in a singsong and looked around the grocery store. You never went to the overpriced organic market but your local shop didn’t have dragonfruit and you had a painful craving, “how are you?”

“Darling, I’m just great,” she held an empty basket on her arm, an odd sight as you never expected her to do her own shopping, “oh, and look at you!” Before you knew it, her hand was on your stomach and you struggled not shy away, “how far are you?”

“Um,” you looked down at the large ring on her finger and resisted the urge to step away as you often did in this situation, “almost five months.”

“And married?” she grabbed your left hand and pretended to admire the small teardrop diamond, “gorgeous.”

“Mhmm,” you waited for you to release you and swayed in place, “you barely look a day older than the last time I saw you.”

“You’re well? You look well,” she primped her short hair at the compliment, “oh, a baby.” She reached out again and you sighed as she rubbed your stomach, “for luck.”

You tried not to frown and ended up laughing at the tension, “well, it was nice running into you.”

“Oh, you know, I barely come down here but we’re headed up to my father’s place, you remember, such a cozy house, and Joni is in charge of food and well, I wouldn’t trust her with a plastic spoon so of course, I have a back up plan.”

You nodded along with her awkwardly, frozen in the spot as the dragon fruit barely seemed worth the torture. Linda was hard to please and alway derisive, but for as long as you were with Ransom, she had taken a keen shine to you. That alone came with an edge but it was rarely used to cut you.

You forced another laugh, “that sounds fun, getting away from the city.”

“Ugh, just another family gathering,” she waved it off with her free hand, “I’ll have to tell Ransom I ran into you, if he even shows up.”

“Well, I don’t think--”

“He’s grown up so much,” she interrupted, “you wouldn’t believe it. He got his own imprint in my father’s company publishing true crime. He’s really making a place for himself now.”

“That’s great,” you tried not to falter at the mention of her son. You hadn’t ended on the greatest terms and your relationship had been tumultuous and regrettable.

“I hope you have a great weekend, Linda,” you said, “but I got to--”

“Oh, not at all, I’m keeping you,” she squeezed your arm, “God, he was such an idiot to let you go.”

You nodded and swallowed through your tight throat, “I’m glad he’s doing better for himself.”

“You too,” she trilled, “oh, before I let you go, darling, is it a boy?”

You blinked and your smile wavered, “how did you know?”

“I could always tell,” she said, “so precious.”

She gave your stomach one last pat and disappeared into the produce section. You blinked as you looked down at the scaled fruit in your right hand. Chocolate, you needed chocolate.

You were rattled as you waited in the express line and put your things on the belt. You hadn’t thought of Ransom in a very long time. Not much. His shadow followed you around in those moments when your heart raced and your head spun, but you had learned to work through those fits. No one else knew what happened behind closed doors, they only knew Ransom, not Hugh.

You paid and shoved your fruit and candy into a paper bag. You headed out into the misty spring air. The rain had finally stopped and left the streets slick and shining. The sun was hazy as it clung to the last of the clouds and you inhaled the wet scent of grass and gravel.

You let your key hang from the ignition as you took a moment to gather yourself. You stared at the modest ring on your finger and held your stomach and you swore you could still feel Linda’s bony hand there. 

You had a loving husband, Dez, and a son on the way. Ransom wasn’t a part of any of that and this was just a blip on radar, the aftershock of the storm that ended years before. You sniffed and turned the engine. You wouldn’t go back to that store, it was far too expensive and the clientele were certainly not of your ilk.

🍼

Dez was in the kitchen when you got home, the smell of steak and peppers rose from the frying pan. You kissed his cheek as he kept one hand on the spatula and you dropped your bag on the counter beside the stove. You went to the fridge and poured yourself a glass of water. You turned and leaned against the marble and drank deeply.

“So, hon, how was your day?” he asked as he put the spatula down and peeked in the bag, “hmm, odd pairing but I don’t hate it.”

“I had a craving,” you shrugged, “it was… okay,” you heaved, “what’s for dinner?”

“Steak fajitas,” he said, “I trimmed the fat for you and,” he turned and reached out to you, “and I got you some champagne… non-alcoholic, obviously.”

“You know it doesn’t have the same effects,” you kidded as you put your glass down and settled into his arms, “and well,” you looked down at your stomach, “we already got one drunken night growing.”

He laughed and bent to kiss you on the lips. He rocked you as the pan sizzled behind him. You closed your eyes and tensed as suddenly your head flashed with the memory of Ransom, of the way he’d kiss you, harder than Dez, and the way it always turned to more whether you wanted it or not.

“Hey,” Dez pulled back, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied, “hormones.”

“Aw, hon, well I have the perfect dessert planned,” he purred.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm, strawberry massage oil,” he framed your face with his hand, “a nice long back rub…”

“Perfect,” you giggled, “why are you spoiling me?”

“Don’t I always?” he smirked.

“Hmm, rarely without reason,” you said.

“Well…” he voice trailed off and slowly he dropped his arms. He turned his back to you and grabbed the pan, stirring the contents with a shake, “I didn’t want you to miss me too bad.”

“Miss you?” you came forward and bent your arms over the counter, “where are you going?”

“Chicago, there’s some evidence down there we need to look at and they refuse to transfer it to our office so… bullshit confidentiality clause, but we need it.”

“How long?” your heart dropped.

“Well, I gotta leave in the morning but I told Gary I won’t stay longer than Monday.”

“And what did he say?”

“He laughed,” Dez shook his head, “I promise, I’ll do my best to be back as soon as I can--”

“No, I understand,” you said gloomily, “it’s just…” you cupped your chin and tapped your lips with your fingertips, “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he said as he turned the burner off, “and this little guy,” he touched your stomach and you shivered as you remembered how Linda had done the same with her cold palm, “so, you choose a name yet?”

“Still not naming him Superman, babe,” you chided, “but no, I can’t make up my mind. God, it’s like my mind is in shambles, I can’t remember why I go in a room or even focus on one thing for more than two minutes before I’m distracted by what colour I want to paint the nursery and I can’t even decide on that because then I’m thinking about what kind of wood the crib should be--”

“It’s fine, you’re fine,” he assured as he opened the bag of tortillas, “you’re still there, you’re just… sharing a brain right now.”

“Wasn’t enough to go around in the first place,” you scoffed.

“Shh,” he arranged the plates carefully, like a five star restaurant, tortillas stacked, steak and veg together, a little dish of cheese, some sour cream, lettuce, salsa, all divvied out in a spectacular salsa you would only make a mess of.

“I thought the pregnancy would give me a chance to finish my book, but--”

“Well, you got maternity leave after that,” he said.

“From what? Sitting at my keyboard and crying? I’ll just be holding a baby and crying,” you sighed, “you said you’d take some time off.”

“I did say that and I will,” he grabbed the plates and nodded you out of the kitchen. He set the plates on the table and you sat as he went to grab two glasses and as many bottles. He poured you your spineless champagne and had a beer for himself, “I don’t want to miss anything.”

“You can’t take forever off,” you muttered, “we both know that. I could go back to copywriting and maybe--”

“Babe, that job made you miserable and you will finish your book,” he handed you a napkin, “I’ve read your stuff, it’s… you said your ex was in publishing?”

“Did I?”

“I thought you did, you never really… talk about the exes, which I love but, I think you said something about it. You don’t think he would--”

“No,” you snapped, “no,” you said softer, “he wouldn’t.”

“Sorry,” he said startled by your reaction, “I didn’t--”

“It’s nothing, I just-- exes, right?”

“It was a stupid suggestion,” he said, “I’m sorry, but… I have a client, he might have some contacts.”

“You don’t have to do that--”

“I don’t have to, I want to because the world deserves to hear your voice,” he insisted, “I hate to share you but I’d be selfish to keep you to myself.”

You smiled and unfolded a tortilla. Still, your heart raced as the second mention of Ransom that day had you on edge. Dez watched you build your fajita and you looked up at him.

“Well, since you’ll be in Chicago, maybe I’ll get a few pages done.”

🍼

The call came on Monday, Dez wouldn’t be home that night. You contented yourself to stay in with your laptop and sugar cookies. Still, you barely got a sentence done before you snapped your computer closed and gave up with a frustrated grunt. You slept, not well, and got up with some trouble as your hips ached.

A good morning text from Dez made you smile but there was still no promise of an impending return. You felt pent up in the apartment and lonely as its emptiness reminded you of your absent husband. Too tense to sit down and type, you opted to go for a walk, hoping it would calm your nerves.

You walked past the shop windows and stopped to peek in at used books and handmade candles. You had no destination in mind, only a restless step. There was a little store at the corner with locally made quilts and knitted sweaters. The smell of potpourri wafted out from beneath the painted door and made your throat tickle. Even so, your curiosity drew you inside.

A small woman greeted you from behind the desk. She held two needles as she crocheted some indistinguishable craft. You smiled and said hello as you headed down the centre aisle. You looked along the racks of quilts, floral, striped, plaid, and polka dot. You stopped at a bright yellow piece with honey bees along the border. You hadn’t thought of yellow for the nursery.

You felt the soft fabric and checked the tag. You lifted the quilt from the bar, content that it was worth it and a great motivator. You stopped before you could turn back, a familiar voice chilled your blood.

“It’s cute,” Ransom said as he stepped up next to you, “kinda girly for a boy though.”

You glanced over at him and folded the blanket over your arm. You backed up but as you turned he did too. He blocked your bath as he stretched his arm across the aisle.

“My mother told me you were expecting,” he said, “and she was right, you look good.”

“What do you want?” you whispered as you clutched the quilt.

“Nothing, just saying hello,” his mouth slanted.

“Hugh, I’m not stupid,” you hissed, “it’s been five years.”

“Hugh,” he repeated dully, “you remember your manners.”

“Leave me alone and let me past,” you tried to duck under his arm but he shifted his body over and backed you up to the end of the aisle.

“And married,” he taunted.

“He’s outside,” you lied, “if I stay too long--”

“I didn’t see him when you walked up,” he intoned, “he must be easy to miss.”

“Have you been following me?” you uttered.

“Only from the cafe,” he shrugged, “short walk.”

“Please, get away from me,” you quivered.

“I’m not doing anything--”

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” you hissed, “now I will scream so move.”

“Mama Bear,” he crooned, “I love it, you’re so protective.”

“Hugh,” you warned.

“Sweetie,” he hummed.

You shoved his shoulder but he didn’t move. You hit him harder and he winced. He chuckled and stood straight. He waved his arm down the aisle and stepped aside.

“Don’t make a scene,” he said, “you always did like to be dramatic.”

“Fuck you,” you snarled, “don’t come near me again.”

“Don’t act like you don’t miss me,” he called after you as you dropped the quilt on the counter, “we were so good together.”

You left without buying, a shrill apology to the lady at the counter as you went as fast as you could out the door. The bell tinkled after you and the door clamored shut. You felt nauseous and dizzy. The last thing you wanted or needed was to ever see that man again.

[starryeyedrookie]

The Pancake Predicament (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Ethan x MC (Evelyn Long)

Word count: 808

Rating: Teen+ due to some mildly suggestive themes

Category: Fluff

Summary: Evelyn guides Ethan through the art of pancake making

A/N: Hello, hello! I’m finally back with a new fic after having not written one since July.😬 This one is a little on the shorter side, but hopefully it’s the start of me getting back into writing. Thanks to everyone that’s stuck with me and to all the new people that followed, I hope you all enjoy reading❤️

In the soft, orange glow of the morning, a small figure tiptoes across the room, pillowcase in hand.

Reaching the other side of the bed, she carefully tries to place it over the head of the sleeping giant.

“Shhhh… it’ll be over soon,” she whispers.

“Mmmmm…. huh? Evelyn wha-”

“Aw, Ethan. You wrecked my plan. You weren’t supposed to wake up yet.” She sighed, slowly removing the pillowcase from his head.

“Your… plan?” He inquired, rubbing his tired eyes.

“Mhm, my plan.”

“Okay, why did your “plan” involve putting a pillowcase over my head?”

“Because I was trying to kidnap you! I’m pretty sure pulling up with candy in a white van wouldn’t work, so I thought this would be the next best thing!”

“Evelyn. We live together.”

“I know, but I was trying to make things interesting.”

“Come here.”

Climbing over Ethan onto the bed, Evelyn lays down in his outstretched arms.

“What did you need me for on this fine morning?”

“I was thinking…” she started, carefully tracing a finger over his chest, “that I could teach you to make pancakes today.”

“Me? Pancakes? You already know that I can’t make those.”

“Which is exactly why I’m going to teach you. Since I’ve gotten to know you, I’ve always found it so strange that a guy that can make a fancy Georgian Stuffed Chicken can’t make and fry a simple little pancake batter. I suppose Nigella didn’t teach you well enough.” she laughed, knowing she caught his attention with her last comment.

“I refuse to tolerate any more Nigella slander,” he replied sitting up, “Let’s go.”

Before Ethan could even finish tying his robe, Evelyn took his hand and lead him to the kitchen.

“Surprise! I already separated and measured out the wet and dry ingredients for you so it's one less thing to worry about,” she said as she moved over to the counter. “I also have blueberries and chocolate chips to put in mine, but if you're already overwhelmed, you can leave them out.”

“Okay, let's start. So I just whisk the eggs, milk, melted butter and vanilla in this bowl and then add the mixture to the flour bowl?

“That's the way! Man, I should have my own cooking show.”

“I'm done. Do I put some oil on the griddle?”

“I like to use butter. It gives it a richer flavour.”

“Alright. Are you finished? The griddle is hot now.”

“Yep, I'm all done. Let's spoon it on!”

“How long before we flip them?” Ethan inquiries coming up behind Eve and wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Haha, as soon as they’re golden.”

“Mmm… so, how much time do you think we have?” he whispers in her ear as he turns her around.

“Not enough for whatever you want to start.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he replied, hastily placing her on the kitchen island and settling between her legs.

“Ethan!”

“Shh… let me take care of you.”

Leaning her back on the counter, he gently slides his hand up her leg as he kisses her forehead down to her lips.

“Ethan… something smells li-”

“Yes, something smells lovely. You used that shampoo I told you I liked, didn’t you?” he smiles as he moves his hand to unbutton her top.

“Yes, Ethan. But something smells like it’s burning!”

“What?!”

Turning around as the smoke alarm went off, Ethan rushes to assess the condition of the pancakes while Evelyn opens the door to let out the smoke.

“See? I burnt the damn things. I told you I couldn’t make them.”

Closing the door as the alarm shut off, Eve slowly walked over to where Ethan was staring helplessly at the burnt cakes.

“You were doing well until you decided to get distracted.” she remarked, motioning at her unbuttoned top.

“It’s not my fault that you’re too distracting for your own good.”

“While I appreciate the compliment, we should clean these off and finish the rest of the batter. This time I’m going to make sure you don’t get distracted.”

As Ethan pours the rest of the batter and flips the pancakes, Eve finishes setting the table.

“See, you did it!” she exclaimed as Ethan brought over the steaming hot cakes and maple syrup.

“Yes, yes, mission accomplished I suppose. Though, I do think I deserve a reward for accomplishing such a major feat. Maybe finishing what we started earlier…”

“Haha we’ll see. We have to see if these actually taste good first. We’ll take a bite together one three. One… two… three!”

Taking a bite, Ethan closes his eyes as he savours the rich, buttery flavour.

“Surprisingly, I think these are the best pancakes I’ve ever had.”

“I’m proud of you, you know that?” she smiles, taking his hand.

“I know. Just like how I’m proud of you. Thank you for your help.”

“Anytime.”

Taglist: @mercury84choices @quixoticdreamer16 @a-crepusculo @josiesopenheart @headoverheelsforramsey @mm2305 @adiehardfan @schnitzelbutterfingers @potionsprefect @natureblooms24 @genevievemd @writer-ish @jamespotterthefirst @sophxwithers @liaromancewriter @choicesficwriterscreations

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed❤️

[collecting-stories]

Gone Hunting - c. 18 - Daryl Dixon

Summary: You mention to Daryl that your mom wants you out by graduation and the first night of your hunting weekend begins. 

A/N: This chapter is just them spending time together...

Georgia Masterlist | The Walking Dead Masterlist

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ 

Beth pushed the door to the diner open, three steps ahead of Hershel, eager to grab her favorite corner booth for her weekly ‘daddy/daughter’ date. He kept a day set aside for each of his children to spend time with him alone and Wednesdays were Beth’s. She waved to Patricia as she headed to her booth, stopping short when she recognized the young man sitting in the booth just before theirs, having dinner.  

“Hi!” She slid in across from him, wide smile on display.  

Daryl looked up from his food, eyes narrowing suspiciously at the sight of the kid at his table. “Can I help you?”

“You were at the graduation party.” She said, explaining that she had seen him kissing you down by the barn when she was playing by the oak tree. “Are you dating now?”

“Beth,” Hershel tore his youngest daughter’s attention away from Daryl, “why don’t we eat, leave Mr. Dixon to his dinner.”

“Evening Reverend,” he said, nodding to him.

Beth slid back out of the booth, waving at Daryl as she walked over the coveted corner booth. Hershel lingered for a moment, “heard ya got into a bit of a scuffle with Shane Walsh at my daughter’s graduation party?”

“He minded his own business, wouldn’t a been a scuffle at all.” He said, jaw tense. He’d let a lot of people get away with giving him a lot of shit over the years but he wasn’t about to let anyone suggest that what happened was his fault. Especially not when you had gotten hurt.  

“Listen,” Hershel said, still lingering at the booth, “I know you been spending time with my daughter’s friend. I just wanna be sure you got her best interest in mind.”  

“I ain’t doing anything ‘sides eating my dinner.”  

“Evening Reverend Greene,” you said, coming up beside him at Daryl’s booth. Hershel looked over at you as if you had interrupted his train of thought, quickly recovering with a smile.  

“How’re you doing?” He asked, accepting the hug you offered, rubbing your back before stepping closer to his own booth, catching Beth’s attention.

“Real good,” you replied, shooting Daryl a smile as you said it, “you two want some drinks before menus?”  

“I want a milkshake!” Beth piped up, getting out of the booth to give you a hug. You wrapped your arm around her, pulling her against your side.  

“What kind of milkshake do you want?” You asked.  

She scrunched up her nose, frowning as she considered the few flavors that Patricia offered in the way of milkshakes. Finally her eyes settled on Daryl again, who’d gone back to eating his dinner. “What flavor do you think I should get?” She asked, lifting her foot to prod the vinyl of the booth.  

Daryl looked over at her, “ya gotta go with chocolate,” he replied, glancing up at you for a moment before talking to Beth again, “just don’t let this one get ‘er hands on it, she’ll drink the whole thing.”  

“I will not!” You pouted, giving him your best attempt at a glare.  

Beth giggled, smiling at Daryl as she nodded her head, “okay, chocolate it is.”

You pushed her shoulders, guiding her back over to her booth, “lets go, dinner time.”  

She waved at Daryl as she walked away, smiling even wider when he waved back. You promised to be back with menus before leaving to get their drinks. The diner wasn’t very full, the Wednesday dinner hour really only attracting older couples and a few single people grabbing meals at the end of the day but it was slow, just you and Amy on tonight since Lori wasn’t feeling well.  

You circled back with menus and drinks for Hershel and then pit stopped at Daryl’s table, stealing a fry off his plate as you sat down across from him. “Rick tell you Lori’s baby shower is coming up?” You asked, nabbing another fry.  

Daryl poked your hand with his fork this time, “nah, doesn’t say much about it other than being excited.” He replied, “why?”

“Just wondered...Lori invited me but I'm not sure what to get her.” You didn’t think that Lori would invite Daryl, or even that she would let Rick have Daryl around at all but there was a small part of you that kind of thought it’d be nice to go together. Maybe a little wishful, but nice.  

“I ain’t shopping for baby stuff with ya.”

“You afraid people will talk?” You teased, leaning against the table.  

His cheeks turned red, the color staining all the way up to his ears and down his neck, “Don’t ya got work?”

Otis seemed to be on Daryl’s side, calling an order up for your side of the diner and forcing you back to work. You stole one more fry, turning to stick your tongue out at Daryl as you headed around the counter to get the meal. It wasn’t unusual for Daryl to drive you home from work but he never came inside and definitely never came early. You’d been surprised when he showed up at the diner, walking in and sitting down in your area without saying anything. The surprise hadn’t lasted long, Otis mentioning to you that he’d suggested to Daryl that stopping by might be a good idea.

“Saw Shane in here yesterday looking for you, so when I stopped by Dale’s earlier to get an oil change, I told Daryl about it, Patty said you two are sweet on each other and I’ve never known him to cause any trouble, not like his brother. Made me feel better thinking he’d be here in case that Walsh boy tried stopping in.” Otis had told you when you put Daryl’s order in. “Tell your boy to bring us some venison too, heard he was going hunting.”  

“I’m taking the weekend off to go with him.” You had mentioned when Otis put in the request.

“Tell him to watch his back.” Otis teased, leaning out the window separating the kitchen and the diner, “ya hear that Dixon, you watch your back with this one hunting.” He called.

“Will do,” he replied, nodding his head to Otis in agreement.  

Patricia was less enthusiastic about you going hunting with Daryl, a weekend alone together, but she said nothing about it to you. And if she said anything to her husband, he said nothing to you.  

Daryl finished dinner before you finished your shift, taking the book you offered him from your backpack and sitting there reading quietly as if he was unbothered having to wait around another hour for you. Beth kept peeking at him throughout dinner, and twice waved when he looked up at her. You passed a few times, always stopping if you had a minute to spare and bringing him coffee once on your way around the diner.  

When Beth and Hershel left you were clocking out in the back but Beth stopped to say bye to Daryl while Hershel paid, telling him she would see him around as if they were friends.  

“I’ll see ya ‘round kiddo.” Daryl promised.  

“Alright,” you sighed, coming over and sitting next to him as Beth and Hershel left the diner, “I’m clocked out and all yours.” You leaned over and kissed his cheek, watching him flush.  

“Lucky me,” he replied, doing his best to sound sarcastic though the slight uptick of a smile wasn’t missed by you. “You gotta be home?” He asked as the two of you stood, heading for the door.

“No, my mom thinks I’m staying at Tara’s since we got half-days...told me I better be looking for a place after graduation anyway.” You replied, “guess my time is up at home.”

“Where ya supposed ta stay?”

“I don’t know, Tara’s dad said he doesn’t mind me staying there but not sure I wanna be living there all the time...I’m gonna look for something.” You shrugged, climbing in the passenger seat of his truck and letting him shut the door after you.

He got in the driver’s side, starting the engine, “yer welcome to stay at mine, ain’t anything special though.”

“I don’t know...you’re there.” You replied, smiling when he scoffed.

-

The cabin in the woods was exactly that. And old cabin that Daryl’s great grandfather had built back in the early 1900s for his family to go hunting. It was proper hunting log cabin. Nestled back in the woods off a dirt path that made it almost invisible unless you were right on top of it. Daryl pulled the truck around back, cutting the headlights and engulfing everything in the pitch black of night. You knew you shouldn’t have insisted on stopping for dinner, especially after the late start, but you were starving.  

“This is usually like, the part of the movie when people realize they’re gonna get killed.” You mentioned, getting out of the truck and looking around at the woods as if you could actually see them.  

Daryl didn’t seem bothered by the dark as he got out, grabbing the bags and his crossbow before walking you to the door, “I ain’t gonna kill ya.”

“What if there’s a serial killer in the woods?” You asked, following Daryl into the house.  

He dropped the bags by the door and lit the lantern hanging at the wall. “I been coming here since I was a kid, ain’t ever seen a serial killer. Be dead if I had.”

“You’d be dead or he’d be dead?”

“He’d be dead.” Daryl replied, “I’m a good aim.”  

“I believe it.”  

The inside of the cabin wasn’t anything special. Old furniture, limited electricity, two small bedrooms off the living room, and, “tell me I’m missing the bathroom.”

“It’s outside.” Daryl replied, seemingly unbothered by saying so as he started putting food in the small refrigerator.  

“Outside as in...” you trailed off, standing in the doorway of one of the rooms, waiting for him to offer a further explanation, one that would bring this cabin further into the 21st century.  

“There’s an outhouse in the back.”

“Daryl Dixon, you did not bring me to a cabin in the literal woods with a toilet outside.” You replied, crossing your arms over your chest.  

“Ain’t that big a deal, I come out here all the time.”  

“Well I’m not going out there alone, just FYI...” you muttered, heading back into the room you’d claimed for yourself.  

The night in the cabin was a lot colder than you expected it to be in May. You had assumed the weather would be warming up but it seemed like a chill had set in around the cabin and you woke up in the middle of the night, room pitch black, freezing under the blankets that Daryl had given you.  

You sat up for a moment, waiting for your eyes to adjust to the darkness, carefully stepping out of bed. The wooden floor creaked beneath your feet, as cold as the rest of the room, and you walked out of the bedroom, going to the door next to yours, knocking.  

“Daryl?” You whispered, knocking on the door. “Daryl?”

Footsteps and then the door opened, Daryl standing there in pajama pants, rubbing his eyes. “What’re ya doing up?”  

“I’m freezing.”

“The walls ain’t insulated, ya need another blanket?” He asked.

Another blanket was not what you had in mind when you woke up and forced yourself out of bed in the middle of the night. “I was thinking I could come in?” You suggested.  

“Come in?” He repeated.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “no heat’s better than body heat...right?”  

Daryl narrowed his eyes at you though it was too dark for you to really tell at all. “I didn’t invite ya up fer that.” He clarified, as if maybe you had misinterpreted him wanting to spend time with you as something else.  

You shrugged, you were no blushing virgin and you doubted he was either but that wasn’t why you’d knocked on the door. If he had wanted to, you’d have few objections considering how it’d been that you’d been pining over him, since before Halloween and it was nearly the end of the school year. But really, you were just cold, and your first thought was getting warm. Particularly, getting warm by being close to him.  

“I just wanna lay with you.” You replied, watching as he pushed the door open further as if those had been the magic words. You stepped inside past him, beginning to walk around the left side of the bed when he grabbed your hand.

“That’s my side.”

“Fine.” You huffed, changing your route to the other side.  

The bed was old, just as uncomfortable as yours, but there was still that distinct feeling of warmth beneath the covers as you got in, burrowing down under them and getting as close to Daryl as he’d let you. If there was anywhere you were opposites it was in the amount of physical affection you had to give versus him. He tensed when you rested your head on his chest and wound and arm around his waist. You tried to shift further onto your side and felt his hand on your hip, maneuvering your leg over his to make both of you more comfortable.  

“Ya ain’t got pants on?” He whispered, realizing he was touching your bare skin.

“No, I’m just wearing a shirt. I always do.” You insisted.

“Now wonder yer cold, ain’t even trying ta stay warm.” He grumbled as if the chill was entirely your fault.  

“I am trying to stay warm! What do you think I’m doing in here?” You pinched his side and he let go of your hip to smack your hand. “Hey!” You huffed, changing the subject, “you remember when I fell asleep at your house at Thanksgiving?”  

“Course. Still haven’t given me those clothes back.”

You rested your chin on his shoulder, trying to see him in the dark as he turned his head to look at you, “Is that all you remember?”

“Nah, just figured I was due to hassle ya, considering yer always giving me a hard time.” He replied.

“I knew it then you know? That I wanted to be with you.” You admitted, not so shy about it or worried that he would kick you out of bed for saying so. You pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “I mean, I knew it at the party, when I bummed a cigarette off you and you let me sit outside with you.”

“I didn’t let ya do nothing, ya invited yerself.” He replied.  

“Yeah, cause I was trying to flirt with you!”  

“I knew what ya were doing.” Daryl said, “get some sleep, hunting starts early, deer ain’t gonna wait for chitchat.”

“Fine.” You kissed his shoulder one more time and laid your head down, closing your eyes. “When did you know?”

A heavy groan sounded, “When did I know what?”

“That you liked me?”

“Why’s it matter?” He asked.  

“Cause I wanna know. When were you like ‘heart eyes everytime you looked at me’.”

“Still waiting on it.”

“Daryl!” You pinched his side again and he smacked your hand.  

“Quite doing that, yer more annoying than my brother.” He replied. It was quiet for a moment, complete silence in the room and you were sure Daryl was focusing on going back to sleep when he finally spoke up again. “When I saw ya at the gas station with that kid Glenn.” He admitted, “now go to sleep.”

-

taglist: @cbarter @onemorebeautifulnightmare @mainokutan @solllaris @twdeadfanfic @legit-emily @gigilame @sabertooth-potato @enrapturedbythemoon @thanossexual @yespleasejayhalstead @hopesxxhigh @coffeebooksandfandom @jodiereedus22 @tehfabbooty @thecaptainsgingersnap @of-storms-and-sadness @bucky-barnes-babies @ly--canthrope  @dietspriteaddict @daryldixonandfrogs @jaycc7983 @easnuppa @imaginecrushes @tonystarkismyboy @watchmeaspire @harpersmariano @guccicloudz @sapphire-angel @buzzybhee @alexbealee @elodieyung @its-evita-here @marvelfanatic @pulplorrd @shizukunora @poisonmenegan @hoemadegrace

[iwantutobehapppier]

Lotsa Latkes Fun

Pairing: James ‘Bucky’ Barnes x Jewish Female Reader

Summary: Bucky loves to cook, and he really loves to cook with you. 

Warnings: 18+ Smut, sex, little bit of dirty talk but not really

Word Count: 2,469

A/N: Happy fourth night of Chanukah. Kind of let myself get away with this one haha. Thank you to the amazing @threeminutesoflife​ for helping me with Festival of Smut ides and @sagechanoafterdark​ for making sure my writing makes sense lol

If there was one thing Bucky loved to do post-mission it was to cook. After a good shower and maybe a nap depending on how taxing a mission Bucky loved to get in the kitchen and cook. The best was when it was something he hadn’t ever cooked or eaten before. Even better if he was cooking with you.

The two of you had been together for a short amount of time but it seemed like forever to Bucky. In the best of ways. Your calming demeanor a much-needed reprieve from the chaos the rest of his life brought. Cooking with you reminded him of being with Steve on the battlefield. The two of you in sync and always anticipating where the other was going without saying a word.

He was rather excited waking up from today’s nap knowing you would be coming over to show him how to make Latkes. Looking at the clock Bucky couldn’t help the rush of excitement. When the minute hand ticked by and the sun kept lowering he began to become nervous. He knew you wanted to have the Latkes cooked and ready for sunset.

Resting his hand in the palm of his metal hand he tried to calm himself and not call you just yet. There was still plenty of time he reassured himself, he was just anxious to spend time with you.

When he heard the steps outside his apartment door come closer and then the jingling of keys entering the lock he knew it was you. Trying to act like he was not waiting the past hour or more like a lovesick puppy he jumped onto the couch grabbing the first thing he could to fake read.

“I’m so sorry motek,” you rush in shutting and locking the door behind you to keep the cold out before you lug your giant bag full of goodies to the kitchen looking around for your geriatric counter partner. Catching him reading a magazine. One you were pretty sure you left last time.

“Enjoying that issue of Vogue?” An eyebrow lifted at him as he looked at the magazine he grabbed. Couldn’t have been the latest issue of Bon Appetit he bought at a stand the other day, nope had to be your fashion magazine the one he grabbed.

“I was smelling the cologne?” You roll your eyes, Bucky setting it down and leaping over the couch one-handed. Wrapping you up in his arms he feels the winter chill on you, his hands rubbing your back to push his warmth through you.

Curling your arms under his to grip his shoulders from behind you lift for the expected kiss that Bucky certainly delivers. The plush connection doing more than enough to warm you up. Soft kisses, and a playful growl when you nip his bottom lip are enough to wash away any leftover fervid feelings over your delay.

“Let’s get cookin’ hot mama,” Bucky lets go of you to grab your overweight bag with ease. Placing it on the kitchen counter he starts emptying and you grab the menorah and candles to set them on his coffee table for later.

After the two of you move around the kitchen together getting items together you rejoin to peel the giant bag of potatoes. Bucky pauses to question your recipe.

“So you just know how much?” Nodding your head you pass him another potato to peel.

“Just how many potatoes do you need? The whole bag or some of them?" He keeps on, wanting to learn the recipe you seemed to not know how to explain. "Yes," your only response.

“We’re using yellow onions in the food processor as well, they can be pretty powerful. How do you know when enough is enough?” Pausing you turn your body to him and put the peeler on your cheek. “When I say we do?”

“That’s not helpful,” he huffs, cutting the yellow onions into quarters after you handed them to him. “Where is the recipe from?”

“My mom’s head, who got it from her great aunt’s head and now it’s in my head.” Bucky shakes his own head starting to cut the potatoes in half to fit in the food processor.

“Not every recipe is just x amount of cups and tablespoons,” you chide while assembling the food processor on his kitchen island.

“Blasphemy,” he mutters. You muffle your giggle but his super-soldier hearing doesn’t miss it. Setting the knife down he’s suddenly tickling you relentlessly on the side, peels of laughter falling out of your mouth uncontrollably.

“You think sassing me is hilarious huh?” Nodding your head in between your laughter you try to wiggle out of his grasp ending up with his chest to your back pushing you into the counter trapping you. You don’t stop wiggling though and while he continues this assault you feel something rather familiar pushing against your backend.

Pushing back against the growing erection he stops tickling and immediately his hands grip your hips to hold you in place.

“Now, now,” he growls in your ear, “we’ve got cooking to do before sunset.” Nipping your ear he lets go, returning to cut the potatoes in half.

You remain still for a moment longer, your brain misfiring at his rough voice. Oh man, you needed to finish these latkes.

Getting the food processor together you grate the potatoes and onions then drain them in a cheese towel. Keeping some of the juices you mix the Matzo meal, eggs and seasonings together then bring the potatoes and onions in.

“Why are you adding more?” Bucky asks as you pour in more Matzo meal. “It doesn’t feel right yet,” he glowers at your words.

“Doesn’t feel right? And what does that feel like?”

“Like a good mix of all the ingredients?” Bucky chuckles at your vague description watching you continue. “Can you heat up the oil?” Bucky nods at your request turning the burner on under the pan full of oil.

Finally when you feel good about the mixture and the oil is heated you grab a wooden spoon, scoop a small amount of the Latkes mixture in and flatten it with the palm of your hand. Slowly slip it into the heated oil.

The loud pops of the oil frying telling you it’s too hot, you turn the burner down a bit and hand Bucky the spoon. “You make the others, Let’s only do 4 at a time to make sure they all cook evenly.”

He takes the spoon and follows the same steps as you before presenting his spoon to you for approval. With an encouraging smile, you nod your head and he places it in the oil with the one you made. He makes two more and you take his place in front of the burner waiting to flip.

“How do you know when it’s time to flip?”

Bucky comes up behind you, his hands resting on the voluptuous flare of your hips, his chin on your shoulder watching the Latkes cook.

“You watch the browning on the outline,” Bucky hms.

“Thank you for showing me how to make these.”

He kisses your neck before going back to looking at the browning potatoes. Hand slide up your waist, cupping your breasts, skilled fingers finding your nipples to pinch. Your head dips back with a soft moan.

His lips rest on your earlobe, “Come on doll,” his breathy words push against your ear, “You gotta watch them,” he tweaks your nipples hard, you jerk paying attention to the pan. He ruts his pelvis into you, his growing arousal feeling deliciously hard against your soft back end.

“Don’t get too distracted or they’ll burn,” he whispers against your neck.

Suddenly he’s off you, leaving you feeling hot under the collar and growing dampness in your underwear. He was driving you inside with this hot and cold today.

Once the Latkes were all done, cooked to perfection, and cooling on the wire rack Bucky glanced at the kitchen clock. “Hey, doll when’s sunset tonight?”

Looking back at him as you stop adjusting the latkes on the wire rack you purse your lips trying to recall what time you read earlier today. “Uuh, I think around 5:20?”

A lecherous smile pulls on Bucky’s lips as he pushes you away from the cooling latkes and presses your back against the kitchen island. “Ah just enough time then,” he attacks your lips.

Catching you off guard you remain still before relaxing into his lips, his large hands framing your face to tilt your head slightly up. Bucky kisses trailing down your chin, hands sweeping down to pull the collar of your shirt exposing more skin for him to consume. Mouth trailing down to bite at the swell of your breast.

“Bucky,” you gasp out.

The passion he had been giving you small bursts of since coming over is unleashed. You wrap a leg around his waist, curling and pulling him flush against you. His hips grinding against you pushes your damp panties against you, a stuttered moan falls out your mouth.

He’s kissing you once more, hands unzipping and pulling your pants down your hips. Tugging on the fabric clinging to you and grunting into your mouth with the effort. His cool metal hand dips into your underwear and you coo at the sensation. Smooth metal grazes your soaked folds before slipping in gathering the slick pouring out you.

Bucky bits your bottom lip just as his fingers rub your clit, the dule sensation making your hips jerk forward and your head spin. He groans your name against your lips before flipping you around pressing your chest against the marble countertop.

Your hands flat on the surface, you push yourself up but his metal hand falls on the small of your back keeping you down. Trying to keep yourself up on your elbows, he allows it. His focus turns to pulling your panties past your hips, sure to keep your legs together with the restricting fabric as his cool metal digits caress your swollen folds.

“So wet for me,” he admires, voice rough with arousal as he watches your slick pooling down your folds onto your panties.

Instantly his hands are gone, hearing the rustle of fabric and a zipper behind you. Trying to turn your head but before you can get a look you feel the bulbous tip of his cock push against your folds, nudging your clit before slipping up to your entrance.

Bucky grasps your ass cheeks and pulls them apart, marveling at the way your wet hole opens just a fraction at the shift, enough for him to nudge the tip of his cock in. You rock up onto your tiptoes at the sensation, legs taut.

He pushes in and you fall flat on the countertop crying out, fingernails scraping against the unforgiving stone. The way his thick shaft pushes and pulls against your walls makes your spine tingle. Turning your head you rest your cheek on the cool marble, cooing and mewling as he slowly pulls back out and pushes back in at an almost glacial pace.

Bucky wants to take his time, feeling the way your walls flutter around him and how you gush out when he is all the way in. His balls become slippery with your slick, he’s rather sure your panties are ruined and soon your pants but he doesn’t care. His hands push your sweater up your back until he sees your bra clasp undoing it.

His warm hands slip under you, cupping your breasts squeezing and pinching the nipples. You moan, voice growing louder when he begins to rock his hips back and forth at a steady pace. Fingernails dig harder against the marble, you’re fairly certain you’ve broken at least one nail.

“Bucky,” you beg, and he leans over you, covering your body with his weight.

“What is it?” He taunts pushing his cock all the way in and remains there, “What do you need?” He drags out the last syllable the rumble in his chest felt on your back.

“You,” is all you can get out, but he knows. He knows you need him to be rough, to take you to remind you who you belong to, who he belongs to.

"You have me," he grunts into your hair. Using all of his remaining willpower to pull his cock from you until just the head remains. "All of me. I'm yours, doll." Bucky thrusts back in hard, the force sure to leave bruises on your hips from the counter but he can’t care about that right now. All he can focus on is you.

He stands back up, hands leaving our pebbled and sore nipples to rest on the cool marble he holds our hips. A snarl pulls from his lips at the sight of your swollen and redden folds. You always looked so good, but the sight of your body taking him in, well it did things to him.

Before you can beg again he’s pounding into you with renewed energy. His metal hand slapps against your bouncing ass check and you cry out. Your walls begin to flutter around him, feeling yourself start the fall.

And he knows.

Slipping a hand around he finds your engorged clit, with precision he begins to rub your clit in time with his thrusts. Each time he pushes in your clit is smashed against his fingers and when he pulls out those same fingers are rubbing frantically against it.

“Bu-” You try to get out the pulsing pleasure rolling along your body down to your center. “Buck-” is all you can make out before you fall. A choked sob follows with your eyes shut tight, balling your fists against the counter.

You feel weightless as the euphoria takes hold.

Your limp body rocks in tandem with his erratic salacious thrusts, Bucky chasing his own high as he grunts each time his cock is fully inside you. With one final push, his balls tighten and an animalistic groan signals his release.

Your eyes crack open, you make a soft ‘oh’ when you feel his cum shoot inside you. So warm and welcome. You're both panting when he leans over your body. Holding himself up by his elbows.

He pushes his face into your hair, inhaling deep and pushing out a shaky loud breath. Yeah cooking with you was his favorite thing to do. Hell doing anything with you left him in awe. Because you were his favorite thing in the world.

Once you’ve both caught your breath he stands up straight pulling from you watching as your combined juices pour from your abused hole further soiling your panties. He licks his lips before patting your ass with his flesh hand.

“Ready for some latkes?”

[bakubitch-minusultra]

Not Alone: Chapter Twelve

-> an apocalyptic series with bnha characters but without quirks because im the writer and i can do whatever the fuck i want :P

-> Word Count: 4.2k

-> Warnings: talk abt breeder farms, cooking/killing a bunny lol

-> Taglist: @5sosfckss @laudthingcat @zphilophobiaz

People pass by Y/n, becoming a sea of faces. All she could think was how she would get Mina back too. She would do anything to get Mina back. It seemed that it had become her centennial project. She wondered if she would ever just have the people who had become her new family all together, or would she die still looking for one.

“Where did they take her?” Y/n asked again. The huge boys hug and mess with each other’s hair. She wanted to shout but Bakugo saved her the trouble.

He looked around, “Where’s Mina?”

“Hunters got her two days ago. She went looking for Y/n and I heard her screaming at the edge of the field. I couldn’t run. They took her in a truck.”

“I’m so sorry Kirishima.”

He shook his head, “Y/n you went for food after you went for medicine to save me. None of this is your fault. We’ll get her back.” He looked at Bakugo and smiled. “I can’t believe you’re alive man.”

Bakugo ruffled Kirishima’s hair again, “You too shitty hair. You should have died a long time ago with your survival skills.”

Kirishima laughed, “Mina.”

“We need to get her back shitty hair.”

Kirishima nodded. Y/n couldn’t pretend that everything was warm and fuzzy.

She shoved him, “So how did you end up here? Why didn’t you stay at the farmhouse in the barn bunker?”

“I tried to go after them. I went over the hill and broke the branches like you told me. I knew you’d find me.” He shook his head at Bakugo. “She’s like a fucking terminator.”

Bakugo laughed, “I know.”

Kirishima fixed his hair, “Anyway, I came here yesterday. They all know you Bakugo.”

Bakugo shrugged, “I made friends at camp shitty hair.”

Y/n hated the way he called him shitty hair. She hated Bakugo in a horrid way. She wished he was at the breeder camp instead of Mina. Him and his girlfriend in the shorts. They have their mini reunion. She turned away and walked to the nearest small tent. She looked in the flap. A younger looking guy was asleep inside. Half his face was burnt. She walked from one small tent to the next, until she found one with a man with blond hair holding a pen and looking at a map that was spread across a table.

“Are you Monoma?” He nodded, but looked at Y/n suspiciously. “I need to know where the closest breeder camp is.”

He chuckled, “You aren’t thinking about volunteering are you? The food’s not that bad here.” She doesnt laugh, instead she looked at the map. She didn’t know how to read maps. She added it to the list of things her father should’ve taught her.

“My friend was taken. I need her back.”

He started laughing again, “What do you plan on doing?”

She looked up into his periwinkle blue eyes and stare him down, “I’m going to get her back.”

“Look, I get you’re upset but there is no getting them back. They go in and nine years later they get a nice house in the city. It’s not a baf gig. They get healthy food and a place to sleep. Your life here is harder.” She felt her face change. He put his hands up defensively, “Look we have bigger fish to fry than worry about one girl at a breeder farm.” He turned his back on her and looked at the wall of the tent where other maps were hung. She felt her fingers twitch. She wanted to pull an arrow. She left the tent disheartened and lost.

“Y/n where’d you go?”

She looked up at Bakugo and Kirishima walking toward her. She scrunched up her face and walked away from them both. She didn’t know how to be dramatic. She felt the need burning inside of her, but she didn’t physically know how to get angry without using her hands. She walked to a group of ladies who were standing around a fire.

She smiled sweetly and looked at the one who looked most like her mother did, “Hi.”

“Hi sweetie.” The rebellion people were nice.

“Do you know where the nearest breeder camp is?”

She frowned, “Yeah.” She looked over at a dark strawberry blonde who had a scar along her mouth, “Beth where was that camp that you all saw not far from here?”

“South east, over two small mountains and a ghost town. Used to be a place called Licoln there. Stay on the outskirts of that place.”

“Thanks so much.”

“You aren’t trying to go there, are you?”

Y/n shook her head, “No way. Just wanted to know where my friend went. Her nine years is almost up.”

The lady with the scar laughed bitterly, “Honey she aint coming back out here to shit in a ditch. She’ll get herself a nice place in the city. I hear they even got air conditioning again.”

A lady with a t-shirt with a big tongue on it laughed, “Oh girl, what I would do for air conditioning.” They all laughed and it made Y/n grin. She walked away from them and went back to the small tent. The man looked less than pleased to see that she was there.

“Really, you’re back again. Look I’m not sending a bunch of men to their death over some girl.”

“I’m not asking you for a thing. I just want to see the map.”

He held his arm out at the one on the table, “Have at it.” She looked at the compass on the map.

“Where are we?” He dropped a finger onto the map next to a blue line. She dragged her finger southeast to the place that said Licoln. She looked up at him, “Which way is south east from here?” He pointed to the back of the tent where the other maps were. He was blocking her view of them on purpose. “Thanks.” She started to walk in the direction he had told her.

Her quiver wasn’t very full. Normally she would make arrows once a month but she hadn’t had a chance in the last month. Nothing had been the way it would have been back at the cabin. She thought about the moment she stood at the door as Mina knocked outside of it. She remembered the regret. She saw Kirishima and Bakugo and started to walk faster. She didn’t know what to say, but running away from them seemed like a pretty good idea. Kirishima still has a limp, but they move quickly.

“Y/n wait up,” Kirishima shouted. She wanted to be alone. It figured the only boys she’s ever liked had to be friends. Her mom would have been proud. She too had a thing for friends.

Fingers bit into Y/n’s arm and spun her around.

Bakugo towered over her, “What are you doing?” He looked annoyed.

She pulled her arm away from him, “I’m going to find her.” She looked at Kirishima, “Stay here and get better. That leg isn’t going to heal with you walking around so much.” He looked hurt.

Bakugo grabbed her arm again, “Y/n we aren’t going to let you run off half cocked. We need a plan.” She felt angry, maybe it was because she liked them both or maybe it was because they’re not running after Mina, like she expected they would.

She glared at Kirishima, “When you fell in that holse she did the bravest thing I have ever seen anyone do. She told me that she didn’t care if I shot her but I had to come find you.”

He shook his head, “We need a plan.”

She pointed south, “There’s a three day hike, we can plan on the way.”

Bakugo’s grip on her arm tightened, “We’ll be down a mountain and in the woods alone with no resources when we find her. What plan can you come up with there?”

Y/n shook her head again, “I’ve made it this far without anyone.” She pulled her arm free and took a step back, “I don’t need either of you.” She felt something in her stomach. She should’ve grabbed food. She started her hike. She realized she not only had a plan but that she was starving. She heard their footsteps behind her.

“She’s really stubborn.” Kirishima tried to whisper, but Y/n could hear him.

“I noticed that. How’s the leg?” Y/n made a face but didn’t look back at them.

“Good. She did surgery on it. I don’t think I’ll ever win the Boston Marathon if it comes back in style.” Bakugo snorted, Y/n wanted to laugh, but she was pissed off.

“Mina been a handful?”

Kirishima laughed, “Oh my god. The year she started the road to womanhood was the beginning of the end. Oh my god it was so bad.”

Y/n felt her face flush with heat. She remembered getting her first period and cringed. She had thought she was dying for a few days. She had to read an encyclopedia on health in order to find the answers she had been looking for. She made rags and stayed indoors. She rubbed clary sage oil on her stomach for the cramping and put warm compresses on her stomach. It was the first thing she added to the list of things he should have told her about. Being twelve and alone in the forest was daunting. Bleeding every month for no reason was much worse.

She realized how far ahead of them she was when she came out of her daydream and couldn’t hear them. She looked back. They were laughing and walking like it was a stroll in the park. She glanced up in the trees to see the guard strategically placed. She knew they were still safe from the others but she couldn’t imagine laughing and joking and catching up the way they were.

She walked faster. She missed the silence and uncomplicated days of traveling with Hades. He would hunt and they would touch each other every now and again but neither of them needed to make a sound. She looked back at Kirishima and noticed the way he lumbered through the woods and let out a sigh. The bottom of the mountain led to a valley and she climbed a tree and sat on a sturdy branch.

“What do you see?”

“A highway. There’re cars on it, they’re burned.” It frightened Y/n. Scavengers were always nearest to the old remains. She stayed away from the remains.

“Do you see movement?”

She shook her head but narrowed her eyes to improve her vision. The infected had a way of not moving when you needed them to. The sun was going down and she wanted to scross the highway and be halfway up the next mountain before it’s completely dark. She climbed down the tree and tried not to look at either of the hulking men standing next to her.

She pulled an arrow and crouched low to the ground. She shut her mind off. She tried not to think when she was scared shitless.

She could hear Kirishima walking behind her, no doubt completely upright and picking his teeth with a piece of grass. Y/n decided to shoot him herself if he started to hum. The grass on the side of the highway was long. As she slipped through it the wind played with it, making it whisper. The birds here were not the kind who warn you of prey, they were scavengers. They wanted you to die.

The long grass swayed and played with her hair. Her heart was beating faster when her foot touched the gravel on the side of the highway.

She looked back at Bakugo and he nods. Kirishima’s lips curled into a smile. She couldn’t help but want to smile with him. She saw herself back at the cabin for the briefest of seconds. Images of her and him laying on the couch filled her mind. She smiled remembering the way they tried not to get caught staring at each other.

Her mind snapped back.

She closed her eyes and listened to the wind. There was no sound. She climbed out of the huge ditch and walked quickly and silently up onto the broken asphalt. It had started to crack from the weather and lack of care. Where her foot stepped first it crumbled. Her eyes scanned every inch of the deserted highway. Burned out cars sat staggered along the long straight road. The people caught in the traffic jams when the tidal waves were coming or the bombs were dropping to contain the sick. They fled from their vehicles. They left everything and ran. She remembered running.

She shook her head back to focusing. She slipped between an old burnt SUV and the skeleton of a small car. The hood of the car was lifted and the battery was gone. Not uncommon.

“Which way?” Kirishima asked louder than Y/n would’ve liked.

“Shhhh.”

The gravel on the other side was a welcomed sight. When her feet touched the grass she broke into a run. The bushes hit her in the face when she entered the forest. She ran until shesaw the tree she wanted. She climbed it and sat with her arrow pulled and at the ready. She scanned the highway and the ditch vigorously.

Kirishima was huffing and panting while he rested below the tree.

“Oh man you can run. Holy shit. I thought your leg was hurt. Whoa.”

“Kirishima.” Bakugo was back to being Business Bakugo. There was no fun with him, only survival. She didn’t take her eyes off the road. Nothing moved. She was about to climb down but she waited one more second. She saw the bushes across the move and pulled the arrow tighter. It looked like an animal but she couldn’t see clearly.

“I see something,” she said in a low voice.

“What?”

“Animal. Dog maybe.”

“Shit.” She looked down through the thick branches at Bakugo’s;ook and raised an eyebrow. “Trackers.”

He doesn’t finish the sentence and her eyes scanned across the highway again. The animal was gone. Nothing moved. She climbed down fast and turned to face the dense woods.

“That way.”

Kirishima looked pained, “Seriously? We’re going to run some more?”

She looked at him and nodded, “Think about what it’s like for Mina now. She’s terrified. She thinks the breeder camps are what we all think. She is waiting for her turn no doubt.”

He flinched, “Jesus Y/n. Easy on the visuals. She’s my friend for christ’s sake. I’m not bitching, my leg is just killing me.”

Y/n glared, “Is it bleeding?”

“No but it hurts.”

“Climb the tree and wait for us,” She handed him a water bottle from her belt. But Kirishima shook his head and looked at Bakugo who’s face was stoic

“Bakugo I’m not staying.”

Bakugo licked his lips and thought for a second, “You can’t hold us up.”

Kirishima rolled his eyes and sighed, “Let’s just go.”

Y/n held the water bottle out for one more second but he didn’t take her up on the offer. She turned and started to run. Her leg was sore and her stomach was empty. In her haste she never stocked up. Mina had been hard on her rules.

When the sun had started to set they were where Y/n wanted to be. Kirishima hadn’t complained and Bakugo was starting a small fire. She took her bow and found a nice quiet spot to sit and wait for something to make a sound.

The silence of the woods was alarming. She had never been in the woods here. She was exhausted but she stayed focused.

She heard the crunch of a stick and raised her arrow in the direction she heard it in. A large hare hopped over a branch and sniffed the wind. It’s ears twitched and Y/n knew that it had smelled her. She released the arrow, anticipating the hop it would do. The arrow slices through the neck of the rabbit. It tried to move for a second and then stopped. She gutted the hare where she killed it. She never brought it back with its guts. Leaving guts outside the cabin proved to be a mistake. She skinned it quickly with the skinning knife she kept and left the animal’sremains and carried the carcass to the fire.

She heard the cracking of wood when she got close. Bakugo was standing over the fire and Kirishima was sitting on a log next to him.

“So is there something between you two?” Bakugo asked but didn’t move his face.

Kirishima shrugged, “I don’t know. She’s a tough one to get to know. We kissed but it was a mistake.”

Bakugo looked at him and smiled, “I hear that. You remember the Laura Croft movies where Angelina Jolie was all hot and quiet but would kill anything that moved?”

Kirishima laughed, “Yeah. Exactly. Jesus, give her some pouty lips and bam. Laura Croft.”

Y/n felt her insides trembling. She didn’t remember the movies they were talking about. She couldn’t help but want to cry.

Bakugo laughed and shook his head, “But what a bitch though hey.”

She grabbed a rock from where she was standing and tossed it back a few yards. They couldn’t see her if she crouched.

“She’s back. Manners.” Bakugo spoke low and started poking the fire. She stood and walked from the bushes. She just wanted to throw the stupid hare down and leave them there, but her stomach was growling. She was exhausted. She would stay as long as it would take to eat and then she would be sleeping in a tree. Maybe if she was lucky she would fall in her sleep and wake up in hell.

Bakugo held out a small sack, “I have some potatoes from the camp and tinfoil.”

She nodded, “Okay.” She felt awkward. Kissing both of them was obviously bad, but having them call her a bitch after they kissed her was awful. Having Kirishima say it was a mistake was killing her. She couldn’t look him in the eyes. She walked around him and found a good stick to make a spit with.

She searched the ground around the fire until she found a good branch. She stripped the small branches and leaves from it. She smirked and shoved the stick into the open neck. She was imagining it was one of them.

“You’re a scary little thing.” She frowned at Kirishima who was watching her get the hare on the spit. “It’s a compliment.” She didn’t stop frowning. It didn’t feel like a complement. Even if it was, it wouldn’t stop the pain of the kiss being a mistake.

She built a spit with rocks and branches and twine from her backpack. Bakugo sliced the potatoes and laid them in the tinfoil. He placed them high on a rock with a flat surface in the fires circle of rocks.

Bakugo glanced at her, “So what’s to plan?”

“Get captured and free us both.” He laughed at Y/n. “I can do it.”

He shook his head, “I know you can, it's just funny that’s all. You’re willing to sacrifice yourself to save my friend?”

“She’s the only person I’ve met that I liked. Genuinely.” It was a stab at them both. Fuck them.

He raised his eyebrows, “Fair enough.” He looked hurt. The image of the girl in the short shorts didn’t leave her mind easily.

Kirishima looked hurt, “What am I, chopped liver?” Y/n smiled. She hated that she was smiling. She hated that he made her smile so easily. He grinned at her and she remembered his hands on her. She couldn’t stop staring at his lips. It made her feel sick.

Bakugo cleared his throat, “So how’ll you get captured?”

She shrugged, “Just act lost near the area.” She glanced at Kirishima who was still staring at her. His grin hadn’t left his face. She dug her stick in the dirt and drew a circle. She hit a rock and dirt went flying up at Kirishima’s face on his stump.

She laughed as he wipped his face clean, “Thanks.”

Bakugo laughed, “Stop being a baby.”

Kirishima shook the dirt out of his hair, “You did that on purpose.”

She put her hands up with the stick in them, “I didn’t, I swear.” She wish she had.

“I don’t think you shouldgo there, Y/n.”

She dug with the stick again, “I have to.” She didn’t say that she led them straight to Mina. She doesn’t say that it was all her fault. She didn’t have to. They all knew it was true. Bakugo turned the hare on the spit slowly. The smells were starting to make her stomach make noises she hadn’t heard since before she found the cabin.

Bakugo looked around, “When you get captured you need a way out.” He got up from the fire and muttered, “Kiri turn the hare.” He went to a tree and ripped off a branch. He sat next to Y/n on the log. The warmth of his body was touching her and it was setting her nerves on fire.

He bent down and drew a rectangle. In each of the corners he made small boxes, “There is a section that is for the women who are pregnant or about to be impregnated. This is probably where you'll go. Then this wing is for the younger girl who can't have babies yet. This is for the women with the babies. This is where the little girls are kept. Girls they raise to be breeders." He moved the stick to the other side and made a smaller box, "This is where the men are, if there are any men. Sometimes they don’t have any there." He cleared his throat nervously and drew an X in the middle but off to one side, "This is the fertility lab. This is where the lab coats and doctors and cleaners all stay. This is your only chance. They will have a dump somewhere near the clinic. The garbage goes every few days."

She frowned at him but Kirishima asked the question burning in her mind before she could, “Dude how do you know so much about the breeder farmer?”

Bakugo blushed in the firelight, “I lived there for a time.”

Kirishima raised an eyebrow, “As a cleaner or a doctor?” He laughed like he knew the answer.

Bakugo laughed, “I wish.”

Kirishim shook his head, “Nasty bro. Nasty.”

Y/n felt lost. She looked blankly at them both. Bakugo’s face looked like it was on fire.

“I was forced to um… donate.” Y/n didn’t understand what they were talking about.”

Kirishima started to make an odd motion with his fist, “He had to jerk his chiken for the big men.” She didn’t know what that meant but she nodded before they explained. Bakugo looked at her face and laughed.

Kirishima turned the hare, “So how many little Bakugo’s are running around?” Y/n felt her stomach drop. She understood. She felt judgment burn its way across her face.

“I wasn’t exactly in on the plans.”

Kirishima poked the hare, “How was life there?”

Bakugo snorted, “Thinking about signing up?”

Kirishima looked up, “Hey if there are three square meals a day and I get all the, um, reading material I need to deliver the goods, I’m in.”

The humor fell from Bakugo’s face. He almost twitched when he shook his head, “No. No three meals and material shitty hair. It’s more like milking a cow.”

Kirishima ignored the terror on his friend's face and grinned ear to ear, “Are there milk maids?”

Bakugo nodded, “Not the kind you’re thinking of. Mine was a guy named Dr. Stevie.”

Kirishima gagged, “Oh shit never mind.”

Bakugo looked down at the drawing again and chuckled, but Y/n could tell he was haunted by it.

“There’s no human contact Kirishima. It’s all done by machines, the girls and the boys. Anyway this section here has the surgeon’s clothes and boots. Change and climb into the garbage bin in the morning on a Tuesday or a Thursday or a Saturuday. The garbage comes around lunch and the best chance you have at not being noticed is then. They’ll be looking for you after lunch.”

Y/n felt sick thinking about the plan. She was not as strong as the look on her face suggests she is.

“I think it’s done,” Kirishima poked the hare.

Y/n shook her head, “Always over cook wild animals.”

Bakugo nudged her with his body, almost playfully, “You sure about this?”

She nodded and reached into the flames to turn the potatoes. The fire licked at her skin but she ignored it. It hurt. It was a warning of pain to come if she continued to stick her hands in the fire. Sitting between two men she couldn’t help but feel like it was appropriate.

[aster-aspera]

Just a short chapter I wrote for new year.

CW: child abandonment, homelessness

Pairings: romantic/platonic DLAMP, romantic anxceit

Happy New Year everyone, I hope you have a great day/night and I hope 2021 brings everyone better tidings <3

Masterpost

Janus ignored the urge to straighten his bowtie before walking up the small path that led to the house. As much as he wished he could make some final adjustments to his look, his hands were currently full, with flowers on one side and his cane on the other. He figured dropping either to fiddle with his bowtie would be a rather ridiculous look.

It would be fine, he told himself. It was just a small celebration at their house, it didn't matter how he looked. They loved him, they wouldn’t judge him.

And oh, those words. They loved him.

The thought made him simultaneously want to leap with happiness and run for the hills as fast as he could. It was so terrifyingly new and at the same time it felt so comfortably familiar. The phone calls that lasted way longer than they should. The bad days when all of them came over and baked him bread. The banter over the comms when he was too tired to join in on patrol. They loved him.

A raven haired head popping itself out the door distracted him from his brooding.

“Dude, are you just gonna spend the whole evening standing in our garden or are you gonna come in?” Virgil asked.

“I was just admiring the flowers,” Janus drawled.

Virgil raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

“Come in, everyone’s waiting for you.”

He stepped inside and handed Virgil the flowers.

“Aww, are those for us? How sweet,” Virgil cooed.

Janus definitely didn’t blush. “It’s polite.”

“It’s romantic,” Virgil teased.

“Virgil,” Janus sighed, trying to sound exasperated but only managing to sound fond.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop. Come on, I need to start frying the gulab jamun.”

“You’re making gulab jamun?” Janus asked, pleasantly surprised. They were apparently a famed treat in this household.

“Yeah,” Virgil stopped when he walked into Roman.

“And now he shows up,” Virgil snarked “Here, go put these in a vase, I have dessert to attend to.” He shoved the flowers into Roman’s hands and quickly disappeared into the kitchen.

Roman beamed at Janus. 

“Hello darling,” He purred “You look absolutely stunning.”

“You are not allowed to use that nickname, it’s mine, I licensed it,” Janus protested.

“Oh, but I just love the way it flusters you, darling.” 

Janus could feel the heat creeping all the way from under his collar up to his cheeks. Roman was definitely getting back at him for all the times Janus had flustered him in costume.

“Roman, stop,” Janus sighed as he gently pushed his shoulder.

Roman just chuckled and led him into the living room, where Logan was arranging some snacks.

“Guess who arrived!” Roman announced to the entire house.

Logan looked over and smiled brightly.

“Hello Janus, you look good.”

“As do you,” Janus complimented as he walked over to shake his hand. Logan ignored the proffered hand and pulled him into a hug.

Well, okay. He hadn’t seen that one coming.

Of all four of them, Logan was the least keen on physical contact. Patton and Roman were always going in for surprise hugs and even Virgil would frequently rest his head on Janus’s shoulder. But Janus had only ever seen Logan hug his boyfriends. And that one memorable time when Janus had nearly drowned and Logan had cuddled him to keep him warm, but he really prefered not to think about that.

“Will you be joining us for patrol?” Logan asked when he pulled away.

“No, not today.” Janus lifted his cane a bit to illustrate his point.

Logan nodded understandingly. “We’ll be happy to have you on comms for tonight.”

Janus made his way into the kitchen, where Patton was sliding something into the oven as Roman bothered him.

“You can’t bake something at 1800 degrees, Roman, that’s not how baking works.” Patton sighed. He noticed Janus entering the kitchen and beamed at him.

“Dee!” Patton smiled at him. “I’m so happy you’re here. Food’s nearly ready. ”

“Why not? 10 minutes at 180 degrees equals 1 minute at 1800 degrees. That’s how math works.” Roman interjected.

“Well, it’s not how ovens work,” Virgil groaned, from where he was bent over the frying pan, a little closer to the hot oil than was probably safe.

“If you guys would just listen to me, food would be ready in a minute,” Roman sighed.

“Virgil’s right, sweetie, that’s not how ovens work,” Patton said.

Virgil stuck his tongue out.

“Very mature,” Janus laughed.

Eventually, when all the food had been baked at an acceptable temperature, they gathered around the table.

“So, does anyone have any new year’s resolutions?” Patton asked them.

“New year’s resolutions are just a festive way of lying to yourself. Nobody actually keeps them,” Janus said.

“See! He gets it,” Virgil said triumphantly.

“Come on,” Patton pleaded, “humour me.” 

Virgil sighed and rolled his eyes, but Janus could see the fondness in them.

“Well, my new year’s resolution is to take more time to read books I’ve been meaning to read. I have a whole pile of interesting paperbacks,” Logan went first.

“Of course you would choose something so nerdy,” Roman teased, “My resolution is to spend as much time as possible with you, my loves,” He swept a grand gesture over the room and Janus tried not to think about how he was somehow included in that, “and I vow to give you all the kisses and hugs you deserve.”

“Well, next year I resolve to make better bad decisions and to remember to write 2021 instead of 2020,” Patton chimed in with a bright smile, “but in all seriousness, I hope to spend more time writing next year and maybe sign up for some art classes.”

“That’s a great idea, Pat, I might join you for those,” Virgil said.

“See, now you have some new year’s resolutions too.”

“What about you, Janus?” Logan questioned.

“Well, I guess if I have to, I resolve not to kill as many people this year,” He answered sarcastically.

Patton shot him a look. “Try again.”

“Fine,” Janus sighed, “I resolve to read more books, I guess.”

“Splendid resolutions, my dear lord of the lies,” Roman praised.

“Are we going to eat now? We have to patrol in a few hours,” Virgil complained.

“As always, you really have your priorities sorted, Virgil,” Logan said teasingly.

Logan shrugged himself into his costume with precise movements and fastened the cloak at his neck.

“You know, I really don’t get the cloak. Isn’t it awfully impractical?” Janus asked him from where he was draped against the door frame.

“Maybe, but I distinctly remember it coming in handy when you nearly died of hypothermia. How would people say it? It saved you ass?” Logan answered smugly.

“That was one time, you can’t tell me you wear a ridiculous cape,”

“Cloak.”

“Whatever, because someone might fall into the harbour. How often does that even happen?”

“More than you’d think. Also, Batman wears a cloak.”

“Batman is designed by nerds who don’t even know how to throw a punch, it’s a wonder you haven’t tripped over it yet when vaulting over rooftops.”

“Unlike some people who don’t need a cloak to trip when vaulting over rooftops?” Logan asked, voice full of faux innocence.

Janus growled exasperatedly and punched his arm, in the friendly way.

“As much as I love hearing you two bicker, we do need to start patrol,” Roman interrupted.

“Bye, Dee!” Patton hugged him and gave him a quick kiss on the nose before bustling out the door. 

Roman and Logan followed in quick succession, pressing kisses to his cheek and forehead. They sauntered out of the room, leaving him reeling with the ease they had done that. 

Virgil smirked up at him from where he was sitting at the computer, looking over some police reports. 

“What?” Janus asked him.

“Nothing,” Virgil replied with a shit eating grin, “You just look awfully cute when you blush.” 

“I’m not cute,” Janus snarled.

“Whatever you say,” Virgil replied as he walked past him. He stopped for a moment, staring into Janus’s eyes. His look didn’t bode well for Janus. He placed a gentle hand on the back of Janus’s neck and then pulled him close. 

“Is this okay?” He asked, his eyes drifting to Janus’s lips.

“Very,” Janus managed, his voice a little rough.

Virgil leaned forward and pressed a soft but insistent kiss on his lips. Janus felt himself leaning into it, the sweet taste of honey and saffron overwhelming his senses.

After what felt like a mere fraction of a second, Virgil pulled away. Janus made a small noise of protest and Virgil chuckled.

“Later,” He promised, “I have to go patrol now.”

He walked out the room, leaving Janus feeling lightheaded and wondering if the others were as good at kissing as Virgil. He sincerely hoped so.

~

Patrol was surprisingly uneventful. Generally, the statistics indicated there was a rise in crime around the holiday period. New year itself was always quite a hazardous day, with the large crowd of people out at late hours and the fireworks masking any sounds that could give you away. 

Yet this year, Logan had found himself inexplicably looking out to the new year. Maybe it was the fact that a certain former villain had enthusiastically agreed to come over and celebrate.

Whatever the reason, the city had decided to grace them with a calm night and Logan sat on a rooftop ledge, watching Virgil teach Patton a back handspring on the adjoining rooftop.

“Can you do one of those?” Janus asked him over the comms as they watched Patton fall onto his back for the third time.

“They’re not too hard.”

“That doesn’t answer the question, nerd,” Roman chimed into the conversation from where he was checking out an alleyway somewhere.

“I’m sure I could manage it,” Logan sighed.

“Like Patton’s managing this one?” Virgil quipped as Patton landed on the ground once more. Logan was incredibly grateful for the shock absorbent breastplate he wore.

“I nearly got that one!” 

“Sure, pat.”

“Shit,” He heard Roman hiss through the comms.

“What?” Janus’s voice was immediately on edge and Logan heard the familiar clicking of keys, telling him Janus was probably pulling up the live feed from Roman’s mask.

“Oh,” He said.

“What’s going on?” Patton asked, righting himself from the wet rooftop.

“A kid,” Roman gasped.

Logan felt his heart clench. 

“Is he hurt?” Virgil asked.

“No, not as far as we can see, but he does look malnourished,” Janus explained.

Logan got up and quickly swung down from the rooftop, the others right behind him.

They entered the alleyway, where Roman was crouched in the corner, whispering quietly.

He looked up and gestured for them to stay back. They obliged, Patton sitting down against a wall as Virgil walked a bit further back to make sure no one would enter the small street.

Logan leant against a dumpster bin, trying not to look too threatening.

“It’s alright, we won’t hurt you. Could you just tell me your name?” Roman asked gently.

“My mom told me never to give a stranger my name,” The kid deadpanned.

Logan smiled, if the kid was quipping back, he couldn’t be in too bad a shape.

“Touché” Roman chuckled, “you can call me prince.” 

“Like the singer?” The kid asked with an audible chuckle.

“No,” Roman sighed and Logan heard Patton giggle.

“Well, you probably should have chosen a better name then.”

“Probably,” Roman said, “At least give me something I can call you, if you’re not gonna tell me your name.”

The kid thought for a moment. “Fine,” he drawled, “You can call me J.”

“Ok, well J, that corner doesn’t look all that comfortable, if you would come with us, I’m sure we could find you more suitable lodgings.”

“No!” J snapped, fear colouring his voice.

“Why not?” Roman asked, clearly taken aback.

“You’ll just stick me in the system and... they don’t want me there.” J choked up a bit and Logan saw Patton’s eyes fill with sympathy.

“No, we won’t,” Roman promised.

“Oh yeah? What’re you gonna do with me then? Nobody wants some abandoned street rat.” J sighed bitterly. Logan ached at how he seemed to have given up any hope of someone caring for him. The poor kid had clearly been through too much in his life.

“Do you really have no one left?” Roman asked.

“Do you think I’d be sleeping on the streets if someone still cared about me?”

Roman looked back at them helplessly.

“Isn’t there anywhere he could stay on short notice?” Virgil asked.

“I have people,” Janus interjected quietly.

“Dee, no!” Patton exclaimed, “we’re not going to drop some kid off with those thugs you work with.”

“Not like that,” Janus sighed and Logan could almost see him pinching the bridge of his nose, “I know someone who works for me who’s really good with kids. He and his partner have fostered kids before. I think they could help him.”

“Really? You think he’d just be okay with it if we rolled up with a kid?”

“I’d have to discuss it with him first, but I’m certain we can find a home for J, if not with this guy, we’ll definitely find someone else.”

“I could ask my moms,” Patton conceded,” I don’t think they’re up for another kid, but they might know someone who wants to take care of him.”

“And what for tonight? We can’t really show up at someone’s house and just drop him off.” Virgil said.

“Take him to our home,” Logan suggested.

“Are you crazy? That’s a huge security risk,” Virgil burst out.

“We can’t just leave him in the cold to freeze,” Patton protested.

“I have a safe house near where you are, just take him there,” Janus interjected.

“Is that settled then?” Roman asked them from where he was still crouched in the corner, the annoyance clear in his voice.

“Yeah, I think so,” Patton replied.

“Okay kid, let's get moving. We’re taking you to a safehouse near here,” Roman told him.

“Did you explain everything to him?” Logan asked, he really hadn’t heard Roman say anything.

“Of course, you guys were too busy bickering to notice.”

J still regarded them warily and Logan was vaguely worried he was going to bolt the moment they got out of the alleyway.

“Hey,” Logan said, trying not to sound too awkward, “we’re not just going to abandon you to the system. We're heroes and that means we’ll find a way to help anyone.”

J just looked up at him with an unimpressed expression. “Right.” He shouldered past Logan, heading to where Virgil was waiting.

Patton quickly caught up to them, probably because Virgil was looking at the kid like he wanted to flee to the nearest rooftop.

“So you’re really not gonna tell us your name?”

“No.”

“You guys want me to head to the safe house too?” Janus asked, ignoring their chatter.

“We’d love that,” Roman beamed, “We might even be just in time for the new year.”

They got J settled on the ratty couch in the squalid safe house. It wasn’t a terrible safe house, it was actually quite clean. It just clearly wasn’t used for much except the occasional emergency.

Janus arrived quickly, dropping a bag filled with what Logan presumed was food.

J froze when he saw Janus. “Deceit?” He asked and Logan felt his stomach plummet. Of course the kid would be afraid, they had trapped him in a small space together with the city’s most notorious crime lord. It didn’t matter that Janus had never and would never harm a child, his reputation was terrifying enough.

But inexplicably, the kid’s shoulders relaxed and he seemed moderately more at ease.

“You know, most people don’t look so at ease in my presence,” Janus said, clearly also puzzled by the reaction.

J shrugged. “You’re not that bad, you’ve helped a lot of my friends, gave them jobs and places to stay. You do more for the street kids of this city than these heroes.”

Roman gasped in mock offence. Logan shrugged. It made sense, they didn’t have the resources or connections to help kids like J, but Janus had been putting an effort into helping the worst off in their city for years. It seemed his efforts hadn’t gone as unnoticed as they had previously assumed.

Janus grinned at them, his expression smug and then grabbed something from the bag. 

“Here,” He held out a soft sweater, “this is for you, it would be a shame if we went through all the trouble of getting you here and then you died from hypothermia.”

“You could just invest in a space heater for this place,” Virgil complained.

“Sure, because this space is used so often. It definitely isn’t a waste of money to purchase heaters for all those safe houses I barely use,” Janus snarked.

J ignored their bickering and sauntered over to the window, pulling the sweater over his head.

“Hey, guys,” Patton interrupted, “I think it’s time.”

Logan looked at the time on the corner of his display. He was right, the clock told him there was only one minute left of this year.

They all gathered round the window, looking out over the city.

“To new beginnings,” Patton announced.

“To new beginnings,” They all replied. J just rolled his eyes.

Logan felt Patton clutch his arm and Janus loop an arm around his waist as bright fireworks exploded over the city skyline. He looked over at his friends, how they stood gathered together, their faces awash with the colours of the fireworks. 

And he looked at J, the young kid who was staring at the fireworks as if they were something magical, his hands tangled in the sleeves of his sweater. 

Logan promised himself he would do everything to get him a good home, he deserved so much more than the world had given him.

New beginnings, it was a fitting sentiment.

[bigolbadblog]

What is your favourite food to make? Or a dream dish to make.

I LOVE making dumplings. I rarely get to do it bc it's so time-intensive, but when I do, I always make enough to share and have some to freeze for later.

My go-to is pierogies. They were the first dumplings I learned how to make (about two years ago now? wow), and I love the connection I feel with my ancestors when I make them. Crimping them closed with a fork and seeing my artistry when they're done is soooo satisfying, as is seeing the massive pierogi pile at the end of the day. They're also incredibly versatile- side dish, main course, even dessert pierogi!

At this point, it's become a personal tradition for me to take the last bit of pierogi dough and just go crazy go stupid with it- these experiments have included pb&j pierogi (do not recommend), aged marshmallow pierogi (better than you would expect), and my cat's wet food in a pierogi (obviously NOT something you should give your cat on a regular basis, but I think on very special occasions cats can have little a pierogi, as a treat. Anyways, he cried until I cut it up for him). Would my ancestors smile upon me for this part? I don't know, but not everything's gotta be about them. I dream of one day putting ice cream into a pierogi, but that's going to take a LOT of creative problem-solving.

There's also a lot of versatility in how you finish pierogies. You can do them plain boiled if you want less hassle, or you can fry them up in butter when you're done. For dessert pierogi, I lovvvve adding a bit of turbinado sugar to the frying pan to caramelize on the shell, but I've also tried giving them an egg wash, dunking them in cinnamon sugar, and baking them in the oven (not QUITE the same level of mind-blowing deliciousness as frying with sugar, imo, but it's still really good, and definitely a lot less work for doing larger batches and for cleaning up afterwards). My favorite way I've ever done savory pierogies was- with my old housemates, we had bacon pretty frequently, and we'd always tip the bacon grease into a mason jar we kept in the fridge to save for later. Kinda gross-looking, I will not lie, but damn if that shit wasn't fantastic for cooking brussels sprouts and frying up pierogies. With my current housemates, we barely ever cook bacon, and while I honestly don't miss the bacon itself all that much, I could cry for some bacon-fried pierogi right now, lol.

Anyways! Ravioli are also fun to make. I love rolling the pasta dough through the machine. They're not as crazy versatile as pierogi, but all the different options for saucing them help make up for that. I'm not too proud to use the good storebought stuff, especially if we're eating ravioli the same day I'm making ravioli (shit gets tiring! lol), or it's also super good to just toss fresh ravioli with some olive oil and a bit of grated parmesan and black pepper. But if we're just taking already-made ravioli out of the freezer, I have a roast eggplant pasta sauce recipe that is truly the bomb dot com.

Pierogi and ravioli are actually the only two filled dumplings I've made so far, but I'm really hoping to expand my range! Last time I was at the library, I saw a comic book style cookbook for various Asian dumplings, which looked really interesting- I almost checked it out, but library cookbooks make me so nervous, y'know? Like what if I get something on it... I guess I could just make copies of the pages I want and cook with those, that'd be smart.

So maybe that will be my next adventure! But it might have to wait a little while... a lot of dumpling-making involves boiling a lot of water, and it has been too hot for that kind of nonsense by me lately. But when dumpling weather comes again, I will be READY!

EDIT: I found the cookbook I was talking about! It's Let's Make Dumplings!, by Hugh Amano and Sarah Becan.

[inbox open!]

[translations-by-aiimee]

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 34

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 34

The early morning sunlight shone diagonally into the room, casting a bright yellow glare onto the back of his eyelids. Lin Yan ripped off the blanket. He rolled out of bed in a daze, but his legs gave out and he fell. He sat on the bedside, taking deep breaths.

His whole body hurt like it had been run over by a cart. Every muscle was screaming. Lin Yan shook his head in an attempt to get rid of the hangover dizziness, tugging at the blanket that had half-fallen down. The place where Xiao Yu had slept was already empty, and a shallow depression in the bed reminded him of the absurdity of last night's drinking.

Lin Yan roughly tapped his temple. For the first time, he wanted to wipe away his drunken memory but the more he tried to forget, the more sober he became. Even the ghost's watching gaze was still present in his mind. His velvety black eyes looked lost while he whispered his name and slammed into him. It was like his body was still pressed against him, their hearts intertwining as one.

He slept with someone he has to spend 24 hours a day with. How is this going to end?

Idiot, Lin Yan cursed. He put on a long T-shirt meant for playing basketball and walked towards the wall. When he heard Xiao Yu calling him, Lin Yan didn't even have the courage to turn around and answer him. He stumbled into the bathroom with his head down and locked the door behind him.

The person looking back at him in the mirror had red eyes, swollen cheeks, and a series of blue and purple hickeys that stretched from the bottom of his neck to his collarbone. Lin Yan tugged the collar of his T-shirt down. When he saw the miserable state of his chest, he hastily turned his head. He turned on the shower to wash his body. The water rained onto his face. Everything he did, and didn't, want to see blurred. The sensitive parts of his body were stimulated by the hot water, causing the corner of Lin Yan's mouth to twitch in discomfort. Still gritting his teeth, he roughly scrubbed his body.

He couldn't wait for this layer of skin to eventually flake off.

Lin Yan dried his hair and wiped a hand across the foggy mirror. It still showed a beautiful and clean face. The stand-up collar T-shirt just covered the marks on the neck. Lin Yan propped himself up on the sink and smiled miserably at the man in the mirror.

Compared to love, carnal desire is much simpler. A meal, a bottle of wine, and anything can happen. You don’t even need to take off your clothes. Do the deed, forget about it, take a shower and continue on like nothing happened. Who needs to bring up the unpleasantness of last night anyway?

He can't succumb to a paranoid ghost. The street was full of decent people. Who knows what animal opened its thighs last night, and which corner it will live in the next night?

The tinkling sound of cups and plates came from the kitchen and passed through the messy living room. The moment the sliding door opened, Lin Yan was stunned by the sight in front of him, and he didn't move for a long time.

The light golden sunlight fell on the ground. The suave gentleman with messy sideburns and a pair of slender eyebrows carefully rinsed a frozen fish under the tap. Lin Yan bought it a few days ago and threw it in the freezer and forgot to take it out. It was freezer burnt. The fish's eyes were covered with a layer of frost, its mouth wide open, and the head that peeked out from his hands was a bit dull. The saucepan was placed on the burner, and the water was almost at a boil. Several pieces of ginger and green onions were diced into various-sized pieces on the chopping board. He had forgotten to peel the ginger, the clueless blockhead.

Hearing the movement at the door, Xiao Yu turned his head. A smile was hidden in his eyes, and the corners of his mouth were softly curved upwards: "You're awake. You're not going to sleep some more?"

". . . I'm too nauseous to sleep." Lin Yan's face burned. Avoiding his eyes, he walked over to turn off the tap. "What are you doing with this thing? Are you hungry?"

It took everything in him to pretend to stay calm: "I thought you didn't need to eat."

"I wanted to make breakfast for you." Xiao Yu pointed to the fish in the sink. "It's too frozen."

"You need to defrost it in the microwave, so it won't be melted in one day." Lin Yan glanced at the scattered green onion and ginger on the chopping board. "Besides, no one makes fish this early in the morning. It's too heavy."

Xiao Yu stood still in front of the sink, awkwardly holding the fish's tail: ". . . This is all I know how to make."

Lin Yan took out a frying pan and moved the saucepan off the burner: "I can't eat this stuff with an upset stomach. Don't worry about it. I'll just cook something myself to eat."

"What do you want to eat? Let me try." Xiao Yu said as he went to look through the refrigerator. He had just opened it slightly before Lin Yan shut it, his voice unconsciously raised: "I said don't worry about it. Don't act like this is your house. Look at what my living room already looks like. Who knows what might happen to the kitchen later on. Young Master Xiao has probably never had to lift a finger in his life. I don't need your help."

When he spoke, he unconsciously put more emphasis on the 'my', deliberately excluding him, leaving no room for argument.

A one-night stand or something seemed too far-fetched for him, but he couldn't have sex and expect to now be fully devoted to each other. The person opposite him was stunned. His eyes, full of expectation, darkened. He was a bit at a loss holding the fish, as if he had done something wrong, and didn't know what to do.

Lin Yan didn't dare to look at him. He struggled to take out the eggs and milk from the refrigerator. He poured the oil into the frying pan and cracked open the eggs with two clicks. Once he turned around, Xiao Yu was still standing in the same spot, the frozen fish turning his fingers red. He wasn't going to leave or stay. He lowered his eyes and glanced back at him occasionally as if he was afraid of getting in trouble.

Lin Yan didn't say anything. He took out a spatula and flipped the fried egg over. The pain in his back was still terrible. Every step he took was torturous. The ghost noticed his unnatural stance. After standing behind him for a while, he hesitantly put down the fish. He wrapped himself around him in an attempt at a comforting hug. He put his chin on Lin Yan's shoulder. He felt like a mass of cold air like he had forgotten to close the refrigerator door.

"Does it hurt a lot?" Xiao Yu's tone was softer than ever before. "I'll be gentler next time."

Lin Yan took a deep breath. Xiao Yu's touch brought back the memories of last night. He had fully submitted himself to the ghost. The uncontrollable debauchery and the sense of shame of being exposed on the spot made him antsy. He interrupted him, expressionless: "There won't be a next time. I was drunk last night. Let's pretend it never happened. What's done is done, okay?"

The person behind him trembled, and the arms around him loosened.

Lin Yan couldn't bear it and concealed it by fiddling with the fried egg in the pan: "You can't help with this. Find me some nausea medicine. It's in the bedroom drawer."

Xiao Yu pondered for a moment, then asked him in a low voice: "What does the nausea medicine . . . look like?"

"You don't know anything." Lin Yan sighed. He put the spatula down. He turned around, suppressing the evil fire in his heart: "Please leave. I'm in a bad mood. I don't have time to say something nice to make you happy."

Xiao Yu was silent and slowly let go of him. He raised a pair of dark eyes to stare at Lin Yan. Something he couldn't understand floated in his eyes, like sadness. He gave him a once-over from head to toe. He turned his head and gently saying: "Lin Yan, don't play with me."

When he turned around, the ghost had already disappeared. Lin Yan slowly put the fried egg on the plate. He pressed through the pain in his stomach and began to eat. The touch of the embrace seemed to linger on his body. He subconsciously shook his shoulders, his face wooden.

Don't play with me? Lin Yan recalled the ghost's words with a look in his eyes. This proud young man had rushed out of the unknown and forcibly occupied his home, his bed, his space, his time and his . . . his thigh muscles twitched. Lin Yan slowly rubbed his hands along his thighs. Finally, he put down his chopsticks and buried his face in the palms of his hands and rubbed hard, unconsciously turning his eyes red. In the end, who was playing with who?

Meat is most delicious with the blood. The more debaucherous the lust, the more enjoyable it'll be. Sex could be dirty, but love couldn't. Love was the purest thing, there was no room for filth. The ridiculous night was over. The unpredictable ghost could be forgotten, but the gentle side of the ghost forced him to remember some feelings that had nothing to do with lust. The softest corner of his heart was gently tugged. Lin took a bit of his egg, his throat choked up with inexplicable sorrow and grief.

Maybe he was disgusted with himself for losing himself last night, but what difference does it make? Lin Yan silently thought. Some things can't be taken back.

After washing the dishes, he called Professor Folder's secretary to confirm the meeting time. The secretary gave him the address of the institute, and, after finalizing the meeting, Lin Yan cleaned up the kitchen. A small pile of chopped green onions and ginger was still on the chopping board. The knifework was clumsy, but he had been serious about it. Lin Yan used a knife to brush them off the board. Just as he was about to throw them away, he suddenly hesitated. He found a small bowl and put it in the refrigerator freezer.

That guy should have found a place to get angry. Lin Yan sighed, limped and held the wall to walk outside. One thing after another left him completely exhausted. He knew it was wrong to take it out on him, but he just couldn't find the energy to comfort the stubborn ghost. It was almost time for his appointment. Lin Yan packed his pen and notebook into his sports bag. When he walked into the living room, he was shocked. Xiao Yu was picking up things on the floor with his back facing him. When he heard Lin Yan come in, he turned around, holding several girl's trinkets, hair clips, dolls, leather coin purses, and a few photos that could barely be seen.

"These can still be used. Take them." Xiao Yu hung his head cautiously: "I can't compensate you for the rest. I don't have the money you use, and you took everything I had."

The sunlight came in from the half-opened curtains. The ghost stood helplessly in the wind-swept living room, bowing his head as a peace offering, lowering his stature and waiting to be forgiven.

Lin Yan couldn't say a word. He stood there for a long time, and when he opened his mouth, his voice became mute: "What are you doing this early in the morning? Are you trying to make me feel bad?" He found a garbage bag to put them in, harshly tying the bag. "I don't even want them anymore."

He dragged Xiao Yu into the bedroom and opened the paper bags that were piled up in the corner. The clothes he bought in Shenjiayuan last time were hung in the closet. He had even kept the auspicious mortuary clothes, carefully ironed out and hung on clothing hangers. The full cabinet was stuffed with two people's things, almost giving a sense of 'home'.

"Satisfied? Come over and I'll help you comb your hair." Lin Yan tugged Xiao Yu's sleeve: "I made an appointment to ask about you at the research institute today. We're going to be late."

All the words in the world couldn’t compare to the warmth of "we". Lin Yan held Xiao Yu's long, silky hair. The two figures were reflected in the mirror. White fabric draped over the top. The pearwood dresser was decorated with gold inlay. The pearly surface was like the white of a flower. A screen behind them covered in peony flowers and birds was complex and magnificent; a dazzling sight

Lin Yan satisfactorily rolled a bun with a bone hairpin. The bangs on his forehead fell down. His features were as sharp as a knife, with sharp eyebrows and starry eyes. He couldn't help but squeeze his face jokingly: "Young Master looks really handsome. How are you going to pay for your manservant?" He muttered: "Without money, you have to sleep with me at night. What a shame."

As he spoke, he put his hand on Xiao Yu's shoulder. Cold fingers moved up to caress the back of his hand, carefully tracing the bones in his fingers, like dealing with a treasure made of jade.

"I know all that. I just can't bear to let you go." Xiao Yu spoke very lightly.

"What?" Lin Yan didn't hear him clearly.

"Nothing." Xiao Yu said softly.

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

The research institute where the professor worked was built inside a large complex. It took a long time to find the side road from the main road. The low bungalows were shaded by the century-old trees. There were round tables and wicker chairs on the open balcony of the building, and occasionally they could see gray-haired foreigners sitting together drinking tea.

After greeting the entrance guard, Lin Yan drove his car into the back parking lot with ease and stopped in front of a modest gray bungalow. The 90s-style office didn't have a separate door, two steps leading into the dark and dreary building. Standing in the yard was a middle-aged man in work clothes, holding a small piece of paper to double-check if it matched Lin Yan's car license plate. When he saw that everything matched, he smiled honestly and greeted Lin Yan and opened the door very courteously.

"Lin, welcome. My name is Chen." The middle-aged man shook enthusiastically shook Lin Yan's hand. "The professor has arranged everything."

"Brother Chen." Lin Yan said respectfully.

"Come, come. It's bright outside. Come inside and see. Two days ago, I was on a business trip. Hey, comrade, you know, we have to travel every day in this line of work. We started going through the files as soon as we got back. Come in and find out if we have what you need."

The middle-aged man said as he took Lin Yan into the building. He was actually very young when he looked at him up close. He had a rugged look because he worked in areas with harsh UV rays. His eyes were plain and his skin was tanned and blistered. A mouthful of white teeth was revealed when he spoke. This comrade reminded Lin Yan of the old leader with a ceramic vase in front of him in the "Reform and Opening*" poster. The person in front of him's appearance suddenly started to warp in his mind. His shirt was tucked in his black pants and a Zhongshan suit was draped over him. He was gesticulating towards the door. A pair of large hands with prominent knuckles and bones was a common characteristic of the working people.

*(T/N: "Reform and Opening" policy is the Chinese economic reforms that went into place after Mao Zedong's death in China and pursued by Deng Xiaoping)