#the duck tongue meatballs

[fieriframes]

[A lot going on in a little dish. Duck tongue, meatballs. Sound like a dame. The Duck Tongue Meatballs will be playing later tonight. So I'm here in downtown El Paso, Texas, right across the street from the big library]

[cianmarstoo]

fuck it friday

cause i got distracted before i could post this on wednesday hahaha so here's a look at the family dinner party with Amelia and Carolyn Shepherd visiting the family in Seattle, with Meredith acting all perky, and Alex having undiagnosed adhd

Alex fidgeted in his seat at the dining table, it was done up with a tablecloth, and candles which he’d been told multiple times he wasn’t allowed to touch, and had now been moved fully away from him. The table was completely full, both with chairs around the table, with people, and with food filling up the table.  His mommy was still smiling looking very weird: it wasn’t her usual smile, he liked his mommy’s normal smile, and how she would usually roll her eyes, and joke and talk, but now she was talking all… high and too happy, and giggling, and agreeing with everything his Grammy said, it was just… wrong. It wasn’t his mommy.   There was also some gross fish on the table taking his attention. His daddy had tried to encourage him to have some, telling him the salmon would be good for his brain, but had given up when Alex had made barfing noises. So instead his plate had been loaded up with some of the pasta and meatballs and garlic bread. Jackson and April both had some of both the salmon and the pasta.  He pulled his tongue out as April ate some salmon.  “It’s yummy, Alex,” she insisted, “and it’s so-fiscal-rated.” “It’s gross.” “This one’s nice,” Jackson told him diplomatically, “an’ uncle Derek maked it, you like uncle Derek’s cookin’.” “Nuh uh, he maked salad and yucky broccoli,” Alex protested, “only spastgetti good.” April glared at him, “That’s ‘cause you’re a baby.” “No I’m not!” “You’re babier than me.” “He’s not a baby,” Jackson frowned at her, “that’s not nice April.” “He is littler than me and you though,” she protested, her cheeks were now bright pink and burning.  “You’re eatin’ Nemo!” “NO I AM NOT! YOU’RE A DUMB BABY!” Alex didn’t bother with words: He didn’t like how everyone was acting weird, Mark and Owen were acting nervous, his mommy was broken, his Grammy was frowning at his mommy like she didn’t understand her, and even his daddy was being weird, he kept looking at Amelia who was trying to avoid looking at him, which was weird because Alex liked her a lot- she was good at building towers and good at making them fall, which made her one of Alex’s new favourite people.  Then there was April, calling Alex a dumb baby.  That was the breaking point.  Alex didn’t bother with words.  He grabbed one of the meatballs from his plate and threw it at April, hitting her on the face.  Everyone fell silent. “Al-” April picked up some of her salmon, throwing it at her cousin across the table, but Alex ducked down, and the salmon hit Jackson.  Jackson didn’t hesitate, throwing salad at both April and Alex.  Before any of the adults could do anything the three littles started to throw food across the table, hitting each other and the adults at the table. Their dads all tried to say their names to get them to stop, but they were all ignored. “Stop this, right now!” 

tagging @anewkindofme and @alessiankarev and literally anyone else who wants to do it!

[bones-weary]

November 18 — The Character Tour

Over the course of his long life and undeath, Bones has been to every corner of the world--multiple times in many cases. As the years dragged on into decades into centuries, memories of those places and their occurrences have faded and melded together. When he hears the name of a place, some memories may surface.

Memories of the United States are loud and punchy. Bustling city streets with buskers and yelling. A brawl in a speakeasy. Whooping targets and beating hoofprints on the desert rock. Low vibrations of an unheard sermon. Would God ever forgive him? He once made a smoked briskit with roasted potatoes and a tangy sauce.

Memories of Brazil are colorful and fleeting. Following tracks in the wet mud of the dense jungle. Mist from a waterfall obscuring his vision. Live music floating through an opened window as he vent the stove. He once marinated a duck in tupuci sauce topped with cashews.

Memories of Egypt are distinct, a singular moment where freedom was realized. Roaming the marketplace with careful eyes. Meeting a familiar face and the shocked disgust of another. Dark tendrils lashing from the shadows, the final cry of a dying animal. The rites performed. He made his accomplice ful medames with hot pita bread.

Memories of China are vague and longstanding. Busy streets and seas of people. Cautious navigation as to not draw the ire. An escaped target, but the one that would complete him. He once made a char siu in a glaze with vegetable fried rice.

Memories of Russia are humbling and turning. Crunching footfalls in snowy steppes, the wind and ice slicing all visibility. A singular cottage devoid of warmth but brimming with laughter. Falling to knees, an admit of defeat. Forgiveness unearned. He made a hearty and thick rabbit stew, though it remained uneaten.

Memories of Romania are burned into him as did the home of the innocents, their blood staining the wood as it turned to ash. Countless victims over countless decades, until another couldn't be brought. A roaring crowd, voices numerous, followed by silence. The night it all happened, he'd made them a sour meatball soup, much of which went cold.

Memories of Germany are violent and turbulent. A hunter's first kill, messy and unclean. Tearing and ripping and gouging and gouging and gouging. An art perfected over years of practice, but the initial stain never washing from his breast pocket. He once made a spatzle to go alongside saubraten lamb. It was unusually rare.

Memories of the United Kingdom are ancient and modern, mixed undetermined. The first time he stepped foot on the polished wood of a ship and the metal interior of an airplane. Meeting a crew just beginning a journey that had long boiled him down to nothing. The opening of the doors to a new life. A family of misfits. Just yesterday he made banana pancakes topped with blueberry maple sauce and a fruit mix.

Memories of Spain are bittersweet and nostalgic. Once the stage for his greatest triumph, a meal for the divine right of kings, whose power seemed insurmountable and eternal. It's a McDonalds last he saw. It had been unending with course after course, but all applauded the arrez con leche, mixed with orange and cinammon and topped with a fine layer of sweet milk.

Memories of France are numerous and sensational. The smell of the lavender fields. Burned flesh on the family stove. Soft fur of the barn cat on his fingertips. Sweet nectar and air filling his lungs as their lips part. The taste, the taste, the taste of foods--any foods, all foods, a love and passion imprinted on a tongue that would one day be haunted with ghosts of flavor.

It is at this point where the memories become too much.

And Bones returns to his work.

[nitroglycerin-sponge]

Mecharoni Pizza Part 4

Links: prev / next / main

Bonus: Pizza Varieties

Pizza Varieties are formatted as follows: [Title] [Descriptor] [Ingredient] and [Ingredient] [Style]

Titles: Guardian's, Manager's Special, Space Pirate's, Tyrant's, Star Lord's, Cheese Lover's, DragonLord's, Marksman's, Star Captain's, Mecha Gunner's, Mechanic's, Freshman's, Y-Mart Shopper's, Frugal Shopper's, Adventurer's, Mecha Pilot's, Overlord's, Instructor's, Khan's, Kingadent's, Teacher's, Family Sized, Star Fighter's, Supreme, Vegetarian, Meat Lover's, [none]

Descriptor: Titan, Reheated, Soggy, Month Old, Year Old, 100 Year Old, Beefy, Reanimated, Mysterious, Artisan, Fluffy, Half Eaten, Stacked, Rejected, Deadly, Double Decker, Irresistible, Golden Brown, Omnipotent, Healing, Moving, Accidentally made, Heroic, Holiday, Recalled, Late night, Smoking, Custom Ordered, Radioactive, Regurgitated, Gluten Free, Personal Pan, Blessed, Holy, Soft, Puny, Non-refundable, Well Seasoned, 3-Second Rule, Mostly Editable, Flame Engulfed, Ventilated, Invisible, Mathematically Sound, Infinitely Improbable, Smelly, Sizzling, Cursed, Blinding, Very Good, Tiny, Inverted, Robot Made, Sour Dough, Cold, Frozen, Long Lasting, Sentient, Cheese Filled, Oven Fresh, Scary, Undigestable, Colossal, Gamma, Beta, Poisonous, Outworldly, Tasty, Haunted, Fresh, Broiled, Two Star, Dairy Free, Insured, Grilled, Under Seasoned, Technologically Advanced, Legendary, Vampyric, Lactose Free, Undead, Explosive, Glowing, Specially Prepared, Exotic*, Exhumed, Bite Size, Theoretically Improbable, Sugar Coated, Transforming, Self Aware, Foul, Moist, Chewy, Undercooked, Good to Go, Rare, Pungent, All mighty, Sour tasting, Hot, Sweet smelling, Multifunctional, Epic, Hypnotic, Quality Tested, MSG Free, Whole Wheat, Charred, Shredded, Microscopic, Microwaved, Stepped on, Metallic, Over seasoned, Caramelized, Hand Tossed, Pretty Big, Medium, Disintegrating, Chocolate Covered, Small, Fried, Mithril Chef's, Nano, Burnt, Dropped, Self eating, Four Star, Foul, Common, Triple Decker, Sat on, Galactic, [none]

Ingredients: Hot Fudge, Lime, Toothpaste, Caramel, Okra, Pepperoni, Eel, Duck, Pumpkin, Green Pepper, Mayonase, Bacon, Grizzly, Pepper, Egg Roll, Seedspitter, Sneevil, Lettuce, Sun Dried Tomato, Pomegranate, Salt, French Fry, Jelly, Ice Cream, Straw Berry, Gum, Provolone, Chocolate Chip, Ham, Maple Syrup, Swiss Cheese, Ribs, Asparagus, Onion, Egg, Gram Cracker, Marshmellow, Imitation-Dolphin, Expresso, Cereal, Almond, Candy Cane, Noodle, Yam, Chicken, Avocado, Fish, Coffee Bean, Pickle, Citrus, Orange, Walnut, Pork Belly, Soylent Green, Mystery Meat, Octopus, Tater Tot, Catnip, Nuts and Bolts, Parsley, Raisin, Taffy, Anchovy, Bat, Rat, Lemon, Gouda, Red Pepper, Popcorn, Hamburger, Cheese, Milk, Pineapple, Road kill, Snake, Ox Tongue, Macaroni, Mognip, Meatball, Olive, Skunk, Gorillaphant, Blue Cheese, Anchovy, Split Pea, Yogurt, Meteorite, Asteroid, Shellfish, Oil & Vinegar, Apple, Carne Asada, Fig, Fried Chicken, Dog Biscut, Sushi, Tapiocca, Steak, Peanut Butter, Jam, Cracker, Bean, Squid, Sweet & Sour Sauce, Oatmeal, Corn, BBQ Chicken, Gator, Sour Cream, Tofu, Grease, Jello, Pumpernickel

Styles: Pizza, Sicilian Pizza, Ultimate Pizza, Thick Crust Pizza, Giant Pizza, Pizza Slice, Square Pizza, Flavoured Pizza, Triangular-shaped Pizza, Pan Pizza, Pizza Pie, Chicago Style Pizza, Deep Dish Pizza

[fruitcoops]

So my finger is actually broken and it made me think about the series where Remus took a stick to the face and Sirius took care of him if you’re willing to do another part to that so I can live vicariously that’d be great

Hey lovely! I’m so sorry for the massive delay on this fic--hopefully, your finger feels better soon <3 Coops and O’Knutzy credit goes to @lumosinlove!

This fic also includes Cap and Logan being brothers, O’Knutzy fluff, and my personal favorite ask of all time:

Anon: We have seen protective Leo in action and he is an absolute badass, but what about the other 2/3 of O’Knutzy. Because gods know they would all protect their fairy gay mother if anyone were to mess with him in the slightest

TW for bruising, swelling, injury

Read the rest of the series here!

“Where is he?” Leo demanded as soon as the door opened. His mother would have been appalled by his lack of manners, but he was too worried to bother with pleasantries. “Is he alright?”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Hello to you, too, Knut. Harzy, Lo, how’s it going?”

“Depends,” Finn said. “How’s our favorite rookie doing?”

Logan took a more direct approach and kicked Sirius lightly on the shin. “Move, I want to see my future beau-frère.”

“Are they here?” a rough voice called from the living room.

“Don’t get up, Loops!” Leo shouted down the hall, making a beeline for the kitchen. “Are you feeling okay?”

There was a muffled curse from the other room, followed by footsteps; Leo scowled. “I’m not made of glass,” Remus huffed as he shuffled into the room with an ice pack in his hand.

All three of them hissed in sympathy and Leo felt phantom pain in his nose at the wide bruise across Remus’ cheekbones. “You should go lay down again, dude.”

“You made me soup?”

“You can only have it if you promise to rest.”

“I don’t have a concussion.”

“Your face looks like someone biked over it.”

“Rude. I’ll call your mother.”

“You don’t have her number.”

Remus shot him a look and turned to the others, who were watching in clear amusement. “Tremzy, a hand?”

“Can’t tell you. I want soup.” Logan ruffled his hair as he walked past; Remus batted him away, but he was smiling. It was even more crooked than usual with the latent swelling, and Leo felt a pang in his chest when he noticed the missing dimples. He looked so…not Loops. “Où sont les casseroles?”

Finn frowned and glanced in the Tupperware. “That’s not casserole, Lo.”

Sirius reached up and pulled a large pot down from the cupboard. “Pots, Harz. You’ve been dating these two for almost a year and you still don’t know French?”

Finn hopped up on the counter. “Keeps things interesting.”

Leo blew him a kiss and received a wink in return, making them both laugh. “Thanks again for bringing this over,” Remus said as Leo turned the stove on and grabbed a wooden spoon.

“Anything for the rookie, right? You look better than last night.”

“Yeah?” Hope lit in Remus’ less-swollen eye; he was still bruised to hell and back, but the puffiness had gone own significantly and a good night’s sleep seemed to have done him good.

“No thanks to the captain,” Finn snorted, swinging his legs until Sirius whacked him on the thigh with a spoon. “I swear to god he was just fucking with us in the groupchat.”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “What did you do?”

“I told the truth!” Sirius protested. “I don’t know why they’re all pissy.”

“You were so vague,” Logan groaned. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and scrolled through the texts, then cleared his throat. “Home safe. Re is fine—"

“Get over here—”

“—getting lots of cuddles from Hattie,” Logan continued, ducking out of Sirius’ reach as he read aloud. Leo stepped closer to the stove to let them both run past. “Thanks for the messages. Thanks for the messages? Thanks for the fucking messages?”

“That was pretty vague,” Remus agreed, hiding a smile behind his hand when Sirius finally snatched Logan’s phone away.  

“I’m keeping this,” he threatened. “And I sent messages to people who reached out individually with questions, including your boyfriend.”

“Which one?” Logan asked with a smirk.

Sirius shook his head. “Knutty, will you be offended if I kick him out of the house?”

“Eh.” Leo shrugged, still stirring. “He could use some fresh air. Maybe put a bowl of water out with him.”

Logan grabbed a towel and rolled it up, snapping it at Leo’s ass; it connected with a sharp smack and he dodged the second attack by less than an inch. “Hey, cut it out!” Remus laughed. “He’s making me soup!”

“Yeah, Lo, we don’t want to leave the invalid in the hands of Cap’s cooking,” Finn drawled.

Sirius heaved a sigh. “You are all so mean to me.”

“I love you!” Remus said, putting a hand over his heart in mock-offense.

“You don’t trust my cooking either.”

He hesitated for half a second and Sirius spread his hands. “I trust most of your cooking. And all of your baking.”

Leo perked up. “Will you make cookies for us?”

“No.”

“Come on,” he wheedled as bubbles began forming around the edges of the soup. “You know you want to.”

“He made some for the block party two weeks ago,” Remus said with a grin, leaning over to smell the thick steam. “I’m domesticating him.”

“He’s like a feral cat. Once you let him in and feed him, he starts making cookies and never leaves.” Logan slotted himself between Finn’s knees for a cuddle with a devious glance at Sirius.

“I regret knowing you,” Sirius muttered; the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away, and Leo smiled to himself as he pulled a few bowls out of the nearest cabinet. “Soup’s ready?”

“Soup’s ready. Where are we eating?”

“Well, Loops is eating on the couch so he can rest,” Logan said, ignoring Remus’ eye roll.

“I’m fine.” All four of them gave him a skeptical look and he threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “Alright, we’ll eat in the living room and pretend I’m on my deathbed. Jesus Christ.”

Leo gave him a playful nudge as he handed him a bowl. “That’s what friends do, right?”

Remus’ face softened and he bumped him back. “This was really sweet of you, Knutty.”

“What was I supposed to do, leave you here alone with only your fiancé and your dog for company?” He looked behind the kitchen island and paused. “Speaking of, where’s my baby?”

“I’ll get her.” Sirius wandered out of the room and they heard the back door open a moment later; after a few seconds of muffled noise, Hattie came barreling into the room in all her long-legged glory. One side of her fur was mussed into bedhead, but Finn dropped down and immediately smoothed it out again as he smothered her with affection.

“Oh, was somebody taking a nap on the deck?” Remus cooed, grabbing a handful of spoons from a drawer.

“I missed you so much!” Finn said, laughing as she licked his face. “So much, precious girl! It’s been too long!”

Hattie wiggled out of his hold and galloped toward Leo—she tripped over her too-big paws and rolled to a stop at his feet with a lolling tongue. “Oh, my munchkin,” he groaned, lifting her into a cradle hold. “Do you think your dads would be sad if I took you home with me?”

“Yes,” Sirius and Remus chorused.

“But I made them soup!” He stuck his lower lip out in a pout and held her closer to his chest. “It’s only fair.”

Logan turned a pleading look on Sirius. “You can’t say no to that face, can you?”

“Someday, you can have a sleepover. For right now, we’re going to eat soup and then make Remus take a nap.”

Leo declined to mention the fact that he had not answered the question and filed that particular information away for later use. For all his bluster and grumbling, Sirius was a softie for puppy eyes of any sort.

They gathered in the living room and carefully balanced their bowls so nobody spilled on the carpet. Remus curled up to make space for Sirius on the couch, while Logan perched on the armrest of Leo’s chair and Finn took the floor; Hattie made the rounds with a roving nose and tried to steal bites wherever possible, to little avail.

“This is really good,” Sirius said after a few minutes of hungry silence, shoving another spoonful of broth in his mouth. “Mon dieu, what is this?”

“Italian wedding soup,” Leo said, breaking a meatball in half. “Mom’s recipe.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You’re not Italian.”

“Not even a little.”

“You guys are the best, by the way,” Remus said. “This is exactly what I needed.”

“We would’ve beat the rookie up if you asked,” Finn informed him with a casual bite of soup. “Say the word, it’s done.”

Remus shook his head. “It was an accident. He tripped, I came up too fast, and it snowballed from there. Kid’s lucky he didn’t get a skate to the face when we fell.”

Logan blinked at him for a second. “You’ve seen your face recently, right?”

“No, actually, it’s a bit difficult to see my own face,” Remus said drily. “I’m sure it looks worse than it feels.”

Sirius raised his eyebrows, but made no comment. Leo wasn’t sure whether he wanted to know that story or not; seeing Loops in any amount of pain was hard enough. “Kind of ironic, right?” he said instead. “After all that time spent fixing us, you’re the one we get to take care of.”

Remus snorted. “How the turntables. Hestia did all the heavy lifting.”

“That Tupperware was heavy.”

“Do you want to tape me back together next time?”

“Don’t try me, Loops, I’ll do it and give you a moustache.”

They bickered and teased for the next half hour, long after their bowls were empty and Hattie laid down with a dramatic huff after her unsuccessful quest. Finally, Remus dozed off on Sirius’ shoulder, which they took as their cue to leave.

“Thank you again, guys,” Sirius said as they pulled their coats on. “This really meant a lot to both of us.”

“No problem,” Finn said with a shrug. “We were worried, and bringing over a little soup was easy.”

“It was good to talk to you both outside of practice,” Logan added, giving him a one-armed hug. “Keep us updated?”

“Bien sûr.”

“See you around, Capsicle.” Leo mock-saluted and Sirius laughed under his breath. “Take care of our rookie.”

“Will do, Knutty.”

Leo maneuvered his container around his seatbelt as Finn turned the car on, trying not to lose another lid down the crack between the console. “I’m glad we did that,” he said after a few seconds of comfortable silence.

“Me, too. Loops still looked pretty rough, though,” Logan said quietly.

The side of Finn’s mouth turned down a tick. “Next time we play the Ravens, that rookie is getting checked like he’s never been checked before.”

Leo’s back cracked as he stretched his arms over his head. “Oh, yeah, Kasey and I already have a plan. That kid is never even going to see the net.”

[prettylightsbigcity]

Day 28 - Prophecy

Dec 22, 2021 Here's a really fluffy future fic partially inspired by a trip I took to New Orleans with my partner! Rated G, about 2500 words, read below or on ao3.

***

Simon

I cannot believe Baz and I are back in America; I never thought I’d see the day. Granted, it’s been ten years since our ill-fated road trip. On that visit, I thought I was losing Baz (losing everything), and everything I did was a last hurrah, a final farewell. This time, I’m on my honeymoon, and every day feels like the start of forever. We thought about going somewhere tropical, like Bali or the Caribbean, but neither of us are much for just lying on the beach all day. Baz would need gallons of sunscreen, for a start. And I start to itch if I spend too many days in a row not doing anything. 

Eventually, we settled on New Orleans. It might seem an odd choice to someone who doesn’t know us, but Baz is absolutely bursting with excitement over all the magickal history (and regular history), and I want to try all the food and go dancing. Today is our third day in the city, and I finally feel like the jet lag fuzziness is lifting from my brain. Baz is clearly not having the same experience; he’s sprawled out in bed next to me, one hand resting over his head and his hair spilling over his pillow and onto mine as he sleeps blissfully on. We agreed not to plan things in the mornings, so we could wake up when we felt like it and have leisurely breakfasts together every day. Which is great, except… I really want to wake him up. I think if I do it right, he won’t be upset with me at all. I grin and duck underneath the covers.

Several hours and many cups of coffee later, Baz and I are walking hand in hand down a colorful street. He’s spelled my wings neat and tidy, and my tail is wrapped snugly around my waist for now. We breathe in the late morning air, humid, but not too hot yet. All the houses here have so much personality; it’s nothing like the row houses back home. It feels a bit like a storybook city, to be honest. People are friendly here too; an old lady in a brightly colored dress sitting on her front step waves to us as we pass by.

“Lookin’ good, boys!” she calls out, and I flush to the tips of my ears.

Baz just smirks and tips an imaginary hat towards her. The woman slaps a hand to her chest and fans herself, and even Baz has to giggle. Everyone here is so full of life and laughter; it feels like someone cast a kind word on the whole city. There’s a tiny restaurant just down the street from our Airbnb called The Sneaky Pickle (that’s its actual name), and the owners there are so nice that they made me suspicious at first. We stopped in there the night we arrived for some dinner, sitting on their tiny patio under a climbing wisteria vine. Well, Baz said it was wisteria; I just thought it was pretty. A chubby little tabby cat leapt up into my lap, and I froze, my eyes widening. 

“Babe, there’s a cat on me,” I whispered.

Baz looked like he could barely contain his laughter.

“Yes, love, I can see that. Clearly the creature has some sense of self-preservation; it chose you over me.”

I rolled my eyes at him as the petite blonde woman who seated us came back over.

“Oh shoot!” she exclaimed, “I’m so sorry about him— that’s Meatball, he loves sitting with customers. He begs for food, but don’t you listen to him, he gets fed plenty at home!” 

She put down our menus and gave me a smile before bustling back inside. Meatball the cat settled down into my lap, kneading my thigh with his little paws as he started vibrating. 

“Baz, babe… I think he’s purring,” I said in a hushed voice.

“He must like you.”

I tried not to breathe for the next thirty minutes as we waited for our food. Meatball fell asleep with his tongue hanging out. He was very warm and soft. He stayed there when our food arrived, and the blonde woman and her partner, the chef, came over and lingered at our table to chat. Turned out they owned the place; they asked us where we were from and what our plans were in New Orleans. Thankfully, Baz did most of the talking, because my mouth was full of the absolutely delicious food they served us. I didn’t even know what some of the things on the menu were, but Baz helped translate. Red snapper crudo, macaroni and cheese, fresh hand cut chips, smoked corn, fish and yucca croquettes… we’d ordered everything that looked appetizing, and boy, it was good. I had a long moment of being completely absorbed with a mouthful of pasta, and I sort of lost track of everything else, but I tuned back into the conversation just in time to hear Baz explaining that we didn’t have a car, but we were planning to take the bus downtown. He’s come so far. To my surprise, the restaurant owners offered to lend us their bicycles; they swore it was the best way to see the city, and they told us we could just bring back the bikes at the end of our week here.

“But you don’t know us at all!” Baz had protested, and the man just laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Welcome to N’awlins,” he’d said.

Then he gave us grilled oysters that his friend had caught that morning. On the house. I think I’m going to love it here. 

A car horn pulls me out of my reminiscence and I snap my head up to make sure we’re not about to be run over. Baz has an alarming habit of jaywalking without looking both ways. It turns out the car is honking at a traveling band moving towards us down the sidewalk. A trumpet wails, and Baz squeezes my hand, stepping to one side as the sound of music gets closer. We watch the musicians pass by, dancing as they play an upbeat jazz song. Baz points to something on the other side of the road as the band moves on. 

“Look Simon, we’re right across from City Park; it looks like there’s some kind of market happening.”

He’s right, there are rows of tents sprawling over the green pathways of the park.

“Shall we?” I ask, and Baz nods. 

We have a cemetery tour scheduled for this afternoon, but we have a couple of hours before that. We have time to explore. I tug Baz’s hand, pulling him across the street (I looked both ways, twice). We start down the wide pathway, pausing almost immediately so Baz can examine an artisanal soap shop set up under a purple tent. I squeeze Baz’s hand and then wander over to the next stall, which appears to be selling various pieces of folk art, all sporting the slogan “Be Nice or Leave!” We wander along, taking time to look at whatever catches our fancy. I buy a pair of beaded earrings for Penny, and Baz picks up a book called A History of Voodoo. He insists it’s all going to be nonsense, but I can tell he’s looking forward to reading it. A tent made of silky red fabric catches my eye, and I tug Baz’s sleeve gently, distracting him from a tent filled with leather goods. “Let Mama Dani gaze into your future!” a hand painted sign proudly proclaims, and then in smaller text: “palm readings, tarot, and prophecies for all brave enough to enter.” Baz snorts. 

“A sideshow fraud, surely,” he mutters to me under his breath.

“C’mon babe, it could be fun. Let’s get our palms read!” I beg. 

Baz pretends to think about it, but I can already tell he’s going to give in. His mouth is soft at the corners, and his eyes are sparkling with happiness. 

“Very well, Snow,” he finally relents with a put-upon sigh. 

He lets me lead him over to the tent. It’s one of the only fully enclosed ones in the whole market, and we duck under the sheer fabric hanging across the entrance. It’s dark inside, and I pause for a moment to let my eyes adjust from the brightness outside. 

“Welcome to Mama Dani’s table, children,” says a creaking voice from the gloom. 

Baz leads the way further into the tent, where a tiny, hunched woman sits in a massive intricately carved chair behind a round table. 

“Come, come, sit with me awhile,” she croaks.

She sounds like she smokes two packs a day. Baz sits in one of the two chairs opposite the old woman, and I take the other. None of the three chairs match each other or the table, but somehow it all works together. 

“I am Mama Dani,” she says, extending a small, twisted hand. 

Baz takes it gamely, shaking politely as he replies, “Pleasure to meet you.”

I opt for a friendly wave, and the woman bobs her head in my direction, smiling a toothless grin. 

“How can Mama help you today, young friends?” she asks, then continues, “Ah, wait, I see. Mama knows. You seek to know your futures. I will peer into the shadows, and I will tell.” 

Baz and I look at each other. He gives a nearly imperceptible shrug, and I nod.

“Alright, sure, tell us our future,” I say. 

Mama Dani lights a candle and closes her eyes. She takes a deep breath, and then she starts to sing in a deep, low voice, warm and rich. I don’t understand the words; I think it might be French, or something similar. Baz’s eyebrows twitch together in the middle as he tries to puzzle through the lyrics. I just listen, letting the heavy melody wash over me. Her knobbly fingers touch mine, and I look down to see her holding out her hand, offering. My other hand is holding Baz’s under the table, but I let her take my free hand. Her grip is surprisingly firm. She takes Baz’s hand in her other one, completing the circle. Her song finishes, and a moment of silence rings clearly through the tent. I can’t even hear the busy festival just outside. Mama Dani smiles. 

“Yours are blessed lives,” she tells us seriously, “to find love so pure is a rare and precious gift. But I can see that you have both battled fiercely for this happiness. You will not surrender it lightly, no. Mama Dani can see, there is much happiness and sorrow before you both, but you will never face it alone. Never again,” she adds, looking right into Baz’s eyes.

His throat bobs as he swallows. 

“And you,” she says, turning her piercing brown eyes to me, “a time will come when you will be asked to lead once more. Do not be afraid. It is not what you can do, but who you are that gives you your power.”

I blink hard, feeling a bit off-kilter. 

How does she know I used to be a leader…?

“There will be a child,” she continues, and smiles a bit as she speaks, “a child with sunshine in her hair and fire in her heart. Do not be afraid,” she says, looking at Baz again, “you will never fail her. And you will find the words she needs,” she says to me, “this child will want for nothing, and she will bring happiness far beyond imagining.”

She pauses for so long that I think she must be finished, and then Mama Dani takes a shuddering breath. 

“Losses will come, and the world will feel a dark and bitter place. Above all, trust in the love. Protect it. Nurture it. It will bring you back to the light.”

She goes quiet again, and then her chin tilts forward, resting on her chest. Her eyes are closed. I give Baz the side eye.

“Is she…?”

Mama Dani lets out a gentle snore, and I stifle a laugh. Baz looks as bewildered as I feel. We look at each other, and in unspoken agreement, we get up out of our chairs. There’s a little basket beside the door with a price list over it. Prophecies are listed as twenty dollars. Baz plucks a twenty and a ten from his wallet and drops them in the basket as we make our way out of the dim tent. The daylight outside is startling. It seems like there are fewer people wandering along the path than before, and some of the vendors are starting to pack up their wares. I turn to Baz. 

“Is it just me, or was she—”

“Strangely insightful?” Baz finishes, “And undeniably magickal?”

I nod. 

“I felt it too,” Baz says quietly, “I don’t think she’s a mage, but she’s certainly… something.”

“Do you think that means what she told us was true?” I ask, feeling oddly hopeful.

Baz looks thoughtful for a moment, then grins, wrapping an arm around my shoulders to pull me close. 

“I thought you didn’t believe in prophecies, love,” he teases. 

“I mean, obviously I still think they’re bollocks,” I huff, “but there was something about her that made me want to believe what she was saying.”

Baz’s lips are suddenly right next to my ear.

“Well I predict that you’re going to have an excellent time if you come home with me right now,” he whispers, his cool breath washing over my neck and making my hairs stand on end.

“I uhh… I thought we had a cemetery tour?” I question.

Baz kisses my earlobe. 

“Would you be terribly upset if we did that tomorrow instead?” 

I shake my head; he’s so close that I’m bumping against his nose.

“Let’s go home— I mean, to the Airbnb. You know what I mean.”

I set off decisively, leading the way. Baz laughs and catches me by my elbow. 

“Wrong way,” he says, and I flush. 

“Right,” I say, spinning around to head in the other direction. Baz keeps pace easily with his long legs. We cut across the park, passing couples picnicking and kids playing football. Someone is playing a guitar, and the sun is starting to turn everything warm and gilded as it slips towards the horizon. I reach out for Baz’s hand. He gives me an easy smile. 

This is it, I think, I have a whole future full of this to look forward to.

***

The Sneaky Pickle is absolutely a real restaurant, and I highly recommend it should you ever find yourself in New Orleans. Meatball the cat is real, too. On a side note, I reached 1000 hits on ao3 for this COC compilation today, and nearly 100 kudos! Those are both firsts for me, and I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who's been reading. It's my first time doing something like this, and it's been so lovely to have you all encouraging me <3

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Prove Me Wrong

Summary: She can trust you, even if she doesn’t know it yet.

Warning: 18+ Mental Health, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Violence, Smut

Chapter 9

******

“-and it’s always been like this so I figured it was normal. With him being my closest, and at times only, friend I thought maybe that’s how best friends are supposed to feel.”

Nodding, you set your pen and notebook aside,“ Bucky,” waiting for him to look up at you and feeling you heart drop at his teary eyes,“ there is nothing abnormal about how you feel. And I know it can be hard to believe and process because of the time you grew up in but I can assure you that it’s normal.”

He still frowns, no doubt warring with it in his head.

“I’m saying this as your friend and a woman who is dating a woman, your feelings are okay and, if I’m being honest, most likely reciprocated.” 

Brown eyes widen as he looks back up at you.“ You think Steve-” he cuts himself off.

Smiling softly, you ease to the edge of your seat to be just a tad closer to the man,“ you can say the words Buck. I think it’d really help.”

“I have feelings for Steve,” he runs a hand through his long hair,“ romantic feelings.”

“You love him?”

“I do.”

Moving to stand, you walk over and place a hand on his shoulder,“ so tell him. I know it’s easier said than done but you won’t lose him because of it. Best case scenario he loves you just the same.”

“And worst case?”

You shrug,“ I wouldn’t call it worst case, but, there’s a chance he doesn’t hold romantic feelings for you. He’d still be your friend. Your best friend. And he’d still love you.” 

Behind you, your alarm goes off for a third time. 

This session with Bucky has stretched two whole hours past it’s usual time. He’d come in looking pretty distraught and after twenty minutes of silence he’d spilled what was on his mind. 

Recently he’d been feeling a certain way when around Steve. It was very obvious what those feelings were but you’d waited for him to say it himself. Which he’d only just done.

Bucky has always struggled with explaining his feelings so you know this is equally hard and important to him. 

“You don’t have to rush it but it should be done Bucky.” 

Nodding, he pushes himself up off the couch.

Shockingly, he pulls you into a hug. His arms hold you close and he whispers a thank you to you. You smile and return, playfully telling him it’s part of the job. At the same time, you give him a bit of your calm in exchange for his anxiousness. 

The second he leaves, you lean against your desk and drop your head. The received anxiousness flows through you making your thoughts run a mile a minute and you try your best to calm them.

“Looks like you could use another tea.”

Her voice while calming also startles your already frazzled state and she sees you jump just a little.

Frown on her face, she moves over to you, and places a hand on your arm. 

“Y/n what’s wrong?” 

It takes a minute for you to push away the feeling and you smile reassuringly at Natasha afterwards, standing up straight and holding the hand on your arm,“ I just stood up too fast and I haven’t eaten so, head rush.” 

Green eyes search yours unsurely, and you think she knows your lying, but she nods softly,“ then lets go get you something to eat.” 

You feel bad for lying to her, especially after all your worries of her not telling you things but this was different.

Taking on these emotions and dealing with them is apart of your job and Natasha has proven to be a bit protective of you since you’d started dating. You know there’s a chance she won’t think you can handle this, that it’s too much for you and you can’t risk your job helping them. 

You’d tell Natasha, just not yet. You need time to think of the best way to do so.

“So,” you slide on to a stool at the island,“ what have you been up to all day?” 

Natasha’s brow furrows as she combs through the cabinets,“ recruit training,” she huffs,“ this may not be SHIELD but with the way Tony and Fury are running things it may as well be.” 

You quirk an eyebrow, head tilting at her tone,“ am I correct in guessing you don’t want another SHIELD like organization?”

Finally she pulls out a box of spaghetti noodles,“ it’s not about what I want.” 

“Maybe not in the bigger picture but I care about what you want.” You tell her, beginning to get confused by the ingredients she’s pulled out.

Those are definitely mac ‘n’ cheese ingredients but she also has spaghetti noodles and meatballs? Those don’t go together.

“Organizations like SHIELD, HYDRA, the-” her head shakes,“ they don’t last. If that’s what we’re becoming here then, we’ll end just like those organizations.” 

You lift your head, understanding what she means. So you push yourself off the stool and round the corner. 

Just in case she doesn’t want the physical contact, you move slowly while reaching for her hands. Taking them and tugging her to face you, then giving her a reassuring smile.

“Your fear is well placed. But the Avengers have survived those organizations-”

“Barely.” She includes.

Nodding you say,“ there were challenges but you all got through it. This is a family Tasha and I know you know that. Which means you’re stronger than some organization or outside threat. All of you have each other even if you don’t have anyone else.” 

Green eyes bore into yours and a smile pulls at the corner of perfect pink lips. 

Using your linked hands, she tugs you closer, and leans in slowly. Even though this isn’t the first time she’s kissed you, you get a little nervous. But that quickly fades when her lips press to yours.

You swear if you could kiss a cloud this is how it would feel. You hadn’t gone around kissing a bunch of people but you’re almost positive Natasha has the softest lips. 

When she pulls away she can’t help but giggle at the way your eyes remain closed longer. But they snap open the second you hear that soft little sound come from Natasha. 

“Did yo-” you try to fight the smile coming but can’t. It spreads across your face brightly.“ You just giggled.” 

Instead of denying it, Natasha just rolls her eyes and chuckles. 

“Do it again.” You say jokingly while playfully poking her side. An action that successfully elicits the sound from her again. 

Mentally, Natasha is cursing. She can’t believe she’s being so goddamn soft with you. Giggling, letting you tickle her? 

“Y/n stop.” She speaks through laughter, bending her body away from your light touches, and reaching for your hands.

Her fingers wrap around your wrists and she holds them behind your back. Which leaves your chests pressed together, both of you breathing heavily from laughter. And then realizing the position you’re in. 

Natasha’s tongue pokes out and runs across her bottom lip, the next words she speaks are a whisper,“ still hungry?” 

You nod and even though you mean it in two different ways, you know this will only end with you eating whatever pasta Natasha plans to make.

And then she nods. Moving away from you seemingly reluctant.

"So,” you clear your throat,“ what’re you making?” 

Bodies brush as she stands right beside you,“ I- don’t know. I’m not the best cook.” She sheepishly admits. 

“Luckily I am.” 

After a gentle nudge, you comb through the ingredients she’s pulled out, putting away the mac ‘n’ cheese stuff and starting on spaghetti. 

Taking your place at the island, Natasha rests her chin on her crossed hands, and watches you move with ease. All the while making conversation with you. 

She asks about your day, about your past, and just your likes and dislikes. Things that wouldn’t seem worth interest but she hangs on to every word. And it carries through your meal until you’ve both gotten comfortable on the couch. 

It’s then that your nervousness resurfaces. 

As Natasha looks for something to watch, you sit at her side, wanting nothing more than to move closer. Except you aren’t sure if she’d be okay with that. 

Noticing this, and definitely wanting to be closer to you, the redhead scoots over. Her arm slides around your shoulders and she pulls you into her. She smiles at your smile and without a thought, kisses your temple. 

Heat rises to your cheeks and you duck your head. That shyness disappears the second you look up and see Bucky entering the common room, his hand in Steve’s.

“Hey Doll.” Steve nods to you, then Natasha.“ Nat.”

You wave, pulling your eyes from their hands,“ hi Steve. Buck.” You then look to the brunette man. 

Bucky smiles softly and mouths a thanks before following Steve out of the building. Once again leaving you alone with Natasha.

“Are they-” you nod.“ Did you have something to do with that?” You nod. 

Natasha smiles,“ you keep surprising me Y/Ln.” 

“I could say the same Romanoff.” You wink at her, because it’s completely true.

******

taglist: @username23345 @muffliat-o  @aaron-despair @natasha-danvers​ @wildhoney32 @criminallyhamilton @fayhar @nat-km-mh @chicken-wang09 @trikruismybitch

[brandstifter-sys]

Under Pressure 

Chapter 22: Countdown            (Ao3)

Word Count: 1005

Characters: Remus, Roman, Patton

Relationships: Royaliceit (mentioned)

Rating: T

Warnings: Swash buckling action, villain!Logan, frog!Patton, innuendo

---

It was quiet in the common area. Too quiet. The five sides that escaped should have been making more noise. They weren't registering on the sensors, probably hiding in the hallway rather than their rooms or the testing facility, the only place without any monitors yet. Log a of n was expecting something to happen. 

And then the room filled with fog, mist from a dry ice machine. The robot turned Its core towards the entrance expecting some kind of spectacle. And then the opening notes of "the Final Countdown" blared through the room. 

The logical assumption would be that this was the work of at least one of the twins. Janus, while one for dramatics, was also more inclined to make a stealthy entrance. Virgil would simply appear and attack without promoting if he were to show. 

Thwack

A slimy tongue snapped through the air and completely covered the glowing optical sensor. 

"Don' thuck with mah fwiends!" Patton shouted in the entryway. He pulled his tongue back, cracking the glass on the sensor and rendering it useless. 

"Emergency Protocol Activated" Log a of n droned and unleashed dozens of clawed robotic tentacles.

They shot toward Patton, claws open and sharp. 

"Bring it on—" 

"—Arnold Schwarzen-faker!" 

Remus and Roman charged past Patton with their swords drawn. Roman deflected  the tentacles with grace and fury. Remus repeatedly sliced through them, electrocuting himself over and over, laughing like a maniac until his cutlass snapped.

Patton ran to a different part of the room, away from the brothers. 

"Hey jerkface!" he shouted, "suck my dick!" The robot swiveled so the damaged core faced in his general direction. A pair of arms shot toward him. 

Patton was one jump ahead, literally. The claws slammed into the tile and crumbled it. 

Remus beamed. Frog boy could dodge, which meant the real fun could start. He glanced at Roman, who was eyeing him with mischief on his mind. 

"Hicka Bicka Boo?" Roman asked and sheathed his weapon.

"Hoosha!" Remus giggled and high-fived him. 

At least a dozen arms flew at them. 

They dove in opposite directions and rolled to their feet. 

"Dragon witch!" Roman shouted to him and veered to the left to dodge as an arm tried to grab him. 

"Hit me!" Remus laughed, constantly ducking and weaving as multiple claws reached for him. 

Roman couldn't hold still, but he could conjure a ball of fire. He could still throw it where Remus was headed.

Remus belched, releasing a burst of methane gas that ignited on contract. There were many benefits to being a marine biologist's fantasy! 

Patton jolted back, still evading capture. He was amazed at how the limbs closest to Remus shorted and went limp. 

"That's a spicy meatball!" Remus jeered and front flipped over a tentacle that tried to grab his shins. 

"Aren't you supposed to be more creative than that?!" Roman huffed and batted away a robotic arm. 

"You try thinking and dodging, Phoenix King of Getting his Butt Whooped!" Remus huffed as he leapt over a pair of arms and grabbed hold of one that was attacking from above. 

He swung on it happily letting it try to shake him off. It flailed violently, swinging around the room and bucking to dislodge him. That just gave Remus the chance to kick at the other tentacles, distracting them momentarily, if not breaking them. 

"Your attempts to render my hardware obsolete are futile—I am currently regenerati—" Log a of n droned but dropped into TV static. 

"They're doing it!" Patton cheered and bounced in place, aware of the claws coming at him head on. He jumped over them, unaware of the open claw coming for his back. 

"Cheap shot!" Remus screech and kicked the arm as he swung in Patton's direction. Patton looked back and scowled, but not at Remus. 

More tentacles erupted from the ceiling and attacked with twice the fury.

"Cease—zz—Desi—" 

"You fucking asshole!" Patton snapped and planted his feet. Roman glanced over at him as he kept deflecting every attack. The emo dad's neck was puffing up and tinted green. Remus got one look at him as he swung around and grinned. 

"Turn into the Hulk!" he cheered and tumbled to the floor. 

Patton grew until his head touched the ceiling. His skin turned green and smooth and his clothes tore. He let out a croak that shook the room. 

"Some—" Roman began, with the intent to say "Someone's pissed now!" 

"—Body once told me!" Remus cut him off, "A frog would defeat Logey!" 

"Or an A.I. that came out of his head!" Roman shot back, mildly annoyed. He realized too late that it fit Remus' lyrical pattern.

"When he locked up all his friends, didn't calculate all ends!" Remus cackled as Patton tore the limbs from the ceiling in a rage. Roman was pleased with this turn of events, and sheathed his sword. He should have expected that Patton's amphibian rage would come in handy. And Remus knew it.

"Like us breaking the Aperture testbed!" Remus continued singing gleefully as Patton tore the robotic arms apart, sending sparks flying from the broken wires. 

Roman glanced at the core as the main machine twitched and jolted, the program failing to maintain control. The ocular light flickered through the cracked lens. And then it went out. 

The arms went limp and ceased their attack. Patton took a moment to realize that. Instead of stopping, he went for the base in the center of the ceiling and tore it down. 

"Step on me Daddy!" Remus shouted and pretended to swoon. Roman glared at him, and Patton froze and shrank back to his normal size, losing his emerald hue. 

"They did it," he noted rather than acknowledge Remus. 

"We did it," Roman corrected him, "Now to make sure our darling and Virgil are unscathed." 

"And then we can celebrate! I'll catch up with you guys, I want to check something out," Remus beamed. Roman and Patton could tell that something was wrong but didn't question it.

---

(Master Post)

[blubberingmess]

[---]

Pairing: 1940s!Bucky x male!reader

Summary: It's just you having a crush on 1940s!Bucky. A prologue of a series I was working on.

Note: This is a draft I made before my chibi!Bucky. I never bothered to post it because of lack of motivation until now because I'm having a writer's block 😗✌ Also, yes, it doesn't have title, I'm sorry about that.

Warnings: cursing and very slight mention of sucking ones dick.

A low growl emits from within you as you watched Davis pushed the blonde on the pavement, the young man fell with a pained groan as he holds his side. You see, you're not the guy who likes to pick random fights on the street; not the kind of guy your ma raised you, but it's a lie if you said you don't want to punch Davis in the balls right now.

"Back at it again, I see." Both males to turn their heads at the sound of your voice. "Daddy didn't gave you attention back home? Ah," you shook your head and ducked your chin down, smirking to yourself when you saw him balling his fists.

"Who could blame him? Even I can't keep my eyes on you for two seconds." Eyes drifting off to the side with a grimace, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Atleast I have a father, (L/n). How about you? Can't keep mommy from whoring around Brooklyn?" The taller guy sneers, attention now turned towards you and completely ignored the the blonde behind him next to the crates - good.

The insult didn't falter you one bit and kept your chin up high, cocking your head to the side. "Believe in whatever you want to believe in, Davis. Atleast I'm not the one who's fucking my own mom."

His face reddens in anger, an ugly scowl on his face as he growls a menacing"Why you little" before he lunges at you. You sigh and took a step back making him punched the air instead, his large fist an inch away from your face before you took your chance and step forward, giving a quick yet strong punch square on his nose.

The blonde can only stare as Davis whimpers while pinching his nose to prevent the blood from coming out.

"You punch like a girl!"

"I'll take that as a compliment." You winked which only made Davis pinched his eyebrows together in confusion.

He scoffed. "I'm not done with you," you hissed before running out from the alley with a broken nose.

Looking up from his scratched up palms, Steve noticed you walking towards him with a worried expression on your face. It surprised the blond for it's the first time someone outside his home-- other than Bucky-- is looking at him with concern.

"Hey, you alright?" You softly asked, crouching down in front of him and gently placing your hand on his right shoulder.

Steve nodded his head and was about to thank you when he saw a large, familiar hand grasp you by the shoulder and yanked you up from your crouching position in front of Steve.

You let out a groan the moment your back hits the brick wall behind you, two hands now tightly gripping your shoulders making you slightly wince in pain. Opening your eyes, you immediately felt your face warmed up at the sight in front of you.

Such a fine young man; sharp jaws, curly dark brown hair, clean shaven, and eyes that just made you want to knee down and worship him in... different kinds of way.

Fuck, hopefully he won't noticed how your face reddens but you doubt he didn't considering the close proximity of both of your faces; an inch or two.

"Hi, can't help but notice you picking on my friend right there. Any problem here pal?" His voice is calm yet there's an absolute threat hidden behind those words. He practically hissed the last word out, eyes slightly narrowing at you.

Ignoring how intense his blue eyes are, you growled, pushing him off of you just enough to make him stumble a few feet away.

"Well y'see, I just so happened to be passing by when I saw your friend's face close to meeting Jenkins' fist and decided to be a good Samaritan and helped him," you growled. "You're welcome, pal."

The pretty guy stares at you for a moment before glancing at his friend who's now standing on his feet, nodding his head at your explanation.

"He's telling the truth, Buck."

This Buck guy averted his eyes back at you, giving you a once over. You can't help but felt your whole body stiffened at his intense look before it settled back at your eyes.

"Thanks. Sorry for pushing you up against the wall like that."

"That's okay." I don't mind.

He grins at you before outstretching his hand at your direction. "James Buchanan Barnes or you can call me Bucky, my friend here is Steve." He gestures towards the quiet blonde beside the two of you, too busy swiping off dirt on his two size too big of a coat.

So this is The James Buchanan Barnes? Not gonna lie, this guy is handsome. No wonder dames kept talking about him at work; sadly he's straight as a pole.

Your eyes flickered down on his hand then back up before grasping it with your surprisingly smaller ones, giving it a single shake before pulling away after telling him your name.

How his hand stayed outstretched mid-air for a few seconds too long than necessary didn't go unnoticed by you. You flashed him the bright smile you know that makes any dame-- and also some men-- around you sigh and swoon.

Wouldn't hurt to give it a try right?

"Nice to meet ya, Bucky. Steve" Turning to Steve, you add with a soft but stern look on your face, "Don't go around picking up fights, especially Jenkins and his goons."

"No promises, buy sure. Thanks again, (Y/n)." The blonde lightly waves at you with a thankful smile on his face.

You look at Bucky and almost laughed at the strange look on his face as he silently stares at you, eyes laced with confusion and inner conflict.

A look you knew all too well.

When Steve can't go with one of your 'pals nightly hang outs'-- as you drunkly named it-- because of his health, it'll just going be you and Bucky, which you both don't mind at all.

It's been a year since your first meeting with the two and the three of you became friends real quick, especially you and Bucky. The two learned that just like Bucky, you are also a ladies-man and it irked Steve at first but then quickly accepts that he's the 'less attractive' of the your small group of three, which you both always deny with all seriousness.

Because let's be honest, Steve is cute, people just don't see it and always judge the book by it's cover.

The two of you are currently on the roof of your house, just laughing and joking around like you usually do. The roof has been one of the best quiet place for the three of you to hang out, just drinking(you and Bucky), eating, and talking there all night.

One time Bucky and you slept on the roof while Steve is inside your room sleeping on your bed when the rain started pouring--

You felt a droplet hits your cheek, then another before you felt it all over your body. Sitting up straight-- still half-asleep-- you suddenly felt your whole body being drenched in water. Widening your eyes at the realization, you snapped your head to your side where you saw Bucky's still sound asleep and snoring.

Before a loud boom of thunder was heard, that's when he scrambles up and tugged you inside the window by your hand.

"Wake up you meatball! It's raining!" It didn't wake him up making you frustrated, but also amused.

A smack on the face woke him up, eyes opening wide and stares up at yours. You thought Bucky would quickly scramble up when he noticed the rain falling down on the both of you but no, he just stares up at you in awe; soaking wet, hair sticking on your forehead and looking down at him like... like an angel.

"Why didn't you tell me, punk?!"

"What?! I smacked you in the face three times!"

--"Wait, Is it true that your mother was..." Bucky trails off, not wanting to offend you.

"Aunt, actually. And yes she is, but not in Brooklyn though; Queens," you explained, leaning back on your arms as you look up at the stars as you continued.

"This house was my grandma's, said that she wanted to give it me for my 18th birthday. My aunt didn't know about this though, I don't let her knowing she would immediately sell this as soon as she sees the letters."

Bucky nodded his head as he listened to your story intently.

"How did ya suddenly ended up here in Brooklyn if you're from Queens? Of you don't mind me asking." Bucky side-glancing at you with curiosity. He took a bite of the sandwich you've made, clearly liking how it taste considering he already ate two of them in fifteen minutes.

You pursed your lips together, contemplating if you should tell him the truth or not - You decided to go 50/50.

"Lets just say I was kicked out for a reason she can't accept. Ever." Bucky knows not to push you, thinking it's a sensitive topic to talk about. So he decided to change it.

"Is it true though?"

You swing your gaze from the stars and to the pair of blues next to you, gulping nervously. "What?"

The brunette leans his body towards you, eyes intently locked into yours. You beg whoever is watching you right now to make your heart slow down even for just a tad bit, it's getting out of control the more he leans in.

What's he doing? Is he going to kiss you? It takes you all the willpower in your body to not smack your lips against his right this instance.

"That Davis' fucking her mother?" Bucky asked in a hushed tone, nose an inch away from yours. The question brings you back from your day dream and grimace in disgust at the mention of Jenkins. The scrunched up look on your face made Bucky grin widely, showing the faint wrinkles in the corner of his eyes.

"Step-mother," you corrected. "But who knows? The way he acts whenever I mention it gave me all the answers I need-- or don't, actually."

Even after answering his question, he still didn't lean away and kept the close distance between the two of you. Blue eyes flickering down to your lips so fast you almost didn't see it, but you did, and even saw how the tip of his tongue lightly licks his lips. It gave you a spark of hope that maybe--

"You smell like spam."

You growled and pushed him away, profusely blushing at his comment. "Get off me, punk!" Bucky started to laugh hysterically while clutching his stomach.

"Alright, no more sandwiches for you."

"Wha-- I'm only joking, shorty!"

"I'm not short! I'm an average height. You're just taller than me for like... three inches."

"Yeah yeah. Whatever you say, shorty-- ouch!"

You are glaring down at your lap while Bucky sat next to you with a frown on his face. The two of you are currently sitting on the roof, both with a forlorn look on your faces.

"Can't back up now. Been wanting to be a soldier for years now, like my pa." Did he though? He did, yes. But why do he feel reluctant about going now? Whatever, it's not like he could just quit. He'll be shipping off tomorrow morning, there's no turning back now.

"I know." You groaned, tilting your head up in exasperation. "If I wasn't so chicken-hearted I would've come with you, but being a soldier is just... not my thing."

"You could pack a hefty punch y'know. Broke not just those punks' nose but also mine three times within our six years of friendship." You knew he's just trying to lighten up the mood, but you knew better.

"Maybe the reason why I punch so hard is because of how many doughs I have to beat up and roll around every single day." You began punching the air like there's someone in front of you, laughing at your childishness before looking up at Bucky with a more genuine smile on your face.

You chuckled for both of your sake, bumping his shoulder with yours. "Yeah I did. But I much prefer baking rather than breaking random guys' noses. These hands aren't made for that sort of thing, it's too soft, too... feminine."

Lifting your hands up to emphasize your words, showing them to Bucky who just stare at your hands with a look you can't decipher.

What did he wanted to say?

You felt your breath hitched when you saw that he's already looking at you with that strange, conflicted look in his eyes again, but a bit softer this time.

He always gaze at you with that same look in his eyes and it never failed to make your heart flutter each time.

You watched as his lips open then closed a few times, not knowing how to form the words he wanted to say.

"You'll still be here when I come back right?" He widen his eyes at his own words before hastily adding, "w-with Steve, of course."

You scoffed good-naturedly at his question. "Of course you meatball. Where would I possibly go?"

You hummed, looking down at your shoes. "Can't really see myself being a father-- a husband even." Bucky furrowed his eyebrows together as you speak, confused as to why you would think such things. You're great with kids and treat ladies right like a real man should.

He shrugs. "I don't know, travel the world? Maybe even marry the woman of your dreams, have a kid or two."

Oh Bucky, you're so cute... and also freakishly dump. You're surprised for until now he still doesn't know you're gay.

You'd always stare at men longer than the pretty dames in the bar or the streets. Heck, you even flirted at Bucky from time to time but he would always tell himself that it's just you being friendly.

Joke's on you pal, I wanted to suck your dick so bad since the first time I laid my eyes on you.

Your eyes landed back up at him. "What about you, Bucky? Want to be a husband someday? A father?"

"If I make it back alive." Somehow, his truthful answer made your heart clench for two different reasons.

One, he is straight.

The small spark of hope in your heart falters to almost nothing, a sign that you should give up on this fruitless feelings of yours.

Two, he thinks he'll never make it back alive.

"If you don't, I'll go there myself and punch your in the face until you wake up."

"Of course you are, bud." You gave him the glare he's all too familiar with.

Never once a day passed with you not giving him that glare, it's quite amusing and almost comical on his opinion, like that look is just made for him and him only.

The not-so-threatening threat pulls a loud guffaw from Bucky, leaning his head back and placing a hand on his stomach. Even at times like this you somehow always manages to make him laugh, it made him realize how much he'll really miss you when has gone.

"Is that a threat, boy?" He uses the nickname hate so much, makes you feel like a child.

"Its a promise." You smirked.

Bucky shakes his head at you, scooting closer and placing his arm on your shoulders. Instinctively, you lean closer to him, but not to close though.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, watching as the street below you began buzzing with people and cars.

"Did I ever told you that you look great in that uniform?"

"A couple of times, yes."

[lastbluetardis]

@benty67​ wanted to know more about WIPs #3 (Single Parents Finished(ish) Chapters) and #4 (Single Parents Scene Dump).

The finished chapters doc is where I keep the chapter(s) I am currently writing, so that doc is more or less linearly organized. So it currently has scenes that will go in the next couple chapters. The scene dump doc is exactly what is sounds like. I don’t write strictly linearly, as my brain often sees a few late-story scenes when it’s plotting a story, so I hurriedly jot those down so I don’t forget about them. Currently, it has James and Rose’s first sexy times scene in there, along with a few late-plot scenes that I don’t want to spoil too much 😘 This doc also has my outline for the entire fic, from start to finish. Obviously I leave myself a lot of wiggle room to embellish upon certain moments in the fic (which is why this fic is already over 60k words and James and Rose haven’t kissed yet 😂🤦‍♀️)

Snippet from Finished(ish) Chapters doc:

“Y’know, I can take her back to free up your hands,” Rose said, inclining her head to the drowsy infant nuzzled up to his chest. 

He couldn’t help but glance down at Jodie. He caught a whiff of her intoxicating baby scent and couldn’t help but chase the smell. He tucked his nose to her scalp and breathed her in deeply, then kissed her. She gurgled and shuffled in his arms before settling again.

“Nope, you’re not getting out of this lesson that easily,” he said, rubbing the baby’s back. “Since my hands are busy, you’re in charge of meal prep.”

Rose rolled her eyes, but a grin tugged at the corner of her lips. “All right then. Lay it on me.”

James talked her through mixing together the simple ingredients, then slathering the herby garlic butter mixture atop the halved French bread.

“See! Easy peasy,” he crowed when she successfully popped the baking sheet into the oven. “Definitely something to add to your cooking repertoire. It’s simple and quick, and most kids love it as long as it isn’t too garlicky. Right. While that has its turn in the oven, we’re gonna prepare the meatballs.”

Snippet from Scene Dump doc:

James’s hands were everywhere; they skated across her back and belly, the nape of her neck and her hips as he pulled her closer. His lips devoured hers, his tongue mapping out the contours of her mouth with each new kiss. When he’d drunk his fill at her lips, he moved lower.

“We’ll have to have more sleepovers,” James murmured, his voice at her ear sending shivers down her spine. 

“No arguments from me,” she replied, her voice somewhat faint.

He planted a kiss to her neck before threading their fingers together and tugging her down the hall to her bedroom. Rose was giddy with nervous excitement as she followed, closing the door behind them. The snick of the lock that promised privacy was all it took for the desire from their kiss in the kitchen to rekindle. For him, too, evidently, as he stepped into her, pressing her back against the door as he ducked his head and caught her lips in a kiss.

Sensation sparked through her, heating her blood in her veins and sending it south. Her pulse throbbed between her legs, urging her to pull him closer. It had been so long since Rose felt this kind of need; she’d forgotten how intoxicating it was, how addictive it was to be pressed so intimately against another person.

The kisses shared between herself and James had been mostly chaste up until then, but with the children asleep and with them alone in her bedroom, they each let go of their reservations, holding nothing back.

Thanks for asking about these!

curious about my wips?

[lovemesomesurveys]

How are you doing today? It’s only 1:56AM, but so far I’ve just ate a bowl of ramen and watched a couple YouTube videos. What was the best thing that happened to you today? My ramen was quite delicious, ha. Which cell phone network are you on? Verizon. Do you like the smell of cinnamon? Yesss. What was the last book you've read? I just finished, “The Secret She Kept” by Elle Gray and I’ve started, “Autumn’s Strike” by Mary Stone.

Are you hungry right now? No, I just finished eating. What was the last thing you've had to drink? Water. How often do you visit this website? I’m on Tumblr all the time. Do you like frogs? No. Are you afraid of dying? Yes. Do you like bananas? I love bananas.    Do you like the show American Dad? Meh. It has its moments, but overall I’ll pass. I don’t ever watch it by my own choosing, I just catch it here and there because my family watches it.  What TV show do you miss the most that's no longer on TV? Gilmore Girls, Degrassi, and True Blood come to mind first. Are you currently fighting with someone right now? No. Is your life full of drama? No. I have other stressful things I’m dealing with, but not of the drama variety. How long can you hold your breath underwater *shrug* Where's the last place you've been to out of state? When I went to Arizona to visit my grandparents about 6 years ago. Have you ever been kissed in the rain? No. What letter does your last name start with. -- What are you listening to right now? I’m watching Gilmore Girls. Have you ever had a pet that died? Yes. Would you rather use a trackpad or a mouse? Trackpad. Do you consider yourself politically intelligent? No, not at all. Have you ever done any volunteer work? Yeah, I’ve done a lot with Girl Scouts, school clubs, and class assignments. Do you like the Beatles? I like some songs. Is it night time where you're at right now? Yeah, it’s 2:08AM. Do you like steak? Nope. Do you eat healthy? No, I definitely don’t. How often do you work out? I don’t. What was the best gift you've ever received? I couldn’t possibly choose. Have you ever participated in a spelling bee? Nope. If you could have one wish right now, what would it be? Good health. Do you owe anyone an apology right now? I kind of do. Are you the jealous type of person? I can be, but it’s not something I feel much. Or at least haven’t felt in a long time. I feel envy more. Have you ever tried doing yoga? Nah. Do you like getting massages? I’ve never gotten one. Would you rather be too hot or too cold? Cold. Are you good at telling jokes? No, I’m pretty much the worst. I don’t tell many jokes. When was the last time you've attended a sleepover? Several years ago. Tell me one of your pet peeves. Eating sounds. Do you wear glasses? I do. Do you like to keep your nails painted? I haven’t painted my nails for the past few years. Have you ever had a pedicure? Nope.  What is your favorite smell? I have several favorites. Do you like the TV show Full House? I do. Would you rather listen to country music or rap music? I like both. Are you a Duck Dynasty fan? Nope. Have you graduated high school yet? Uh, yeah, back in 2008.  What kind of person were you in middle school? Quiet, shy, awkward. Nothing has changed. Do you have any major regrets in your life? I have a few. :/ Do you like pixie sticks? Eh. I did as a kid, but I don’t have much interest in them the older I get. Do you like French toast? Mmm, yes. Are you a fast typer? I am. Are you good at doing math in your head? Nope. Or at all. Have you ever played with Silly Putty? Yeah. Do you take in a lot of caffeine daily? I do. I love my caffeine. Do you like watching Football? Nope. Or an sport. What language do you wish you could speak? Spanish. Do you know a lot about history? No, I wouldn’t say that. If we could travel back in time, where would you travel to? Can I travel back to childhood? Would you ever consider joining the military? No. I couldn’t anyway, I’m physically disabled. Are you a cigarette smoker? No. Have you ever done something you didn't want to just to look cool? That’s kind of how it was when I used to drink and smoke. I wasn’t a big drinker or smoker, only did so socially, but still. I also did so on my own accord, I’m not blaming anyone, and I’m not going to say I hated all of it because I did have good times, but there was a big part of me that did so because I felt I had to. My friends liked to do it and I wanted to partake with them and not sit out on the sidelines by myself. It’s just that truth be told I think I would have rarely drank at all if it weren’t for that and likely would have never smoked. It had its fun moments, but I didn’t feel the need to partake all the time like they did. Do you like zombie movies? Nah. Have you seen The Hunger Games? Yep, all of ‘em. Do you have a favorite piece of clothing? All my graphic tees, t-shirt dresses, leggings, and lounge shorts. All my comfy clothes, basically. Do you own any Uggs? Nope. Are you wearing any rings on your fingers? No. Name a TV show that you absolutely can't stand. Most sitcoms today. Do you have any unusual talents? No. Or any kind of talent. Do you look like your age? *shrug* I’ve been told I look younger. Do you feel confident in a bathing suit? Nooo. Do you do a lot of online shopping? I do. Do you like the Harry Potter films? Yeah. Do you judge people based on their sexual orientation? No. I care about who a person is, their personality, and whether we vibe. Have you ever been told you had an accent? No. Have you ever ridden an elephant? Nope. Are you allergic to pollen? I do have seasonal allergies. Have you ever eaten sushi? Ew, yes. Not a fan. If so, do you like it? Nope. Are you a fan of anime? No. Would you rather play Xbox or Playstation? Playstation. Are you a big fan of seafood? I don’t like seafood at all. What kind of food are you craving right now? I’m good right now. Are you currently in a relationship? No. If not, are you happy being single? Yeah, it’s for the best. Do you like to go fishing? No. Are you a fast runner? I used to be. I don’t have the energy or strength anymore for that.

Have you ever worked at a fast food place? Nope. What's on your mind right now? Now I’m thinking about food cause of some of the previous questions. Are you texting anyone as you're taking this survey? No. Have you ever had a nasty rumor spread about you? No. Have you ever sent someone sexual pictures of yourself? No. Do you like who you are on the inside or the outside more? Neither. :/ Are you good at drawing? No, I have no artistic abilities. Do you know how to dance? Nope. What's your favorite reality TV show? Catfish, Teen Mom OG, Teen Mom 2, The Voice... Do you think Kim Kardashian deserves to be famous? I don’t care. Are you excited for Christmas this year? I’m always excited for Christmas. Do you celebrate Halloween? I mean, I put up some decor, watch scary movies, and partake in treats. I stopped dressing up and carving pumpkins a few years ago. Have you ever had a concussion? No. Do you pretend to be someone you're not? No. I certainly wouldn’t pretend to be... *gestures vaguely* this. Do you listen to heavy metal music? No. Were you sad when Michael Jackson died? I was just surprised. Do you have more upper or lower body strength? I barely have any strength anymore it feels like, but I used to have really great upper body strength. Have you ever been in a tanning bed? No, and never want to be. Do you like hot tubs? No. Do you know anyone who is battling cancer? No. Have you ever donated money to a charity? Yes. Do you get bored easily? More so nowadays. I didn’t used to. Have you ever peed your pants in public? Maybe as a little kid. Are you afraid of roller coasters? Yes, except for the Cars and Big Thunder Mountain Railroad roller coasters at Disneyland. Are you good at doing tongue twisters? Not really. What was the last movie you've seen in theatres? Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings. Have you ever been to a drive-in movie? Yeah, a few times but it’s been a long time. I’ve been wanting to go to one, though. Are you good at doing fractions? Meh. I’m alright. Me and math don’t get along, but I could do some things somewhat. What is your favorite holiday? Christmas and Halloween. Do you prefer Apple or Android? Apple. Would you rather have a tablet or a computer? Computer. Do you like things that are touch screen? Yeah. What age did you have your first kiss at? 16. Do you regret losing your virginity to whoever you lost it to? I’m still a virgin. Do you have a good relationship with your mother? Yes. Do you like the color lime green? Sure. What are your plans for tomorrow? I don’t have any. Would you rather wear jeans or yoga pants? Yoga pants. Do you like your clothes to be baggy and comfortable or tight and revealing Baggy and comfy. Do you wish you could change something about your hair? Yeah, it’s really not a good look right now. I pretty much chopped it off a couple months ago for reasons and it’s in that awkward phase as it grows out. I want it to be longer and dyed red again because currently it’s all natural and I don’t like it. Have you ever gotten a makeover? Yeah. Do you get mad easily? No. but I get frustrated and irritable easily. Have you ever punched someone in the face? No. Do you think the minions from Despicable Me are cute? Ehh. Did you have a Gameboy as a child? I did. Would you rather have chocolate or gummy worms? Chocolate. I’m not a gummy fan. What are your favorite pizza toppings? Extra cheese, garlic, green onions, spinach, cilantro, crushed meatballs, and pesto. Have you ever auditioned for a talent competition? No. I don’t have any talent. Do you make good sandwiches? I think theyr’e better from a deli or when my mom makes them haha but sure. Would you rather get high or get drunk? High. Have you ever failed a drug test? Nope. Do you like the Silent Hill movies? I actually haven’t seen them. What is one thing you need to work on to make yourself a better person? I have a few things I need to work on.

[mysterioh]

The Ignorant Beauty and The Beast of New York - Chapter 3

PAIRING: MOB!STEVE ROGERS X READER

SYNOPSIS: Y/N is an exhausted bio major. Steve is danger with a capital DANGER. She thinks he’s a sarcastic prick with an impressive knowledge in art history. He thinks she’s cute even if she’s only running on one brain cell. All he wants is a single date, but she’s adamant upon denying.

Masterlist

We Meet Again My Love

It was rush hour on E 52nd. Two lines of steel and tire, each one tailgating the one in front with disgruntled city folk inside waiting for even an inch of movement. At the junctions, cars weaved into the traffic as seamlessly as a shuffled deck of cards only adding to the frustration of those already on the packed street. Especially, the frustration of one mobster.

The rain softly falling from a thick blanket of gray above provides a sort of peace in the middle of such tedious traffic. Steve looks at the raindrops racing down the window of his black Mercedes AMG, his chin propped up on his hand and elbow resting on the side of the door. His patience wearing thin with every motionless minute that passed. At least he kept himself busy with his thoughts wandering off to the mystery girl from the museum.

Secretly, he'd do anything to meet her again. She plagued his every thought, veering him from his work and making him lose all his focus in anything and everything he did. He hated it but never tried to stop it.

He was on the way for a job with Bucky in the driver's seat and Sam in the passenger. There was a sleek Cadillac in front of them and one behind for backup as if he was the damn president.

It was a simple job. Threaten the pastry chef down on 54th for paying up what he borrowed four months ago. Probably break a few things and stick the meatball’s head in a coffee grinder for good measure. A lot easier than most tasks and definitely not needing three luxury cars filled with notorious mobsters to finish, but then again the kingpin was never shy to boast just how powerful he was. Not to mention, he wasn’t much of a fan of doing the dirty work.

“Steve?” Bucky called. Steve hummed a response, turning his towards him. “We’re here,”  he says.

“Took long enough,” Steve clicks his tongue. “You know what to do,” he tells his friend. The man nods with Sam getting out of the car. “Take the guys in the back and make sure to take the kid with you this time. ”

Sam growls quietly. “Is that really necessary?” he questioned with his head ducked into the car. “The kid’s a troublemaker.”

Steve’s eyes flit towards him and Sam was starting to regret what he said. They were friends since high school. Steve saw Sam the same way he saw Bucky; as a brother. And treated him as such. They smoked cigars and drank liquor during Sunday football. They dragged Bucky down to the depths of hell for his lengthy history of psycho girlfriends. But when it came to the matter of the business, Steve wasn’t a friend to him or anyone else. He was his boss and his orders were firm.

"'The kid ain't so bad," Steve said pulling a box of cigarettes out from his coat pocket. "I owe his auntie a favor so do as I say and show the boy what a good Brooklyn beating looks like."

Sam sighs with a nod and closes the door behind him.

“Don't worry," Bucky chimes in. "We'll take the kid," he says, unable to hide his own distaste. "I'll send him to get you when we're done."

Steve lights his cigarette as Bucky gets out of the car. Sam hollers at Clint coming out of the car from behind, telling him to bring the boy with him.

"C'mon, Pete," Clint hissed at the teen. "We don't got all day!"

"Yes, sir!" Peter squeaks getting out of the car and running to catch up with them. He was around the age of nineteen but looked like he belonged in the ninth grade. A bit short and skinny with pale skin - paler than usual today .

Steve watches how the boy follows the rugged men towards the shop. Sticking out like a dandelion in a cluster of weeds. He chuckles at the way Peter frantically nods at what they're telling him. His eyes alert and footsteps light. So light that he ends up tripping over himself and into Bucky.

Bucky smacks him on the back of the head, scolding him for being stupid.

"Quit playing around, kid!" Bucky snaps at him. "The boss is watching ya!"

Peter gulps, bobbing his head up and down while rubbing the back of his head before following them inside. Steve shakes his head while exhaling a puff of smoke. The boy reminded him of himself from a long time ago. The first time his old man took him out on a job. God bless his father's resting soul.

You inhaled the sweet aroma rising from the cup in your hands. Already tasting the saccharine flavor of French Vanilla on your tongue.

The tiny cafe huddled between the high rise buildings on 54th was the best place for some quality coffee and study time. You never understood how the place could be so empty when they had the best service.

It could have been the outward appearance that gave it a bad connotation especially on a droll, rainy winter day like today. Washed out underneath an overcast sky, it hunched in on itself, fighting against the cold rain. Hundreds of people rushed by it, out on the crowded street never giving the poor thing a chance.

If even one ventured to come inside, they would understand just how charming the tiny shop was. Warm and cheery in its aura and its employees with bright lights and colorful walls. Not to mention in its sweet smells of hot coffee and freshly-baked pastries.

Sometimes the best places in the city were the ones no one knew anything about. And you came to the conclusion that it was a good thing. The less people knew of this place the less crowded it would be. The less crowded it was meant that it’d be quieter. The quieter it was made it an even more ideal spot for studying biological mechanisms.

Unfortunately, today was a bad day to study at the cafe on what would have seemed to be an overall good day. Not even a second after you cracked open your notebook, a group of grisly men with guns slammed the door open and walked in, demanding to see the owner of the cafe.

The men were ruthless and destructive, breaking everything that came in their way. Purposefully dropping the cups and plates on the counter to the ground and flipping over tables.

The shop was empty with only you and another customer, an old man reading the newspaper by the window.

You froze in the corner, not knowing what to do. Your heart pounding against your chest and breathing heavy. You could make a run for it but there was a good chance the guy with the long hair would catch you easily.

The men didn't seem to care about the two bystanders, barely even noticing the two of you. Their goal was the head and there was no need for them to drag in the innocent. So you decided to stay put until action was needed.

The owner, Manny, was dragged out of the kitchen by one of the men.

Manny fell at the feet of the brunette who seemed to be the leader. His face twisted in fear and covered in sweat.

"Been a while, Manny, how’s it been?” Bucky asks. “Been missing ya.”

“Please,” Manny begs, his voice strained. “I’ll pay you back just give me some time!”

Bucky clicks his tongue. “You’ve been saying that for four months now, fatass.” He pulls Manny up by the collar. “Ya know how much the boss hates being lied to,” he seethes.

“I know, I know,” Manny nods like a maniac.

“I don’t think you do, buddy,” he shakes his head with a twisted grin, placing his gun underneath his chin. “The big guy is real pissed that you dipped on him and took his money on top of that. So pissed that he decided to come all the way over here to see ya.”

Manny swallows with the color draining from his face.

“Hey kid, go get the boss,” Clint orders Peter.

He nods and dashes out the door to get the boss leaving all of them in horrifying anticipation. He returns in a few minutes opening the door and letting in another man. Taller with broader shoulders and a very familiar face.

Your skin pales at the sight of the freak from the museum.

“You!” you blurt out, pointing at him and making all eyes turn on you.

Steve turns his head and his eyes light up.

Mean Gangster Mode Deactivated

“Rosalind Franklin!” Steve smiles at you, walking past the chaos and towards you in the corner. “How’s it going? How’d your paper go?”

You stare at him confused. “Y-you’re a gangster!” you yelled, pointing at him.

"Gangster's a bit vulgar don't you think?” Steve shrugged.

"You're a fucking criminal!" you emphasized in shock.  

Bucky’s gun drops to his side, but his grip on the pastry chef remains tight. His eyes flit towards Steve then Sam then Clint. The latter two asking the same silent question with their eyes.

"Damn, that hurt me right here,” Steve frowned playfully, pointing to his heart. “After all, I’ve done to help you? This is the thanks I get?”

“I never asked for your help,” you spat at him.

“Right, the whole DNA thing again,” he said. “You know, Rosy, I was really bummed out when you ditched me at the museum that day. Stripped me bare of my words and left me all alone without a goodbye. That’s cold, sweetheart.”

“My name isn’t Rosy,” you snapped at him. “And are you mental or something? Why in the world would I drink coffee with a stranger!”

“Then what’s your real name?” Steve asked, stepping into your space. His head leaning towards you with a loose strand of hair falling in front of his ocean blue eyes. His hand is flat against the wall behind you, caging you in from one side to keep his balance.

You have never been this close to a man before. Especially one so effortlessly handsome and dangerous. He licks his lower lip with a sharp smile and you gulp speechlessly.

He was dressed formally. A three-piece suit that looked very expensive, probably costing more than your scholarship. You can see the way his muscles bulge under his coat. He most definitely did not pad his suits. There’s a strong urge within you, pushing you to place your hand on his chest.

Just for a second. Just to see if a man this perfect actually existed.

You could smell the strong, crisp scent of cologne coming off of him and its intoxicatingly addictive, pulling you closer into his temptation.

“I’d really love to get to know you more,” he crooned.

His voice was so tender and earnest and you didn’t understand why. Neither did he. Sure he’s seen a billion pretty faces in the past, but for some reason, yours won’t leave his head. Yeah, he only met you last week without even a single detail but damn, did he want to learn all the explicit intricacies that created you. Maybe he was going mental.

“I’ve been thinking about you lately,” he confesses. Your cheeks heat up and the tips of your ears light up. “You’re always stuck in my head,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I don’t know what it is about you, but you got me runnin’ in circles.”

His subordinates looked at him confused as if he wasn’t the mob boss but some lovesick teenager. You tried to speak, but nothing came out.

“You’re nuts!”

Steve laughs heartily while standing straight. “I had the feeling that’s how you’d react.”

“You can’t just say stupid stuff like that!” you scolded him. “You don’t even know me!”

“All the more reason for us to have a coffee together!” Steve suggested. “And how convenient for us to be in a cafe.” He turns around towards Sam still holding the owner of the shop with a gun to his head. “Hey, Manny, can I get a table for two?”

The man nods slowly while in a chokehold.

“Great,” Steve nods and looks around the place. “God, this place is a fucking mess.” He places his hands on his hips and turns towards you. “Tell you what, how about we ditch this joint and go down to this real classy place on Hyde Ave?”

“I’m not going anywhere with an ugly dirty mobster,” you spat at him, pushing past him and grabbing your bag. You strut past the others who were still frozen in confusion and impressed by your boldness.

Steve grins at your insult. “A pretty face and a sharp tongue?” he said, following behind. “You’re a girl after my own heart.”

“I don’t want your heart,” you snapped at him. “Or anything to do with you. Stay the hell away from me and it’ll do you some good!” you threatened before turning on your heel and pushing past the door.

Steve watches your retreating form with an even wider grin and giddy excitement in his chest. Playing hard to get I see. Mark my words, sweetheart, I’ll win this game. My name isn’t Steve Rogers for nothing!

“Uh, boss?” Clint asked from behind. “Who was that?”

Steve turns to look at him with a coy grin and the distant sound of wedding bells ringing in his ears.

"The future Mrs. Rogers."

[alovevigilante]

Me: Ok. I’ve made an executive decision on behalf of all of us...

Me also: are you an executive?

Me: yes.

Me also: at what company?

Me: ours. Yours and mine.

Me 3: and mine too!

Me: yes, at threes company, ok? Will you just listen to me? (The other me’s sit, silent) thank you. Now, we have all come to terms with the fact that we’re 46 and still not sure where the hell we fit in in society, let alone a career to help aid it, right?

Other me’s: yes, Agreed, (hub hub etc...)

Me: ok, good. Well, not good, but yes, we all concur. Now, we, collectively, are a fucking mess, so I propose this: we start from scratch. At zero point, ok? Ok! Great!

Me also: um, question?

Me: yes?

Me also: I don’t mean to be a contrarian or anything, but we’ve been here on earth now for 46 years, and we’ve experienced a butt ton. So, how do you just scrap it all, and have that be something that’s widely accepted by society as a whole?

Me 3: yeah! Cause I saw this one “I love Lucy” where she couldn’t even audition for a tv show without having some experience.

Me: yeah, but we’re completely walking away from the entertainment industry...

Me also: yeah, but what are we going to do? Walk into a different profession, let’s say, being an astrophysicist, and they say, “hey lady, where are your degrees and your on the job training, & oh, I see here on your non resume that you have never even taken a physics class. Were you in a coma for 50 years or something?” And then we’ll look like an asshole.

Me: good point. So, since we can’t start at a zero point, how do we make life ok from where we’re at if we’re feeling lost and confused about what to do next?

Me 3: I dunno.

Me also: well, maybe we can mediate.

Me: eh. You feel like that?

Me 3: not particularly. Me also?

Me also: I was hoping one of you would do it for me...

Me: no.

Me 3: no.

Me also: fine. Any other ideas?

Me: well... how about thinking about shit.

Me also: that’s what got us in this mess to begin with!

George Carlin: hello ladies! May I be of some assistance here?

Me 3: why not? We’re plum out of ideas...

George: ok, well, let’s simplify a bit, Kari, singular, let’s chat.

Kari: hey George.

George: love the pic you choose to rep me.

Kari: yeah. You’re being a lil Italian when you talk with the garlic clove shaped hand you got going there. 🤌 🧄 🇮🇹

George: Yeah. I’m diggin it. But you know, in your mind, I’m one of the reasons you’re here in this ass place.

Kari: you are? how do you figure?

George: people don’t like the fact that you write on behalf of the deceased.

Kari: well, Tim burton did it in beetle juice and a lot of folks love him..

George: ok Kari, can I be Frank... Sinatra-like with you?

Kari: I dunno, can you?

George: yeah. Just pretend I’m sporting a fedora, a cigarette in one hand, and throwing my jacket back over my shoulder with the other looking at you coyly.

Kari: ok... if you want to... but is the cigarette in his pocket? Cause if it’s lit, that shits gonna hurt his Netherlands eventually....

George: (like Sinatra) no. Now listen up, baby, it’s not normal to write on behalf of a dead person that was not a character, and that whom was once alive. People get touchy about it. We have friends still alive that knew us and probably don’t dig it.

Kari: I see.

George: so it seems like we’re at a crossroads here. What do you want to do about it?

Kari: do about what?

George: your writing! It’s freakin everyone out! Kari, look, you know how normal Hollywood is, ok? They are all normal, non creative, in the box gladly thinker kinda people...

Kari: they are?

George: yes!!! Come on, keillor, get with the program! You are too far fetched for these folks! They want normalcy, and sameness, and only all the shit that’s ever been shat!

Kari: George, are we talking about Hollywood California, here? Or Hollywood podunk nah? Because Hollywood California is where all the creatives go to create!

George: right! And guess what, Kari Keillor! You are not welcomed in Hollywood, California! They have a sign up with your picture on it at the airport that says, “beware! No to this woman! Too much with the weirdness! She writes dead people!”

Kari: I write live people too... hey, do I have a cowboy hat and a mustache on for my mugshot on that sign?

George: nice one Cookie Monster! Well, Keillor why not?! You may as well, because this story has as much validity as any other story you make up and make worse in your head cause you’re sensitive about of your writing...

Kari: you’re the one that said all that shit! You planted it in my head!!!

George: so I did, but remember, I’m a facet of you. So, decide. Is there any validity to what I/you said?

Kari: how the hell should I know?! I haven’t been in lax recently...

George: right! So you never know until you try talking to some people.

Kari: I’ll call the airport... Listen, George, I’ll be perfectly Frank Sinatra with you now, ok.?

Don rickles: no mere woman can be like ole blue eyes...

Kari: Shut your misogynistic, ass-kissing pie hole, Pickles.

Pickles rickles: oh fuck... she does it to me every time...

Frank Sinatra:, you tell him, baby!

Kari: I’m 46. (Back to George Carlin) Anyway, look George, I have had a few successful people from my entertainment past either shun or block me for no apparent reason, so I’m pretty sure that I’m not well received again, for whatever reason... probably because I wrote the truth about a second city class I took when I was 16, about the current state of snl which I am completely unfamiliar with because I do not watch it, and the way comedy has changed or not over the last many years. Come to think of it, maybe it was because I love frank oz, and frank was mad cause I wrote that belushi John was teasing him and calling him an asshole, another ironic statement because clearly frank oz, NOT an asshole, was many of the muppets for years, and Frank is one of my idols! (Not a true central religious figure to me, but someone I admire a lot...)

Frank Sinatra: who loves ya, baby??

Kari: (to Frank) kojak. (Back to herself) Or it could be because i called bill murray, the beloved patron saint of comedy, an asshole like me, yes, I said like ME, out of jest and irony, because yes, he cared about the kid in meatballs making friends, ok?! That’s probably it. & yes, i was kinda stoned when I wrote it, and also yes, I still can’t figure out why the movie was ducking named “meatballs”, cause there wasn’t an Italian to be seen in it! Ok?! And come to think of it bill as Peter venkman in ghostbusters 2, written in part, by him I think but let’s just say yes cause it supports my point, called all of New York City and it’s tri state area, all 3 million people, miserable assholes, and they took a head count, & they still (probably mostly) all love him! & that shit was good (I love that movie so much) and it was made in 1989, and that was a long ass time ago, ok? And some of those people, have procreated since then, and again, they all love bill Murray and now those “miserable asshole’s” kids, ALSO love Bill now! Double the miserable assholes! Why?! Because he’s funny, and much like me when I’m being tongue and cheek, he didn’t mean for people to take the shit he says seriously! See for yourself! https://youtu.be/t1gkRAWvxOs (1:15 on)

So yes!!! I just think people are not into that kind of talk from me and me alone, even though it wasn’t coming from a mean or spiteful place. It was coming from a place of love for my craft, and of both frank oz, and bill Murray. The rest, as I say once again... I dunno....

George: Kari, frank just told you he loves you, and you blatantly ignored him...

Kari: no, he asked who loved me. He didn’t say he loved me.

George: Keillor, stop being so mean to the dead crooners, ok?

Kari: pickles isn’t a crooner! He’s a ye olde well paid curmudgeon who made fun of everyone like a jerk fach.

George: um, Kari...

Kari: no, ok? No! The difference between me and pickles, besides everything under the sun other than the fact we’re both human, is the fact that I am pointing out the obvious hypocrisy of the way we are set up as society, and wanting to heal it within myself to make it a more palatable world for me and my family and friends and acquaintances to live in. And pickles thought making fun of people was ok. What royal lineage did pickles come from that he’s able to rip on everyone the way he did? And even if he was of a royal bloodline so fucking what?! And dude got paid to be mean! And normal people made him rich and famous! And how did that become prevalent, let alone celebrated in this world?! Roast em! Yes! Hilarious.

Dean Martin: oh noooo... hey, listen pally...

Kari: dean, don’t get me started, ok? Cause I like you, I really do, but you know how I feel about that shit... Listen, Dean, you left a legacy here that was mostly great, but in my opinion needs a lil tweaking. Instead of “roasts” which people do to this day, and I can’t see how it can make the honoree feel anything other than like major ass, we should have “toasts” (copyright Kari keillor 3/19/21 actually before this date but I never published publicly...)

Pickles rickles: toasts?!? What is THAT supposed to mean?!

Kari: it means, my curious lil ornery pickles, that instead of roasting someone and being a mean rotter egg to them, you can “toast” them. Cheers to you, honoree, we salute you, in a hilarious way, by being honest about you but not vicious, viper like, and cruel. It’s where everyone laughs together cause it’s not a character assassination, instead of ripping on someone. It’s being funny, and yes, in a KIND and uplifting way. Where you actually celebrate the person being honored. Now, will that take a lil more brain power then the go-to usual jerk fach? Yes. But, it’s a challenge I hope everyone will accept for the good of all of us. Cause I guarantee that no one walks out of a roast feeling great. And if they do, cause they thought they killed or whatever, they probably did. And not in a good way. And that, again, is ass. No one wins. It’s a short lived feeling, the feeling of “one upping” a person. It never makes you feel better about you in the long run.

Dean: I see. I think I’ll go work on my volare now...

Kari: see?!? Now THAT I like! It’s not at anyone’s expense!

George: oh shit.... kari.... Why do you give a fuck about all this?

Kari: you know why George? Cause this has become our accepted collective energy! The haves and the have nots! Take away your money and what have you got?! Who are you, without the people who have made you who you are?! People, make other people in the 3D reality we live in. So take away everyone’s cash money, homes, clothes, and all the cars, and all the shit, and what do ya got? A bunch of naked humans starring at our different body bits, ok?! We’re All the f’n same. So think about it. What are we each individually contributing energetically to the whole of us? What message are we sending the next generations In our every day lives? I’ll tell you what message. Whatever we feel about ourselves individually both good and bad. THAT’S what energy we all give, and receive from one another. That’s what we’re teaching the kids. They model themselves after how we feel, and how we choose to think, and how we decide to act toward others. So let’s all collectively recognize that, and how we treat other human beings and wake up first inside ourselves then beyond ourselves so we can all make the whole, better.

I am not an asshole or a human joke or any other kind of joke. I’m not going to cry over the fact that I’m not accepted by people who’s energies don’t match mine. And by the by, no one is a joke, no matter who they are, or what their socioeconomic standing is. So I don’t wear an ascot and a smoking jacket, and a neck full of gold chains and chest hair, holding a whiskey on the rocks with an umbrella in it saying “see that?! be somebody!” ok?! I’m not Steve Martin in the jerk, ok? https://youtu.be/tBfXTyzaUfQ

I’m not even close to Hollywood! I live in the Midwest! I’m Kariwood, ok? And I’m not even kari wood, I’m no woods, ok? cause I’m pretty much never in the woods or the outdoors for that matter, so much so that I just purchased a sweatshirt that says, “indoorsy” on it, ok? True story! So yeah. Cause one time I was in Wisconsin in the woods, and I was thinking, “look at me! I’m in the woods! Weird, no?!” (Cause never in the woods, but I thought, I’ll give it a shot! What’s the worst that can happen?) And guess what? Despite my shower the night before, I felt something on the base of my skull the next morning, and I picked out a really nasty, creepy and scary tick. And it was alive, and disgusting, and wiggly. And I started screaming. And I am still freaked out to this day about it. And that happened at least 17 years ago. And I didn’t like it. So that’s how “non woods-y” I am... I’m not even a fan of woodsy the owl, ok?

So I don’t know how I feel about all that. All this to say that I am definitely not Hollywood, but yes, I am included, as a “somebody”. I may not be an award winning, keillor, but I am still somebody, and I may not be rich and famous, but yes, I am somebody, and I may have been on one trajectory and now I do t know what the heck I am now, ok? It’s true, and yes, I’ve posted this before and I’ll keep posting it until everyone in me gets on board with it, yes! I am still somebody because yes, dear me, we are all this: somebody! : https://youtu.be/tu0lNcrZjG8

George: hard to argue with that.

Kari: eh. You know what I am, George?

George: yes, Kari. I know what you are. But do you?

Kari: well, I feel, like I’m one of those kids on Sesame Street sometimes, looking up at and intently listening to Jesse Jackson, wondering how to get from small to big, and from where I am, to the success that he reps, you know? The importance of being admired by many. Having a big platform to play on. A huge soapbox to stand on, you know?

George: yes. I get it, Kari, I really do. And we’ve all been there. But everyone’s story about themselves, is different. How we all got to where we are, was our own personal trajectory that we designed with our beliefs. And our thoughts. There’s no set pattern or manual to follow. The only energy you must follow, is your passion and your joy, aka the love. That’s it. So, if you want to be, and decide to be, you ARE Hollywood,. Because Hollywood isn’t a specific person or group of people, it’s a place, and an energy. Hollywood is what you make it to be with how you view it. You don’t have to “be” Hollywood to be in Hollywood...

Kari: you said I wasn’t allowed in Hollywood..

George: you may not be. All I’m saying, is that you are whatever you decide you are. The end.

Kari: well, am I or not? Cause I don’t want to go and be turned away. Besides, I love visiting olvera st.

George: Its a fine street, it is. Great margaritas... listen Kari, you cannot achieve anything in this life that you don’t truly believe is in the realm of your possibility. So yes! You can be, and pretty much are are Hollywood keillor, even if it’s in the Midwest in your own home.. You are creative, and love the arts, and are nutsy, and ballsy, and you may hold the title as being the first person to ever separate the two, and bring them back together in a scote sack, ok? So keep writing, and be yourself.

Kari: I dunno. But what I do know is this: I did it again...

George: did what?

Kari: reactivated all the shit memories and feelings from the past that I’ve felt about my career, allowing myself to relive all those fun feels of inadequacy and upset alllll over again.

George: aww, it’s happened to the best of us. Listen Kari, you are, in my humble not so humble opinion, since I’m still you, a loving person. So you reflect that way; with humor, and yes, absurdist, surreal comedy.

Kari: well, I’ll try.

George: You already do. Your credentials are superfluous. Your love and support of you no matter what you do moving forward is what you’ll feel when you choose to, and it’s available anytime you want to feel it. And when you feel that, it really doesn’t matter what you do.

Kari: ok, well, thanks George. It’s nice to know I have you around.

George: Kari, you were once told that you are golden, no?

Kari: well, I was told that I’ll be golden at some point moving forward doing whatever it is I choose to do.

George: right. So, when are you going to decide to experience that?

Kari: hopefully soon.

George: Kari, why do you chop to talk to and write about us “passed over folk”?

Kari: I dunno. I guess it’s cause I love and miss you guys in theory, even though I didn’t know you personally. And I like to re-experience your energy, as I appreciated and admired it. It helps me feel better.

George: you’re now golden.

Scene.

Appendices: if you choose to perform this scene, good luck. I’d like you to do it all in one breath, if you are a more advanced, and professional actor. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣💕💕💕💕

[ilovejared]

Day 12: Gifted (Mature)

God was dead—or, neutralized, at least, and somehow Darkness and Death being at the wheel had brought the world—or, universe or, multiverse or, whatever-the-hell—something like peace.

Dean took off for a last supply run. Everyone was coming over: Cas of course, Donna and Jody and Jody’s girls, bunch of the hunters from Michael’s world, Aiden and Krissy, Josephine, Eileen… even Donatello was crawling up out of his prophet-hole for Christmas dinner.

So, Sam had the Bunker all to himself on Christmas Eve. Gas-station presents wrapped in their traditional Sunday funnies sat under the tree. White twinkle lights and silver tinsel sparkled on the boughs. Red ribbon and green garland—“It’s called Winchester pine, Sammy! We have to!”—wound around the stair rail.

Place smelled like peppermint and pumpkin pie. Sam’s boots thumped the tiles, rang loud in the quiet before, between the chaos. 

Dean had the kitchen laid out just-so. But Sam could execute his plan without disturbing much. Big pot for boiling water. Baking dish. Mason jar of farmer’s market pasta sauce and Dean’s homemade, three-meat, grilled meatballs from the freezer. Sam set about heating, seasoning and assembling. Basil, fresh from the Bunker’s greenhouse. Good mozzarella that Dean liked to gripe about but always kept around because Sam snacked on it. 

Dish in the oven, tinfoil-topped. Sam set a timer on his phone and headed down to the storerooms. Took him some searching, but he found what he was looking for. Made his way back up the stairs and got to work transforming the library. 

Sam was reading in the map room when Dean got home.

“Heya Sammy!” 

“Hey.” Sam looked up.

“Good news! I found that douchey organic eggnog you—” Dean sniffed, squinted at him. “What am I smelling here?”

Sam put down his book and stood. “Baked ziti.” 

“You cooked?” Dean clanged down the stairs, bulging grocery bags in both arms.

Sam shrugged. “I reheated, mostly.” Took the bags and turned for the kitchen. “Go have a seat.”

“Damn, Sammy!” Dean’s footsteps trailed toward the table he’d set. “You went all out, huh?”

Sam grinned to himself. “I am capable of nesting too, y’know!” 

Click of Dean’s Zippo followed him around the corner. Sam put up the groceries and carefully pulled his ziti and garlic bread out of the warm oven. 

Dean stepped up behind and slid his arms around Sam’s waist. “I’ll hand it to you, man; you surprised me.”

Heat climbed Sam’s neck as Dean bunched up his shirt and scratched circles on his belly. “Grab the salads, huh?” He was not gonna let Dean distract him, let their meal get cold.

Dean huffed against Sam’s neck, but he got in line. Helped carry plates to the library, where he’d lit the candles, opened the wine. 

“Good stuff.” Dean picked up the bottle. “Is this—”

“Yeah.” Sam ducked his head. “Been sitting in that box—”

“Since Dad was here.” 

Sam peeked up. 

Dean licked his lips and thumbed the label. “Ain’t no sense lettin’ it collect dust.” Stuck out a hand. “Here.”

Sam passed him the glasses and Dean poured. 

“Sit!” Sam gestured. Grinned. “Or, I could pull your chair out for you—”

“Fuck you.” Dean sat.

“Merry Christmas!” Sam smiled, extra sweet.

Dean speared penne, spun his fork through stretchy cheese and scooped up sauce. “Holy shit, Sam,” with his mouthful, “this is awesome.” 

Blush lit Sam’s cheeks.

Dinner passed in easy silence. Clink of forks on plates and Dean’s pleased groans the only sounds. Sam stared. Watched Dean’s lashes flutter, lips and jaws work. Callused, crooked fingers lifted delicate glass, and Dean’s tongue flashed. Throat flexed as the wine washed down. 

Sam poured their second round. Dean jerked his chin in thanks. He dabbed his mouth—with his actual napkin, plucked from his actual lap—and raised a toast. 

“Merry Christmas, Sammy.”

Glasses tapped.

“Merry Christmas, Dean.”

Later—candles snuffed and dishes washed and funnies shredded on the floor—Dean spread Sam out on a blanket by the glittering tree.

“Want you, Sammy,” breathed on his skin, as gifted hands skimmed down his sides. 

Sam arched, sparked where they collided, muttered, “Yes, Dean. God.”

And Dean moved on him—stroking, stretching, kissing bruises in between his thighs—after all this time, Sam still reacted, bucked and writhed and trembled. Opened, moaned Dean’s name and took him, quick and deep and brutal. Beautiful. Sam roared. Soaked their bellies. Muscles quaked and tears escaped and Dean drove on. Hammering. Panting.

Dean was cleaning them, next thing Sam knew. Green eyes, swollen lips and sweaty shoulders shined in the soft light. Sam seized Dean, back of his neck and dragged him down. Kissed him. Tangled tongues and mingled breath. 

“Take me to bed,” Sam said.

Dean smirked. “Probably oughta straighten up in here first.”

Sam shook his head. “Tomorrow.”

“Okay, Sammy.” Kissing again. “Okay.”

———

Hat-tip to wetsammywinchester for the bunker greenhouse! Also I now lowkey ship Amara/Billie. O.O

Santa hopes you’ve enjoyed your wincestmas, in spite of the irl challenges. I’m gonna go on hiding here behind my long white beard for now (you know, so as not to spoil the mystery!) In the meantime, all my best to you and your elf. Santa is thinking of you. 

♡♡♡♡♡

[mischiefandspirits]

Mystery Meat: Polpette

S01-E01, part 3 of 3: Some Fenton family bonding, and Danny puts an end to the fighting.

Last time on Living Phantom ~ Next time on Living Phantom

Veeeeeegiieeeessss!

Meeeeeeaaaaaat!

Cookie?

Danny shot upwards with a scream, looking around for the ghost. He found himself in his room. “Wha-what's going on?”

Tucker and Sam were at his side in an instant.

“You passed out. We took you home. You've been asleep for four days!”

“Four days?” Danny shrieked.

Tucker laughed. “Nah. It's only been a couple hours.”

Danny flopped back down and threw an arm over his face.

“Knock it off, Tucker. This is the second time today your carelessness almost got him killed.”

“Me? I almost got him killed? The only reason this happened is because you had to be unique. You had to take the meat away! And I'm going to get it back!”

“You want to change that menu back? YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE TO GO THROUGH ME TO DO IT!”

The door slammed and Danny looked up to see he was alone. “Oh well. I'm sure everything will be back to normal by tomorrow,” he sighed.

Pleaded, really. He was more than ready to be done with this stupid fight.

He stayed laying for a moment then got up and went to where his friends had left his bag. He smiled as he saw copies of the notes for the two classes he’d practically slept through with his stuff. He started pulling out books to get to work on his homework when a knock sounded at the door.

“Danny?”

“What’s up?”

The door opened and Jazz peaked in. “Dinner’s ready. I made spaghetti.”

“Thanks, Jazz,” he said, standing up. He frowned when he felt his binder shifting. He reached under his shirt to fix it only to stop when he saw his sister give him a look. He stuck his tongue out at her, but went to his closet to take off his binder. “What happened to your hair?”

She frowned and brushed her fingers through the choppy feathered ends. “Mom and Dad think I’m a ghost and attacked me with a vacuum cleaner. They’re downstairs trying to figure out why it didn’t work.”

“At least it wasn’t the foam this time,” Danny said as he finished up.

“They’re getting worse and worse,” she huffed and they headed down for dinner.

“They’re just excited that the portal’s finally working. They’ll calm down soon enough.”

“Dad has PhDs in mechanical and electrical engineering and masters in physics and chemistry while Mom has PhDs in biology, chemistry, and physics with a master in mechanical engineering. They’re geniuses! They should be doing so much more than hunting fictional creatures!”

“We don’t know that ghosts aren’t real,” Danny said, rubbing his neck. “I mean, the portal works, right? That has to mean something.”

“A portal? They’ve got a hole in the wall that spits out green mist and electrocutes you.” Jazz flinched and gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

He shrugged and fiddled with his bandages. “It’s fine.”

“I just meant, the portal doesn’t mean ghosts are real. You shouldn’t encourage them.”

“I’m just keeping an open mind.”

Jazz tutted, but otherwise kept quiet. When they reached the first floor, she went to start plating up food while Danny went to the door to the lab.

“Dinner’s ready.”

Loud footsteps could immediately be heard and Danny backed away as his dad came running into the kitchen. “Spaghetti! You made meatballs, right?”

“Right here, Dad,” Jazz said, grabbing the pot.

His dad eyed her wearily for a moment then said, “If you are Jazzie-pants, you’re the best!”

She threw her hands in the air.

He pressed a kiss to her head then grabbed his plate and loaded it up with meatballs.

“How was your nap, honey?” Danny’s mom asked as she came into the room and wrapped an arm around Danny. “Are you alright? You’ve never passed out like that.”

“I’m fine, I was just tired. I’m all good now.”

“Did you take your binder off?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Did you do your homework?”

“I was working on it when Jazz called me down.”

“Alright, let me know if you need help with anything.”

“I know, Mom.”

She ruffled his hair then went over to keep his dad from taking all the meatballs.

~~~~~~~~~~B~~~~~0~~~~~0~~~~~~~~~~

Danny glared at nothing in particular as his friends yelled to their respective crowds from atop their respective stages.

I’d say kill me now, but it’s too late for that.

He considered calling his mom to see if she’d let him stay home. Maybe he could say he felt like he was going to pass out again.

Sam was to his right, standing atop a school bus surrounded by people waving signs with various pro-vegan and vegetarian sayings scrawled across them. Tucker was to his left, standing atop a popup stage with women dressed like sausage links while a crowd of people wondered about barbeque stands and food trucks.

Eventually, the two noticed him and rushed over.

“You guys put together two protests in one night?” he said, looking between them.

“Meat-eaters, Danny. Always ready to fight. And our high-protein diets give us the energy we need to do it quickly.”

“Vegans are always ready to protest. And because we don't have to waste time cooking our food, we can move even faster.”

“Don't you guys think this is a little extreme?”

“No choice, buddy. You're either with me!”

“Or you're against him!”

Danny ducked his head as they both shouted, “So whose side are you on?”

Suddenly the wind picked up in the schoolyard and laughter echoed around them as Danny’s ghost sense went off. Meat started flying away from the stands and trucks, swirling together into the largest meat monster yet.

“It's lunchtime!” the ghost shouted as both crowds started fleeing.

“Meat! Why have you betrayed me?” Tucker wailed.

Sam looked like she was going to say something so Danny grabbed them both and dragged them over to a tree. “That’s it! This is the last time you two are having this argument, got it?”

They opened their mouths.

“No! I don’t care if you don’t like meat or you only like meat! You’re both going to lay off each other! You don’t have to like each other's diets, you just have to keep your mouths shut and ignore it! You guys are my best friends, but I can not do this anymore! Please!”

They stared at him, shocked, as he broke down slightly at the end before slowly nodding.

“Okay, Danny.”

“Yeah, Dude. We didn’t… mean to upset you.”

“We’re sorry.”

“Really sorry.”

“Great. Wonderful.” He glanced around to be sure no one was paying attention. “Then it's time to make up. Now!”

They wrapped their arms around each other with him in the middle to hide the flash from his transformation and he turned invisible as they let go, shooting into the air.

~~~~~~~~~~B~~~~~0~~~~~0~~~~~~~~~~

Jazz scowled at the sky as the net she was in was dragged across the ground. Why was she cursed with a family like hers? All she wanted was to finish school, get a degree in psychology, and have a normal life. Was that too much to ask for?

“And the Fenton Grappler is working like a charm!” she heard her father say as she got closer.

“I don't understand. If Jazz is a ghost, why hasn’t she phased through the net?” her mother asked.

Jazz growled as the net came to a stop and stood up. As she pulled the net off, she shouted, “Because I am not a ghost! You've ambushed me, suffocated me with smoke, and worse, your stupid invention got Danny electrocuted! What do you have to say for yourselves?”

Her father held an open thermos in her face. “Eat hot Fenton Thermos, ghost gal!”

A few sparks popped out, but nothing more happened.

Jazz glared at her parents and her father frowned down at the thing. He gave it a shake and hummed. “Darn thing still doesn't work!”

Jazz crossed her arms.

Her father looked up at her and after a moment he smiled. He looked down at the thermos sadly. “I, Jack Fenton, from this day forth, do hereby turn my back on ghosts.”

Jazz’s eyes widened and her mother set her hand on his shoulder.

He held up the thermos. “And this Thermos can't trap ghosts because ghosts don't exist.”

He threw it then turned away, bowing his head.

Jazz gaped as her mother wrapped an arm around his and rubbed his back. “Jack.”

“No, she’s right. What have we been doing with our life?”

She’s right? She’s right! Jazz threw her hands in the air and did a spin. FINALLY! She had gotten through to them! Now maybe -

“Thanks for the thermos! ”

“HA! Ghost kid! I was right!”

What?

Jazz turned back to her parents to see they were both excited.

“You were wrong! Ghosts exist!” her father sing-songed before laughing. “I never doubted for a second!”

What? No! They’d been so close! Jazz hissed in her head, tugging at her hair. What just happened? Are they really that delusional?

“Come on, Maddie! Let’s go get that ghost kid!”

Jazz watched them both run off, her father pulling out a machine from one of the many pockets on his belt.

~~~~~~~~~~B~~~~~0~~~~~0~~~~~~~~~~

Danny’s eyes widened as the mini meat monsters the ghost had made to fight him reformed from the kick he’d used to destroy them. “Come on, can’t you cocktail weenies just stay down so this can be over?”

The rings passed over him to return him to human and Danny flinched.

The monsters smirked and grabbed him, flying into the air. Once they were high over the school, the ones holding his arms let go, letting him swing upside down.

He yelped and tried to grab at them to right himself, but they floated out of reach.

Suddenly something smacked his face and he grabbed it on instinct. He held it out and smiled. The Fenton Thermos! Finally, a way he could get the ghost back to the portal! But how to get it to work?

His eyes widened as he felt the grips on his legs loosened and looked up to see the monsters grinning.

They let go.

Danny looked down to see the ground fast approaching. “Change back! CHANGE BACK!”

His energy flared back up and the rings passed over him.

He cheered and turned intangible. He shot his parents a smile as he fell through the ground in front of them. “Thanks for the thermos!”

He twisted under the ground and came up on the other side of the school where the ghost -- the Lunch Lady? -- waited. As he did, an idea occurred to him.

She glared at the thermos. “NO! Soup's not on today's menu!”

“I'm changing the menu, permanently!” he grabbed the lid of the thermos and whispered, “Please work.”

He aimed the thermos at her and closed his eyes. He pushed his energy into the thermos, focusing it towards the thermos’s battery. Maybe a ghost trap needed ghostly energy to function? He felt his energy sink into the device and get drawn in as the thermos hummed to life in his hands. A blast of blue light shot at the Lunch Lady and drew her in like a tractor beam.

“No!” she screamed, trying to break free, but she soon disappeared inside.

Danny sighed with relief as he lost his hold on his ghost form. He felt drained, but closed the thermos with a smile. He went over to where Same and Tucker were hiding underneath decorations from Tucker’s half of the protest and helped them up.

“What happened? Where's the ghost?” Sam asked.

He held up the thermos. “My parents have their moments.”

Some beeping sounded and the three turned to see Danny’s parents running up.

“Ghost directly ahead.”

Danny flinched and hid the thermos behind his back.

“You would have to be some sort of moron to not notice the ghost directly ahead,” the Fenton Finder announced as they stopped in front of Danny.

His parents looked up at him and he gave them an awkward smile. He pointed over his shoulder. “Oh, sorry, Dad. You just missed him.”

“We got a runner!” his dad cheered and they took off.

Which allowed him to see Jazz glaring him down with crossed arms.

“Uh -”

“What did I say about encouraging them?”

“But -”

“Now they're back to square one!”

“Jazz!” Danny called, but his sister ignored him as she marched off.

“So, you're not gonna tell them?” Tucker asked, watching Danny’s parents disappear down the street.

Danny watched Jazz for a moment longer then turned to his friends. “Nah. I think I might've finally figured out what these powers are for. They make me able to help and protect people. To do some good.”

“They make you a hero,” Sam said.

“Well, with great pow-”

Danny threw a sausage at the tech geek.

All three of their phones went off and they pulled them out.

“School’s canceled for the next few days,” Sam said.

“Apparently people think there was a gas leak,” Tucker snorted. “One that’s giving people hallucinations.”

“Those were some painful hallucinations,” Danny joked, rubbing his shoulder.

“So we’ve got a few free days until they get this cleaned up and realize there isn’t any gas. You know what that means?”

“Movies, sleepovers, and Nasty Burger?” Danny suggested.

“No homework!” Tucker cheered.

The boys high-fived and the three set off.

“Do you guys want to stop by the mall before heading to one of our places?” Tucker asked. “We can look for something to wear to Spring Formal.”

“Why? It’s not like any of us are going,” Sam snorted.

“You don’t know that yet,” Danny objected. “We might get dates.”

Sam stared at him for a moment then shrugged. “Fine, whatever. If you two want to waste our time looking at clothes far be it for me to stop you.”

Danny’s nose scrunched up while Tucker cheered.

“I’m thinking green.”

“Maybe think again,” Sam snorted.

“What about you then?”

She shook her head. “I’m not going so I don’t need one.”

Danny frowned. “If you don’t want to go…”

She shrugged. “Who’s going to take pictures of you guys trying on horrible suits if you go on your own? That’d be a wasted blackmail opportunity.”

They both glared at her.

~~~~~~~~~~B~~~~~0~~~~~0~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m home,” Danny called as he shut and locked the door.

“Hey, sweetie,” his mom said. She stepped out of the kitchen with a spatula in hand. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

He froze. “You, uh, made dinner?”

“Jazz said she was going to be late so I thought I’d take care of dinner for her. How was shopping?”

“Okay, I guess. Tucker found a suit he liked, but none of them really fit me right.”

She nodded and came over to kiss the top of his head. “We’ll take you to the tailor in a few days. What about Sam?”

“I thought I saw her eyeing this black and purple dress in the window of Edgy On Purpose, but she says she’s not going so she’s not getting a dress.”

“That’s a shame.”

He shrugged.

“You ate lunch, right?”

“Yes, Mom,” he said, rolling his eyes. “We got Nasty Burger on the way to Tucker’s.”

“That’s good. I meant to call after we got your message about school, but we lost the ghost kid and your father wanted to come back and try and boost the power of the Fenton Finder.”

“It’s fine.” He considered something as he adjusted his backpack, the thermos inside bumping against his back. “Hey, Mom, I was wondering… You know how you infuse your inventions with ectoplasm? Have you ever considered, you know, powering them with ectoplasm too?”

She laughed and ruffled his hair. “Of course, honey, but the amount of condensed ectoplasm we’d need…” she trailed off, her eyes widening. “Though, with the portal now active, it would be easier to collect pure ectoplasm. Maybe… Jack! JACK!”

Danny chuckled as his mom ran off, muttering calculations and yelling for his dad. He stepped into the kitchen and froze.

A small army of cooked shrimp glared at him.

“MOM! DINNER CAME ALIVE AGAIN!”

[iluvsexyvoltageguys]

Too Easy To Forget

Fandom: Star Crossed Myth (Love 365)

Pairing: Leon x Reader

“I warned you!” Leon says, his voice raising a little. You can see his chest rise as he takes a deep breath, rubbing his hand over his face.

You can feel the tears burning hot as you try to not let them fall. And the worst part is, he did warn you. He told you this was nothing serious, but after three months of consistently hooking up, with the best sex of your life, things just happened to change for you.

“I know you did, okay? I know! I didn’t mean for this to happen, but we’ve always been honest. I just can’t keep doing this, Leon,” You choke back the tears, feeling your bottom lip waver. You can’t look at him. You can’t look him in the eye, and at his height it should be easy enough to avoid. This is an absolute disaster and not at all how you wanted what was probably the last time you’d see him to go.

“I have to go back to the heavens. You knew this. I told you from the beginning how this was supposed to be,” He tugs on his hair a little, staying in your line of vision like he’s doing it on purpose.

“Do you think I wanted to fall for you? You think I wanted to end up feeling the way I do about someone I know is leaving and not worrying about what he’s leaving behind? You get the happy ever after in the heavens and I get to stay on Earth,” You scoff a little.

It’s like he thinks this is easy for you. You swore up and down you weren’t going to fall for him. He was too arrogant, demanding, and most times he was selfish with the meatballs you made for him, but dammit he could be sweet, too. He was caring and nice, he took his time whenever you asked him to and he’d always been up front, just like he’d said.

“Please don’t. You knew this was how it would work out. What did you think would happen? I am a God, you are just a goldfish. And don’t act like you don’t mean anything to me. You know I care about you, but you know this is how it’s suppose to be,” He says, absolutely trying to reason with you, but it was too late.

You feel the tears as they break loose and wipe at them quickly. Leon looks like he wants to step forward and help, but he also knows that’s not his place. Especially right now.

���I don’t know what I expected. Not after three months. I don’t know how you can be around and so consistent in someone’s life for that long and not have some sort of feelings for them. I’m not you, Leon.”

You have to wrap your arms around yourself as you lean back against the kitchen counter. He’s got an arm against the fridge right next to you, giving you a caring look that’s making your heart physically hurt.

“I can’t just shut someone out,” You mumble, “I should have known better. I knew better when this first started.”

“Come here,” He says quietly, opening his arms up for you.

And this time you can’t resist it even if you really want to. You lean forward, pressing into his chest and holding his waist tight. He wraps his arms around you securely, even rubbing your back. It does nothing to slow the tears and you both know you’re soaking a spot onto his shirt, but he doesn’t pull back at all.

So you take it in. You realize this is probably the last night you’ll get to have him this close. He goes back to his goddess when he’s in the heavens. You knew that from the start, too. It was like you were borrowing him, keeping him warm and ready for when she finally got him back.

And maybe that played a bigger role in why you were more upset than you realized. He was fully capable of caring about someone, making them an important part of his life. You just weren’t that person, no matter how much you were there for him or cared. And that really hurt.

Leon pulls away then, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. He ducks a little, trying to get you to look up at him. You finally do, sniffling a little. The tears are far from over, but they’re a little less out of control now.

“What do you want? I’m all yours tonight,” He whispers, “You want to sleep together, or you can yell at me. You can hit me if you really want to. Go ahead, take a swing.”

You laugh a little, hating that he knows how to lighten your mood this way. He’s got the softest smile on his face and it makes you realize that this is going to be tough. This is your last night that you get him all to yourself. Part of you wants to just end it how it started: sex and nothing more. But you know, and you think he probably does too, that it’s too late to just go with that.

“I don’t really know,” You say quietly, your voice hoarse from the sobs, “I’m scared to let you go. I don’t think I’ll ever get you back the way I’ve had you lately.”

He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear, “Well, maybe we’re not supposed to. This was exciting and fun, but if I ever come back to Earth we might want different things. Hell, you might have someone new. We just don’t know.”

You look up at him finally. You want to commit him to memory then. You bring a hand up, pressing it to his cheek and running your thumb along his perfect skin gently. He turns his head and kisses your palm, sticking the tip of his tongue out just the tiniest bit to hit your skin. You both laugh a little. You’ll miss him, that much is true. He had been a steady presence over the last however many weeks, but somehow he’d blended seamlessly into your day to day life. Now you’d have to get used to him being absent on all fronts.

“Do you want me to leave?” He checks in, still leaning into your palm.

You shake your head, gently pulling him down by the back of his neck. He goes easily with it and leans in to kiss you, easily putting some pressure behind it. He traps you back against the counter before lifting you onto the surface. You’re finally level with his height, pulling back just enough to rest your forehead on his, trying to hold on just a little longer to him.

“Just one more night, okay?” You ask, though you’re sure he won’t say no.

“I’m all yours then. Whatever you want with me,” He nods.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, trying to decide how to spend the last hours. You think being tangled up in him is probably best. It’s already late anyways. “Can we just go lay down? I don’t have the energy to fight anymore or do much of anything.”

He smiles, reaching to grab your thighs, and hoisting you up. He carries you much easier than you imagine he should be able to, but it lets you have more time to just take him in. The muscles you can feel under his shirt are the same ones you’d held onto some nights, and you lean your head down on his shoulder. You’re lost in thought when he suddenly drops you onto your bed, pulling a small squeal out of your lips.

He strips down, absentmindedly tossing his shirt to you like he’d done so many previous nights. This time you shake your head though. You have to get used to letting him go. He understands, tossing you one of your own pajama shirts and getting under the covers with you.

It’s easy to find him then and get comfortable. You’d done it enough times, but there was always another tomorrow to do it again. Until now.

You waste hours talking about anything you can both think of to distract yourselves. But eventually your lids get too heavy and you’re slurring your words together out of exhaustion.

“Go to sleep, _____. It’s okay,” Leon says, but he’s not sure who he’s really saying it for.

You smile and follow his directions easily. You toss and turn despite his warm shape being right there with you the whole time. But when the sun wakes you up the next day you roll over to find an empty bed.

The sight builds an instant lump in your throat, and you’re immediately trying to swallow it down. You reach over and feel the sheets are cool, letting you know he was fully gone. You didn’t really get the chance to say goodbye. Not that you’re sure you would have been able to do it to his face.

You’re starting to think this was probably for the best when you see the flash of a red jewel on the pillow next to you. Your breath catches and you sit up, grabbing at the piece of jewelry. He’d left his necklace that he’d been wearing the night before. You knew he wore this necklace everyday, but you never imagined he’d leave it.

You shake your head, feeling the tears burn hot down your cheeks, not even bothering to clear them away. It was like a final goodbye from him. A way to remember him. He was easily your hardest goodbye yet, but you were sure you were too easy to forget for him.

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