#the potato chips are the only thing that gives me enough SALT

[sevenangrybees]

me: i am not going to eat the last bag of potato chips for lunch, i am not going to eat the last bag of potato chips for lunch, i am not going to eat the last bag of potato chips for lunch, i AM NOT!!

My POTS and ADHD sitting in the corner and giggling like middle school mean girls: :) :) :)

[nouearth]

red right hand.

pairing. henry cavill x male reader.

word count. 7.3k.

summary. if there was one thing to give your dad credit for (other than helping create your very existence), it was that he has an insanely hot best friend. it was a universal admiration your neighborhood shared with one another. though, how many actively feasted upon their fantasies regarding that hunk of a man? probably only you, because mr. cavill was more than a crush, he was an addiction. and on one summer day, mr. cavill realized that so were you.

content warning. college!reader, dad's best friend!henry, neighbor!henry, age gap, blowjob (r!giving), degrading, throat-fucking, choking, gagging, spitting, kissing, humiliation, body and muscle worship, rough-play, size difference, dirty talk, verbal, praising, size kink.

The warm wind fanned the sweat off your forehead when you slid your window open. The ledge stained your fingers with particles of dust. Grimacing at the fuzz and simultaneous stickiness, it also provoked a storm of laziness as steel reminders from your dad got caught up in the commotion: CLEAN THE HOUSE.

CAR MAINTENANCE.

STOP ORDERING TAKE-OUT AND COOK.

SORT THE ATTIC.

TIDY GARAGE.

CHECK STOVE IGNITIONS BEFORE LEAVING THE HOUSE.

LOCK THE DOORS.

Ya-dah, ya-dah…

Honestly, how could you check-off any of these tasks with this heatwave currently going on? You were sweating bullets, been sweating enough to bathe in your own salt for days now—which you technically were already doing. It was summer, the long-awaited season after the agony of allergies. A temporary relief to your studies as well, until the humidity hit you like a truck and made you realize that living back in a dorm wasn’t so bad. 

At least the building had a functional air-conditioner. 

“Uh-huh, yep.” Your dad’s voice was going in one ear and out the other as you rummaged through your cabinets for a snack. Cereal; stale. Canned meat; too heavy. Potato chips; not heavy enough. “Dad, you know you’ve gone on business trips before, right? This isn’t the first time I’ve been alone.”

“I know, but I’m just making sure. It’s a new house, and I’ve been watching these true crime documentaries about men leaving clubs and—“

“Well, the first mistake was going to a sketchy club in the first place…” You muttered, peering into the fridge, and then lingering, because refrigerator air has never felt so cooling against your skin. You duck your head to puzzle yourself into the cold box, dumbfounded that the heat had gotten you irritated enough to claim a bag of deli meat as your bunkmate for the time being. The sound of your dad’s frustrated sigh on the other line curled your frown into a smile, and you laughed, “I’m a big boy. Stop worrying, and go enjoy—Ow!“ You bumped your head against the door on your way out.

“How can I not worry when you just referred to yourself as a ‘big boy?’ Not even a man?!” You never realized how theatric the man was. It was like his presence never left the house, exaggerated hand movements and all wafting the smell of his homemade meals whenever he would scold you in his favorite place: the kitchen. You smiled at the fond memories.

“Good point—“ Though they were made at your old house, you were sure that once he’d returned, your dad wouldn’t be opposed to creating new memories of scolding your ass off on whatever trouble you’d get into. If you do, that is. You’ve grown since then, finding yourself too tired to socialize.

“Remember, spare key’s in the birdhouse. There’s a compartment at the side of it. Hopefully birds haven’t evolved enough to pick it open.”

“If they have, they’d be picking at our locks right now to kidnap me and probably feast on my body.” Luckily, the fridge was stocked before your dad had left. You crucified him for being overly-prepared at times, but for this month, it was an exception. You picked at a slice of deli meat and cheese, and stuffed it down your mouth.

“Not funny, (M/N).”

“I’m kidding, Dad. Lighten up! I know you’re nervous about presenting, but they invited you to talk to an audience for a reason. They like you. Just be yourself, and remember not to speak so fast. Have some water on standby too.” And speaking of the devil, you gulped down a glass of iced water to cool down your body as your dad chuckled in your ear.

“I know, I know, thanks.” A muffled sound on the other end filled the silence, sounds of people passing and cars honking passing through your ear. “Alright, my ride’s here. I’ll call as soon as I get to the hotel, okay? You better answer—Oh! I forgot to tell you! Henry’s coming over later to look at the car.”

“Henry—Oh, Mr. Cavill? He’s in the neighborhood?” The name rattled a familiar feeling inside of your stomach. Something rather warm, suddenly ravenous when you thought about the last time you saw him.

“Actually, he was the one that told me about this house! He lives down the street. But tool’s in the garage if he asks for them, okay?” 

“Y-yeah, okay. Got it.” You hadn’t seen him many times. Only when you’d come home from semester breaks, yet the mere mention of his name had you flustered as if he was a long-lost friend or something. 

“Okay, gotta go. Love you, and remember, lock your doors! Bye!”

“I will! Bye…” Your phone blinked back to your previous app after ending the call.

You knew he was your dad’s best friend; a divorced father and a bachelor unsurprisngly made a match in heaven.

He was someone that shared your father’s interest in tabletop games and comic books. A replacement for yourself you thought earlier on, but he was way more knowledgeable about those interest than you ever were. You grew up on your dad’s nostalgia. For Mr. Cavill and your dad? These memories altered them who they would be in the future.

He was a friend that would help your dad out on building projects, like that birdhouse he had mentioned. He was a charming man that built the PC you currently use after hearing you complain about the previous laptop you had. And best of all, his looks were as abundant as his kindness. Standing over six feet tall, with a chiseled face that matched an equally sculpted body; he’d been a little crush since you first met him, being the only man who was capable of rendering you utterly speechless.

And in present, the only man who had the power to tighten your briefs and shorts with only a passing thought of his body; muscular and athletic in all the right places. If only your dad could somehow muster up a beach day before summer ended. Either way, the image of his bare body excited you, the blood flow immediately rushing south in agreement. Your dick kissed your shorts at the thought water cascading off his hulking body like meltwater over an ice shelf, freezing you in your place to not-so-subtly gawk.

“Jesus…” Your body couldn’t catch a break, could it? With the ramping heat and the constant sweating, your erection only added fuel to the bonfire that was the pores of your skin. Your cock pulsed madly within the constraint of your briefs, teasing yet begging to be released, to be sheathed from its slick, because it knew you had the key to its relief.

Or rather, Mr. Cavill did.

It was pathetic. You’d been at this for a year now. As much as you were unfamiliar with Mr. Cavill’s disposition, it was certainly the opposite regarding his physical appearance. Though it hadn’t exactly occur to you when this crush of yours had been tiptoeing along the lines of obsession. 

Wait, was it an obsession..? No, no, it was just a crush. 

You hadn’t done anything wrong. All you had done was browse through his social media—he did follow you, and you mutually pursued—and stalked—no—scrolled through his posts. Thank god, he was an avid poster. Pictures of his selfies, his knack for grilling, his love for his pet dogs, his pride over his geeky hobbies, his friendship with your dad and mutual buddies—all of these pieces attributed to allowing you to get to know him more as you were rotting away on campus, missing life back at home. Like clockwork, looking at his feed brought a sense of comfort, a hope that maybe you could be part of his life as well.

“God, what I’d do to ride that mustache…” You blurted out your thoughts, hyper-aware that you were alone in the house. You’d been waiting for this. You’d been surrounded by your roommates 24/7, and then once break started, your dad wanted to insert himself into your schedules as much as he could before the next semester starts. 

As much as you loved them, you needed space. A space bigger than the privacy of your own room. You deserved the whole house to yourself after enduring months of agony from overdue assignments; stress from bickering roommates that led to chaos within the dorm. You haven’t jerked off properly in months, often resorting to a quick session that comforted you on the occasions you’d have to pull multiple all-nighters to get a project done.

You needed relief.

You needed pleasure.

“Fuck,” Your eyes had been fixated on Mr. Cavill’s social media feed as you stripped yourself free of clothing. On one hand, it helped your body cool off from the heat building in the house. On the other, you felt vulnerable, like someone could walk in on you any second, and god, was that a turn-on. 

A grid of his life displayed happily before you, and your thumb scrolled aimlessly in pursuit of multiple pictures ingrained in your brain that had your cock throbbing in your palm. You laid flat on the couch, earbuds fit snug in the canals after briefly switching apps to play your favorite porn in the background of your search. Your stomach sunk deep when the man began moaning in your ears. Hot like the blistering sun outside; you can imagine Mr. Cavill breathing against you like that, as you took his cock in like the video you had playing. Your balls pulled when the man grunted, “Right there,” and you couldn’t help but pull at the ache of your cock, then at your balls to fondle at the loose stretch of skin.

“Right there,” you repeated when your thumb paused at the desired video of Mr. Cavill. Another major part of his lifestyle was working out. Strength training, cardio, marathons. You name it, Mr. Cavill did it all, exceptionally well, and the crème de la crème of it all was that he bared his torso for most of his videos. “Fuck, you’re so big… Fuck, fuck…” 

It was like watching a warrior prepare for battle. Sweat dripped off the holiest parts of his body as he pumped his muscles with heavy weights. Grunts, heavy and lewd sounds filled your ears while Mr. Cavill powered through his body’s resistance. You wondered to yourself if he could take you like that. Force you to take him with brute strength like the weights in his muscular, veiny hands. You were stroking yourself to him, every part of him, palm slick with sweat and spit. Two fingers would get the job done, stretching you out in preparation for his cock. Though, you knew deep down that it would take more than that. Three, or maybe even four, considering the hunk of a man was seemingly built from metal. The video replayed multiple times before you remembered that he had more than enough content for you to jerk off to. You were barely five minutes in, but this was already more pleasurable than whatever you had endured back at the dorms. Your cock felt pleased, spitting out dribbles of thick pre-cum that loosened the stick of your palm as donation to your generosity.

“Fuck, Henry…” You rarely referred to him by his first name. It felt unusual. You were much younger than him. Addressing someone closer to your dad’s age felt rude, like you were trying to assert your dominance despite your age difference. You were many things, but disobedient was not one of them. However, you couldn’t lie. His name felt polishing to your tongue, something that could improve the taste of dreadful meals if one were to whisper it before taking a spoonful.

His name felt like a miracle.

Your sexual appetite was nourished by the frames of Mr Cavill’s second video. He was completely unaware he was bulging, free-balling in his sweaty shorts while he pursued his vitality through jumping jacks, lunges, toe-touches—cardio galore that made his heavy cock bounce in rhythm. You could tell he was large, gifted with insane girth to the point where you could make out the shape of his cock just from him stretching. And the smell; sweat sticking on thick curly hairs on his chest, and a happy trail that seemed to promise a world of musk if you ever had an opportunity to endeavor upon your curiosities. You were practically salivating for him, saliva pooling where your tongue sank, while your cock leaked. You pumped yourself quicker and harder at the frustration that your desire to taste Mr. Cavill’s cock would remain a pipe dream.

All that left you was your imagination, and your own musk. Pulling up at your glans, you squeezed out thick loads of pre-cum before swiping it with your thumb and tasting it off with a suck. Salty, bitterly pleasant on your tongue, and satiated enough to not let your libido falter at the disappointment that it wasn’t Mr. Cavill’s pre-cum, but rather smolder.

“Oh, fuck my mouth… I need that cock, Mr. Cavill. Please—“ The frames of the third video showcased him flexing his arms and torso. His body bursted with pride, veins surging through every fiber of muscle like they were charging him and his very existence. It was veiny too, wasn’t it? His cock. Large and veiny, like how you’d like it. You would struggle fitting him inside of your mouth while his cock veins pulsed with great pleasure knowing that it was Mr. Cavill’s kink that you couldn’t take him. 

No one could.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—“ Your eyes rolled back. The slurping sounds from the porn increased by tenfold as you pumped the volume by a few decibels. Lewd, slick sounds you wished you could perform on Mr. Cavill himself violated your ear drums. Pleasure him. Thank him on your knees for being so kind to your father. For building your PC without compensation. For providing you temporarily relief while you were away on campus, and could only jerk off under the blanket. You were grateful for him. For Mr. Cavill. For his thick arms. For his veiny forearms. For his dashing good-looks. For his muscles. For his strong cock. You’d give yourself to him if you could. Worship every inch of his step, every inch of his body, and that still wouldn’t be enough to show your appreciation towards him. 

Your fist tightened. Your other hand had grown limp by now, dropping your phone to the floor by mistake, but you were too fixated on the pleasure your cock was receiving to retrieve it back. You could watch it from where you were laying, just like this, slickly twisting and pumping your cock to the sound of the porn, to the sound of Mr. Cavill grunting simultaneously as if his thick cock was being feasted on like a hungry beast. “Mr. Cavill, please—I’m going to—“

One earbud slipped from the sweat building on your body, but you were close. So fucking close to coming. And when you do, you’d come on your phone.

All over Mr Cavill’s pecs. His abs. His crotch. His face. Anywhere, as long as it was your friendly neighbor, because—

“Enjoying yourself, (M/N)?”

A voice from behind you alerted your body to jolt and whip around upon instinct to defend yourself. Naked or not, you weren’t going to die, not in the hands of a burglar.

Though, as soon as you did, you regretted it. You felt like stone. Cold, hard stone as all signs of life seemingly felt like it had been sucked dry out of your body, with your erection taking up most of the produce surprisingly as you confronted the intruder.

The six-feet, muscular, handsome, and familiar man of an intruder. 

“M-Mr. Cavill?! What—When did you—“ You were flustered. Radiant heat blooming like the season of Spring across several patches of your naked body. It also didn’t help that your porn could be heard from earbuds once you took the remaining one out, albeit a bit muffled. And your phone, it was facing the ceiling, looping the video of Mr. Cavill training over and over again. Right before him.

Your body was shaking, physically evident despite your efforts to conceal the tremors as the man stared you down, unfazed by the drama of it all. “Fuck—“ You didn’t know what to turn off first. The porn? The video of him working out? Or maybe dressing yourself should be a priority because—Mr. Cavill was still staring, blues lingering on your naked body, seemingly outlining every drop of sweat that followed the contours of your figure. There was movement that naturally caught your attention. 

It was his hand, large and muscular over the center of his shorts. Rubbing, squeezing, fondling at an evidently large mass that made you dry-swallow. You mustered up the courage to finally pause the porn, then clicked your phone off. “H-how long have you been watching?”

“Since the beginning.” He chuckled, stating matter-of-factly. “Your dad told me to come look at your car. Your garage was open. Thought you did that for me, but I guess you really just forgot about closing it considering…” He nodded towards your cock, licking his lips when it acknowledged him with a throb. “Was coming to get you, and I found you like this.”

“And you just watched?!” You sputtered out in distress, hastily dressing yourself back into your clothes, stumbling over your feet in the process. Sweat always made it more difficult to put on clothes.

“Well, I did call you for while I was coming in. You didn’t hear me over your video, and…me, I suppose.” It was smug. Amusing to him that you were in this state of embarrassment after being caught red-handed. You groaned, burying your head into your knees after sitting back down on the couch. The heat was unbearable, but to face Mr. Cavill after being caught jerking off to his videos, you were overcome with horror at the ghastly spectacle of the situation.

“Don’t tell my dad about this,” Your fingers scraped through your scalp out of frustration, but also to keep your head pressed to your knees as they interlaced around you. You refused to even spare one more glance at the man when you felt him practically hovering over you, a gentle smile riding along the coattails of his composure. “…please.”

“I won’t,” Mr. Cavill’s voice sounded clearer, closer than before. Right above you, but still, you maintained your position despite the pleasant scent of his cologne almost breaking away your focus. “Just as long as you suck me off.”

Those final words hit you like a truck. 

You were astounded, confused by the turn of the situation. It felt like a taunt, and it was treated as such because it worked. You whipped your head up upon Mr. Cavill’s demand, almost insulted because it was how guys on campus used to taunt you.

What you expected to grace your eyes with was his face; charming as ever with a mustache that was reliable in stirring immense feelings inside of you.

Instead, you were met with a face full of flesh, Mr Cavill’s heavy and large cock. It sported a strong curve, throbbing veins to prove its accelerating lust, with thick balls swinging low to entice you into a hypnotic state. If someone was to grade you upon your predictions, you’d score a perfect mark, because god damn, he was huge. Hairier than you’d expected, though just as arousing, if not more, because this was unexpected for Mr. Cavill as well. He would’ve cleaned himself a bit if he had a plan to meet you under these circumstances.

“I—You’re serious?” With the string of thick pre-cum dripping from the very slit of his head, it seemed like your question was answered. You could smell him. The musk of his pre-cum. It tingled your nostrils, enchanting you akin to what fresh pastries would’ve done for you on normal, non-libido provoking circumstances.

“Does it look like I’m kidding? Come on, I’m waiting. You didn’t even say ‘thank you’ to me in person when I built you that PC for Christmas. It’s the least you could do, right?” Without warning, he took ahold of his cock and tapped the center of your lips with it. Your orbs shook as you looked up at him, hesitant through the tremor of your lips as Mr. Cavill stared back, determined for you to accept his plea offer with some kind of answer—with your mouth preferably. “Been teasing me for so long… Think I didn’t notice the way you looked at me whenever I came over? How you kept massaging your cock under the table during dinner? Always in those shorts too… God, you were begging to be fucked with your thighs showing like that.”

“No—I-You’re my dad’s friend, I can’t—“ Your hand said otherwise with your fingers taking initiative on their own, wrapping over his large cock, right above Mr. Cavill’s fist. It was a two-hander, a fucking two-hander, yet your fingers struggled to close around his girth. “Fuck, you’re so…”

“Your dad doesn’t have to know, right? I won’t tell. You won’t either. We don’t want to hurt him, right?” One of his hands found its way to the back of your head while he took a step closer, bringing his cock closer to your face. Before you could pull away, there was true grit to the palm of Mr Cavill’s hand as he applied pressure to the back of your head, pressing your cheek flush to the underside of his cock. “Look at you, you don’t have the heart to say no, do you? You’re obsessed with my cock, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes, Mr. Cavill…” You were under his control. Locks of your hair bundled under a grip while he ground his cock against your supple skin, making you smell him; his musky cock, the sweat buried in the deep hairs of his pubic area. It was a glorious scene that returned your cock back to its original state of arousal by tenfold. 

“You’re going to be a good boy and suck my cock off, right?” Almost in your mouth. You parted your lips open to trap his cock into your mouth with the way he maneuvered your head like a rag doll, a brute strength your nape now, pulling and pushing your head as his cock rubbed against your face, but Mr. Cavill pulled at the last minute, right when you were one lick away from tasting meaty flesh. “Close your mouth. You will open your mouth when I tell you so.”

“I—I—Yes, please...” You were pathetic. He held you still, head tilted upwards to face the ceiling and his towering body while his cock and balls laid over your face like a table runner, a perfect heater to warm his meat. A t-shirt remained on his body, and that was a true testament to his appeal, being able to get you off like this half-naked. You reached down, back to fondling at your sore cock, at the blue balls you’d given yourself earlier, sniffing, inhaling the heavy delightful scent of his sweaty cock. Guess his house was having air-conditioning difficulties too.

“I can use your mouth however I want?” He dragged his cock over your face, the head leaking out pre-cum in midst of its journey to introducing itself to every one of your facial features, saving your lips for last. 

“Yes,” You gulped at his rousing speech, breathing in the drying musky pre-cum on the perimeter of your skin. “Please fuck my mouth, please—“

“If you’re good, then this can be a regular occurrence, yeah?” You slipped your shorts and briefs off again, jerking yourself off to simply the teasing taunt of his cock, tapping at your skin, brushing over your eyelids, pushing up against your nose. You felt humiliated. You’d been marked by Mr. Cavill, pathetically as it only took his huge cock to make you submit to him. “You’d like that? Sucking your dad’s best friend off?”

“F-fuck, yes…” His cock was a wand to your body. Every time Mr. Cavill was seemingly about to push into your mouth, you willingly opened it to no avail, even if it was obvious that he’d pull away. You could only get off on his scent for so long. He’d draw your tongue out when he squeezed pre-cum out the tip of his cock, right above your pink flesh. It would sink, drip, slowly like syrup, in thick strings, until it wasn’t anymore with the sudden obstruction of Mr. Cavill’s finger swooping in to nick the sticky web, and letting it waste away on the carpet. “Please, Mr. Cavill… I-I’ll be good…”

It was amusing to him, watching you desperately try to taste and watch him in any way you can, to the point of going cross-eyed as he would center his cock in your vision. He waved his cock like a flag as if he had conquered you. Humiliated you with several heavy slaps to your face, thick smacks that you took in whimpering grace because Mr. Cavill had stolen the resources to your insanity.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Mr. Cavill didn’t waste a single second for you to prepare yourself. The pressure on your nape steeled, bruising to make you open your mouth and whimper, and maybe that was the point, because he seized the opportunity to charge his cock inside of your mouth without warning, making you gag on your own desperation. It was a forewarning. A brief prologue on how you should take his cock as he quickly pulled himself out to properly prepare yourself. In the meantime, he slapped your cheek multiple times with the spit you had already layered him with, cooing at how incredible hard and big he was against your dazed face.

“Fuck, your mouth is so warm. That’s it, you can take it. Good boy.” Saliva spilled out of your mouth like a popped water balloon when he pushed himself inside of your mouth again. You couldn’t control it. You couldn’t control what Mr. Cavill had stripped away from you with the strength he had on your neck. Not to mention, the mass of flesh gagging you into oblivion, leaving you completely incapable of stopping him, as if you wanted him to. “Come on, use your hands too. Don’t be lazy.”

“Mm-mmf…” A compliance that was muffled by a slur of slick sounds, but Mr. Cavill knew what you meant. Amusement played on the corner of his lips as you struggled to fit a hand around the base of his sticky cock, sloppily stroking what was left neglected by your mouth, or rather your inability to take in. You suckled on the head of his cock, plump and heavy on your tongue as it throbbed with every lick you provided him. Stroking its slit with the tip of your tongue, you then dug and slobbered over the salty taste of his pre-cum. “So big… Just like I’d imagined.”

You pulled away to marvel at the size of his cock, taking your time to lube his cock with your spit from tip to shaft before your fist flushed to his pelvis to slap his meaty cock on the pouch of your tongue, lewdly flinging your spit in the air. It was your favorite move, often reliable in coercing a reaction out of the men you’d sucked off previously. The roll of his eyes, the flex of his muscles, the grunt from his gut; you slobbered all over his cock, worshipping every inch with your mouth, polishing the cock knob clean with your tongue and stroking what you couldn’t with two deft hands. Mr. Cavill was no different, he was a man with needs like you, with needs like the rest of the men you’d given head to, and you exploited the hell out of it. You loved making them feel in power, making them feel like you were worth time out of their day, despite their original pleas to use your mouth.

He briefly pulled back to rest a kiss on your lips, one that you’d treasure for the rest of your life. Not only was it because it was your first kiss was him, but because of how delicate he was with you. Warm and inviting like he usually was, his large hands cupped at the end of your jaw, holding you as if you were made of porcelain. “Making me so proud right now, fuck. Take in more of my cock, would you? I like it when you gag.”

“Mm-hmm…” They always do. You mumbled against his lips, no longer needing his guidance to finish what you’d started. Your eyes were glued to Mr. Cavill, aroused by the look he was giving you. A famished stare that demanded to be satiated, by means of sheer persistence as you knew it was going to be difficult to down him with your throat.

Mr. Cavill drove a hand into your hair, cuffing the strands to keep you still, to keep you from pulling away, to dominate you. He watched you without an ounce of kindness, muscles flexing, cock and balls hanging obscenely as you found a better position on your knees with a throw pillow guarding you from bruising. “Want you to throat-fuck me, Mr. Cavill.”

“Fuck, who knew you had such a mouth on you…” He sturdied his stance, spreading his strong legs while manhandling your head between them. You licked a stripe over his balls, then the underside of his cock until your tongue reached the scorching skin of his precum-slicked tip. Approaching the end of the journey, your mouth opened wide to welcome Mr. Cavill back into your mouth, and like tugging on a loose knot, you drew out moans from within his gut, his body loosening in turn of your hot mouth. “Fuck, just like that…”

With a thundering heart, and a building pleasure so morbidly big, you sunk and lowered your head lower, taking in Mr. Cavill’s horse-cock like a fleshlight. Crimson rose to your cheeks, to your neck, as you strained to maintain him inside of your mouth. He was too big. You’ve utilized all the tactics you’ve learned on campus, on a few buddies, on your roommates. Breathe through your nose, relax your tongue and jaw, let your saliva drip out. Yet you’d barely taken a few inches more than you had done prior before a couple of gags alerted you to take a breather. Your head pulled back, but it was met with violent opposition as Mr. Cavill brought your head back down to further shove himself down your throat.

“Mmm—gggrgh!” Your body jolted in defense, stiffening your body into an upright position when you couldn’t refrain from gagging on his cock. Your hands braced on his strong thighs for balance, squeezing at the muscly flesh of skin to distract yourself from the uncomfortable stretch your mouth was receiving.

“Fuck, yeah. Fuck, fuck, just like that. You’re taking it like a good boy.” You were making him proud, so fucking proud. You coughed, gagging, almost choked on your own spit, but the stuffing of Mr. Cavill’s large cock simultaneously emptied your mouth of saliva as it all came flooding down your mouth in lewd webs. “Shit, look at that. I’m making your mouth water, aren’t I? Fuck, what a waste.”

He yanked your head back, pulling him out of your throat, and you had never felt such relief. Breathing, exhaling and inhaling deep to compensate for the prediction that Mr. Cavill wasn’t going to let you spare a second of abandoning his cock like that. Your eyes watered, reddened from straining your muscles to make him fit inside of your mouth. You knew there was a shift in the room when you looked up at him like that, glossy in the eyes, tremors involuntarily making your knees unsteady, coughing as you held onto his thighs. He towered over you, you were beneath him, beneath the ravenous gaze he simultaneously terrified and seduced you with. You couldn’t complain now. You did your job. You made him feel powerful like you’d wanted. Dominating, as his cock leaked in your spit, and spit your saliva back onto your face.

“You were fucking hungry for my cock, weren’t you? Look at you. You’re a bloody mess…” With one swipe, he gathered the layers of spit you had generously supplemented his cock with, and smeared it across your face. You took his humiliation with good grace, moaning at your loss of pride with every smear. It deducted the more he messily layered your face with your own spit, but as demeaning as it was, there was immense merit to the satisfaction on Mr. Cavill’s face. “Open up.”

“M-mm, ah—“ Your mouth opened with a vulgar sound. If Mr. Cavill had something to compare it to, it would be like sticking a spoon into a cup of jello, and then scooping its content out. Sweet and glorious to his ears, salty to your mouth as he bought your head forward again, and plunged his cock back down your throat, deeper, and further within the confines of your throat. You squeezed around him, eyes clenched tight while he brought your face flushed to his pelvis, the hairy bush of his public area gentle abrasive against your nose. He smelled as delectable as he tasted. A hint of spice, sweat, salt, you could lick at it if it was made into a popsicle, lap it up if it was in a bowl and you were on all fours, bowing to his feet.

Your cheeks bulged as your mouth churned internally to produce more slime to seemingly ease the slide of Mr. Cavill’s cock thrusting inside of you now. He was careless, half-bent over your head to lock you into a tight embrace while his spit-polished cock rubbed at either side of your cheeks, rut against the roof of your mouth, then thrust himself into the depth of your warm throat. You couldn’t have escaped if you had wanted to. He was too strong. Two hands unrelenting around your head while he packed his large cock deep into your mouth, pelting into your gags and whimpers with fast, sharp thrusts, the sound of his wet dick choking you mutually turning you and Mr. Cavill on. You want to quit, yet he was choking you too good. Water streamed down your cheeks. Whether it was your own spit, sweat, or tears, you couldn’t comprehend it because Mr. Cavill was uncompromising, refusing to yield for your comfort.

You were fucking grateful. That was what had been missing from your college experience. A man. Someone taking charge for once. Someone utilizing you like the whore you made yourself out to be. Mr. Cavill saw right through you, through your taunts from several breaks ago, and he was fucking furious for making him wait.

“Shit, I’m close,” Fucking your mouth furiously. You could get off like this. Fuck, no. You were getting off to this. Fucking your cock with your fist, doing your best to match the pace of Mr. Cavill’s hips. You wanted to look up, to watch his face morph from admiration to animalistic desire as he utilized your throat at his own disposal.

You blinked away your tears, even if they had stung, and gawked at how captivating Mr. Cavill was for being selfish, thrusting into your mouth with one hand keeping your face free of your hair from obstructing his view. A frown permanently framed his mustache, and his dark brows furrowed at the approaching climax. He wasn’t looking at you. Rather, he was scrutinizing your wet mouth as it was jam-packed with his cock. How could a mouth look so pretty while doing something absolutely obscene? How could a throat feel so tight, so addictive, even after piping his cock down its drain several times? How could you let him treat you like this, a complete stranger, completely violate and humiliate you on your knees, like a broken doll whose purpose was to fulfill a man’s deepest desires? Maybe he needed to have a talk with your father. Talk about how broken you were, and that you needed fixing. Spend a nights with him at his house, and he would help you rewire your brain. He’d fix you. Fix you with his cock. With his lips. With his hands. With his body. Your eyes rolled back at the thought, fisting your cock faster, twisting to his heavy grunts as he was nearing closer and closer to the edge of his insanity.

“Mfghm!” Your throat felt raw, the subtlest whimper scratching at your throat like claws on chalkboard. But you persisted, pumping your shaft vigorously, your ears lapping up Mr. Cavill’s constant appraisal for your performance. Good boy. That’s it. You’re taking my cock like how I want it. You want your reward? Fuck, sloppier. Spit on it. Spit on my dick. I like it sloppy. 

Sweat pebbled every inch of your skin. You couldn’t take it. It was coming. Your stomach sank and steeled upon the sudden rise of fulfillment, and you quickly released your grip after a final stroke before coming into the air. Thick ropes catapulted upwards, your cock throbbing with every pulse, and your balls emptying itself more and more with a bounce, a twitch, and a jolt. “F-fuck, ugh…”

“Fuck, yeah. Look at all of that cum. Fuck. You came that much just from my cock, look at that…“ Your body spasmed as the carpet soaked up your semen. His voice gruff yet gentle at the same time, making your cock twitch once more before softening. 

“Come on, not done yet. Suck me off.” He spat out, tugging your head forward after a quick breather.

Something in you clicked, and you began sucking his cock off like it was your job. Twisting, stroking at the slick shaft while nipping at the head while you caught up to your breath. Suddenly saltier on your tongue as some of your cum had landed on your hand before it was smeared across Mr. Cavill’s dick. You’ve never tasted yourself before, but it was a found contentment you didn’t expect to turn you on.

Then, you took one last breath, cleared your throat, and charged forward. Long, thick inches slid into your throat once more, and you’d hold yourself there upon his final warning, mouth agape, lips pressed into the fur of his pubic hair. Your tongue flattened at the underside of his veiny cock, and your nails dug into the back of his thighs as you felt a thick warmth rush down and coat the inside of your throat. His cock throbbed, and Mr. Cavill’s grunts emptied from his gut with every spill. You could feel every heavy pulse as Mr. Cavill came down your throat in heavy, creamy spurts. You didn’t want to swallow. Not yet. You wanted to savor him. Savor the taste of his cum. You’d pined for it for so long, for all you could know, this could be your last opportunity to properly taste him. Slowly, but surely, his loads rose and pooled in the back of your throat upon barricading it with a tighten of your trachea. The rest of his spurts emptied on your tongue as he pulled himself out, and milked himself to completion. 

“Don’t swallow yet.”

You nodded, panting, awaiting for his nuts to be emptied as he flung his cock a few times, hurling drips of cum and your spit over your tongue and face. When he was seemingly emptied out, his gaze fixated on his cum pooled in the back of your throat; semi-translucent and filthily swimming with your own spit, and then Mr. Cavill’s own saliva, as he then spat into your crowded mouth. 

“Now swallow.”

You whimpered at the vulgarity of this affair, yet you were highly-aroused by this shame you were feeling. Mr. Cavill’s gaze stilled, anticipating with calm amusement while petting at your cheek. With one clean gulp, you downed your guilt, scrunching your nose when the salty taste of his spunk throttled your tastebuds, and sighed in satisfaction.

“Does your throat hurt?” He was on his haunches, carefully examining your throat as if he had his hand around you from the outside. It was a surprising return to his normal self, at least, the man that you knew as your dad’s best friend. Caring and patient, as he tended to your neck with apologetic kisses, and a gentle massage around your nape, where he must’ve gripped too hard upon your jolted reaction.

“A little… Didn’t take you were one to be rough like that.” Your knees gave out, letting yourself fall back onto your butt knowing that the couch would catch your position.

“Not usually, no… You just… happen to rile me up for some reason.” He was smiling, joining you on the floor, and nuzzling his furry mustache into the crook of your neck as if he wasn’t choking you with his cock a few minutes ago. It was unusual, yet charming. “Seriously, don’t tell your dad, okay?” He whispered into your ear before turning your cheek to look deep in his eyes.

A meaningful stare, a beat of silence, before you spoke, “Only if you promise me something.”

“What’s that?” Mr. Cavill pressed a kiss to your swollen lips, another apology for stretching your mouth without much warning.

“You really meant it that this would be a regular thing if I did a good job?” Mr. Cavill scoffed at first. It was almost embarrassing. Were you being naive? Was this too good to be true? Your cheeks flushed red, and you solemnly casted your gaze downwards, defeated because that was that it felt like. The sound of rejection always came with a scoff, everyone knew that. 

“Well, it was going to be a regular thing even if you had accidentally bit my dick off.” He suddenly laughed at how susceptible you were by the smallest actions, and at this moment, you were surprised that maybe this crush wasn’t so one-sided after all. He teased at your frown, kissing the corner of your mouth until it was a smile, and then prodding at your sides when you resisted. “Come on, you couldn’t possibly think this was a one-time thing.” 

“Tempting…” You snuck a head in between his thighs, reaching for a certain tool that had brought in so much pleasure and pain to your body. “I don’t know… we don’t talk much. I don’t know you that well.” 

“Don’t.” Mr. Cavill teasingly warned, stopping you by taking ahold of your wrist. Though, one step too late, as you already cupped his flaccid cock, tormenting his balls with a few tugs and squeeze of your palm as an act of revenge for your throat. “Well… then let’s get to know each other. No problem doing that, right?”

“Mm-mm, guess not.” Pursing your lips, you nodded, feeling placated by his words.

He sighed into your mouth, kissing you again, licking at the inside of your mouth, tasting your tongue and then your cheek, to soothe his selfish stain on your body with the work of his mouth. 

“First, I want to hear you say ‘thank you’ for building that PC of yours before I promise you anything.”

“Jesus, we’re still on this?”

“Yes! Do you know how long that took me?”

“I didn’t ask you to build me one—“

“God, you’re an ungrateful brat.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[neuroticboyfriend]

hey uh i don't think USamerican food (ex: all our candy, chips, fast food, etc.) is unhealthy because it's a nation filled with gross fat people ridden with diabetes... hear me out... maybe it's because this god forsaken country is effectively the birthplace of capitalism and they will put anything and everything in our food if it means we keep buying it. especially if we have no other options.

all the added salt and sugar is because they know people will keep going for it - they're also simple ingredients that are easy for them to procure (thanks to centuries of slave, and otherwise unethical, labor). all the harmful dyes is because they've been relentlessly marketing to us in such a way that they make out natural food to be dirty and inferior. all the "fat free!" food came about because of fatphobia... you do need fats in your diet, just in balance.

it's all because they (capitalist class) don't give a flying fuck about anyone if it means they can make money. of course we aren't nearly the only country where capitalism takes away peoples reasonable access to a balanced diet, and the USA does get slack on a lot of things for a lot of very good reasons. but... maybe that shouldn't fall on the oppressed people living here? especially not based on bigoted misconceptions? there are no conditions on not being a bigotted asshole to someone. not facing bigotry isn't supposed to be a privilege. and it doesn't have to be an acutely life-or-death bigotry to matter.

addendum: also whether a food is "unhealthy" is heavily subjective and reliant on the individuals health needs at the time. sometimes people really need that salty as fuck pack of potato chips... like a disabled person with electrolyte issues! or a poor person who hasn't had enough to eat!

tl;dr if you keep going on about how disgusting americans are because of our food, you're just fatphobic and ableist.

[amazinglyegg]

What the companions would make you if they had access to a kitchen:

Cait

I'm thinking a nice stir-fry or rice with a shit ton of vegetables and PROTEIN

Of course she loves her protein

Hmm or maybe a lasagna. Nice and dense.

Whatever she makes, there'll be enough of it to go around

She gives off food insecurity to me so I feel like she prefers to take her food and eat alone most days

But you WILL have a shitton of leftovers!

Codsworth

A nice breakfast spread like what you'd see in movies.

French toast, eggs (sunny side up or your preference if he knows it), bacon, several options of cereal in those little fancy cereal dispensers, pancakes or waffles depending on your preference, fresh fruit laid out...

And of course a glass of orange juice

He wants nothing more than for you (and anyone else you're sharing the meal with) to sit down and enjoy while he cleans the dishes and helps out

Just like old times <3

Curie

Baking time!!!!

Cookies are her go-to

Does that thing where you use your thumbprint to make a heart shape and fills it with jam

They come out perfect every time. She leaves them out on a plate and they're gone within a minute

Just be warned she might eat the cookie dough. Would definitely make edible cookie dough just to eat it raw at like 1am

Danse

He's a protein shake and plain hard boiled eggs type of guy

He wouldn't make you a meal, but would mealprep your entire week for you

(It's just plastic tupperware of boiled eggs and like, one whole carrot)

If he HAD to make an actual warm meal it'd probably look exactly like Brotherhood rations

Mashed potatos, plain crackers, and some vague meat in sauce

Deacon

This man lives like he will be killed via sniper if he ever expresses a genuine feeling

So as much as I'd like to say he'd make a meal that's really important to him, he'd probably just grab the nearest cookbook and pick a random recipe

Not even he knows what it's gonna be like until it's made

He also doesn't want to be associated with a certain meal so he'll only make it once or twice. If you want it again then YOU have to cook it!

If he's completely alone and just making something for himself, then maybe a nice sandwich or sub

I don't know why but he just gives off sandwich vibes

Dogmeat

Can't cook

He would, however, oversee the situation and taste test when needed

Gage

Grill dad

He'd make like, ribs and baked potatoes. Nice and filling and also pretty damn messy

Not too big on vegetable but he'd also grill like, corn on the cob or maybe some skewers

Chicken wings perhaps???

Maccready

Weird food combinations is this man's bread and butter (or bread and ketchup)

He WILL hand you a turkey sandwich with ketchup and potato chips in it. And it will taste good.

Or like, steak sushi. Spaghetti on pizza. Mayo dumplings?

He can make basically anything, but he just has some really weird preferences

If you can get over the strangeness it's actually pretty decent

Nick

Toast and black coffee <3

That's it

I mean like he'll make you tea or something if you don't like coffee

Pre-war Nick always had toast and coffee for breakfast in the morning so it's nostalgic to him

Old Longfellow

"Oh he'd make a fish based meal" NO. He lives next to the water he's probably SO DAMN TIRED OF FISH

Chicken noodle soup maybe, but like high quality chicken noodle soup with some nice spices

Or maybe a pot roast??

Piper

Weirdly enough, as much as she loves sweets I feel like she'd be a much better cook than a baker

She'd make a nice well rounded meal with protein, carbs, 1-2 vegetables. Gotta make sure Nat's eating well

Not huge on spices though. Like your mashed potatoes will be buttery and smooth as fuck but you're limited to like basic box gravy and maybe salt and pepper.

I feel like she can and will make an entire turky dinner. Just out of nowhere. There's like 7 different sides and an apple pie Curie made.

Preston

Oh this man will make a MEAN stew

It's his go-to. He can share it if needed, have leftovers to feed himself for multie days, and it's versatile

I'm thinking either radstag or brahmin meat, or maybe a bone stock, but in the past he's made stews out of basically anything, from bugs to deathclaw meat

He also has a soft spot for campfires and would love to roast marshmallows or cook hotdogs or something around a fire

X6-88

Grabs an apple for himself and leaves.

The Institute eats SUPPLEMENT PACKETS there is NO WAY this man knows how to cook

He's probably a picky eater too, and he only likes those packets

He's gonna be living off a diet of applesauce and ensure for a long while

Honestly he might enjoy taking his food (any food) and putting it in a blender. It fixes the sensory aspect of it.

[sequinsmile-x]

Okay first: I love all your fics, I love rereading all of them. Always something to keep me busy😌

Now second: I had an idea while watching criminal minds again. How about that: Emily and Aaron are at least a few years in their relationship and everybody knows that. Emily’s at a Girl’s Night at Garcia and Aaron picks her up but he quickly realizes that she’s very weird, not like drunken Emily. It turns out that Penelope backed normal brownies and some pot brownies for her neighbors (or someone else) but she switched them and Emily had some of them.

Just some funny and fluffy high Emily content

have a great week😄

Thanks so so much bestie <3

I really hope you like this. This prompt immediately set my brain on fire so here we are haha

Hopefully, this makes you laugh, humour is the hardest thing to write by far!!

-x-

High Spirits

Aaron picks Emily up from girl's night at Penelope's. It's something he's done countless times before, but this time something is different.

-x-

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: Drug use, weed use, high characters

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

He can hear the giggling through the door the moment he arrives. 

He knows his wife would insist that she doesn’t giggle, her expression indigent as she said that’s what little girls did, not Section Chiefs at the FBI, but it’s the only way he can describe the sound. He knocks on Penelope’s front door and sighs when he hears her yell that it is open, his usual admonishment that she should lock her apartment door at all times caught in his throat when he walks in, his eyebrows furrowed at the sight he’s greeted with. 

Aaron had found Emily, JJ and Penelope in all kinds of conditions over the years. He’d picked Emily up from countless nights out, including her bachelorette party when her eyes were unfocused thanks to tequila and a mostly empty stomach whilst the other two wore cardboard cutout masks of his face, and it was usually some degree of the same chaos. She’d greet him with a wide smile, stumble over to see him and kiss him, the taste of whatever they’d been drinking pressed against his lips, her hands wandering across his body in a way they usually wouldn’t in front of their friends. 

This time, she’s half laid on the couch, her head against the armrest, her legs in a wide stance with her socked feet on the floor. JJ is lying in a similar position on the other end of the couch, their knees knocking together, and Penelope is in her armchair. They all have a large bag of potato chips each, each of them picking out of the bag with chopsticks, and there’s half a batch of brownies on the coffee table, the other half clearly having been eaten. 

“Hi honey,” Emily says, waving him over, her smile lazy as she sits up enough to kiss him, the taste of salt and vinegar passing from her lips to his, “Would you like a chip?”

He considers refusing, but she already has one offered out to him with the chopsticks, barely giving him a chance to respond before she feeds it to him, “What’s with the chopsticks?” 

“Stops your fingers from getting greasy,” she says, furrowing her brow at him as if it was something she did every day. 

“Your wife is a genius,” JJ says as she sits up too, her smile as relaxed as Emily’s, and he looks around, surprised to see no half-empty glasses of wine next to them. 

“And she’s gorgeous,” Penelope adds, “You really lucked out, sir.” 

He smiles, “How many times do I have to say that you don’t have to call me sir?” He says, reaching out to steady Emily as she sits all the way up, her coordination slightly off. He sits on the arm of the couch and wraps his arm around her shoulders, “I haven’t been your boss for almost a decade.” 

He’d quit the FBI when Hazel, their eldest daughter, was born 8 years ago. It was an argument he and Emily had for most of her pregnancy, each of them insistent that the other shouldn’t have to be the one to leave, but ultimately she’d seen his point of view, had understood that he saw this as a chance to get it right this time. It was a decision that only made more sense when she was promoted to Section Chief when she went back to work after their youngest, Ivy, was born. A promotion she took gladly with both hands because it meant she could be home more, her hours more regular now she was no longer heading up the team. Her famous hatred of politics and everything that came with it took a backseat to her desire to spend more time with him and their children, and he knew that any bad days she had the counterweight of what was waiting for her at home. He knew she struggled sometimes, and hated the way people didn’t understand why she was a working mom when she didn’t need to be, but he understood and he reminded her as often as she needed to hear it. 

“I know,” Penelope grumbles, her nose scrunching up, “But I don’t think I can ever get used to calling you Aaron. It’s still weird to hear Peaches call you that sometimes.” 

Emily giggles, again, and she leans her head against Aaron’s shoulder, “He’s my husband, Pen. And the father of my kids. Wouldn’t it be weird if I called him Hotch? Or Sir.” 

“Doesn’t he like it when you call him that during-”

“Okay that’s enough of that,” Emily says, her cheeks slightly red as she pats JJ’s knee, her eyes wide as she cuts her off. 

Aaron narrows his eyes curiously. She was usually loose-lipped about their sex lives when she was drunk, happy to let the odd detail slip out between shots and cocktails, somehow always careful to not entirely embarrass him. But this was different, her interruption of JJ a sign that she wasn’t drunk, despite what the rest of her behaviour and body language was telling him. He looks back and forth between them all, then at the half a batch of brownies in between them, and then back at his wife. He finally notices the slight redness of her eyes, the shininess to them that made them seem like deep dark pools he’d always come close to drowning in, and he suddenly remembers a conversation he’d overheard a few months ago between Penelope and Luke when she mentioned she’d tried to bake with cannabis butter. 

They weren’t drunk. 

They were high. 

“Wait,” he says, looking between them all, “Are you…high?” 

Emily groans and presses her forehead against his shoulder before she turns to look at her friends, “I told you he’d figure it out.” 

“I am so sorry sir…Hotch,” Penelope says, finally sitting up, “I made brownies for tonight and used the wrong butter, and it was only when we were half a batch in that we realised. I put the wine away the moment I knew-”

He cuts her off by raising his hand and smiling, “It’s okay, I can see where this is going,” he says, trying and failing to hide his amusement at her panic. He turns to look at his wife, pressing his lips together to try and contain his smile at the sheepish look on her face. He tucks some of her hair behind her ear, a tender moment between the two of them that draws a delighted gasp from Penelope, “Ready to go home, sweetheart?” He asks and she nods so he turns to look at JJ, “Do you need me to drive you home?” 

She shakes her head and responds with a mouth full of potato chips, “Will is coming to pick me up.” 

He nods and looks at his wife as he stands to grab her shoes for her, “We’d better get going, Jack is in charge and we both know the girls will convince him of anything if they wake up whilst I’m here.” 

Jack was, without a doubt, the most responsible 16-year-old Aaron had ever met. The teenager was beyond sensible and sometimes Aaron and Emily would try and encourage him to have more fun with his friends, but he was always at his happiest at home with his parents and little sisters. Aaron knew it was a reaction to what he’d been through when he was young, a result of being torn from everything he’d known when he was too little to understand and losing his mother shortly afterwards. There were times when it would make Aaron feel guilty, fear that he’d somehow stopped his son from living his life to the fullest by failing to protect him all those years ago a heavy weight in his gut, but Emily would always talk him out of it. She’d remind him how happy Jack was, that he was because Aaron had kept his promise to Haley, and she’d smile, a mischievous tint to it, when she’d say he would have always ended up on the serious side anyway because he was half him. 

Emily nods as she puts on her shoes, “Can we go to Taco Bell first?” She asks, smiling as she stands up, “I’m hungry.” She says, her smile getting wider as she reaches for his hand, her attempt to bat her eyelashes at him slightly diminished by the red rim of her eyes. Aaron looks at the empty bag of chips next to where she’d been sitting, and then at the pile of abandoned dishes in the kitchen, a sure sign they’d eaten a big meal, before he looks back at his wife and he sighs at the look on her face. 

Jack wasn’t the only one who was incapable of saying no to the Hotchner women. 

“Of course, sweetheart.” 

___

He’s strangely impressed by the number of tacos Emily eats in the car, all five that she’d ordered already gone by the time they get home, her large Baja Blast the only evidence left that they’d gone at all. 

When they get in the house it’s quiet, all three kids in their rooms, and he’s grateful for it, determined to get his wife into bed as soon as possible so she could sleep off the rest of her high. 

“Do you have my drink?” Emily asks, her voice a little louder than usual as they climb the stairs, one of her hands in his and the other on the bannister as he guides her. 

He smiles and holds up the plastic cup so she can see it, “I still have it, sweetheart. Now let's try to not wake up the kids.” He says, making a point to keep his voice low. She hums as she gets to the top of the stairs and makes a beeline for Hazel’s room, something he stops by grabbing her hand, “Where are you going?” 

She pouts, another thing she’d deny in the morning along with the giggling, as she tries to step towards Ivy’s room instead, another thing he stops by squeezing her hand, “Going to see my babies.” 

His smile gets impossibly wider and he kisses her cheek, tugging her against her side, “You can see them in the morning,” he says, encouraging her towards their bedroom, “They’re asleep.” 

She’s cut off from responding by Jack’s bedroom door opening and the teenager stepping out into the hall, his smile amused as Emily pulls him into a tight hug, murmuring that he is her biggest baby as he hugs her back.  “Everything okay?” 

“Everything’s fine, Jack,” Aaron says as Emily steps back from Jack to her husband's side “We’re just going to bed. Did your sisters give you any trouble whilst I was gone?” 

Jack shakes his head, his focus on Emily as he narrows his eyes curiously, “No, they didn’t even wake up,” he looks at his father, then the drink in his hand, then back at Emily, his eyes going wide when he notices her slightly bloodshot eyes, “Wait…you hate Taco Bell, Mom. I heard you say to Dad once that it’s only good for the munchies…” his smile goes wide, realisation clicking in his head as Aaron closes his eyes, “Wait, Mom are you high?” 

Aaron groans, “Jack-”

Emily shushes Jack as she reaches out to pat his shoulder, “It was an accident.” 

He frowns, “How do you get accidentally-”

“Your Aunt Pen used the wrong butter when baking brownies,” Aaron says and Jack chuckles, leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom. 

“Wow, well she’d better be more careful when she makes Ivy’s birthday cake next month.” 

Aaron chuckles and nods, “Trust me, buddy, I already thought about it,” he wraps his arm around Emily’s shoulders, “Go to bed, we’ll see you in the morning.” 

Jack hums, his amusement still clear, and Aaron knows this won’t be the last they hear about this, “See you in the morning.” 

Aaron leads Emily directly into their ensuite and closes the toilet lid before he encourages her to sit down on it, “I’ll help you take your makeup off and then we’ll get you ready for bed, okay?” 

She blows out a breath, tucking her hair behind her ears as he grabs her makeup remover, “I can’t believe my son knows I got high,” she grumbles, covering her eyes for a moment as Aaron kneels in front of her, his knees protesting it as they meet the tiled floor, “This is so embarrassing.” 

Aaron chuckles and encourages her to remove her hands from her face so he can start to remove her makeup for her, ensuring he’s gentle as he swipes the cotton pads across her skin, “It’s not embarrassing, sweetheart,” he says, smiling as she looks at him, “Although, I probably wouldn’t tell your boss since you’re an FBI agent and it’s still a crime federally even if it is legal here.” 

She reaches out and runs her fingers through his hair, watching intently as the light catches on the flecks of grey throughout it, “You’re not ashamed of me?” 

He shakes his head and stops his task of taking her makeup off to lean in to kiss her, “Never.” 

She raises her eyebrow at him, “Never? Even if I killed someone?” 

He smiles at the hypothetical, “Who do you think would help you hide the body?” 

She kisses him and leans back, closing her eyes so he can continue to take off her makeup, “Have you ever done it?” 

“What? Killed someone, or accidentally eaten a pot brownie made by Penelope?” 

She kicks out at him lightly, her foot connecting with his thigh before he catches it, squeezing it gently for a moment before he lets go, “No,” she says, rolling her eyes when she looks at him, “I mean have you ever been high?” 

“Once,” he admits, smiling when her eyes go wide in shock, “It was during college. It was at a party and it was Haley’s idea,” he dumps the last of the used cotton pads in the trash can and helps her up, “I hated it.” 

She smiles softly as she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him close, “Yeah?” 

“We smoked it and my lungs felt like they were melting, and then I got incredibly paranoid and hid in a closet for the majority of the party,” he admits, the tips of his ears burning with embarrassment as she chuckles, “Haley found me asleep in there a couple of hours later.” 

“That’s…the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” Emily says as she leans in to kiss him. When she pulls back she rests her head on his shoulder and sighs contentedly, “Honey?” 

“Yes, sweetheart?” 

“I’m hungry again.” 

He chuckles and pulls back to look at her, “There are some dino nuggets for the girls in the freezer, do you want me to cook you some?” 

She nods and kisses him again, “You’re the best husband ever.” 

He hums, trying and failing once again to hide his amusement, “Get into bed and I’ll go and make you your third dinner of the day.” 

“Don’t munchie shame me,” she says as she walks out of the bathroom, her smile mischievous as she looks at him over her shoulder, “At least I’m not curled up in the closet.” 

He groans and pinches the bridge of his nose before he leaves the bedroom and heads downstairs, muttering to himself under his breath as he goes, cursing himself for somehow forgetting that his wife never forgot anything. 

“I’m so going to regret telling her that.” 

[spooniechef]

Emergency Calories (0-1 Spoon)

Food can be a struggle on really bad days, no matter what the circumstances are. You hurt too much to make something, or maybe it’s the thought of the dishes afterwards that’s too daunting to bear. Maybe you’re too brain-fogged for whatever reason to decide on a thing to actually make, or hyperfocused too long on something and come out of it so hungry that it’s turned to nausea and/or headache, and the thought of any real food is sickening. Either way, the problem’s the same - too much hunger, not enough spoons to fix the problem.

The way I’ve found to deal with that is to keep a small stock of emergengy calories on hand; the kind of thing that needs minor preparation at most, and at most one dish and a utensil. Most of them don’t even need that much. Sometimes, just the act of cramming some emergency calories into my face has unlocked enough spoons to be able to manage an actual meal. So here’s a list of the emergency calories that have been my saviours, particularly since my fibromyalgia diagnosis.

Peanuts: zero prep, zero utensil, zero spoons. Peanuts (and most other nuts, if you’ve got a peanut allergy) are high in protein and fat, because nut oil, and while not particularly high in carbs, they’ve got enough to be going on with. This makes them a quick-burn and a slow-burn food, and can be supplemented with other things that are higher in carbohydrates to get more of a quick pick-me-up. Thing is, it’s the longer-term energy that I tend to be going for when I shove a handful of peanuts into me, since I’m generally hoping that it’ll perk me up enough to make an actual meal. That’s why I keep a bag of salted peanuts in the cupboard; if I can’t make myself prepare anything and need something a little more substantial than the usual snack foods, I’ll just pour myself a handful and munch.

Dried fruit: zero prep, utensils, and spoons, at least in terms of consumption. I have a whole entry planned about why a dehydrator is the best investment anyone who lives with a really tight spoon budget can make, but if you don’t have one, store-bought dried fruit is fine. A little expensive, maybe, but sticking with raisins helps with that, and getting those little snack-boxes of raisins may end up a nice little nostalgia trip back to elementary school lunches and that one trick-or-treat house no one really wanted to go to because the raisins weren’t even chocolate-coated. For something that feels a little more prepared and tastes a little more interesting, mixing raisins and peanuts is really nice, giving an interesting range of textures and flavours. Sometimes a handful of peanuts plus a little box of raisins can unlock a whole spoon with which to cook an actual meal, I’ve found.

Potato chips: zero prep, utensils, and spoons. Maybe not the healthiest choice, but sometimes it’s the only choice. They recommend plain salted chips (or crisps) for chemotherapy patients for a reason; they’re easy on the stomach and help replenish lost salts. Whether they’re fixing a salt deficiency, fixing a blood sugar deficiency, or just a placebo, I don’t care; I find a little bag of crisps settles my stomach when I’ve left it too long between meals and have the nausea as a result.

Rice cakes or crackers: minimal-to-zero prep, utensils, and spoons. It all depends on how you’re eating them. You can have them plain - they even have flavoured rice cakes now - and that takes no spoons or anything. On the other hand, if you’re up to picking up a knife or pulling something out of the fridge, rice cakes and crackers are a good, light, easy-on-the-stomach alternative as a vessel for something that actually tastes of something. For instance:

Peanut butter: minimal prep, utensils, and spoons. Peanut butter (or any other nut butter, again accounting for allergies) can be eaten with a finger out of the jar if you’re really having a bad day, but if you can manage a spoon, just eating a couple of spoonfuls from the jar works just as well. There’s also the option of dipping something like dried banana or apple chips or something into the peanut butter and eating it that way, if you’ve gone the dried fruit route. However, if you can manage a knife and maybe a plate, this provides scope for peanut butter sandwiches or just peanut butter spread on rice cakes. If inspired that way, there could even be PB&J. It’s shelf-stable, so it doesn’t go bad very quickly, and has the same basic benefits as the nuts on their own. Maybe more sugar and/or salt, is all.

Sliced lunch meat: minimal-to-zero prep, utensils, and spoons. Like the rice cakes - in fact, part of why the rice cakes are there is because they can be part of a low-spoon charcuterie board sort of set-up. Way less expensive than Lunchables. Or, if you just need some protein that isn’t a nut, just roll up a piece of whatever lunch meat you’ve picked up and nosh away. Same basic thing as jerky or dried sausages, but both those can be kind of salty and a bit more effort to eat than someone might be up for, and both are a lot harder to put on a cracker.

Cheese: minimal-to-zero prep, utensils, and spoons. Whether real cheese, Kraft Singles, or some lactose-free version of cheese, it’s still got protein and fat and is useful for something you can just quickly eat right out of the fridge, or spread on crackers if it’s cream cheese or soft cheese, or slap together a cheese sandwich with. A versatile way of getting your protein in on the same tier as the lunch meat.

The deciding factors on all of these are how long they take to go bad. Fresh fruit is a great snack but any time you buy fruit, you’re making a commitment to either eating it all before it goes off or wasting food, and that latter’s a pretty common outcome, particularly when some of one’s symptoms can lead to forgetfulness. That’s another one I’ll point out in the dehydrator-related entry, but for now, sticking strictly with the basics - that these are good, solid snack options for days when there are just no spoons left, and are sometimes effective enough to replenish a spoon for cooking a real meal. Just the one, generally, but it’s like one of those tiny minor mana potions you get in video games; sometimes that one spoon is the difference between getting something done and not. It’s enough, sometimes.

These are just my recommendations for the little essentials that should be sitting in the cupboard somewhere in case of emergencies - the kinds of things that I’ve learned will keep me going when I’m struggling and too hungry to function. If you’ve got any further ideas for little snacks for bad days, additions are welcome. I haven’t put soups in here because they’re not really near-instant calorie sources; I’ll touch on soups another time.

[grungeeuvu]

All of the questions for the ask game :)

Oh crikey, okay uhhh-

1. Chipotle order?

I've never been to Chipotle (idek if they're in the UK, I've never seen one before)

2. Thoughts on veganism?

I am impressed by those who have a vegan diet, I am not impressed with those who try to change my diet to fit with their views, and I am not strong enough to stick to that kind of diet :')

3. A specific colour that gives you an ick?

I don't really know? A sickly orange maybe? I've never really thought about it hmm

4. Mythical creature that you think/believe to be real?

D R A G O N S.

5. Favourite form of potatoes?

Hmmm. Maybe crisps. Salt and vinegar crisps 👍

More under the cut!! :))

6. Do you use a watch?

At the moment, I do not

7. What animal do you look forward to seeing when you go to an aquarium?

Stingrays and sharks!!

8. Do you change into specific clothes for the house when you get home?

Nah, not unless I've been caught in the rain

9. Do you have a skincare routine?

Nope :) I just use a face wash when I have a shower and that's it

10. When on a plane, do you ask for apple juice or orange juice?

Usually I get water, but I'll probably pick apple juice bc I don't know if the orange juice has bits in

11. Anything from your childhood that you've held onto?

Technically I'm still a child but I've got loads and loads of old toys and a blanket given to me at birth which was dubbed "Night Night" and he stays in my bed 💪

12. Brand of haircare/bodycare/skincare you trust 100%?

L'Occitane 👍👍👍 it's expensive but very good. For cheaper stuff, Tresemme

13. First thing you're doing in the purge?

Hiding. I ain't that stupid.

14. Do you think you're dehydrated?

Judging by the fact I've only had half a pint of water all day, probably 😎

15. Rank the methods of death: freezing, burning, drowning.

From worst to best, Drowning, Freezing, Burning.

16. Thoughts on mint chocolate chip?

Any kind of mint makes me feel really sick so I'm not a fan 😭😭 even the smell makes me ill

17. An anxious compulsion you do every day?

Pick at my split ends or the cracked skin on my lips.

18. Your boba/tea order?

Never had boba and not a fan of tea!

19. The veggie you dislike the most?

Mushrooms. I hate them.

20. Favourite Disney princess movie?

MULAN. HANDS DOWN. MULAN. I have memories of me in nursery singing 'Reflection' to a gathered group of younger toddlers. Very nice memory :))

21. A number that weirds you out?

I do not trust 46. It's evil.

22. Do you have an emotional support water bottle?

Um....... No?

23. Do you wear jewelry?

Yes, quite a lot! I mostly wear multiple rings and necklaces, and the occasional bracelet. No earrings tho, bc my ears aren't pierced yet lol

24. Do you find yourself using American or British English?

Definitely British, it's just superior. We don't say 'erb' for example.... 👀

25. Would you say you have good taste in music?

Absolutely! :) I've always got a song to recommend to people

26. How's your spice tolerance?

Not very good but, according to my dad, I have a heightened sense of taste so I'm not too surprised. Idm things a bit spicy but I'm not a big fan 😔

27. What's your favourite or go-to outfit?

Rose Docmartins, black tights, black skirt, the top I got from a Bon Jovi concert and my purple-patch jacket is my favourite but it's not my most fashionable choice, I'll be honest lol

28. Last meal on earth?

Toad in the hole with Heinz baked beans and some ketchup. Not healthy but my favourite. (And maybe cheesecake for pudding!!)

29. Preferred pasta noodle?

Uhhhh idk my types of pasta beyond the dishes ngl-

And 30 is ask me anything so I guess you get a free question? Lmao this took forever 😭

[lux-refracted-light]

As a person who's lived in both places, I will totally roast both countries

Insults towards the British (specifically English):

Your cuisine has no flavor. Except beans on toast and cheese on crumpets, that shit slaps. And you can make desserts--if anyone says your desserts are bad, I'll fight them

You add too many fucking us in your words. What are you, French? Colour doesn't need a u. Also you refuse to see the sexiness of a z instead of an s in other words. Like yes the s looks more refined but the z is sexy so it stays.

You have free healthcare but proceed to make it worse than it already is by defunding it. Buddy you have like 2 CAT scanners in your entire country, I think you should be pro-funding it.

You are TERF island. It's ironic that the US is actually better for trans rights than you are, because we're not that good at trans rights.

You make public school kids wear uniforms and have no self-expression, like wtf is that about. Also can't stalkers more easily identify where your child goes to school if they have their uniform on???

Your slang sounds so fake, I'm sorry but it does. You can't tell me you actually say bangers and mash and toad in the hole and chuffed to bits. You can't be serious, you're doing it for the bit, right?

Some of your snacks sound like they have fake names. This is only half an insult because I actually like hula-hoops and quavers and wotsits but they have such silly names.

Chips is the crunchy thing, fries is the thing that's chewy inside, and crisps don't fucking exist. Fuck you.

You don't know what nachos are. You pronounce them wrong, use flour tortilla chips, and put ketchup in your salsa. What the fuck is wrong with you. I hate what you've done to my nachos.

When the best pizza England has is Domino's, you know you have done something wrong. Tuna and sweetcorn pizza is a crime against humanity.

While I'm at it, it's cute that you think your baked potatoes have jackets, but why are you putting tuna and sweetcorn and mayonnaise in it. You're ruining a perfectly good baked potato.

You didn't photoshop Boris Johnson, a man you called BoJo, onto photos of banjos enough. I was the only one I knew doing that. Fuck that racist banjo.

All your immigrants have to be in the big cities, I never met a person who wasn't white out in the country in England. Let them out and enjoy the rural lifestyle please? Please there was only one other non-white kid in the small village I was in PLEASE

You haven't gotten rid of your monarchy yet, and still worship them as celebrities. Buddy they are living off your taxes, they can be celebrities once you don't pay them money when they're already rich, and start giving it people who actually need it.

Insults towards USAmericans:

You aren't the only country in the Americas, not even in North America, stop acting special

You use way too much salt and synthetically made chemicals. Some of that is fine but it doesn't need to be in every goddamn thing

You think wearing your own flag and pledging allegiance to it is normal. Buddy that's a piece of cloth

English people spell grey right actually. Don't tell me to put an a in that bitch, grey is always going to be an e-type of word

You think your cheddar cheese slices are real cheese. Don't talk to me or my blue stilton ever again, unless you're putting it on a burger or a sandwich, in which case that is perfectly acceptable behavior

Your conservatives literally hate everybody and aren't even shy about it. At least in England they pretend to give a shit about their victims while they kill people. USAmerican conservatives can go "I love killing Mexicans and Jews and Black people and queers" and people will still be like "ok" and vote for them. England conservatives will be ousted for fucking a dead pig in college, and if they say a slur they have to at least make a 10-minute apology, and they can't just say "yeah I hate these people for an unchangeable facet of their identity" outright, they have to dress it up in dogwhistles.

Why are guns. Seriously why do we still have them and feel so attached to them. Please it's not funny anymore, the kids are dying because bastards with guns are shooting them. Please.

Your public school food just fucking sucks ass. Seriously, when I lived in England, where the baseline food tastiness was lower, their school food was still better than yours. Come back when you have pizza baguettes and unpackaged muffins and elderflower blackcurrant soda in a bottle!!!

Why is there a suspicious lack of banana flavored milk. Like guys you're missing out on the banana milk, it's the good shit

Adding on to this, Hershey's is only good for s'mores and anyone who eats a Hershey's bar by itself is my enemy. Go get you some Lindt or Cadbury's, Milka if you aren't allergic to hazelnuts, and your eyes will be opened to a whole new world of chocolate.

Most Americans don't know what nachos are either. You expect my to call your fritos and fake cheese sauce nachos??? No, the cheese needs to be baked on top, and you have to put a bit of salsa and sour cream on there. Otherwise that's just pre-dipped chips.

You don't even have sidewalks or public transportation most places. What the fuck, how are people supposed to get around without a car???

Yeah I think I aired out every grievance I had with both countries ever, except for maybe the ones with predominant religious groups, but they tend to be much the same across countries sooo

-Chara

European: Americans will be like I’m going to watch a whore movie and eat a hamburger slathered in lard

Americans: it’s true I do do this.

American: British people will be like alright I’m off to eat some wheezy bangers (beans and bread out of a can)

Brit: I’ve seen this reblogged by several people I normally trust so: How mocking British cuisine and dialect has a long classist history and how it became frighteningly normalized on an American (uniquely cruel, uniquely ignorant) internet: a thread. 1/?

[mechazushi]

Salt Kick {a Sk8 the Infinity story} [Renga]

Preamble] I'mma be honest with ya'll.... I don't like how this turned out. I made this almost three? years ago I think? and I just.... some parts of this feel off. I hadn't finished Sk8 the Infinity ( I still haven't, mainly because I had watched all the crack vids on YouTube before I watched it so I already had a jist on how it goes. I just wanted to have the ability to say I watched it and finally figure out what scenes went in what order. I stopped at the beach episode, I know what comes next and I still can't bring myself to watch 😭) But I had enough of a hyperfixation to push this out. Much like giving birth, the more you make, the easier it gets, so consider this my first child that had me completely unprepared for the amount of labor I was about to go through and might of screwed up the initial parenting on. I will say this... I only really hate it because Reki feels out of character, but that's because I sacrificed his development to push a more Langa focused story (its entirely from Langa's perspective) I only threw in a few lines on his end because I wanted to imply that the pinning might be mutual without outright saying it until the end, but I hate how I handled it. That being said, this will not be getting a rewrite. I passed GO and collected the money years ago and this is how it will be staying. Hopefully, I will have finished the show before I write the next ones.

Notes] Nothing here to worry about, really. Just Renga. And Kissing.

Summary] Langa develops the worst salt tooth, but can't find anything to satisfy it. Can he figure it out before it drives him into an asylum, or is he past the point of no return already?

Can somebody who's in the Sk8 the Infinity fandom read this because I want this peer reviewed before I put this on Ao3.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

From the moment Langa woke up, he felt off. He wasn't sure what it was about exactly, just… nothing clicked into place inside his head this morning. Which, if you knew him, is pretty much par for the course. He went through the motions. Got dressed, got his bag and school work together and met his mom at the table for breakfast.

"Morning Langa!" his mother, Nanako chirped, plateing something from a pot that was simmering on the stove."You ready for another day?"

"Morning." he said simply, sliding into his seat at the table, his brain seeing it only fit to process the bare minimun today.

"Now, I know you're a little hesitent when I try cooking new things, especially first thing in the morning, but taste tests show that this might accually be pretty good!", she said, confidently putting down a bowl of congee in front of Langa, cooked in chicken broth and served with eggs, bacon, and sauteed mushrooms, arranged like how a ramon bowl would. Langa, absent of mind, started spooning the meal into his mouth.Wait. Hold on. This was... good. Not that his mom ever made anything truly horrible; anything she made was, for the most part, edible. It was...just... missing something? He reached for the salt shaker, dusted his next spoonfull with it, and...

THERE. Right there. That's what this was missing. What he felt like he was missing all morning. Salt. He was just salt deficent. Which was odd for the amount of junk food he injested on a daily basis. Langa then preceded to almost violently shake the salt over his bowl of food.

"Wow. I know I forget to season things sometimes, but I thought it was okay?", His mother said, somewhat astonished at the speed her son was shoveling the now overly salted breakfast into his mouth currently. Langa paused and looked up at her, taking a second to think about what she just said.

"Oh! Sorry, I'm just… Really in the mood for salt today.", he said.

"I can see that.", Nanako quietly chuckled. The meal was quickly wrapped up, with the mom needing to head into work and Langa to school. Before he left however, he snagged a bag of potato chips of the top of the fridge, not stopping to see what flavor they were. Langa grabbed his skateboard and raced to his spot by the lampost, eagerly awaiting his… well, to be honest… he couldn't really think of Reki as a friend anymore. It had just been a few months after the race. The one against Adam… The one after Adam, too. And a WHOLE lot of other races afterword as well. Fun, personal ones. Just between Reki and him. Gun to his head, Langa would describe them as… almost… intimate. Crusing through the hills and tracks, the morning light or the evening dusky atmoshere blanketing them…just the two of them and whatever bubble of a world they found themselves in whenever Reki and Langa skated together, oblivious to everyone and everything. Maybe you wouldn't even need the gun to get him to say it.

' You might have to with Reki, though.' Langa thought as his personal ray of flaming sunshine came cruising down the sidewalk.

"GOOOOD MORNING LANGA!" Reki cheered, power sliding to a stop in front of him. They did their morning fist bump ritual and proceeded to cruise down the hill toward their school, with Reki leading the way. This was how it almost always went, Reki in the lead and Langa not far behind. Unless he had a trick he though he could pull off that would impress Reki, Langa almost never pulled ahead. Content to let the impressively red-headed high schooler light the path forward. Just the two of them, skating infinitely together. Langa popped open the bag of chips as Reki managed to land a rail grind in his somewhat restrictive school uniform. How he managed to fit his hoodie of the day under the jacket, Langa will never know.

He knew Reki didn't think of himself like this, but Langa always found him to be impressive and talented . He was always aware of how Reki's skateboard building skills were amazingly inventive, since he was the proud owner of a truly custom board. He felt Reki's talent was practically unmatched, next to Oka's of course. But Oka more or less just filled in paperwork and managed inventory, he hardly completed the boards he started nowadays. It was Reki's eye for detail and constant desire to improve everything that made all of Dope Sketch's boards unique.

That was another thing about him. Constant determination. It never mattered what it was applied to, Reki could always set his mind to the grindstone for it; you know, when he wasn't being completely scatterbrained and actually had motivation. Langa could go on forever about all the hidden strengths he thought his skating buddy had, but he knew Reki wouldn't hear them.

'Getting Reki to accept a compliment is like trying to teach someone to ollie for the first time' Langa chuckled at the thought, 'It takes a few tries, but it gets though. I know.'

After everything their friendship went through, they promised each other that they would get better about talking to each other. Not letting feelings bottle up and fester and making attempts to communicate genuinely. Neither one wanted to go through that feeling of loneliness and abandonment ever again. This was mostly for Reki's benefit, but Langa guessed he would have to lead by example if he was ever going to get Reki to open up in the first place. Speaking of open, he put a chip in his mouth and recoiled.

"BLAAA, wasabi flavored." he said, disappointed.

"You OK?" Reki said, turning to look at him.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just picked up my mom's wasabi chips by mistake. You want them?"

"Yeah, sure. Could use the wake up this morning.", Langa sped up to hand off the bag to his friend.

"Do you think we've got time to stop at a vending machine before we head in?" Langa asked.

"Why? Didn't get the chance to inhale the whole fridge today?" Reki said jokingly, pouring the contents of the bag in his mouth and wincing.

"Ha, ha, very funny. Just felt like something salty before class." Reki's presence had managed to distract Langa from his cravings for a short while, but the chips had caused his brain to hop back on its unyielding track.

Which, of course, got worse as they neared the school grounds and heard the final bell for class

"Whelp, guess thats a no!" Reki laughed.

Langa groaned, thinking that this better not somehow ruin his day.

The pair sped to class and, by a miracle, both of them made it in without repercussions. The two sat down and settled in as the teacher walked in to start the lesson.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The day went by as you would normally expect. Take notes, change classes , raise hands or duck questions depending on if they could answer them or not. You would think that the day would pass by uneventful, right? Yeah... about that.... This was Langa's third class period, and this salt addiction of his was really starting to grate his nerves.

'Only one more period, then lunch. Few more minutes and I can have all the salt I can get my hands on. I can survive until then. RIGHT?', Langa panicked in his head.

This wasn't just bad, he felt like he was shaking.

'Maybe I can play this up and head to the nurse's office. There's a vending machine along the way, I think?'. At this point, he lost all capability of paying attention. 'No, That's stupid. I'm not going to let this control me.' Langa felt a little tap on his arm and looked at his classmate.

Reki held a small piece of paper between two pencils, held like chopsticks. Langa took the note quickly, as the teacher turned around. He opened it up and read it.

"U OK?"

"Need Salt :(" Langa scribbled quickly before taking two pens and, in a similar fashion, snuck the note back to Reki.

Reki shook his head and handed the note back again, this time writing "THAT BAD?!? BRUH." Langa couldn't believe it either. Cravings never got this bad. He actually couldn't remember the last time he HAD a craving.

While running memories through his head, an important reminder popped in the forefront of his mind. He had packed a snack in his bag for emergencies. This was days ago so he wasn't sure what they were, but Langa would take anything at this point. As stealthily as he could, Langa leaned forward and tried to sneak his hand into his bag that was hanging off the hook connected to his desk. It was so tantalizingly close.

Now all he had to do was find what should seem like a snack package. Books, notepad, erasers, more notepads… There! Langa pulled out a small bag of… something. He had Reki tell him what they were and had practiced pronouncing it several times. Jagar…something. All he could remember was that it was made of potato and, most importantly, was SALTY.

He tried to open the package as quietly as he could, but it made a bit more noise than he was comfortable with. Had Langa been his right mind, he wouldn't have be comfortable with this at all. It's amazing what addictions can do to a person, cause this stopped being a craving the second he stepped into class. Reki caught onto this as well, looking at Langa like he had lost his mind.

"Dude?" He mouthed, wondering why Langa thought now would be a good time to risk it all for food. While this was Langa we're talking about, the craving had just become too much. Langa was so close. He forced himself to clear his throat loudly as he opened the package the rest of the way. This little maneuver earned him some strange looks from class and teacher alike, but thankfully no one interrogated him about it.

Reki threw his head back in dramatic disbelief as Langa tried his best to shake out some sticks from the pouch. A couple of sneaky handfuls later and Langa felt another tap on his shoulder. Reki made a pitiful attempt to persuade Langa to hand him some as well. Langa looked around the room nervously, wondering if he should take the chance. Looking back, Reki had turned on the puppy dog eyes on full blast, causing all doubt to be cast from his head. Of course he should. Just because he's severely salt deficient, doesn't mean he should leave his friend out to starve.

Langa shook a few pieces into his hand under the desk. They had to wait for the teacher to turn around, which was taking forever. For a moment the teacher turned around to write on the board. He waited half a second to make sure he wasn't going to turn around, stretched his hand out and-

"Mr. Reki. What do you think you're doing?" The teacher called.

Well, shit. The happiness Langa felt by not being found out was immediately replaced with fear as he nor Reki had an excuse on hand to give the teacher.

"Well?" He said, waiting with an air of exasperated patience.

"Aahh, erh… uhhh?", Reki uttered, floundering for a response.

"I was… asking him a question." Langa belted out in defense.

"And why didn't you direct the question to me instead?", The teacher replied, questioning the legitimacy of the answer.

"Because?… It was a… dumb question?" Langa replied, shrugging into himself. The teacher sighed as threw his head back in aggravated contemplation. The air was thick with tension as the two waited for a response, wondering if today would be merciful. The teacher drew his head back into position and decreed,

"Whatever it is that you're doing, stop it. Do it again, and I'm holding you both after class.", pointing to the two of them before turning around and resuming teaching. Langa and Reki let out a sigh of release after which they exchanged the handful Langa was holding onto and didn't acknowledge each other until passing period.

"Okay, are we going to talk about what happened or…?" Reki said, leaning against the locker neighboring Langa's as the snowy bluenette changed out books in his book bag.

"I wanted a snack, I got a snack. Just… not used to sneaking in bites in class."

"Yeah, as much as you eat, you know better than to pull that kind of shit during class. What is up with you today?"

"I don't know. I'm just… really salt deficient today.", Langa replied, shutting his locker and walking away.

"No, that can't be it. You're not acting like you're deficient, you're acting like a crack addict jonesing for another hit. I know I shouldn't really be concerned, but I'm getting concerned." Reki said, hop-walking to catch up to Langa's long legs. Over the din of the bustling hallway, the pair heard Reki's text alert go off on his phone, causing the two to momentarily pause to see what it said.

"Oh, cool! Joe just sent over a game plan before we head to 'S'. Looks like we're meeting up with Shadow at the restaurant and carpooling over." Neither of them had to work that night, so after a change of clothes and dinner at Reki's, meant a long, glorious night of high-octane fun and excitement with the whole group!

"Sounds great! Can't wait to get out of here.", Reki said, looking up and catching Langa's smile.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Come on! We're going to be late!" Reki yelled, blazing down the smooth sidewalk.

"I don't know why you're worried. Its not like they're going to leave us behind.", Langa yelled back

"Shadow's the one driving and I wouldn't put it past him!", the redhead shouted back, pushing forward for more speed. Langa threw his head back and laughed, thinking that it does sound accurate.

"Maybe you shouldn't have done such a good job washing the dishes!", Langa retorted.

"After you ate mom out of house and home? It was the least I could do!" Reki threw back with a laugh in his voice.

The two continued to speed down the sidewalk onward to their destination without a care in the world, despite the desperation in Reki's tone earlier. Langa started to feel more like himself than he had all day. Nothing felt more grounding than skating behind his friend, his partner, his infinite companion. It was moments like this that he caught himself thinking things differently… about the two of them. Langa wasn't unfamiliar with thinking that, maybe, he and Reki could be… more than friends. Langa thought it was unavoidable at this point.

The two of them and been through so much, taught each other so much. He had long since came to terms with him thinking like this, feeling this want, this…longing? Yeah. You know what. That's what this was. Longing to tell Reki, to show Reki, that deep inside… Langa loved Reki. Again, he felt it unavoidable. Felt like that this was what he felt all along. Ever since the night at the skate park where they made up. The two hadn't ever said anything explictitly to each other, but it had come up in conversation once or twice that Langa might be into guys differently than most others.

To him, He felt Reki was trying to say the same thing too. With his preferred phrase being "Straddling the fence about it." Langa was never sure though, with his brain always coming around and saying that it's just wishful thinking. That Reki didn't want to say anything controversial, or it was just his way of trying to show support to Langa. He wasn't sure, and in the end just figured he'd play it safe. It wasn't like he wanted to change what they had, just thought they could make it a... special brand of better? Yeah, that sounds... right?

"Man, this salt kick is messing with my head if I'm thinking like this." Langa thought.

The friends finally made it to the restaurant a little later than they were supposed to, but found out there was a saving grace waiting for them.

"Joe went to the bathroom, since it looked like you two were going to be a little late tonight." Cherry mentioned, leaning on the side of Shadow's new van. The surprising reasoning behind the decision to carpool tonight.

"Sorry!" Reki laughed, "The dishes sorta piled up on me tonight. "Nice van Shadow! Looks very roomy."

"Thank You! Its technically the 'company' van, but my name's on all the paperwork and stuff. And another thank you for ACTUALLY appreciating it, unlike SOME people!", He said, pointedly nudging a small, occasionally bratty catboy.

"It's pink and it's got fold down seats. What's there to compliment?", said Miya Chinen, the brat in question.

Like most nights, these two started to argue like they do every time they get together. Everyone began to ignore them as they waited for Joe to come out so they could leave. Which, if the time frame was anything resembling the situation of Joe coming out of the closet about his feelings to Cherry, this could take all night. And with the wait, came the resurgence of Langa's salt deficiency. He bounced around on his toes as Reki and Cherry talked about new board designs they've seen. Suddenly, Langa quietly excused himself and went into the restaurant looking for something. The Sia La Luce might be a fancy Italian restaurant, but it wasn't above salt shakers at the table. However, these were fancy crystal shakers and Langa was pretty sure Joe wouldn't look too kindly hearing about Langa swiping away with one.

But he has bought take-a-way here on nights when he or his mother didn't feel like cooking. There was a counter close to a side door where you pick up your food after you ordered it. And if he was right, there should be a container full of paper salt packets they throw in as a courtesy. Making sure no one was looking; which, how could there be, the restaurant was closed. He leaned around the counter and grabbed a small handful before booking it out of the building. As Langa jogged-walked back to his group of friends, Joe finally emerged from the mysterious depths that was the men's bathroom.

"Great! Everyone's here and we can finally leave!" Shadow grabbed Miya by his jacket, tossed him in the van, and slammed the door before the now rabid child could retaliate. Cherry locked his bike and everyone piled into the comfortably roomy van.

The group finally arrived at S. The place seemed absolutely thrumming with energy tonight, almost bordering on sensory overload. Had someone come up to a younger Langa and told him that this place would become one of his most favorite spots on the planet, he would have considered them crazy. The wild flashing of the light, the pounding of music and voices, the heavy scent of… everything. One would have a hard time placing a scent, let alone describe it. And the night air, whipping up everything into a frenzy on the moutain. This place was the definition of free and untamed, and Langa loved it. He was itching to hit the race strips, but there already seemed to be a line for the top. Reki asked Joe and Cherry to reserve them a spot as the pair signed a waiting list, then the longtime friends hit a different path to the factory.

While the factory was considered part of the race track, that consideration only applied to the upper levels. The ground floor had plenty of debris and obstacles to pull tricks off of. Langa and Reki blew most of their collective energy grinding on the broken rails and kick-flipping off old wooden boxes. None of this was of course safe, but then again, when has that ever stopped them. As Langa popped off junk left and right, not caring about what the tricks were, just happy to be in the air, he was interrupted by a stranger.

"Hey You! You're the one they call Prince, Right?" A blonde, thin gym rat looking man in ripped jeans and an equally ripped sleeveless white denim jacket approached the pair in the far corner of the building.

"Yeah, I guess." Langa replied plainly, stopping his board to face the guy. "Prefer Langa though."

"Heard you're a good racer. One of the best around. That true too, 'LaNgA'?", the newcomer mocked, clearly showcasing how new to these parts the stranger was.

"Depends on who you talk to. Why?" Langa already had an idea what the stranger wanted. It's what all people new to "S" wanted, a beef with the legend that went against Adam and won. Honestly, this was already considered tiring, nearly turning onto outright obnoxious. But he was Canadian, it was polite to ask. Who knows, maybe he would get a break this time.

"I challenge you to a beef with ME!"

Nope.

Langa sighed in disappointment loud enough to attract Reki to his position.

"Oh, balls, not another one." Reki whispered to his friend. Knowing how tired his friend was of this and proceeded to take over the conversation.

"Look man, I know you want this to be personal and all, but we're signed up to go next on the track." He said, gesturing to the two of them. "Either you race against the BOTH of us, or you wait. And it's a long line tonight, by the way."

"Fine enough. It's not like it'll matter anyway, since you'll both be eating my dust!" the blonde asshole laughed.

Langa and the stranger shook on it, (again, He's Canadian), And the pompous douchebag walked off to take his place at the starting mark.

"Can't ever just be a nice night, can it?" Langa moped.

"Ahh, the cost of being talented… Wouldn't know what that's like!" Reki laughed, nudging Langa playfully and racing him to the starting mark.

The three of them, as well as others, took their places at the starting mark. The tension began to run high as everyone was waiting on the final signal light to drop. Lights flashed green as honed, practiced reflexes took over all the skaters as the beef began, with the main three in question taking a big chunk of the lead for themselves. Langa blasted out front of everybody, sacrificing style over speed in the hopes to make it a quick race. Only to see the stranger pulling up rapidly behind with Reki in the back, phasing in and out of their combined dust trails. Langa and the stranger began fighting for dominion of space on the high, sharp turns. Trying not to get too close, as at this speed, getting either board too close to each other would surely result in a wipe out.

'This guy is better than he looks.' Langa thought. He took a second to dance his board over some rocks that would have caused him to crash, just to see his opponent kick flip off a boulder and gain the lead.

'Of course this wouldn't be a problem, if I actually got my head in the game!' He screamed to himself.

Over a hundred of these races, against hundreds of skaters, professional and otherwise, and this one is practically kicking his ass because he can't stop thinking about salt! Langa pulls out a stolen salt packet from his pocket, only to lose it to the tailwind of Reki passing him as well. Reki had seen Langa pull it out and, thinking it was important, managed to snatch it from the air. Upon closer inspection however, threw Reki into a fit of laughter.

"Still going on about THIS?" He yelled back. "Well, if this is that important to you, guess you're going to have to catch me for it!" Reki turned on his board and angled his body in such a way to gain a burst of speed.

Langa made it a point to ignore the irrational part of his brain that kept saying he had more in his pocket and used the indignity of the situation to fuel his need to regain the lead. Popping over a bush, chaining the jump onto a ledge that lead to a short grind and using the momentum to launch himself from a tree branch over a small cliff, all linked together to form the most impressive retake of a gap in the history of "S". The order was now having the stranger being in the lead with Langa and Reki being neck to neck, if only for conversational purposes.

"Head back in place yet?" Reki playfully catcalled.

"It will be after I win!" Langa confidently declared back.

"If you lose, I'm taking your illegal salt stash away!" the cocky redhead wiggled the snatched salt packet threateningly.

Langa just snorted and continued to try and over take the talented new guy, finding it disappointing in himself that the threat was motivating. Having skated through this track so much he could do it blindfolded, Langa knew that the finish was only half a kilometer away. And at the speed at which the finalists were going, it was arriving frightfully soon. As they were coming out of the final turn, Langa gained enough momentum to fully flip himself over his opponent, rightfully gaining back his lead. The joyous moment was soon dissipated as the stranger, feeling indignified at the reality of the moment, had decided to pull out one last trick up his sleeve.

Reki's hackles began to raise as he saw the newcomer pull something out of his pocket. Langa couldn't see and Reki wasn't about to find out what it was. He could only manage an incoherent shout of warning before he sped up and rail grinded around the stranger to tackle his friend out of the way. As Langa looked back to see what the was doing that had caused Reki to warn him, the redhead was bent forward as his hands locked around Langa's waist in a defensive position. The combined momentum caused the two of them to slip out of control and break the railing to their right.

Langa's initial panic was swayed by the fact that he had been in this situation before. This was like Adam's Love Hug all over again. Langa took charge of the moment, righting his boardsin air and made his friend place his feet in line with his. He managed to land the board on to a beam under them and had to keep the balancing act up as they rail grind down its length. Their hands instinctively fell into the unmistakable tango position and held each other close, causing the wind to be sliced past their combined closeness.

As they reached the end of the beam, Langa planted a foot onto it and used the other to launch the board in front of the two of them. Reki pushed off as well, using whatever momentum they had to circle langa around to fling him into the air and toward the main track. Langa grabbed the board and tossed it down to the metal walkway, planting his feet solidly onto it. Keeping the momentum going, he turned to face Reki and guided him back onto the board, barely keeping them both upright as the skateboard zoomed past the positively stunned strange.

This is how they won. The two of them, absolutely inseparable since they met, just as so passing the finish line into the gathered crowd. All were cheering for their dramatic upset. They slowed their skateboards to a stop as the partners looked at each other, faces visibly showing the shock at what had occurred.

"Did you… just… Love Hugged me? And save me with it?" Langa asked as he stared at Reki, stunned by the experience and finding himself refusing to let go of his hand.

"Uhhh… yeaaah? Maybe? Look, all I saw was the asshole was reaching for something and I panicked and,-"

"Hey! Its… okay. You're… okay. We're both okay… Thanks to you." Langa professed soothingly, taking Reki's other hand in an attempt to ground them both. They tried to take a breather, but with the crowd closing in, along with the stranger starting to riot at his unexpected loss, the friends were starting to get overwhelmed. Along came the rest of the friend group, with Cherry and Shadow doing crowd control and Joe dealing with the stranger causing a fit. Taking the chance to slip away, Langa led Reki outside the old factory to a metal bench at the far wall and sat down in between other people. Langa started to rub his face in his hands. "That… got crazy there, right?" mumbling

Reki straddled the low bench, laying his board over his knees and nodding his head. "Honestly, yeah. Didn't know I had it in me to pull.. whatever that was off." Reki went on to fiddling with Langa's board and inspecting the trucks for damage.

Langa just sat there, watching Reki with unfocused eyes. His mind drifting back and forth, between the last five minutes and to the stash of salt in his pocket. To holding hands with Reki and back to his addiction to salt. Lapping between those two trains of thought, like waves on a beach. Almost like the salty water he soaked in on his vacation that he shared with Reki. Like how he and Reki liked to pass sauce containers on a skateboard when they shared a salty chicken nugget meal. Like when Reki passes his tongue between his teeth when he's concentrating on fixing his board. Similar to what he's doing now. Those teeth that are brushed with salt… crystal… toothpaste. Oh no.

"Heeeyyy… Reki?" Langa asked tentatively.

"What's up?" Reki chirped, looking up from his skateboard maintenance.

"Do you… still use salt crystal toothpaste?"

Reki craned his head back in disbelief. "Aww Ma gawd, LANGA, salt again! Are you hoping it'll fix something in your head or is this considered a last resort?" Langa just shrugged as he weighed his options. If he followed through on this absolutely crazy stupid idea of his, this would totally change the course of their friendship, for better or for worse FOREVER. BUT, this might be the one thing that cures him of this obnoxious salt kick, if he's RiGHT. Thus, the risk.

"Reki, would you mind if I… did something potentially…stupid?"

"Depends. Does it involve me?" Reki replied, innocent of Langa's intentions

"Yes." However, at the rate his brain is degrading from the lack of salt intake, this might just have to be a risk Langa will have to take.

Langa scooted closer to Reki, straddling the bench as well. He took his friend's face in his hands. God, he was so nervous. Langa could barely look him in the eyes. Those beautiful, incandescently golden eyes. The ones gazing into his, filled with innocent confusion and... awe? Before his nerves completely blew a fuse, Langa used his thumbs and pulled Reki's headband over his eyes as he dove onto his lips. He was gentle with it, not wanting to do anything to completely scare Reki, but hopefully enough to see if Langa wasn't crazy.

Crazy to think that this was what he was craving all along. The kiss lasted less than a second, with Langa only briefly making contact and just lightly sucking on Reki's lower lip. If Langa was in his right mind, he would have broken this off. Took his hands off his friends' face and apologized. But... he wasn't. Langa was not in a logical mindset in the slightest, for the smallest, slightest taste of Reki's lips was everything and more.

It was everything he was craving all day and everything he didn't know he was. Salt with sweet cherry chapstick mixed with spices from dinner earlier and… just… Reki. Some sort of flavor that couldn't be described, only named. Something so explicitly wild and spicy and sweet that it could only come from a source just as superb as the taste itself. Langa immediately swiped another kiss, this time whispering his tongue over the bottom lip again before forcefully pulling himself back from his friend. He did it. Langa kissed his best friend. Someone he vowed to skate forever with. And now he's gone and thrown a potential wrench in the mix.

Reki leaned back as he lifted the headband off his eyes. All they could do was stare at each other, expressions filled with more shock and awe than ever before. Cheeks were turning hot and red at the realization of the moment, and all they could do was just breathe and stare. A lifetime had passed between them before Reki decided to be the first one to break the silence.

"Sooo, uhhhh…. Was it everything you were looking for tonight?" He said, sheepishly. Surprising Langa by not turning and running for the hills.

"Would you believe me if I said… yes?" Langa turned his head away, not sure what to do with himself at this point. He was honestly shocked that they were still talking.

"Honestly… not really." Reki said with shocking confidence. Langa whipped his head back up, wondering why, of ALL responses, he would say that?

"To be fair, that kiss was kinda short, so I can't really believe that you actually tasted anything. Sure you don't wanna… try again?" Langa was stunned. Stunned that his friend, the one that always said that he 'wasn't sure', didn't express that he was interested in him EVER, would say something like that so casually.

"But… I thought…" Langa said. Confused, but grateful at the miracle that landed in his lap.

Reki righted his headband before taking a breath and spoke, "Look. I know I talk about girls a lot, and that I've been 'straddling the fence' about this. But that kiss...and everything that happened tonight and maybe during some moments that we've had together over the past month or so just... made me realize that... I'm not as much on the fence as I previously thought. And I want you to know that this... is okay." Reki took one of Langa's hands and brought it over the skateboard and held it, curling the blushing bluenette's fingers into his and lightly stroked his thumb over the knuckles.

"So… is this an open invitation to… try again?" Langa muttered, leaning in close to Reki. Their foreheads almost touching.

"Well, yeah! Gotta be sure and all. Else you're going to screw up your taste buds devouring salt packets all night!" The two of them quietly laughed at the thought before leaning closer in, sensing another intimate bubble world forming around them and this moment. Just the two of them, all over again and again. Langa rubbed his nose next to Reki's, hoping to indicate that he would like another kiss. Reki got the hint as they started to lean closer to each other and-

"I get this is probably a first time for both of you, but could you not? It's disgusting." Miya said. He was the only other occupant on the bench at the moment and was playing on his switch while chilling in the now shockingly brisk air.

"I'm… sorry?" replied Langa.

"exCUSE YOU?" screeched Reki.

"It's not that I'm against you two getting together or anything, but can you really not find a better place to do… all that? I'm trying to concentrate here." Miya said, drawing his hood over his head and returning to his game.

"Well, tough luck pussycat! I'm going back for another round." Reki almost threw his skateboard from his lap, He indignantly grabbed Langa's collar and went back to kissing him forcefully, pushing his "Prince" down flat on the bench and crawling onto his lap. This essentially traumatized Miya, especially after Langa joyfully started to reciprocate.

"JOE! CHERRY!! SAVE ME!!!" the child screamed in terror as he ran into the surprised arms of his (unofficial) surrogate parents that had just turned the corner, looking for the oblivious pair. Joe picked up Miya and held him close, wondering what could cause him to scream like that, Cherry began scanning the tree line, preparing to take his board and swing for the fences when he found the violator, only to see Reki and langa committing a mild case of public indecency.

"Are they-?" Joe said first, finally seeing the familiar red and blue mass on the bench.

"It appears so. Honestly? About time." Cherry replied, putting Carla down.

"Make them stop!" Miya whimpered, shivering in disgust and looking away.

"Avert your eyes kid, it's only going to get worse." Joe shifted Miya to one arm as he and Cherry walked away and back into the building.

"Should we warn Shadow?" Cherry asked.

"Na. With the way those two were going at it, he'll find out soon enough."

The three of them went out the other side, up the path to the top and left the intertwined teens to their now and forever present need for privacy.

[sunken-standard]

Sunken's Half-assed Lacto-fermented Radish Kraut-chi Tutorial (or, how to use salt and time to make radishes edible and not poison yourself)

Start with some radishes, whatever you have—Cherry Belles, Sparklers, French Breakfast, White Icicle, Daikon, etc.  These are 5.5lbs of Korean Diakon (“Alpine Gold” hybrid) from my garden.  You can peel them or not; I don't peel what I grow or buy from local farms, but I do peel things from the grocery store. 

Slice them however you want.  Coins, matchsticks, quarters (for smaller radishes), cubes, it's all up to you.  Different sizes and shapes give different textures and have different fermentation times.  Throw them in a bowl and salt to taste.  They should be pleasantly salty; not so much that it burns your mouth, but not too lightly either.  The sweet spot for me is a little less salty than the average potato chip.

Now you can add your other stuff, if you want.  Plain old brined and fermented radishes are yum on their own.  I want more of my half-assed kimchi though, so I'm using red cabbage (any will do, I had the red on hand), carrots, sweet onions (from a local farm; green onions work too), ginger, garlic, an apple (yes that was a Red Delicious, and no I didn't use it after all because it was rotten inside, but I did use a Honeycrisp instead), and Gochugaru (this stuff is the mild kind). I only used about half of the ginger and garlic pictured and added more carrot, but you get the idea.  If you're using cabbage, keep a few of the (clean, nice-looking) outer leaves for later.  You can shred the rest or cut it into squares to be a little closer to real kimchi.

Chop everything up, mixing and tasting as you go--before and after adding more salt.  After it's all chopped and mixed and salted and happy, let it sit (covered to keep beasties out) for a half hour to two hours (or even longer, you won't ruin it if you accidentally fall asleep, eh heh).

(I go relatively light on the gochugaru because I’m a wuss)

Make sure you have enough jars or whatever you're going to use for the fermentation.  I thought two half-gallons would be enough, but I was wrong.  Washing with soap and water is enough, they don't need to be boiled or otherwise sanitized.

Pack the vegetables into the jar, trying the squish out the air spaces as you go.  It's going to create a lot of its own brine, and there will be liquid left in the bottom of the mixing bowl (pour that in the jar).  The juice probably won't cover the vegetables, so you can top it off with plain brine made at a ratio of 1.5 tsp to 1c water, which should be boiled and cooled if you have city water (to get rid of the chlorine) but doesn't have to be if using well or bottled water.  Squish it down again after adding the brine, or use a chopstick to poke around and get the air bubbles out.

If you saved a cabbage leaf, now's the time to mash it into the jar to cover all the vegetables and keep them under the brine.  It's not necessary, it just keeps stuff neater.  Some people use plastic wrap, but I don't like that myself If I don't have a leaf I just fill the jar about ¾ and cover it with more brine.  Weight it down with something (I have fancy glass fermentation weights for jars, but a plastic bag of salt or beans or brine works fine).  

Put the lid on the jar loosely (or if you're using something like a crock, cover with a heavy cloth and secure with string or a rubber band), label and date it, and keep it somewhere that doesn't get too hot or too cold, ideally out of direct sunlight.  Oh, and put it on a plate or a tray or something, leakage is normal, even if you think you haven't overfilled the jars (ask me how I know -_-).  You'll see little bubbles starting about 24 hours later—this is good and means it's cookin'.  

(These are dill pickles I started ~48h earlier)

Burp the jars daily and start tasting after about 3 days.  When it's sour and the vegetables are a little soft (it'll smell funky, kind of like farts and warm onions, but it's fine), it's ready to go in the fridge.  It'll keep for months, maybe even years; just remember to check it because it does keep fermenting, just at a much slower rate.

So yeah, that's it.  Sounds like a lot, but it's so, so easy.  This is a jar I did like a month ago and I've already eaten about 1/3 of it:

[well-its-not-human-anymore]

Hi lovely! I just want to say, your writing is amazing!! Do you think you could do little headcanons for each bayverse brother where the reader is almost ALWAYS super happy and chipper, super kind to everyone all the time, but then one time somebody (turtles or readers family, doesn't matter) says something to really piss them off? Like... Teeth clenching, furious, silent, and boiling kind of anger that terrified the SHIT out of them that they've never seen before or expected from them?? 😂

Usually, when my Dad and Stepmom are arguing, the fight is blamed on me because I'm "the oldest" and "the most responsible" and I become extremely upset, completely opposite of what I usually am, and there's nobody I can talk to. Thank you so much, for taking my request!! Love your writing!! -Captain trash 🐌

Ohhhh 💢😡 love this, and I do this all the time. Out here bottling my emotions like I'm canning pickles.

TMNT Headcanons

The boys reacting to the quiet type of rage

Leonardo

you were an absolute angel

this was one thing Leo knew to be true

to him, you were like a carbonated beverage, bubbly and sweet

but what he didn't take into account was that like most carbonated drinks, you always hit just right

he learned that the hard way

no, he wasn't sure what he'd actually said to set you off, but he knew it probably wasn't about him insulting potato chips

you weren't that passionate about potatoes, shockingly enough

but he'd ran his mouth when he shouldn't have and immediate correction was provided via a VERY solid punch to his plastron

then you were up and storming out of the kitchen to your personally designated shelf at the other side of the lair, snarling as you went

you stayed up there for the rest of the day and when dinner came around Leo had to tackle Mikey to the ground to stop him from throwing a paper airplane up into your nest

a wise choice

Splinter was the one who informed you that it was time to eat

Another wise choice

Personally, Leo's never seen anyone eat fettuccine with the afterthought of murdering god but damn if you didn't look like you were considering it

Your jaw was clenched so tight that he feared you'd break your teeth

He felt bad of course, how couldn't he? But he also knew from experience that it was best to leave you be until you came down from your anger

Raphael

Now, Raph is no stranger when it comes to anger or rage, especially the silent type

He likes to think he knows it better than anyone

But holy shit- he never expected it from you

You were always kind and sweet and every other synonym for those words under the rainbow

In fact, Raph had gone so far as to assume that you didn't have a mean bone in your body

That turned out to be lie

The argument was something dumb, it had to be, but it quickly escalated. Much faster than he thought it could

And he made the mistake of running his mouth

"Oh yeah? And what could you ever get outta being with a freak like me, huh?!"

Big mistake

He actively watched your face darken and your lip curl into a snarl

"You need to stop using your appearance to win arguments."

And then he had to watch as you turned your back on him and simply walked away

You were silent at dinner, only speaking when you needed the salt or something else

You declined all offers to be walked home and left by yourself

They could all tell by your stature and your tense jaw that caused the veins in your neck to bulge that you were beyond pissed

Despite that Raph still received your text informing him that you made it home safe

But that was all

Two days went by before he showed up at your apartment to apologize

You'd never been one to hold a grudge against anyone

Especially not your boyfriend

You accepted his apology and he hasn't crossed that line since

Donatello

From the day he met you, Donnie knew you were different

Your social anxiety and self esteem overlapped in some of the worst possible ways

But damn if you weren't an absolute sweetheart around everyone else

You defended your friends better than Fort Knox security and that was a fact

So in truth he really shouldn't have been surprised by your outburst

But in his defense he'd only ever seen you react verbally, yelling, threatening, the works

When they were all returning from a scouting routine that night the last thing Donnie wanted to listen to was Leo's lecture

Donnie had gotten in a little too far and banged himself up, bleeding from a few cuts and scrapes but nothing major

And none of them had realized that you were there

So when Leo went in for an attack on Donnie's intelligence and worth you'd done the only reasonable thing you could think of

The glass bottle shattered on the wall next to Leo's head and sent them all ducking and covering their faces

You stood opposite of them, murder dancing in your eyes like a ballerina

You pinned Leo with your gaze and held him there for a painfully long minute

Then you were taking Donnie's hand and pulling him to the needle room

You were both silent while you patched him up and he was relieved to know that your anger wasn't directed at him

Your entire body practically melted when he touched your cheek

"You're going to break your teeth if you keep that up."

"Well I've never been one for self preservation now have I?"

Michaelangelo

You and Mikey's personality and mentality were basically identical

You might as well have operated on the same vibrational frequency

He just worked so well with you

If it wasn't for the fact that he clearly wasn't human you could've been twins

It wasn't that you were necessarily angry with him at that moment, but the argument you were having was quickly escalating so you both opted to shut it down before it got any worse

Things usually turned out better when you both went nonverbal

Ended with way less hurt feelings than it could have

But you both found it best to take some time alone during these situations, things were easier to smooth over if you were both calm

The others found this terrifying however

Because silent, angry you was one thing

Silent and angry Mikey was another thing entirely

But fortunately you both typically resolved things rather quickly after giving each other some space

I know the last one is a little off but I kinda ran out of ideas and brain power. The dreaded wall of writer's block has hit me and I think I just made a nest under it and took a nap. But in all honesty this week has really stressed me out so I apologize for the lack of postings. I'm doing my best to get back into it. Thank you all for being patient with me. 🧡

-Mars 🌠

[laudofthedeep]

oh uh. i know it’s random but i still feel honored. tbh when i reach the end i dunno if im gonna have nine people either

3 ships: i dunno man, i don’t go in for this kinda thing. usually the only kinds of ships im interested in are the ones where the girl has a crush on the biggest idiot you’ve ever seen, so i guess naruto x hinata, vashmeryl (1998 only; tristamp Vashwood is canon), uhhhhhhh im gonna say the two protagonists of Rascal Does Not Dream of Bunny-girl Senpai (listen. listen. it’s really good, probably the best romcom ive seen. the marketing and title do it dirty. it’s legitimately not Like That) because they’re like the only actual functional couple in all media. I have written a lot of words to answer a simple question and to be honest i don’t really even feel that strongly about any of these. i don’t even know enough about boats to give the joke answer. schooner, sloop, trimaran

last song: see this one i have opinions on but it’s gonna be like four words worth of answer. atlas - Good Kid. if you even care

last movie: The History of Mario Bros 3 100% World Records by Summoning Salt on YouTube. Not technically a movie but you watch that hour and a half long video and tell me it’s not higher production value than any published documentary you’ve seen. last actual movie is Kiki’s Delivery Service because it’s spring and that means it’s time to have emotions again

currently reading: Hawaiian Folk Tales by Thros G. Thrum

currently consuming: Normal Potato Chips and lemon tea

craving: an easier tax code. or perhaps tax forms that have already been filled out for me

all right tagging people

obvious answers @mumblesplash and @exopelagic Topsy i could probably guess your answers (mostly) but it’s just fun to hear you talk

@businesstiramisu we are mutuals in my heart

@jays-doodle-spool @bepisconsumer @seenoweevil discord members whom i don’t interact with regularly, i need you to know that i am just so busy and so tired all the time

@zeugmalitotes i think we had like one interaction ever but you seem cool

@noxventuseternal a mystery. an enigma. consistently more interaction with the things i say than anyone else on this site but i have never heard you say a single thing

@yeevahon hahahahaha made you look, loser

(starting a new thread 'cause the other one got really long)

Tag 9 people you want to get to know better

Thanks for the tag, @juniperjellyfish!!

Three ships: Pixane, Ralbert, Orphydice

Last song: Phenomena - Douran

Last movie: Hmm, I really can't remember

Currently reading: RED (As in Russia and Measles and Love) by Linda Jane Niedfeldt

Currently watching: Ninjago!

Currently consuming: Strawberry-orange gum and grape soda (I know, I'm sooooo healthy)

Currently craving: Nothing. I just woke up, and I'm never hungry after I wake up (even though I fell asleep starving)

Nine tags: @beetr0t @roguendeavor @giddlygoat @lennon-cuddlywump @dapper-nahrwhale @not-quite-my-tempo @kentucky-fried-thea @orcaofmyheart99 @frau-wilhelm-klink

[indulge-that-sin]

A Social Experience

Characters: GN!MC, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Mammon

Wordcount: 1700

Tags: Fluff, Domestic, Bonding Activities, Humor

(No spoilers for latter lessons, but takes place fairly late in the game.)

***

"--a gross, shut-in otaku like me!" Levi finished, on the all too familiar note.

Usually by this point you would already be launching into reassurances that he certainly wasn't gross, and shouldn't talk about himself like that, but this time there was nothing but a silence that bounced off the walls, damning and louder than any words.

You reached into your bag of chips, removed a single potato chip, and ate it as you tilted your head in thought. Levi took your silence like a slap in the face, and recoiled, his face already wavering. The sound of your chewing was distressingly loud in contrast.

You finished chewing and swallowed. "I mean, is that even true anymore?" you asked after a nerve-wracking length of time.

Levi's expression twisted more into confusion than hurt. "Huh?!" 

"Don't you kind of lose your hikikomori credentials if you become popular and people start coming to spend time with you all the time?"

"That's not-- I'm not-- You don't count!" Levi sputtered.

"Oh, I don't count, huh," you repeated, putting a hand to your chest and dramatically feigning heartbreak.

Levi looked abashed now. "Th-that's not what I meant," he rushed to add.

"I know what you meant," you said. "Give it an hour."

Now Levi tilted fully into confusion.

"Give what an hour?"

"My point to be made," you said, and placed your D.D.D. onto the lip of the bathtub, out of your own reach. It was also clearly visible to Levi as you both sat on beanbags in front of his TV, next to the bath tub. "An hour," you repeated in a portentous video game narrator voice.

Levi scowled and picked up his controller again, turning back to his game. But his reactions were off, now. His character moved jerkily around the screen, doubling back and taking wrong turns on the 8-bit map as Levi's mood roiled with the strangeness of the conversation.

You continued eating your chips slowly, savoring the taste of the limited edition novelty flavor that Levi had generously acquired for you. He'd tried to pass it as a coincidence, but he didn't really know anyone else who unironically enjoyed the taste of cream and devilradish chips.

Not even half an hour passed before there was a knock on the door. Levi asked for the password on reflex. Surprisingly, from the other side of the door came a sigh, and then Asmo's melodious voice reciting the string of nerd trivia that Levi had set as a password for him ever since they became unlikely allies for the Bloody Moon competition.

"Come in, I guess," Levi replied, giving you a long look. Your D.D.D. was still on the edge of the bathtub, untouched as you sat there elbow-deep in greasy chips. You couldn't have called anyone over. And yet, was this what you expected to happen?

"Give it forty more minutes now," you said low.

Asmo fluttered into the room, like a passing breeze bringing in the smell of perfume. 

"Oh, there you are, darling, I was wondering where you were," he said, face lit up as he saw you.

He sat uninvited next to you in the beanbag, and you scooted over to make space for him. Levi would have complained, except moving to make room for Asmo meant you shuffled closer to Levi instead, so he ended up biting his tongue.

"What do you want?" Levi grit out.

"Must I want something?" Asmo asked, "Is it not enough that I give my adorable brother the opportunity to entertain me?"

"He's bored," you translated.

"I'm soooo bored," Asmo whined, his shoulders rolling in a full-body sigh. But he perked up as he leaned forward to look at both you and Levi. "But what about all this? Mind if I join the fun~?"

"Let's find a game Asmo can play," you suggested. 

"If you'd like," Asmo acquiesced with a shrug, indicating he'd had some other kind of fun in mind.

Levi gave you another sidelong glance, full of suspicion, but his head was out of the game he was playing anyway, so he exited and pulled up his game library instead. Deciding which game to choose was the trickier part, because Asmo had terrible reflexes, and an attention span worse than Mammon's when it came to playing anything. This ruled out anything requiring twitch reflexes or understanding complicated rules. 

Asmo, meanwhile, scrunched his nose at your chips.

"All that grease and salt is going to be awful for your complexion, darling," he said, clearly disapproving.

"I'm not rubbing it on my face," you said, and defiantly sucked crumbs off your thumb. Levi nearly choked at the sound, which was borderline obscene. The little sound Asmo made in response did nothing to contradict this impression. Levi managed to swallow back the wave of envy before it came undammed by concentrating on the list of games on the screen. He still had to make a selection.

A farming sim seemed like a safe enough choice; something bright and frivolous. Just like Asmo.

Levi passed the controller as the title screen came up, and Asmo, to his credit, managed to choose the 'New Game' option without messing anything up. Yet. When the screen went dark as the game loaded, Asmo couldn't resist looking at his reflection and primping his hair a bit. Levi did resist snorting and rolling his eyes, but it was a close thing.

The character creation screen popped up with its myriad of options, and Asmo gasped in delight.

"Oh! This is a good start! Much better than getting shoved into some ugly gray metal suit at the beginning," Asmo remarked cheerfully. He cycled through the hair and clothing options with the speed and deftness of a veteran player. 

"Hey, beginner armor in RPGs can be colorful too," Levi protested.

"But not fashionable, apparently," Asmo sniffed.

Asmo had only just barely settled on a hairstyle and color combination he thought was adequately cute, and was scrunching his nose at the shirt options, when another knock came at the door.

"Come in," you called out, before Levi could demand a password.

Mammon's head popped through the door, and he pulled a face when he saw you there, just like he always did when you were in somebody else's company and not his.

"Eh? What're you doing here?" Mammon asked, closing the door behind him and sidling up to the three of you. 

He craned his neck and squinted at the screen, like he was verifying that whatever you were doing, it passed his requirements for propriety. Between knowing the kinds of games Levi had in his collection, and seeing Asmo there, maybe he was not completely unjustified in some suspicion, but it still made you want to roll your eyes.

"We're watching Asmo create his character," you explained.

Mammon guffawed. "Betcha been watching him do that for a while!"

"Fifteen minutes, more or less," you said. "But to be fair, Levi takes way longer to create characters."

"It's an important step!" Levi sputtered.

"Especially with the quality of the options," Asmo added. "Look at this. A purple T-shirt with a pink butt on it?"

"That's a peach!" Levi protested, his face turning red.

"I know what a butt looks like, Levi," Asmo replied tartly.

"Wait, wait, Asmo, that black one with the gold design ain't half bad! Go back an' pick that one." 

"That gaudy thing! Absolutely not!"

"Mammon, why are you even here?" Levi asked, now completely exasperated with his brothers.

"I was just seein' if we were still on for Devil Kart against those Purgatory Hall guys. We need ta win back our honor, ya know."

"Do we?" Levi asked suspiciously, "or are you running a betting pool again?"

Mammon made a good show of appearing indignant at the very suggestion, but he'd hit you up earlier today about whether you'd be willing to take a dive in the second half of Candy Mountain in exchange for a lump grimm sum, so you knew too much about the subject to defend Mammon without exposing him.

"Can't I be showin' an interest without ya gettin' all suspicious a' me? What makes me so weird, huh? Asmo here doesn't even play games, and I don't see ya hasslin' him!"

"I do too play games," Asmo protested.

"Really? 'Cause only thing I ever saw you play was that stupid matching thing with the gems, and I ain't seen much of even that lately."

You knew which game Mammon meant, because it was the only game app you'd ever seen on Asmo's phone. You'd watch him play in moments of boredom, swiping his screen with a completely blank look of concentration as he matched the colors of the gems in rows and columns, and they burst into sparkles. 

"Ugh, of course you haven't seen me play, I finished it. I have to wait until they add new levels."

"Didn't that game have like ten thousand levels already?" you asked. "You mean you passed all of them?"

"Eleven thousand and sixty five," Asmo corrected primly. "And yes, I did them all. I have to wait until they add more now. I asked."

The room fell into shocked silence at this. Even Levi looked mildly dyspeptic at the thought of completing eleven thousand levels of a match-3 game. You'd played it yourself for a while, and past the two hundredth level, the number of complicated mechanics the game introduced had completely broken you.

"Anyway," Mammon said after a few more beats of silence. He gestured to the screen, where Asmo was flicking between two shirt options. "This thing got co-op or somethin'?"

You finished your chips, and folded away the empty bag. When you picked up your D.D.D., fifty five minutes had passed.

"Still five minutes left," you muttered to Levi while Asmo and Mammon bickered over the choice of pants. "Wanna play the long odds and see if the twins show up too?"

"Okay, okay, you've made your point," Levi grumbled. "I let way too many people waltz in here. I'll have to tighten security."

But Levi's heart wasn't really in it, and when he turned to watch Mammon try to swipe Asmo's controller while the latter loudly protested, there was almost a smile threatening to spread over Levi's face.

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 6: The Slowest Cooker

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

It’s Friday, April 17th, and they’re eating lunch in the Hoover building’s cafeteria. They eat lunch together almost every day now, Mulder realizes. They’re practically joined at the hip.

Except in the fun way.

Today is different, though. Because today she invites him over for dinner.

Scully’s devouring a caesar salad, and Mulder’s heart is warmed by the evidence of her returning appetite. Five months ago, she was dying of cancer, and now she’s here stealing the occasional potato chip from the bag he got from the vending machine. He doesn’t mind; she could take his entire sandwich from him right now, and he’d happily watch her eat it.

“Do you want to come over for dinner tomorrow?” she asks, covering her mouth with her hand as she chews. “My mother got me a crockpot for my birthday and I’m thinking of giving it a test drive.”

His heart leaps, and he wants to shout yes, but instead he asks “What about Mark?”

She gives him one of her patented Scully looks. “I’m allowed to have friends, Mulder. And I still owe you for going to the bar with me that one time, remember?” She takes another bite of salad. “Also, he’s working.”

“Ah,” Mulder says knowingly. “Sure; what’s on the menu?”

“Pork roast,” she replies. “My mom’s recipe. The leftovers make great pulled-pork sandwiches.”

“Anything you’d like me to bring?”

Scully shrugs. “Red wine would go nicely, but I’ll be testing you at the door to make sure you’re not Eddie Van Blundht,” she says dryly.

“You gonna check me for evidence of a tail, Scully?” he says in a low tone, leaning in so they’re not overheard.

“Keep that up and I’m rescinding my invite and keeping all the leftovers to myself,” she replies, picking a wilted bit of romaine out of her salad.

It’s not a date, he reminds himself. Just friends sharing dinner.

Regardless, he takes a shower and puts on one of his nicer sweaters before heading to her place.

He knocks on her door at 6:30 sharp, a bottle of Pinot Noir in hand. His palm is a little sweaty, and he grips the wine tightly to avoid dropping it.

“It’s open,” he hears her call out.

He opens the door and is hit by the savory aroma of meat and herbs. His mouth waters instantly. When he turns and sees her in the kitchen, it waters for a different reason entirely.

Scully’s reaching into the cupboard above the sink, her soft green sweater riding up to expose a ribbon of creamy skin. He wants to wrap his arms around her waist, kiss her neck, tell her to forget dinner because he’s got something else on his mind.

Instead he just says “Hey”.

“Hi,” she greets him, bringing down two salad plates and setting them on the table. “Do you want to hear the good news first or the bad?”

Mulder blinks. “Uh,” he says brilliantly. That goddamn little sweater-

“The good news is that I’ve had the crockpot running for about six hours, and nothing’s caught fire,” she says, leaning against the countertop.

He nods. “And the bad news is…”

“I started the roast at almost half noon,” Scully admits. “I had to go to the grocery store first and that took longer than expected. So the meat won’t be done until eight-thirty.”

“That’s fine,” Mulder says, hoping his stomach doesn’t rumble loudly enough for her to hear. “Oh, and I brought Pinot Noir,” he says, reading the label.

---

They eat the salad she prepared; it’s spinach and apple with vinaigrette, and Mulder has to admit it’s pretty tasty.

“You’re a good hostess, Scully,” Mulder says as she pours him a glass of Prosecco. “Maggie should be proud.”

“Please note the size of crockpot she gifted me,” Scully replies, gesturing to the slow-cooker on the counter. “She fully intends for me to feed a crowd, not just you. I have a long way to go.” She sits across from him and takes a sip of her wine. “But this is a start.”

“Can I make a confession?” he asks.

Scully nods.

“I… I don’t drink much wine. So I have no idea if the one I brought is any good. I told the store clerk I was having pork for dinner and he recommended that one,” Mulder says, cocking his head toward the bottle on the counter.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Scully assures him. “I’m not a wine snob by any means. I’m kind of surprised you’re not one, actually, considering your background.”

Mulder shrugs. “I don’t drink much, aside from the occasional beer. But this is good,” he says, lifting his glass.

———

The Prosecco is… very good.

“How long until the meat’s done?” Mulder asks, resting his head on his hand.

“Half hour,” Scully replies, downing the last sip of her wine. “I’m sorry, Mulder. Do you want some cheese and crackers to tide you over?”

“M’good,” he says lazily, stifling a burp. He’s feeling warm and soft inside, and the wine’s put him in a charitable mood. “How are things with Mark?”

“Things are good… things are fine,” Scully says, then sighs. “He’s… god, he’s so nice.”

“Nice is good, right?” Mulder asks, toying with his empty wine glass. “People like nice.”

Scully narrows her eyes at him. “Are you feeling okay, Mulder?”

“We’re not talking about me,” he says, slumping in his chair and stretching his long legs out under the table. “We’re talking about Mark. Mark Eidolanterns.”

“Einolander,” Scully corrects him. “And yes, nice is good, generally,” she continues. “But sometimes I wish he weren’t so nice. I don’t know,” she says, exhaling. “I need more wine if I’m going to talk about this,” she says with a huff of laughter.

“Hey, we got it,” Mulder says. “Dinner’s almost ready anyway. Let’s try the mystery Pinot I brought.”

---

The pot roast is done cooking and they’re definitely a little drunk.

“Whew… I’m feeling this,” Mulder says, holding the bottle up too close to his face as he attempts to read the label. “It’s been so long, I forgot that wine does this to me.”

“Higher alcohol content,” Scully says. “And you’re a lightweight.”

“That your medical opinion, Dr. Scully?” he asks.

“Yes,” she mumbles, slicing a piece off of the roast and dumping it unceremoniously onto his plate. “Tada,” she says, pushing it across the table to him. “Meat.”

“I can see that,” he remarks. He takes another sip of wine. “Wine’s good,” he assures her, even though she’s already on her second glass of the red.

“Can’t say the same for the roast,” she admits, chewing. “I skimped on the salt and in hindsight that was a bad idea.”

Mulder shovels a piece into his mouth. “Tastes good to me,” he assures her. “But I’ve only had wine and salad since lunchtime so at this point I’d eat anything. I’d eat you,” he adds, pointing his fork in her direction.

“Pass that idea along to Mark,” she sighs, then covers her mouth. “I didn’t say that,” she says, face red.

“You did,” Mulder crows, too tipsy to feel jealous. “You did and I heard you.” He takes another draw from his glass. “The store guy was right, this is good with pork.”

“You’re going to have an incredible hangover tomorrow,” Scully says, chewing meditatively. “Wine’s a bitch.”

“You should swear more,” Mulder says. “It’s endearing.”

Scully shakes her head. “I can’t believe how drunk you are,” she says, almost fondly.

“I’m not that drunk,” he insists. Just in love with you.

Scully smiles. “No sober man has ever said that.”

---

“There’s no spark,” she blurts out.

They’d taken the rest of of the wine to the couch and are slumped on opposite ends, goblets in hand.

“No spark?” Mulder echoes. It was an admission he wasn’t expecting. He angles his body towards hers, careful not to spill his glass.

“With Mark. I like him, I really do. He’s kind, intelligent, a devoted father, and quite attractive; and yet…” She gestures loosely to her body with the hand not holding her wine. “Nothing.” She takes another sip. “I can’t shake the idea that I should be feeling more. And the fact that he hasn’t kissed me yet... I understand wanting to move slowly and let things grow with time, but not even a single kiss?”

“Th-that did strike me as odd,” Mulder stumbles. “You have nice lips.”

“I do,” Scully agrees, seemingly unfazed by the comment. “I should be kissed.” She drains her glass and holds it out to him.

Mulder pours out the last of the bottle into her glass. “Maybe if… maybe if you kissed, you’d find the spark.”

Scully shakes her head. “No. No, it does’t work that way. At least not for me. I don’t want to force chemistry that’s not there,” she explains. “It should come naturally, feel like it does with-”

Mulder waits expectantly for her to finish her sentence. “With?” he prompts.

Her face is flushed with wine, and she licks her lips. “Mulder, tell me honestly; do you think I’m settling?”

The room suddenly feels too warm, and he takes a nervous gulp of wine that does nothing to calm his body. “Scully, I- I’m the wrong person to ask.”

“You’re my closest friend,” she says softly, eyes cast downward. “Who else would I ask?”

She has a point. “Your mother-” he begins.

“She set me up with him in the first place,” Scully reminds him. “Clearly she’d be no help.”

“What do you want, Scully? If you’re honest with yourself.” He raises his glass. “In vino veritas, or whatever,” he says, taking another drink.

“I don’t know,” she says. “I always do this. I find a man I want to impress or gain the approval of, then resent the authority I let them have over me. This cycle of… of compliance and defiance is exhausting.”

He can tell she’s tipsy, and yet at the same time she’s strangely lucid. He’s never gotten to experience this particular kind of vulnerability with her before, and it gives him a thrill. He can feel the warmth of her body permeating him from across the sofa, her bright hair like a wood stove fire on a winter night. He wants to wrap her entire body around him like a blanket and have a long sleep.

“Yup, I’m drunk,” he declares, and throws back the last of his glass.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Culinary Adventures

First culinary adventure of the day? GUACAMOLE.

Of course, that necessitated a trip to the big grocery store because I needed avocados. Also tortilla chips. And eggs for the second culinary adventure of the day. And restocking the mallet meds. And while I was there, I bought face scrub and lip balm because my lips have been a bit of a mess lately-- ANYWAY I had to go to the big grocery store.

On a Sunday.

On a Sunday before a bank holiday.

While still in pain.

The things I do for culinary adventures, man; FUCK.

Most fun was at the pharmacy counter, because they’ve been looking for a pharmacy assistant at that counter for like a year now and I guess they’re not finding one because they’re significantly understaffed. So there was a queue. And there’s me with a small basket of groceries, leaning on a cane, who just wants one thing from behind the counter in a transaction that will take at most two minutes. But I’m patient as people ask their questions and explain their situations in painstaking detail and all three of the people in line ahead of me not only needed prescriptions but had some really awkward query about the whole thing. But y’know, I’m patient, I am In The Queue and even though I hurt, I am not going to get upset at these people. They probably have reasons for not doing this shit at a pharmacy that isn’t regularly understaffed, on a Sunday afternoon. I will not judge. I might be slightly snarky, but I will not judge.

I will, however, judge the asshole who, when I was finally being called up to the counter, butted in front of me and went, “Yeah, hi, I’m not here picking up a prescription but I had a question - do you sell--?”

I stood there marvelling at the audacity of this bitch as he went through a list of things that are not traditionally held behind the counter at a pharmacy - freezable gel packs, bandages, stuff like that. Stuff that he would easily have found if he had just actually looked at the fucking shelves before butting in on someone who had been patiently waiting for ten fucking minutes and was clearly not keen to be standing for too long (because, y’know, the fucking cane?) and without so much as an apology! Just a look at me like, “Eh, you can wait”.

Jackass also proceeded to block the aisle as I finally completed my purchase and made for the front of the store to pay for the rest of my groceries. Clearly heard me coming, because he looked at me ... and then went back to his minute inspection of bandages without so much as giving me an inch of extra clearance. I had to go around.

I hate people.

Also slightly annoyed because I did not find enough ripe avocado, really. I found a couple, though, and figured that’d probably be enough. I may have overdone it on the tomato, onion, and coriander on that basis, so it was almost more like a salsa than a guacamole, but either way, it tasted gorgeous on tortilla chips. Made good use of my jalapeno powder and my habanero salt, too. I was just going to take a quick taste but I ended up standing at the kitchen counter ending the life of half a bag of tortilla chips ferrying deliciousness to my face.

Next time: more avocado. Probably that will be easier later in the year.

Anyway, now I am moderately fortified and while I still hurt a great deal, I can have some rest and relaxation before I go forth on my second culinary adventure of the day: meatloaf. I know it seems weird to be all excited about meatloaf, but I’m still looking at things that I can cook that will be meals for a few days. Meatloaf feels like one of those things. ...I did forget to pick up potatoes, though, and like fuck am I going out again, so my options are frozen potato waffles or rice. I will probably go for the potato waffles.

[kaoticspoonie]

Tagged by @seldnei

Relationship status - Single

Favorite color - purple, basically always has been. Lavender is my go to shade now.

Favorite food - potatoes and broccoli. I have lots of favorites tho? Grits are currently high on the list.

Song stuck in your head -little freak by Harry styles

Last thing googled - esquites

I just got some from the vegan food place at the farmers market and so good!

Time - 1:51

Last book you read - umm like actual book? Probably a dog training book? The last one I remember reading front to back is nonfiction - Occam's razor. It's about mast cell activation disorder.

Last book you enjoyed - I tend to read fanfiction or things I can get thru quickly without hurting myself (I tend to hyperfocus and not eat or sleep until I'm done with the book/series). I did recently read Tamora Pierce's newest book and that was really good.

Last book you hated - I don't read books I hate. So probably high school required reading maybe?

Favorite thing to cook/bake - I went to culinary school? I love cooking? Probably big meals to cook with or for other ppl. Huevos, grits, or gumbo all come to mind, potentially bc they are my sister and/or best friends favorite things to eat!

Baking is salted chocolate chip cookies with crystalized ginger chunks. Bc it's impressive and just different enough and also I never get tired of eating them!

Favorite craft to do in your free time - quilting? Cooking? Pottery? All for different things. Quilting quiets my brain and gives me a sense of accomplishment. Cooking I get to share and nurture. Pottery is scheduled time to not have panic attacks and I enjoy it even tho I'm not good at it? Bc the point isn't to be good or the best? I also love gardening.

Most niche dislike - idk, depends on how niche/who I'm talking to. A lot of ppl think my dog specific things are niche but my followers will not? Like I hate front clip harnesses, especially in dogs under 3. And hate unrestrained pets in cars.

I also hate nonfunctioning garnish (on food the fancy like spring of cilantro you aren't supposed to eat and only is there for looks).

Also inaccessibility things. Lack of allergen menu availability.

Opinion on circuses - 

No. The ableism in 'freak shows' and the animal abuse in the animal acts. I do love a good enrichment show at some theme parks (like the dog show at Busch gardens).

Do you have a sense of direction and if not what's the worst way you've gotten lost? - 

Eh not really but I'm really good with maps? Mischief has a really good sense of direction? I don't really get lost? I have in big cities but always found my way pretty easily? Spent a few hours getting lost in Boston once but just head towards water and follow it back to a landmark lol

Last song listened to - 

Louis Tomlinson's leaked songs? So good.

Last show watched - 

Well I'm literally watching sandman right now? Just binged the new season of never have I ever?

Currently watching - 

Sandman?

Current reading - 

Fanfiction? And I have like four dog training books and two medical books on my nightstand I jump around with.

Current obsession -

I don't love the term obsession? Pretty sure I have OCD (in the process of seeking treatment). But current interests is dog nutrition, quilting, and redoing all my medical binders. Mine and the animals. I redo them every few months and get a little much about them? Also really into constantly having music and making playlists lately? Sometimes I'll go months without listening to music other then the car and other times it's nonstop.