#send help and compost

[firstprincemarketing]

Grow Vegetables Small Space: 13 Amazing Tips! (Yes, Even if Your "Garden" is a Shoebox)

Alright, let's be real. Your current "garden" situation is probably: a) A single, very judgmental succulent. b) A windowsill full of good intentions and... dust. c) A balcony so small, your plants would need to file for joint custody. d) All of the above, plus a shoebox you swear you'll turn into a planter one day. 🥲

If you're nodding along, feeling personally attacked, and dreaming of fresh veggies but have approximately zero (0) actual space – WELCOME, YOU'RE MY PEOPLE.

But what if I told you that your tragically tiny patch of urban despair (or that very shoebox!) could actually... grow food? Like, real, edible, "I-made-dis" food? 🤯

Feast your eyes, my fellow space-challenged comrades, upon 13 genuinely amazing (and surprisingly NOT impossible) tips on how to grow vegetables in very small space. We're talking balconies that are basically just wide windowsills, doorsteps that have seen better days, and yes, even the aforementioned shoebox. 🌱✨🍅

Picture it:

Snipping fresh herbs for your gourmet ramen like a culinary god.

Tiny tomatoes that taste like sunshine, not disappointment.

The sheer, unadulterated POWER of presenting a single, perfect radish to your roommate like it's the Hope Diamond. "MARVEL AT MY CREATION."

Tired of your plants having more drama than a reality TV show? Ready to transform your microscopic domain into an actually productive (and hilarious) micro-garden?

➡️ CLICK HERE to unlock all 13 life-changing secrets and finally become the tiny garden overlord you were always meant to be: https://containergardeningebook.com/grow-vegetables-small-space/

Go on, your future self (who is probably eating a tiny salad made with homegrown lettuce) will thank you.

(Now, if you need me, I'll be serenading my window box carrots. They appreciate the effort.)

#small space gardening, #container gardening #how to grow vegetables, #plantblr, #gardening tips, #urban gardening, #apartment gardening, #tiny garden, #grow your own food, #send help and compost, #my plants are my children, #vegetable garden, #shoebox garden challenge, #diy garden, #plantcore, #help my balcony is tiny, #i believe in tiny tomato supremacy, #gardening for millennials (and everyone else tbh)

[m1ssc0mmun1cat10n]

Guys, I bought some dynamic lifter from Bunnings the other day and a bloody hole tore on the side when I lifted it out and it poured, poured high-potency shit-pellets down the side of and beneath by rear carseats and my. god.

my god.

the smell.

I went and used a turbo vacuum at a car wash place to get as much out as I could but I think I'm gonna need to shell out cash for someone to remove the seats to detail beneath them because my car currently smells like concentrated upchuck with a splash of death.

[marlynnofmany]

Dangerous Teeth

As I watched the struggle with the door mechanism, I thought again that it was good we’d gotten our delivery done early. Planetary time zones being what they are, it’s usually inconvenient to land at a spaceport in the pre-dawn, while everyone on our ship is wide awake. Nothing to do but wait until the clients are ready to receive whatever we’re bringing them. Today though, our client was an early riser. I’d taken a short walk from the ship with Mur and Paint, and we’d dropped off three lightweight boxes of exotic moss. Then we were free to stop by the local food court as soon as it opened.

It wasn’t open yet, which is why we’d picked this nice little garden lounge to wait. It was indoors with artificial sun. It had a single door. That door had just thrown a rod or whatever, and now it refused to open again.

I sat on a low bench (awkwardly low) and watched while Mur and a Waterwill who’d also gotten stuck in here pried off the panel over the door mechanism. I would have liked to help somehow, but all my expertise was in biological things, not technological. Plus my fingers were nowhere near as maneuverable as Mur’s tentacles or whatever the Waterwills called their extendable tendrils. This one was making some very tiny ones, not the usual arm-chunks. Fingers would be no help here.

And Paint was handling the phone calls: she’d brought a bag with many pockets, planning to fill it with food, but so far all it contained was her communicator, and she was putting that to good use. She’d already notified our ship. Now she was trying to get ahold of someone official who could send a mechanic. She paced back and forth, rattling claws across her arm scales and speaking intensely.

That left me with nothing to do except sample the local snackberries, which were rooted in a pot next to the bench with a detailed sign about which species could safely eat them. Each branch was grafted from a different plant. There was an elaborate chart on that sign. As usual, the section for humans showed that we could eat every single berry there. Oh, and there were nuts too. Nice.

I tried something like a pistachio with a spiky shell, decided it was extremely average, then entertained myself briefly with the compost can next to the sign. The motion sensor / scanning field at the top of it would open only for acceptable compost. Any other trash was the responsibility of whoever brought it in here. I tossed the two shell halves in one at a time, watched the mini force field blink on and off, then looked for more nuts to do it again.

A quiet hello made me crane my neck in confusion. There was no way the bush could talk, right? Alien gene-splicing wouldn’t have gone that far. But thankfully no, it wasn’t science with questionable morals; it was somebody hiding on the other side.

“Hello!” I said, trying to get a better look. “Sorry, I didn’t see you back there.”

“That’s good,” said the brown-furred fellow huddled among the berries. “Maybe no one else will either.”

I glanced back at the door, but saw just my two coworkers and the Waterwill, none of whom were paying attention. I asked quietly, “Are you hiding from someone specific?”

“No,” he said, not elaborating. He took a mouthful of something green, and for a moment I thought he was eating the leaves of the berry bush, which weren’t on the list of edible items. But he lifted it higher for a second bite, and I could identify a handful of grasslike stuff from a different food pot. The fast-growing lettuce area. A herbivore specialty.

I told him, “I don’t think you have anyone to be afraid of here.”

He didn’t answer for a moment, just looking around with wide eyes and eating the rest of his handful of grass. His teeth were distinctly the gnawing sort. Finally, he asked, “Do you know how long it will take to get the door open?”

“Hard to say.” I turned back to see Mur and the Waterwill talking animatedly, the door still firmly shut. Paint looked like she was on hold. “Hopefully not long. If they can’t figure it out, the maintenance people should be able to open it from the other side.”

“I’ve seen them,” was the quiet response. “They’re scary.”

“The maintenance crew? Scary how?”

The guy got even quieter. “Flesh-eaters. There are so many here. I didn’t know when I came.”

I thought about my answer very carefully. “You know that none of them want to eat you, right? That sort of thing is horrifying to civilized society as a whole.”

The guy twitched his ears, which I hadn’t realized were folded back, in scared rabbit style. “They said that. Not sure if I believe it yet.”

“Society couldn’t function if people went around eating each other!” I insisted. “Think about it. People need to trust one another to some degree, otherwise they wouldn’t be able to cooperate when they’re all living together in the same place. Food comes from the food stores. Anyone who hurts another person intentionally is likely to get in trouble with the authorities. And that’s for small things, much less full-on killing and eating them!”

He twitched his nose, very rabbitlike. “But with all those sharp teeth, don’t they get tempted? Aren’t flesh-eaters hardwired to crave flesh when they’re hungry?”

“Not from other people who can talk back to them,” I said. “And most of the flesh-eaters I know prefer to cook their food.”

He bared his gnawing teeth. “Burning the flesh before they eat it. Horrifying.”

I wanted to ask if his people didn’t cook their food, since plenty of plants gave up more nutrition when softened like that, but I thought better of it. The answer was probably no, and he would ask about my people’s food, and that was a topic I wanted to steer well clear of. The poor guy had seen me eating plants and made an assumption that I wasn’t eager to correct.

Then, in what felt like very bad timing, Paint put her communicator away and walked back over. I winced. For probably the first time ever, I looked at the gentlest person on our ship, and really noticed her sharp teeth and claws.

Paint told me, “They said someone will be on the way soon. I couldn’t get them to specify soon exactly. Somehow this doesn’t seem like a high priority to them.” She frowned.

“That’s unfortunate,” I said. “Would you like to try a berry? There’s a chart here that says which is safe for who.”

“Goodness, what a lot of choices!” Paint looked at the chart, then at the bush. Then she bent down and peered between the branches. “Hello back there!”

The rabbity guy was silent, frozen in place like a very frightened lawn decoration. He didn’t even blink.

I sighed, then told her quietly, “He’s afraid of flesh-eaters.”

Paint looked stricken. “Oh no! Why?”

“Because he’s made of flesh.”

“But so is everybody!” Paint exclaimed. “No one’s going to eat him!” She looked back into the bush. “Nobody wants to eat you. I promise.”

The guy seemed to be making a conscious effort to take deep breaths. “What about them?” he whispered, pointing a paw-hand toward the pair still working on the door. “I heard them talk about the breakfast they’re looking forward to. They mentioned creatures with fur and gnawing teeth.”

“That was—” Paint said. “They didn’t mean you! Mur was talking about an animal from his planet, a little one that’s not a person. They’re about this big, and they meet absolutely none of the criteria for sapient beings.” She held her hands a few inches apart. “He wants to get food from the stalls at the food court like everybody else.”

I nodded. “That’s what I’ve been saying.”

Paint nodded even more vigorously. “See? Robin knows. She's the animal expert, the person to ask about which type of creature would attack another.”

I opened my mouth to add something else, but Paint was still talking.

“And her species eats everything, so she knows about it from all sides!”

The guy made a little erk noise, and I sighed. “That’s less helpful,” I told Paint.

She seemed to be realizing that herself. “Sorry,” she said to me, then addressed the guy in the bush. “I thought you knew! But really, that just proves our point. You’ve been next to a flesh-eater all this time, and nobody’s tried to bite you.”

I agreed, “Just these berries.” I popped another one into my mouth, then regretted it. “Ugh, that one’s sour.”

Paint consulted the chart. “I think it’s called a sourbud.”

“That makes sense. Bluh. I got it mixed up with these other whatsits, the sunsweet ones. Similar color.”

“Very different smell, though,” Paint said with sniff like a wine connoisseur.

“Yes, we both know about your sense of smell.”

“Ooh, what are these? They smell amazing.”

The two of us talked for a bit about the various snack plants, deliberately ignoring the quiet rabbit guy, giving him time to process our very nonthreatening attitudes.

I was starting to suspect that he’d stay hidden in the bush until the maintenance crew came and went, but eventually there was a quiet rustle of leaves. With his eyes still wide and his motions timid, he took a seat on the far end of the bench.

Paint was still standing, and greeted him from a safe distance. “Good to see you! Would you like a berry? We can help you find the best ones.”

He was very brave and said yes. We consulted the chart and his preferences in flavor, and spent a few friendly minutes selecting berries. When it became clear that we weren’t going to make any surprise lunges at him, he gradually relaxed. His ears really did look like a rabbit’s when he let them stand up straight.

Mur yelled, “Aha!”

I looked up to see him with most of his tentacles braced against the wall, pulling hard on something that looked like a cable. I worried that he was about to either electrocute himself or destroy the mechanism completely, then I saw the small leaves.

It was a vine, and it had grown up inside the electronics panel. The various plants lined up along the wall looked carefully cultivated, but somebody had missed this one. If the leaves sprouting from the flowerpot closest to the door were as familiar as they looked, then that was probably the culprit. The visible plants were all wrapped around a decorative spiral frame. I had a sneaking suspicion that the drainage holes at the bottom of that pot were big enough for rebellious roots to sneak out, and take unauthorized journeys.

Mur called, “Anybody got a blade? This is a tough one.”

“I don’t. Paint?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I only brought the communicator. Too bad we don’t have Zhee or Trrili with us. They could probably make short work of it.”

While their praying mantis blade arms could have done it, I thought of a better idea. I said with a smile, “You know who else could? Our friend here with the gnawing teeth.”

He looked startled, but not afraid. “What, me?”

“Sure! Out of everyone here, you’re the only one whose teeth are built for slicing through tough plants with ease. Care to show us how it’s done and save the day?”

It took a little encouraging, but not as much as I’d expected. We checked the signage near the pot first, just to be sure I wasn’t urging him to chew on something toxic, and we confirmed that this was the same type of plant. Mur hauled as much of it into the open as he could, which wasn’t much. The Waterwill held various door bits in place. Then the rabbity guy stepped forward and was brave enough to put his head close to Mur’s tentacles.

He bit through the vine with a couple of swift chomps, separating the middle segment right where Mur had suggested.

“Nice work!” Mur said, moving the remainder of the vine. “Now we can tuck the rest of this nonsense to the side and reassemble the parts where they’re supposed to be.”

The Waterwill said, “Already on it,” reshaping one water tendril and maneuvering it around like a locksmith.

Paint looked up at the hero of the hour, who was still holding the segment of vine. “Hooray, you did it! Do you want more berries to celebrate?”

“Yes please,” he said, still breathing a little quickly. “That tasted terrible.”

We got him some of the berries that he liked best, then heard a promising klunk and more celebration. The door trundled open.

Mur made cheerful burbling noises. “Go team!”

“Quick, everybody out before it does something else bizarre!” said the Waterwill, immediately scooting out into the open.

Nobody was about to argue that point. We all hurried outside to where we wouldn’t be trapped again, then waved goodbye to the Waterwill. Paint called the officials back with an update on what kind of problem the mechanics would need to fix.

Mur said, “I’m off to the food court. It’ll definitely be open by now.”

“We’ll be right behind you,” I told him.

He spun off in a whirl of tentacles. I looked down at the rabbity fellow, who looked small now that I was standing up. But he stood taller than he had all morning.

I said, “Thanks again.”

He twitched his ears happily and said, “It was my pleasure!” He sounded a bit surprised by that.

“Off to get your own breakfast?”

He nodded decisively. “Yes. And no one’s going to bite me.”

“Right!” I agreed. “Even if they did, you could bite them right back!”

He smiled a fierce little rabbit smile, then scampered off into the spaceport.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Besotted 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your new neighbour brings intrigue and a bit of danger.

Characters: ex-con!Bucky Barnes

Note: It's hump day, my dudes.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You don’t see Bucky at all the next day. His motorcycle is gone when you leave for work and when you come back. You assume he has his own work to do, or some running around. He did just move in. You try not to take it personally but you are disappointed. 

This is a lot more fun than all those other times. You’re not as stressed, not as insecure. Maybe it’s because you’re not hoping for more. Because you took a page out of Angelique’s book and stopped caring. One way or another, you’re going to get rid of your v-card. It doesn’t have to be special, it just has to happen. 

On your day off, you decide to get rid of the prickly weeds around the front porch. It's the perfect opportunity for you to show off your shortest shorts and blast some tunes while you’re at it. You put on your rose gold headphone and the best of girly pop. 

You smell coffee but don’t see your neighbour. You don’t want to be too obvious. You get down on your knees and pull-on the dollar store gardening gloves. You’re not good at any of this but these damn plants keep scratching your ankles. 

Before long, your alternative motives drift away as you wrestle with roots. You yank free a particularly stubborn weed and send up a cloud of dandelion fluff. You sneeze into the back of the glove. A shadow passes over you and a gentle tap lands on your shoulder. 

You squeak and drop the leaves. You pull off your headphones and twist to look up at Bucky. Your shoulder tingles where he touched. It’s hard to think someone like him can be so soft. 

“I’m headed into town...” he crosses his arms, the cleft in his chin deepening as he mulls his words, “you said you wanted to test out the motorcycle...” 

“Oh really!” You exclaim as you look up at him. You focus on his face, even as you’re innately aware of how close your are to something else. “Oh, Bucky, that’s so awesome. I’ve been so excited for this.” You gather up the compost bag and he offers his hand. He hauls you up to your feet and reluctantly let go. “I’ve been so patient.” 

He hums, “you can’t wear those. You’ll get burned.” 

He looks down at your shorts. You giggle. You pull off your gloves and clutch them together. “I’ll get changed. I have the perfect pants!” 

He just nods. 

“I’ll wait,” he assures and points over his shoulder. 

You grin and spin to rush away, headphones bouncing around your neck. You dump the gloves and bag on the porch and clatter through the door. You stop to wipe the dirt off your knees and strip off your shorts before you get to the bedroom. 

You search out the fake leather leggings with all the fake zippers. The sun won’t be kind but you don’t mind. You slip into them and find a strappy red top with a bandana style cut at the hem. The bejeweled letters across the front read ‘sinful’. It’s cheesy but you love it. 

You find a pair of sunglasses with thick black cat eyes and trade your sandals for leather booties. You hook your purse across your body as you come out with a jangle of your keys. You zip those away with your phone as you come down the stair. 

Your chest jiggles with each step as your upper tummy peeks out beneath the fabric. Bucky looks over and arches a brow. You approach as he takes a helmet from the handlebar. 

“Found a spare,” he offers. 

You take it and thank him. His eyes skitter between you and the bike. You giggle and tap your heels in excitement. You're genuinely amped up for this. 

“It’s so cool!” You say, “oh, will you take a picture of me with the bike?” 

He squints and his cheek dimples. He shrugs, “sure.” 

“Amazing,” you unzip the small crossbody pouch, “here.” 

You unlock your phone, your background a picture of you, Angelique, and another friend, Tracy, your backscreen. You bring up the camera and hand it over. 

“Oh, can I get on or?” You face the motorcycle. 

“Sure, be careful.” 

You put the helmet on and let the straps hang loose. First you pose in front of it and cock your hip. He aims the lens, your flowery blue and purple case looks dainty in his large tattooed hands. Then you cautiously approach. He comes closer and puts his hand under your elbow to help you onto the backseat. You notice the backrest that wasn’t there before and the shining new chrome bolts that hold it on. 

You straddle it as he backs up. You stick your tongue out for another picture. Then you smile and give a peace sign. 

He lowers the phone and nears, offering it to you. You snag his forearm, “and a selfie? Together.” 

He twitches. “I don’t much like pictures.” 

“Just a memory. Promise, I won’t show anyone.” 

He growls and shows his palms, “what... what do you want me to do.” 

“Here, turn,” you direct him, “put your arm around me and get in frame.” 

You flip the camera and extend your arms. He moves stiffly and hovers his arm over your shoulders. He smells like oaky cologne. You smile as he growls at his own reflection in the phone. You lean into him and watch his features calm then snap the photo. 

“So cute,” you exclaim. “That’s my new wallpaper.” You tap on the three dots and quickly replace the pic of you and your girls, “see.” 

“Huh?” He stands straight. 

“Everyone’s going to think I’m so badass. I mean, I’m not, but they’ll think I am,” you chime. “Oh, uh,” the straps tickle your neck as you put your phone away, “Bucky, I’m so dumb. Can you help?” 

You pinch the straps and flick your lashes at him. He exhales again. You stare at the front of his plain black tee. It clings to his muscles and squeezes his thick biceps. He takes the straps and loops one through the metal ring. His fingertips brush your throat and chin. 

He slowly tugs it snug and his hands freeze. He stares at them and his gaze slowly crawls up to your lips. The air turns stolid around you. He winces and puts his hand on the helmet, wiggling it to test it. 

“Good to go,” he drags his hand off and turns his back to you.  

He grabs the other helmet and pulls it on over his hair. He slides on his sunglasses before he straddles the bike in front of you. He grips the handlebars and takes it off the stand, kicking it back as he easily supports the heavy beast of a bike. His strength is felt in the shifting axel. 

“Gotta hang on unless you want road burn,” he says over his shoulder. “Gonna be loud.” 

“I can handle it,” you assure him as you lean in and wrap your arms around his middle.  

You feel his stomach clench. He turns the key then brings his hand back to turn the throttle, making the bike roar. He walks it back and angles it down the street. He gets it rolling then puts his feet up, zipping off through a tunnel of wind. 

You let out a gleeful holler. The rush is unlike anything you felt. Your heart is pumping and your veins are on fire. You hug him tighter and laugh raucously. 

He stops at a sign and plants his boots, “you okay?” He calls over his shoulder. 

“I’m perfect. I’m-- I’m in heaven!” You answer and wiggle in the seat. 

He takes off again. You squeal and cling to him. You watch the smear of the buildings, trees, and pavement. You feel like you’re flying. Not to mention, you’re vibrating. You feel your leggings getting wet. This is more than fun, it’s fucking hot. 

At last, he stops and quiets the beast. You look around the plaza as he kicks down the stand. He waits and signals you off first with the tilt of his head. You get off and he follows. 

“Hope you don’t mind,” he says. “Boring stuff.” 

You look over at the organic shop sign. You laugh, “are you buying gluten free granola?” 

“Something like that,” he almost smiles. Almost. 

“Hang onto that,” he taps the helmet. 

You unloop the straps and hang it from your elbow, “yes--” you have to stop yourself from saying daddy. You’re not sure if it’s a joke or serious at this point. “Sir.” 

He eyes you then scoffs, “alright, then, doll, let’s go.” 

His cheek ticks and he looks away. He turns his back to you quickly and beckons you with his hands. You follow. 

“Doll,” you say. 

“Sorry--” he begins. 

“I like it. It’s cute! Like a Barbie, right?” 

He sniffs and opens the door of the shop, “sure, something like that.” 

Or a sex doll? You think to yourself. You nearly dance through the door. This is an amazing day. 

He enters behind you. You radiate to the rack of plant-based candies. They are all so colourful. He sidles along to the bin of trail mix. He takes a paper bag and dumps a scoop inside. 

“They have any with M&Ms?” You shuffle up next to him. He grunts. “Kidding.” 

“Good food,” he mutters. “Nice place.” 

“I’ve never been before,” you say. “You’re not vegan? That pie I made had real meat?” 

He snorts and shakes his head, “nah, just... try to appreciate the small things, these days.” 

“Right. Well, it’s a really cool place—oh, cookies!” 

You brush by him and snag up a box of the vanilla glazed shortbread. They look delicious. You turn to him and grin as you show him. 

“Small things, right?” You bounce back toward him. 

He stares at you a moment, “yeah.” He nods and folds over the top of the paper bag. “There’s... there’s a bar around the corner.” 

“Oh, a bar?” You chirp. “How about I buy you a round? For the ride?” 

“Mm, I was just gonna run over and deal with... talk to a friend.” He browses as he speaks. “Thought you could wait with the motorcycle.” 

“Oh,” you deflate, “whatever you like.” 

“Or... you can sit for a drink. Won’t be long,” he shrugs. 

“Bucky, I’m all yours. I’ll do whatever you want.” 

He coughs and grabs a loaf of ten grain. 

“One drink,” he grits out. 

👙

You buy your cookies and Bucky his small haul of groceries. He fits it all in his saddle bags as you watch. He comes around and points you around the other side of the plaza. He walks beside you. As you think about how you must look together, you get all fluttery. 

You’re tempted to grab his hand but you don’t want to spoil all your progress. After all, he invited you. And now he’s taking you for a drink. Sort of. 

He holds the door at the bar for you, greeting the bouncer with familiarity. You look around the dim space. It’s just after noon, there’s not too many people there. He points you to a table. 

“What do you drink?” He asks. 

“Do you think they have appletinis?” You ask. He blinks. You laugh at him. “Joking, I’ll have a light beer. Any brand.” 

“Right, doll, coming right up.” 

You sit and watch him go. He talks to the bar tender and points to the table. Then he walks up around the curve of the bar and into the backroom. You narrow your eyes curiously. Huh. 

The bartender pulls a tap and pours the pint. He brings it to you. “Miss.” He retreats as if he’s afraid of you. Before you can even thank him. 

You pull the tall glass close as condensation hazes along the outside. You taste the thin layer of foam. It’s a bit tangy. You peer around listlessly. This isn’t very exciting. 

This isn’t the typical sports bar. There's a pool table and a dartboard but no TVs for the games. There’s leather jackets and skull emblems and a few disarmed guns on wooden plaques. 

There’s a thunk from the back of the bar then the slam of a door. You peer over as Bucky emerges and stops at the bar. Without a word, the bartender pours him a dark glass of liquor. He grabs it and marches over to you. He sits and sighs. 

“Had to hit the restroom,” he says. 

“No worries,” you make yourself drink the beer. Wheaty. 

“You make up your mind?” He asks. 

“Hmm,” you wipe foam from your lip. 

“About the motorcycle. Still want one?” 

“I definitely want one!” You grin. He brushes his fingertips over his knuckles. They’re reddened. Is one of them split? Were they like that before? 

“It’s an investment. Those new ones are... well, if you’re looking for a vintage model, I know some people. I could do any bodywork you need,” he offers. 

“Really? Oh, Bucky, you’re so sweet!” You chime. 

His mouth slants, curving at one corner. He takes a swig of his drink. 

“Not really, doll,” he rests his chin in his hand. “But for you, I’ll try.” 

[pinkaditty]

Holidays with Ghouls (Sho Haizono x Reader; Tokyo Debunker)

please read:

okay. big news + life update: i got into a major car accident a little while ago. my first one ever! i am in a lot of pain so things may be slow-going for a while and ill be unable to commit as much time to writing due to the tangled mess that is dealing with modern insurance companies and recovering from my injuries. thankfully its not so bad to be hospitalized, but its bad enough to limit my activity for the time being. i am somewhat ashamed to ask, but if you like my writing, please consider donating to my cashapp: $cindyfromstarbucks! my car was 100% totaled, and im gonna need to save up for a new one, and my job doesn’t pay very much. thank you for your consideration! please enjoy, regardless! (this paragraph will be on my posts indefinitely, probably until i fully recover)

a/n: LET ME START THIS OFF BY SAYING IT’S ENTIRELY SELF-INDULGENT… i have a green thumb and i’ve been growing a small garden lately (limited space. i hate captialism.) and i just thought “hm. what if we grew fresh ingredients for sho’s food truck?” and the idea stuck and didn’t leave no matter how much i tried 2 shake it off. mc is basically written as me im not gonna hold y’all, but i kept it 2 a minimum so it could still be an ‘x reader’. 

summary: self-indulgent reader x sho. in which you do something nice for him and he struggles to return the favor. 

no cw! enjoy!

big fan of the “woman that is so wound up all the time and extremely professional and tries to keep everyone at arm’s length distance” x “guy that is only a few years younger than the woman but loves calling her by age-appropriate honorifics (i.e. noona, ojou, jiejie, madame, etc) and goes out of his way to teach her how to fucking relax every once in a while” trope and essentially if i were with sho that is how the relationship would go LMFAOOOOOOO

You used to have a bit of a garden before becoming a student at Darkwick. A part of you often wondered if there were people tending to your garden now so you could return to it, well kept and exactly as you remember it, when you were cured of this curse and got this anomalous ring off of you. You'd never really had the idea to plant anything here; you were much too focused on missions and other incessant errands the ghouls saw fit to send you on. You didn't like it, but held your tongue regardless. If all went well, you wouldn't have to deal with this after less than a year. 

You were fond of a few ghouls, though. Some of them were a nice reprieve from the other harsher and more selfish ghouls. Haku was a great example of that, and so was Subaru, his dorm's captain. You'd grown fond on the Jabberwock ghouls, as they were always kind and polite. You didn't really mind the Obscuary ghouls, either. Even if odd, they were good natured, and never turned you away. You appreciated that Rui had a bit of a green thumb too, and would often stop by to assist him with plant care. 

The one ghoul you were the most fond of, despite his less than agreeable best friend, was Haizono, or Sho, as he insisted on being called. Sho, despite his friend Leo, was actually pretty friendly. You enjoyed the time you spent around him, whether that was collecting supplies from the diner, or training with him, or even helping him meal prep for the following day for his food truck. It was fun, spending time with Sho. You're almost angry the idea didn't dawn on you sooner.

Said idea is why you carefully sift through the dirt in your compost container, careful not to split any of the worms with your nails. The potatoes should be done growing by now. The idea had dawned on you one day when Sho mentioned not having enough potatoes to serve fries the following day. Potatoes were an easy crop. And they took three months, at most, to grow. Sure, if worse came to worst, you'd die, but growing potatoes was a good distraction and encouraged you to plan for the future, as though you wouldn't die. After a few favors from Benji and some begging towards the chancellor, you had a small garden behind the chapel. Granted, you'd just started it three months ago, so it wasn't as full as your garden back home, but it was good enough. It was hidden from the rest of campus by the surrounding trees, ensuring no one would find the garden unless they had reason to cut around the chapel, which wasn't necessary considering the path out front. Not only did it serve as your little place of respite, it allowed you to do nice things for others. You were just growing potatoes for now, but it felt like enough of a starter, at least. You’d just planted some tomato seeds that you’d hoped Sho would also find a use for. 

Once done harvesting a substantial batch of potatoes, you wrap them up in plastic bags to look like you bought them. It would save you the embarrassment of having to explain that you’d grown them yourself. 

It’s pleasantly chilly outside, the still afternoon air heavy with promises of cold weather and a white winter holiday. Dirt remained underneath your fingernails from all that harvesting, but it was a small price to pay. Your heart pounded with anticipation and exertion as you made the trek to Vagastrom, heading for the nearby food truck. As expected, you find Sho sitting on one of his supply boxes, far underdressed for the cold weather. You can’t tell if he’s resistant to it or rebelling against it, but you can tell he’s cold. His cheeks and nose are tinged red and his eyes are squinted against the cold wind. You can even tell he’s sniffling with how often he inhales. You exhale both fondly and exasperatedly. The stubbornness of these ghouls was simultaneously attractive and irritating. 

You make it no secret you’re approaching, the bag of potatoes crinkling with your upbeat steps and your own runny nose sniffling in response to the cold wind. You place the bag of potatoes beside him with a heavy ‘thud’, to which he finally looks up, appearing jolted out of his thoughts. 

“Here,” you start, taking your scarf from around your neck and tying it around his without waiting for a reaction. “You must be an idiot to sit out in the cold with just your uniform on.”

“Senpai.” He greets you with wide eyes, watching but not protesting as you tie your scarf around his neck. He appears confused at first, his lips pursing at your actions, but seems to relent as he buries his face into the scarf. You watch as he settles into it, his eyes sliding shut against the cold wind, his nose and lips finding warm solace in the comfort of your scarf. Before long, he pulls it away, revealing himself back to the chilly air with a slight wince. “...No need. Thank you, though.” He glances up at you with a smile before rising to his feet and dusting off his knees. “Whatcha got here?” He gestures to the plastic bag before picking it up, far more effortlessly than you, and inspecting it. 

“Potatoes.” Your breath puffs out in a white cloud. “They’re for your food truck. I remembered you mentioned you were running low, so… I decided to help and buy you some.” At some point, you’d shifted your attention to the ground, toeing at a rock as you realized how ridiculous that sounded. Surely Sho could handle himself. He might even find your help embarrassing, when you really think about it. 

You sneak a glance at him and are relieved to see a small smile on his face as he observes the potatoes. He huffs out a light breath, his face visibly softening. “You didn’t have to do that.” He slings the bag over his shoulder, using his other hand to ruffle your hair and return the scarf. “Come on,” he turns around, headed for the door of the food truck. “You can help me prep.”

‘That’s only helpful if you’ll have any customers in this cold,’ you think to yourself, but decide not to say aloud. Instead, you watch the slow smile on his face as he nods towards you, and continues towards the truck. Crazy, how a simple glance of his could make your heart race. Something about the warmth of his smile, the feel of his fingers carding through your hair, and the leftover scent of his cologne lingering on your scarf tugged at your heart, just a little bit. 

You briskly follow after him, throwing the scarf back over his neck. “Keep it,” you say sternly, watching as he turns to you quizzically. “Have you seen the state of yourself in this cold?” The phrase ‘I want you to have it,’ lingers on your tongue, but you decide not to voice that, instead letting a small amused smile rest on your face. You vaguely gesture to him, your gaze flicking to his red cheeks and nose. He rolls his eyes, noting your point, and keeps the scarf around his neck, opening the side door to his food truck.

“Alright, fine. I’ll wash it and return it.”

As he steps inside the food truck, even from standing behind him you feel a wave of warmth. You follow, stepping inside, feeling the sweet relief of pleasant warm air and smelling the scent of roast chicken. The environment is warm and cozy, wrapping around you like a cushy blanket or a hug from a loved one. Sho closes the door behind you and you note your scarf is still around his neck. Something clicks.

“Wait a minute. You won’t need that.” You point to his scarf, your nose crinkling in mock displeasure. He instinctively flinches away, looking at you with a raised brow. He was seemingly already protective of your scarf, even though he’d only just received it. “Hand it over.”

“That’s hardly fair.” A crooked smile forms on Sho’s face and his brow raises higher. “Why do you assume I won’t need it?”

Indignantly, you gesture to the warm space surrounding you. Sizzling meat, a warm oven, and heaters in a corner, adjusting the temperature of the truck. “Vagastrom is literally right next to here. What do you need that for?”

He doesn’t answer directly, instead tilting his head at you. “I seem to remember a certain someone insisting I keep this scarf. Are you going to go back on your word?”

You clamp your mouth shut, remembering what you’d said and did earlier. He was right, you had insisted, even if only a little. You huff out a frustrated breath, crossing your arms and furrowing your brows. He laughs at your display, pulling the scarf off of him and tossing it on a high shelf of boxes you couldn’t reach. “Like I said, I’ll wash it and return it.”

You decide to swallow this loss. You had other scarves at the chapel anyway, and if he was going to use it, at least it wasn’t going to waste. 

You look around the space again before taking off your coat and hanging it on one of the hooks on the door. “Any plans for winter break? Will you be going anywhere?” 

“Nah.” Sho shook his head, checking on the chicken in the small oven before continuing to stir fry a vegetable medley on the stove, jutting his shoulder out towards the cutting board, covered in various vegetables. You wash your hands before heading over, carefully scraping at the dirt built up under your fingernails from digging. “Unless my… brother… goes, I’m not going. He’ll beat my ass if I don’t and he does.” A look of displeasure crosses Sho’s face, and you have to hold back a laugh at the thought of Professor Hyde chastising Sho for not seeing his family over break. 

You head over to the vegetables laid out on the cutting board, and start with the garlic, peeling it out of its husk. “Sounds like a struggle.”

He scoffs, pouring soy sauce over the vegetables and tossing them before scraping them off on a nearby to-go container. “Holidays are always a struggle with pushy family.” Despite his outward scowl, amusement lights up his eyes for a moment. 

You chuckle, having finished chopping up the garlic and moving to a green bell pepper. You slice it open, its seeds spilling onto the cutting board. “Your family’s pushy?”

“Yes, too pushy sometimes.” Sho shakes his head, shooing you to the side as he grabs potholders to pull the chicken out of the oven. “My brother’s more like my parents than I am.” He carefully places the roast chicken down on a short counter. It’s golden brown, stuffed with rosemary sprigs, lemon slices, and garlic cloves. 

He places it to the side, readying the frying pain and reaching for the peppers you’d chopped, tossing them into the oil. You finish a pepper and reach for a leek next, slicing it into thick chunks. Your eyes flicker back over to the chicken momentarily, rosemary stems sticking out of it like a tail. “The rosemary stems look like a chicken tail.” You voice the thought absentmindedly, smiling to yourself. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Sho glance over at the chicken himself. You hear a huffed laugh as he returns his attention to the peppers, sizzling in the oil. “Yeah, it does.” He’s silent for a moment before speaking up again. “Speaking of, it was hard to find fresh rosemary this time around.”

You look up, having finished cutting the leek. A confused expression crosses your face. “Where in the world would you find fresh rosemary in the dead of winter?” You look away, reaching for a carrot, slicing it thinly.

“Rosemary’s an evergreen,” Sho states flatly, reaching for the leek and garlic you cut earlier, mixing it in with the batch of peppers on the stove and stirring them. “You can find that fresh anytime. What’s harder to find, however…” Sho trails off, leaving the stove for a split second, reaching for the bag of your potatoes he’d placed on the ground earlier. He opens the bag and pulls one out, some dirt still stuck in the indents of its skin. “...Is fresh potatoes. They’re typically harvested in the fall.” He smiles at you, before turning away to rinse it off.

Realizing you’d been caught in a lie, you turn away from him, putting all of your focus on the carrot in front of you. You hear his footsteps slowly approaching before he places a freshly washed potato right in front of you, his hand shaking with mirth. 

“Come on, MC. Don’t think I didn’t notice the dirt under your fingernails.” He chuckles before turning back to the stove, stirring the vegetables again. You drop the knife with a clatter and hide your hands behind your back, too nervous to check if you’d missed any spots. 

You sneak a glance up at him, mistakenly making eye contact with him. His eyes gleam with amusement and his smile is soft and fond. “...It can’t have been that obvious.” You decide to admit to it, realizing the heat in your cheeks probably gave it away. 

“It wasn’t.” Sho nods to you, pouring soy sauce over the stir-fried mixture and tossing it before scraping that off in a different to-go container. “I just happened to notice the dirt when you handed the scarf to me, and your potatoes smelled extra earthy.” He takes the pan off the heat, moving over to the chicken and carefully cutting out the breast. 

It’s silent for a few moments, you staring at that freshly cleaned potato and Sho slicing through the chicken, placing the breast in one to-go container and the wings in the other. Sho finally speaks up, though his voice is low. “...You didn’t have to do that, you know.” You look up again, just to find him turned away from you, his ears turning red. Silence falls again as you watch him check off the to-go containers he’s finished. You assume he’s trying to distract himself from the obvious blush on his face, but you can’t say for sure. Something about it makes you feel similar, your heart rate picking up and your face reddening more. It wasn’t due to your embarrassment anymore. “I dunno, I’m bad at thanking people. Just, well…” Sho trails off, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, hiding his face from you. His voice lowers significantly, and contrastingly, the blush on his ears brightens more. “Thank you. I know potatoes take a while to grow. And…” He trails off again and swallows thickly. You don’t bother asking him to finish his sentence. The implications of his words grow somewhat heavy in your heart, and you wring your fingers nervously. Of course it was profound, growing potatoes for someone when you’re doomed to die, now in nine months. The thought of dedicating your time to anything that wasn’t curing your curse was odd, but this distraction had done you well nonetheless. You didn’t want Sho to feel bad about it at all. You were certain that, if anything, the gravity of being recognized by a girl doomed to die was dawning on him. 

The words spill out before you can really stop them. “Don’t worry about it, Sho. I did that because I wanted to.” Confessing this was almost as raw as confessing your feelings, and your chest tightens at that thought, but you continue despite that. “You’ve been kind to me since after our first mission. And I’ve enjoyed spending time with you, including things as mundane as meal prep!” You gesture vaguely to the setting before you, hoping to get your point across. “I just randomly had the idea, and figured it couldn’t be so bad to act on it. It’s been a good distraction anyway, and what with all that happens here, a distraction does me some good.” Silence falls once more, and Sho finally turns to look at you, face flushed. He wipes his palms on his apron and worries his lip between his teeth, his gaze flickering between you and the floor. “...So what if I used up three months to grow potatoes? The time will pass anyways.” You turn away from him, looking at the washed potato. You reach for it and pick up the knife, beginning to cut it into cube chunks. 

“...I guess you’re right.” You can hear a gentle smile in Sho’s voice, and it warms you up internally, feeling thankful he’s accepted the gift. You glance towards him, giving him a smile, and catch him staring. There’s an odd glimpse of admiration in his eyes, which makes your cheeks warm.

“Go on and finish cutting the chicken.” You wave off his stare and jerk your gaze away from him, hiding your blush and focusing on the cubed potato. 

He scoffs and turns away, picking up his knife. “Giving me orders in my own kitchen, huh?” 

You don’t respond. You don’t need to. The warmth of the heaters settles into your skin and the warmth of the previous pleasant conversation settles into your heart. You glance down at the bag of potatoes that started it all. The eyes of the potatoes seem to stare up at you knowingly.

You’re carrying a short stack of to-go containers outside to Sho’s bike, Bonnie, your boots crunching the frosty path beneath you. Snow would surely be coming soon. You gently place the stack in the box on the back of Bonnie, careful to make sure none of them tip over. You hear more crunching footsteps and turn around to see Sho, carrying the rest of the boxes. He places them in the box as well and organizes them before securing the box with a few straps. He steps back and exhales, smiling to himself. You can’t help but smile at his pride.

“Now, to deliver these…” Sho approaches Bonnie and gets on, patting her twice affectionately. The gentle thrum of the engine comes to life in response. He looks to you and smiles, and you notice he’s wearing your scarf. “Sure you don’t want a ride back to the chapel?”

You eye the box of food already on the back of Bonnie and shake your head. You wouldn’t test fate today. Your eyes find your scarf again, sitting snugly around Sho’s neck. “Well, at least you have a use for it.” You say, resigned. Part of you wonders if you’ll ever get it back. 

Sho smiles, reaching up to touch the scarf. “Again, I’ll wash and return it.” He looks up to the sky, and you follow suit, noting the pale white blanket of clouds blocking the sun. “That said…” He starts, lowering his gaze to you again. “It is cold out. I may need this for longer than I expected.” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice and his smile turns crooked, as though suppressing a smirk. 

“...I’m not getting that back, am I?”

Sho shrugs, revving up Bonnie. “Who knows?” He smiles fondly at you one last time before speeding off, the wheels of Bonnie leaving tire tracks on the frosty path. You watch him as he leaves, his hair lifting in the wind, the tendrils of your scarf billowing behind him. You watch until he turns a corner and you can only faintly hear the rumbling of Bonnie’s engine. ‘I guess he really did have customers, even in this cold…’ You think to yourself, a faint smile growing on your face. You inhale the crisp cool air, feeling a bit cooler around your neck now that you’re missing a scarf. You idly look back up at the sky again, wondering if it really would snow today. Despite you enjoying the stillness of the winter air on Darkwick campus, the cold eventually bites at you, urging you to return to the chapel. Your footsteps crunch along the frosted path, following Bonnie’s tracks.

It’s Christmas evening, and things are finally winding down for the day. You’d been to Frostheim and made snow angels with Luca and Kaito, had coffee and played chess with Tohma, and Jin, despite himself, hadn’t asked you to run any errands for him today. You’d been to Vagastrom and exchanged gifts with Alan, tolerated Leo’s selfies with you, and looked around for Sho, but hadn’t found him. You’d been to Jabberwock and fed the animals with Haru, watched a romance movie with Towa, and played a holiday-themed horror game with Ren. You’d been to Sinostra and done some gambling with Taiga while Ritsu tagged along to ensure Sinostra’s reputation wasn’t damaged further, and had a surprisingly pleasant conversation with Romeo despite him saying your large coat made you resemble a slug. You’d been to Hotarubi and had tea and holiday sweets with Haku, Subaru, Zenji, and Lyca, who was visiting Subaru. You’d been to Obscuary and had Rui’s new holiday-themed drinks with Ed, chattering time away at the bar. You’d been to Mortkranken and reluctantly exchanged gifts with Yuri, aware of the fit he’d throw if you hadn’t gotten him anything, and pleasantly exchanged gifts with Jiro, reminding him to take good care of himself. 

Finally, after a very long, exhausting, and eventful day, you were back at the chapel, counting the vines growing under your skin, glowing lavender like the flower on the back of your neck. Some small flowers broke your skin and bloomed here and there, leaving the exit wounds somewhat inflamed. Granted, you didn’t have much time left, and these vines made that clear, but this holiday had been much better than you’d expected it to be. You appreciated the effort most of the ghouls put forth to make this holiday at least somewhat enjoyable for you, especially considering it may be your last. 

You sit by the fireplace in your room, watching the snow fall from the sky through your window. You had a tiny pine tree near your bed, decorated with handmade tinsel from the three Hotarubi ghouls and some small ornaments from Jin. You wore new pajamas from Romeo, though you weren’t sure how in the world he knew your size. You had a new bracelet from Taiga, who had originally forgotten who he’d gotten it for. On your nightstand lay a dreidel from Kaito and a snow globe from Luca. The hot chocolate you sipped on was a gift from Tohma, and some wine awaited you in your fridge, a gift from the Obscuary ghouls. You had a few new ugly holiday sweaters from various ghouls, Yuri and Ren included, and some not-so-ugly ones, thanks to Haru and Towa. A thick, heavy book about the origins of the laws of Japan sat on a nearby table, a gift from Ritsu that you had no plans to read. You had lit a scented candle from Leo, which you thought was surprisingly thoughtful, and had set aside the wax melts from Alan, planning to use them after the candle ran out. The new watch from Jiro was wrapped around your wrist, displaying the increasingly late time. In all of this, you wondered where your gift from Sho was. You hadn’t been able to spot him today, and the thought made you feel a little down. You’d wanted to spend some time with him today, but guessed he was probably too busy preparing Christmas dinner for all of Vagastrom and Hotarubi that he simply hadn’t had the time. You set your hot chocolate down on top of the accursed thick book and sprawl out in your chair, turning to the window again. Regardless, this had been a surprisingly wonderful holiday. The ghouls had given you gifts and willingly spent time with you, doing various fun activities and filling you with holiday cheer. It was a nice escape from the reality of your situation, even if it was only for a little while. 

You check the vines under your skin again, resisting the urge to scratch at where a new white flower had bloomed near your elbow. You could feel that, soon after the holiday season mellowed down, it would be back to reality, and you’d have to face your own death once again. Part of you dreaded the eventual change in weather and in the length of days, knowing your predicted end was growing near. But a part of you was also resigned to it. Regardless of whether you were due to die soon or not, this had been a nice holiday. And you could stand to live in the now, just this once. 

You carefully pluck the flower from your skin, wincing at the sharp pain. You bleed for only a few moments before it clots up. At least you could stave off the growth of the curse for now. 

You hear a gentle knock at your door. Physically, you’re too exhausted to have much more fun at this point, but mentally, you could use a pick-me-up. You head down your stairs towards the door, opening it crack by crack, trying to prevent too much of the cold wind from slipping inside. You peer through the open doorway, jolting in surprise when a familiar pair of dark blue eyes meet yours. 

“Hey,” Sho starts, lifting two boxes in his hands. “Thought you could use a warm holiday dinner.”

Your heart swells and all at once, a wave of emotion hits you. Sure, you didn’t have much time left, but that didn’t stop these ghouls from caring, and that was evident in the gifts piled up in your room, the fun you’d had all throughout the day, and the ghoul now standing at your doorstep, seeking more time with you. There was a reason he was your favorite. 

You swing the door open wider, unable to hide the smile that breaks across your face all at once. “I was looking for you, you know.” You cross your arms and narrow your eyes in mock disappointment. “Where’ve you been all day?”

“Cooking.” Sho lifts a brow and shrugs, tilting his head at you. He smiles fondly at you, and you notice he’s finally dressed appropriately for the season; a hat covering most of his hair, a matching coat and gloves keeping him warm, and your scarf, tucked snugly against his neck inside his coat. Yet again, you realize you are probably never getting that scarf back. 

“That scarf is still mine.” You gesture at his scarf, and he laughs, reaching up to brush the built up snow off of it. 

“And I’m still using it.” He replies, smiling wider. “So… Gonna let me in or what? It’s cold out here.” His breath puffs into white clouds, and you notice his cheeks and nose are tinged red again thanks to the cold. You smile and step aside, letting him in. 

You close the door behind him and he shakes off the snow built up on his coat. When he looks at you, his smile holds the warmth of a thousand candles and his voice holds the joy of a thousand holiday carols. “So… got any mistletoe? If not, we can start with gifts. Either works for me.” A blush covers his face as he pushes the boxes towards you, his smile growing wider and fonder.

You figure, regardless of how much time you have left, it wouldn’t hurt to spend a holiday with your favorite ghoul.

Bonus:

The gift, wrapped surprisingly delicately inside one of the boxes, is a knitted scarf in your favorite colors. It’s not bad, but you can tell it was done by a beginner. Holding it in your hands, a small smile grows on your face, and you sigh, totally resigned. 

By god, you are never getting that scarf back. 

“Well, thank you for your collateral replacement, but I expect that scarf back one day.”

Sho shakes his head, smiling as he chews on your shared meal, packed in the other box he was carrying. “No can do. It’s still cold and I still need a scarf.”

“I’m withholding the mistletoe, then.”

Sho huffs, rolling his eyes and continuing the meal. At his lack of a reaction, you purse your lips, thinking of another thing to withhold that might gift you a victory. Sho speaks, having swallowed his mouthful, “I can find other reasons to kiss you-”

“I’m withholding the potatoes.”

Sho looks at you in shock, dropping his forkful back onto his plate. “...I’ll think about it.”

Maybe you would get that scarf back, after all.

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a/n: it's done. finally it is done. finally! i've been writing this romance fic 4 a long while so im glad it is finally done

thank you all so much for reading!! as usual, i love likes, but especially comments, reblogs, and asks detailing how much you enjoyed my work!!! please feel free 2 fill up my inbox with whatever, i love talking 2 u all! but be warned my responses will be slow... im still recovering!

happy holidays 2 you all! i hope, whether you're surrounded by family, friends, or by yourself, that it's a wonderful and fulfilling holiday season 4 u. merry christmas 2 those who celebrate, and happy kwanzaa 2 those who celebrate that as well!! not very well versed in other winter holidays, but may they be joyous and merry!

[beenbaanbuun]

the ghost - opposites attract universe

in front of the fire stands a broad shouldered man dressed in furs, staring down at your rug as if it means just as much to him as it does you. you don’t recognise him as a friend of your lovers, although it’s possible that you just haven’t met this one yet. you wrack your brain for names they might have mentioned, but each one that pops up in your mind is someone you’ve met before. that means that this man is a stranger.

you want to call out to him, ask him what the fuck he was doing in your home. perhaps you’d grab yeosang’s attention at the same time; the werewolf may be just a few steps behind you, but he is surprisingly unaware of his surroundings. maybe he’d leap into action, chase the intruder out of the house. but then you blink and the man is gone, completely vanished like he’s some sort of…

ghost…

“did you just see that?” you ask yeosang, the werewolf slowly coming to a stop behind you with a strip of jerky hanging lazily between his lips. he really hasn’t been paying attention to much other than the way your hair shines prettily under the dim candles that light the home, so it’s safe to say that he has no idea what it is you’re talking about. he gives you a questioning hum as he rips the jerky with his teeth.

“see what?” his voice is muffled by the meat that he insists on chewing as he speaks. the sound of his lips smacking sends an unsatisfying shiver down your spine, and your mouth tugs into a frown.

“so i guess the answers no?” you scoff, crossing your arms in irritation, “some guard dog you are; i don’t think you’d be able to spot an intruder if he came up to you and gave you a handshake!”

yeosang doesn’t respond to your insult, merely rolling his eyes before tugging you over to jongho, the rug, to cuddle. always so dramatic, he thinks to himself as he flops onto the floor and gestures for you to join him. you do, lying straight on his chest in a way that seems to force all the air out of his lungs. normally, he’d pin you for that, holding you to the floor until you’re promising him to be more gentle through your honestly insulting giggles. though, he finds that with the lack of air in his lungs, it’s rather difficult to flip the two of you over. next time, he concludes before wrapping his tail protectively around your thigh.

a few hours later, you find yourself in the greenhouse with seonghwa, watching the graceful man tend to his plants as he hums out a pretty tune. yeosang is long gone, deciding to take some alone time after listening to you ramble about your most recent interest, book binding, for as long as he could stand to. he gave you some fake excuse of needing to ask hongjoong about something, but you aren’t quite dumb enough to believe that. especially when you watched him walk in the opposite direction of the office you knew your daddy was in.

still, you don’t really mind having your time away from your friend. it gives you the opportunity to spend time with your lovers without the grumpy mutt offering his snarky comments every few sentences.

“hey, seonghwa?” you say, voice lilting with curiosity as you push yourself up to sit on his work bench. there’s a grimace on his face as he watches your thighs press down against the dirt covered wood, the compost and debris no doubt rubbing into the material of your denim shorts. its fine, he tells himself; it’ll come out with a little manpower… hopefully.

“what is it, lamb?” seonghwa hums as he tugs his cotton gardening gloves from his hands and lays them perfectly straight on the table. his fingertips are painted with a deep shake of purple today, done by hongjoong’s fair hands just the night before. as he lays a hand on your exposed thigh, you can’t help but think that the colour looks pretty against your skin.

“do you think ghosts are real?”

the question takes seonghwa by surprise, you can see by the way his eyes go wide and his blinks slow for just a moment or two. he lets out an inquisitive hum, lips pursing slightly as he tries to think of an answer.

“well, i know they’re real,” seonghwa purrs as he gently spreads your thighs, stepping between them so he can look you in the eyes. he’s pretty from this close up—not that he isn’t always pretty—with his wide eyes twinkling and pink lips so beautifully plush. you so badly want to steal a kiss from him, but you also want to know the answer to your question. you hold back for now; there’ll be plenty of time for kissing later. “why are you asking?”

you almost tell him, but just before the words fall from your lips, you hold back. perhaps telling one of your lovers that you saw a man in their living room would be cause for concern. whilst you’re almost entirely convinced that he was a ghost, the only proof you have is that one moment he was there and the next he wasn’t. it’s very plausible that he was just really good at hiding, or maybe he was just a figment of your imagination. if either of those turn out to be the case, seonghwa will worry. you don’t want that, so you keep your theory to yourself.

“i’m just curious, hwa,” you offer him a smile, but you can tell he sees through it. he gives you a low hum, a single eyebrow cocking an question. the fake smile remains on your face, so he lets it go, understanding that he’s not going to get the truth out of you so easily.

“well, what do you want to know, my darling lamb?” he asks, using a long finger to hook some hair behind your ear, “you never know, i might just have the answers, hm?” the same hand settles on your cheek, palm cupping your face like you’re the most precious thing on earth.

you pause for a moment. what do you want to know about ghosts? you’d come to seonghwa with just the one question in mind; did they exist? he’d answered that one with ease and now you’re stuck on where to go next. realistically, you should probably focus on trying to find out whether the man in the living room was one or not; how on earth are you supposed to do that without revealing the truth?

seonghwa chuckles as he watches your expression contort onto one of concentration. it’s adorable, the way that your worry lines look between your brows. the way you tug on your bottom lip with your teeth, the white enamel now lined with the pretty pink gloss you reapplied not too long ago. if he didn’t think you looked entirely too cute like that, perhaps he’d tell you about it so you could wipe it away. for now, though, he’s happy to sit and bask in your sweetness.

“what’s so difficult about thinking up a question?” seonghwa leans forward to place a kiss to the tip of your nose when he finds that he can no longer hold himself back. the grin on his face as he pulls away is wide. “i can think of a million off the top of my head.”

you me face relaxes as he teases you. a deadpan glare is thrown in his direction, but it does nothing to faze him. he’s still watching you like you hold the world in your hands.

“like what?” you retaliate, mock annoyance laced through your tone.

“like,” he pauses for a second, pouting as he sorts through the wide array of cryptid knowledge that’s stored itself in his brain. you can practically see the lightbulb pop up above his head a few seconds later as he lands on something. “how do ghosts come into existence?”

“someone dies?” you shrug, and seonghwa lets out a chuckle.

“yes, but it’s so much more than that, lamb,” he smiles. there’s a hint of amusement in his face with the way the corners of his lips tilt up, but you ignore it in favour of looking into his adoring eyes. they’re mostly pupil, and the way the light bounces off of them causes them to shine like a hunk of whitby jet. you suck in a deep breath as you try to calm your racing heart. it almost aches with how much you love him. “if you died right now, there would have to be some sort of physical remains tying you to the real world; a lock of hair, or a splatter of blood.”

or the skin of an onikuma…

oh…

“jongho,” you mutter under your breath, suddenly feeling your chest grow tight at the realisation.

“your rug?” seonghwa tilts his head, “what about it?”

you gulp down the lump in your throat, letting it sit in your stomach as an uneasy ball of emotions instead. you don’t have the time nor energy to sift through them or unpack each of them individually. you’re so close to reaching the bottom of the mystery you’d stumbled upon; you won’t let feelings fuck it up now.

“he’s a demon,” you say, looking into seonghwa’s eyes for confirmation. he nods, “and hongjoong said demons have human forms too?”

“sometimes,” seonghwa concludes, “the onikuma… it’s probable that he disguised himself as a villager from time to time. it would’ve helped him scope his hunting ground better.”

jongho probably had a human form. that ball of emotions—is that excitement?—grows bigger.

“and if you were to kill a onikuma and, i don’t know, keep its hide as a trophy, would he come back as a ghost? do demons even have souls? do you even need a soul to be a ghost? what exactly is a soul?”

a hand slips over your racing mouth, effectively cutting your rambles short, shutting you up. seonghwa relaxedly sighs at the moment of peace.

“not even i understand the ins and outs of everything, my silly little lamb,” he snickers, a teasing smirk playing on his lips, “but i do think i understand what you’re trying to ask in your odd, roundabout way.” he pauses to slowly pull his hand away from your lips. his actions say that he trusts you to remain silent, the pace he’s going at tells you that he’s prepared to put his hand right back where it was if you start rambling again. it pleases him to see your lips sealed in a thin, annoyed line. he hums in amusement, “you know, your precious onikuma will probably come back if you call for him; ghosts like to know that the living still have a need for them.”

“you think?” you ask. seonghwa presses another short kiss to your lips, barely giving you time to close your eyes before he’s pulling away again.

“i know,” he murmurs, “now, go and talk to your bear; leave me to work in peace!”

——————————————

that’s how you end up back in the living room, cross legged on jongho’s back like you have been so many times before. the fire crackles behind you, filling the otherwise silent room with the comforting sound of burning wood. you take a deep breath through your nose, pushing it out through your mouth as you try and expel the anxiety that’s muddled itself with the excitement in your stomach.

“jongho?” you say, speaking the name given to him by you; his real name remained a mystery to you. there’s a cold blast of air behind you, and your neck twists at a whiplash pace, eyes landing on the fireplace. there’s nothing there but the white-hot logs and the flames dancing back and forth across them. it must’ve been a gust of wind down the chimney or something. nothing to frighten you at all.

you huff out a breath of relief before letting your head twist slowly back around…

“is that me?” a voice says as your eyes make contact with a pair of pupils that sit a little too close to be comfortable. you scramble back, a little squeak coming from your lips as you move away from the figure that has appeared in front of you. you come to a step just a foot or two away, chest heaving at the sudden fright the man had given you. if it weren’t for the mop of fuzzy brown hair that resembled the fur on your favourite rug a little too closely to be coincidence perhaps you’d have screamed for help. “jongho, i mean… is that my name?”

he tilts his head like a confused animal, tugging at the brown fur hide that rests upon his shoulders as if the action brings him some sort of comfort. and as you look into his eyes, you realise that he probably needs it. they’re wet, glittering with unshed tears of confusion and stress. he keeps blinking them away, but they come back almost instantly. it’s no surprise to you when the first one rolls down his cheek. he wastes no time in wiping it away.

“does that upset you?” you ask, cautiously, “that i’ve given you a name?”

he shakes his head vigorously.

“i’ve never had a name before,” he clarifies; the thought makes your chest ache. to be given a name is to be loved and this poor creature has none. no names, and therefore no love. you think for a moment about how long he’s lived with no love, but it only makes it hurt more. he was slain hundreds of years ago, and he was probably alive for hundreds more. your eyes begin to burn so you push that thought deep down inside of you. “jongho is a nice one to have as my first.”

your heart breaks for the creature. you’d have to have a talk with hongjoong later; how cruel of him to let his resident ghost go uncared for for so long.

“it is,” you try not to take notice of how strained your voice sounds, “and its yours; you’re jongho, if you’d like be.

the man nods, although the tension in his body doesn’t seem to seep away just yet. his shoulders are still hunched up by his ears, and his fingers still twirl the fur he’s wearing mindlessly. you find yourself grateful that it’s just you and him; you can’t bear to think how nervous he’d be if there was a werewolf looming over your shoulder.

“and… who are you?” he asks shyly, and you take a moment to think. within a few seconds, you settle on an answer and smile to yourself.

“a friend,” you reply.

[hunnysnoops]

Main Three + Craig with morbid/odd reader

“I want love to change my friends to enemies and tell me how it’s all my fault.”

Stan:

He lets you draw on him but instead of doodling you take a black marker and start to meticulously draw dotted lines and arrows like you’re a surgeon prepping him for cosmetic surgery.

While helping him with farm chores you go into detail about how you can compost and break down a corpse in soil, he just kinda nods along.

You give him tarot readings every week. He thought they were fake and just did it to entertain you until his week played out exactly like you said it would. When he realized he just froze up and went non verbal.

Stan- “Hey, do you have any spells to curse my dad?”

Met him when he was in his goth era.

The two of you were having a moment in the rain when you told him that he should’ve worn shoes with rubber soles in case he gets struck by lightning.

You started writing his eulogy when you were laying in bed together, bro was trying not to freak out. Just spam texted Kyle.

You’re date idea is taking him to an abandoned house.

You guys bonded over music. Now you help him write songs since you’re so used to writing poetry.

Reader- “You’re into music?”

Stan- “Yeah, I guess so.”

Reader- “Have you heard Carnival of the Animals, R. 125: Aquarium composed by Camille Saint-Saëns and performed by Philippe Entremont, Gaby Casadesus, and Yo-Yo Ma?”

Stan- “Can’t say I have.”

Kyle:

Has veiny arms so when the two of you are just chilling you’ll put your finger on one of the veins and start talking about what would happen if you severed it. He’s lowkey interested from a scientific standpoint.

You’ll straddle his hips and pull his lips back to look at his teeth, poking around in his mouth like a dentist. You’re inches apart.

Reader- “Wow, you have beautiful teeth.”

Kyle- “Thank you?”

He’s kinda fascinated by you but also repulsed by some of the things you do/say.

He came to your house and you were butchering your own meat, left right away.

You listen to The Cure together.

When you climb trees to look for birds and squirrels he’ll climb too to help you.

Will get mad annoyed after listening to you say incredibly out of pocket things while he’s trying to focus on something.

He’ll buy you little knickknacks that remind him of you.

Before he got to know you, he talked mad shit.

Sometimes gets super freaked out by your behaviour, you straight up give him the heebie-jeebies.

Reader- “So this is my collection of human teeth.”

Kyle- “All of those are yours, right?”

Reader- “Actually, none of them are mine.” 😁

Kyle- 😨

Kenny:

Sits through horror movies and weird foreign films with you. He didn’t like it at first but he came around and started sourcing out movies he’d think you like.

You took him to a Wicca ceremony and he had the time of his life.

You taught him how to make flower crowns and now he makes them all the time. He likes to give them to Karen.

When he sees something off-putting or creepy he will immediately take a picture and send it to you.

Reader- “Hey, it’s raining. Do you want to go look for earth worms and build a worm colosseum?”

Kenny- “Hell yeah.”

He likes to go for walks in the forest with you, you guys will look for bugs and pick them up or make them houses of leaves and twigs.

He’ll help you wash the skulls/bones you find.

Never really minded that you were weird, he approached you first because he thought you were hot.

He loves when you play with his hair and tie little braids into it.

You guys tried to recreate The Blair Witch Project but failed miserably when you actually got lost in the woods.

You’ll meet up at the graveyard and just sit in the grass while you talk about ghosts and ghouls. Sometimes you’ll walk around and stop at a specific grave and guess how they died.

Reader- “Would you rather be in Cannibal Holocaust or The Poughkeepsie Tapes?”

Kenny- “Erm, I gotta pick The Poughkeepsie Tapes.”

Craig:

Generally goes along with whatever you want to do.

Reader- “Can we go down to the riverbank to pickup fish heads and then eat out their eyes?”

Craig- “Yeah, sure.”

He’ll just watch you roll around in the mud or set little twig piles on fire, he won’t join in but he also won’t interfere.

You’ll talk to Stripe, not in the baby voice that people usually use to talk to animals but your tone will be dead serious like you’re talking to a grown adult.

The two of you will watch true crime documentaries together.

He’ll fuck up anyone who calls you weird or a freak.

When you’re out in public, you’ll point someone out and predict how they’re going to die.

There’s nothing you can do that’ll shock him, he’s unfazed by everything that you say.

Sometimes gets concerned with you around Stripe.

You’ll disappear for hours at a time and he’ll get worried, sending you a million texts then you’ll randomly show up at his door soaking wet or covered in dirt with no warning.

Craig- “Where have you been? You weren’t answering my texts.”

Reader- “I was meeting with a friend of mine who is alive.”

Craig- “Oh, that’s cool.”

Requests are open! I’m working through a couple right now. Thanks to the anon who requested this.

[eighttens]

Hate you! Love you! (Part 2)

Summary: so what actually happened between You and Wooyoung? Let’s rewind…. (Part two to this)

Note: Since there was quite a bit of positive feedback (and some demand for a part two), i decided to finally put pen on paper, and since my workload is decreasing a little again im hoping i can post more frequently again!! I hope you enjoy reading this half as much as the first, feel free to leave me suggestions and feedback- please dont be a silent reader!!! My requests are of course open, feel free to send me some metal compost to ruminate about!

Tagging the people who wanted a part 2::::: @taz-97 @burreorahurricane @starsfly01091711 @03jyh23

„I dont know what to do anymore..!“ San’s got his head in his hands, huffing loudly as he finally finishes his rant.

„Wasn‘t this what you wanted though? You were always complaining that they didnt get along, and now that they are you’re getting second thoughts?“ Jongho is the first to break the silence that falls over the room. As per usual, he was a little loose lipped, not afraid to speak what the rest were so obvsiously thinking.

Once a month or so, San would meet up with his former roommates, just for old times sake. During these little lunches the four of them would share what each of them had been up to lately, making up for the lost time. This also included all the updates about you and Wooyoung, the very reason that San no longer shared the apartment with them. Jongho, Seonghwa and Hongjoong were actually the reason that San ever met you and Wooyoung.

He got to know Wooyoung first, curtesy of Jongho when they had a project to work on together. Wooyoung would come over to work with Jongho in their apartment, and glances and little greetings soon blossomed into more: an offer to go gyming together, then an offer to grab coffee, then an offer to teach baking, and so on. This slow and steady approach really lead to two together naturally, growing strong together through blushy smiles and teetering glances.

You however, were a bad decision dropped right into his lap. He had heard your name from Seonghwa and Hongjoong, as they mentioned you in passing conversation every so often. He finally got to put a face to the name in one fateful night though. It was a party hosted for Seonghwa’s birthday, and of course you were invited. You, pretty little young thing, showing up at the birthday party with your tiny shirt and even tinier skirt, cheering for Seonghwa with a bottle of Tequila and a very expensive gift. Oh, you were trouble, alright?

There was nothing slow or steady about how you and San got involved one anther. No, your relationship moved at a breakneck pace, flustering him so hard and fast it gave him whiplash. You pulled him in quicker than he could fathom, having him wrapped around your lithe little fingers the moment you first spoke to him, inviting him on the balcony to share a Malbro red. You and San were fire and flame, ferociously bouncing off another with thick tension and high energy.

The contrast between the double-life he lead in terms of dating was polarizing. He was nervous to introduce the two of you to say the least. He knew that realistically there was no good way to do this, and that of course both of you would be displeased with the whole „side-piece double timing“ thing, but eventually San had to bite the bullet.

He had it planned… sorta.

He invited Wooyoung over early the day prior, taking him out to brunch, then shopping and dinner. He hoped that it would help ease the waters, make Wooyoung a little more open. Those efforts were for nought though when the two of them came back into the shared Appartement.

The two of them, Hongjoong and Seonghwa that is, had invited you over on a whim to pregame a little for a function that night. Not ideal, not ideal at all. San hadn‘t planned for you two to meet until tomorrow, when you were supposed to drop off one of the many hoodies you had conveniently „borrowed“ from San. No, this isnt at all how he had imagined this going.

Not a word had been exchanged between you and Wooyoung, yet the both of you had San figured out immediately. Hongjoong and Seonghwa, well aware of the complicated situation they had caused were quick to flee, heading out early, mumbling an excuse about „helping to set up“. Setting up my ass San thought, more than a little frustrated with the untimely manner of this meeting.

The tension between Wooyoung and you was palpable. You both had boisterous and individual perssonalities, egos big enough to kill a man, and most importantly (dangerously) a vicious sense of pride. It was only a matter of time, only a question of who would break the seal placed upon this moment. Then you would be neck and neck.

It was you who broke the silence, of course it was. „So you’re the side-piece? Didn’t know San went that way…“ your voice was too sharp, your tongue lined with silver as you snarked at Wooyoung, your head tilting to the side with passive, masked aggression.

From that moment onwards, it was nothing but poison and daggers flying hitherho between you two. San didnt know what to do, he was more than lost. Helplessly he had looked between you two, wincing at the harsh insults being carelessly thrown around.

In retrospect San should have known better than to jump in the middle of a cat-fight, especially because he was the very topic at hand. But he didnt know at the time that it was more than stupid, so he raised his voice to catch you attention and spoke: „Listen! I know this is-„

He didnt even get to finish his sentence before there was a rare moment of union between Wooyoung and you when both of you snapped „Shut up!“.

A moment of silence fell over the dorm again, and Wooyoung and your eyes met, wide with bewilderment. The moment was short (but sweet, San thought) before you and Wooyoung both turnt up your noses, brushing past another as you stormed out the door to follow Seonghwa and Hongjoong whilst Wooyoung stomped into the kitchen.

From then on it was always one of two situations when you and Wooyoung met: a clash filled with hateful words and hurt feelings, or dead, uncomfortable silence. No in-between, no hope of improvements.

Pulling himself out of the memory, and the following months, San looks at the deadpan faces of his former roommate. „You said you’d do anything for them to get along…“ San would like to agree with Jongho, but he just shakes his head ferociously. Seonghwa and Hongjoong share a look as they try to assess the situation appropriately.

„What changed, then?“ Seonghwa‘s voice is careful, trying his best to figure out a possible red string to connect all the pieces San had been laying out, „What’s bad about them getting along?“

„Well I mean yes it’s wonderful that they get along, sure! But-„ San stops himself, biting his tongue as he considers whether or not to say it out loud. „Oh what now San? You really cant hit us with the TMI, we know too much about you already, there’s no shred of dignity left for you to destroy anyway.“ Hongjoong speaks up, finally calling for some literal clarity.

„But not when they’re at it like Rabbits!“ San hisses, slightly embarrassed as he feels his face warm dangerously. Hongjoong and Jongho burst out laughing and Seonghwa covers his face to hide the way that his jaw dropped. „Oh my god San!“

San groans, hands falling into his face as he leans back in the chair. „Im so fucked you guys have no idea!“ Jongho, the little shit, only laughs louder, „I thought the problem is that you aren’t!“

[turtlesandfrogs]

Started the day by reading this article from the NY times, and I'm frankly, disturbed.

Some highlights:

"For decades, farmers across America have been encouraged by the federal government to spread municipal sewage on millions of acres of farmland as fertilizer. It was rich in nutrients, and it helped keep the sludge out of landfills."

Which I knew, and I knew that there were concerns about contaminants from like, the medications people were on. But human waste is part of the nutrient cycle, and it always made sense to me that it should be throughly composted and returned to agricultural lands, and I assumed that people in general were taking the steps necessary to make it safe.

But here's what I didn't know:

"The 1972 Clean Water Act had required industrial plants to start sending their wastewater to treatment plants instead of releasing it into rivers and streams, which was a win for the environment but also produced vast new quantities of sludge that had to go somewhere."

Which, yay, no longer polluting bodies of water, but now that means we're applying industrial waste water to agricultural lands. And have been since 1972. Which leads to this situation, among many others, I'm sure:

"The sludge that allegedly contaminated the Colemans’ farm came from the City of Fort Worth water district, which treats sewage from more than 1.2 million people, city records show. Its facility also accepts effluent from industries including aerospace, defense, oil and gas, and auto manufacturing. Synagro takes the sludge and treats it (though not for PFAS, as it’s not required by law) then distributes it as fertilizer."

So here's what some states are doing:

"In Michigan, among the first states to investigate the chemicals in sludge fertilizer, officials shut down one farm where tests found particularly high concentrations in the soil and in cattle that grazed on the land. This year, the state prohibited the property from ever again being used for agriculture. Michigan hasn’t conducted widespread testing at other farms, partly out of concern for the economic effects on its agriculture industry.

In 2022, Maine banned the use of sewage sludge on agricultural fields. It was the first state to do so and is the only state to systematically test farms for the chemicals. Investigators have found contamination on at least 68 of the more than 100 farms checked so far, with some 1,000 sites still to be tested.

“Investigating PFAS is like opening Pandora’s box,” said Nancy McBrady, deputy commissioner of Maine’s Department of Agriculture."

This is fun:

"The E.P.A. is currently studying the risks posed by PFAS in sludge fertilizer (which the industry calls biosolids) to determine if new rules are necessary.

The agency continues to promote its use on cropland, though elsewhere it has started to take action. In April, it ordered utilities to slash PFAS levels in drinking water to near zero and designated two types of the chemical as hazardous substances that must be cleaned up by polluters. The agency now says there is no safe level of PFAS for humans...

It’s difficult to know how much fertilizer sludge is used nationwide, and E.P.A. data is incomplete. The fertilizer industry says more than 2 million dry tons were used on 4.6 million acres of farmland in 2018. And it estimates that farmers have obtained permits to use sewage sludge on nearly 70 million acres, or about a fifth of all U.S. agricultural land."

There's more, but I wanted to condense it at least a little bit. I am glad we're raising awareness, and I'm glad we're starting to regular the amount in our drinking water, and I hope that we'll find a way to actually deal with PFAS. I am so frustrated that people are exposed in the first place, and in nigh inescapable ways.

Also, to all those people who were like, oh, organic isn't at all healthier for consumers? Guess what the organic standards don't allow to be applied?

[hocuspocusbabyy]

Mary Jane - Calex

‘What if Alex and Casey were neighbours in a small town’

I feel like the Alex Cabot girlies need some more trope shit. So here I am, instead of writing my long fics. Again.

Alex working as a state social worker in Texas > Casey is bail bondsperson.

They both live in a trailer park, Alex has wind-chimes and assorted pots outside > Casey likes to put her cigarettes in them to ‘compost’.

Alex finds Casey rude, she’s always throwing parties, cook outs. Her family aren’t exactly the sort Alex was used to.

Alex watches Casey hit baseballs for her dog each night.

Casey watching Alex leave for work in her form fitting suits and Atleast three tote bags every morning > drinking her morning coffee, yet still manages to throw in a wolf whistle. Which Alex hates to admit she loves, sticking her middle fingers up.

Casey’s dog unfortunately loves Alex and will often be found sleeping on the rug when she leave her trailer door open in the sun.

Alex buys him, his own bowl for when he visits.

Casey has two single mismatched deck chairs outside her trailer, one that just so happens to make it onto Alex’s porch steps. Alex likes to work on case files in the open air.

Casey will often come trudging up the gravel from her bike with a fat lip or blackened eye. Alex working to the sound of crickets and a flash light catches Casey’s attention.

Alex offers to clean Casey up one night > she’s noticed Casey doesn’t look after herself much. Always wearing sunglasses to shield her eyes but never hiding the marks that littered her arms as she slouched around in marked vests and wangler jeans. Bruises visible despite her many tattoos.

They each have no decency > Alex will sunbathe on the porch and Casey will walk around shirtless.

Casey takes to calling Alex her ‘firefly.’

Casey starts sitting out at night with Alex, when she’s not away working. She notices one night that Alex has a tramp stamp > it’s a Korean decal from Alex’s summers with a working father.

Alex later teaches Casey how to drink soju < Casey teaches Alex how to open a bottle with her teeth.

Casey starts helping Alex with her case work, offering her insight into the youth as it’s where she’d grown up - unlike Alex who only moved her to prove a point to her dad.

Casey wears chunky silver rings. Alex likes to steal them and see the size difference.

Alex loves watching people from in the community come to Casey for help > putting up guttering, fixing a kids bikes. Alex even ends up helping make costumes for the local school that Casey coaches at.

They’re in love.

Alex eventually convincing Casey to resit her highschool diploma > Casey likes to wear Alex’s glasses when they are ‘studying’. < She refuses to get her own.

Casey gets Alex high for the first time since she was a teenager.

Casey drives Alex everyday so she can avoid the bus. Alex has her own helmet they found in a local charity shop.

Casey finding out Alex is actually rich and being wildly confused > their first proper fight is when Alex’s grandmother sends for her to attend a boat party.

Casey grumbling because Alex had ‘lied to her’.

Some disgruntled parents from one of Alex’s caseloads show up and put the windows through on her trailer.

Casey scares them off and cleans up > that’s how Alex finds her, hunched over sweeping up glass. The blonde with her heels in her hand as the redhead yells at her to mind her feet.

Casey making Alex take a shower, get out of her silk gown whilst she delt with the police > she has friends on the force, they’ll be round tomorrow.

Casey comforting Alex as she spirals. Tired of fighting for people who don’t respect her or their children. Alex asks to stay in Casey’s trailer that night.

Alex finally kissing Casey at her trailer door > Casey had walked her the four steps between their homes.

The night is dry and they can hear foxes and wildlife around them. Alex used to hate how quiet it was when she moved > she now has four dead bolts on her door she doesn’t use… not since Casey started looking out for her.

Alex slowly crawling into Casey’s bed, pleasantly surprised by the light bed sheets. Casey owns a lot of things… there’s post cards and photos on every surface.

Casey slipping in beside her, large arms circling Alex’s neck > Alex who simply burrows into the hold happily kissing the other woman’s arms, tracing her tattoo as they fight sleep.

Casey has a blue ‘A’ sewn into the inside of her leather jacket > Alex put it there, whilst ‘mending’ her jeans.

Alex starts coming to Casey’s cook outs > she is not allowed near the kitchen.

Casey’s family love Alex > she is now seen round town talking to massive bikers constantly.

They are a regulars at the local diner > Often walking there in the mornings. Casey picks up the bike whilst Alex finishes the paper.

They are happy.

Alex learns to roll for Casey.

Alex settles as a private advocate for people who need legal aid outside of the system. Casey surprised her with a tiny upper level office in town for their anniversary.

They combine trailers > really why get rid of the space?

Alex cuts Casey’s hair on the decking outside the trailer.

Alex surprises Casey by getting her name tattooed > it’s behind her ear.

Alex wears Casey’s jacket more than Casey and Casey wears Alex’s glasses when reading in bed every night. The dog sleeps at the bottom at Alex’s insistsnce.

Casey wakes up most mornings to Alex snuggled away with the dog.

Casey asks Alex to marry her after they attend an event in town. They’re walking down by the docks.

Alex wears her ring as a necklace so she can still garden > Casey has started digging her flower beds. < or she would have lost it by now.

Casey leaves Alex sticky notes whenever she’s called away for work. She calls every time she sees a phone booth.

Alex still cleans up Casey’s cuts > Casey still cat calls her each morning.

Casey quit smoking but Alex will still sneak a joint with her now and then.

Casey always has a hand on Alex. On her thigh, wrapped round her waist as they have a weekly cards night with friends.

Alex happily marks Casey for all to see > she’s seen how people look at her at the local bar.

They’re happy and in love.

[practicalsolarpunk]

Hi, I've only just got into solarpunk and find it really cool.

I was wondering, what sort of simple lifestyle changes would you suggest to start with when trying to live in a more solarpunk/sustainable way?

Hi! So glad you're getting into solarpunk! We think it's pretty cool, too, and we're happy you're looking for ways to integrate it into your life. Since you haven't included anything specific about your situation or what you're interested in, this list is pretty general - if you want more specific ideas, feel free to send in another ask!

In the meantime, here are a few recommendations for getting started:

Grow something. Depending on your situation, you may not be able to put in a huge outdoor garden. But there are many plants that will be perfectly happy in a pot on a windowsill, and still others that are happy to grow in low-light situations. Find something that works for your space and get some hands-on experience with growing things. (If you have a window, I highly recommend herbs - many of them are happy in pots and there's something incredibly satisfying about eating things you've grown.)

Compost. Unless your space is extremely tiny, you probably have room for a small composting system. Some can even go under a sink or in a closet. See this post for a general discussion, this post for vermicomposting ideas, and this one for info on bokashi composting. Also check out our #compost tag.

Mending. Mending is a great skill to have. The life of most clothing (and a lot of non-clothing fabric items) can be extended dramatically with some basic sewing skills. I've made entire dresses and quilts and I still find most of my sewing is repairing and mending other stuff. We have a mending tag, but I also love YouTube for this. Searching "how to mend X" (e.g. "how to mend hole in crotch of jeans") gives you a bunch of awesome tutorials. You can get even more use out of things if you're willing to embrace visible mending.

Reduce energy use. Try to use natural light where you can. Set your thermostat high in summer and low in winter and use the principle "heat/cool the person, not the space." Flush the toliet with graywater by removing the p-trap from your sink and dumping the collected wash water into your toilet tank (or directly into the bowl if you have an American-style greedy cup siphon toilet). Experiment with solar energy. What you can do depends on your situation, but see what kind of options you have.

Integrate the 7 R's: There are more R's to sustainable living than just "Reduce Reuse Recycle". See this post for a primer.

Build community: One of the foundations of solarpunk is that it's about community. Even if you start out doing it by yourself, eventually you need a community to do bigger things. My favorite way to start is by meeting the neighbors. Taking over some food (cookies are great) and introducing yourself is a great way to open a relationship. We also have a community building tag for more ideas.

You can find even more ideas in these tags, depending on what you specifically want to do:

#apartment solarpunk

#dorms and small spaces

#community building

#activism

#fiber crafts

#diy

There's also some additional tips in this post and this post, which are earlier responses to similar asks.

I hope this helps! Followers, feel free to chime in with your best tips!

- Mod J

[block-tales-headcanons]

ive cooked a couple griefer body horror headcanons but i forgot to send em here so have some normal Griefer headcanons instead

-ignoring the pile of cans in his room Griefer actually eats healthy! 3 balanced meals a day! And a couple snacks (mostly fruits) throughout the day! That jackfruit outside his crib was actually his! It was something he was saving for another time

-even if he has his own set up at his crib he's a regular to Turitopolis' pisonet cafe, tixnet cafe?? Roblox equivalent of it?? mostly due to it having faster lan, it lets him pwn noobs better 😎

-some ppl be questioning "how is he not over heating in that jacket??? He's in the jungle bruh" The answer is it's actually thin, like, its light-wear, it's not a bad quality clothing (its good quality btw!) but its like, deceptively warm looking, you'd think this jacket of his would help him visiting Blackrock but it's really not gonna do anything. (A lot of the jackets in Turitopolis are like that)

-he wears it btw because 1. It looks cool 2. It covers and protects his arms from the sun and bugs 3. It looks cool

-conflicted on him smelling really bad (it just makes sense) or him actually taking frequent baths (because he would HATE bugs). Unfortunately after post bubonification he has a constant flower scents bugs LOVE

-have i talked about how he gained a taste for The Special before. He has gained a taste for The Specials. If anything i think he would also just eat compost. Hell, even dirt, he could even tell the quality of the dirt jsut from the taste. Y'know how if you eat Compost in battle it doesnt do anything? Hc that it works as a healing item for Griefer. Shove dirt in his mouth hell yeah

✦Jam anon

mf doesn’t touch grass but also touches it at the same time

[hymen-restoration-project]

bethany my roommates are women but they also drive me absolutely bonkers my stealing my dishes to feed their cats and leaving their shoes on the kitchen table and composting directly on the kitchen counter. can you send help? and is it going against the feminarchy if i as a fellow woman take revenge on these women?

They are your equals and they deserve your wrath

[guillotinesandroses]

Washed Ashore; Chapter 9 - Not Tripping

Platonic Sonic Boom x Ex-Villain!Reader.

Washed Ashore Masterlist

You, Sonic and Tails speed through an obstacle course in the depths of the jungle. Sonic and Tails are taking this seriously while you are left lagging behind. Although you do have every intention of keeping up with them, you play it safe for now not to crash and break your board again. 

"You may be faster on foot, but I invented these things!" Tails flips ahead of Sonic. 

"Not bad. My turn!" Sonic copies his trick. However, as he looks back smugly, he crashes into a branch and is sent flying into several trees. 

Tails runs to check up on him and you follow suit. The fox is strangely impressed by the faceplants his role model made. "Wow, that was the coolest thing I've ever seen!" 

"Really?" 

"You look cool even when you're making a fool out of yourself!" 

"Well, people have many opinions on that matter." Your eyes trail the treetops as if you did not say anything. Sonic sends a glare your way as he pulls a stick out of his spikes, but gets distracted by yelling. 

All three of you sneak behind a bush. In a nearby village, masked bandits force the villagers to hand over their belongings. "Woah, we gotta stop those jerks!" 

Sonic wastes no time speeding up to the scene. "What's going on here?" 

"Oh, these delightful young men were just ransacking our poor village and taking all of our possessions!" The chief explains with a cheery tone. 

"They probably need them more than we do, being bandits living on the run and all," a woman explains gently. 

"Yeah, so back of, blue guy! This is what we do." 

"Oh, yeah? Well, this is what we do!" Sonic knocks him to the ground. You join up with him to deal with the rest of the bandits. Tails throws out a rope for you to tie them up with, which you toss to Sonic. He wastes no time wrapping the thieves up. 

"This isn't over!" The bandit leader yells before Sonic sends him flying. "I spoke too soon!" 

"Thank you, strange travelers!" The chief exclaims. "You have saved us gogobas from the scourge of weasel bandits! And scattered all our belongings carelessly across the dirt!" 

"Sorry, I'll help pick them up!" Tails does not get the chance to bend down properly before he is cut off. 

"Oh, no, we wouldn't want to trouble you. I'll do it myself. It probably won't cause my chronic backpain to flare up too much." She tries to lean down, pain flares up. 

"Well, that's good to hear!" You smile, blissfully unaware of her suffering. 

"Oh, don't worry about her. She'll pass out from the pain soon," the chief reassures, "In the meantime, the rest of us will throw our valiant heroes a victory feast!" 

"Thanks but we really gotta-" Sonic gets cut off once again. 

"Oh, it's okay. We know how busy you are. In a few months, this'll turn into compost and we'll be able to grow new food to eat!" 

"What a beautifully positive way of thinking!" You clasp your hands together. Something about this place reminds you of home in a strange way, of the people who bothered to talk to you without throwing insults around all the time. 

"Well... I guess we could stay for a quick bite." Sonic yields. 

"Wonderful!" The chief smiles. In moments, a table laid out with a large collection of fruits is set up. All three of you are made to sit around the table, but the villagers do not take even a single bite. They only stare intently as you all eat. 

Uncomfortable with the staring, Sonic asks, "aren't you guys gonna eat?" 

"Oh, no! We'd much rather watch you enjoy your food!" 

"That's the only nourishment we need." Her stomach growls. "That was a rumble of joy." 

"How generous!" You bite into another delicious fruit. 

Tails eats one as well, although a bit reluctantly. "These gogobas are so nice!" 

"Yeah, so... why do I feel so terrible?" Sonic questions. 

"I don't get what you're saying." You blink. "I feel just fine, why wouldn't you?" 

"We gotta get out of here," Tails states. After a while, all of you are full and more than ready to leave. 

Sonic is the one to try to negotiate for freedom. "That was really delicious. We love, love, loved it! But we should probably get going." 

"Of course, of course, why would you wanna stay with us after we made you this incredible meal?" The chief steps in front of him. 

"No, we do wanna stay! It's just-" 

"Wonderful! Allow us to prepare your accommodations." 

All three of you are suddenly carried onto a spacious bed. Four villagers fan you with giant leaves and you sigh in contentment. One of the very few things you missed from back home was moments like these, the handful of times your role as a guardian was even somewhat appreciated. 

"Fetch our new friends the finest, softest blankets in the village." 

"Maybe this won't be so bad?" 

"The children in the nursery can huddle together for warmth!" 

Sonic groans in despair. 

"Wow, it's amazing that the heating is good they don't need blankets," you whisper, "this village is really advanced!" 

"I don't think that's it, (Name)," Tails mumbles. 

However, all of you remain in the bed until nightfall. As darkness stretches over the forest, the villagers retreat into their homes. Sonic glances around, then gets into action. "Hey, the gogobas are finally gone. Let's sneak out of here." 

One by one you get up and make it near the edge of the forest. The escape attempt is swiftly interrupted. "Can we get you something?" 

"Woah, uh... where did you come from? We thought everyone was sleep." 

"How could we sleep when we've got guests to take care of?" 

"We... really should be on our way." Tails glances around nervously. 

"Go, go! We'll be fine!" 

"Until the next inevitable bandit attack." A villagers sighs. 

"It's okay, just promise someday you'll come to visit." 

"The smoking crater where our village used to be." 

You clasp your hands together, what a wonderful and familiar way of saying goodbye. "Oh, we certainly will! Be well, see you soon!" 

Your friends look at you a little weird but follow you as you walk past the villagers. The gogobas stare at you even more intently, as if your entire existence confuses them. For a moment it seems as if they are actually letting you leave. 

"Wait!" Your group comes to a halt at a villagers frantic voice. "I got heirloom tomatoes and some really nice pastrami. I'll pack you sandwiches." 

"Aw, how considerate!" Their never-ending kindness is almost making you sound like Amy. Wow, how nice it is to be taken care of! 

"Tails, these guys are nuts!" Sonic whisper-yells. 

"We've gotta get out of here!" 

"But how? We're stuck here as long as there's a threat from those bandits!" 

"That's it! If we can create a defense system for the village, the gogobas will be safe and we can leave!" 

"Yeah, but what if I'm right and they're just nuts?" 

"That is a chance I'm willing to take." 

"I don't get it. Why can't we just walk home? These people are nice, I'm sure they'll understand." 

"(Name), don't you see what they are doing?" Tails squeaks. 

"What do you mean by that?" 

"Ugh, there's no time for you of all people to start acting clueless! C'mon, let's get to work!" Sonic speeds off. 

Although you are unsure what your friends mean, you join them in building the defense system. Cages are set-up in the trees, booby traps and holes in the ground all over the place. Tails and Sonic are proud of the result, relief on their faces it gets completed. Sonic then announces, "Gogoba village, allow me to present your new state of the art defense system!" 

"You no longer need us to protect you from invaders! And the best part is, it's totally foolproof!" Tails exclaims. 

"Goodbye, friends!" Sonic waves and turns around. You can barely take a step forward before the alarms blare and dozends of traps get set off. 

"Oh, come on!" Sonic whips around in frustration. 

"Seriously?" Tails frowns. 

"I'm so sorry, I wish I had a better excuse, but it's hard to concentrate while all the blood is rushing to my head!" 

"We'll just hang here until we go numb." 

"Then our bodies will reflect our emotional states!" 

"We can totally fight Eggman or bandits, but how do we fight guilt?" Tails whispers after the villagers have been let down from the trees. 

You blink. "What guilt?" 

"With more guilt! Follow my lead!" Sonic gets an idea and drags both of you to the village leader. 

"Hey, uh, chief, it's been great and all but we have to go now." 

"But we haven't finished stitching our friendship quilt!" At these words, the battle begins, at least the atmosphere is that of a battle. The chief and Sonic go back and forth, Tails backing up his friend. Their confusing match goes on for a while until the chief finally yields. You remain confused by the events and try to ask Tails and Sonic about it. 

"So, what was the deal with all that happened back there?" 

"(Name), we were clearly being guilt-tripped," Tails says. 

"Huh? Really? No, we weren't." 

"Yes, really, we were, how did you not notice?" Sonic raises a brow. 

"I... just thought they had a weird sense of humor." 

"Wow, I wouldn't have taken you for the oblivious type." 

"I'm not oblivious!" You scoff. "People at my home island talked like that all the time!" 

"Wow, your people sound insufferable." 

"Well... yeah, they were, that's why I- oh. Oh, now I know what you mean. Oh, that makes too much sense..." you trail off and zone out. 

"Did everyone on your island act that way?" Tails asks. 

"Not all of them. Most of them were just plain rude or passive-aggressive. The... nice ones talked like that." 

A small silence settles over the shore where you walk. Sonic breaks it but doesn't find much to say. "...Wow." 

You bite the inside of your cheek, then shrug. "Oh well, I guess I just gotta read up on the definition of guilt-tripping. There's nothing more to it." 

"I don't know, I think your obliviousness to what they were trying to do actually helped you this time!" Tails smiles. 

"Did it?" 

"Yeah, I thought you were doing it on purpose! I was kinda jealous of how unnafected you were, to be honest." Sonic chuckles. 

"Hm... so, I suppose it has some advantages then," you mumble thoughtfully, "even so, I should still work on my empathy. I find it difficult to tell with these things sometimes." 

"That's fine, as long as you try your best!" Tails reassures. 

"Sure, but telling a guy with a broken arm to 'suck it up and get over it' because you gave him a chocolate bar probably isn't the right call either."��

"That was on my third hero mission... You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?" You deflate at the memory. 

"Nope, never!" Sonic grins. 

After that, you part ways with the two. Perhaps it is a little cruel, but you saw the gogobas inside Sonic's shack through a window and did not feel like dealing with a round two. What you do feel like doing, however, is taking a nice long bubble bath. Then, you will dig up your old dictionary, study all the words and write some notes on this new term you learned, 'guilt-tripping'. Never will you get confused by an unfamiliar concept again! 

[ariaste]

From Lord Nicolau Lyford to Yearning at Yuletide, greetings. Apologies for the lateness of my reply, as I was occupied with my own seasonal rituals and celebrations! I know that it can be very hard to live with a great longing, but the Lady of Abundance has always comforted me with the reminder that just because you do not have what you want NOW does not mean that you will never have it in the future. Some seeds take time to sprout; some trees take years to bear fruit. Now, that said—yes, my own inclination is toward steadfast patience. I am the sort of man who will continue tenderly looking after a garden plot even if it seems like it is barren. But there are other tools, ones which I am less good at, which are nevertheless valuable: Sometimes, a plot does not need tending, it needs to be entirely dug up and its soil amended with compost and manure. Sometimes a tree needs to be vigorously pruned back. Sometimes the seeds you’ve planted are entirely wrong for the climate, or they get washed out by the rain, and there is nothing for it but to write it off as a loss and try something else. Sometimes the Lady of Abundance answers our prayers, but sometimes she sends a different gift, one that we didn’t know we needed—one we might not even recognize if we weren’t looking for it. But at the end of the day, regardless of prayers or gifts, yearning is a season of its own, and one day it will pass into a new season. I hope that helps! Best wishes, Lord Lyford * Are you a fan of my books? Do you have a burning question and you've always wanted to ask a fictional character for advice? Send it in via the "Dear Blorbo" Advice Column submission form! :) All questions welcome.

[haveatthee83]

Under My Skin (Monkey D. Luffy/Reader) 2/7

Inspo: Under My Skin by Jukebox the Ghost

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Word Count: ~4.5k

Warnings: Angst, arguing, cursing, angry Luffy, discussion of death and dead relatives, brief descriptions of violence.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You rose with the sun, kicking off your covers and rolling out your back. You peeked out of the window, the sandstorm still raged on outside. You huffed and frowned hoping it would let up soon. You had plenty of chores to do outside to set up for you leaving, animals that you needed to find care for.

You pushed those worries to the side, pushing yourself up and padding to the bathroom, quickly washing your face and brushing your teeth, speeding through your morning routine.

You then crept down one door, slipping into your bedroom, not waking the sleeping Nami before digging through your dresser for clothes for the day, quickly changing into a new cropped tank top and jean shorts before creeping back out the door and into the kitchen.

You marveled at the spotless counters and floors, seemingly scrubbed clean. You couldn’t be impressed for long though, rushing to work. You grabbed out two of your chickens’ eggs out of your fridge, heaving them onto your counter, before grabbing a large bowl out of one of your cabinets. You grabbed a knife and a whisk, washing your hands before returning to work.

You hummed to yourself as you picked up one egg, slapping your knife onto the hard shell a few times, setting the knife down and pulling the shell apart when the crack was big enough. You tossed the shell into the compost before doing the same with the second egg. The bowl was almost full as you stuck in the whisk, breaking the yolks before whisking carefully. When the eggs were thoroughly combined, you grabbed your four burner pan, setting it onto your stove and turning all of the burners on low, blowing out a little flame to light the gas.

You reached back into your fridge and just plopped a whole stick of butter from your neighbor’s cow into the rapidly heating up pan. You carefully picked up the large bowl, pouring the egg into the massive pan as soon as the butter melted. When the bowl was empty you set all your dishes into the sink, washing any egg residue off of your hands before turning back to the pan, the bottom of the eggs barely solidifying, and shook heaping servings of salt, pepper, garlic, and crushed, dried cayenne from your green house into the eggs, ‘not enough to burn’ you thought with a smile, ‘just enough to warm the mouth and soul a bit’ recalling your uncle’s seasoning mantra. ‘Clears out your sinuses’ he’d insist. Besides, you didn’t know how well these pirates could handle their spice, so reserved would have to do for now.

You grabbed a spatula and folded the eggs in the pan, keeping the eggs moving so none of it would brown or burn. When the eggs were looking like they were in a good spot, you turned on your oven and put it very low, just enough to keep food warm, helping it along with a little huff of your flames before setting the pan of cooked egg into it.

You then grabbed out two more large pans, two burners this time, and started to heat them up, moving back to your fridge, grabbing out pack after pack of bacon and breakfast sausage, setting them into their respective pans. As you let them sizzle you easily slid over and grabbed out five four slice toasters, plugging them in and setting slices of homemade sourdough bread into each slot, easily burning through a loaf, sending them down with a click. You rolled over to the pans with popping and browning breakfast meats, reaching to the side and sprinkling brown sugar over the bacon, letting it set in and cook with it. When they were both done, you opened the oven again and slid both of them into it, on the top rack. You had one more rack left to keep food warm, which made you think, should you make more?

You mulled it over, closing the oven up and looking around your kitchen, eyes landing on your massive box of quick grits. You grinned and grabbed out your other four burner pan, getting right to work, quickly boiling water, adding milk, butter and the grits as needed. You let that bubble and simmer, stirring constantly to make sure none of it stuck to the bottom or sides.

When it was ready, you heard all of the toasters pop up in a line, making you smile. You grabbed the grits and slid them into the oven as well, closing it, turning off the stove, and going back to the toast. You grabbed out a large plate, a new stick of butter, and a butter spreader. The butter was solid and cold, so you held it in your hands, gently warning them up, just enough to soften it. You got right to work, grabbing out each piece of toast, buttering it and adding it to your ever-growing stack. When all of the toast was buttered, you sliced the stack down the middle, setting it up in smaller stacks along the plate, setting it up on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room, where you’d put the rest of the food when the pirates were awake, which would be soon. You knew that cook couldn’t stay asleep too long.

Next you opened your fridge and grabbed out an armful of fruit, setting it onto the counter before grabbing your favorite fruit knife and a large cutting board you’d also use to serve the fruit up on. You made quick work of the variety if fruits in front of you. You wanted to make sure the pirates got plenty of vitamins, always wary of scurvy. You sliced up Mango, oranges, melons, bananas and your island’s native fruit. No one really had a set name for it, but it tasted like if pineapples and peaches had a baby, but it looks like a cantaloupe that grows in a tree.

After the fruit was all prepared, you set it up onto the counter, turning back to your fridge and grabbing out your pitchers of orange juice and milk, setting them up as well all alongside cups, and plates with forks and spoons, none of which matched, of course. You sighed, taking in your work with a nod before taking out the food from the oven, switching it off. You looked at the clock on your mantle in the living room and sighed, why aren’t they up yet?

Frowning, you thought it over but relented to your impatience, not wanting the food to get cold. You grabbed out a wooden spoon and moved to the side of your fridge, looking right down the hallway, “WAKE UP! BREAKFAST TIME! EAT IT NOW OR GO HUNGRY!” you shouted at the top of your lungs, smacking the spoon against the side of your fridge with a smile.

You heard thumps and muttering in the rooms with the Straw-Hats, content that they were awake, so you put back your spoon and got to work washing the dishes in the sink. You heard two sets of feet eagerly sprinting down the short hallway, Zoro and Sanji being the first ones in the kitchen, bickering the whole way, “Eat up, boys. Take as much as you want.” You said, jerking your head over to the large spread of food.

“Don’t have to tell me twice, Luffy’s not up yet.” Zoro muttered, rushing to fill his plate with a little bit of everything.

Sanji looked over the spread with intrigue, “How many eggs did you use?” he asked, noting the massive portion.

You shrugged, laying the last dish on the drying rack, turning to the cook, drying off your hands with your towel, “Just two. No biggie.”

Sanji’s brain short circuited for a moment, eyes flitting between you and the fluffy eggs, “Two? How?”

You chuckled at the blond’s exasperated face, “We have giant animals on this island, remember? I talked about it during the tour. I was going to show you mine, but the sandstorm kicked that plan to the curb.” You explained, opening your fridge up and pointing to your one remaining egg, easily double the size of an ostrich egg. “I own three six-foot-tall chickens you can ride, and my neighbor has two cows the size of my house, and we’re famous for our massive wild boars! They’re huge and really mean, they’re a pain in the ass to kill, but they’re damned tasty. All that bacon and sausage wasn’t even a fraction of what came from that pig.”

Sanji’s mind whirred with possibilities, ‘That might keep up with Luffy’s massive appetite.’  He thought, obliging as you ushered him to go and eat.

Nami came in next, ready for the day, but still bleary eyed and half awake. You laughed quietly at her predicament, “Should I put on a pot of coffee?” the ginger nodded, yawning as she went to fix herself a plate.

“Damn, this looks good.” She muttered, piling her plate high. You shook your head and turned to make a quick pot of coffee, “Got any sugar for the grits?” she asked.

You nodded, grabbing two cannisters from the side of the stove, resting them on a small sliver of space you found on the counter, “This one’s white sugar, this one’s brown sugar.” You showed her, opening and closing each before turning back to your work on the coffee.

Usopp, Robin, and Chopper all filed in next, stretching and yawning. They all grabbed their plates and ushered themselves to their previously claimed seats in your living room. You glanced into the room with a smile, a warm feeling settling in your chest at having a full house again, even if it’s smaller than before. “Who wants coffee?” you chimed, noting all of their hands raised besides Chopper and nodded, “Do you think Luffy will want any?” the whole crew shook their head with quiet giggles. You took that in with a smile, grabbing out five mugs out of the cabinet, filling each with the hot coffee, leaving a bit of room for cream and sugar in each, just in case. You grabbed three in one hand and two in the other, putting them onto the coffee table with a smile before rushing back to the fridge to grab out a small pitcher of cream and your canister of sugar, setting them by the mugs.

A chorus of thank you’s and happy sighs resounded around you. “Aren’t you eating?” Robin asked, adding a spoon of sugar into her mug.

“Yeah!” you exclaimed, looking around you, “I’m just used to making sure everyone else has their plates before I do.”

Zoro snorted a laugh, biting into a sausage link, “You better cut that out with Luffy around.” He snickered. “That man could eat a whole fleet of ships and ask for ice cream after.”

The crew all snickered and giggled in agreement, Nami urging you to grab yourself a plate, “He’ll grab his soon.”

So, you got to work, piling your plate with all of your favorites, fixing up your grits and grabbing a glass and filling it with orange juice before joining Nami again on the loveseat. Right as you started to tuck in, the sound of a slow patter of feet brought all of your attention back to the kitchen. Luffy was awake.

His eyes scanned the large expanse of food in front of him, just going ahead and devouring the food that was left at the counter, making you laugh a bit. Luffy didn’t notice or care, digging into the feast with sparkles in his eyes.

“That’s what he’s usually like.” Nami whispered in your ear.

Sanji scowled, “Aren’t you going to say thank you for breakfast?” he barked, making the captain pause, swallowing the mouthful he was working on.

“Thank you, Sanji! It’s really good. You should make breakfast like this more often; I don’t know what you did different.” He chimed, digging right back into his food.

Sanji went to correct him, but you stopped him, frantically waving at him, ‘NO!’ ‘LEAVE IT!’ ‘IT’S OKAY!’

Sanji frowned deeper and shook his head, calling out to his captain, surely this would make him like you a bit, maybe help him loosen up around you, “I can’t take any credit.”

“Shut up, Sanji!” you hissed quietly, your face heating up in embarrassment, and you tried to hide your face in your hat, holding your hands over your face, your plate in your lap.

“Our beautiful host got up early and made all of this.” He said resolutely, taking another bite of the delicious food with a smile.

Luffy paused, eyes darting to where you hid, Nami trying to reassure you, and set his jaw. Of course you could cook. Of course, Luffy liked it. ‘Of course.’ He thought bitterly, resuming his eating with a frown, swearing it tasted a bit sour now that he knew.

Zoro reached over and kicked Sanji’s foot, and when the blond whirled on him, Zoro just pointed expectantly at you and Luffy, you were just coming out of your hiding place with a frown, and Luffy who was eating with a scowl. Sanji couldn’t help but feel like he deserved the kick this time, even if he was only trying to help, he thought with a wince.

“It is very good,” Robin chimed.

Chopper nodded in her lap, “Uh-huh! It’s real tasty.”

The rest of the crew offered their agreement, even if it made their captain’s eye twitch. “You guys are just being nice.” You muttered, taking a sip of your orange juice.

Nami was about to deny your statement, but she was interrupted, “Probably are.” Luffy muttered lowly, taking a swig of milk straight from the pitcher.

You shrank in your seat, no longer hungry.

“Monkey D. Luffy.” Robin set her now empty mug onto your side table with an audible thump. “You are out of line.”

“You’re being a dick.” Zoro grumbled, taking the last few bites of his food.

The other Straw-Hats nodded, but you shook your head, “It’s oka-“

“It’s not okay.” Robin chastised you before whirling back to Luffy with a stern look, “We let you have your time yesterday, but we will not allow you to treat your crew so poorly.” Luffy scrunched his brows together, and Robin noticed her slip. The other Straw-Hats tensed up a bit, eyes flitting between Robin and their captain, “She’s coming with us.”

“What do yo-“

“She’s going to be part of the crew, frankly whether you like it or not, because I intend on taking her onto the Thousand Sunny and keeping her safe, hell or high water.” Robin held her captain’s gaze with cool, calm control. “So, either get with it, or get over it. You’re too old and too good of a person to be a bully.”

Luffy puffed up like a bird, anger coursing through him, he wasn’t a bully. He wasn’t mean. You just…You were the worst. Every time he looked at you a pang of sadness, rage, or regret coursed through him at full force. You pissed him off. You got under his skin, burrowing deep, making him scratch and dig to get you out.

You rose to your feet, clattering your plate onto the coffee table, bits of your food scattering along the wood. Luffy couldn’t see your eyes beneath the brim of your hat, but he could see your mouth pinched in a wince, a stream of tears coming down your face. You clenched your fists and rushed past Luffy, and he heard you sniffle as you passed him by before you whirled into your room, slamming the door behind you.

‘Shit.’ Luffy didn’t like you, sure, but he didn’t want to make you cry. The thought that he had made his teeth grit, and he slammed his face into his hands with a groan of anguish. Luffy was acting weird. Even he knew it.

“Luffy.” Came Robin’s level anger, and all he could muster was a hum of acknowledgement, “I need you to understand something. This woman showed us around her island, gave us shelter, food, water, she let Nami sleep in her own bed. She has been nothing but kind and has been wringing herself into knots worrying about making you upset, making excuse after excuse for your behavior.” She went on, setting Chopper and her plate aside, walking to be at the opposite side of the counter from him, “Did you know today is her brother’s birthday? Did you know today is the anniversary of her entire pirate crew being slaughtered by Marines? Her entire nakama gone! Just like that! Did you know she has no one else? She was still holding onto hope that she’d find Ace because he was the only person in her life she had left, only to find out he’d been dead for two years.”

Luffy flinched at every word, shame pouring over him, “She’s possibly the only person who could understand exactly how you feel and you’re lashing out at her!” Robin’s voice lowered dangerously as she continued, “Her brother died in her arms after saving her life, killed by a Marine Admiral. When she got me alone, one of the first things she asked me is if Ace died smiling. Did you know all three of them promised that’s how they’d go? Do you realize she’s the only one left?”

Luffy’s eyes watered into his palms, the pain of being the only one left wracking a sob through him. The Straw-Hats sucked in gasps as they heard his quiet cries. “I didn’t know.” He cried, over and over again he muttered through his tears, “I didn’t know, I didn’t know, I didn’t know.” Robin moved around the counter and took him into a tight hug.

“You didn’t know,” Robin whispered as he started to calm down, “but now you do.”

Luffy’s breath caught. She was right. Luffy still held a sour taste in his mouth when he thought about you, but he knew what the right thing was to do. He had to apologize. He had to apologize and change his behavior. He was being mean.

Luffy lifted his head from Robin’s shoulder and nodded, wiping his face with is hands. “I gotta apologize.” He mumbled, turning to walk down your hallway.

“It’ll be okay.” Robin called after him, her brows knit with worry, but she returned to her crew, sitting back down with Chopper.

Luffy stood in front of your doorway, hand raised to knock, but that’s when he heard you. You were still crying, sobbing in your room. Because of Luffy.

‘Fuck.’

Luffy fought through the pull of fear in his chest, racking his knuckles against the maroon painted door. God, nothing in your house matched. Even your doors were different colors.

“Go away.” You muttered, muffled by the door. “I’m crying and it’s not pretty!”

Luffy flinched a bit, but tried the door handle, finding it turning readily. He pushed the door open slowly, trying not to startle you. You were in your bed, to the left of the door, back to Luffy. For once, your hat was on your nightstand. Your shoulders shook with your small cries, and even from behind, Luffy could tell you were holding onto something.

“Go away, Luffy.” You muttered, curling deeper into yourself.

“How did you know it was me?”

“You’re lighter on your feet than the rest.” Luffy blinked back a bit of shock and closed your door, creeping up to you quietly. Luffy hesitated, but he sat on your bed at your feet, his back to yours. “What do you want?” you whispered, the saddest little question he had ever heard, and Luffy swore it felt like a kick to the balls, knocking his breath out of him.

“I-I need to apologize.” He stammered, fiddling with the strings of his hat under his chin. “I’ve been mean.”

You sniffled, but sat up, sitting perpendicular to Luffy, and he saw what you held in your hands. It was another picture. This one was just of you and your brother, sly smiles as you tried to pose formally. You wore a white suit, with vest and gloves and hat, the full shebang, and your brother wore a sparkling red gown, glamorous makeup on and his short hair gelled into finger waves, and in the background Luffy could see a Marine ball.

“He was my best friend, you know?” you whispered, thumb stroking your brother’s face, “He and my uncle were my only family, then when I was five, and he was seven, he started talking about sailing the seas, the two of us with a band of misfits and orphans. We’d make our own family, with our own rules, and we’d be infamous.” You told the story with a melancholy smile, “We both stumbled onto our devil fruits one day and ate them immediately. We trained any second we got between chores, staying up until the sun rose just practicing. The second he saved up enough Berry for a proper ship, we only set foot on land for my uncle’s birthday, then his funeral and to get supplies. We racked up a large crew as we hit island after island. Then we started targeting Marines. We’d always hated those fuckers, and suddenly we could do something about it.” You said with a shrug. “The bounties started pouring in, mine and his climbing higher and higher than we ever expected, but we stayed on course. We knew what we wanted. We wanted to sail together and take out as many marines as we could on the way. They suppressed stories about us in the newspapers, because they didn’t want people seeing some small fry pirate crew with a triple digit kill count.”

Luffy’s eyebrows shot up in shock, “Holy shit.”

You smirked, a little glint in your eye, “We were a pretty formidable little crew. We anchored just short of the Grand Line and set up lights and music, I made a damned feast all for my brother. It was his eighteenth birthday. We did all of that before we were even adults.” You said with a grin spreading across your face. It dropped when you started talking again, “I was giving a little speech when the first cannonball hit. We didn’t know what hit us. We all got into battle stations, but they had a fleet. We stood our ground and my crew died with honor. I convinced my brother to play dead with me, we’d either get out alive or we’d have a better chance to ambush any attackers. It wasn’t hard, we were both so damned beat up. I didn’t know why, but he insisted on laying half on top of me, for realism he said. Bullshit. We both froze and pretended to be corpses as that damned Admiral came down into the guts of the ship, he was stabbing bodies through the heart to make sure they were dead.” Your expression curled into a snarl, “When he got to us, I was waiting on my brother’s cue, he needed to hop up first then I’d pop up and go crazy. He didn’t. He laid perfectly still as that sword ran him through, I just had to not flinch as it dug into my stomach a bit,” you said, pointing to your exposed stomach, a scar to the right, “I held still, I couldn’t let the Admiral know we were alive! When he left, I tried to stop the bleeding, but it would’ve never worked. He was dying. I cried and tried not to scream, and he just smiled, cracking jokes.” You scoffed, “Jokes! He made me promise to get out alive, to move on, to live my life and take down as many Marines as I could in the process.” You said, setting your jaw, glaring a hole through the picture in your hand. “He died smiling, and the Marines lit the ship on fire and left it to sink to the bottom of the sea. I took a dinghy that was left, a bit of food and some water and just rowed my way in one direction until I found an island, boat hopping my way back here. I was the only survivor, but since that Admiral had ‘checked’, everyone thought I was dead. Everyone was spooked as hell when I came home. I’ve been here, laying low between attacks on the Marines ever since.”

Luffy swallowed the lump in his throat, “Ace died taking a hit for me. An Admiral tried to ambush me, he had a magma fruit, and Ace stepped in. Punched him right through the chest. He died right there in my arms, and he did that shit too. He died smiling.” Luffy muttered, fighting back tears.

“He was a great man.” You muttered, shifting to sit next to Luffy properly, your legs dangling off the edge of the bed next to each other. “He really did talk about you all the time. You and Sabo.” You said, nudging Luffy’s knee with yours, “He-“ you huffed out a laugh, “he was convinced that you and I would fall in love, get married, the whole shebang. He even picked out names for our three kids.” You giggled.

Luffy flushed a bit, “He did not.”

“He did!” you insisted, counting off on your fingers, “Ruby Anne, River Lee, and Rocky Viper” you snickered, “He insisted he’d be their god father and that he’d spoil them all rotten. He came up with entire life plans for them after a while.”

Luffy found himself letting out a wheeze of a laugh, “What the hell?”

You nodded, “He was convinced they’d all be pirate captains, and that Ruby would take over for you when you got old as King. He always said she was the only responsible one. Said she took after me.” You chuckled at the memories. “He’d scold me for doing stupid stuff by saying stuff like, ‘Is this a story you want River to hear?’ or ‘Ruby’s gonna make fun of you for that in like thirty years!’.” You exclaimed, a poor imitation of Ace’s voice.

Luffy couldn’t drop the questions whispering at the back of his skull, “I still don’t know why he never talked about you.” You both frowned.

“I don’t either.”

Robin settled further into her seat with a sigh, the letter burning a hole in her pocket. Finally having enough, she ushered Chopper off of her lap and excused herself to the restroom, locking the door behind her. She turned on the tap for a moment so she could rip open the adhesive. Robin knew this was invasive, wrong, rude even, but she had to read it before she let her captain have it. She couldn’t risk another blow up in this tender transition period.

She hopped up and sat on the counter, taking the papers out of the envelope and began to skim over the handwritten words. It was a letter from Ace, alright. It said something about how he was glad that Luffy had found you, that he always knew you’d come together on your own. He apologized for hiding this part of his life from Luffy, and the explanation made Robin sigh in disappointment. ‘Men.’

It went on to detail some of Ace’s adventures with you and your brother, it insisted that Luffy was going to love you both, laying it on thick that you were Luffy’s age, and that you could cook.

Robin found nothing offensive in the letter, so she sighed in relief and folded the letter back up, going to stick the letter back in the envelope when she noticed something inside. She shook out the little square and held it up, an exasperated groan ripping out of her. It was a picture of you, it was from behind, you were in a small bikini, sitting on a dock, talking to someone out of frame as you put up your hair, it was longer back then. The sun was setting behind you and it frankly was a beautiful photo of you, but the note at the bottom made her glower, “She’s perfect for you, lil dude!”. Then Robin noticed the side boob and the way you could see most of your ass.

“She was a teenager!” Robin hissed, shaking the photo in her hand, but she relented, slotting the picture and the letter into the envelope, sticking the tongue of the envelope into its opening, slipping it back into her pocket.

‘MEN!’