#*makes an entire fucking Turkey dinner and serves it on the floor*

[its-monster-mash]

Thinking about Bo Sinclair again(never stopped) and I am in PAIN.

Like, how much WEIGHT do you think came off of Bo’s shoulders when his parents died? I mean, we know that the weight of his mother’s abuse is still crushing him given the funeral and how he talks about her.

But I mean in the practical sense—how freeing must it be for Bo to suddenly not be FORCED to do things on other people’s time/demands?

I’m just thinking about his high chair (and the fact that the janky-ass chair in his basement is ALSO old—makes me wonder how old he was when they stopped binding him to things) and like—

I feel as though Bo probably does NOT sit and eat at the kitchen table. Bo probably eats standing, or sitting on the floor, or at a desk in his shop, or in bed(the man is a menace about crumbs I just know it). I just feel like it’s a small freedom that probably at least subconsciously means a lot to him, to be able to do things the way that feels most comfortable to him.

Also I’m imagining a Sinclair Brothers Holiday Dinner and they’re all just laying on the livingroom floor eating because “Fuck a table”. Lester and Vincent can probably eat just fine at a table, but I feel like to have a nice family meal they sit on the floor with Bo and it’s just ritual.

[i-just-wanna-be-fuckin-happy]

Food Rules for Eating Actual Food That Nourishes Me and Makes Me Feel Good, Not Gross

The following is a set of rules I developed after reading the excellent book Food Rules: An Eater’s Manual by Michael Pollan (which I highly, highly recommend), flipping through a million cookbooks, heavily googling, watching other families eat in a (mostly) noncreepy way, and just paying attention to my own eating experiences. Note: This has NOTHING to do with losing weight or being “skinny.” I’m really tired of people talking about being skinny like it’s some achievement. You didn’t climb Machu Picchu, you didn’t complete your master’s degree, you just subsisted off of celery and hummus for a week while being the most stressed-out version of yourself the rest of us had to suffer through.

No diets. COME ON! You know this! There is no miracle cure for weight loss. No special pill or juice or cleanse that is going to give you the body you want. I’m so sorry! I wish there was! I would do it. Don’t drive yourself crazy with something that’s never going to work. Also: Food is a good thing. We are lucky to have food. Please, let’s not stress about every bite.

Eat food. Not low-fat, low-sugar, “lite,” protein powder, it-came-in-apackage-that-said-“natural”-so-that-means-something-right? Food made in a lab is not food at all. It’s science. You are not a lab rat. No need to run an experiment on your stomach. I have an exception to this: I keep a (simple) protein bar in my kitchen and at my office for emergency situations. Nothing is worth a hangry version of me.

Eat food that makes you feel good, not sick. Again, simple, but it took me YEARS to learn this one. I stopped eating almost all fried foods simply because I always felt sick after eating them. There is no discipline to this other than realizing that I always, always had an upset stomach after eating fried chicken and deciding I didn’t want to feel that way anymore. Listen to what your body hates. Let your body’s hate be your guide. Namaste.

If you are having trouble figuring out what your body likes, keep a (low-key) food journal. It took me a while to figure out what foods felt good and what put me into a food coma, so I kept a little journal in my purse of what I ate and how it made me feel. Salad with tofu for lunch: HANGRY THE ENTIRE FUCKING DAY. Salmon and lentils for dinner: pleasantly full and energized. Special doughnut for a colleague’s birthday at four P.M.: crazed with sugar, like a baby who just had her first bite of cake and wants MORE NOW, unable to pay attention in a meeting when I really needed to pay attention. Write down for just one week what you eat and how you feel; you’ll be floored by what you learn.

Don’t make food choices when hungry. Have you ever noticed that if you go grocery shopping on an empty stomach, you’ll leave with a basket of ice cream, carrots, and a block of cheese? How are you supposed to make dinner with that? Seriously, can you tell me? Because I’ve been there so many times and have never been able to find the answer. I am incapable of making any choices about food when I am already ravenous. I also tend to get into arguments around this time. “No, what restaurant do you want to go to??? If you have a preference, just say it!” Try to make your food choices when not on the verge of eating another person.

Make your freezer a precious miracle solution from the heavens. Keeping a freezer full of healthful meals, or meal components, is one of the best ways you can make sure you are nourishing yourself. When I roast chicken, I always make a little extra so I can dice some and put it in the freezer. Same with soups. If I make a chickpea stew, I make a couple of extra servings, pour them into ziplock bags I decorate with Sharpiedrawn hearts, and freeze them. My freezer is stocked with fruits, spiralized zucchini, muffin-tin frittatas, turkey meatballs, and other real food. This way, I’m not tempted to buy a box of microwaveable mac and cheese and call that dinner. Tho, occasionally, there is nothing better than a box of Annie’s mac and cheese.

It’s okay to go on a cleanse, but it’s not okay for that to become your personality. I’ve done a bunch of the juice cleanses. I’ve had the charcoal water that costs twelve dollars and “detoxifies” your blood. I’ve done the whole fasting thing. These drastic changes to your eating habits can be good for shaking things up every so often, sort of like the food equivalent to cleaning out your closet, but they are not a long-term solution. DO NOT BECOME SOPHIE. Sophie is the girl standing in front of us in line at the wedding buffet talking endlessly about her juice cleanse and how it “totally and utterly” changed her life and how she “never really liked full meals anyway.” You “never really liked” meals, Sophie? YOU’VE NEVER FELT THE ECSTASY OF STRAIGHT-UP DESTROYING A FULL PIZZA, SOPHIE?! YOU HAVEN’T LIVED, SOPHIE! Never be the one who is endlessly talking about some cleanse, some cure-all, your new diet, the new BEST food trend, etc. You have more interesting things to talk about than what you eat.

Keep a yummy, healthful treat around. At the end of the night, if I want something sweet, I have a few dried mango slices. They are delicious but not something I want to demolish in one sitting. What about a whole-grain toaster-oven waffle with a little honey? Three dates with a cup of mint tea is an elegant and tasty treat. The point is, always have something you ENJOY around you. You’re less likely to binge on things you don’t like when you have something that does satisfy you around. I’m looking at you, can of Pringles I don’t even like but I can take down in three minutes flat. How did you even get in my house?

[gyllenhaalstories]

GRATITUDE & ATTITUDE — THANKSGIVING WITH RAPPER!JAKE HEADCANONS.

anonymous asked:  what would rapper jake be like at Thanksgiving?

warnings: confused canadian tries to understand american thanksgiving, multiple mentions of food/eating, daddy kink, brief mentions of smut (as usual).

notes: i apologize if i’m not representing thanksgiving properly, i tried to do as much research as possible though! for those who don’t have this holiday/don’t associate with the religious aspects of it (like me!), this is pretty much focused on family gatherings and food, so you’re good! i found the gifs in a gif hunt and idk who made them, i’m sorry i can’t credit the creators. i was listening to mirrorball by taylor swift and glee’s let’s have a kiki/turkey lurkey so... yeah don’t vibe with me this time! happy thanksgiving to everyone who celebrate it! <3

food. this holiday was about food and nobody could tell rapper!jake otherwise.

the mountain of grocery bags and produce in the kitchen proved his point. he was determined to turn into all of those friendly people he watched on food network. you know, the kind eyed grandmas and the men with funky glasses? he even got an aprin. and new oven mits in which his hands actually fit. he had all of the recipes printed out on paper, then taped on the cabinets’ doors. he had the biggest smile on his face.

“when we’ll have kids, imma cook them yummy dinners every night.” he greeted you with this promise when you walked in the kitchen, rubbing your tired eyes.

you checked the clock on the microwave. it was 8: 20 am.

jake caught up on your confusion. “i waited in the parking lot to be the first person there as they open, ordered all the food online last night when you were sleeping. i picked up a cute table center piece on my way back. isn’t it lovely?”

lovely. that’s not a word he used often.who was this man and where was your boyfriend?

you turned your head and found a very autumn looking arrangement of candles and wood and other golden elements. you nodded slowly, approving of his choice.

you turned your heels, ready to go back to bed and ignore the upcoming chaos in the kitchen as lil chef jakey-jake was about to cook for an entire army.

“don’t you wanna be a good girl and help daddy cook for your parents?”

soon enough you two were wearing matching aprins, you had jake’s hands printed in flour on your butt as he fed you slices of apple while putting the pie together.

it was barely two in the afternoon and everything was ready or finishing to cook. jake made sure to let you taste test everything. he didn’t want you to be too full, so he let you snack on some froot loops around lunch time. he couldn’t deal with a hangry hostess, tonight was too special for that!

you started to yawn and get cranky and quite frankly, he was not doing any better.

“let’s nap before we feast like royalty” he suggested.

you cleaned the kitchen at the speed of lightning.

jake grabbed your hand and pulled you upstairs. he tucked you in. you spooned him, hiding your hands under his t-shirt to keep them warm as you too quickly fell asleep. he was too exhausted to laugh at your cold fingers toasting against his skin.

the alarm ran so loud that jake jumped off the bed (he caught himself before falling on the floor).

“wake up, buttercup.”

you earned a kiss on your temple, basically the only corner of skin exposed from under the blankets.

you growled in response, missing the warmth of his body.

“oh, is that so? you’re not gonna let daddy make you feel good in the shower?”

won’t you look at that, your pyjama was tossed on the floor, steam was leaving the glass shower and your back was pressed against the tiles as jake held you up and fucked into you, slow and deep.

“stuffin’ you up so good” jake laughed, as both of you were close to your release.

you exploded in laughter, jake echoing your gleeful giggles. he went to rub your sensitive clit and a few seconds later, you were screaming out his name.

the two of you got dressed. he wore a black shirt. you wore something that matched. you put on light makeup and perfume as jake watched your reflection on the steamy mirror, his arms wrapped around your waist.

“tonight is going to be perfect.” you reassure him, making him grin.

the door bell rang and jake ran down the stairs. he let you fix his rebellious collar and press a kiss on the tip of his nose.

the door slammed open. “mom, dad! so good to see you!” jake greeted your parents, remembering how you introduced them to him the first time.

another wave of laughter. jake noticed that you had the same happy wrinkles at the corner of your eyes as your mother. he loved that new detail about you.

“gather around, the food is ready!” jake said and your mom offered to help him serve the plates. he accepted, thankful for an extra pair of hands.

the table was quickly covered with mashed potatoes, chicken (he didn’t want to roast a whole turkey for the four of you), roasted veggies, salad, gravy, bread and basically everything you could think of (he kept the froot loops on the counter in case you didn’t like his newfound recipes).

jake buttered a slice of bread for you, earning a smile from your father.

you gave him a bite of stuffing and the two of you laughed at his cheesy dirty talk from earlier.

jake leaned closer to your ear, when your parents discussed some encounter with wild turkeys they had on their way home. it was picturesque, but jake’s words snapped you out of this reverie.

“all the food is good, but your pussy’s still my favourite flavour.”

you choked on your sip of hot apple cider for a quick second.

this man had no shame.

rapper!jake started to talk to your dad about the hockey season. and to your mom about the carrot cake recipe he found that he wanted to make with her.

you blinked away a happy tear.

the rest of thanksgiving dinner went smoothly. you guys went to watch television, some old scenes of charlie brown were playing. jake switched to music instead, the smooth jazz of louis armstrong brought your dad to invite you for a slow dance around living room. jake did the same with your mother.

eventually, you tried to switch partners and your dad ended up dancing with jake. they both went all in, suddenly thinking they were in a royal ballroom.

it was after the four of you stopped laughing that your mother suggested they drove back home.

it had started to snow outside, pretty hard.

“why don’t you stay? we have a guest room.”

the we made you feel all happy inside. it was jake’s house, he worked so hard to afford it. yet, he considered it yours too.

“we don’t want to bother the lovebirds!” your mom tried to deny the invitation.

“family is never a reason to be bothered.”

these words came from jake.

the same jake who, not too long ago, didn’t even speak to his own family. he didn’t want to have anything to do with them.

the same jake who was about to break down at the thought of meeting your parents.

the same jake who thought would never have a family of his own.

your parents smiled and thanked the both of you.

jake gave your dad some merch and sweatpants for sleep wear. your mom took your favourite pyjama set.

they were fast asleep.

and you thought jake would be too, after such an exhausting day of running around.

“what are you thinking about, my love?” you asked.

jake shrugged, moving his arm so you could snuggle up against him. you rested your head on his naked chest. the beat of his heart was peaceful, almost enchanting.it was your favourite musi.

“we didn’t say what we were thankful for.” he remembered the essential tradition of thanksgiving.

“then say it now.” you chuckled softly.

“i’m thankful for you,” he poked your nose, making you scrunch it adorably. “thankful i get to see you smile, get to hug you and kiss you, get to sing to you until you sleep...”

he kept going with millions of other details.

“i’m thankful for the wonderful human that you are, jacob.”

strangely, he was both tearing up and getting a boner at the same time. you can’t blame him, there’s something very hot about being open and vulnerable.

you moved on top of him, trailing kisses on his jawline and neck, on that sweet spot that drove him wild right under his ear. you painted his collarbone with more kisses.

your pace slowed down, your body was falling against his.

he wrapped his arms around you, making sure you were safe and sound as he heard you snoring slightly.

he laughed through his nose, not bothering to turn the lamp off.

he opened his mouth one last time that evening, to whisper those three magical words:

“i love you.”

[imagine-docx]

the cute barista and his crisis.

Summary: You spent the night at home, while your roommates were out partying. Suddenly, a random number called you ranting to you about how much he hates life. [college!barista!]

Warnings: hella sexual jokes and references, swearing, and hating post-secondary, as per usual.

A/N:  hope you guys are still doing well and i hope you guys are staying safe! 💛 - Amanda

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday consisted of either early morning classes, midday classes, and the occasional class that ran past 8 pm. Fridays were the only day you can claim as yours, but of course, you had to work.

It was Thursday and the cool New York air was engulfing you and your roommates as the three of you made your way to the usual coffee shop that was a little bit off campus. “Gonna ogle the cute barista again?” Wanda nudged.

“Ah yes, young love,” Nat snickered. 

“Shut up,” you felt the heat rise up to your cheeks, “I think he’s cute, but he probably has so many girls fawning over him.”

“Remember, we are the one cute girls in the coffee shop,” Nat said, opening the door, “After you, m’lady.”

That resulted in you and Wanda letting out a laugh, “Okay incel,” Wanda responded. The three of you glanced up at the menu, “I’m feeling tea today, but what kind?” Wanda said.

“After that comment, poison flavoured,” Nat muttered.

You let out a laugh, “You’re quite spicy today, go for a spiced tea.”

Wanda stuck her tongue out at Nat, “That’s why she’s my favourite roommate,” Glancing back at the menu, “Is Russian spiced tea good?” 

“I don’t know, ask your favourite roommate,” Nat said.

“Bitch.” 

The cute blond barista came up to the register, “You ready? Or do you need another minute?”

You felt Nat pinch your left ass cheek, and you nudge your elbow into her ribcage, “Yeah. Can I get a caramel iced coffee?” 

“Of course, what else?” He asked.

“Can I get a cinnamon dolce latte?” Nat spoke keeping her hand near your ass cheeks.

“Of course, and for you?” He indirectly asked Wanda.

“Russian spiced tea please.” She spoke.

“That’s $17.60, here or to go?” He asked.

“Here,” Wanda said, while digging in her backpack for her wallet, “Credit please?”

“Aww, we love it when our sugar daddy treats us,” You snickered, resulting in a laugh from Nat and the barista.

“It’s only because she bought dinner and you bought dessert last night,” she grumbled.

“Go take a seat, and I’ll bring the drinks over when they’re done.” He spoke, which resulted in a hums of thank you from the three of you and you guys walked over to the usual booth you guys inhabited when you were here.

“Is there a reason that my poor ass cheek got abused?” You asked.

“He was checking you out,” Nat bluntly stated.

“No he wasn’t, he was doing his job.” You stated. 

“And I am a natural redhead,” she sarcastically said.

“Wait, it's dye?” Wanda practically cried out.

The three of you laughed, and went over your plans for the next weekend. Nat had work and was doing rehearsal for the Russian dance competition that was happening in a few weeks. Wanda had to work and was also seeing her brother Pietro on Sunday. You on the other hand had to work, and had to have a comparative essay done by Monday. 

“You’re so lucky you’re done your midterms,” Wanda said, “I’m still struggling trying to wrap my head around platyhelminths.”

“But see, you watched me and laughed at me for only surviving off of coffee and fruit snacks for three weeks straight. Now I am prospering and living my life and you have a midterm on Monday,” you said.

“You looked like death around the apartment,” Nat laughed, and the cute barista brought over your drinks.

“Russian spiced tea, cinnamon dolce latte, and caramel iced coffee,” he said, passing around the drinks, “And a tiramisu square.”

“Uh, we didn’t order this?” Nat asked. 

“The table over there sent it,” he responded, pointing his head over to where a group of boys were sitting.

“Thank you,” the three of you hummed and there went the barista.

“You know,” Nat leaned into you, “He has a nice ass.”

“Nat,” You hissed.

“America is proud of that ass,” Wanda snickered.

Suddenly the group of boys that sent the dessert got louder, trying to get your attention. You rolled your eyes, “God, I hate men.”

“Except for the pretty blond one with a nice ass,” Nat said, digging into the tiramisu. 

“I second that,” Wanda said, taking a bite of the piece on her spoon.

Suddenly the frat boy cult got even louder, Nat rolled her eyes, and moved your hair from the base of your neck, “What are you-” Then came a long lick from the base of your neck to your jawline. Suddenly the frat boy cult shut up, “Jesus Christ, warn a girl.”

“Why are you acting all shy now? You weren’t this shy last weekend when I was doing body shots off of you at the back of the apartment,” Nat said, nonchalantly.

“You may have shut up the frat boy cult, but the cute barista is so red you can confuse him for a bottle of ketchup.” Wanda stated.

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

Two weeks have passed, and you would go into the coffee shop whenever you had over an hour worth of a gap, or before work. Today is one of those days. It was Friday, and you were due to start your shift in forty-five minutes. 

Walking into the shop, there was the cute barista working the front. You didn’t catch the way his eyes practically lit up upon seeing you. “Just you today?” He asked.

“Yes sir,” you said, giving him a smile.

“Caramel iced coffee?” He asked.

“Of course,” you said, digging in your bag for your wallet. 

“Don’t worry, it's on the house.” He said, “Here or to go?”

“To go, please.”

“You got it doll,” and with that you stood off to the side and waited for him to make your drink. 

“Caramel iced coffee,” he called out.

“Thank you, have a good day,” you called out before making your way to your shift.

“You know you look like a lovesick puppy,” Bucky said to Steve.

“That obvious?” Steve asked. 

“Yeah. Also, remember, Happy is gonna take that coffee out of your paycheque,” Bucky said patting Steve’s back.

“If it’s for her, Happy can have my entire paycheque.” Steve responded, going to clean up.

“Ugh, teenagers and their hormones,” Bucky spoke.

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

You, Wanda, and Nat sat on your shared living room floor eating the steamed dumplings and sushi that you ordered for dinner. “So you saw the cute barista boy today,” Wanda said, “Soy sauce please.”

Nat handed her the sauce before taking a california roll for herself, “His ass still thick?”

You nearly choked on the dumpling you were eating, “Fucking Christ, Nat.”

“You can’t miss that ass!” Nat tried justifying, “He walks in, and his ass walks in five minutes later.”

Wanda choked on her iced tea, “He wore this white shirt that was way too tight for him, God that left nothing to the imagination,” you said recalling the way his muscles moved when making your coffee.

“Someone’s having a wet dream tonight,” Wanda said.

You threw a soy sauce packet at her head, “No! I don’t even know his name.”

“See that’s a problem, she can’t moan his name if she doesn’t know his name.” Nat laughed.

You threw a soy sauce packet at her head, “The both of you need to get laid.”

“So do you sweetheart, and by the big muscular blond with the thick ass who works at The Petite Bean.” Wanda said, nearly dodging another soy sauce packet.

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

The next Friday night you were at home by yourself eating a sandwich from the bodega that was next to your building. Wanda and Nat went to this party, you wanted to go, but after your shift, you were exhausted and just decided to call it a night. 

Taking the last bite of your turkey sandwich, you got up and threw everything out, and decided to go and take a long hot shower. You stood at the tv debating whether or not you should turn off the documentary on whales, but you decided not to as it helps serve as background noise.

You showered and threw on a massive NYU hoodie and some pyjama shorts. Getting out of the shower, you headed back to the kitchen, dug around in the cabinets for a snack of a sort, and headed back to your position on the couch. 

You were scrolling through your Instagram, when a random number called you. You answered because you never know it could be Nat or Wanda in trouble. “Hello?”

You heard a shaky breath from the other side, “Oh sorry, I have the wrong number.”

“Hey, before you hang up, are you okay?” You asked.

“Not really-”

You cut him off, “Did you want to talk about it? I have the time.”

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna bother you,” the man from the other side of the line said.

“Of course, shoot,” you said.

“Midterms got the worst of me. I’m practically failing chemistry, why did I take chem? Like I’m an art major, the fuck am I doing in science? Then the girl I dated for a little keeps coming by the place I work at with the man she cheated on me with, and that shit still stings. Then, there’s this cute girl who keeps coming by the place I work, and I can’t seem to talk to her. She’s like this ball of sunshine, and I don’t think I can talk to her. Do you have anything fucked up happening in your life? Or is the lord hating on me?” 

You laughed, “Unfortunately, no. With the chem thing, don’t be so hard on yourself. Courses get to the best of us, we are so reliant on a GPA, when it doesn’t even guarantee a job after practically killing ourselves for this degree. Failing one course isn’t so bad, just don’t fail more than three, that might result in academic probation. Honestly, if she cheated on you, fuck her. She doesn’t deserve any of your attention, if she was the one who gave you up. And with the other girl, just slowly ease her into it, ask her how her day has been, ask her about the weather, if she’s holding a book or something, try to bond with her about that.”

“You sound like a psych major,” he joked.

“Psych minor,” you corrected, “Socio major. From what I know you can’t be a science major. So what do you major in?” 

“Art history, and minor in regular history.”

“Oh, we got a huge history fan don’t we?” You joked.

“Biggest nerd in Brooklyn.”

That same night the two of you stayed talking until 4:30 am, before he heard you yawning and telling you to get some sleep. You both bidded your goodnights and the moment your head hit the pillow, you knocked out.

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

The following morning, or afternoon at that point. You stumbled into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee, and heard Wanda and Nat groaning about how they need Advil. You opened the door to Nat’s room and saw the two of them practically cuddling. You threw two bottles of water, and the bottle of Advil at them before heading to the washroom to brush your teeth. 

Once you were done, you sat on the counter of the kitchen drinking your coffee, you heard stumbling from the hallway. Suddenly, a disheveled Nat appeared, she was sporting bedhead, smeared makeup, a black lace bra and some random sleeping shorts that looked like they belonged to Wanda. “Good morning sweetheart,” you cooed.

She flipped you off before making herself a cup of coffee, “Never drinking again.”

“Nat,” Wanda whined, “Please I need a cuddle buddy.”

“You have another roommate,” Nat reminded her.

Wanda nudged your legs open and curled up into your frame, “My favourite.”

You laughed while patting her head, “What happened?”

“So much booze, free booze.” Nat stated.

Free booze to university kids was like feeding candy to a toddler. “Alright cuddlebug. I have errands to do, I gotta go shower.” You said trying to push away Wanda.

“No, please don’t.” Wanda latching onto you harder.

“She’s gonna make her way down to Manhattan to see the cute barista,” Nat joked.

“Harhar, I’m going to the bank and I need to mail out this return. The green dress was too big, had to order a size down.” You said, finishing off your coffee, finally pushing off Wanda, “Also why the fuck would I go to Manhattan to see the barista.”

“Dick makes you do crazy things baby girl.” Nat said.

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

While you were getting dressed your mind ran onto the man who called you last night and ranted to you about his life. You decided to call him back and check up on him. After three rings he picked up, “Hello?”

“Hey, you called me last night and we talked for an hour and a half about some super deep stuff, you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, thanks for checking up on me.” He spoke.

“Not a problem, if you ever need to rant, you can always text me.” You said shoving your wallet into your bag.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna burden.” He asked.

“If you need a friend, I am here for you.” You said.

You two exchanged names, before both of you had to go. And that started your texting relationship with a man named Steve Rogers.

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

You came back home from your errands trip and brought bagels for the two hungover disasters you call your roommates. You walked back in and saw Wanda and Nat under the pink fur blanket watching the whale documentary you were watching last night. “My baby is back,” Wanda said excitedly.

“I bring bagels, because bagels make us happy when we are hungover.” You said placing the bag on the table, “Two rainbow bagels with strawberry cream cheese. Two poppy seed bagels with tuna salad on both.” You said handing each of them their own bagels. 

You grabbed your own two before plopping next to them, “If barista boy doesn’t domesticate you, I will.” Nat said.

You laughed before you felt your phone buzz in your pocket, you got a message from Steve asking about the bagel place you usually get your stuff from. “Who’s Steve?” Wanda asked.

“New mans?” Nat exclaimed.

“You’re replacing barista boy before you could even dick him down?” Wanda cried out.

“No, Jesus. I haven’t even met Steve-” Wrong phrasing you used there.

“You’re back on tinder?” Wanda asked, “I thought we were doing it together.”

“No, he accidentally called me last night and we talked for an hour.” You said nonchalantly taking a bite out of your bagel.

“A threesome with barista boy and Steve? Wow someone’s getting some,” Nat said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Jesus Christ Nat.”

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

As per usual, you made your way into the cafe getting coffee before your shift. Noticing the barista, you again missed the gleam in his eyes when he saw you. He mustered up the courage, “Hey, how are you?”

“I’m good, how are you?”

“I’m doing good,” You smiled.

Steve felt his knees weaken at your smile, “The usual?”

“The usual,” you said, paying and going to message the roommate group chat about the tight light blue shirt barista boy was wearing today.

“Alright, here you go.” He said sliding you the coffee and a straw.

“Thank you, have a good day,” you said before slipping out of the shop and heading to work.

“So you took the girls advice and asked her about her day, look at you making big moves.” Bucky nudged Steve.

“One step at a time Buck,” he said, going to clean up his station.

“Hey, you better have not given her another free coffee,” Bucky called out.

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

After several weeks of messaging Steve, you learned he also attended NYU and both of you worked around your schedules, trying to meet up. The two of you finally decided to meet on campus. You picked a morning where you, Nat and Wanda had a two hour gap just in case something happened and he was in fact a 50 year old pervert with a thing for third year students.

You: hey i’m in the student centre

Steve: Hey, I’m sitting, I’m wearing a black jacket and a white t-shirt

You looked up and almost screamed, as if the gods were playing a joke on you. It was your cute barista boy. Okay, being rational, he could happen to be here at the same time, wearing the same out- nope, no way. “Steve?” You asked, approaching the table.

Looking up from his phone, he was shocked as well, “H-hi,” he stuttered out.

“Can I sit?” You asked.

“Of course.”

“So I guess you were helping me, try and talk to you,” he finally spoke out.

“Wait, what?” You asked, confused.

“The girl I was messaging you about, was you,” he sheepishly said.

You didn’t know how to respond, “Really?”

“Yeah, if you don’t feel the same that’s okay.” Steve said looking down at his fingers.

You took his hand in yours, “No, I like you too.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah, Nat keeps trying to get me to ask you out. But I kept talking myself out of it.” You said.

“How about I treat you to the finest thing this campus has to offer and we can talk about how we both are idiots,” he offered.

“It better be the Wendy’s,” you joked.

“Only the finest for the finest,” he winked at you, resulting in the blush staining your cheeks. He stood up and put his hand out, upon standing up you took his hand and was about to exit the student centre. 

You heard Nat speak loudly to Wanda, “She’s getting dick, I’m so proud of her.” You wanted the ground to create a blackhole and swallow you whole. 

Until you heard another voice, “BuckBuck! Our baby Steve is all grown up and getting pussy.”

You looked to see Steve blushing, turning back and flipping him off, “Fuck off Sam.”

Of course, both of your roommates were the worst.

[aries-writingblog]

Atlas (2)

Summary: After years of being imprisoned on the Raft, Tony negotiates freedom for his sister Tessa. When she’s free- so is her past, and it will never stop hunting her.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC(Stark)

Chapter Word count: 2299

Warnings: PTSD (subtle ish), trauma, torture (in later parts), suicidal behaviors and thoughts, mentions of death, character death, injury, violence, angst, and a lil bit of fluff in there

Disclaimer: Atlas is my own, original work with characters belonging to Marvel (except Tessa and Dr. Clifton). Plagiarism is not cool kids.

A/N: this is my first work I'm posting to this platform and I’m really excited and nervous about it. Hope you enjoy- constructive criticism is always helpful as well!!

“i’ve about had it with two starks around this place.” bucky grumbled, pushing the bar another rep. sam scoffed, and leaned on the bar as bucky huffed, trying to push it up.

“you’re just upset cause she’s a pretty girl that doesn’t want to talk to you and doesn’t care what you think.” he rebuffed, pressing down more. steve sighed from across the room, seeing the tension building between the two.

“that is not what i think at all-“ he pushed sam up and hooked the weight bar, sitting up on the bench. “i’m glad she’s making herself comfortable- she was locked up for six years, that’s wonderful but there’s something about her... i feel like she’s hiding things. big things.”

for the past week, tessa had been mostly hiding away on her floor. the few times she did come down she didn’t speak much. she did, however, leave socks on the common room floor, seemingly at night when no one was there. she also left dishes at the counter, also at night. bucky only knew for certain it was her because on the nights he couldn’t fall asleep, he would see her, slipping back into the stairwell as he approached the common floor. and every time she looked at him, she would scowl and sneer at him. granted, he had killed her parents and of course he felt bad about it, the guilt keeping him awake, but he didn’t even know if she knew it was him. she had been away for years with no contact.

the only person she seemed to be normal around was tony. she would go to the mechanics lab some days and help around there. the only other person she spoke to every day was sam and he had to rub it in everyone’s faces. anytime he got the chance.

“she’s still leveling out, buck. give her a chance.” steve called out, using his t shirt tail to wipe at his forehead.

“do we even know why she was locked up? sam said she served in the army- what did she do to be in the raft?” bucky countered. sam sighed and put his hands to his hips.

“i don’t even know. i never met her officially, our teams worked closely once- on the same mission but we never spoke. i saw her maybe twice that whole time- leading her group on the ground while we worked from the air. she was an amazing leader- her men trusted her with their lives. but... she’s nothing like i saw years ago. not even the same person.” sam shook his head. “but that could’ve been anything- war changes people. there’s no telling what she’s seen. what she’s done. tony won’t explain?”

“oh, sure- he’s my best friend and he’ll answer any question about his family i have.” bucky snarked, rolling his eyes.

“no, i’ve asked why she won’t join us at dinner or when we’re all around.” steve interrupted. “never answers it, goes around it.”

“she’s hiding something.” bucky insisted. “i don’t trust people like that. they mean one thing- trouble.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

pain. searing, white hot pain ran through her veins. bursting vessels and capillaries. a high pitched whine drawled on through the haze of pain. she wasn’t going to make it through this- she couldn’t take it anymore. the heat was too strong. too intense.

tessa jolted awake, panting heavily. there was an intense heat surrounding her. she cursed loudly as she leapt from her bed, the sheets on fire. for the third time this week.

“Friday!” her voice was croaky and rough. “extinguish the sheets! and turn off those damn alarms!”

“yes, miss tessa.” the AI complied immediately, performing her intended actions. tessa ran a hand over her eyes, rubbing them harshly. tessa quickly moved across the room and snatched a hoodie from the desk chair. yanking it on, she left the room, slamming the door behind her. she had to get her control back. calm. collected. control. And that started when she could get the smell of smoke out of her nose.

Wandering, she made her way to the kitchen, stumbling into the room. She took a deep breath and opened the fridge. She had skipped dinner again. The whole team ate together and she didn’t want to chance it. She didn’t want them in her business. She didn’t want them in her head- she was well aware of the witch. And she certainly didn’t want a flare up at dinner. How embarrassing would it be if she killed one of her ‘new teammates’ while shoving rice and turkey in her face?

So she ate at midnight when there was no one around. Except sometimes when Barnes came a little too close to finding her. Then she would abandon everything just to sprint to her room. She was aware of his transgressions- Tony thought it wise to tell her when she wouldn’t rage on the tower. He told her when she was being transported, obviously a great idea. But, Tessa had accepted the news graciously. Being upset, of course, but also understanding. She knew it wasn’t his fault- he’d been forced. She was well acquainted with accidents...

Tessa sat at the counter, at two AM, eating leftover, cold Chinese food because it was safe. It was control. Stability. She scrolled through her phone, stared at the wall. The usual. Until she heard steps coming down the hallway. She was quick to get up, abandoning her things. But, she’d underestimated how far the steps were. She turned to walk out and collided with a broad chest.

Looking up, she saw Barnes, leering down at her. His blue eyes ice cold. She backed away, looking down and scowling. Angry at herself for letting him touch her. She could have hurt him. She should’ve been more aware.

Bucky noticed how stiff and quiet she was, as well as the scowl on her lips. He also took notice of her dark under eyes, the frizzy nest that was her hair and the slight smell of smoke and fire that lingered on her skin. At first, he felt slightly concerned. He recognized the signs of insomnia and sleeplessness. But then, it was taken over by an irritated, angry shadow.

“What the hell is your problem?” He demanded, using his body to block the only exit from the kitchen. He saw the shift in her face as she clenched her jaw.

“I’m sorry.” She muttered, moving to try and step around him. He blocked her again. She scowled deeper. “Look, I’m sorry alright- didn’t see you coming.”

“Not about that-“ Bucky sighed, running a hand down his face. “Why do you run out of here so fast when I’m coming in? And the fucking socks on the floor in the living room- pick the fuckers up, it isn’t that hard!”

Tessa flinched and her eyes shot up to meet his. She didn’t realize he saw her leaving every time. Bucky noticed the flinch and softened his gaze. He took a deep breath before trying again.

“Sorry- I guess I could’ve said that a little kinder.” He explained. “Every time I come into a room you leave. I just... I thought it was something against me.” Tessa furrowed her brows, quickly taming the anxiety boiling in her stomach.

“No- no it’s not because of you- it’s more of for you... it’s hard to explain.” She stumbled over words before shaking her head. “Just... I’m sorry.”

She slipped around his side and forced herself through the opening. When her skin grazed his, he felt the heat rolling off her in waves. She was too warm. Suspiciously, he took note of the Chinese boxes on the counter and decided there was something suspicious about her. He wanted information, he didn’t like how secretive everything was around her. Bucky Barnes was determined to find the bottom of this whole thing.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tony knew a storm was brewing when the door to his mechanics shop was slammed. Tessa whirled around the corner, eyes on fire and veins glowing in anger. She slammed her hands onto the metal table, a sizzling noise instantly coming from the surface.

“You didn’t tell any of them?” She demanded, loud and disbelieving. Tony pursed his lips before turning to face her. He didn’t even have to respond verbally for her to know the answer. She scoffed loudly and threw her hands up. In the place where they used to lay were two scorched hand prints identical to her flesh hands. “I can’t believe this Tony- none of them know what they’re getting into bed with you’ve set them all up for a wicked end!”

“Well, I wasn’t expecting any of them to get into bed with you, however...” Tony’s voice trailed off when Tessa’s scalding glare fixated on him again. “Okay, okay. So none of them are aware of your talents“ Tessa scoffed. “It wasn’t my news to tell.”

“It’s not that- it’s... I thought- it’s stupid.” She muttered, beginning to cool off, feeling the room temperature lowering. Tony gave her a look, telling her to spill her guts. And she did. “I thought that’s what all the stares were for... they always stare at me when I come around. I thought it’s because they knew...”

Tony looked at his sister, at the dejected, defeated look she wore. He knew it would be hard for her to adjust. But he didn’t know that she would shut herself off completely. He sighed before responding.

“That’s because all you do is stay locked in your tower, Rapunzel.” He jabbed, tossing his tools to the table and leaning on it. “Give them a chance. Be around a little more and maybe they won’t stare. Come down tonight and eat dinner with the group. I’ll be there the entire time, it’ll be good. We’re eating pizza.”

Sure enough, when seven thirty rolled around, Tessa found herself wandering downstairs to the common area. The whole team was lounging around, passing a box of pizza around the circle they were all sat in. She hesitantly exposed herself from the dark doorway. Steve took notice of her first, putting his plate down and standing up.

“Tessa, hey. Why don’t you come sit down and eat with us?” He gestured to his seat. Tessa shook her head slightly, seeing as he was seated right between Bucky and Natasha. She couldn’t risk that close contact.

“I’ll sit here, thank you.” She sat on a separate armchair, one that would keep any accidental flames near her own body. Contained. Controlled.

“Well, I’m glad you’ve joined us.” He responded, sitting back down. She squirmed slightly, feeling Wanda’s lingering gaze, as well as Sam’s. Sam, however took it a step further.

“So what have you been up to since the army days, Atlas?” He asked, with the purest of intentions. Tessa’s face fell flat as she cast a devilish gaze to him.

“Prison.” She responded. The conversation halted to an abrupt stop. Tessa knew she’d made a mistake- she hadn’t meant to. It was supposed to come out lighter than it had but it seemed she didn’t have that much light in her to portray. She looked down to her lap, clasping her hands tightly.

“Well, none of us know much about you- except Tony and he won’t breathe a word.” Natasha explained. She gave Tessa a warm smile. “Tell us about yourself.”

“Nothing to tell, really.” She muttered. Then she bit her tongue and glanced up to the faces around her. You’ll never get anywhere if you never try. You have to give them something to work with here, Tess. “I served in the army, the 95th, for three tours. Overseas when I was fresh out of high school. Two nine month tours and one twelve month. After that I was... I was chosen for a project by the US government.”

“What kind of project?” Steve asked, trying not to be too pressing as it seemed she had enough trouble trying to steel her nerve to talk to them. Tessa responded well to the prompt, picking up the conversation and handling it delicately.

“It was called Project Fire Maelstrom. It was run by Dr. J.R. Clifton. His original intent was super soldier serum but something went wrong and he created me instead.” Tessa explained carefully, choosing words precisely.

“Created you?” Vision asked. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. What was created?”

Tessa brushed a hand over her neck before extending her palm. Then, she snatched it back and leapt from her seat. She quickly backed away, into an open area. She took a deep breath and focused before extending her palm again. She bit the inside of her cheek and - there it was. Fire bloomed over her palm, dancing It’s way out to her fingertips. There was a quiet awe in the room and she quickly extinguished it, feeling the embarrassment creep up her neck.

“The serum was off- Dr. Clifton created something different. A new type of soldier.” She explained, taking her seat again, carefully keeping a watch on her focus. It was rare but flare ups have happened after using her powers.

“So what landed you in the Raft?” Wanda asked cautiously. Tessa turned her face to look at the witch, a curious gaze met her eyes. “You were a soldier- how did you end up in prison?”

Tessa swallowed harshly. Bucky watched as she seemed to space out, but only for a moment, before she snapped back to attention. But he had caught it- that dead eye, thousand yard stare. He’d perfected it over the years. So why was it mirrored on her face now? Tessa gave a small, half hearted smile to Wanda as she picked at her pizza, disinterested in eating it. When she did answer, it was quiet and apologetic.

“That’s a story for another day...”

[rileybraxton]

Name: Riley Braxton Nickname: Brax Age: 34 FC: Paul Wesley Occupation: Tattooist at Scorpion Studios Side: Wicked Wolves Length of stay in Charming: approx. 14 years Positive traits:  + loyal, + crafty, + brave  Negative traits: - damaged, - suspicious, - hotheaded

triggers: parental adultery. drug abuse. addiction. crime. needles. 

✚ middle child ✚ due to his mother having an affair ( for years ) he and his elder brother share different fathers. however, he and his younger brother share the same father ( the guy mamma cheated with )  ✚ he was always a reckless child. it only worsened when he hit his teens and fell in with bad crowds ✚ staying out, doing disappearing acts or coming home drunk, if not drugged up too ✚ to be honest, his entire attitude stunk. he showed little to no respect for his parents, or older brother who he considered a bit of an uptight snoot ✚ if he’s honest, the only person he wasn’t a total asshole to was his younger brother ✚ he was 16 when he came home and caught his mother in bed with another man. not just any man, but his fathers best friend. the truth was exposed, it turned out that the affair had been going on for years  ✚ his mother begged him not to tell and promised to end it and he agreed. asshole so he was, he didn’t want to be the reason his father crumbled and his brother ended up with a broken home ✚ his motive may have started out purely but over the months, his bitterness? it only festered. his behaviour worsened, the disrespect began to have an impact on his parents relationship. the father just couldn’t seem to understand why his wife was seemingly letting him get away with everything he was doing ✚ he’d ask her for money which he only went out and spend on drugs. small things at first, a pill here, a spliff there. somewhere along the way he managed to get hooked on heroin, though amazingly he did manage to hide his needle poked arms ✚ it was amidst a drugged up haze that he felt some kind of penny drop. he was sat on the rooftop, watching his parents, his brother and his fathers best friend when he noticed something he hadn’t before ✚ the similarities between his man and his brother, between this man and him. the more he sat and stared, the more he couldn’t see a trace of his “father” in his own features, nor his younger brothers ✚ all it took was one out-loud thought and his mother confirmed everything with the simple look on her face. it was a lot to process, too much in-fact. which is what lead to an explosive dinner that same evening ✚ his “father” was laying into him, which wasn’t unusual. shaming him for being such a fuck up. usually he’d sit silently and take it, but this time? the words came flying out his mouth before he could think to stop them “who the fuck are you to talk to me like that? you’re not even my father. ain’t that right, mom?”  ✚ the truth came out in a hateful splurge. everything from how the affair had been going on at least 17 years, straight to “oh, and the guy? sitting right next to you” aka, the best friend ✚ so, his not so biological father ended up focusing that betrayal back onto riley, which resulted in the pair of them going toe to toe, breaking everything in sight as they threw their punches ✚ being a little shit, he was fully egging him on, “come on. that’s right. hit me. your wife’s a whore and you’re laying into me? makes perfect fucking sense” ✚ it wasn’t until he managed to get him on the floor that he noticed his little brother on the staircase, pausing the punch he was about to land on his fathers face. a simple “shit” under his breath ✚ he got up instantly, all that rage on his face disappeared and replaced with a soft warmth that he reserved only for his brother. he left to take him back up to bed, leaving his parents and the not so decent best friend to fight it out between themselves ✚ in the end it turns out they decided to stay together and try and work through it, but it only served to create a toxic environment ( more so ) ✚ riley was 20 and fully hooked on drugs when he got himself arrested for grand theft auto and it was the icing on the cake for both parents ✚ they didn’t exactly kick him out, but they made it clear he wasn’t welcome unless he cleaned his act up  ✚ surprisingly, he did try, but only after he packed up and moved in with a friend. he went cold turkey and yes, that shit fucking sucked. it was basic agony for at least three weeks before he began to feel like he was getting better ✚ rather than return home, he did perhaps one of the shittiest things a person could do & he stole his mothers jewellery that were basically family air-looms, pawned them for a few grand, bought a car and hit the road ( not before saying goodbye to his little bro and promising him he would call and visit all the time. )  ✚ in truth, he wanted to take him, but he knew it was selfish, especially when he didn’t even have a secure home ✚ he ended up in charming, fresh faced and sober. he stayed in a motel for a few months, saving money from odd jobs and focusing his energy on building a life for himself ✚ he’d always been creative, drawing & sketching came so naturally to him that he decided to train up and become a qualified tattoo artist ✚ at 22, he finally got his own place to rent and things were looking up. he’d passed his courses with flying colours, made a couple friends and even met a girl who he fell head over heels for  ✚ the only trouble was, this girl was just as reckless as he was and their entire relationship was something like a beautiful tragedy. they’d party most nights and for the first few months, everything was fine. he managed to say no every time she’d offer him a pill, every time her friends offered something stronger. truth be told, he’s not sure exactly when he slipped up, or even why. but he did, and there he was once again sticking needles in his arms and wasting away. ✚ he ended up breaking up with his girlfriend and she hit the road with a couple pals not long after - he’s never seen her since ✚ he did a good job at hiding his problem, still managing to hold down his bar jobs to pay his rent, at least for a few months. everything changed when his 14 year old brother showed up on his doorstep with all his bags ✚ once again, he forced himself to go cold turkey. if his brother insisted on living with him, riley didn’t want him to watch him destroy himself. so really, he’s quite thankful that his brother showed up when he did, who knows, it probably saved his life ✚ back on track and finally in a good place, he fell in with the wolves and quickly realised that’s exactly where he needed to be ✚ some may say it’s tempting fate, running drugs considering he’s an addict, but he vowed the day they accepted him into their fold that he’d never make them regret it ✚ fyi, he hasn’t. whilst he has fell off the wagon twice since, he never did the wolves dirty. anything he took, he paid for, any job they gave him, he completed ✚ he probably drinks more than he should and he still enjoys a spliff, but he’s never touched any other drug in 3 years and to be honest, he’s very proud of himself ✚ he got a secure job at scorpion tattoo studios 2 years ago & he really enjoys it ✚ sooo, he’s clean, he has a job, a home, a family in the form of wicked wolves and a good set of friends. life is pretty sweet ✚ that’s not to say he’s not still very hot headed & impulsive. probably quite fuckin’ damaged too, but hey, all the best people are ✚ thanks for reading my novel 

wanted connections:

✚ younger brother - CLOSED ✚ oldest brother(who’s probably a cop or smth straight shooting) - OPEN ✚ friends - OPEN ✚ old/new enemies - OPEN ✚ friends with benefits - OPEN ✚ the original ex girlfriend mentioned above - OPEN ✚ maybe a repeat client who lets him tattoo him/her with his own designs? - OPEN ✚ someone who knows he’s a recovering addict maybe? since i imagine he doesn’t typically share that info, it could be someone who’s seen him attend a meeting, or is even a recovering addict themselves - OPEN ✚ literally anything! 

[in-tua-deep]

Hi, I'm the anon who asked for the fluffiest most heartwarming headcanons and they really cheered me up thank you so much! ❤️

asdfghASFGHJ i can give some more random headcanons if you’d like >:3c

we’re gonna go with a theme of food since i went grocery shopping today

After a while in the apocalypse, some things started to grow back. Plants are tough, and a fantastic way to supplement a diet of insects if you know which ones are edible

that’s a long way to say that the siblings witness Five just stuff an Entire Flower into his mouth and he also randomly will stoop while walking and just grab some clover or something and stuff it in his pockets

“And y’all say I’m weird.” Klaus says while they watch Five absently pick and eat an entire patch of dandelions on their Forced Family Bonding Picnic

Five isn’t the only one with food issues - Klaus and Ben also come with food issues and surprisingly Luther also has food insecurity thanks to his time on the moon (everyone noticed that nice note which asked his dad to please remember to send more food right)

Klaus lived with homelessness and Ben hasn’t eaten actual food since he died regardless of the fact that Klaus always sets a place for him or saves him a cup of coffee or tea to include him, and the day that Klaus manages to make Ben manifest enough to actually eat and drink is going to be a Whole Barrel Full of Emotions

honestly what i’m saying is that there is some really wholesome mealtime shenanigans where everyone takes turns providing dinner or lunch and everyone has to attend because it’s family time and there is. varying level of success.

Luther’s food is a little basic but edible enough once they all grab some seasoning. He doesn’t do anything fancy with it, but he can put together a fairly solid meal - and if he actually genuinely studied for this and watched a bunch of youtube channels on cooking well he’s allowed to do whatever he wants on his free time thank you very much

Diego is. Well. He’s been living on his own for a while he’s technically capable of putting a meal together. And if everyone is served scrambled eggs on toast then hey it’s breakfast for dinner shut up that’s a real thing screw you all. (He might have forgotten it was his turn until someone casually mentioned it and he had to make do with whatever was in the kitchen oops)

Allison looks competent in her life but the first time it’s her turn to do dinner they end up having to order pizzas because Allison gets distracted and everything burns. There is some extreme heist shenanigans scrubbing everything down and busting out the air fresheners before Five gets back and Five scowls when he finds out but is actually endeared though he’d never admit it

Everyone expects Klaus’s dinner to be a fucking disaster and it was but that disaster is not what the family was fed so it all turns out okay in the end. Mainly because they went shopping earlier and ended up with a bunch of freezer food and so the family is served a wonderful mean of turkey dinosaur shaped nuggets with sides of kraft mac n’ cheese and microwaveable steamed broccoli

look Klaus is easily distracted and inclined to experiment to the point of inedibility which is not a fantastic combination for family dinner night. the only reason it goes decently is because Ben exists to act as Klaus’s one brain cell and Ben’s intervention depends entirely on how much his siblings have pissed him off this week so.

Five probably just fucking. Proudly dumps a bunch of cans of food on the table and considers his job in ‘providing’ for his family done. When question he defensively says “they aren’t even out of date yet!” and everyone is left squinting at these metal tubes containing their dinner

Next meal though, after much explanation on what they mean by family dinner nights, is probably some kind of stew?? probably a really bizarre and weird veggie stew because you can just kind of toss whatever in a stew pot and go with it which is probably one of the only real things he knows how to make. He may or may not build a fire in the courtyard to cook it since he isn’t sure how to do it making an oven and stove but like. baby steps y’all baby steps.

Ben gets to opt out of being in the roster for family dinner nights due to. his dead-ness. plus the fact that Klaus isn’t reliable in keeping him corporeal yet, but he does make some bomb ass desserts on klaus’s dinner nights when klaus has the energy to manifest him (as long as ben bugs klaus to remember to get whatever it is out when it’s ready)

Vanya makes so many casseroles y’all. When she was on her own she looked up stuff she could make that could be made in one dish and kind of went from there. Did she watch too many shows as a kid where a kindly neighbor brought over some casserole? probably. but her food is actually both edible, homemade, and freeze-able which puts her a leg up on pretty much all of her siblings tbh

the last day of the week, bc ben doesn’t cook, goes to Grace and everyone eagerly awaits those days because let’s be real Grace’s food is the best food and yeah, they might have come up with this thing to give her a break in the first place but damn if she isn’t the real expert and at one point or another they all end up seeking out her advice which she is always pleased by

Five might mainline coffee but surprise! He’s actually not alone in that. Vanya has long long hours of orchestra practice and needs a kick to stay awake, and Allison is completely unashamed with her starbucks obsession. Klaus is always eager to accompany Allison and gets the biggest most sugary drinks possible (as long as she’s paying)

Vanya does try to switch and keep to teas though. Especially after the whole apocalypse debacle. Look her powers are linked to her emotions and she’s going to drink whole gallons of calming whatever tea if it means she isn’t going to punt her idiot brothers through a few walls and go full on Carrie (even if they totally deserve it). She does have some regrets about the frequent bathroom breaks though

Luther is the sibling who tries the teas with Vanya. It’s quiet, they don’t really have to talk to each other, and it’s supposed to be calming so it’s their little bonding thing since god they both need it a lot tbh

Diego thinks coffee pollutes his system and probably keeps a whole bunch of sports drinks. and SMOOTHIES or like those dumb blended drinks? everyone loses respect for him the day they witness him voluntarily drink something with not one but multiple raw eggs in it

even Diego “my body is a temple” Hargreeves balks at Allison’s health smoothies which havekale in them. Allison insists they don’t taste that bad but everyone sees her grimacing when she thinks they aren’t looking. The only one that dares drink Allison’s smoothies is Five and everyone is convinced his taste buds died with the rest of the world in the apocalypse

Allison and Diego team up at least once to try and get the rest of the siblings to go on a health kick. Luther reluctantly joins their side because of the power of Allison and is regarded as a traitor by the rest. Vanya was almost persuaded until Allison said they were having spaghetti and brought out spaghetti squash. 

Klaus is ardently against this health kick because he wants waffles for breakfast, mainly. Five is only against it out of spite because they tried to throw away his marshmallows for his sandwiches

Klaus gets really hungry after using his powers to manifest Ben. His power is usually passive but when he’s actively using it, he’s burning calories. This probably leads to at least one collapse before Five elbows his way in to coach Klaus on How Not To Pass Out and to keep snacks on his person

Five’s power is similar in that jumps burn calories for him, which is why he almost never jumped in the apocalypse unless his life was in danger. The peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches were created to give himself some much needed calories and energy. He fainted a lot as a kid and knows how to handle this kind of bullshitbut Klaus is kind of garbage at taking care of himself so i mean. it’s a big old learning curve going on and tbh both Klaus AND Five don’t eat enough they’re both too skinny smh

Everyone takes turns going grocery shopping except for Five and Klaus. Five because he’s not driving to the store alone because he might get arrested (plus his grasp of paying for things is. very loose). 

Klaus because of the Incident that Shall Not Be Mentioned involving a local grocery chain store, an entire aisle of baby food, just a little bit of public nudity, and a wet floor sign. That, and Klaus always came back with the most ridiculous things possible anyway so

Klaus tries to wheedle everyone into letting him go because Ben is with him, guys! But no one falls for this. Ben is petty and will take Klaus’s side or egg him on almost as much as he acts as Klaus’s sole brain cell, and Klaus also has a history of ignoring Ben even when he is acting like that one brain cell

Klaus does occasionally tag along with the others. Mainly Diego, because Diego has a not-so-secret Klaus-shaped soft spot. Klaus usually demands to ride in the trolley and knocks things off shelves like a small toddler or particularly mischievous cat

Everyone in the house teams up to make sure Klaus eats at least one (1) fruit or vegetable at least every other day

okay that’s all i got for now i have to take a shower but enjoy ;3c

[cjxkpopxwriting]

Extra Stuffing - Sinday Drabble

Taehyung x American Reader - 🔥💕

Note: This is purely self indulgent and I didn’t have anything for Tae on the list yet! There is definitely some humor and hopefully some enjoyable smut. The other members do make an appearance. Happy Thanksgiving everybody!

Note note: omg this was longer than expected. I was hella sick for the last two days, but here it is. Hope everyone had a good holiday!

-

So far, the guys seemed to enjoy Your American traditions. Everything from exchanging valentines all the way to hunting for colored eggs and even stealing kisses under mistletoe. You hadn’t had the chance to subject them to the wild day of over eating and taking naps and shopping online yet, however, and it was that time of year. “Kookie, you better get out of the kitchen! I swear if you stole another-“

The Maknae gave you a sheepish, deviled egg grin as he swiped the remaining filling off the edge of his lip and tilted his head. His English had greatly improved, though it still had an adorable accent and fumble to it that made you grin as he quickly apologized. You still didn’t know why he had to speak in English when you had learned Korean. “Noona, I’m so sorry. These egg... things are... so good. We need more.” You nodded, shooing his large frame out of the kitchen only to be pushed back in by another large frame.

Taehyung didn’t care too much to apologize to Jungkook as he shoved him aside for you, only giving the younger man a playful eyebrow waggle, his eyes going up in that silly face he made before he grabbed the ladle from the crock pot to pour himself another cup of apple cider. “This is good. But... I’m afraid I’m going to drink it all.” They were all in and out of the kitchen now, examining the plates you had assembled. Jin and Yoongi were really the only ones allowed since they cooked the most, but it seemed the smells were too much for the others to resist. “Don’t drink it all or you’re gonna be sick, Tae.”

He shrugged, and after eyeing you for a long moment, he retreated. Things had been different between the two of you. Stolen glances, less than innocent flirting and suggestive gestures. You had always known he could be down right dirty, keeping up with even Jimin and Namjoon, but lately it seemed he’d fallen into a habit of making you blush. Earlier, when you’d been found searching the cupboards, he’d all but given you a heart attack when his hand slid up the inside of your thigh to support you.

Originally, you’d passed it off as a caring gesture, one he’d do for any of the guys as well, but the rush of desire that came when he actually hefted you off the counter when you found the can of corn spoke otherwise. Maybe you were projecting your desire for him, but you couldn’t help but feel your body heat when his gaze left you to disappear under his lush lashes. Why did he have to look so damn good?

Could you just eat him for dinner?

“Namjoon!”

The scuffle in the dining area and several mumbled apologies from Namjoon alerted you right out of your wandering thoughts, making you gasp as you narrowly dodged burning yourself on a hot casserole dish. “What happened?” Tae came rushing in to pull off his shirt, the warm drink he’d just served himself staining the front of the white sweater. “Oh no.” You rushed to him, wiping the sticky liquid from his chest with a wet dishtowel before you looked his shirt over. “Go wash it according to the directions. It should be ok if you do it fast.”

He had frozen in place, missing your command while he gawked at your hands on his abdomen and chest. There had been several times the two of you had touched, but never like this that he could think of. Your touch was soft and careful, like you were somehow concerned over him being burned, though he was sure it hadn’t been quite that hot. “Noona, it’s ok.” As your eyes lifted to his, you finally snapped out of it to realize what the hell you were doing. “Oh! Sorry... uhm. Hurry! Dinner is ready.”

Aside from Namjoon, who was cleaning up the spill, you asked the others for help as Tae backed away toward the laundry room, and thanked the heat of the kitchen to explain your flushed face. The guys did not need to know that you were crushing on Taehyung. It would... be disastrous. “Careful, guys.” Hoseok and Jungkook placed your perfectly roasted bird on the table and you clapped your hands. “Oh my god, Norman Rockwell would be impressed. TAE! Put a shirt on and come sit for a picture.”

And so you could fucking breathe again.

The guys sat while Jungkook set his camera up on a delay, rushing back to his seat beside Jimin before he held up two fingers as they posed. The flash of the camera saved the moment in time as you let Jin cut the turkey, the others digging into the dishes. Green bean casserole, candied yams, dressing, salad, potato salad, mashed potatoes, rice (per their request), macaroni and cheese, deviled eggs, kimchi that Jin and Jungkook demanded, pumpkin pie, apple pie, and a caramel cheesecake, what was left of the cider, Soju, beer, soda, gravy, ham, and rolls.

If this wasn’t a carb load, you didn’t know what would be. They better be energized after this and ready to go... though the turkey might slow them down. “So... most of these are things I am used to eating at my own family gatherings. But we added some of your things so everything is balanced! Eat up!” You didn’t have to speak twice, the seven men around you stuffing their faces. Animated chatter had you distracted, but a tap against your shin made you turn to look at Tae, who offered you a bite of ham, rice, and kimchi. “Noona, this is good. Try.” You took the bite, the smirks around the table missed by your eyes.

Tae had voiced his interest in you several times with his members, but he had never really imagined you were going to even come close to reciprocating until now. The blushing cheeked glances and giggles and touches spoke volumes to him about your comfort with him, and he was not afraid to use that to his advantage. “Wow. That... the kimchi... it totally made that better!” Tae nodded and laughed softly, taking a sip of his cider as he eyed you over the rim of the cup.

If you could actually melt... you would’ve.

Between reminding Jungkook to chew his food fully so he didn’t choke and coordinating how to have them put whipped topping on their pie without unloading an entire can on their hands for a trick video for tik tok or their mouths to just eat it, dinner was rather entertaining. Eventually, the tryptophan started to kick in, however, Yoongi being the first one to retreat for a nap. Jungkook and Jimin had attempted to watch a movie while digesting, luring Namjoon and Jin in before they were all snoring.

Hoseok was able to help clean up before he retreated too, and you were sure you’d seen Tae disappear to his room. “Thank you Hobi!” He nodded and shuffled out, leaving you alone. Or at least you thought you were. Humming softly, you began putting the bit of leftovers away, leaning into the fridge. You closed it and turned only to immediately press back into the cool metal, Tae’s face right in front of you. “Kim Taehyung... where do you get off thinking you can just-“

The hungry kiss was not expected. How had he even just snuck up on you?! His lips were needy, working yours open to plunge his tongue past, leaving your reeling. Nope, this was not real. You had simply fell into a post feast day dream. There was no way you were playing tonsil hockey with Tae. But you had to let yourself enjoy it, moaning into the kiss as you threaded your fingers into his messy hair. Being lifted from the floor, you wrapped your legs around his waist and let him carry you, hiding your face in his neck when he proudly toted you past the snoring pile of men on the couch.

Maybe it wasn’t a dream?

The click of his door shutting as he shuffled with you in his arms pulled you from his neck, and he laid you down, lips finding yours again as he climbed between your legs. “You’ve been torturing me all day... and months before that. How am I supposed to keep my hands to myself?” He spoke softly against your lips before he opened his eyes, meeting your gaze. “I... Tae...” He worried for a second if he had read the signals wrong...

But then your hands pushed his new sweater up his back and he groaned softly when you nipped his bottom lip. “I’m still hungry... for you.” If that wasn’t the way to melt your panties you were sure the slick between your thighs was arousal for him then. His left hand pulled your body tight against his, right arm switching as he rotated out of his sweater you so insistently tugged over his head. “Tell me this is what you wanted... tell me I wasn’t wrong.” He was practically begging you to reinforce your attraction to him, and you whimpered and nodded.

Not satisfied, Tae caught your jaw in gentle fingertips, eyebrow raised as if he was waiting for you to clarify. “I... yes. I want you, Tae. God, I want you.” That was all he needed to hear, it seemed, his kiss feeling like it would swallow you up. Who knew he’d be this intense? Well, based off of Singularity, you should’ve known. His hands left your hips to tug your longer sweater dress off your body and over your head. You laid beneath him now in only leggings, leg warmers, and your underwear.

Long, delicate fingers traced the lace detail on your baby pink bra before they dipped up and inward to map out the swell of your cleavage. “Fuck... I can’t believe this... look at you.” He seemed beside himself and you blushed under his gaze, eyes tracing his features. He had gained a lot of muscle over the last few months, looking absolutely delectable. Your tongue and teeth were practically itching to trace every inch of him. And dammit... you meant every inch.

He called you up with the waggle of his fingers before he reached behind you to undo your bra. It took a moment, and he laughed in his frustration before you helped him, his laugh softening against your lips. “I’ve dreamed of this moment, baby. Making you mine... showing you how you make me feel.” His deep voice left you vibrating under him, pressing closer wherever you could for contact. His fingers hooked under the tack of your bra and tugged, freeing your chest from its prison. You didn’t miss the little inhale he did as he laid eyes on you.

Your mind could have never imagined being the reason for Tae’s undoing. He looked so enraptured by just looking at you, but acted like a man starved as he kissed between them, over the soft mound of each as well, before he swirled a nipple with that skillful tongue of his and then all but swallowed it up. The sound you made was probably just as unbelievable because you were sure you didn’t sound like a damn pornstar. “God... Tae...”

He felt the need in your pleading words and use of his name, deft fingertips already shedding your leggings and panties right along with them. He needed to feel you. Instantly greeted by your slick arousal, he groaned and pulled back to watch his fingers work you into a panting frenzy. “That’s all because of me? Damn baby, I should’ve made a move a long time ago... fuck, look at you.” You wished you could. For now, you’d have to take his word for it. “Ah... mhmm, like that.”

“I’ll taste you fully another day baby. Right now I need to fill you up.” He sucked his fingers clean so lewdly that you clenched around nothing, dazed and needy as he stripped off his jeans and boxers. Jimin hadn’t lied. Tae was impressive on all accounts. He was perfectly thick, longer than you’d expected, and the softest dusty pink you had ever imagined. Any other day you might’ve sobbed and begged to suck him off. But right now... you needed him buried to the hilt inside you.

“Condom?”

You almost missed the question, and you sputtered to life, fingers reaching to touch him as you kissed his lips. “No, I’m a big girl. I come protected thanks to Mirena.” He blinked and you laughed. “Sorry... birth control.” Finally understanding, you squeaked when he launched forward, scooping you up to drag you up the bed, before he dipped between your thighs and wasted not another second in connecting your bodies.

You’d never felt so full. So whole. So... stuffed.

“Oh my god.”

He grunted when you grappled with his body, trying to hang on somehow when he thrusted. It was so much all at once that you made a ridiculous attempt to catch your breath at the same time it was being forced out of you. “Are you ok?” He whimpered, his next thrust gentler as you nodded. Your Head was too far gone to form sentences, so you inhaled softly, able to breathe again, and stroked his face. “I’m fine... so big. Fuck.” His smirk was your only warning before he snapped his hips again, with gusto, earning frantic noises from your lips before he tried to silence them with a kiss.

“You’re so fucking tight... damn.”

You were vaguely aware of his arm over you, gripping the headboard so it didn’t hit the wall. Legs hitched up higher, your brain spiraled down into pleasure as he let himself go, fucking you into the mattress. His pace was almost bruising, the poor man having been driven insane over the last few months, wanting you but not knowing if he could have you. Gasping your praises as he pushed you over the edge, you caught the perfect sight of Taehyung losing his mind over how you clenched around him through your blurry vision.

“Fuck baby, that’s it... take it.”

He was so damn dirty, and you loved it. Feeling him empty himself into you after a handful of stuttering thrusts, you fell limp under him, only to be scooped up and held close. Taehyung groaned as he laid back in his bed, letting you straddle him. Hot kisses spread up your throat and along your jaw before he kissed you in a much softer way, almost lazy and indulgent. “I promise I’ll go softer in round two baby... I just couldn’t wait...” you found your words as you laughed, pulling from his lips to look him in the eye. “Wait for what?” His smirk told you something dirty was coming, and he snorted. “You know... like you said about the turkey...” He chuckled at your face, and licked his lips.

“You said it needed extra stuffing.”

[builder051]

Alice’s restaurant

If you haven’t heard this song, go to YouTube and listen to it.  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m57gzA2JCcM

This story takes place in my Steelbridge Sixties AU ‘verse, featuring Vietnam War-era Stucky.  It’s not 100% necessary to read the novella that sets the scene, but it’s here if you’re interested.

_____

Walk into the shrink wherever you are, just walk in, say,"Shrink, you can get anything you want at Alice's Restaurant", and walk out

You know, if one person, just one person, does it, they may think he's really sick and they won't take him

And if two people do it, in harmony, they may think they're both faggots and they won't take either of them

And if three people do it! Can you imagine three people walkin' in, singin' a bar of "Alice's Restaurant" and walkin' out? They may think it's an organization!

--Arlo Guthrie, Alice’s Restaurant, 1967

_____

Bucky wakes with his head aching.  He supposes he should be used to it by now.  He doesn’t think he’s gone a whole day without pain since before the war.  The days when he was too fucked up to be aware of his body don’t count.  And he’s supposed to be getting clean anyway.

The alarm clock on the bedside table begins to ring.  Steve reaches out of the cocoon on blankets to silence it.  Then he rolls over and grins at Bucky.  “Morning,” he says sleepily.

“Morning.”  Bucky tries arranging his face in a smile, but it feels awkward.  He isn’t sure he’s achieved the desired result. He stops worrying about it when his jaw stretches into a yawn.

“Sleep ok?” Steve asks as he sits up.

Bucky shrugs.  It’s easier to sleep in Steve’s bed.  He’s gotten used to the mattress.  It no longer feels gooey under his spine, and it’s a definite improvement from an Army-issue bedroll or a hospital cot.  It helps to have another body tucked in with him, too.  A peaceful face one pillow over to remind him of where he is in time and space.

“It’s a big day, right?”  Bucky rubs the grit from his eyes.

“Yeah.”  Steve opens the dresser drawer and starts pulling on a pair of jeans.  He tosses another pair onto the bed for Bucky.  “You remembered.  Ready to wield a serving spoon?”

“I remembered…”  Bucky echoes.  Most of the time he knows what day it is, but it’s especially important today.  It’s Thanksgiving.  A happy day.  But he doesn’t feel happy.

Bucky mulls it over as he slips out of bed.  Everything at the forefront of his mind is solid, like the surface of a frozen lake, gleaming and ready to run across.  He’s safe.  He’s home.  He and Steve have plans.  But a dark shape lurks beneath the surface, reminding him that all it takes is a single crack for things to turn dangerous.

Steve helps him through the process of getting ready.  They’ve fallen into a routine; Bucky struggles with his clothes while Steve disappears to the bathroom.  He finishes up as soon as Bucky’s ready to join him, leaving the faucet running and Bucky’s toothbrush on the counter.

Bucky wants to ask him for an aspirin.  Ideally something stronger, but he knows that won’t fly.  He hasn’t touched anything beyond weed in almost a month.  Which is a good thing, Bucky reminds himself.  He sticks his toothbrush in his mouth, cringing at the bitter tang of chemicals under the artificial mint.  Too late now.  He won’t want to swallow anything for at least half an hour.

They hold hands as they walk to the shelter.  “No one’ll see,” Steve murmurs as he interlaces his fingers with Bucky’s.  It’s a holiday, and early morning to boot.  The neighborhood is completely still, and even the main roads are devoid of traffic. There may as well only be two cars in the entire town, both parked on the curb in front of the soup kitchen.

It’s warm inside, and already full of the aroma of cooking food.  “Hey, guys!”  Scott looks up from the antenna he’s wrestling into place atop the ancient TV set.  “There’s coffee in the back.  And pie.”

“Pie?” Steve shakes his head.  “A little early for that, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, well, it ain’t just for breakfast anymore.”  Scott fiddles with the knob to change the channel, and a view of New York City appears in grainy black and white.

“Nice one, man.”  Steve claps him on the shoulder, then leads Bucky through the swinging door to the kitchen.

Sam appears to be in command, stirring a huge pot of potatoes while talking T’Challa through the turkey.  “It’s pre-cooked, man.  Stop messing with the oven or you’re gonna dry it out.”  His eyes alight on Steve and Bucky, and he greets them with an enthusiastic, “Happy Thanksgiving!”

“Most wonderful time of the year,” Steve says.  He pours himself a cup of coffee, then raises the carafe and makes eyes at Bucky.

“Sure,” Bucky mumbles.  The kitchen is comforting, both at the shelter and the house.  Like the bed, it’s not a place Bucky’s been lately, so he’s at ease there.  Mostly.  His hackles are up today, nagging at him like the throb behind his forehead, reminding him again of the fragility of his situation.  He takes one sip of the coffee, then decides he’s jittery enough and leaves the mug on the counter.

Steve won’t let him touch the knives, supposedly because his one-handedness keeps him from being able to hold steady whatever he’s cutting.  Bucky knows it’s for safety, too.  He agrees that it’s probably smart.  Sam puts him in charge of the gravy, first stirring the pot bubbling on the stove, then ladling it onto trays when the clock strikes 11 and the customers start streaming in.

Steve’s a chatterbox, too excited for his own good.  He makes conversation with every person in line as he doles out potatoes and stuffing.  Some of the scruffy men reply in kind, but most just mutter “thanks” and look at the floor.

Bucky doesn’t blame them.  He has a hard time lifting his gaze from the oily sheen of the gravy pan.  Making eye contact leaves him exposed, staring down the humanity in the other guy’s soul, just as they stare down his.  It makes it harder to act.  Harder to kill.

“Pour a little extra on here for me, will ya, boy?”

“Huh?”  Bucky blinks down at the slice of apple pie and the shaky hand holding out the dessert plate.  Then at the face behind it; the grin and the eye patch.

“Ugh, really, Nick?”  Steve laughs and wrinkles his nose.  “Gravy on potatoes, gravy on turkey…but gravy on pie?”

“Hey, I don’t comment on what you get up to,” Nick says.  “Come on.  Help a brother out.”

Bucky lifts the ladle slowly.  His heart beats hard and fast, but everything around him is too still.  The extended second of levitation before free fall.

“Who cares?  It’s just gravy.”

It’s just gravy.

I don’t care.  They’re not your rations.

He ain’t gonna eat ‘em.

He ain’t your fucking problem.

Don’t speak for ‘im.  Whadaya say, Barnes?  You gonna eat?

He isn’t hungry.  He doesn’t want to open his mouth, either.  His stomach’s in knots.  Everything in this godforsaken country smells like sweat and shit, even the food.  Even the food they shipped in specially, as if the government needed a federal holiday to give the troops abroad a sharp kick in the ass and call it thankfulness.

“Buck?  You alright?”  Steve’s hand closes over Bucky’s, stilling its quavering.  There’s gravy all over the counter, and Nick’s pie is swimming in it.

“Sorry, Nick,” Steve says.  “Scotty, you wanna grab him a fresh slice?”

“No, no, it’s ok,” Nick says with a chuckle.  “Got what I asked for, didn’t I?”  He takes his food and shuffles to a table.

“Just put it down, Buck.”  Steve murmurs.  He pries the ladle out of Bucky’s grip.  “Alright?”

Bucky’s teeth are chattering.  But he’s warm.  Too warm.  His head hurts.  And his arms.  The one that’s been stirring and scooping for the past four hours, and the one that’s not there.

Steve tucks Bucky’s hair behind his ear and presses the backs of his knuckles to his cheek.  “You feel ok?”

Bucky means to say “yeah,” but instead he mumbles, “People are gonna see…”

“It’s fine,” Steve says.  “Like he said, nobody cares what we get up to.”

Nobody cares.  Rations are rations.

Bucky takes a breath and tries again.  “I…” he starts.  “Um…”

“How ‘bout you sit down and have something to eat,” Steve suggests.  He pats Bucky’s shoulder and turns to get him a plate.

It’s the last thing Bucky wants, but he isn’t in the position to argue.  All he can do is try not to watch as Steve dishes him up.

“Here, come sit.”  Steve finds him a place at a table in the corner between Darcy and Nat.  Some deep recess of Bucky’s brain acknowledges the small miracle of veterans and protesters enjoying dinner in the same room, but the thought is impossible to hold.  It’s on top of the ice, and he’s trapped beneath it.  He’s stuck here, in his body and his memories, while the rest of the world spins without him.

Bucky picks up his fork because that seems like what Steve wants.  As soon as his blonde head bobs back into the kitchen, though, Bucky stands up again.  Somebody asks what’s wrong, but he doesn’t reply.  He can’t.

He leaves through the front door and circles around the back of the building.  A dumpster takes up most of the narrow alley, but there’s a pile of plywood and a soggy-looking mattress jammed into the corner.  Bucky makes for it, tripping over his feet and going down harder than he intends.  His knees smart, but Bucky doesn’t care.  He has to focus, to spit out the words before they turn to rocks in his pockets and pull him down.

Beds didn’t exist in Vietnam.  They did before, and they do after.  Nothing else matters.  Not food, not Thanksgiving.  Just safety.  And Steve.

“You’re…here,” Bucky grunts.  “You’re safe.”  He embeds his hand in his hair and stares at the dirty pavement between his feet.  He pulls in a half-dozen breaths that taste like garbage and winter sunshine.  It’s cold out here.  It wasn’t cold in Vietnam.

“There you are.”  It’s Steve’s voice.  Steve’s shadow approaches, and his shoes edge into Bucky’s visual field.  “Not feeling so good?”

“Hm.”  Bucky sighs.  “’M here.”

“And you’re safe,” Steve finishes.  He sits on the edge of the mattress and lays the flat of his palm between Bucky’s shoulder blades.  “Do you feel like talking about it?”

“Nah.”  Bucky searches for a sentence to capture the gist of it, but the more he thinks about it, the more nebulous the feelings become.  “Just…memories.  And…hurt.”

“What hurts?”

Bucky runs down the list.  Head, stomach, arms, ribs…  The tension in his shoulders holds an exhausting sort of pain.  He usually relaxes into Steve’s touch, but this time his muscles are locked in spasms, sending a nauseating tightness into his throat.  “My arm,” he says.  “My arms.”

“You probably used some muscles you haven’t worked in a while.”  Steve squeezes Bucky’s bicep and runs his hand over the top of his back.  He gently touches the crest of Bucky’s stump shoulder.  “Over here too?”

“Hm.”  The scars are healed now.  Nothing’s wrong with his skin, save the jagged pink marks that have yet to fade.  But something’s off on the inside, phantom pins and needles that prickle like surgical implements accidentally stitched inside. They come and go, fading for weeks then suddenly popping back to remind Bucky of how far he is from truly recovering, how any little thing can ruin him.

Like gravy.

“It’s ok, Buck.  You’re here.  You’re safe…”  Steve says something else, but Bucky doesn’t hear it.  His fingers hit the underside of Bucky’s stump, and the world turns upside down.  The tension in Bucky’s body drops, then reengages in the blink of an eye.  His entire left side tingles.  His vision erupts in stars, and a dry heave bursts from his chest.

“Whoa, ok,” Steve murmurs frantically.  “Ok.  I’m sorry.  I’m sorry, Buck.”  The pressure of his hands disappears, leaving Bucky unmoored and drifting.  Bucky blinks a few times, but it does nothing for the sick vertigo playing around his ears.

“Ugh.”  Bucky wishes he could say something more definitive, something to insinuate he’s ok.  Which he isn’t, but he’s going to be, as soon as he gets his bearings again.

Steve’s breath is quick and concerned beside him.  He’s going to work himself into a tizzy if he isn’t careful.  Bucky lifts his trembling hand and drops it on Steve’s knee to reassure him, to make him feel a little better.  He thinks he feels a little better too.

[imagine-loki]

Irked

Title: Irked

Author: lokilover9 Chapter: #24 Rating:Teen Notes: Movies ~ Crimson Peak, Tom Hiddleston & Jessica Chastain ~ The Witches of Eastwick, Jack Nicholson, Cher, Susan Sarandon & Michelle Pfieffer

Coco made Shandi bold and a tad unpredictable, but most of her sense returned after lunch. One openly frisky move towards Nat or Loki, might sour Clint for the entire mission and have Tony suiting up. Vodka was Nats inhibition crusher and with Shandi ‘her’ weakness, she opted to take it slow. While the ladies swam again, Loki chatted up Clint.

“I’ve chosen hunting and fencing as my hobbies to have in common with Shamus.”

That earned him a look. “The latter I could envision, but hunting? As royals, weren’t your beasts served already cooked?”

“Odin believed the skill to mine and Thor’s advantages. It sharpens marksmanship, teaches alertness, survival skills and other tactics critical for battle. Lost in any woods without food or knowledge of how to catch it, is a death sentence.”

“Interesting.”

“What?” Asked Loki.

“Turns out we’ve something in common. My father took me camping and hunting for years. Did my first kill at age thirteen, a large hare.”

“I was eleven, a small boar, Thor twelve, a wild turkey.”

Clint chuckled at the image. “It’s unfortunate Tony forbade my specialty as means of gaining leverage with Shamus. Archery being his favorite. Too risky for recognition though.”

Centuries prior, advanced sorcery had rendered archery useless to Loki, so his next statement required some pride swallowing. “Perhaps through me, ‘we’ still can. Given I’m under orders to conceal all magic.”

“Wait. Is the God of Mischief asking a lowly Midgardian to teach him a specialty?”

Loki sighed. “Yes and I do not consider Midgardians lowly. I’ve dabbled in the skill, yet long before you were a twitch in your father’s loins.”

“Ask nicely, Cactus.”

“Very well. Will you please hone my skills in archery, Cupid? No pun intended.”

“Consider it done. You’ll need various targets.”

“I’m aware. Should any end up animals however, your gutting them. A ghastly task I refuse.”

“Don’t like getting your hands dirty, Prince?”

“I master at killing and skinning.”

“Then who’d be responsible for clean up?”

“You as well, the stench is nauseating. Afterwards, I’ll season and marinate while you prepare the fire.”

“And just like that, you expect me to comply? What if I protest by hiding the matches?”

“Be my guest. I’m still not removing the innards.” ***** Huddled in a corner of the deep end, Nat whispered to Shandi. “Cavemen Grog and Igor, planning their next hunt. Watch them murder a skunk.”

Shandi smiled. “At least they’re bonding.” ***** “Interesting this connection through marriage with Obadiah’s niece?” Loki commented.

“Very.” Said Clint. “It’s scary imagining the bloodshed that fucker would’ve caused had he taken over Stark Industries. Tony has S.H.I.E.L.D. working overtime, investigating every distribution of his weapons since this began.”

“The goal being they’re limited to America’s military?”

“Impossible, unfortunately. Some were distributed to allies, but it’s no secret the all mighty dollar rules every black market. The right price could easily entice a duplicator.”

“Certainly he thought this plausible, beforehand?”

“Another yes and contracts were made with strict specifications, but I think this Taser issue finally destroyed Tony’s trust in people. She didn’t like it, but he increased Peppers security again.”

“As of when?”

“Shortly before we left.”

Loki was fully aware his return majorly influenced Tony’s trust issues. S.H.I.E.L.D never discovered the Avengers death threat culprits, yet Stark highly suspected some came from home. “I regret my presence the catalyst for that necessity.”

“Tony’s appreciative. He told us about your call, Cactus. Thought it pretty decent.” Clint smirked and shook his head. “I still can’t believe that shithead’s gonna be a dad.”

“Tin Man’s a good human. I think he’ll take to fatherhood well.”

“Me too. Earth could certainly use more benevolent geniuses.” ***** Shandi suddenly untied Nats bikini top and swam off. “Luckily we’re still in the deep end and you’re knocked up woman, or I’d have your one piece over the fence.” ***** “Want your first lesson, Cactus? We can ditch these two for a time.”

“That’s questionable.”

“Nat would kill to protect her if that’s your worry. Besides, I’ve concluded their shenanigans a mischievous farce.”

‘Norns man, how blind can you be?’

They weren’t in the woods long, before returning with Clint rather disgruntled.

“Problem?” Asked Nat.

“You could say that. What took me years to master, took him only hours. Fuck it, I’m returning in my next life as a God.”

“Eh he he he. I’ll welcome that as a compliment, Cupid. Yet of what. Vodka?”

“If the shoe fits!” Shandi blurted from the rec room.

“The Queen of Unruliness has spoken.” Announced Loki. Everyone laughed and when Clint went to indulge, he addressed Nat. “Has she had more coco?”

“Why, does the fallout concern you?” A lazy smile gave her buzz away.

“Explain, ‘handful,’ Kroshka?”

Nat spoke quietly. “That was the first sign of trouble. Brazenness, which inevitably worsens. Then she gets comically affectionate so stay away. Have you set the house alarm yet?”

“No, why?”

“She tends to wander.”

“She what?”

“Trust me, just do it. Oh and no tickling. It’s highly problematic.”

A chuckle escaped him. “How so?”

Shandis voice cut in again. “You comin’ back Natskies?”

“I’ll fill you in later.” She whispered. “Join us. We’re watching ‘Witches of Eastwick.’”

“A personal favorite of theirs.” Added Clint, passing with a tall drink. “Poor old Jack subjected to such a beating.”

“It was long overdue, baby cakes.”

Loki spent most of his evening keeping an eye on Shandi, but not closely enough. After dinner she rapidly graduated beyond tipsy, despite him adding extra ice and less alcohol to her drinks. At one point when spotting her sneaking up the backstairs, he followed invisible and watched her gulp straight coco from a bottle in her closet. ‘Well, well. Thieved from the pantry have we?’ When she left, two were teleported to the Jags trunk, leaving behind the one presently refrigerated. An hour later she snuck off again and returned looking very confused. ‘Not so clever now, are you darling?’

Before the evening ended, she wiped out during a slide attempt down the hall in slippery socks, used telekinesis to accidentally propel a small frying pan at Clints package, meant for Loki’s ass while he cooked dinner, topped a shot of his whiskey off with whipped cream, kept hugging Nat, kissed her once on the lips and tripped the alarm for a dip in the pool. When it first sounded, he was upstairs and Nat was waiting on her in the rec room. Upon meeting at the kitchens sliding door, she was the first to comment on their discovery.

“Damn Cactus, looks like you missed her little strip tease.”

Loki glanced at Shandis clothes on the floor. “Are those her panties in that pile?”

“Aren’t they enticing, so black and lacy? Take a closer look.”

His eyes playfully narrowed. “You’re somewhat enjoying my plight of longing.”

Nat snorted. “A little.“

“Listen Midgardian she devil, why is she so inebriated when I’ve diluted her drinks for hours?”

“I may have helped.”

Luckily Cupid was asleep as Shandi tried luring Nat and Loki out with her. “Heyyyy guys! Come on in, I’m nekked!”

Loki smirked and was about to speak again, when a loud splash occurred. “Did she just…”

“Leap off the diving board? Yep, ya missed that too.”

‘Fuck.’ “Why, Kroshka?”

“Yo Natskies, tits make amazin’ buoys! Come out an’ play!”

“That’s why.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“She’s freaking hilarious.”

“Give her anymore alcohol and you’re sleeping in the truck.”

“Pshh..just for that, you go get her.”

“And risk Cupid venturing downstairs? I think not.”

“He’s toast. You scared of a little boner?”

“‘Little?’”

“Ooooh..she gonna like you.”

“Kroshka.”

“Okay, don’t get your nuggets in a knot. I'll…”

Shandi appeared at the door wrapped in a towel forgotten outside. “You done discussin’ testies? I gotta pee.”

Loki was resetting the alarm when hearing a ruckus from the back stairs and thought them kidding around. Minutes later, Nat seeked him for help. Shandi had lost her footing on the second step down, smacked her injured hand on the landing and reopened her wound.

“She’s in the ensuite.”

Loki gave her a look. “Perhaps you should sleep in the shed instead. We’ve some neighbors residing there, I’m certain would enjoy making your acquaintance.”

“I get it Romeo, now be off. Your damsels in distress.”

He found Shandi perched on the counter with a small towel around her hand. “May I take a took? You’ve torn this further.”

“Yeah, I smacked it pretty hard.”

One gentle caress from his finger numbed her discomfort. “If you aren’t more careful, you’ll stunt the healing.”

“I know.”

Magic re closed the wound, but this time Loki decided to bandage it himself. While preparing supplies, her next words startled him.

“You must think me a moron.”

“Not in the least, Shandi. Yet may I advise you refrain from further drink?”

“I’ve had enough.”

“I’m pleased.” To ease her evident embarrassment, he jested. “Tell me, was there a desired outcome of Nat and I accepting your skinny dipping offer?”

Her face flushed as the image conjured Nats fantasy. “I…no, nothing specific.”

“Oh? All three of us, ‘nekked,’ your natures buoys bobbing above the waves.”

“What waves?”

“The ones my cannonball into the deep end would inevitably create?”

She chuckled, then fixated on how attentively he was wrapping the gauze.

“Your wheels are turning again. What are you thinking about? Try saying nothing specific and I’ll never believe it.”

‘Aren’t my cheeks red enough already?’ “Your hands.” She bashfully replied.

“What about them?”

‘If that hand to penis size ratio is true…’ “They’re big, yet..very gentle.”

After securing the gauze, he softly kissed one corner of her mouth. “Gentle like that?“ His lips then traced the contour of her jaw, stopped beneath her lobe and Shandis eyes rolled back when he nipped and lightly sucked at her pulse. "Or is this your preference?”

“Both.” She breathlessly whispered as her core rippled.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Nat disrupted their moment when entering the bedroom. “Bloods cleaned up in the hall.” One glance at them revealed something was up and she smiled. “I’ll be downstairs searching Netflix.”

Loki helped Shandi down. “Join her, hm? I’ll be there soon.”

She left and snuggled to up to Nat in one corner of the sectional. “Stop staring at me.”

Nat chuckled. “I know that look. You’ve been left wanting.”

“Oh shuddup.”

Loki entered after calming his hormones, stretched out opposite them and Shandi eyed him. ‘Panty melting little shit.’ “I still can’t fathom how you can just ‘poof’ anything into existence.”

“‘Poof?’” He asked, amused.

“She’s obsessed with that word.” Said Nat.

“Will you please show me more of your magic one day?”

Her tone and expression held that childlike innocence he now adored, but wanted to move things along. “Of course. Do you ladies like horror movies? I’ve been curious of a one ‘Crimson Peak.’”

“Sure.” Said Nat. “Although beautiful tends to squeeze the ‘shit out of the nearest pillow or arm throughout.” She smirked at Shandis stink eye and after the movie began, quietly whispered something to her.

“But what about…”

“We’d hear him long beforehand, go.”

Loki was pleasantly surprised when Shandi snuggled up to him instead.

“Can I stay here a bit?”

“You may stay as long as you wish.” The movie wasn’t half over when she drifted off. “Why did you suggest this Kroshka?”

"After all we’ve discussed, haven’t you figured it out yet?”

Loki was ninety percent certain of why, yet doubt forever plagued him that anyone could truly want him. His heart needed that final assurance and he waited for it.

“Shandis right where she wants to be, Cactus. What are you waiting for?”

Those words meant more than Nat would ever know, but he had a plan. “I thought of letting her come to me. Tell me the story behind the pickles?”

The last time Shandi overindulged in coco, was at Nats for dinner. She asked for a large pickle from the fridge and did a selacios presentation of oral with it. When Nat praised her, Clint chimed in. He’d been napping and secretly watched from the hall. “Well done. A talent no woman should be without if you ask me.” Nat said Shandi never turned a deeper shade of scarlet.

Loki smiled. “I couldn’t agree with him more.”

“Not a word, Cactus. I mean it.”

“Never and the tickling?”

“Nope, you figure it out. Just do ‘not’ try it in public.”

"Very well. I’ll take your advice, but will definitely indulge.”

Unbeknownst to Nat, Loki presently possessed another secret. His magic was emitting subliminal messages through the television, to hypnotize her. Once they refocused on the movie, her eyes fell shut and he began.

“You will answer all my questions, truthfully Natasha. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Is Tony withholding any information from me, regarding the Allfather?”

“No.”

“Why must I keep things more professional around Clint?”

“Tony asked us to keep a close eye on your behavior and report back. Clint can’t know anything.”

"I understand.” Having his most worrisome questions answered, obliterated any need to eavesdrop on her and Clint. All further enquiries, regarded Shandi. “Explain the difficult road Shandi has ahead. You said this while she slept.”

“All the secrecy and loss of freedom will make things hard.”

“Explain further, please?”

“When our missions over and we’ve returned to the Tower.”

Her response could only mean one thing. “Have you previously assumed we’d become a couple?”

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

“Since you met.”

Loki’s mouth fell open. “What exactly are you saying, Natasha?”

“Her heart’s never been the same since that day, like yours.”

He froze, not only astonished to learn Nat had grasped his immediate experience, but more that he’d affected Shandi so profoundly. “Despite my behavior?”

“Her beautiful heart had faith in you.”

“Did she tell you this?”

“No…I just knew.”

‘Norns, Pet. Your heavens have sent me an angel.’

“Earlier, Shandi called herself a moron. Does she frequently self criticize?”

Nat deeply frowned. “Only sometimes.”

“You seem angered by this. Why?” Loki thought Nat would admit to loving Shandi. Instead, he received a more intriguing response.

“It’s that word. Shandis mother frequently used it to degrade her and it stuck. Bitch said the telekinesis was why friends and lovers always left them. But Shandi was brave and stopped him.”

“Stopped who and from what?”

“The bitches last lover. He’s why Shandi was abandoned.”

Loki probed further and learned the man had attempted molesting Shandi, but her Telekinesis stopped him. When confronted, he denied it and Shandi was accused of lying. A beating followed and several days later, she was abandoned.

“Exactly how?”

Shandis mother took them by bus, to a large church in a neighboring town. They snuck in as people stood to pray, settling near the back. When everyone sang, Shandi was told to lay in silence beneath the pew ahead and remain there while her mother used the washroom. Mommy never returned and Shandi wasn’t found until later that evening when a cleaner heard her crying. By then, she’d soiled herself and was terrified to come out for fear of harsher punishment. Now Loki understood why she’d gotten so defensive when he teased her during their drive to the Palisades. He further concluded she’d used Telekinesis to protect herself from future molestations and beatings, hence the numerous moves from one home to another.

“Thank you Natasha, you’ve been very helpful.”

Loki finished the hypnotism by putting her to sleep, then kissed Shandis head. ‘Your mother is fortunate to never experience my wrath. Forgive me for wishing her ill.’

Later, he was helping her to bed when a loud thud came from Clints room. “What’s this fixation you Midgardians have, getting better acquainted with floors following alcohol consumption? Even Tin Man’s fallen victim.”

Shandi chuckled. “I’ve yet to witness that.”

“You may never. Pepper’s gotten strict since the last occurance.“

Shandi was pretty tired so they bid each other goodnight. Loki waited a time and after relieving her hangover, received a text. “You awake, brother? I’ve just returned from Asgard.”

“Delivering my progress report?”

“Please don’t, Loki?”

“What couldn’t wait until dawn, Thor?”

“Iris’s father recently passed.”

“How?”

“His Mistress slashed his throat while he slept.”

A wicked grin formed on Loki’s face. “How tragic I cannot express my gratitude.”

“Mother feels the same and sends her love.”

Their correspondence ended, but his grin remained. ‘Ahh, king evil has finally perished. Enjoy your eternity with Satan.’

[oddsnendsfanfics]

UnHappy Holiday

Genre: Fan Fiction (Vikings) Pairing: Ubbe/Reader Warnings: N/A Rating: G Length: Drabble Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: The prompt was: "Can I take a picture of you, so I can show Santa exactly what I want for Christmas?" for the Christmas challenge hosted by @dani-si and @dangerousvikings

"Can I take a picture of you, so I can show Santa exactly what I want for Christmas?" You drunkenly laugh at Ivar's request. He rarely speaks to you, yet here he is with a camera aimed at you - ready to snap a photo of you in all of your festive glory.

"Go for it, Iv." You encourage, striking your best pose. Making sure to show off your ugly Christmas sweater, a request by Hvitserk of course.

Posing for one or two more photos, all of which Ivar will probably use as blackmail one day when you least expect it, you fail to notice the man in the corner watching with the pout.

Sunk back in the arm chair, Ubbe nurses his rum and egg nog, watching as his unusually happy baby brother interacts with you. Ivar never speaks to you, whatever he is up to Ubbe is unsure, but he doesn't like it.

Ubbe watches as you sway to the cheesy Christmas music, humming along with not a care in the world. He isn't drunk enough to join you, not yet. Tipping back the rest of his 'nog, Ubbe licks his lips and stands to retrieve another. Once he finishes this glass, he will cut you off and engage you in a dance or other festive activities. None of which include Ivar.

Topped up, more rum than egg nog thanks to Sigurd's expert bar tending skills, Ubbe returns to the living room to find you've vanished. Taking a drink, wiping his beard to assure there is no frothy white left behind, he sighs heavily and scours the room.

Relieved when he sees Ivar sat chatting with some random friends, Ubbe reclaims his mission to find you. Wherever you've gone, you can't be far. Somewhere between Hvitserk's three Christmas trees, giant snow man display - who has that in their house anyway? - and a few dozen bodies dressed in the fugliest Christmas sweaters that he has ever witnessed, Ubbe finds his prize.

"Well, Hello Mr. Ragnarsson." You giggle, tipping your chocolate milk and spiced rum toward him.

"Hello," Ubbe sits on the floor next to you, back against the wall. "Why are you down here?" More than likely you tripped and didn't bother to stand back up.

"Watching." You replied with a smile. "Have you ever noticed that this time of year brings out the oddest behaviour?" You raise your brow, your eyes wide as you take a drink.

"How so?" Ubbe's curiosity got the better of him.

Licking your lips, you can't help a shrug. "Ivar for example," You point in the direction of the man hobbling around the house with his camera. "He is never this happy, but at Christmas, he is a kitten. He is a little boy all over again."

Ubbe wouldn't bother to point out that Ivar was never a happy child.

"He gets into it." Ubbe agreed. Christmas was the only time of year his baby brother wasn't an outright asshole to everyone.

"Or Bjorn," You squint, the eldest Ragnarsson is here, but not visible from where you are sitting. "He gets grumpy, he doesn't care, and just wants it all to be over."

Bjorn had hated the holidays for as long as Ubbe could remember. Once Thanksgiving came, his older brother was a real Grinch. Something that likely came from being a child of divorce.

"Then we have Hvitserk and Sigurd," You giggle at the thought of the party animal and the stoner. "They love any excuse to party, naturally. But even they change a little. Hvitty is even more wound up, I'm shocked we don't have to anchor him down." You tip your glass, Ubbe following your actions. "And Sig, well...you know he gave me the socks that you gave him last year?"

Sigurd doesn't have to buy for you, none of them do, but he always gives you the worst re-gifted presents. What did he think you'd do with a beard trimmer? Whatever, the thought counted.

"And then we have you," You poke him in the shoulder with a huff.

"Me?" Ubbe points to himself, smirking like the cat that ate the cream. He could only imagine what you were going to say about him.

Ubbe always gave you the best presents. Ubbe had included you in every holiday tradition his family had. Ubbe had even got you a special stocking, to match each one of the family's, to hang on Christmas eve.

You were his best friend and for the last month, his girlfriend, and he was proud of that.

"Mmm." You hum, "You, love, are a magnificent man. But, you're jealous and act like a spoiled little boy."

Ubbe's chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. "Do I?"

He would hold off on pointing out your holiday flaws, as much as he wanted to remind you that in no way are you perfect, Ubbe knew how to avoid a fight.

"You pout and sulk, whenever I talk to someone else. You and Bjorn practically got into a fight last night, when we hosted dinner." You shake your head, trying to put that entire disaster out of your mind.

"He insulted you."

"He asked where the turkey was. Not exactly a crime, when it comes to  holiday dinners." You have a burst of laughter. Ubbe rolled his eyes, you were to never speak of that again! "We invited them for turkey dinner, Ubbe."

And a turkey you would have served, but you had other plans and stupidly Ubbe had gone alone with it. Plans which were far more enjoyable than tending to a turkey in the oven.

"Okay, so other than that..." He tried to find an example.

"Tonight," You answer straight forward. "When Ivar was teasing me, don't think that I didn't see you. Pouting, because Ivar was talking and laughing with me."

"He was flirting." Ubbe protested.

"He was not," You smack him in the arm, rolling your eyes at him. "He was teasing me and taking some photos." You lean into Ubbe, "Even if he was, do you think I care?"

Who doesn't love a little flirting? Of course you like it, Ubbe wasn't foolish.

"Babe," Ubbe began, rubbing his hand across his beard.

"No, Ubbe, just listen." You state firmly. "I don't care if Ivar or Prince Harry comes in here and flirts with me, asking to take my photo. It makes no difference to me, do you know why?"

"Why?" Ubbe wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know.

He had worked hard to get you, not as hard as he would like to think, but he had waited a fair amount of years. The last thing Ubbe wanted was someone else to take your attention away.

"Because I love you, Ubbe Ragnarsson. Not Ivar or anyone else, you." You firmly poke him in the chest. "I love you and everything about you."

“Even if you do get us into trouble, from time to time, I love you too.” Ubbe smirks, leaning in for a kiss. “I'm sorry.”

"I know,” You pat his knee. “Come on, let's go home. I want to get you our of that fucking sweater." You pull a disgusted face, laughing.

 @pathybo , @imgoldielikehawn , @sparklemichele , @titty-teetee , @kirah32 , @kduran04 , @badassbaker , @imyourliquor-youremypoison , @ateliefloresdaprimavera , @angelswannawearmyredshooz , @awesome-as-i-wanna-be , @lilu46 , @fuckyeahalexhoghandersen , @dangerousvikings , @dani-si , @hoeghfabulous

[jackblankhsh]

National Christmas Kick-off Day 2017

With the Redskins battling the Giants, one can't help wondering if some epic story is hidden beneath the surface.  That a football game, or any sporting event could be more meaningful than the simple details is hardly new.  However, notions that perhaps, just maybe, there's an underlying current -- if the Redskins win ancient native gods will rise up, spectral entities emerging in the stadium to slaughter the white devils.  

 Such thoughts creeping into the foreground I find myself rooting for the racist titled team. It's odd to current company, given they've never seen me so enthusiastic about a sporting event.  Even hockey, which I enjoyed enough to play as a youth, I rarely leap out of my seat shouting, "Murder that motherfucker."

 And it isn't until Debbie the bartender passes me a shot to soften my mood, whispering, "You know if those gods come back, you're fucking white." -- I realize I'm rooting for my own destruction.  No doubt.  Yet, I long for it just the same.

 Not from sense of social justice, simply the extension of a booze twisted thought aspiring to indirect suicide.  For it's been a rough run the last few hours.  I don't even remember coming into the bar.  The spiral is circling the drain, though what bothers me most is that I feel an odd guilt not wanting to go down the tubes.  

 Hours earlier, stomach empty and head clear, I took a deep breath then plunged into the maelstrom of family.  Opening the door I literally walked into the barrel of a gun.

 Dad grunted, "Oh, it's you.  There've been robberies."  

 Instead of uncocking the pistol, he uses it to shoot the top off his beer.  Tucking the gun in his pants he waves for me to follow. I've learned over the years not to say no to a man with a gun.  

 In the living room I find my brother.  He looks like a whale beached itself in a recliner.  Seeing me he gestures at his kids.  My nephews and niece immediately spring into action, turning the chair so he can face me.

 "How's things?" he says jolly.

 I shrug, "It's been better, but I can't complain."

 Work is nothing to talk about, not during family gatherings.  I'm sure most folks like to mention job nonsense, however, in my family, such conversations always end with the parental declaration: "You're wasting your life." So it's always safer simply to stay vague.  If the bills are paid, and no begging ensues, that's all Pops wants to know.  

 Besides, I've no desire to inform anyone that selling bootleg porn is not a booming industry. Maybe if I sold it to children, but then I'd have to deal with tweens.  That kind of unpleasantness I don't need.

 Mom emerges from the kitchen.  She hugs me. The aroma of dinner wafts off her, and my mouth starts watering.  

 She says, "It's just going to be us this year."

 "No freeloading cunts," Pops says.  Secured in the ass groove he's honed in the couch, Pops drinks his broken beer bottle.  Nodding in agreement with some thought, he frowns.

 Mom grabs my arm, "Come on.  You need to see the bird."

 I follow her into the kitchen.  She cracks open the oven.  Peering inside I see glistening ham covered in pineapple.  

 Mom giggles, "The turkey tried to fool me by being a pig, but I knew better."

 Crusting a margarita glass with her own blend of Vicodin and Xanax, she asks if I'd like a cocktail.  I ask if she'd like me to fix her one.  Her eyes tear up.  

 "Lord no," she says, "You go watch the screaming box."

 Shooed out of the kitchen I join my brother and Pops.  Intrigued by absences, I ask my brother where his wife is.  The ten minute explanation of her confinement -- too fat to leave the house -- is made less tragic by the farcical fact my brother is trying to sell the house.  Apparently, his family plans to move into a larger home; however, they can't afford the means of moving Momma until they sell the old place.  As such, they've been having open houses with her still confined within.  

 "Mixed results," brother says, "But I'm sure we'll find a buyer."

 Pops grumbles, "Sure you won't."

 I agree with Pops, but in the interest of holiday conviviality, "It's just a matter of sticking in."

 The niece and nephews make their way over to me.  The trio is getting less afraid of me over the years.  They used to be terrified of the death metal werewolf who infrequently visited; and I don't blame them.  I once punted my nephew when he came running at me.  His mother insisted the kid wanted a hug, but I know a dangerous gremlin when I see one.  Yet, as time's gone by we've softened to one another.  I suspect them less of evil, and they trust me to be kind.  So I hug them each.

 Thanks to my brother using them as servers the kids are great at fetching things.  I send them to the kitchen to get me a beer and whiskey.  They depart happily.  As such I can't help wondering what I'm helping them become.  This kind of enabling is never good for anyone.  

 A flash bang grenade explodes in the living room.  When the cacophony clears Mom is standing in front of the TV.  Looking serene she says, "Diner is served."

 Pops and I head off.  The niece and nephews return to push Daddy's chair into the dining room.  The table is covered in an array of food worthy of a billionaire's buffet.

 Gathered together we say a prayer -- Mom improvising, "Lord, we hope the only Lord, thank you for this bounty.  I especially want to thank you for expediting my exit from this evil world of robot mailmen, government vampires, and all around vultures."

 "Amen," Pops says.  Glaring to kill any follow up, he eyes the room like a sweeping dagger.  My brother glances my way.  I shrug, and focus on opening a bottle of wine.  Having trouble with the cork prompts Pops to toss his gun at me.  Fortunately I'm able to manage without shooting the bottle open.  

 Pops says, "Suit yourself pussy," and dinner commences.  

 We gorge. No other term applies.  The feast is magnificent; Mom out did herself.  Yet a certain awkwardness is present.  Pops keeps sneaking a look at Mom, sometimes reaching over to pat her hand saying softly, "Great meal honey."

 Every time he does my brother clears his throat, and I nod to acknowledge noticing. Still, we act like nothing's unusual, continuing to feed until there's no room left in any belly.  There doesn't seem to be anything else to say.  Every time an even remotely serious topic surfaces Pops cuts it off.  It's almost like he suspects backdoor maneuvers aiming at indirect access to some forbidden topic, and in a way, he's right.

 I say, "So I went to the doctor the other day."

 "Fuck your doctor," Pops interrupts, "They don't know everything.  You keep ya dick wrapped, you'll be fine."

 No arguing with that, and no desire to explore it further, not with my Pops, I let the conversation shift.  

 But eventually there's no way anyone can eat anymore.  The nephews and niece pass out in food comas on the floor.  Pops undoes his belt.  As usual I offer to help Mom with dishes, but just as usual she shakes her head.

 She says, "If I don't do it right the sun won't rise."

 According to her I know how to do dishes well enough for the ordinary every day, but don't know how to appease the dish gods on special occasions.  Maybe if more people did the world wouldn't be the way it is. So, offer made and predictably rejected, I leave her to it.

 Pushing my brother into the living room we soon drop into conspiratorial whispers.

 My brother says, "What the fuck is up?"

 "Hell if I know."

 We try not to speculate, waiting instead until Pops enters.  He sees us, the looks on our faces broadcasting our thoughts.

 He says, "Don't."

 "What's up?" I say.

 I can see Pops feeling along his belt line for the gun, having forgotten he left it in the dining room.  Sighing, shoulders slumping down, he trudges to the couch.  Taking a seat he says, "It ain't good."

 I turn my brother's chair so we can both look Pops in the eye.  Impossible tears float in his eyes.  He starts to speak, says nothing, and holds up an empty glass.  I go to the liquor cabinet, fetching a bottle of high octane whiskey.  After gulping a burning shot, gasping through the sizzle, Pops says, "Your Mom is dying. Cancer.  I can't say how long."

 Things start to blur after that.  I took a long pull from the rocket fuel bourbon.  My brother did the same.  Then Pops. Then me.  The bottle going between us until almost entirely drained.

  This might seem arbitrary, a narrative addition out of nowhere, but that's what bad news is.  It applies to no logic, or any convenient timing.  It arrives unexpected, unwanted, and thoroughly undeniable.  The only choice is to accept, or deny, and I have never been one to deny the downside of reality.  It's too blunt to ignore without being willfully ignorant.

Mom popped out to announce desert would be on the way shortly.  None of us knew what to say.  So we said nothing.  We just enjoyed the time together -- the best apple pie in the world.

 And when the night ended, my brother and his kids driving off, I gave Mom a big hug.

 Squeezing her too tight -- she whispered in my ear, "You can't squeeze it out."

 She knew we knew.  

 The night's consumption kicked in, and I found myself in the local bar screaming at a television, believing old gods might be satisfied by a football victory.  Yet, at one point I couldn't help laughing.  Mom washing dishes to be sure the sun rose, her son shouting at a game to change the world -- we were oddly close in that moment.  I knew then, no matter how much I missed her, she would, in a way, always be with me.