#and I ate noodles in his honor

[captain-crowfish]

Happy Tahno-versary, twerps.

[melodymay-k1tty]

MONKEY D. LUFFY BF HEADCANONS

What would dating Luffy be like?

A/N: I thought writing a Luffy's bf headcanon would be fun, so here comes!!🍖🏴‍☠️

I hope it's cool, it was so much fun to write!😎💕🫣

🍖 Luffy-kun! First, that you would be the only person Luffy would trust with his straw hat. Which, of course, makes you a very honorable person and automatically someone of extreme importance in his life.

🍖 Luffy-kun! Your love language would be something like Physical Touch or Words of Affirmation. He would give you hugs often, jump on your back/put you on his back, pick you up out of the blue, bite you sometimes, and of course, say anything that comes to mind, including how much he likes you.

🍖 Luffy-kun! He would play with your hair like a kid, and would probably say things like "hmm, your hair looks like ramen noodles, yummy yummy!" (if it's curly)/"hmm, your hair looks like spaghetti and the barrettes are like vegetables, yummy yummy!" (if it's straight), while smiling and looking thirstily at your locks. Which of course makes you a little scared.

🍖 Luffy-kun! If you fought with him, he would respect your decision and leave you alone. However, he would not eat until you spoke to him again. And of course, he would see it through to the end.

🍖 Luffy-kun! He would make silly bets with you, like "who eats first washes the dishes" (and of course that's backwards, but he didn't even realize it).

🍖 Luffy-kun! He would try to cook for you, and the food would be incredibly bad (he would probably mix the good foods with bits of bones, rotten fish, some crazy concoctions, and the like). Seeing your disgusted face he wouldn't be sad, but happy "Hmm, great, that leaves more for me!" and then, he would eat it all without hesitation. But he would soon see how bad it was, however, it was too late.

🍖 Luffy-kun! When you ate together, he would finish his meal in a split second. Afterwards, he would stare at you food, waiting for you to give it to him or for him to take it from you himself.

🍖 Luffy-kun! He would make handmade gifts for you. They would probably look awful and pretty poorly done, but he would do it with so much love and enthusiasm. You would love it just the same.

🍖 Luffy-kun! If someone messes with you, he doesn't think twice before going after that person and finishing them off.

A/N: I'll probably edit this later, but I'm dying sleepy and just decided to post before I went to sleep. It's still around 01:03am.

Att: I ended up leaving it to post this just today, but I had written it dawn, so it continues in the notes.

I hope you guys liked it!💗🫣

[fistfuloflightning]

Because there was some interest for my Feanorians get blamed for the fall of Gondolin au, have some disjointed snippets from the fic that never was:

Falling stone and the clear chime of silver had Tuor jerking around to find Idril clambering over the rubble towards them. Her hair ornaments were tangled in her hair, ash from the Alley of Roses smeared across her face. Eärendil broke free from his nurse’s hands to cling fearfully to his mother leg. “What of your father?” Tuor asked, voice harsh from the smoke. “He knew the city would fall, and so he took his own life.” Idril’s gaze was blank, and Tuor realized with a grim pang that his wife had surely watched her father slide a blade into his own stomach. Turgon would rather die at his own hand than witness his shame and the fall of his city. And it had all come at the hands of one most dear to the king. Tuor glanced behind them, at the roof of Gar Ainion’s burning temple. He had flung Maeglin from its highest stepshinself, knowing the fall would finish what his sword had begun. The traitor’s body had tumbled down the unforgiving stone, black hair and blood, but Tuor had not seen the end as smoke billowed out between them. His hands had finally purged the filth from Turgon’s family, and its honor was restored. There was no more he could do, not here.

.

The messenger looked half-dead, and no doubt his mount looked equally worn, as he had ridden days and nights without rest to bring them news. That Gondolin… was destroyed. The room was silent after the messenger had made his grim report. The doors had been opened to let birdsong and the spring sun pour in, unsuitable accompaniment to the words of death. The silence was broken by a furious snort. “Fire follows where the Fëanorians go. Apparently no one is safe from their grasping hands, not even Turgon sequestered in his hidden city.” The firebrand that was Gwedhion of Mithrim was not one Fingon wished to have present for such reports, jumping to conclusions based solely on his own bias. “Be not so swift to lay this tragedy at the Fëanorians’ feet,” Fingon said wearily. “The brothers who would incite fire and bloodshed for any perceived slight are dead, fallen beside Dior.” “And you think Maedhros would not stoop to this?” Calaerchon said acidly. Fingolfin’s old war advisor tapped his closed fan against the floor. It was clear in his eyes that Fingon was not his father. “Do not defend him because of your shared blood.” Fingon’s lips thinned. It was an old argument. “I do not defend him. I simply think you leaping to conclusions is sufficient idiocy for today.”

.

Maedhros sat across from the boy, watching as he scarfed down a bowl of noodles like a starving cat. “…When was the last time you ate?” he asked bluntly. There was a furtive look to the boy’s eyes that told him enough. A beggar who stank of corpses and looked like he’d crawled out of a mass grave himself. The way he’d reacted when Curufin had pounced on him had spoken of someone with training—as an assassin or something else, Maedhros did not know. And he would take pleasure in tearing this little traitor apart and examining the pieces at his leisure. But first… A bath, Maedhros decided.

[strawbs-screaming]

☆ WVBA Fanart Stuff ☆

inspired by @ohshy 's bear hugger fanart wall headcanon, i thought it would be neat to see how fanart of the boxers would be in the punch out universe, enjoy my evilness (go check their blog out they are so cool)

Glass Joe

- its either really elegant fanart of him or him with bread

- people keep drawing him in a baguette costume,he loves it

- Just like how tumblr has snatched him up in a second, punch out universe tumblr has also snatched him up

- suprised why anyone wants to draw him (poor Joe doesnt know the internets obsession with twinks or skinny men who are the human equivalent of a wet noodle)

- gets really happy when he sees fanart since he loves the fact that someone liked him enough to immortalize him with art

- Just happy hes getting recognized, i dont blame him tbh

Von Kaiser

- its mostly portraits of him and him with silly mustaches, loves both

- feels honored because people dont do portraits of people who they dont like

- the internet also snatched his german-grandpa-self up

- gets really excited whenever someone draws him, literal yippee hip hip hoorays from this man

- thinks people want to draw him because of his fancy mustache & muscles, partially right but people mostly draw him because the internet sure loves babygirlifiying old men

Disco Kid

- its really colorful & cheery art of him most of the time along with portraits

- admires all the effort that has went into the art no matter what

- the internet also snatched him up, mostly for pose references + being so silly

- will pose for references or drawings if you ask him

- understands why people want to draw him, suprisingly not cocky about it

Piston Hondo

- really fancy art of him meditating or at fancy locations or portraits, keeps being drawn in sailor moon cosplay

- also honored, loves admiring his fanart since he loves art a whole lot & appreciates the effort put into it

- the internet also loves him, also used for pose references + backgrounds and lightning

- give him any irl fanart and he will die of happiness

King Hippo

- mostly portraits of him in hippo island, really happy about it because he loves the fact that his homeland is getting recognized as well

- feels all fancy when he sees fanart

- thanks to this, he looks at fanart of himself when he feels down or insecure

- appreciates art a lot so much, loves encouraging artists

- the internet snatched up hippo island but not him, still happy

Bear Hugger

- basically just what @ohshy said + fanart of him as the lorax or him advocating to protect the trees

- really happy + feels extra excited about the "bear hugger says protect the trees & animals" fanart

- thinks the lorax fanart is hilarious (LET IT GROW LET IT GROW)

- internet ate him up, come on hes too loveable why wouldnt the internet love a enviroment protecting silly man

Don Flamenco

- him posing and/or with carmen, loves seeing fanart of him with carmen, lots of portraits & fancy art as well

- really flattered like omg am i that handsome for you to draw me

- knows EXACTLY why people draw him, he knows what you are

- will also pose for references, really cunty poses as well, slaying

Great Tiger

- toe curling fanart of him going magic and stuff, admires the art so much its unreal

- his fanart has inspired him to get back into drawing

- internet loves drawing him all floating

- doesnt know why people draw him other than all the magic but just says "its because im so hot and handsome ❤️❤️"

- using clones for references, Why pose for 1 when you can pose for them all?

Soda Popinski

- oh my god it is all soda themed, him in a soda costume, him drinking soda, him telling you to drink soda, its mostly shitposting and he LOVES it

- also admires art, especially the shitpost-y ones

- checks out his fanart for a laugh when hes bored

- internet saw him and went "such a goofster"

Bald Bull

- oh my fucking god its so chaotic, 1st place for most furry fanart (2nd is great tiger as expected) normal portraits, shitposting, has had every form of fanart thrown at him

- thinks the normal ones + shitposts are cool, the furry ones however.. oh my god he keeps being bombarded with him drawn as a actual bull since it keeps getting memed + sent to him

- if you ask him if he wants to see your fanart, he'll reluctantly say yes

- his fanarts are 50/50 either really talented or really traumatizing

- secretly admires the furry ones since its obvious a lot of passion went into it as well (totally just admiring the art nope nothing else nuh uh)

- the internet has broken him, still has hope (for now)

Super Macho Man

- shitposts or really colorful fanart, no inbetween, also people keep drawing his mantits + him as a shark

- "people wanna draw me because im so ripped and hot" sorry grandpa its for something else

- loves his fanart & is cocky about it

- poses constantly for the fanartists, accidentally got coerced into junko posing (danganropa cosplayers on tiktok during 2020 having war flashbacks)

Aran Ryan

- 90% shitposts, 10% also shitposts (almost forgot him lmao)

- laughs like crazy at his fanart

- loves all his fanartists with all his heart and would take a bullet for them

- doing goofy poses for the fanartists, none of them will be babygirlifying him today

- internet ate him up as well

Mr Sandman

- really detailed portraits of him, loves fanart with all his heart

- his face lights up whenever he sees art

- happy about the fact that someone took time out of their day for him, that means a lot to him

- oh my god he is going to explode from happiness

- whenever he sees the occassional shitpost art he'll stare at it and try to comprehend the fact that someone really drew him like that (in a good way!!)

[thegeminisage]

readers i am so thrilled to report that tng this evening absolutely ATE. i thought tng was bad but as it turns out tng is good sometimes??? we did "a matter of honor" and "the measure of a man" which are proof of fucking concept: tng CAN BE GOOD!!!

a matter of honor: this is the first time i've been really, really fond of riker. his go-with-the-flow attitude is fantastic. yeah i'll wear the slut costume on the woman planet. sure i'll eat these worms to please the klingons. absolutely i will fuck two of their women at once. good for him. i get it now. I GET IT NOW. he is not only down to fuck is is down to do any and everything. when it rome. so true, buddy. he would've eaten those worms in the conspiracy episode fr

i was just noting how pleased i was that wesley only basically had secondary lines this season ("aye sir" and the like) when they called him to the transport room, but luckily it was just to be racist to that one guy...like, it was stupid, but obviously they were just explaining why they were re-using the prosthetic which turned it around into being funny

picard turning his nose up at the klingon food. WHAT A LIMP NOODLE OF A MAN. IF RIKER CAN EAT IT YOU CAN EAT IT. kirk would've eaten it. don't worry i'm only ragging on picard for this episode he's gonna get his time

whatever worf and riker had going on in this episode was gay. ok gayboys!

riker on the klingon ship...chefs kiss...he was so good. effortlessly parrying the challenge to his authority. conniving to become captain. the word phrase "who's your daddy now" may have been uttered by one or both parties during these scenes, among incredulous laughter. i can't believe he had it in him.

oh and HOW can we forget the klingon women. i actually forgive them for not only the threesome joke but also the breastfeeding joke because they were: fucking hilarious, actually, and felt more like they were punching down at riker instead of women. also i now 100% believe he is prepared to fuck his way through any given spaceship at any time and GOOD for him.

the measure of a man: FINALLY SOME GOOD FUCKING FOOD

still flying high on the endorphins of riker doing All Of That we got to view the poker game, which is apparently the first of many. it was wonderful. i loved data's little visor

episode started to drag when picard's lawyer ex turned up (toscore) bc i dont (didnt?) care about him or his love life, but when maddox showed up i was on high fucking alert bc i knew the name but couldnt remember why

LISTENNN every time he called data an it i gasped. i did call him a bitch several times in a row sorry to catherine. i knew obviously that data was going to be fine but i went on this ENTIRE journey

where do i even start. data resigning rather than submitting to the procedure, his goodbye party, his goodbye to geordi specifically AND THEY SHOULD HAVE HUGGED, augh augh augh

i think it was dumb to make will be the prosecuter if he wasn't going to more actively convey his regret to the audience. all of his goodwill from the klingon ship episode was used up sooo quickly especially when he used data's off button. data doesn't like that!!!!!

i did LOVE however the conversation picard had with guinan...which is bonkers bc apparently it was a last minute addition. but her like oh yeah they're gonna make more datas. entire generations of disposable people and his lightbulb going on OH YOU MEAN SLAVERY and she's like no thats a little harsh and hes like ACTUALLY NO IT ISN'T. it was so good. for the first time tng excelled at something that tos doesn't - like it wasn't too on the nose or pointed the way grand speeches in tos were. it was JUST subtle enough and coming from a black woman who is on tng because of the black woman in tos legitimized it in a way that it couldn't have been as much if, say, picard had come to it on his own. david cage WISHES

PICARD'S EXAMINATION OF MADDOX AND SPEECH IN THE COURTROOM. DID YOU GUYS KNOW HE COULD ACT? hey. did anyone know patrick stewart can act??? he was so fucking pissed off this whole episode and it was kind of nice but like did you guys KNOW he could ACT. when he got in maddox's fucking face about it. GO the fuck OFF i have been waiting and WAITING for him to do this

i loved data's packing things coming back, esp his hologram of tasha yar...she literally took his virginity lol i miss you queen

"does data have a soul? i don't know. i don't know that i have" I LOVE WHEN STAR TREK IS ATHEIST

data forgiving maddox in a sense at the end and maddox switching to calling him he...EYE certainly don't forgive maddox but his shock was so good. realizing something you thought was an inanimate object was like, alive.

also i really like that he forgave riker...i was so relieved they had a scene at the end together and so moved that data could find compassion for him after everything he did that EYE forgave riker...data is genuinely the most loving soul wtf i'd fucking die for him. anyway that made me well up a little bit. what a great episode 10/10 this is gonna be my first "must see" i think

ok! next i do "the dauphin" on my own and then tomorrow we do "the contagion" together

[pastelwitchling]

Could you write a fic where Michael takes care of a sick Alex and understands even more now how much pain he is probably in now that Michael himself has been sick before.

***

Michael had always known that Alex had had fevers in the years they’d been apart. He didn’t like to think about it, didn’t like to consider the time Alex had been sick and without Michael to take care of him, but he knew it had happened.

But that wasn’t the only reason Michael was sticking to Alex’s side like glue now, making sure he was tucked in securely and warmly, dabbing his forehead with icy rags, and cooking up whatever the internet said would help bring his temperature down. No. It was also because he’d been in Alex’s position, so he knew how much it must’ve hurt.

He’d been curled up and sick, too weighed down by his own body to so much as lift his own head, let alone do anything for himself. His nose had been stuffed as Alex’s was now, he’d been surrounded with tissues that had given him the red marks around his nose and lips, whining and groaning for his boyfriend, now his husband.

Except Alex didn’t whine. In fact, when Michael sat at his side with a bowl of noodle soup, his hubby just rolled his eyes.

“Guerin, I promise I’m fine,” he said, and sneezed into his elbow which in turn led to a fit of coughs. “It’s just a cold.”

“You have a fever, Alex!”

“Yeah, that usually happens with colds,” he said, changing the channel until they were watching some Looney Tunes cartoon. He chuckled at something Bugs Bunny did, and again was coughing his lungs out into his elbow.

Michael rubbed his back soothingly, and had a spoon of hot soup ready for Alex the second he resurfaced.

“Mmh—Guerin!”

“Eat, Private,” he said.

“I don’t have the stomach for it,” Alex murmured, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I know,” he said, recounting his own inability to eat, “but you have to. It’ll help.”

Alex groaned, shutting his eyes and pulling Michael in by the arm until he could nestle his head against the crook of Michael’s neck. “Don’t remind me. I hate knowing you were sick and I wasn’t here.”

Michael smiled, amused. “Yeah,” he murmured against Alex’s hair, “I know the feeling.” He kissed his crown and rubbed the base of his spine. “C’mon, beautiful, please eat. For me?”

Alex heaved a long sigh, his breath hot and his body deflating against Michael. Michael tightened his hold on him, hating the feeling of Alex so tired and ill.

“I hate you,” Alex finally said. “You know I can’t say no when you ask me to do something for you.”

Michael smirked, and bent down to kiss Alex’s forehead. “If I have to take advantage of your love for me to get you to take care of yourself, then I will. I have no honor whatsoever when it comes to you.”

Alex laughed hoarsely. “Stop, I’m blushing.”

Michael’s smile widened, and he patted Alex’s back. “Okay, up. You need to finish this bowl.”

He shut his eyes and winced as he straightened up against the headboard. He wordlessly held his hands out, and Michael gave him the dish. As Alex ate, Michael went to replace the ice water with the rag, brought in the air purifier he’d been working on, and piled another duvet on the bed which Alex pretended not to need even as he shivered.

And then, just because Michael knew he couldn’t get sick again and didn’t really care if he did, he curled in close to Alex above the blankets and hugged him close. He let the bowl levitate into the kitchen as he rubbed Alex’s arm and nuzzled his temple, breathing him in.

Alex squirmed in his hold. “Are you smelling me? I’m sick, sicko.”

Michael hummed. “Still feel great though.”

He chuckled under his breath. “If you say so.” He sighed deeply, and despite his objections he hugged Michael’s waist and snuggled in as tightly as he could. After several long minutes, he moaned, “You’re so warm.”

Michael closed his eyes and hugged Alex’s shoulders so that there was no space left between them at all, and, nuzzling the top of Alex’s head, he whispered, “Then you better hold on tight to me, Private.”

***

Happy Malex Monday ❤

[baladric]

Thara/evru smut yes please 👀 although I do agree with what you said before like I also thought he sounded like a bit of a wet noodle and not worth thara's extreme grief. I don't doubt that they loved each other very much and I don't even blame him really for murdering his abusive wife but the fact that he lied to thara about it is what bothers me the most. I know he probably thought no one would find the body but he knew thara would have to witness for her if she was found and he knew what a horrible position that would put him in like being forced to talk to the spirit of a woman he hated and who probably hated him just as much and also thara now knows personally what it would be like to be murdered by evru which is horrific!! Not to mention making everything worse with the homophobic hierophant who already didn't like him and outing him to the whole town.

I guess his only redeeming factors are that I don't doubt he'd be truly sorry and regretful about the whole thing and that thara said evru said he never expected thara to lie for him or put him above his calling so I guess he at least understood how important that is to him and didn't expect thara to choose him over his calling but idk probably not a great dude overall (iana is way better for him anyway!!) I just hope he can eventually heal from all this grief and forgive himself and realise that other people do actually like him and care for him deeply

man see, i'm so torn now between the like original kneejerk assumption of meekness that i got from thara's brief overt descriptions of evru (that nickname we get in witness, evrin after a white deer, oof) and my deepening understanding of the history of queerness and violent homophobia?? plus the cycle of abuse, like. i think evru got the shortest possible end of the stick, and the shit we do when we're in protracted panic mode isn't automatically excusable but it's at least understandable. and i think the mistakes he made might not say much at all about him as a person, except that he was frightened—so i think i'm gonna welcome an alteration to how i think about him. like yeah he super fucked up, several times over (can i joke about an alternate universe where he panicked after killing oseian and confessed to thara, and w/o the pressure of legally witnessing for her thara was just like well shit ok lets deal w this i love u [with some guilt probably, but also thara's fairly dispassionate about shitty ppl dying when he's not charged w seeing them laid to a just rest] and helped him get rid of her body better and then everyting was FINE) but man like.

what if he was funny? what if he was gentle with dinged-up old thara? what if he was tall and beautiful and thara thought of him with the same reverence as ulis's moon? what if he braided thara's hair for him and made sure he ate a square meal regularly?

what if the nickname everin is less about temperament, and more about the innate grace and deliberateness of his movements? what if his ears were constantly in motion, despite all attempts to control them? what if thara called him evrin to tell him that this, too, was beautiful? what if he was broad and strong like an elk, and oseian's abuse went unnoticed by all but thara, because who could abuse a man so big, so strong? after all, men are never the abused—only the abuser. after all, he had been the one to sweep oseian off her feet, and if the passion there had cooled to the public eye, well that was just marriage, wasn't it?

what if evru dalar tried so very, very hard to be a good man? what if he was? what if he was kindness itself, until that one animal moment? what if it was an accident?

what if thara celehar struck him to his core the first time evru stepped inside aveio's ulimeire, there to honor the passing of the old clocksmith, who he'd always liked? thara celehar, pale as milk against the black of his vestments; thara celehar, made fey and strange beneath ulis's moon mask. thara celehar, with the voice like the murmur of distant thunder heard in the dimming afternoon—the sort you know means you'll fall asleep to the sound of rain on your roof, feeling soft and safe? what if safety was so very rare a feeling? what if you didn't quite understand the urge to fall into step with a quiet young man, whose eyes without the mask were blue as hope itself?

what if your friendship surprised him? what if you liked that? liked how it looked on him—surprise, uncertainty, the tinge of pink in his ears when you smiled at him?

what if you kissed him in the empty creche of his ulimeire, filling a space that was meant to honor the unknown? what if he was frightened—what if he was fervent—what if his love washed you clean like that rainstorm of your first imagining?

what if—?

[unremarkablehouse]

Love and Lasagna

WC: 3038 | PG | MSR | S6 | Domestic Fluff | A03

Summary: Mulder decides to cook for Scully in an attempt to discuss their living arrangements and future plans.

Tagging: @today-in-fic

The rich smell of marinara sauce permeated throughout Mulder’s apartment as he checked his well-worn recipe book for the next step. With the béchamel and red sauce ready, all Mulder had to do was layer the sauces over the lasagna noodles and bake. With an awkward care he spooned some red sauce on the bottom of his foil pan and spread it around to make a base layer, smoothing it out using the back of his spoon with a sense of pride. Cooking in general was not an activity that Mulder did often, but tonight was a special occasion and he wanted to show his guest of honor that this simple act of domesticity was something he was capable of. He wondered whether Scully would judge him for buying a disposable foil tray instead of having a casserole dish; but if tonight went as he hoped, all future lasagnas would be made using her pans. Mulder allowed himself a few moments to daydream about what this future life with Scully could look like as he absent-mindedly opened the box of dry lasagna noodles, getting ready to place them in the tray.

The familiar jingle of keys in his lock snapped him out of his fugue state as he nervously checked over the apartment to make sure that everything was in order. Mulder admonished himself for the butterflies that filled his stomach with the anticipation at seeing Scully and talking about the changes in their relationship. Countless dinners and sleepovers had already occurred between them, yet Mulder never stopped being excited to see her. Intercepting Scully as soon as she walked through the door, Mulder kissed her a little too enthusiastically, pressing her up against the closed door in a dramatic sweep.

“Down boy,” Scully said with a laugh as she broke their kiss and pushed his body off her.

“Something smells good in here,” Scully commented as she removed her coat to reveal a snug low-cut top and jeans.

“That’s probably me, I showered this month,” Mulder joked, earning him a beloved Scully eye roll.

Glancing around the apartment, Scully noticed it was cleaner than usual, and Mulder had even set his small table. Scully followed Mulder into the kitchen, fascinated by this new side of him.

“Seriously, Mulder, what’s all this?”

“I told you, Scully, I’m making you dinner. I even got your favorite wine,” Mulder proudly displayed the bottle and filled two wine glasses.

Taking a sip of her wine, Scully popped herself up onto the kitchen counter while Mulder washed his hands, preparing to get back to cooking.

“What are you making?” Scully asked, glancing over the different pots, straining to see the recipe book from her current position on the counter.

“Lasagna, but I still need to assemble and bake it, so it’ll be a while.”

Mulder took the dry lasagna noodles out of the box, getting ready to lay them in the foil pan when Scully stopped him.

“Mulder, those need to be boiled first,” she says, holding up the pack.

“The recipe didn’t say to cook the lasagna sheets though?”

Mulder questioned, re-examining the book again. Jumping herself off the counter, Scully examined Mulder’s worn book and explaining that they were probably using fresh pasta sheets when it was written. Grabbing another pot, Scully filled it with water, passing it to Mulder to place on the stove to boil.

“Nice save Agent Scully, what would I have done without you?”

“Eaten crunchy lasagna?”

“Would you have eaten it if I hadn’t cooked the noodles?”

“I would have tried it. There’d be no way to tell if noodles were cooked until you'd bite into them.”

“The taste of disappointment—”

“Exactly!”

Biting off a dried lasagna noodle, Mulder held it out for Scully to try, but she waved him off.

“I think I like them uncooked. It’s like a flavorless chip.”

Shaking her head, Scully took the box of lasagna sheets from Mulder before he ate any more, carefully placing them in boiling water. Setting the timer for 10 minutes, a thought intruded Scully’s brain, and her forehead crinkled in contemplation. Seeing her pensive state, Mulder prodded, “What?”

“Oh, just working out what we should do with the pasta once it cooks.”

“I have a spaghetti strainer. Shouldn't we just dump the water and noodles in that?”

“No, because they’ll stick together and it’ll be tricky for you to grab one or two at a time to layer them without tearing.”

“So, we need to extract them individually from the hot water...Maybe hang them before we use them?”

Glancing around his small kitchen for utensils, inspiration suddenly hit Scully.

“Mulder! Your chopstick draw!”

“Genius!”

Mulder opened his kitchen drawer filled with extra chopsticks and soy sauce packets from his heavy diet of take out. Mulder moved his recipe book out of the way and started to carefully lay out glasses, placing chopsticks across them to act as a makeshift drying rack. Without words Mulder handed Scully a pair of chopsticks at the timer beeped, signaling that the pasta was cooked. Holding his breath with anticipation, Mulder watched in awe as Scully worked, a smile on his face at the marvel that is Dana Scully. With surgical precision Scully delicately extracted each floppy lasagna noodle from the pot and placed them carefully on Mulder’s chopstick racks. Once the pot was empty and all the lasagna sheets were hanging, announced her success with an exaggerated ‘ta-da’ and bow, receiving an applause from Mulder while laughing at her theatrics.  

Taking her seat back on the counter, Scully refilled both their wine glasses while watching Mulder assemble the lasagna. The care he’s took and the confidence he exuded while cooking was frankly sexy, and Scully wondered if he’d be offended if they skipped dinner all together. He’d only reached the middle layer when Scully spotted him sprinkling cheese and béchamel sauce over the tray.

“A little early to be adding the cheese and béchamel, isn’t it, Mulder?”

“No Scully, that’s my trick to a good lasagna, I add a secret cheese layer in the middle.”

“I’m not going to lie, that sounds amazing. My stomach’s growling.”

“There’s salad in the fridge if you want to start on that.”

As Scully grabbed the salad bowl from the fridge and removed the plastic from the top, she was happy to see Mulder had finished constructing the lasagna and now covered it with foil to place in the oven.

“Alright Scully, 30 minutes and it’ll be cooked. I just put some herb bread in there, too, that should be done in about 10.”

“Sounds good to me,” Scully said, raising her glass in appreciation. Mulder topped off their wine glasses again, amused that they had almost finished the bottle before they’d even managed to eat their salads.

“Scully, do you want to get us some salad bowls? We should probably eat something, given how much wine we’ve had.”

Scully looked up from the large salad bowl that she’d been picking at with a pair of chopsticks and waved off the bowl suggestion.

“I’m fine with chopsticks, but we should probably stay near the kitchen, the bread will be done soon anyway. Here—”

Scully used her chopsticks to grab a bell pepper, feeding Mulder. Getting his own pair of chopsticks, Mulder joined her on the counter. Mulder poked his chopsticks into the salad bowl and struggled to pick up a cherry tomato. Laughing at his difficulty Scully deftly intercepted the tomato and picked it up motioning to feed it to Mulder, but at the last minute popped it in her own mouth with delight. Mulder begrudgingly speared a piece of lettuce and chewed it with contempt. Scully’s skills with chopsticks always surpassed his and over the years she never missed an opportunity to remind him of it. Taking another sip of wine, Mulder was roused from his mellowed state by the oven timer.

“Bread is ready Muldah,” Scully’s voice had taken on a slight slur, betraying her tipsiness. Mulder wobbled over to the oven and awkwardly used some tongs to retrieve the loaf of Italian herb bread. He dropped it haphazardly onto a plate to be sliced later. He was definitely a little buzzed.

“You’ve got to take the foil off the lasagna so the cheese will brown but be careful—” Scully warned a little late as Mulder cursed, clutching the hot foil with his bare hands.

“Probably should've used a dishcloth,” Mulder said, making his way to the kitchen sink to run his burnt fingers under cool water. After a couple of minutes, Mulder decided they were fine and turned the tap off, drying his hands.

“Let me see the Muldah,” Scully commanded, and Mulder dutifully held them up for her inspection, standing between her legs as she checked his injury. Satisfied that it was just a superficial burn, Scully placed tender kisses on each of his knuckles.

“Better?”

“Much,” Mulder smiled, closing the small distance between them with a kiss. Pulling him close to her, Scully locked her arms and legs around Mulder, invading his mouth with her tongue and getting lost in the moment. Instinctively, Mulder lifted Scully off the counter, but with no real plan of where to take her and his coordination affected by the wine, he rocked a little off balance and slowly landed on the kitchen floor. Both of them sat in shock on the floor for a few minutes before bursting into laughter. Mulder’s plan to romance Scully with his cooking had gone off the rails.

“I think we need to eat something to soak up this wine.”

“Agreed, we’re definitely imbrevey...inebro...inebriated,” Scully smiled, proud she got her words out, but also decidedly drunk. Mulder blindly reached a hand up to the kitchen counter and groped around until his hand came in contact with the warm bread. Dragging it down to them Mulder pulled off a chunk and proudly offered it to Scully. Even while drunk, Mulder encouraging her to eat a chunk of bread he pulled out of nowhere gave Scully pause and she looked at it skeptically. The decision was made for her. Mulder, amused by her hesitation, decided to speed up the process and pushed the bread into her mouth. Despite the volatile way that it was delivered to her, the warm bread and herbs hit the spot, and Scully found herself moaning appreciatively.

“This is really good, Mulder!”

Having finished her wedge, Scully couldn’t contain her laughter as she watched Mulder holding the remaining loaf vertically between his two hands, taking bites from the end like an overgrown raccoon. The sound of her laughter made Mulder look up from his meal, cluelessly offering her a bite of the bread. When she refused, Mulder resumed happily munching on the loaf of bread once more. The oven timer dinged, and Scully awkwardly got up to remove it from the oven, impressed by the smell and beautiful brown color. Placing it on the counter to cool, Scully grabbed both wine glasses, plonking back down on the floor next to Mulder. With only a small hunk of bread left, Mulder eagerly set their wine glasses aside, shoving the chunk into Scully’s face before wiping his greasy hands onto his jeans.

“Mulder, you’ve really got to stop shoving food into my face,” Scully halfheartedly scolded.

“But it’s romantic to feed your lover!”

“It’s not romantic if I choke,” she warned with a laugh.

Snuggling into Mulder’s side, both relaxed into each other’s arms.

“So, Mulder, you never did tell me what this night was all about?”

Mulder had wanted to use tonight’s dinner to discuss the logistics of starting a family with her, but given they were both a little drunk, he decided to try to put the conversation off until after they’d eaten. Attempting to throw her off the scent, Mulder declared, “Happy Anniversary Scully!”

“Anniversary of what?”

“I don’t know. We’ve known each other for over six years, take your pick. The anniversary of destroying your clothes while chasing a mutant?”

“I don’t think we should celebrate that.”

“Well from now on, it could be the anniversary of us getting drunk in my kitchen the one time I attempted to cook for you.”

With a laugh Scully raised her wine glass to Mulder, “Now that, I’ll drink to!”

Cuddling back into Mulder’s chest, he placed a soft kiss on her head before asking, “do you think the lasagna has cooled down enough to eat? I’m still hungry.”

“It should be. Just be careful when you go check on it.”

With a groan, Mulder pushed himself onto his feet and over to the lasagna tray. Using his index finger, he cautiously poked into it.

“Mulder! Use a fork or something,” Scully admonished with an amused laugh. At least he wasn’t eating evidence at a crime scene again.

Mulder grabbed a fork and stabbed at the lasagna, satisfied it made its way through with minimal resistance. He speared the little section he’d prodded with the fork, capturing a chunk of the lasagna, and putting it in his mouth. The flavors were perfect, and to his relief, it had cooled down enough not to burn him. Looking over at Scully on the floor he teasingly asked, “okay woman, should I attempt to get this on some plates, and we'll move this party to the table?”

“I’m comfy. Just grab me a fork and we’ll eat it here.”

At that moment Mulder couldn’t have loved her more. Scully always managed to surprise him, but their romantic evening deteriorating into drunkenly forking the contents of a lasagna pan from his kitchen floor was just the kind of chaos he cherished. Grabbing some extra dish towels and a fork for Scully, Mulder proudly presented the pan to her, setting it on his lap while encouraging her to try some.

“Mulder, this is amazing! Great job,” Scully said, enthusiastically savoring her bite while Mulder watched, before eating more himself.

They contentedly ate in silence, managing to consume a sizable portion of the tray before Mulder finally spoke.

“Scully, what’s going to happen if we have a kid?”

“I think we’d probably eat at the table, but I’m sure you’d still manage a few kitchen floor picnics with us.”

That thought made them both smile, but Mulder pushed forward, needing a clearer picture of what the living arrangements would entail.

“No, I mean, would you move in here? Do I sell my apartment and we get a place together?”

“Do you want to live with me?”

“I do, but I’m worried you’ll get sick of me and need your space.”

“Oh, I know I’ll get sick of you, but I don’t think space is a luxury you get, as parents. To put it in basketball terms, I see our best strategy is a zone game instead of man on man. Or are you worried you’ll get sick of me?”

Reaching over to give her a kiss, he replied, “you just made a perfect basketball analogy to describe parenting styles, I could never get sick of you. Maybe I could move into your place, and we’ll rent out my apartment, or use it as storage?”

“Fox Mulder, you just want to avoid packing!”

“Of course, why do you think I bought this place when the building converted to condos?”

Standing up off the floor, Mulder offered Scully a hand and they made their way to the couch. Scully grabbed them glasses of water while Mulder took command of the VCR.

“Scully, your choices are that Hungarian documentary you wanted to watch, or The Breakfast Club?”

“I’m still too tipsy for subtitles, let’s watch The Breakfast Club.”

Satisfied with her choice, Mulder took his position lying down on the back of the couch while Scully snuggled in front of him. Handing him his glass of water Scully silently instructed him to drink it.

“Scully, who did you relate to from The Breakfast Club? Molly Ringwald?”

“Just because we both have red hair? No, I was never the spoiled princess type. I was more of an outsider like Ally Sheedy. I didn't get detention though; I was smart enough not to get caught. What about you Mulder? Wait, let me guess. Everyone saw you as the Emilio Estevez type, but you were secretly a rebel like Judd Nelson at heart?”

Scully’s guess elicited a genuine laugh from Mulder.

“Not even close, you give me way too much credit. I was Anthony Michael Hall; gangly nerd all the way.”

“But I saw your yearbooks, you were a big basketball star. Your mom showed me all your high school pictures.”

This little tidbit of information was news to Mulder, since when did Scully hang out with his mother?

“When did you even see my Moms? Where was I?”

“That time you stranded me at her house a few years back.”

“I was drugged!”

Scully chuckled at Mulder’s response. He nuzzled her neck, offering a soft apology with a kiss.

“Even though I played basketball, I was still an awkward nerd. I hung around lots of girls who only liked me as a friend.”

Scully giggled at the picture Mulder painted of his nerdy high school past. Silently, she hoped that any of their future children would inherit his sweetness and good heart.

“Scully, did your high school have Saturday detention?”

“I don’t think so, did yours?”

“No, but if I was a teacher and I had to come into work on a Saturday to supervise a detention I’d be pissed off, too.”

“You’re officially old Mulder, you're sympathizing with the adults in this movie.”

Mulder playfully swatted Scully’s hip at that comment.

“Watch it Scully, or you won’t get  any dessert!”

Mulder had uttered magic words and Scully suddenly perked up.

“Dessert?”

“Mm-hmm...I have a tiramisu in the fridge. When the room stops spinning, I plan on eating it off your chest.”

Rolling around to face him, Scully solemnly said, “actually, I think it would taste better if I ate it off you, Mulder.”

Scully raked a hand through his hair and nipped at his lower lip, eliciting an excited groan, “either way, this is turning out to be a messy night!”

[surftrips]

Just My Type — Chapter Four (Jay Halstead x woc!Reader)

Word Count: 1155

Chapter Summary: Dr Y/L/N has been growing distant from Jay Halstead, and that doesn't go unnoticed by him.

A/N: Sorry for taking so long to get this last chapter out! I am pretty satisfied with this ending, but if this does well then I might post a few headcanons for the two characters (sort of like an epilogue). Enjoy!

CHAPTER THREE / SERIES DESCRIPTION

It had been weeks since you last assisted Intelligence on a case. You didn’t mind, though, because you were busy enough with your work at Med. With Dr. Charles in and out of the office due to personal reasons, your caseload grew heavier by the day. 

“Hey, you okay? You seem kinda stressed out,” Dr. Halstead asked you. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine…” you responded, trying to convince both you and him that you weren’t totally in over your head. 

He nodded, “Well, just thought I’d let you know that my brother has been asking about you.” 

You stopped and looked up from the open manila folder in your hand. “What for?”

“He just wants to know how you’ve been, he heard about Dr. Charles so he might come by later and drop off some coffee,” Will replied nonchalantly. You were trying to decide if he knew something else was going on… if he could somehow sense that there were more than platonic feelings involved between you and his brother. 

You decided that he didn’t, that he was just being a good brother and relaying a message. “Oh, that’s nice of him. Tell him he really doesn’t have to if he’s busy, I’ll survive.” 

“Got it,” he was about to walk away, but not before adding, “You know, I can tell he really cares about you.” 

Why!! Why did he have to say that?

The conversation that you had with Hailey and Kim weeks ago replayed in the back of your mind during all hours of the day, no matter how much you wanted to forget about it. We can tell that he really likes you. That’s what they told you.

And now, his own brother was saying that he cared about you. What did all of this mean?  

You really couldn’t allow yourself to believe that Jay Halstead actually had feelings for you. Platonic feelings? Sure. Romantic ones? Absolutely not. You did not want to lead yourself into a trap that only ended in disappointment and heartbreak. You had seen this film before, and you did not like the ending. 

—

A few hours into your shift you heard a knock on your office door.

“Delivery!”

You looked up abruptly because one, you didn’t order any food, and two, you could recognize his voice from anywhere.

“Jay, what a surprise! You didn’t have to bring me anything,” you said. 

“Oh, but I did. Will told me about how stressed you were and you’ve been so helpful with my cases that this is the least I can do,” he replied, holding up the bag of takeout food from your favorite restaurant. How did he know that? 

“Ugh, you’re the best. Seriously. But I’m going to have to have a talk with Will about going around telling people my business,” you joked. 

He laughed, “I would hate to be him. I’m honored to be your favorite Halstead brother.” 

“Hey, when did I say that?”

“Just now, by expressing your hatred for Will.”

“Okay, now you’re just putting words in my mouth!” You giggled.

Jay’s face lit up. It didn’t take someone with a psych degree to see that. 

“Are we going to eat or what?” he asked.

“Don’t you have to be back at the district?”

“They don’t need me right now. I told them I had important matters to tend to,” he smiled smugly. 

“Well in that case…” You grabbed the takeout bag from him and began placing the cartons on your desk, careful not to mess up the documents dispersed throughout. 

For a while, you two ate in silence. You didn’t realize how hungry you had been until you had wolfed down an entire carton of noodles in record time. 

Jay was the first one to speak. “Hey, can I ask you a question?” 

“Yeah, what’s up?” 

“How come you never text me anymore? I know you’ve been busy and all, but you used to check in on me or meet me at Molly’s. I can’t remember the last time I saw you there.”

You fought back the urge to respond with, What do you care? You’re the one who told me to keep things professional between us! 

“Oh, I’m sorry. It’s like you said, I’ve just been busy and all.”

He looked like he had something else to say, but continued picking at his food. After a while, it seemed like he had worked up the courage to proceed with whatever he had in mind. 

“It’s just that… I feel like things have been different between us. Like we hit it off right away, and suddenly, one day, you stopped texting me and I stopped seeing you at the bar and I don’t know, I guess I’m just trying to tell you that I’ve missed you. That’s all.” 

Now it was your turn to be silent. You stared at your psychology degree hanging on the wall behind him. Come on, you thought to yourself. He is displaying all the signs of someone who is interested in you, what’s not adding up?

You took a deep breath and decided to be brave, “Jay, things changed between us the day you told me you wanted to keep our relationship professional. I’ve been distant because I don’t know if I trust myself to keep it that way. I like you, a lot. But I know I’m not your type and…” 

He interrupted you, “Wait- what do you mean you’re not my type?”

“Let’s be real. Look at me and then look at all the women you’ve dated. I don’t exactly fit the whole ‘blonde hair, blue eyes’ look.” 

“Wait- you like me?” 

“Yes, you idiot.” God, he was clueless. You had all but confessed your love for this man and he was stuck on the wrong details. 

“God, I wish I knew. I wish I knew you liked me.” This caught you by surprise. If he knew… would things have been different? 

“Y/N, I said all that stuff about professionalism at Molly’s because I wanted to protect you. And myself, in a way. I liked you… a lot. And it was scaring me, because well, as you know, I haven’t exactly had the best track record when it comes to relationships. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship and risk losing you, I figured if we didn’t date, we would always be friends.” 

“Jay… that’s not for you to decide.” You were tired of people trying to protect you because they thought they knew what was best. “I am perfectly capable of ruining my life by my own accords.”

He laughed at this. “I have this bad habit of ruining things myself, but I was always mad at myself for not at least trying with you. I really think we can work it out, even if I think you’re too good for me.” 

“Honestly? I probably am, but I think you’re worth a shot, Jay Halstead.”

[khaleesiofalicante]

"I stand in the mess of myself" -Colum McCann

That first timeline was so soft and lovely and kdvskdjif I AM GETTING TOO MUCH FLUFF ITS GETTING CONCERNING

The scene with Max and Rafe made me 🥺🥺

Jia is the only president I will ever love😎

“Am I still the prettiest man in the world?” Alec chuckles. Magnus bops his nose. “Always.” I'M DYING💙💙💙

Jdhskdbidjd Magnus is unhinged as fuck lmao

Communication is so sexy tbh

The way I love these two-

Magnus making sure Alec knows how important this is and that he deserves all the recognition- just...fuck

Alec looks at him. He smiles at Magnus. And there it is. The higher power. Malec comparing each other to some higher power is my favorite thing EVERY OK?!?

“Perfect enough to put inside my heart.”💙💙

Alec practically runs out of the door. Magnus chuckles to himself and follows through. Who said being horny can't be productive at the same time??

“Oh for fuck’s sake! Can’t they like walk home?” Alec demands. “Max is six.” “So? He has legs.” My man has priorities jdhdkdjdl

Empathy is so fucking beautiful and sexy 😍

Max is a cheesy little shit and I am love him!!! He is just so innocent and cute🥺🥺🥺

In timeline two Max was indeed acting like an asshole. I mean he was waiting for David to text him and go to that party but it didn't happen😭 Still, asshole behavior

Honestly tho Alec has every right to decide what to do and if he wants to move on or not. Why do people forget that???

He forgot about his promise. It’s fine. Not all of them are Lightwood-Banes anymore anyway. AHH JUST STOP THE PAIN😭😭😭

“So that’s why it ended, huh,” Alec hums. “Raisins and bad luck.” Them talking here is kinda sad but also you can see how they are trying to heal and that is beautiful!!

Elyaas is so done with them and I can't blame him smh

Yall are terrifying together, love. Have a nice day :)

That was so fucking sad but I'm so damn glad they could talk to each other!!!

“I won’t let anyone hurt the blue-eyed boy.” “Good,” Alec smiles. “We won’t let anyone hurt you either.” THEM>>>>>

Them taking comfort on each other and knowing they can rely on the other to help them through this all is the most amazing thing ever and in this essay I will-

Omfg I love their reactions when Max told them about moving to London. Both of them went like ✨No :)✨

Max taking over Edom!!! I fucking knew it!!!!! Hell yeah let's go!!!!

His fake binder is honestly a mood af😎

“I just think it could be different. It’s like how Rafael wants to be a politician because he wants the government to be different.” This parallel is *chef kiss*

No thoughs, head empty except ✨mavid kids✨

“Shinyun Jung. Will you do me the honor of being my mentor?” kdvwkdkdlebi loved this so much. She indeed has big dick energy 🥰

Shinyun and Max living and working together, being competitive and skilled little shits its my favorite aesthetic💙💙 also Noodle???? I want to met them!!!

He would make such a gorgeous Prince of Edom and I think David can agree ;)

I love how Shinyun and Alec are like: I don't trust you but I trust Magnus so I'm going to behave idheieejek

And that’s what matters, doesn’t it?

That we all learn to care about something more than ourselves.

Maybe it’s a person. Maybe it’s a place.

It doesn’t matter.

Not as long as we care.

✨A FAVE ONCE AGAIN✨😍😍

“Take it,” Magnus says. “Take some of my strength.” not this parallel too, please it's too much udhdkdjdld

For two grown up men who have really qualified jobs and are successful... They sure are idiots!!!

Can we talk about how the whole scene with Izzy and Maryse was so fucking accurate and true??? ✨God, I love women ✨💙💙💙

No, you don't understand. They love LOVE each other!! Yes, that's a valid reason to scream😭

HE ATE THE FUCKING RAISINS!! OMFG HE HATES THEM!! SCREAMING AND CRYING I WILL NEVER RECOVER

What is love if not eating each other's raisins when needed?

And finally: YOU GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME DANI! I AM IN PANIC AND I TOTALLY BLAME YOU! WHY DO THE BEST CHARACTERS SUFFER SO MUCH?!?!😭

I will go scream in my room brb. And yes I'm still one chapter behind what about it?? jk, jk😂

Song rec: No Goodbyes by Dua Lipa

So in conclusion:

Women? Yes.

Raisins? No.

Wonderful life lessons 🥰🥰🥰

This is Max working for Edom like

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

TW : difficult relationship with food?, mentionned eating disorder, child neglect, child abuse, ableism

Can you help me understand my relationship with food better? I don't think I have and eating disorder, but I've become concerned when piecing together my childhood trauma and current relationship with food. I don't really know what to think of it.

I've been forced to stay hungry for long periods as a kid because my parents very rarely allowed snacks between meals, and the meal times were very strict. When they offered snacks, it was often nuts, "organic" cookies with poppy seets and vague lemon flavor - not great when it's your only option. They'd even withhold food when we were hiking for a long time because we "hadn't found a good spot yet"...

My dad also has some very unhealthy ideas about food, I suspect that he might fit the criteria for anorexia. He rose me with these ideas, obviously. He believes that forcing yourself endure pain is honorable, in general - he already got himself sick at some point from working out constantly and eating very little. That being said he also pressures me and my sibling to eat less just because he wants to spend less money.

As a child I would sneak anything edible in my room. I hid chunks of salt in tissues, raisins in some box I had in my room... My dad even found the bowl of noodles i hid in my nightstand as a teen (glad I didn't eat that honestly). I even had a bottle that ended up spoiling which resulted in a lot of guilt.

I only had free access to food at one of my grandma's, when I stayed at her place I could eat anything anytime and it felt good. She had snack / candy drawers and I'd pick what I wanted, but I know I also probably ate too much of it at once. It felt like I was rushing to eat because I finally could. This was when I was a teen, I wasn't a toddler or a child anymore.

I also always ate lunch at school from primary to end of highschool and since I'm autistic it was traumatizing. I would be hungry most of the time because my body pretty much refuses any food that doesn't feel right.

My parents also pressured me into eating foods that felt horrible (I was not "scared", I knew what it tasted like and I just couldn't). So I'd end up not always eating enough at family meals, too, when I had the chance. My parents never accomodated my disability and this includes food sensitivity. I'm 20 now, and I eat what I want around the house and I've learned to cook. I pack my own meal when I commute to uni, and I finally eat foods that feel safe. Still a lot of depressing ingredients but I make it work.

However I have a hard time handling hunger, I am always drawn to fat and especially sugary foods. I got my first cavities ever in the past 2-3 years, basically when I started this new way of life.

I also have quite a bit of gut problems, I will see a doctor soon I think but basically I rely on butter, pasta, bread and rice to fill me up. I can't pack meat/eggs because it would spoil, and I try eating vegetables often but it doesn't always help (and the fresh veggies are like... carrots, carrots again, carrots... carrots again with some carrots on the side - these are not a safe food so.. yeah). I do eat more nuts lately because I need to chew on something when studying, and it does help with the hunger.

I feel like I don't understand how to feed myself healthily (without being restrictive like my parents were bc it's all they taught me).

I have ways to deal with the material signs of this relationship with food, so I'm more interested in the core problem. Could you help me with this? Also if you have resources I'd be happy to see them. Thanks a lot :)

Hi anon,

I would ultimately recommend asking an ED-informed therapist or nutritionist about this. I know that maintaining a healthy diet after experiences like those is not an easy thing to do, and I don't want to give potentially counterintuitive advice.

I think a therapist could help in getting to the core problem of your complicated relationship with food, especially as a professional who will know what they're doing much better than an inexperienced volunteer. A nutritionist or dietician may help in the actual application of a healthier plate.

I hope I could help at least a little bit. Best of luck with everything and please know that you're welcome here if you need anything.

-Bun

[spidaeyaunt-movedd]

i will not be accepting any compliments unless you're a 70+ year old korean woman who finds out im dating a woman and her response is "good, she's too good for men. it's what she deserves. "

[sweetestlamb]

Infatuation

Summary: Yi-jin has no sense of personal space.

Author's note: So many cute moments today and I couldn't resist writing this fluffy sickening fic. I'm gonna enjoy the bliss they're in and ignore all the warning bells in my mind. Enjoy!

The worst part about having feelings is the constant awareness that comes with your realization of your feelings. Her mouth instinctively chews the warm tteokbokki but her sense of taste is overwhelmed by her sense of touch.

Somehow they'd all ended up in Yu-rim's family restaurant again, starving after another long day of school. She'd spent the majority of it sleeping on her desk and training with the other fencers. Ji-woong had been the one to mention getting food and almost simultaneously they all started naming what they wanted to eat.

Rice cake!

Noodles!

Steak!

Everyone had looked at her like she was insane. Whatever steak was delicious.

Ji-woong's eyes sparkled lovingly as he asked his girlfriend if should eat at her restaurant.

"Is it too soon to introduce myself as her future son-in law?"

Yu-rim had turned nearly purple at the teasing remark slapping him wildly as he chuckled and tried to hug her to stop the onslaught. They were disgustingly cute now, always looking starry eyed at each other and giggling at jokes that no one else understood.

Seung-wan had walked away ignoring their loving display, her nose in a book and her brows furrowed. Something about the history of corporal punishment in school. It looked difficult and her brain hurt just imagining reading something like that.

She'd tugged out her phone pushing in numbers that she knew by heart now. The call connected after two rings and she said, "We're getting good at Yu-rim's restaurant. Come with us."

"You know I'm not some kid who has free time to do as I please right?"

She rolled her eyes.

"You think I have a lot of free time? I'm an Olympic medalist you know."

He chuckled on the other end, deep voice somehow deeper through the phone. Calling him was always a risk.

"Getting cocky now? I should be honored that someone so important wants to see me. I'll come right over my Olympic gold medalist Na Hee-do."

Her heart skips a beats at the warmth and pride in his voice.

My Olympic gold medalist.

She's too flustered to respond but thankfully the group realizes who she's talking to and they all begin to shout messages into her phone.

"Sunbae please join us for a meal!"

"Hyung, you'll play right? We're just broke high schoolers!"

"Yi-jin oppa, mom says you haven't visited in a while!"

He doesn't put up a fight and she could barely contain her glee as he walked around the corner, messenger bag still slung across his wide shoulders.

He waved at them and she waved back, eyes locked on each other.

Yu-rim's mom was overjoyed to see them all, smiles and hugs thrown their way. It must have been nice to have a mom who was so expressive and free with her affections.

"Sit, sit." The older woman motioned at a table, already turning to go to the kitchen and get their food ready.

The table had six chairs and Yu-rim and Ji-woong immediately sat next to each other. Surprising to no one at all, shyly looking at each other as they tried not to sit too close. Leaving an empty seat next to Seung-wan and Yi-jin. It wasn't a hard decision but she questioned herself. Second guessing if it would send the wrong message.

I shouldn't sit next to him. We're not a couple like them, there's no reason to sit together. People might get the wrong idea too. Okay it's settled I'll sit next to Seung-wan.

Taking a deep breath in she moved to grab the seat, pulling it out. But almost immediately Yi-jin placed his bag on it, she looked down at him in surprise blinded by the huge smile on his face.

"I haven't seen you all day. Sit beside me."

Her mouth fell open in shock as he took her hand and guided her into the seat next to him, pulling the chair out for her then unfolding a napkin to place on her lap knowing how messily she ate.

She barely jumped as he slide an arm across the top of her chair. Easily invading her personal space and she felt her throat dry up as nerves swam through her veins.

"How was your day?"

She'd mumbled out something about doing nothing and training speaking barely above a whisper and then watched in fear as he leaned closer.

It was Yu-rim's mom bringing out the food that saved her from this seemingly innocuous moment that was causing her heart to pound and her cheeks to redden.

She'd looked up expecting everyone's gaze on them. Surely they would all think they were being too comfortable and ask them why they were sitting so close to each other.

But Seung-wan was eating with one hand and holding her book with the other. So she switched her gaze to the happy couple but they were firmly lost in each other's eyes. Ji-woong attempting to feed an embarrassed Yu-rim who kept sneaking glances at her mom obviously terrified that she would see and know that her daughter was dating.

Nobody seemed to care that Yi-jin was sitting so close to her that she could feel his skin against hers every time he leaned forward to eat.

She jolts at the feel of something against her face, turning to the man next to her in confusion.

"You eat like a little kid I swear. Look at me."

He takes her face in his large hand, cupping her cheek and guiding her to look at him before wiping at the side of her mouth. He's staring intently at her face as he cleans her and she feels like she's going to faint from the casual touch.

"There all done."

Then easy as day he goes back to eating, like he didn't just tilt her world off its axis.

She has no choice but to continue eating as well.

Nobody seems shocked when they're all saying good bye he tells her that he's walking her home and he throws an arm over her shoulder, telling her about his day and the trials and tribulations of a sports reporter.

She listens carefully hands itching to wrap around his waist but instead she glues them to her sides.

The next time she sees him, it's at the comic book store.

A new volume of Full House is out and she decides to read it right there on the floor legs criss crossed just like when she was younger. She's completely lost in the book- if only they could add this to the school curriculum she would be the top student easily- when a shadow hovers over her blocking out the bright sunlight streaming in from the window.

"What's that?" She speaks to herself, dog earring the book to look up and instant smile forming at the familiar face.

"A student should be studying on the weekend. What are you doing here?" He tuts at her, folding those impossibly long legs to sit beside her. He's not in a suit today, jeans and a white tee adorning his body instead.

He looks good. Comfortable and...more attainable.

His suits always make him look out of her grasp.

"I like you better this way. Without a suit." She says without thinking, he looks back confused at the sudden comment before grinning and looking down at himself.

"I think I look pretty handsome in a suit though."

"I didn't say you didn't. I just like this....better."

He hums beside her and she avoids looking at him, scared at what expression she'll find to her honest statement.

"Another volume came out?" He leans closer, encroaching on her space again and she thrusts the book of further to stop him from coming any closer. Her sanity can only take so much.

"Hmmm you enjoy it." He says easily pushing it back at her, before leaning back against the bookcase and letting out a sigh.

"You don't have work today? Or any plans." She questions, she's been thinking a lot about the women at his job and whether he sees anyone outside. Is he going on dates? Is he interested in anyone?

Having a crush is such hard work.

"No. I was walking aimlessly when I saw you through the window. It must be my lucky day to run into you on my day off."

"Are you happy to see me?"

"Of course. You're always entertaining. I was watching you outside and the range of expressions you showed on your face made me laugh so hard. You would be awful at poker Hee-do."

Always teasing her. It's basically his specialty. But she's happy to see him too, they haven't been able to meet since the time they all ate together. He's so busy now as a full fledged reporter and she's undeniably happy for him but there's a part of her that misses him having time to just hang out with her.

This must be what growing up is like.

She hates it.

With a sigh she tilts her head until it's resting on his arm. He stills beside her before his muscles relax and he snuggles closer, letting her rest easier against him.

"Are you okay Hee-do? Did something happen?" She knows that voice, it's the same one that he used when she got hurt recording the simultaneous touch and when he found her crying outside over chairs. That's his I'll fix everything, just tell me what's wrong voice.

But he can't fix this.

"Nothing happened. I just missed you this week, my days aren't as bright when I don't see you."

Ever since his confession on the bridge, they've both been speaking freely and saying what's on their minds. It's terrifying. Knowing that her feelings are returned.

"Well I'm here now. Smile for me?"

He puts two fingers in the edge of her lips and physically turns her frown upside down. She stares at him blankly before giggling at the absurdity and smacking his hands away.

"You can't just force me to smile like some doll!"

She shoves his hard and he falls over laughing loudly with her and in the end, they get kicked out of the store for being too loud and disturbing other patrons. That only makes them laugh harder. Laughter echoing down the street.

She's wearing a dress.

She hadn't planned on going to the dance at school but Yu-rim begged and pleaded and promised that she wouldn't be a third wheel all while Ji-woong hung off her and asked if they should wear matching outfits. She shook her head no in decline but the other fencer wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Please. I've never gone to a dance with a friend. I don't want everyone staring at me and Ji-woong all night."

And because she couldn't say no to her online best friend, she finally agreed. Already knowing she would regret it.

Her mom had suddenly thrust a bag into her hand a few days later and she wondered if her mother had listened to her conversation with Yu-rim on the phone.

"I don't even own a nice dress."

Without a word her mother had walked away and she went into her room to open the bag. She gasped at what she founded inside.

Could she really wear something pretty and feminine like this? She was the furthest thing from feminine and she wondered if she would look stupid in the dress, like a kid playing dress up.

But surely she could try it on. There was no harm in that. So standing to lock her door she strips off her uniform and pulls the dress on over her head, there's no mirror in her room so she can't see herself but as she looks down at herself she can't control her smile. Maybe she looked pretty. Maybe someone else would think she looked pretty too.

"Maybe I should wear a shirt underneath it."

A white shirt and white tennis shoes completed her outfit.

"Here use this bag. The dress suits you, you look like a young lady for once."

Ignoring the dig for her mother, she takes the pale blue shoulder bag she hands her. It matches her dress almost perfectly like it was meant to go together.

"Don't stay out too late. And if anyone tries anything you don't want kick them right in their-"

"Mom!" She screams embarrassed and shocked. Her mother has never given her a speech like this before. She won't admit it out loud but.... it's nice. Almost like her mother actually cares about her.

"I was only going to say penis. What's the big deal? You're almost 19. You know about genitalia."

She groans loudly, racing down the stairs to stuff her feet into her new shoes.

"Don't wait up for me. I won't be out late."

There's no response and she slams the door shut behind her. The warm summer air hits her and a gust of wind rustles the bottom of her dress, it's weird to feel wind on her legs they're so seldom exposed.

Checking that she has her keys she walks down the stairs with her head in her borrowed bag.

It's that distraction that causes her walk into a warm wall.

Jumping back she goes to apologize to whoever she just absently walked into.

"Baek Yi-jin? What are you doing here?"

He doesn't answer, looking at her slowly up and down. A smile spreading across his face before he looks back at her face.

"You look pretty."

Her heart jumps. She almost grabs it to calm it down.

"Thank you." She replies, bashfully looking at the ground.

"Yu-rim mentioned it to me. She told me that you all were going to the dance. I wanted to see you before you left, I've never seen you in a dress before."

She feels vulnerable, she hasn't worn a dress in a long time not since her father passed away.

The last time she wore a dress she was experiencing the worst heartbreak of her life.

"Do I look stupid? Does it look bad?" She shrinks in on herself, feeling self conscious and small.

His hand is large and warm on her jaw and he forces her to look up.

She stares back completely captivated as he shakes his head, "I already told you that you look beautiful. Don't worry about anyone else."

She wasn't. His opinion was the only one that mattered to her.

She smiles at him, feeling more confident in her skin. Maybe she didn't look half bad.

"Come on I'll walk you there."

And they walk in comfortable silence. Fingers grazing every few steps but neither brave enough to cross that line quite yet.

She almost pouts in disappointment when they finally reach the school, she wanted to spend more time with him.

"Well thank you for walking m-"

"Dance with me."

They talk at the same time and when she processes what he said she's still too confused to do anything but stare stupidly with her mouth open.

Then he's putting his hand out and smiling charmingly at her and almost like she's lost in a fog, she reaches out to place her hand in his. Perfect fit.

They stay like that for a moment, then he tugs her closer wrapping his hands loosely around her waist before starting to sway and she follows his movement allowing him to lead her. Faintly she can hear the music in the distance but he's moving them to his own pace, slowly spinning them around and around.

"I wanted to be your first dance tonight."

She tries not to think about why that was so important to him. What any of this means. Why he wants to be her first and why he's always touching her like she's his?

Wrapping her dangling arms around his waist she nods into his chest, body buzzing from their closeness.

"You'll probably be my only dance tonight."

"That's not true. I was a teenager once."

She nods even though she has no idea what that means. The other boys don't even see her as a girl, nobody will be asking to dance with her.

"Focus on your friends. Just dance with them instead."

She almost agrees before a thought pops in her mind, it's so ridiculous that she nearly brushes it away but the way he's behaving is..... strange.

So she decides to rest her theory.

"Okay I will. Ji-woong is a good dancer so I'll definitely dance with him."

His hand tightens on her waist. She almost jumps for joy.

"He's with Yu-rim. Don't get between them. Just dance with someone else."

"Then does that mean I shouldn't dance with Yu-rim? It's our first dance."

"No she's fine. You can dance with her."

Pushing him away she looks up giant knowing smile on her face, "Am I only allowed to dance with girls? Are you forbidding me from dancing with boys?"

She expects him to deny her claims or at least look away but he continues to stare at her, steadfast and unashamed.

"Are there any boys you want to dance with?" He searches her eyes and she looks away first because they both know the answer.

"Fine. You're right. For some reason I get possessive about you."

It's unbelievable but everything that she feels towards him, he feels it in return for her. She keeps forgetting that.

"Sometimes I feel the same way. There must be plenty of pretty women at your job."

"Are you admitting that you get jealous because of me Hee-doo?" He teases her and she doesn't back down stepping further into his space for once, "Am I the only one? What are you doing right now?"

He looks back at her in surprise before shaking his head.

She's won this round.

"It's because you make me crazy. Go inside and have fun."

They have been standing outside for a long time, other students walking around them and wondering who's the tall handsome guy with "who is that? Is that Na Hee-do in a dress?"

"Okay. Thank you for walking me and for being my first dance. Bye!"

She begrudgingly steps out of his hold already missing the warmth of his arms.

With a light wave, she turns to walk inside the school. Wanting nothing more than to run back into his arms.

"Na Hee-doo!"

She spins around at his shout, looking at him in question clutching her bag to stop herself from going to him.

Why is this so hard?

"You're gonna be the most beautiful girl in there."

"Even more than Yu-rim?"

A sense of deja vu washes over her.

Will he be able to choose between them this time? Will he say the words she wants to hear?

Yu-rim exudes feminity and grace, everything that she is severely lacking. It's childish of her to ask this she knows that.

But still.... She wants to know. Who is prettier in his eyes?

"Yes. Even more than her, Ji-woong can worry about her. I'll worry about you."

It sounds like another confession. And he's comparing them to a known couple. Which means that everything he's been doing was intentional and it wasn't all in her head.

Throwing caution to the wind, she finally listens to her heart and feels the wind through her hair as she runs towards him hugging him as soon as she reaches him. He immediately hugs her back and she giggles loudly as he lifts her off her feet.

It's ironic that while she's falling for him, he's always picking her up.

They hug each other for a long second, clinging to each other tightly. His scent washing over her.

The rest of the dance is fun. People she's never spoken to tell her how good she looks and Yu-rim starts screaming when she sees her, forcing her to spin around to show off her outfit. Ji-woong gives her a huge thumbs up and Seung-wan smiles brightly at her.

She declines every boy who asks her to dance, dancing with Seung-wan and Yu-rim when she can pry her away from her clingy boyfriend.

Then they all dance together, jumping up and down with their arms in the air.

She laughs freely and throws her body around, only one person on her mind.

[one-more-offbeat-anthem]

for @acklesology​ ‘s winter/follower celebration: presents / reindeer / i want a hippopotamus for christmas

Cas normally doesn’t barge into his roommate’s room without knocking, but Dean’s spent the first week of Christmas break with a terrible bout of the flu and now he won’t answer Cas, not even with a feeble “Hello?” through the door.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

The reason for Dean’s silence is quickly evident: he’s fast asleep, a half-empty bottle of cough medicine gripped loosely in one of his hands and used tissues strewn across the floor in front of his bed. Very, very carefully, Cas takes the cough medicine and sets it on Dean’s desk (which is still covered in his engineering notes from finals last week) and sweeps all the tissues into the trashcan. Confident that his roommate is still breathing, even through stuffy-nosed sniffles, Cas turns to leave. He and Charlie are supposed to go downtown this afternoon for Christmas shopping, which Cas is behind on, and he still hasn’t--

Cas stops short when he notices something on Dean’s desk that definitely wasn’t there yesterday. 

First, there’s a crumpled up Michael’s Craft Store bag that Cas recognizes from the bag of snacks and medicine their friend Jo brought yesterday (Dean was complaining about Cas giving him chicken noodle soup but no beef jerky), and the aforementioned beef jerky wrappers (he throws those in the trash, too), but then a bunch of actual craft supplies, including an open scrapbook, an uneven stack of photographs, and some markers.

The photographs, Cas notices, are all of him and Dean. 

Very quietly, he picks up the stack and rifles through it. Some are pictures he recognizes--the formal that Meg convinced Dean and Cas to go to for her sorority (Cas was her date and Dean went with one of her friends, but then they both abandoned the girls for the photo booth), when they moved into this apartment and didn’t have any furniture so they ate pizza on the floor the first night, when Dean got inducted into the engineering honors society...

And others that he doesn’t recognize, some of just him, pictures Cas had no idea Dean had taken.

Dean snores and rolls over slightly. Cas sets down the pictures.

There’s only one thing in the open scrapbook: a note, written in Dean’s jagged handwriting. 

To Cas, it reads, Merry Christmas. I don’t know how to tell you how much I love and appreciate you, but hopefully this’ll do. 

Cas takes a deep breath and glances over at Dean, who chooses that moment to crack one of his eyes open. 

“What’re you--” Dean coughs, “Doing?”

“Just checking on you.” Cas steps away from the desk, trying not to look conspicuous. “Charlie’s coming to get me in five minutes.”

“Lemme guess, there’s soup in the fridge?” 

“And a bowl on the counter.”

“Thanks, Cas.” Dean coughs again, but then smiles weakly. “Have fun.” 

(The thing is, Cas will tell Charlie later, is that the universe must be doing strange things for him and Dean to be making the same Christmas present for each other. Charlie tells him to shut up and focus on buying gifts for people that aren’t Dean.) 

[thera-daydreams]

KABILANG BUHAY

× A TRESE ONESHOT ×

[Crispin x Ghost!Reader]

📝 Summary: Your demigod husband remembers you—everything about you—and how much he absolutely loved you. He remembers everything, including the memory that hurt the most.

📌 Warning: Contains fluff, angst, character death, and mentions of violence (because an angry Crispin being the son of a wargod is bound to shed some blood somewhere). Masakit po talaga 'tong songfic na 'to, trust me. If you don't want to get hurt, scroll awaaaay. Pero if you want maximum 1000% ultra heavy pain, then listen to the song below on repeat while reading, too.

Song: Kabilang Buhay by Bandang Lapis

(word count: 5,642)

"Masasayang mga araw na kasama kita."

Warm. Crispin always remembered you to be so warm—every single part of you. The heat of your skin against his whenever he held you, that whimsical sparkle in your eyes whenever you saw the little joys in life, that sprightly curve of your lips whenever you two teased each other, and the radiance he saw from you whenever you were around the people you loved.

In his eyes, there was always a halo around your head or a beam of light following you around. Perhaps he was biased; perhaps he saw you through rose-tinted glasses, but it didn't matter to him. To the demigod, you were everything he ever wanted.

You were the one.

You were also one of the sweetest people he'd ever met. Every morning without a fail, there would always be a hot cup of kape and a plate of pandesal on the table—not only for him, but for everyone else in your little family, too. Alexandra, Hank, and of course, his younger brother Basilio. Even before you became his girlfriend, you'd treated them as your own loved ones.

That was the day he knew you were truly the one for him. The one who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. The one he wanted to build a home with. The woman he wanted to marry and have children with, if you were okay with it (when that conversation came, you said you would be happy and honored to be his wife).

Crispin said it was the other way around. It was he who was fortunate and honored to be your husband. You'd laughed in response, kissing his cheek. There were no fancy rings or a formal, elaborate proposal involved, but that day—he remembered clearly that you had that conversation on a chilly December 1st, 9:24PM, right before you two went to bed—was an unspoken promise.

You two would be inseparable and together 'til death do you part.

Going back to that coffee and bread, he always wondered how you managed to keep it so fresh (you said it was a secret, but later on you spilled the beans to him after him pestering you). Even if he woke up at noon because of missions with his bossing and his brother, palaging mainit ang kape at pandesal. You must have had some sort of superpower you weren't telling him (you rolled your eyes, telling him that superpower came in the form of a microwave).

"Paglalambing at kulit mo na hindi nakakasawa."

He was by no means clingy or touch-starved, but whenever he was around you, he had the need to at least hold you in any way. Sometimes, it was the usual PDA (Basilio and Maliksi teased him about it, but he didn't care if it meant having some sort of contact with you; Alexandra just let it be because she knew how much you two loved each other). In public, you guys toned it down—settling with holding hands or you just linking your arm through his. If he was driving the car, his hand would either be innocently resting on your thigh or your hand which was on your lap. If you were the one driving the car, then it would be your hand on his thigh or his hand. He loved to draw circles on your skin whenever he was daydreaming or starting to doze off, too.

You as a couple often expressed your love for each other in different ways, and not just by saying it out loud. One thing Crispin adored the most about your relationship was the way you voicelessly said "I love you". If it wasn't clear enough that acts of service was one of your love languages, then he could understand that you loved him back through three taps.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

At first, he had no clue what it meant. You just kept doing it whenever you were near him, on whatever body part you could touch. If he was driving? Tap, tap, tap on his thigh. If he was the one cooking? You'd hug him from behind and then one of your fingers would go tap, tap, tap on his waist. If you were eating together? You'd take his palm then just... tap, tap, tap while chewing on whatever food it was you had in your mouth.

He recalled that afternoon you guys were eating at a simple Japanese place. While you slurped up some of the wheat noodles and the savory soup, you were excitedly doing a little happy dance as you ate—the one you did whenever you ate something you found yummy. Frankly, Crispin found it endearing. He, too, was guzzling down some of the ramen when you reached out for his hand then laid it on the table palm up.

With a mischievous smile and your puffed up cheeks looking like a chipmunk from the noodles you'd gobbled up, you gently tapped his palm with your index finger, that same glint in your eye whenever you did that gesture.

"... Anong ginagawa mo, mahal?" Crispin chuckled, a brow raised. He found it cute but he had no idea what it was supposed to stand for.

"Wala lang," you mysteriously answered in a muffled voice, swallowing.

"You know, you shouldn't talk when your mouth is full," he pointed out, amused. You snorted, gulping.

"Not my fault you asked a question, Crispin," you retorted, shoving in another bite of noodley goodness with your chopsticks. You did a mini-wiggle when the umami flavor exploded on your tongue (the ramen was bussin', bestie). Ratatouille would be impressed!

"But seriously, what does the tap stand for?" your boyfriend wondered. You did it again. Tap, tap, tap.

"Isn't it obvious?" you smiled. He then sweat-dropped.

"Wait, keep smiling," Crispin leaned over the table, removing a tiny bit of the dahon sibuyas stuck on one of your front teeth with his nail. He then popped that finger into his mouth, making you blink at the action.

"Ay, may naiwan pala. Hehehehehe." With how long you two have been dating, you were no longer embarrassed if you did get anything stuck in your teeth and he had to get it out (it's happened in more occasions than you could count). You did the same to him (and trust me, you were way past the stage of getting grossed out from the gross habits couples did). At least you two were a hundred percent comfortable and open to one another, right? Sanaol.

Crispin nodded, going back to eating his noodles, "Okay, back to the topic. What does this—" He tapped your palm the same way you did. "—even mean?"

Your grin just grew wider then you whispered into his ear, "I love you."

"... I love you, too," he answered automatically, still not understanding. "But what do the taps mean? You keep doing it and—"

You did it again on his hand.

"I." Tap.

"Love." Tap.

"You." Tap.

At long last, that look of realization came upon his features, "... Aaaaaaaaah."

You chuckled, all brightness and merriness from your revelation to the man you loved. "Gets mo na, mahal?"

He scratched the back of his head sheepishly, "Oo, mahal. Hehe."

"... Can we order another bowl of ramen? Please?" With those puppy-dog eyes? Crispin could never resist. He'd rip the world apart for you and build it back up from scratch if you wanted him to.

That was how deep his love was for you. Kapag nagmamahal ang isang diyos, walang imposible... 'di ba?

He was already raising a hand to call for a waiter, "Sure. Basta maubos mo."

"... And if half lang maubos ko?"

He sighed, "... Edi ako kakain sa anong maiiwan." What was the saying whenever you found your soulmate? Oh, yes.

True love is getting fat together.

Maybe it was true for both of you.

When you two exited the ramen place, you patted your bloated tummy. "Haaaay, busog na busog si food baby," you sighed in happiness, adjusting the the top of your high-waisted skirt to loosen it up for more space. You elbowed him slightly, wiggling your eyebrows at him and mimicking Kylie Jenner, "Soooo, I'm thirty-four weeks today."

"'Luh, ang drama mo," Crispin snickered, poking your rounded side playfully and making you pout. "Nagdadalang tao ka pala, ha. Ako ang tatay pero hindi mo sinabi sa akin na buntis ka." He wouldn't lie, but thoughts of you being pregnant with a child warmed his entire being. Mini-yous and mini-hims running around.

What a dream.

"Nagdadalang tae lang po, manong," you stuck your tongue out at him, then stopped. He stopped walking, too, looking at you questioningly.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Mahal?" you paused. Gulugulugulugulu. Oh no. Mayday, mayday!

"Did you forget something at the restaurant?" he asked. You shook your head in response, telling him there was an emergency.

"... Mahal, natatae ako."

"Like, now?" You nodded at him with wide, doe-like irises. His eyes crinkled, finding the situation hilarious. "Really? Oh shit. Literally. Is this because we were talking about poop?"

Crispin could only cackle as you rummaged through your bag for some wet wipes (and the situation led to you two running around the mall like psychos looking for the nearest restroom—grabe ang cold sweat mo, sis; it was that type of pooping session).

As he waited outside the women's comfort room, he found himself smiling like a weirdo from your date today. Nagdadalang tae o nagdadalang tao, he wouldn't love you any other way.

"Punong-puno ng ligaya ang ating pagsasama."

He found himself unconsciously doing the tapping to you, as well. Tap. Tap. Tap. He only now realized how many times you've been saying "I love you" everyday. Usually, you'd only verbally say it out loud three times: in the morning waking up, whenever he left for a mission, or the times you went to sleep together (because of the nature of his work, it was uncommon, but if he was at home during the night, he'd make sure to say it to you). But now that he knew what the taps meant, he counted them for one week from Monday to Sunday.

You were sitting on the couch, on your stomach and sprawled vertically over his lap. He was watching a basketball game on television while you were on your phone, scrolling through Facebook. It was all quiet until he tapped his finger thrice on your calf. You beamed, rolling over to face him then gently tapping his cheek three times—not with your fingers, but with your hands, smooshing his cheeks then pecking his lips.

"Fwifee-hweif," he said. You tilted your head at him, letting go of his cheeks.

"What was that?" you curiously inquired.

"Fifty-eight," Crispin gave you his signature flirty grin. "You tapped me one hundred seventy-four times today. And one hundred seventy-four divided by three—because I love you has three syllables—is equal to fifty-eight." His affectionate gaze to you softened. "Mahal, you've told me I love you fifty-eight times today."

You just hugged him and hid your face in his neck, "I love you, too, manooooong."

"... Wanna watch a K-drama tonight?" he said, his voice rumbling through his chest as you laid your head on it.

"Mmhmm."

You guys ended up binging Scarlet Heart Ryeo and bawling your eyes out (Crispin cried louder than you, actually, and the box of tissues was passed back n' forth between you two).

"Punyeta, walang Season Two?" Crispin cursed, blowing his nose.

You hiccupped, shaking your head and scrolling through the categories, "W-Wala e-eh, m-mahal."

"Seryoso ka ba?" he gaped, wiping his tears after wiping yours. "That's how it ends?"

You nodded, sniffling, "Uh-huh."

The next morning, when all of you gathered in the kitchen for breakfast, Alexandra and the others could only stare, nagtataka kung bakit namamaga ang mga mata niyo (yeah, they were swollen as hell).

"... Anyare sa inyo?" Alexandra quizzed. Hank, while pouring everyone some juice, had a worried look on his face, too.

"Nag-away ba kayong dalawa, Kuya?" Basilio questioned. You both shook your head simultaneously.

"Hindi," Crispin shortly answered, exhausted from crying with you all night.

"Nanood lang kami ng K-drama," you supplied, as worn out as your boyfriend was.

"Aaaaaaah."

"Na parang wala nang sisira ng lahat."

The date always held some significance to him, not only because it meant only a few days before Christmas but also because it was the day you promised to one another that you'd be endgame.

December 1st.

It would repeat in his head over and over again until the day he died.

The two of you were lying in bed, the cold night air entering through the open windows. You were leaning on his chest in-between his lap, reading The Count of Monte Cristo. He noticed that your expression often shifted between being giddy to being angry or smug at what was happening to the main character.

"... Mahal?"

"Yeah?" you responded, not taking your eyes off the novel. You flipped another page.

"What kind of ring do you want? Para alam ko kung magkano ang iiponin ko?" he quietly asked, his thumb caressing your temple. Normally, men wanted this to be a surprise or didn't talk about this but he only wanted you to have something you'd cherish for the rest of your life. You tilted your head back to look up at him. "Do you want those with the big gems or the smaller and simpler ones?"

You gazed back at your novel, then sat up and closed it, turning to look at him. "Crispin." You took his hands in your own (he tapped it thrice, making a teeny smile creep up your lips). "Hindi ko kailangan ng singsing."

His eyes grew wide, "... Are you sure? You don't want to be formally married?"

You frantically shook your head, "Nooooooo, noooo! That's not what I meant, dummy. I just wanted to tell you that I don't need an expensive ring to be yours." You kissed him. "And to be your wife."

"Pero—"

"Mahal, if we ever do have kids, mahal ang gatas, diaper, at tuition," you childishly told him. "Kung magpapakasal tayo, I don't need a huge proposal or a big wedding. Let's put the funds away for a house and for the future, 'mkay?"

"... But you won't have a ring," he sulked.

Getting an idea, you hopped off the bed and open your cabinet, finding a piece of durable string on one of your shirts. With a strong tug, it came off. You walked back towards your boyfriend, flopping back down then looping it on your left ring finger. You held your hand up to him, "There. I have a ring now, see?"

Crispin had never ever loved anyone as much as he did right now. There was a nagging feeling at the back of his head, though. "... I feel like I've seen this in a movie before, mahal."

"Duuuuh. I got the idea from the Count of Monte Cristo. Mercedes promises herself to Dantes with a string ring! Sorry nalang if copyright infringement ang ginawa ko, hihi." You showed him the book you were reading, the smile not disappearing from your face. Feeling ecstatic, he kissed you passionately right on the spot.

"Ipapangako mo sa akin na magsasama tayo nang walang hanggan?" Crispin whispered against your lips. "Magpakailanman?"

You kissed him, rolling your eyes, "Oo na, Crispin. Corny mo talaga, manong. Such a hopeless romantic, like me!" Another kiss. "I'll stay with you forever and ever and eveeeeeer and grow old with you. We'll get that rest house in the mountains, travel the world together, win the lotto, and do anything we want!" you declared determinedly.

"Promise? Talaga?"

You grinned, wriggling your little finger, "Pinky promise."

He linked his pinky with yours, "Okay. Pinky promise, wifey."

"Okaaaaay, hubby," you quipped, settling down and snuggling into him.

9:24PM, he saw the digital clock display before he pulled the covers over you both, keeping you warm and safe in his arms.

"Bakit pa dumating ang oras na ito?"

"Mahaaaaal, pauwi na ako. Huwag kang mag-alala," you quietly told Crispin over the phone. He was on another investigation, but while their bossing was speaking to Captain Guerrero and Lieutenant Tapia about the case, he used the spare time he had to check up on you.

You had been buying groceries, but knowing you, Crispin had a feeling you had gone to do some other errands.

"Pauwi ka na? Meaning, you're driving home?" He sighed, "And why are you whispering?"

"... Ehehehe," you nervously giggled.

"Anong ehehehehe?" the demigod asked you, suspicious. "Mahal, saan ka na ba talaga?"

"Nasa banko pa ako. Oopsies," you admitted shamelessly. "But I just finished paying the bills. I'm actually walking away from the counter now and—"

You suddenly stopped talking. For a second, the son of the wargod thought that the signal had gone bad.

"Mahal?"

Your voice had gone distant, but it seemed like it was talking to someone else. He strained to hear what you were saying.

"Hey, hey... shhhh, little one, huwag kang umiyak," he heard you say. Your voice seemed so far away. You seemed like you were trying to shush a person. A kid.

"I want my mom!" a child wailed.

"... Langga, come here. At huwag kang masyadong maingay." If it weren't for his heritage as a god, he would have barely been able to hear what you said.

Were you comforting a kid? Awww. He was about to just end the call then text you instead when another much louder and crueler voice could be heard over the phone. No, there wasn't only one voice. There were more.

"Mamatay kayong lahat! Balang araw, hindi na mga tao ang mamumuno sa mundong ito!"

Then there was a sound that was unmistakably a gunshot.

"Nabalitaan ko na wala ka na."

Bang!

His blood went cold. Almost every day he handled firearms in his line of work, so of course he knew what it sounded like. The shrieks and terrified shouts came after the gunshots.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The last thing he heard were more gunshots, then the call ending.

He had never sprinted to Alexandra so fast before, frantically begging her to let him use the Dragon's Gate to teleport to wherever you were, even if it made him physically sick and nauseous.

Crispin didn't give a damn what happened to him, as long as nothing happened to you.

"Hindi ba't sabi mo hindi mo ko iiwan?"

It all happened so fast. One moment he was silently praying to Bathala for your safety while looking for you in the chaos. The next? He was scouring through the overwhelmed emergency room of the nearest hospital, where it was flooded with victims from the mall shooting.

It was a mess, with bleeding patients on the floor as nurses tried to assist. Others were seated on monobloc chairs that had been quickly put on the corridors. There was an overwhelming number of patients taken to the hospital either through ambulances or police cars themselves. It already began to stink of death, and Crispin hated it. His bloodlust as a wargod was creeping up his veins from the stench and his inner fury, but he held it in. He needed to find you first.

Behind him, Alexandra and Basilio were searching for you, too. When he told them what happened, they didn't hesitate to help and be transported to the mall as quick as possible. Captain Guerrero had already dispatched units after hearing what occurred (there was also an alarm that had blared in the station—a bank employee must have pressed an emergency button or something).

Surprisingly, in the midst of the havoc happening inside the hospital, he found himself walking towards the Trauma Bay of the hospital like a magnet. He had no idea where he was going, but he just kept going, and he stopped by a less crowded hallway. If he just went straight forward, he would be entering an operating room.

"Excuse me, coming through! Make some way!" It was a doctor who yelled from behind him. He turned around.

"Hindi papabayaan na ako'y mag-isa."

And as if time went by slower, he found you on a stretcher, being wheeled through the corridor as a nurse was on the bed with you, performing CPR. He saw the amount of blood gushing out of the bullet wounds on your body; one on your back, another on your stomach, and a third on your thigh.

Crispin couldn't help but run after them, asking one of the health professionals what was happening to you, "Nurse! Nurse, is she going to be okay!?"

"Are you her family?" they quickly interrogated. Alexandra and Basilio rounded the corner right as the nurse asked him that. Both held their breaths when they saw the tormenting state you were in, unconscious and on the brink of death.

The eldest demigod frenziedly nodded, "Yes, yes! I'm family!" He glanced at your bleeding form, and his heart clenched seeing the string ring on your finger, a bit of blood splattered over it. "I'm... I'm her husband! Asawa ko siya!"

You weren't formally or legally married yet, but to his eyes (and many of the others who knew you both), you were practically husband and wife.

"Good," the nurse said as they rushed you into the O.R., stopping Crispin from entering any further. "Sir, we need you to tell us your wife's name and her health details, please. She has to be operated on as soon as possible. We need her age, blood type, her comorbidities or allergies, if any..."

Crispin knew them all. He'd memorized them. And he told the nurses everything they needed for the operation. As long as it saved you, he'd say anything. Do anything.

"Hindi ba't sabi mo sabay tayong tatanda?"

It was a grueling operation, he could tell. Crispin had been pacing continuously in the waiting room, not even daring to sit from how anxious he was about you. Hank had come instantly to the hospital after hearing, and now there were three seated and extremely worried people watching him panic outside the operating room.

"God, please let her be okay," he continued to mumble to himself, fiddling with his fingers. "Please, please, please..."

"Kuya, umupo ka muna," Basilio tried to convince his brother.

"Oo nga," Hank frowned.

"You've been standing for five hours," Alexandra gave him a saddened look. "You should rest."

The older demigod shook his head, "I can't, bossing. Hindi pwede. Not until I know that she's okay."

As if on cue, the head surgeon came out of the operating room. Crispin nearly jolted and would have grabbed the man's collar had it not been for Alex and his brother holding him back, calming him down. No one could tell what he was about to say until he removed his surgical mask.

The four occupants waited for his response, antsy. The tension in the room was so thick it could be cut with a knife.

"Doc? Is she okay? Is she gonna be alright?" Crispin asked, troubled out of his mind. Alex's grip on his arm tightened, and so did Basilio's hold on his shoulder. "Doc, please say somethi—"

"... I'm sorry," the surgeon shook his head, a somber look on his face.

It was like the universe stopped for the demigod. The two people holding him were the only ones to support him when his knees buckled.

"We did everything we could. She lost too much blood, and the bullets hit too many vital organs," the doctor explained forlornly. "We performed CPR and a cardiac massage on her for thirty minutes, but she did not make it through the rest of the operation."

The words just echoed emptily through Crispin's ears.

"Bakit bigla ka na lang nandiyan sa kabilang buhay?"

When he entered the morgue alone, he didn't know why but he was expecting you to be sitting up and smiling, almost hearing your teasing voice telling him it was all a cruel prank. At first, that was what he saw. He saw the love of his life, soft skin flushed and curled up lips filled with so much love directed at him. He saw you radiant—glowing; that familiar twinkle in your magnificent eyes. He reached out to hold your left hand, awaiting its warmth.

Awaiting the three taps.

The taps that would tell him "I love you" and "I'm okay".

Crispin even waited a minute. Maybe you were still there, hanging on. Maybe... just maybe... you were fighting.

"Mahal?" he croaked out, squeezing your hand.

"Paano na ang lahat? Paano na ako, tayo?"

Those three taps never came. One minute. Five minutes. Ten minutes.

Only then did he really see you. The illusion all came crashing down.

Now your skin was so cold. So lifeless. So... opposite from what you were when you were alive. You were pale. Your lips were tinted blue. You were so still. So deathly still. Not one movement.

It freaked him out.

He couldn't believe it was you on that metal table—it didn't look like you. Where was the halo he always saw around your head? Where was that beam of light following you around?

His rose-tinted glasses suddenly became grey and dull. Taking your left hand, Crispin felt his heart shatter even more when his hand brushed the string ring on your finger. They had cleaned you up and made sure there was no blood left on your body, but nothing could remove those tiny, miniscule splatters that stained the string.

Remnants of what happened today.

You never did remove it. Even when showering or swimming or washing the dishes, you'd joked to him.

"See? 'Di ko nga kailangan ng singsing. Mas maganda pa nga 'to, eh. I can wear it all the time! Matibay pa!"

Crispin could nearly hear you, but it was all just a memory in his mind. God, he didn't want to forget your voice. Your laughter. Your cries. You whispering to him how much you loved him. He couldn't. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he did.

Both of you didn't even get to say "I love you" one last time. But reality was harsh, and this wasn't a movie where the leading characters could have a lengthy monologue confessing to each other as the dramatic scene was drawn out from seconds into minutes.

There were no camera angles, no music, no time left, and no happy endings. Everything was raw. Real.

"Hindi ba't sinabi mo sa akin na sabay tayong mangangarap?"

"Mahal," his voice trembled as he held your icy hand to his lips, kissing it. "Huwag mo akong iwan. What about us? Our dreams? Andami pa nating pangarap, 'di ba? Mga gustong gawin?"

No response.

"Tatatanda pa tayo, 'di ba? Bibili pa tayo ng bahay na nasa bundok... then we'll travel the world together, right? We've... We've saved up half of the funds! You... You can't leave now..."

Silence.

Crispin felt tears dripping down his face. He hadn't noticed he was crying. Only with you could he be a sniveling mess—around the others, he always had to be the kuya. The responsible one. The oldest one. The loyal bodyguard.

With you? He could be anything and you would never judge him.

Even when you were dead, he was still a sniveling mess in your arms.

"Sabi mo gusto mong manalo sa lotto," he choked out, cupping your cheeks. It was so strange to him; how colorless they were compared to how... spirited you were in life. "I'll do that... I'll make that happen. Just please... please come back to me. Gagawin ko ang lahat... bumalik ka sa akin, mahal. Mahal..."

Crispin told himself nothing was impossible when a god loved someone, yet now all this god could do was be paralyzed by his despair.

"Bakit bigla kang lumisan nang hindi man lang nagpaalam?"

They say there are five stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. People don't talk enough about how they weren't actually stages. They were just five emotions and there was no particular order they came in. They would come and go, and that was how dealing with loss really was.

Today, as he was cradling his departed soulmate and the only woman he knew he'd ever love this much—reduced to tears while nursing his broken heart—he was feeling denial, bargaining, and depression all at once.

Only then did he allow himself to feel anger—just pure, unadulterated fury—when Alexandra let him and his brother unleash their bloodlust to the guilty aswang clan that had been the culprits of the mall shooting. The bank robbery.

He had his vengeance.

The son of the wargod nearly became a god of war that night, coming home soaked in the same crimson that dripped off his guns. He swore to himself he'd rip the world apart for you and build it back from scratch. Thus, Crispin was merciless to those who murdered you and all those other innocent humans.

He took his time watching the life dissipate out of their eyes, especially since he didn't see yours before you died. They were already closed when he got to the hospital too late.

Denial, anger, bargaining, and depression. He'd felt all that as time passed, on and off.

Acceptance? That last stage? That last emotion? Crispin never did really get to that point. Perhaps he would. Perhaps he wouldn't. Only more time would tell.

"Isang malamig na hangin ang yumakap sa akin."

The demigod sat under the tree that shaded your gravestone, a bouquet of white and red roses beside him while he relaxed on the grass. It was a classic symbol of true and everlasting love. That was the vow you'd made to one another, right?

December 1st.

It had been one year since your death. Wasn't it funny how the fates worked? Two years ago, on this very day, you two promised each other that you'd be together forever. He said that this day would be memorable to him until the day he died because technically, it was your engagement slash informal wedding anniversary.

Then one year ago, you had been shot trying to protect a child from those armed aswang. You saved the kid, alright. Crispin even made sure that the little boy, one of the lucky survivors of the shooting, wouldn't be targeted by the aswang. He ensured your sacrifice wouldn't be in vain. But what was supposed to be a marriage anniversary turned into your death anniversary.

December 1st.

The day would indeed be eternally ingrained into his mind.

But now, he could only dwell on nostalgia as he crouched and cleaned your gravestone, polishing it after removing all the grass and dirt. Engraved on it were the words beloved friend, sister, and wife.

Wife.

He really should have married you before you were declared dead. It didn't matter now; you would always be his wife, even in death.

On the left side of your gravestone was his mother's tombstone. He did the same, cleaning it and polishing it. When he was done, he tapped your gravestone thrice, "Una na ako, mahal. Paalam din, Ma. Baka hanapin pa ako ni bossing."

Tap. Tap. Tap.

He jerked, swerving around and standing up. He swore someone just touched his shoulder and—

Whoosh!

"Parang isang pahiwatig na magpapaalam ka na."

A gentle breeze came from behind him, where the tree was. Once more, he turned around.

Crispin didn't know what to do.

He thought he was dreaming, but he wasn't. He knew he wasn't. Not with the way your hand rested on his cheek. Not with how warm you felt.

Despite seeming almost transparent, you looked absolutely radiant, more so than when you were in life. If he was biased before about you having a halo and a beam of light following you around, now he wasn't (because you really did have a golden circle on your head and a candescent glow behind you).

You didn't speak, but again, you tapped your index finger thrice on his cheek. He was too stunned to react to the featherlight touch you had. It was almost nothing, but it was there. A ghostly tap, tap, tap.

"... Mahal?" he whispered.

You joyfully beamed at him (God, did you look divine), then planted a fragile kiss on his lips. You settled down on the roots of the tree and patted the patch of grass beside it. He sat down slowly. When he did, he removed his black gloves while you intertwined your hand with his.

On his left ring finger was a string ring made from that old shirt of yours. The same one you improvised your string ring from. It was how Crispin always remembered you and how he brought your memory everywhere with him.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The triple tapping. Perhaps it was your way of wordlessly saying you loved him while simultaneously bidding him goodbye as a ghost. He didn't know. You couldn't speak (or he couldn't hear you), so you did what you could.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Just that gesture every once in a while as you quietly listened to him tell you about his day.

When he had to leave, he saw you there by the tree, sitting and waving at him. The next time he came to visit, you were there. Always there, waiting.

And when you weren't, after a couple of decades, Crispin knew that it was time for him to let you go.

To let himself move on.

But that didn't mean he stopped hurting or stopped loving you. He could never stop loving you. Never.

Kahit kailangan ka niyang bitawan upang makapagpatuloy ka sa kabilang buhay, habangbuhay kang minahal ng isang diyos ng digmaan.

× AUTHOR'S NOTE ×

Nasa mood kasi akong manakit ng tao (because ngayon ko lang pinanood ang mga pelikula ni Rico Yan & Claudine Barretto after his death; ang pait eh, right person but wrong time). Medyo sadista pala ako, haha. Ayun, pati ako umiiyak habang nagsusulat nito. Even when I was showering, I was still crying and blowing my nose out. Sana nagustuhan niyo kasi pati author niyo nasaktan sa ginawa niya. 🥲😅

And that tapping gesture was inspired by a random Reddit post I saw years ago. As someone whose love language ain't saying stuff out loud, that just really called out to me. Acts of service kasi akin, eh.

Anyways, I finished writing this at like, 12AM. I'll just edit the typos and errors tomorrow because I want to get this oneshot off my chest. Goodnight! 😂💤

Comments and constructive criticism are welcome! Likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, too! (Yes, you may also rant at me for this.) 💙

TAGLIST: @belladaises @binibiningbabaylan @4kodzuk3n @sparklingmallow @severuslovebot @holyshxtangel @marinac15 @space-flamingo @pippethealien @kashasenpai @disappointmentpastry @hornehlittleweeblet2 @seijohoe @monimiin @ibelievein2dmensupremacy @tinybonksharkcop @hannalogies @banisuoh @genshin-idiot @lemonnie-kimmie @haliya-mori

[noblest-roman-of-them-all]

"Want some pasta?" Roman asked with a forced smile when the door that connected his and Remus's room swung open.

"What's in it?" The Duke asked almost suspiciously, raising his chin and nearly dropping the ratty, stained Santa hat from his head.

"Ah, cumin, apparently."

Remus squinted at Roman then shrugged. "Sure! Thanks, Ro-bro." He stepped aside and waved the Prince into his room. He snatched a plate from a desk drawer for their semi-regular impulse pinics while Roman seated himself on the floor.

The Prince scooped out a handful of the pasta and dropped it on his twin's waiting plate.

They ate in silence for several minutes.

"What's with the pasta anyway?" Remus finally questioned.

"It, uh, it was my secret Santa gift from Patton," Roman answered, trying to sound up beat. "Made with love and cumin apparently. So that's nice. Love is always a good secret ingredient. And the cumin's pretty good so there's that."

Remus arched a brow. "I know you're the Goodie Two Shoes one, but you can drop the act now."

Roman shook his head. "I'm glad I got a gift. It's- I'm-" he let out a sigh. "I appreciate it. I'm sure he put a lot of thought into it."

"Nothing really special about it," Remus had no qualms about voicing his opinion. "It's good, but just a regular good."

"Yeah," Roman agreed half heartedly. "Guess I was hoping for something...more...personal," he decided on the word.

"Like the brick you wrote for the Nerd."

Roman's shoulders dropped. "I spent so much time on that. As soon as I pulled his name, I knew what I wanted to do... Thank for your help with, again. I should've had you help me decorate it too, it seems. He wasn't exactly a fan of the cover. But he was 'intrigued', and seemed excited about Watson dying and taking his place."

"What'd everyone else get?" Remus questioned around a mouthful of noodles.

Roman pushed out a huff of air. "Patton got a card from Virgil and Logan got a gift card for Virgil to find some audiobooks."

"How'd they like the song?"

The Prince dropped the same few noodles he'd been picking up and not eating for the past two minutes. "We got through it," he said quietly. He dropped the Tupperware in front of him and wiped his hand on his pant leg.

"Your Aunt Patty comment slipped through."

Remus snorted, nearly choking on his pasta, and giggled once he'd gotten it down. "How'd that go?"

Roman shrugged a shoulder. "It wasn't appreciated."

Remus plucked the ratty hat from his head and dropped it on Roman's. "Think this fits you better right now."

Roman half smiled at his twin for the effort. They sat in silence again while Remus finished eating, and Roman seemed content to stare off into space, chin rested on interlocked fingers.

He jumped when a box thudded in front of him.

Remus cackled a little and quickly dropped back to the floor and waved for Roman to open the box.

Roman eyes the box warily. "I'm not sure I can handle anymore..." anymore what? Disappointment? Hurt? Words that were well intended or innocently meant but ultimately felt like a personal jab? "Surprises," he decided was the best word.

Remus held up three fingers. "Nothing bad or scary, scouts honor."

Roman squinted suspiciously, but picked up the narrow box and tugged off the green ribbon, then tore off the snowflake patterned paper.

He gasped at what lay inside.

"Do you like it?" Remus asked hopefully.

Roman lifted the braid patterned friendship bracelet out of the box as if it were made of glass. The colors were his own, red, white, and gold with a plastic ruby button for a closure.

"You made this?" Remus nodded, not quite willing to meet the Prince's eye. "I love it."

The Duke looked up. "Yeah?"

Roman jumped forward and hugged Remus tightly, losing his hat in the process. "Thank you," he said sincerely then quickly pulled away and pushed the bracelet and his right arm at Remus. "Put it on for me!" He ordered with a cheesey grin. Remus smiled and did as he was told. No sooner was it on than Roman was on his feet. "Wait here, don't move." And with that he darted back into his room.

Remus jumped when the box hit the ground and Roman plopped back down across from him with a grin. "Open it!"

The Duke blinked. "For once, I'm kinda scared to. You're not usually that excited to give me things."

"Don't worry, it can't bite anymore."

The comment seemed to be enough to intrigue Remus and he carefully tugged off the red satin ribbon before tearing open yellowed and water stained paper. He gasped and quickly closed the lid again when he saw the contents. "Can I wear this downstairs?"

"You didn't get it from me and it doesn't go on quests," Roman answered.

"Done!" Remus agreed. He tossed the lid over his shoulder and snatched out the over sized rat and pulled it over his head. "How do I look?"

"As disgusting as Jack Skellington would hope."

Remus giggled, clapping his hands in delight.

Roman couldn't help but laugh. "Glad you like it, Rem-ding." He absent mindedly spun the bracelet around his wrist and Remus's smile faltered.

"You don't have have to wear that-"

"You're gonna have to cut my hand off if you want this back."

Remus grinned broadly. "Can I cut your hand off anyway?"

"No! That's my shield arm, you dunce."

"You're boring," Remus complained and dramatically flopped against his twin, nearly knowing the Prince over.

"I'll remind you about that the next time my shield protects your grimy butt," Roman muttered and shoved the Duke with no real force. "Merry Christmas, Rem-ding."

"Merry Christmas, Ro-bro