#chowder: and that is his place of business

[searchingforserendipity25]

There are some things Davenport knows.

He counts them sometimes, the things he knows.

His name; how to tie his shoes with twelve different knots; how the Madame Director likes her coffee.

The rules of playing Fantasy Chess, and how to cheat at Fantasy Chess too.

How to tell when someone is afraid

How to make his bed, so tight and neat he can drop a coin on it and it jumps, newly polished and gleaming, right back into his hand

How to bandage up to twenty different kinds of injuries

How to make the best sea chowder on the Moon Base, and also on the planet

How to press a uniform so it lasts a week and several explosions with no crinkled corners

How to organise reports with proper colour-coding techniques

Not a great many words, when it comes to that - slippery as fishtails, words, hard to grasp in the mind and impossible to put into his mouth

How to laugh, and how to cry

How to be helpful, if not always in the most efficient way

Some very complicated geometry and arithmetic, though not the word for geometry, nor how to write down an equation to explain how he got his results.His name, the names of his colleagues, where he is, what time of the day it is, what happened yesterday.

His name, his name, even when he doesn't know anything else, his name is Davenport -

Most days, anyway

He cries, sometimes, over bowls of spicy soup and at cute dogs, when someone leaves a book half-open on the table - when he sees groups of people laughing, and when he's alone for a long time. He is rarely alone. The Madame Director finds him, every time. Brings him biscuits and jam, shares puzzles, gives him folders to file.

She tries to teach him new words from brightly coloured books, sometimes. Not often; Davenport hates to make her unhappy, and she looks very sad, whenever he fails. He hates failing - this he knows for certain. But regardless of what he does, the Director is sad a lot of the time. Busy, busy; but she goes very still, late at night, and writes lists in strange languages with shifting characters, and then burns them, with a look on her face like stone, like a closed fist. He sweeps the ashes, afterwards; there's nothing in them he can understand.

No one sees her in those hours. Only Davenport is there, with no one else around. Davenport does not count as company, really. Or at least the Madame Director trusts him enough to let him see her when it's very late and she is very tired, and there is too much work for a night's rest.

It's nice, being trusted. Davenport likes it, likes his little tasks, his schedule and his friends. He knows every corner of the Moon Base, except the ones he is not supposed to enter; he has a little map sewn into his coat pocket, for when he forgets he knows every corner of the Moon Base.

He loves slow music, and sea chowder, and to drink his tea (the Director makes it, sometimes; she knows just how he likes it) while standing behind the transparent windows and watch the planet down below, all green and blue and changeful, like a face with many moods.

He knows he likes these things.

It is only that, sometimes, Davenport is very full of a painful feeling, a feeling like being full of smoldering fire, a feeling like --

Anger has no face, no colour. Davenport does not know a lot of things; sometimes he grasps at the softened edges of his mind, looking for something sharp enough to cut himself with. Davenport is angry, sometimes, though he has no words for it. Sometimes, anger is the only real thing in Davenport's world, the first thing he ever knew.

And then he forgets about it.

There are few things Davenport knows. He can feel the shape of something very important, prodding at him, filling him up with a warm, unpleasant energy. It is there when he wakes, for a handful of moments - every day, in the dreaming place between wakefulness and sleep. Like a dream, it fades before he is done dressing for the day. He has no words for it. The truth is, most days Davenport only knows his name is Davenport, and the worst of it is Davenport forgets there might be anything missing.

[universallydestinytaco]

The Little Smiling Mermaid (Chapter 6)

🌊 THANK YOU to all my 150 followers! Sorry, I didn’t get to draw an illustration this week BUT the wonderful @oskidontle had blessed me with this lovely fanart of Mer!Pim (thank you again), Please follow them and check out their own awesome Smiling Mermaids AU!✨

Charlie and Mipnessa got along swimmingly enough for two people who just met each other that day…unless, Charlie pondered, if they just-so happen to have already met! Charlie took note of how Mipnessa vaguely resembled the mystery person of whom he recalled rescuing him that morning…and while he wasn’t quite sure at first, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to try and potentially refresh her memory; He also had a string gut feeling that it wouldn’t be wise to potentially out her as one of the elusive merfolk out of politeness….if not being proven wrong and labeled as a silly-hearted daydream-believer. Charlie ran back to his quarters to swipe the green cloak that was left behind to gently fold it up, then he started rummaging through his closet for a perfectly-sized decorative shoebox to place inside of as a grandiose gesture to Mipnessa before running back to bequeath the gift. “Y’know I have a funny hunch that this is something you’d totally look great in.” The flattered Mipnessa giggled in response: “Showering me with gifts already? You must take a fancy to me.” Feeling overwhelmed with butterflies in his stomach, Charlie blushed with a nervous grin. Mipnessa opened the box and held up the cloak, while she admired the deep emerald green shade, she couldn’t exactly pinpoint what fabric was used for it or could she figure out why it smelled like the brine of clam chowder. “It’s beautiful, and it matches my dress way better than the shawl I’m wearing too.” Charlie replied with a fairly obvious double-meaning: “A match made in heaven.” as he held her hand and proposed: “Perfect for an atmospheric afternoon-to-evening stroll, lemme show you to the outskirts of the palace, the sunset views are amazing out there!”

Meanwhile, Alan had just caught up with the rest of the party as an eagerly-lovestruck Pim alongside a curious Glep followed Graham Nelly to the crisp shore nearby Prince Charlie’s castle. “I can’t wait to see his cute face again!” Pim squealed in delight while fidgeting his hands, Alan sternly reminded him with a business-like tone to mask his anxiety: “We’re here to fetch back your cloak, so that nobody could recognize you and drag you back to that toxic, discourse-infested mess of a palace; We also really shouldn’t stay up here for too long lest we want to be some crazed stowaway’s four-course meal.” Pim’s glee briefly turned into annoyance as he was tempted to roll his eyes at his paranoid friend’s repetitive jargon had it not been for the fact that unlike his family, Alan’s “survival mode”-demeanor was out of genuine concern and love rather than blind bigotry over land folk. When the group made it to their destination, they would come to find that much to their surprise, Charlie was indeed out-and-about, bringing an unexpected guest with him for a neat little walk by the sparkling sapphire waves. While the party of sea critters hid behind the conveniently large rock while observing the scene from a far, they all quickly took notice that the lady accompanying Charlie was wearing an accessory all too familiar to Pim, who shook his head in disbelief before taking another look to find that Charlie was clearly flirting with with her as well. While Alan started discussing a plan to swipe the cloak with Graham, Glep took notice how his buddy Pim was doing. “My cloak…” Pim quietly uttered while overwhelmed with a flurry of mixed emotions, flashing between shock, confusion, hurt feelings and jealously all boiling down into unbridled fury. Glep never saw Pim this angry since that time he was just a teenager and his sister Amy tore the lock on his diary and blurted out all his secrets, including who he was crushing on at the time. Something REALLY must have struck a cord with the usually understanding and compassionate mercritter…

Graham proposed: “We could, like, wrangle a bunch of dolphins together to create a huuuuge wave and splash it right on her so that Prince guy can offer to hang it up for her and when they leave we can snag it from a clothes line, concrete plan!” Alan argued in a snippy-yet-monotone inflection: “Yeah but there’s no clothes line anywhere near water, besides, it would take us all night to achieve that plan anyways.” Graham then got another bright idea: “I know JUST the thing, dude. I have in my collection and it’s this neat tool called a grappling hook! It’s what land folks use to retrieve items from far-away.“ Alan rolled his eyes with an exasperated yawn. “Oh really? Go off I guess.” Graham happily explained: “It’s this long-ass stick with a string attached and at the end of the string it’s a hook! and you toss it far enough and the hook catches-“ he was cut off by a loud, panicked gasp from the horrified Alan, who furiously chided Graham while using his claws as gestures to express his disgust: “You keep a literal weapon used for catching and eating our kind?!! What in Davy Jones’ locker is the matter with you?!” Graham casually shrugged, replying: “I’ve only ever seen something like this being used to catch fish only to throw them back, like they kept catching fish but it’s obvious that she was trying to retrieve something she lost down there.” Alan stood there dumbfounded with his left eye twitching for a few seconds, until he broke silence with a sigh with one claw on his face, “Look, It would just be easier for one of us to sneak up to that lady and quietly snag the cloak away from her.” Graham cheered: “That’s it!” Alan realized exactly what he had in mind and groaned: “Alright, I understand now that I have to put my big-boy shell on.” Glep piped up: “Eskewazebewaboyo!”, Pim’s face perked up at the suggestion. Graham agreed: “Hell yeah! They’ll be too distracted to notice Alan, they’ll be all like: Oh, where is that heavenly sound coming from? Ha! It’ll be a synch!” Alan gulped, “Well, here goes nothing.”

During the conversions Charlie ignited while subtly prying for clues, he had realized that Mipnessa wasn’t the mystery critter. First off, she knew how to swim but preferred to go sailing over swimming. Second she does sing but her voice was rather different from what he had in mind BUT she did play the lute well. Lastly and most glaringly obvious of all was that she had just embarked on Eustace’s ship at the same time the rescue took place and was still miles away from Gremblonia. That being said, Charlie was perfectly content with having Mipnessa as a bride, she may have not been an exotic dream girl but she was a charmingly meek and proper lady whose lute could harmonize well with his ocarina! “You know Mipnessa, I could take you sailing on our ship and go on one of my wild adventures out at sea, maybe we’ll take on a kraken or get into a gang fight with pirates.” Charlie proposed in a suave tone, in response Mipnessa sheepishly loosened up the green cloak ‘round her shoulders, replying: “…y’know, maybe I would like that.” for a brief moment that felt like forever, the two locked eyes and gazed at each other’s presence for what felt like forever. As the sunset started melting into nighttime, the most angelic voice made it’s way to the couple’s eardrums, snapping them out of their trance. Charlie started running around frantically looking for the sound as Mipnessa’s curiosity peaked, joining him as she didn’t pay any mind to Alan’s pincer clinging onto the cloak slipping off of her shoulders. Once the cloak was freed from Mipnessa’s grasp, Alan scurried back fast he could before they’d notice. Meanwhile back behind “home base”, Pim peaking behind as he vocalized his feelings with a warm, sweet a capella with a noticeable tang of seductive amour and just a hint of bitter jealousy; This was Pim’s subtly, classy way of saying out-loud: “That boy is MINE, you got nothing on me you basic bitch!!”. Just as Alan made it to just inches away from water, the lobster tripped on a pebble and got tangled up in the shawl and tried to wriggle his way out. Pim took notice, stopped what he was doing and immediately swam to the scene to finish the job.

Just then Mipnessa realized something was missing. “Oh dear, my cloak!” Charlie blushed upon seeing Mipnessa’s curvy frame accentuated by her sleeveless dress, but quickly snapped out of it. “D-don’t worry, it’s probably back where we left off.” Charlie stumbled back to where he and Mipnessa where viewing the sunset, what he discovered was more than just the cloak itself: it was none other than the mystery critter who rescued him, half-submerged in water while clad in a seashell bra, freeing what looked like a lobster that somehow got trapped inside before taking back what was rightfully theirs. Charlie stood there and froze in shock, asking himself if he was just seeing things or he was trapped in some sort of dream, as he rubbed his eyes in disbelief, the mystery critter already vanished. A tinge of guilt filled Charlie’s heart, as he wished he could have apologized for giving her cloak away, but his thoughts broke as Mipnessa was calling for him to return. Charlie ran back and tried to explain what happened but all that came out was nervous gibberish that Mipnessa initially assumed was Spammish, until he blurted: “Damn lobster made off with the cloak!!” while shaking his fist. Mipnessa giggled: “Duke Eustace was right, you are a washed-up mess of a boy!” Charlie once again froze, embarrassed, until she nudged him a with a smile and reassurance: “At least you’re not some stuck-up old prune.”

~ Damien (and the rest of the search party) spent two days looking for Pim with a nagging conscience, he swore to Neptune if he found his littlest sibling, he’d work hard on being a better brother overall. Ironically, he found a patch of sea flowers to rest upon for the night, just as he was about to lie down he saw a short, cloaked figure picking the flowers, presumably for herbal use. “Pimberly, is that you?!” All he got in response was the laughter belonging to an elderly-sounding sea critter. “Oh deary, I’m afraid I’m not the lost Princess, I’m just an old botanist making medicine.” Damien’s heart sank, his pink skin turning grey at the reveal. “But, I have seen Princess Pimberly ‘round these corners.” Damien’s eyes widened with relief, begging: “Please, tell me where!” The old wisenheimer gave a concerning hint: “I’ve seen the Princess swimming in-and-out of this grotto hauling a satchel full of the most WORTHLESS crap!” Damien pressed for more answers: “So, where is this grotto?”

🐚

Chapter 7 Coming August 9th

[strangersteddierthings]

The Conversation

Final Part of The Interview [Part One] [Part Two] [Ao3]

Steve finishes putting on his boots, shoves a beanie on his head, and grabs his thermos of coffee before heading outside. Robin had texted when they left Pendleton so they should be arriving soon, and he wants to make sure the dogs stay clear of the driveway, and also finish some of the chores he is being lazy about. The mountain air is cold in February, and the snow is deep, but it's still warm for a winter day in Eastern Oregon.

His childhood house had been at the edge of a little forest. His current home is tucked away in the woods, trees for miles, and the nearest neighbor farther still than that. He's lived a lot of places, been able to see the whole of America almost, and in the process, he's learned that he'll always be a small-town boy. The real revelation is how at home he feels in this two-bedroom cabin sequestered away from any town at all. Sure, he's got to drive a little over half an hour to get to the nearest grocery store, but he's learned he likes that.

He's got 1600 acres of woods all to himself and the dogs. He's owned this property for almost four years, but recent events made him finally move out here. Originally, he'd bought it to make it as another flip project, but something in his gut told him to make it a vacation home / safe haven for his family instead. Robin, mainly, as a getaway from the LA life and overwhelming spotlight she'd started to face as her music career took off. He might be turning it into his permanent home and base of operations, but everyone knows they're still welcome.

Anyway, the day might be warm for winter, but the night won't be, so Steve sets his thermos on the top of the wooden railing of the porch and heads down the steps to the woodshed. The plan in the summer is to update the cabin, which includes adding central air and a good heating system, but until then, portable heaters are in the bedrooms and the wood stove gets the rest of the cabin. There's also plans to start the construction on the guest house. It's going to be a busy summer.

He replenishes the woodpile on the porch from the woodshed and debates chopping more but decides against it. That can be a tomorrow chore. Next is cleaning up the snow paths he's made previously. Doesn't want anyone falling on their ass on the way to the house, no matter how funny that'll be to watch. As usual, Pancake makes the task difficult because she wants to play with the snow shovel. Melody cries until he throws snow into the air by the shovel full for her to play in. Chowder, old man that he is, supervises from the porch, front paws hanging just off the top step.

It's rough going but he manages to complete the few chores, even with two dogs underfoot.

Steve is on the front porch, forearms holding his weight as he leans against the railing, thermos of coffee between his hands, taking in the afternoon sun and enjoying the silence when Dustin's work truck slides into the driveway. Almost literally, given the foot and a half of snow still on the ground. The driveway is long, okay. Steve's doesn't have enough time in his day to keep up with salting it all.

It'll be strange to see Eddie after all these years. He still can't believe Robin got him to come. When he'd asked how she did it, she brushed him off with an it's not important.

Speaking of Robin, she's the first person out of the truck, sliding out of the passenger seat and then cursing when she drops right into the snow. She shoots an accusatory look towards the cabin, and therefore Steve, like he placed the snow there himself, when the fault is Dustin, who has left the driver side with plenty of room between the truck and the snowbank.

Dustin gets out of the truck and Steve faintly hears him say this side, man, less snow before pushing his door closed and turning to brace himself as Pancake and Melody rush from the porch to circle like sharks, barely restraining themselves from jumping up. Chowder follows after slowly, taking his sweet time getting to Robin, his favorite human. Steve can't even be jealous about that because Robin is his favorite human, too.

The back driver side door opens, and he watches as Eddie Munson all but falls out of the truck. It's the least graceful anyone's looked getting out of the back of the truck and that's counting Chowder and his old man hips. Seeing Eddie again is- well, it's a lot of emotions all at once, but they're are all overshadowed at the moment by how Eddie looks... well, bad. His hair is longer than Steve's ever seen it, a little longer than mid-back length, but it looks like it hasn't seen a proper hair brush in a couple of days. Even from this distance Steve can see the bags under his eyes. He looks like he hasn't slept in days.

He pushes himself off the railing and meanders down the two steps, waiting for them to notice he's waiting. Robin trudges out of the snow berm and to the front of the truck, where Chowder is waiting patiently for his pets and kisses. Dustin has managed to get Melody to stop hopping in front of him so she can get her side scratches, and Pancake has realized there is a new, third person with a set of hands currently not petting her, and is circling Eddie, waiting for him to reach down and pet her but he just stands completely still, heading tracking her in her circles.

"She's friendly, I promise," Steve calls out, which makes Eddie's head snap up to look for the source of the voice. Well, everyone looks, but Eddie looks like he's seeing a ghost, which. Fair. Steve kind of feels the same way.

"Hello, Dingus," Robin calls as she stands from her crouched position, where she's been cuddling Chowder. As soon as she stands, he starts making his way back to the porch. "I have delivered one Edward Keaton Munson. You are not allowed to ask anything of me for, at minimum, a year."

"Steve! Why didn't you tell me you knew the Eddie Munson?" Dustin shouts.

Robin is scoffing, clearly offended. "Am I not famous enough for you Henderson!?"

"Get back to me when you've run a 24-hour Dungeons and Dragons live stream for charity!" Dustin shoots back, then has to dodge Robin's half-hearted punch aimed for his arm.

Eddie stays silent, looking more pale than when he got out of the truck. Steve's a little concerned he's going to faint.

"You been living under a rock, Dustin?" Steve asks. "My knowing him is apparently the only thing on the internet currently."

Dustin puts his whole head into the eye roll. "You spend a month backpacking with your girlfriend in the southern hemisphere and you never get to hear the end of it. I told you I'd catch up on your drama after I catch up on my DnD Live Plays."

"You also missed me winning a Grammy, you know."

"I thought Steve's thing was more important?"

"You are impossible, Henderson."

"You guys going to argue in the snow all afternoon, or do you want to come inside?" Steve says then places his fingers in his mouth and whistles. Melody and Pancake dash for the front door, where Chowder is already waiting. Dustin, Robin, and a still eerily quiet Eddie fall into line to walk the trail to the porch Steve had cleared.

Steve jumps the steps, grabs his thermos, lets the dogs in, and then holds the door for everyone else. Robin and Dustin breeze past, but Eddie slows, eyes jumping around Steve's face as they just look at each other for a moment. Eddie opens, then closes, then opens, then closes his mouth.

"Hi," Steve offers up, shifting a foot to hold the door open so he can wave his fingers at Eddie.

Eddie swallows thickly, then whispers back, "hey."

"In the house, Eddie. Don't want to let too much cold in," Steve tilts his head towards the doorway.

"Oh, right, sorry," that kick starts Eddie again and he crosses the threshold, Steve close behind.

Robin and Dustin are currently occupying the bench just inside the door, taking off their shoes. Once Dustin has his boots off, he leaves the bench, heading to the kitchen. Eddie seems lost, just standing in the entryway, so Steve takes the spot Dustin just left and proceeds to undo the laces on his boots. He gets one boot done by the time Robin stands, wandering after Dustin once she's hung up her coat, scarf, and gloves. Eddie doesn't move still, so Steve pats the empty spot beside him.

"No shoes in the cabin. Dogs track in enough snow, don't need us doing it too," Steve says, then busies himself with his other boot.

He sees Eddie sit and begin to untie his- jesus, he's not even wearing boots. Just a black pair of sneakers. Eddie unties his shoes in silence, sitting rather stiffly next to Steve.

This quiet, obedient Eddie is not what he expected.

"You want something to drink?" Steve asks, once both of them are free of their shoes.

"No, thank you."

"Alright. Have a seat, then," he gestures towards the couch. The cabin door opens up directly into the living area, which Steve has set up as 3/4th a living room and 1/4th dining room, in that a small kitchen table is along the far wall. Beyond that wall is the kitchen, where Robin and Dustin are undoubtedly helping themselves to his coffee or hot chocolate.

Eddie shuffles off to sit on the edge of the couch, as close to the armrest as he can get. Now that Steve can see him closer, he can see he's added more piercing to his face than just the eyebrow ring he wore in high school. Snake bites, a septum piercing, and a second eyebrow ring next to the original. He's sure that if Eddie's hair wasn't covering his ears, he'd see more metal there. Eddie had hung up the coat he'd been wearing but under that is a hoodie he didn't take off, so Steve can only guess if he ever got those tattoos he'd been planning in high school. His entire outfit is black, which just makes him look sickly in the cabin lighting.

Steve drops himself into the chair facing the couch. It's Melody's favorite chair to curl up in, but Steve thinks she'll forgive him for taking it. There's tension in the room, so he tries to break it. "You look like you've seen a ghost, dude."

Eddie makes a weird nose, almost a whimper or a whine, but before he can say anything, Robin rounds the wall, holding a mug of hot liquid and she says, "Oh, I'm sure he feels that he has. I didn't tell me we were coming to see you."

"Robin!" Steve is shocked.

"What? You said you wouldn't mind getting some closure, so I got him here. Does it matter how?" She takes a seat on the opposite end of the couch from Eddie, making a show of how comfortable she is in the space by sitting cross-legged and leaning back against the couch, in comparison to Eddie who is sitting up completely straight, barely on the couch with how close to the edge he's sitting.

"Yeah, it does! If he's not here voluntarily- if Eddie doesn't want to talk to me you can't-"

"I do," Eddie says. It grabs Steve and Robin's attention and Steve sees Eddie almost wilt under their twin stares. He clears his throat before continuing, "I mean, I would have come still, if she'd told me. I do want to talk to you. Apologize for.... for everything. So much I don't even know where to begin, or how."

"Uhh, this feels like something personal," Dustin says from where he's standing with his own mug, hovering nearby. "Should I be here for this?"

Good question. Steve doesn't care if Robin and Dustin hear what they talk about, but Eddie might. "How about we just relax a bit. How was the drive?"

Eddie scrunches his face, a half confused expression on his face.

"Fine," Robin says at the same time Dustin says, "Tense as fuck."

"Those two things don't seem like they match," Steve says.

Dustin moves to plop himself on the couch in between Eddie and Robin, then quietly curses as his drink sloshes over the edge of the mug. He starts mopping at it with the sleeve of his shirt as he says, "Robin is a liar. The tension in the truck is going to linger that's how bad it was. I'll be feeling the tension every time I get in the rig. Clients will feel the tension when I pull up to their curbs!"

"It was not that bad!" Robin swats Dustin. Successfully this time, since there's no way for him to dodge unless he wants to spill his drink again.

Steve just laughs. "Robs, light of my life, mate of my soul, knowing you and your grudges, Dustin's probably going easy on the description of the tension here."

"Well, there wouldn't be tension if I was allowed to say what I want to say."

"Can we go, like, five minutes without your negativity?"

"My negativity!? I'm not negative, I'm rational and level-headed!"

"You are not sounding very level-headed right now."

Dustin chimes in, "Steve's right. Level-headed people don't have to shout that they're level-headed."

"What say you, Eds?" Steve asks, the old nickname slipping out. He doesn't have time to be embarrassed about it though.

Eddie stands quickly and flings his hands in the air, having reached an invisible limit Steve is unaware of, pacing about the living room as he basically shouts, "Why don't you hate me!? You should hate me! I hate me! I can't- why are you just sitting there, trying to have a-a decent conversation with me? You should be screaming at me! You should be mad! Why aren't you? My fuckin' song ruined your life!"

The silence in the living room is heavy following that, all eyes on Eddie. Even the dogs, who had been in various states of sleep, lift their heads and look in Eddie's direction.

He looks mortified by the out burst, and his face turns red. "I-I'm sorry. I- I'm just, I'm sorry. I need air."

They all watch silently as Eddie jams his shoes back on and goes out the front door without tying them or grabbing his coat.

Steve sighs, deep and annoyed. At Robin and himself. He looks to Robin and she looks shocked by Eddie's outburst. She was watching the door, but turns her head to meet Steve's eye, a small frown on her face.

"Well, it's not like he's going far," Dustin says. "You going after him?"

"I don't know if I should."

Dustin scoffs. "Don't be an idiot, of course you should. We drug that guy to the middle of nowhere to talk to you. He agreed to come to the middle of nowhere even though I could have been a hit man hired by Robin to off him in the woods and he didn't even complain. Didn't even question. I don't know what happened, but I think you two need talk it over."

Steve blinks at Dustin. "Since when did you get so wise?"

"I've always been wise. You just refuse to see it with your ageism. Go. Robin can fill me in on the beef, here in the toasty, cozy cabin, while you two chat in the cold, and freeze your asses off."

"I don't have ageism-"

"Wrong argument to be having, Steve!" Dustin interrupts. "And take another cup of coffee with you. Even if he doesn't drink it, dude doesn't have gloves either so y'know, warm the hands."

Steve does just that. Fills his other thermos with coffee, taking a chance by adding cream and sugar, before putting his boots, coat, and beanie back on. He throws Eddie's coat over his arm and tucks both thermos' against his body with that same arm so he can have a free hand to open the door.

Eddie isn't far. He's pacing back and forth in front of the truck, talking to himself.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Steve steps off the porch and makes his way to Eddie. "Hey."

The pacing stops and Eddie turns to look at Steve. They just look at each other as Steve approaches. Steve doesn't stop until he's close enough to reach out and touch before he shuffles the two thermos's to his other arm and extends the one with Eddie's coat on it out.

"Thank you," Eddie says, taking the coat and shoving himself into it quickly.

"Brought you coffee, too," Steve holds out one thermos and after a pause, Eddie takes it, too, then almost instantly brings his other hand up to cradle it, warming his fingers.

He looks up from the thermos and meets Steve's eye. "I am sorry, Steve. I'm sorry for how things ended between us, and for the song I wrote, and for-for not thinking about how people would be able to work out that you were the Steve from Hey Steve. You should hate me for that alone. I'm so sorry for everything that's happened because I didn't think of the consequences."

"I don't- I don't hate you man. Not... not anymore. Not for a long time."

"Well, you should!"

Steve frowns. He wants to argue because who is Eddie to tell him how he should feel? But that's not going to help anything. "When Robin called me. During her interview after the Grammy's and asked if she could tell the truth I never- I didn't know what she meant by the truth. But. Well, nothing she said was a lie, but it wasn't the full story."

Eddie stays silent, seemingly waiting for Steve to continue.

"Those first two years after our breakup were- I'm not going to lie, they were fucking awful. I think I received my first bit of hate mail the very same day Hey Steve released. It was harsh. All from the same person, but sent to my Facebook and my Twitter and Instagram. Guess they really wanted me to read it.

"And then, with each passing day, a new person, new message, just as awful. After three days I deleted Instagram and Twitter. Then I locked down Facebook but like- physical letters showed up at my house. I can't lie, it certainly felt like you'd ruined my life."

Eddie makes a wounded sound at that. "That's because I did! What I did was unforgivable and-"

"You don't get to decide for me if I forgive you or not!" Steve snaps. "I haven't actually said I did forgive you, did I? All I've said is I don't hate you."

That gets Eddie quiet again for a moment, then he says, "you ended up hospitalized because of me."

"Robin said I ended up hospitalized, and that's true, but it wasn't- It was more complicated that just being your, and your fans', fault. For people who were supposedly on 'your side' of our breakup, they used a lot of homophobic language. That's how my mom found out. The letters were easy enough to just get rid of because all the bad shit was on the inside, but someone sent a post card, and mom collected the mail that day. It's... I don't like talking about this."

"Then don't," Eddie is quick to say, "you don't have to explain anything to me, or make yourself relive these events. It's- you don't owe that to me."

"I think I need to. I wrote you a song, said I'd do it all again, and I meant that. I want you to understand why. Just. Just give me a minute."

Eddie nods and takes a sip of his coffee. He looks pleasantly surprised and takes bigger drink before his face falls into a frown as he stares down at the thermos and Steve has to look away. He turns and squeezes his eyes shut to continue. "Mom showed the postcard to my father, and he confronted me that evening. It was.... it didn't start off bad. He asked if it was true. That I was gay. I made a choice, then. I didn't have to; I could have lied. I could have told him I was straight and that I didn't understand what the postcard was saying, but I didn't.

"I knew how he felt about queer people, and I told him the truth anyway. I was bisexual. I thought it was a miracle that he didn't kick me out instantly. Instead, he calmly asked me if that meant I liked woman. I said it meant I liked more than just woman.

"Then he told me that didn't matter. That so long as I liked woman, I would be with a woman, and that we never had to speak of this again. And I told him no. He didn't get to decide that for me. He said that he would rather have a dead son than a faggot one. And I thought- I never- surely he was just meaning, like, metaphorically, right? Like, he'd disown me, kick me out or something so I scoffed and said- God, I was so stupid. I knew it wasn't safe, but I was so angry at him, I shouted 'dead or alive, I'm your faggot son so deal with it.' And he- he said 'dead it is' and he attacked me."

He hears Eddie suck in a breath, hears the crunch of snow in what could only be Eddie taking a step towards him but stopping after just one step. Steve doesn't know if he wants Eddie to close the distance and give him the hug he knows Eddie wants to do. Steve doesn't know if he'd welcome the embrace or not. He sucks in his own shaky breath, and continues, "He almost beat me to death that night. The only reason he didn't was because mom dialed 911," Steve turns around, looks at Eddie and sees the tears falling down his own face reflected on Eddie. "As far as I know, dad's still serving time for his attempted murder, so like, at least I don't have to worry about him. And mom... I don't even know what to think of that.

"She called 911, didn't want to see me die, I guess, but also couldn't have a gay son. She sold the house, and everything in it, while I was still in the hospital, and just... disappeared. Robin's family took me in. She told that story during the interview, you knoe, but I wasn't even at the house when that guy with the gun showed up. I was meeting with a lawyer.

"She-Mom was- I don't know what she was trying to do but she gave me the family business. The whole company! It felt like she was trying to buy my forgiveness, except she didn't ask for it and still hasn't contacted me. It's like... she felt guilty about what happened but hated me at the same time. Felt she needed to do something to alleviate her guilt? Or maybe she just wanted to cut herself free of the whole Harrington name; free herself from me and my father. I don't think I'll ever get closure for that one."

Steve quits talking, needs to take another moment. He'd already rambled on about more than he meant to but talking to Eddie had always done that to him. Afterall, before they dated, they'd been friends. He sips at his coffee, not knowing what else to say.

"Jesus, Stevie, I'm so sorry. I didn't know- It's no excuse but I'm just so sorry."

He doesn't think Eddie knows he called him Stevie, but it's nice to hear. "So, see, it wasn't your fault. Your song set things into motion, for sure, so it's nice to hear an apology, but like, if anyone is the bad guy in this situation, it's Richard Harrington."

"But Robin said she just had to help you move to here. That you still get hate mail, and doxxed. That's on me. I saw your list of addresses, Steve! You've had to move, like, eight times a year!"

Steve can't help the cackle that springs from him. He surprises himself with the laugh, and Eddie, too, if his wide eyes and eyebrows hidden behind his bangs are any indication. "I- yeah, I move a lot. And yes, this most recent move was because of a brick with Hey Steve scratched into it broke my living room window, but like, I've only had to move because of harassment like, four times, if I'm counting the whole mom-selling-the-house thing."

"What?"

Steve holds up a finger, adding a new one as he counts them out. "Mom sold house. Scary gun guy at Robin's. The year anniversary of your first album's release. I was still in Hawkins, figuring out what to do with all the money I'd, uhh, inherited I guess, so I was easy to find. And the most recent one. Not sure what inspired it this time. Usually, the hate mail resurges when you go on tour, but it's less and less every time. Anyway, none of those other moves are because of crazy fans."

Eddie blinks at him, a picture of confusion. "But I found a YouTube video and that guy- he showed all your old addresses. He said- I thought..."

"Well, there are a lot of addresses. But not because of your fans. I move for my job. Do you... did you even read the truck?" Steve gestures to Dustin's truck and Eddie steps around to see the printed H&H Project Flip and below that is their website.

Eddie looks back to Steve like that answers nothing. Which, fair, but it would answer a lot of questions if Eddie had looked up the website. "After that surge of anniversary hate, I knew I needed to get out of Hawkins. Robin was graduated, then, and headed to college. I decided I wanted to see more than just Hawkins. I followed Robin to college in Chicago, and uh, bought a house. A real fixer upper but that was fine. I had plenty of money to throw into it. On a whim I thought, what if I try to fix it. I had a lot of free time and if it ended up badly, I could afford to pay a professional to fix whatever I broke. I found that I loved doing that."

He's still just being looked at like he's not making sense.

Steve rolls his eyes, "I flip houses, dude. Me and Dustin. Harrington and Henderson Project Flip. I was in Chicago for three years, lots of addresses for that city. But then Robin pointed out there were a lot of states. That I should see all 50 of 'em by renovating a house in each. She'd moved in with her then-girlfriend by this time, so she said I should go. See the States at the least. So, I did. I find it easier to just live in the house I'm renovating, so I'm not paying mortgage and then rent somewhere else in the same city."

Eddie looks like he's had a rug pulled out from under him and he lets out a laugh that's a little hysterical.

"And moving so much has allowed me to meet so many amazing people, y'know? I got friends in all the states. So, like, yeah, you did ruin my life, but like, just my life from 18 to 20. So, yeah, I'd do it all again. Did you think I've been living in perpetual misery for the last ten years?"

"Robin certainly made it easy to assume that, so yeah!"

"I think she did that on purpose. To hurt you back."

"I deserve it," Eddie says. "I didn't even try to check in on you. Well, once, but when I couldn't find you on any socials I just. Gave up."

Steve shrugs. "I didn't reach out either. And if you'll remember, I broke up with you. Screamed in your face that we were over and went home."

"I don't know when, or even if, Corroded Coffin will tour again, but I swear to you, we'll never play or release Hey Steve again. And I'll release a statement, or go on camera, or something, and address this. I can't make it right, but I can make a change starting now, to do better and be better," Eddie says this while gripping his thermos to death.

"I believe you, and I forgive you."

Eddie nods grimly, then looks from Steve to the cabin, and back to Steve. "Do you think Robin will ever forgive me?"

"I don't know. You hurt her pretty badly, too. We were all best friends in school and when we broke up, you cut off Robin, too. And then, when she started to gain her own fame- I think when she first moved to LA, she thought you'd try to reach out. But you never did."

A silence falls over them, and Steve refuses to break it. He's done enough talking. They drink their coffees 'til they're empty before Eddie speaks.

"Where does this leave us?"

Steve thinks about it before answering. "You were my best friend before you were my boyfriend. You'd been in my life longer than you've been out of it. We don't have to be anything. We can have our closure and go our separate ways, if you'd prefer. But, I think I'd like another chance at being your friend."

"I can do friend," Eddie says slowly, like he's picking his words carefully. "I can. But, full transparency, I think I still love you."

It hurts to hear, after all the pain and the time, and it's a bittersweet kind of hurt. "I'll always love you, Eds. I meant it, you know, every word of the song. But I don't know if we can, or should, try again. We were so good until we weren't."

Tears spring from Eddie's eyes when Steve says he loves him, and they don't stop falling even as he's nodding along with everything Steve says. "No, I know. I know. I just, I needed you to know. Friend is, it's so fucking great. More than I ever expected, and certainly more than I dared hope."

"Come on. Let's go inside where it's warm and chat with Dustin and Robin like civilized people. I need a break from the heavy talk."

"Yeah. Me too. Thank you, Steve. For the chance."

Steve shrugs and shoots him a crooked grin. "Yeah, well, ruin this a second time and Robin will rip you to shreds on live TV, probably."

There's more to talk about. More hurts to heal and things to discuss, Steve knows. And maybe after all the talking, they'll learn they've changed too much to even be friends. But that'll be okay, because if that's how it goes, it'll be because they talked it out instead of screaming at each other in a living room.

If they've changed too much, this time, it'll end gently.

It doesn't stop Steve from letting a little bit of hope in. That this won't end, that they can find a way to be in each other's lives again.

As friends, or more.

[drpeppertummy]

Morty and marianne would be intriguing. :3c

i triedddd idk if i did either of them justice but i triedd

[hunger, stuffing]

Morty's belly rumbled as he pondered the extensive menu. It was a late Sunday night, so late that there was next to nobody in the little diner. It was strange to be there when it was so quiet; he normally went during the daytime, when it was noisy and busy and crowded. Now, where there would ordinarily be too much chatter and clatter to hear himself think, he could hear only soft music coming through the radio, punctuated occasionally by a little bit of noise from the kitchen. And, of course, his stomach.

Unable to process the ridiculous diner menu, Morty was just about to close his eyes and pick something at random when a shadow fell over him. He looked up to see a large, sturdy waitress smiling down at him, tall and broad, with a look in her eye that reminded him of a cat who's just cornered a mouse. He returned the smile.

"And how are you doin' tonight, cutie pie?"

"Starving," he answered honestly, and she laughed.

"I'll bet," she grinned. "I could hear your tummy growling all the way from over there. Don't you worry, sweetheart, you'll be lucky if you're not stuck in the booth by the time you're done."

Morty liked the friendly waitress--Marianne, her name was--and he was a little disappointed when she finally left the table with his order. After some hemming and hawing, she'd talked him into spaghetti with a side of broccoli and a baked potato, a bowl of Manhattan clam chowder, and an appetizer of mozzarella sticks on top of it all. You look like you could use a little extra, she'd teased, and he'd laughed and agreed. He was a scrawny little thing; weight just never seemed to want to stick to him.

It wasn't long before Marianne returned with the chowder and a Shirley Temple, and Morty perked up a little at the sight of her. His belly rumbled loudly as she set the bowl down before him. She giggled, and he smiled sheepishly up at her, a soft blush creeping onto his face.

"You better get eating," she said, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "I'll have your mozzarella sticks out in a few minutes. You go ahead and start filling that poor tummy up before it eats itself!"

Morty watched her go, still blushing, then gladly obliged. His empty stomach welcomed the hot chowder with open arms, the gnawing ache of hunger slowly fading as he wolfed it down. While his noisy belly made it plenty clear that he was hungry, he hadn't realized just how ravenous he'd been until the bowl sat empty before him not two minutes after Marianne had brought it out. His tummy felt taut after eating so quickly. He felt a gurgle bubble up inside him and just barely managed to stifle an enormous burp. His stomach deflated noticeably--he'd swallowed more air than chowder in his frenzy--and he let out a soft little sigh of relief.

"I bet that felt good," remarked Marianne, and Morty jumped. He hadn't noticed her approaching. He looked up, startled, and she laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, sweetpea, I didn't mean to scare you," she chuckled, giving his shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "I hope you saved some room for your appetizer, because they're nice and hot." She took her hand from his shoulder--he found himself missing it quickly--and replaced the empty bowl with a plate of mozzarella sticks. He wasn't nearly as hungry as he had been when he'd first walked in, but his mouth watered at the sight of them. Marianne smiled, amused and enamored by the way his big dark eyes followed them.

"I was worried that chowder was gonna fill you up," she teased. "I'm glad you still look ready to eat. I'll be back in a little bit with your dinner, alright, pumpkin? Make sure you save a little room." Morty nodded obediently, then, after she left him once more, gladly dug into the appetizer.

The mozzarella sticks were exactly as good as they looked. They were fresh and hot, as Marianne had said, and they were perfectly melty and stringy and crisp. The marinara was particularly good as well. Having sated his immediate hunger, Morty ate more slowly now, making sure to enjoy his food; it wasn't often he had such good mozzarella sticks. They were one of the few things he was picky about. If they were just a hair too cold, if the cheese was a smidge too firm, if the breading was a touch too soggy, he couldn't stand them, but these were some of the best he'd ever had.

By the time he finished his appetizer, Morty was feeling comfortably full. His belly felt warm and snug, and he could've called it quits right then and there and left perfectly content. Right then and there wasn't the time to quit, though, because no sooner had he finished than Marianne returned with his dinner.

"Hope you're not too full yet, because this smells fan-tastic," she beamed, sweeping away the empty plate and replacing it with the spaghetti, a vegetable on either side of it. The dish seemed dauntingly large, but the cozy aroma of it wafting up around him enticingly made his mouth and his stomach yearn.

"Y'know, that sweater seems awfully big on you," she teased, her voice dropping almost to a whisper as she leaned in closer. "I bet we could fill it out a little before you go, what do you think?" Morty blinked up at her, caught off guard, then grinned.

"I'm taking that as a challenge," he said, picking up his fork, and Marianne laughed and patted his back approvingly.

"Alright, that's what I like to hear! Eat up, cutie pie," she said, smiling brightly.

Morty took care to pace himself as he ate, not wanting to push his small stomach to its limit too quickly. He picked at his vegetables here and there, but his main focus was on the pasta. It felt hot, heavy, and bulky in his belly, which tightened ever so slightly with each swallow, but it wasn't an uncomfortable presence. He found pasta easy to eat a lot of, particularly when it wasn't overly rich, and the spaghetti, perfectly coated in a delicious tomato sauce, went down like a dream. Still, the portion was enormous, and he'd barely made a dent when he found himself slowing down.

He paused for a moment, holding one hand against his belly. It poked out round and taut. It didn't ache yet, but he could feel the discomfort looming on the horizon, and he knew he'd have to be careful if he wanted to finish a substantial amount of his dinner. As swollen as his belly felt, it was barely visible under his oversized sweater. He'd have a ways to go if he wanted to fill it out like Marianne asked.

"Oh, don't tell me you're full already," Marianne pouted, approaching the table.

"I'm just getting started," Morty lied confidently.

"Oh, good," she said, smiling slyly at him. "You had me worried for a second there!"

Morty was, in fact, full, but he wasn't going to let that stop him; not yet, at least. Determined, he dipped his fork back into the spaghetti and pushed on. His stomach felt undeniably and strikingly overstuffed now, stretching tighter and tighter as he forced more pasta into it, and the snug waist of his pants was beginning to grow uncomfortable as it hugged his bulging middle tightly. He could feel his belly bumping out against the soft fabric of his sweater, though, and he supposed Marianne would be happy about that. The thought made his heart flutter.

He rested a hand atop his belly as he ate, a little surprised at how sharply it curved outward under his chest. His stomach ached now, and that was no surprise; Morty was a small man, and his belly wasn't built to hold so much. The pressure inside it was tremendous. He paused again for a moment, bringing a hand to his mouth as he forced up a small burp. It didn't help much. His stomach was packed tight as a drum and then some with a solid mass of food.

Morty supposed he ought to quit before he made himself sick, but for some reason--maybe it was the crush he was rapidly developing--he wanted to give Marianne his best effort. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure nobody was looking, then leaned back in his seat, snuck his hands under his sweater, and unbuttoned his pants. The waist was pulled so tight around his belly that he had to suck it in to get enough slack to undo the button, a feat he could barely achieve at this point. His sweater was fortunately big enough to hide his open fly--he doubted he'd be able to get it back together again--but no longer big enough to hide the disproportionate curve of his distended tummy poking out from his skinny frame.

"Ooh, sweetie pie, you are looking stuffed," Marianne remarked, looking delightedly at his belly as she sauntered back over to the booth. "I think that cute little tummy's gonna pop if you eat much more." Morty couldn't argue with that. His stomach felt like it was straining to hold itself together around the enormous meal. Marianne leaned in close, a sly look on her face, and he looked up at her, his big dark eyes locking with hers.

"I bet you could fit just a tiny bit more though," she said, her voice soft and low. "What's your name, honey?"

"Morty," he responded, suddenly feeling a little shy.

"Morty," she repeated fondly. "Think you can squeeze in a little bit more, Morty? I'd hate to see you leave without eating your fill."

Morty thought about it, resting a cautious hand on his belly. It was taut and firm, pushing out hard, and he would've sworn he could feel the vibration of his stomach's restless gurgles under the tightly-stretched skin. He wasn't sure he could fit any more. His face felt warm under Marianne's stare, though, and he couldn't bring himself to say no to her. He nodded. She smiled approvingly, then gave his bulging side a gentle pat.

"You're a doll." She stood upright, squeezed his shoulder affectionately, and left him blushing and bewildered. He watched her go, feeling almost hypnotized, then returned his attention to the rest of his spaghetti. As he picked up his fork, he noticed Marianne out of the corner of his eye, watching him as she slowly wiped down the counter across the restaurant.

His stomach let out an uneasy gurgle as he twirled up a forkful of spaghetti, almost as if to beg him not to eat any more, but he ignored it. His belly groaned as he swallowed the big bite, and he thought he could feel it push out further as it strained around the new addition. Slowly, he managed another bite, and then another. The pressure inside his tummy was becoming unbearable. It was rock solid, far too full to suck in, and ached badly now, stretched well beyond its comfortable limit. He didn't think he could hold any more. Still, he was determined to get down one last bite.

His hand faltered as he scooped up one last bite. He stuck it in his mouth and chewed, but almost couldn't bring himself to swallow. Finally, reluctantly, he did, and his stomach gurgled miserably as it hit its absolute limit. He set down his fork and leaned back in his seat with a groan, looking down at his belly. It bulged out absurdly, and he felt certain that his pants would've popped open on their own by now if he hadn't unbuttoned them himself. It was so swollen that he barely had the space to inhale, and it quivered unsteadily with each shallow breath.

"Well, I'm impressed," said Marianne, leaning against the seat opposite Morty. "I'll tell you, Morty, I didn't think you'd get that much in there. Course, I don't think you're even gonna be able to get up, but that's alright. Now, how about some dessert before you go?" Morty groaned and let his head fall back against the seat, and she laughed.

"I'm just teasing, cutie pie," she giggled, stepping forward and patting his belly as she passed. "I'll go ahead and grab you a box."

[deckthehaus]

🎶 Oh, the weather outside is frightful

But these works are so delightful 🎶

Day 4 of Deck the Haus is here!

❄️❄️❄️❄️

Alone This Holiday (10,056 words)

Eric has been working hard towards his dream of a bakery but that's meant no time for social life or love. The baking set his Gram and Mama send him might just be the fix.

❄️❄️❄️❄️

(Do It on My) Twin Bed (5,193 words)

Nursey shrugs. Dex sighs all the way down to his toes. He can’t believe he’s going to do this, but he’s briefly haunted by the spectre of both Chowder and Bitty’s disappointed faces. That’s too much for any one man to be expected to handle.

“Alright, let’s go, grab your bag.”

“What?”

“You’re coming to Maine with me.”

“What? No, absolutely not.”

Fifteen minutes later they’re in Dex’s ancient pickup truck headed up the coast.

Or, Dex takes Nursey home for Christmas last minute and, wouldn't you know, there's only one bed. In Dex's childhood bedroom. This is fine.

❄️❄️❄️❄️

"It's Just a Little Snow...." (2,521 words)

A snowstorm diverts Whiskey and Kent from their planned travels and the only place they can stay is Jack and Bitty's cabin (chalet-mansion). Sex, angst, and peace ensure!

❄️❄️❄️❄️

Holiday Spirits (1,542 words)

Just a quiet little interlude after the events of a busy day.

[omgauplease]

We could not be more excited to open the curtain on Day 1 for the AU, Please! fest with these incredible works!

Subtext & Symmetry - Rated T - 80,918 words

Featuring: Derek "Nursey" Nurse/William "Dex" Poindexter, Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann, Larissa "Lardo" Duan/Shitty Knight, Chris "Chowder" Chow/Caitlin Farmer, Adam "Holster" Birkholtz/Justin "Ransom" Oluransi

Summary: What is it like to open a book and find your soulmate within? Dex is about to find out.

University student Dex works part-time for a local bookstore, receiving shipments and restocking the shelves and such. Someone leaves a handwritten journal behind during an open mic poetry night, and the bookstore manager asks Dex to please check (!) if there’s any information in it that could lead to its owner. Dex starts paging through it, and then reading it, and brings it home. As he keeps on reading, he slowly falls in love with the person who wrote all of the words. A person who hasn’t left enough clues in the journal to help identify who they are: A receipt for coffee? A feather? Part of a business card? A photograph or two, taped at the corners… A whole list of introspective questions and answers? It’s been months, but no one has come back to the bookstore to claim the missing journal.

.🎭🎭🎭.

Triple Bee - Rated G - 2,179 words

Featuring: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann

Summary: Jack is traded away from the Falconers mid-season to the Leafs and he is very grumpy about it. Luckily, he has a great support system willing to help him through the move, including the bored (but maybe cute?) host at the little B&B his parents booked him to stay at while he finds a new place.

A story told through Jack's texts and emails.

.🎭🎭🎭.

Flying, Fears, and Falling in...Something - Rated G - 1,855 words

Featuring: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann

Summary: It’s Bitty’s first time flying in an airplane, and he’s terrified. Before the plane even takes off, the overwhelming nature of his flight is compounded when he finds his seatmate is a level-headed, definitely-not-super-cute guy.

.🎭🎭🎭.

*bleep* Late Night Radio - Rated T - 691 words

Featuring: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann

Summary: Shitty hosts a late night radio where he gives advice and is bleeped out.

.🎭🎭🎭.

fond - Rated G - 579 words

Featuring: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann, Derek "Nursey" Nurse/William "Dex" Poindexter/Larissa "Lardo" Duan/Shitty Knight, Adam "Holster" Birkholtz/Justin "Ransom" Oluransi

Summary: A short series of snapshots into sweet moments between lovers and their daemons.

.🎭🎭🎭.

[Podfic] It's an Emergency! A Romance Emergency! - Rated T

Featuring: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann

Summary: A little Zimbits ficlet for the “A toddler broke your nose and I may or may not have snapped my thumb during a very intense game of Mario Kart and now we’re both sitting next to each other in the hospital waiting room” AU.

Podfic of It's an Emergency! A Romance Emergency! by rhysiana.

.🎭🎭🎭.

A reminder to all creators whose works are revealed today to please update your publication date to today so that your works are shown at the top of the feed on AO3.

Please also remember to show love through kudos and comments to our creators when you enjoy their work! ❤️

[tennessoui]

I'm a breakfast server and I just overheard a guy seated at one of my tables say "if you're going to cover up your illegal business with a restaurant, at least make the food good. There was this sushi place in [insert city] that was a front for human trafficking, but it was one of the best places I've ever eaten" and first of all bitch what but second of all I'm just thinking about playmaker now

Oh you bet that Anakin was really fine with whatever. He starts his criminal organization and he’s like sure we can just be operating from the shadows, that’s fine and effective

And then Rex is like “well…..I mean we COULD…you know….I’ve always wanted to open a restaurant….haven’t you ever wanted to open a restaurant??”

and Anakin is like “no.”

And Rex is like “well… I want to 👉👈”

And anakin is like “fine. If you think it’ll be easier to move about undetected, fine. We can have a restaurant. Maybe like chowder? Or spaghetti? I like spaghetti.”

And Rex whips out a blueprint for a Michelin star French restaurant and he’s like nO

and actually Rex wins

[etes-secrecy-post]

Hi, before I explain my post, I want to say something important.

• What you see my blog has become a major overhaul. And despite the changes, I decided that my 2nd account will be now my artwork blog with a secret twist.

⚠️NEW RULE! (W/ BIGGER TEXT!)⚠️

⚠️ SO PLEASE DO NOT SHARE MY 2nd ACCOUNT TO EVERYONE! THIS SECRECY BLOG OF MINE IS FOR CLOSES FRIENDS ONLY!⚠️

• AND FOR MY CLOSES FRIENDS, DON’T REBLOG IT. INSTEAD, JUST COPY MY LINK AND PASTE IT ON YOUR TUMBLR POST! JUST BE SURE THE IMAGE WILL BE REMOVED AND THE ONLY LEFT WAS THE TEXT.

⚠️ SHARING LINKS, LIKE POSTS, REBLOG POSTS, STEALING MY SNAPSHOT PHOTOS/RECORDED VIDEOS/ARTWORKS (a.k.a. ART THIEVES) OR PLAGIARIZING FROM UNKNOWN TUMBLR STRANGERS WILL IMMEDIATELY BE BLOCKED, RIGHT AWAY!⚠️

😡 WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT EVER LIKED & REBLOG MY SECRET POST! THIS IS FOR MY SECRET FRIENDS ONLY, NOT YOU! 😡

Okay? Capiche? Make sense? Good, now back to the post…↓

No #OnThisDay throwback post, instead I have this.

Title: SHIPping Experience

Last year, I've drew nine couples in one artwork during 💌 "Love Day"💘 (you know the one), then another couple has reunited after the return of Mocho 🐰🔵(Princkleminckle's OC). Links down below, if you want to see my artworks. But, one person who never been planning to get a date, and that's May 🐰👊💥 (Bryan360's OC). Since her debut, we haven't seen her planning to get a love with the boys because she's busying on herself for almost 10 years (kind a like me, in real life ☺ But, unlike myself...). That is until, my Chowder OC Aace Speedster 🐶🐺⭐ stepped in and he immediately had a love interest on May, as evidence from his wonderful story that I made it for him (again, links down below.). 😊 Finally, the new young love birds we're getting along from place to place, and among attractions that they visited is riding on the ship re-enacting the well-known 1997 romantic film, "Titanic". 🚢🌅 And since their wearing custom "Soft Rock" clothes courtesy of Aace's Speedster Twins, they can listen the wonderful Titanic's OST from Celine Dion → [CLICK ME!]. 🎧🎶😊 Man, who doesn't loved her beautiful song for "Love Day", huh?

Aace 🐶🐺⭐[wearing his custom "Soft Rock" clothes]: It surwe (sure) is! 😁 I learn this moment fwom (from) the mowvie (movie) I've watched. Such an emotional mowvie, though. 😊 Pwus (Plus), that wonderful music that we've wistened (listened) was icy on the top of our Valentine's Day moment cake! 🍰💘😋 We're the king and queen of the world, that's fow surwe (for sure). 🚢🌅😄

Me 🇵🇭: Ya sure do. Hehe 😄

BTW: I made a two different versions (shadow & flat), so you could see their full bodies. 🙂

Well, that's all for now and 💘👩‍❤️‍👨Happy Valentine's Day! 🍫🌹

Previous: • Aace's Music Love (Feb 1st, 2024) • Gerby ♥ Sallie Chips (Feb 13th, 2024)

2023: • The Wheel of LOVE (Feb 14th, 2023) • Love on a Ferris Wheel (Feb 27th, 2023)

Aace Speedster (Chowder OC) - created by ME! May (Rabbit OC) - owned by @bryan360 / BryanVelasquez87 (dA)

[sun-havenn]

prompt 195. “I read once that holding your breath can stop a panic attack so…when I kissed you…you held your breath.” for Liam maybe?

Gladly! Thank you for requesting!

It was an exceptional beautiful day, even for Sun Haven. It was warm, hot even. The morning had been slow, your animals were looking for shade and even your crops were looking like they were sweating by twenty past nine. A little before noon, you decided it was also too hot for you to do any work. Besides, everyone deserves a break, even on a random, hot, Thursday.

Luckily Liam didn’t live far, just over the little hill at the edge of your farm. You picked up a few cool blueberry salads, not his favorite, but refreshing and easy, and strolled over to his home, keeping close to the treeline and out of the sun.

By then, Emma and Elizabeth would be learning with Jun. You loved having dinner with them, but it had been awhile since you and Liam got to spend some time alone together. You were busy with your farms and traveling a lot. Liam had his hands full with the shop and his sisters.

It didn’t matter too much, You ate dinner together most nights and talked while doing the dishes and laughed softly after the girls went to bed. You loved those moments, but still, you missed him.

It was strange, the way you missed him. You’d been on a date a while ago, had the best time, but he hadn’t mentioned it again, and you had found it difficult to find a free moment long enough to ask him out again. Though that wasn’t the whole reason, you were kind of scared for a ‘no’. Would a rejection ruin your friendship? Perhaps not, but it would put an end to whatever flirty situation you had going on now.

You entered the shop, which was even hotter than it was in the sun. You walked straight to the ovens, looking for Liam. Sure enough, he was baking bread. “Hi,” you said with a smile, and Liam turned around. His cheeks were flushed, hair sticking to his forehead. He looked absent-minded, but a smile appeared when he saw you.

“Y/n,” he said, putting down the bag of flour he was holding. “What are you doing here?”

In response, you held up the food you’d brought. “I think it’s time for a break.” He glanced towards the batter he was making, and you knew what was coming next. “Come on, Liam! It’s too hot, you have enough bread. Just let it rest a little longer and finish it when it isn’t so hot. You’ll faint.”

Perhaps he noticed it, too, or, a silly part of you hoped, he wanted to spend time with you, too. “All right, let me just finish this dough.”

“Great,” you grinned, glad to be getting out of the heat. “I’ll get you a big glass of water for when you’re done.”

With his permission, you let yourself in his place, setting the table. It was hot inside, too, and you opened the windows to let wind through. After a few minutes, he joined you, drinking two glasses of water before he took a bite. “This is really good, thank you, y/n. I didn’t realize I needed a break this badly.”

He looked better already, his face back to his normal color. “If you still need some relaxing,” you began, not really knowing what you were going to say until you said it. “I though we could go for a swim at the beach. Just for a bit, we’ll be back before Emma and Elizabeth.”

He hesitated again, a strange look on his face. You mistook it for doubt, and tried to convince him: “It’ll be good! We can get them some clams, I can make them clam chowder for tonight, Elizabeth loves that dish. I know you’re hot, too.”

You blushed, realizing how the last sentence sounded, but you didn’t want to take it back. “Uhm, okay,” he said. “Just for a bit.”

--

Liam was quiet that day. It might be the heat, but even after playfully pushing him in the sea, his sullen mood stayed. You worried about him. You sat down on the beach, close enough to the water that the waves still washed over your legs. You patted the spot beside you, where he sat down.

“Here,” you handed him a light blue shell, different from the pink ones you’d gathered for the girls. He looked as if it was something strange. “For you.”

“Thank you,” he said, and you smiled at him before looking over the sea again. You’d come there a lot to fish, but the water was night, too. It was relaxing, and you weren’t as hot anymore.

“What’s bothering you?” You asked without looking at him. “Come on, I know you well enough to notice. You don’t have to talk about it, but you can.”

He sighed softly, and from the corner of your eye you saw him toying with the shell. “I know. It’s just... hard to talk about. I don’t even know if it makes sense.”

“It doesn’t have to make sense,” you let your legs fall, so they were touching his. despite the water occasionally crashing over you, his skin was warm. “I don’t have to understand, but maybe it will help you understand better.”

“Okay,” he said softly, fingers sinking in the wet sand. After a pause he began to ramble. You had trouble keeping up with what he was saying. He’d never talked as fast. It had something to do with Emma, who had more trouble than normal with reading, no matter how much he practiced with her. He felt like it was his fault, because he couldn’t make more time to practice.

You noticed he was getting out of breath, but he didn’t seem able to slow down. His fingers, still in the sand, were white from pressure. He was panicking. You frowned, placing a hand on his, trying to interrupt him and getting him to breathe. He didn’t seem to notice you, too wrapped up in trying to breathe and talk.

You didn’t know what to do, you were no Jun. Without thinking, you moved to your knees, pulling Liam’s face close to your own and interrupting him by placing your lips on his.

It was the first time you’d kissed him. Admittedly, you’d wanted to for awhile. It was a short kiss, one you broke off when his shoulders relaxed under your fingers.

He looked shocked, but he was breathing normally. You leaned back more. “Sorry,” you said, smiling at the sand. “I read once that holding your breath can stop a panic attack... so when I kissed you... you held your breath.”

“Yeah, I did,” he said. “Thank you, I think.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself in the shifting and and lapping water. “I didn’t want our first kiss to be like this, but... I didn’t know how else to help.”

For a moment he didn’t speak, relaxing a little more. “First kiss?” He asked.

He didn’t sound opposed to anything. It made you braver. “I’d like for there to be a second. A better one, if that’s okay with you.” 

“I’d like that,” he smiled more genuinely than he had since you startled him in the bakery. “I didn’t know if you would, after... well, our first date.” He didn’t need to say ‘and lack of a second one’.

“Actually, I’d like to take you on a second date, if you’d be okay with that.” Now that there was less chance of rejection, you realized how badly you wanted the certainty that he liked you, too. That he wanted more than what you were now. That he wanted what you did.

That seemed to surprise him. “Really?”

You felt guilty, because had he actually believed you wouldn’t want that? “Of course! I love spending time with you, you’re an amazing person.”

He looked shy in a way he hadn’t for awhile. Since the first time he’d rambled to you, before you got closer. “I think you’re really great, too.”

“So is that a yes?” You assumed so, and were correct to do so when he nodded with an almost tentative smile. “Great! How about we dry up for now and you can tell me again what’s been bothering you while we pick up your sisters?”

“I’m a lot less bothered now,” he admitted, standing up anyway. He extended his hand for you to take, helping you up. You were sticky with sea water and not yet dry enough to easily wipe the sand away. “But if you still want to hear about it...”

You were putting your shirt back on, but stopped to say: “Obviously! I want to hear everything you have to say, the good and the bad.”

“Oh,” he chuckled, a little nervous. “I didn’t realize so much flattery came with a second date.”

“Yeah,” you put your shoes back on, sure to find sand in them for the days to come. For once, it didn’t bother you. “There’s much more to come.”

You grinned at Liam, who smiled back as he tried to get most of the sand out of his hair. You made your way off the beach together, and once the sand transformed into grass, he started talking again, much calmer.

[levi-supreme]

Hi Rei! ✨ here comes my challenge hehe. Reiner is taking me out to a picnic (since it's summer over here lol). Thank you for accepting my request, I know I'll love it! 💖

Hello my dear Charlotte, thank YOU for trusting me to write for Reiner (my first time hehe, if you don't count the double date XD). I hope it's still summer for you, and I hope you enjoy your picnic date with your big bear!!!!!

There's a lot of dialogue in here, so I hope you're ready for it!! Also, here is your outfit hehe, and have fun on your picnic!!

Rei’s Ask Games: Valentine’s Day Special (closed!!)

"Bärchen, are you done?" Your voice chimed through the house. All you could hear was a muffled reply coming from the kitchen and you continued to twist your hair into a half updo, trusting your boyfriend to finish up with the packing.

A while later, Reiner came into the bedroom with a smile, telling you that all the food and cutlery had already been packed into the picnic baskets. As he went to wash up and change, you quickly went to look for the picnic mat and packed it inside another bag that you were bringing. Once he was done, the both of you prepared to leave for the park.

"Wait! You forgot one thing," you grumbled, muttering under your breath as you went back into the room. Reiner looked at you, feeling confused.

"You didn't put on sunscreen." You hastily squeezed a generous amount of sunscreen and smothered it across his face. Reiner's face turned into a small frown.

"It's only the sun, schatzi."

"I'm not letting you get skin cancer. It's summer." You continued to apply another layer of sunscreen on Reiner's neck. Satisfied, you washed your hands and the both of you left home.

Once you've reached the park, Reiner took the picnic baskets and your hand, looking for a nice, shady spot. There were a few families having picnics as well, and also friends having their small gatherings.

"That looks like a nice spot, bärchen," you pointed towards a huge tree, "let's go there." Reiner nodded and you made your way ahead. Laying down the picnic mat, Reiner set the baskets down and took out all the tupperware boxes, cutlery, as well as some plates and cups.

"Mmm, it smells good." You smiled as he opened up the lids filled with a cold pasta salad, cut fruits, a variety of cut meat and cheese, and also a thermos filled with hot seafood chowder. Your eyes widened as he opened the last tupperware.

"Are those causa rellena?" You wondered when did Reiner prepare it; you certainly didn't see him making any while you were busy preparing all the other dishes.

"Mhmm," Reiner pulled you close and gave your shoulder a small squeeze, "it is. I thought it would be a nice dish for our picnic." Taking one, you took a few bites and hummed at the familiarity of the taste, feeling yourself break into a small smile.

"it tastes exactly like how my Mami made it."

"I asked her for the recipe."

"Sneaky."

"As long as you're happy, schatzi." Reiner pulled you close again and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Come now, let's eat." The both of you began digging into all the lovely food. Taking some of the cheese, you spread it onto a salted cracker and added some ham on it, hearing the delightful crunch and feeling the burst of flavour in your mouth as you took a bite. Reiner was helping himself to a generous serving of pasta salad, humming with satisfaction as he tasted the cold refreshing sensation.

This year's summer was particularly hot and humid, and you were already feeling beads of perspiration dotting your forehead even though you'd only been in the park for less than half an hour.

"It's so humid today...." you muttered, dabbing some of the perspiration on your cheeks away. Reiner saw you fanning yourself and he quickly turned around, searching his pockets frantically for his handkerchief. Fishing it out of his trousers' rear pocket, Reiner was about to help clean off some of the perspiration when he saw you already wiping your forehead with a handkerchief in your hand. Before you could notice, Reiner pretended to wipe his mouth with the handkerchief.

"Y-yeah, it's a hot day," Reiner started fanning himself as well, quickly drinking some iced lemonade, "maybe we should have gone to the beach instead."

"The beach would be too crowded anyway." You chuckled, finishing up your cheese and crackers before taking another causa rellena. "It's nice here." With another smile, Reiner and you continued to eat, watching the scenery ahead of you. The heat from the sun left your skin feeling prickly, and the summer breeze gently rustled the leaves. It was a lovely and warm day; peaceful and tranquil. Yet, something just didn't feel complete.

"I feel like we're missing something," you suddenly mentioned out of nowhere again when Reiner was eating a causa rellena. "Hmm......" You put down your cup and searched through your bag while Reiner watched you curiously.

"What are you looking for?"

You continued searching through your bag and pulled out the very thing you were looking for, giving your boyfriend a triumphant smirk.

"Schatzi, why you do have a radio in your bag?"

"Just in case." You gave him a huge smile and turned on the portable radio in your hand, tuning around the dials to find the perfect channel.

"Just in case...?" Reiner gave you another bewildered look, laughing out loud after a while. You cocked your eyebrow. Reiner cupped your cheeks and gave them a squeeze. "You really never fail to surprise me every day, schatzi."

"Yeah, I know, bärchen, I'm amazing." You giggled, smiling after you tuned the radio to the channel you wanted. As the radio played tune after tune in the background, you both cleared out all the tupperware boxes of food, satisfied with the amazing meal. Reiner was thinking of what else to do to kill time, but you had other ideas. You took of your footwear and walked on the grass.

"Bärchen, come here," you gently called out to your boyfriend who looked like he was about to doze off under the afternoon sun. He trotted over and you held his hand. You looked at him with wide eyes, "spin me around."

"Huh?"

"Go on, spin me." Reiner lifted your hand and twirled you around, watching your long hair and dress move with the momentum too. The both of you locked eyes and as you gave him a sweet smile, Reiner looked at you with adoration.

"My turn," you chuckled. Reiner was very much taller than you were, yet as you lifted your hand up, Reiner did a clumsy little spin too, nearly stepping on the picnic mat.

"Let's dance, bärchen." You looked at him and took his other hand as you started to twist and turn your body, letting your dress sway with the wind. Reiner looked at you and suddenly pulled you into his embrace, hugging you tightly with another smile on his face.

"I love you so much, Charlotte."

Beaming, you hugged him a little tighter, "I love you too."

I hope you like this bby!!!! I know I warned you that there's a lot of dialogue, but this is probably the most amount of dialogues I've written in a drabble EVER XD

I hope this Reiner matches the Reiner you have in your head too my darling!!!!

[rosemaryreaper]

Chapter 1 of “Case by Case” is posted

The first chapter is up on AO3! There are five chapters total (not Mad Witch length chapters, I promise), which I’ll be posting over the next few days, partly to avoid spamming subscribers with emails, mostly because it’s 1 am and I need to go to bed.

Link to Chapter 1 here (4845 words)

AO3 Summary: It is 2279, eight years before the Sole Survivor leaves Vault 111 and three years before Diamond City's Anti-Ghoul Decree. Missing person cases are piling up faster than the overworked Detective Nick Valentine can handle, including the disappearances of two of Diamond City's own residents. A chance encounter with a pickpocket, however, leads to an unexpected opportunity...and a new friendship.

What have I learned from this? I have no desire to write any kind of noir and despite hours of research couldn’t bring myself to commit to it. Nick Valentine is still one of the most difficult characters to write well. Did I try? Yes. Did I succeed? No. Did I have fun? Yes. So here you go.

Chapter 1 Preview: 

Diamond City, the Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth, was not what it once was. But neither was Detective Nick Valentine. 

Nick had vivid memories, two hundred-year-old flashes that didn’t belong to him, of when the stadium had been called Fenway Park. It had been a symbol of Boston then, home to America’s beloved pastime. It had been a place of ball games and concerts, long lines and packed bodies, and enough noise to wake a sleeping behemoth. He had attended a game once, the Nick that wasn’t him. Every time he walked through the main gate, he involuntarily recalled summer heat, Nuka-Cola infused sweet onions, spilled clam chowder, and a woman’s laughter. He didn’t have a clue which teams had been playing or who had won. The woman’s laughter tended to drown everything else out. That, and memories of food he couldn’t eat. 

As had most things, Fenway had died with Nick. There were no more ball games and concerts. No more long lines at the gate. Instead, there was Diamond City, a settlement that had literally been built up from the ashes. By pre-War standards, it was a shantytown: a haphazard collection of leaning houses cobbled together from scraps and arranged around a small nuclear reactor. By today’s standards, it was a goddamn paradise. By Nick’s standards, it was the love of his life. 

Nick loved Diamond City because it was the first thing in the hundred or so years since he had been built that belonged to him and him alone. There were no foreign memories here, not like with Fenway. When he had walked up to the gate that first time and a dozen guards had trained their guns on him, that memory was all him. 

Diamond City hadn’t always loved Nick back. Their relationship was complicated and ever-changing, just like the city itself. The eyes that followed him, the furtive, distrustful glances, hadn’t gone away in the decades he’d lived here, but they had allowed him to build a life for himself. From Handyman Nick to Detective Valentine in a matter of months, people sought his help when they were in trouble, whether or not they would admit it. The guards nodded to him when he walked through the gate now rather than sounding the alarm. It had taken time, but he had earned, if not Diamond City’s love, at least its tentative respect. 

But nothing was going to grow simpler anytime soon. Not by a long shot. There had been an odd tension in the air lately, the kind that caused people to whisper behind their hands when they saw him and startle when he approached them from behind. Despite this new trend in behavior, business hadn’t slowed. If anything, it had doubled, while the stack of closed cases on his desk remained concerningly the same height. Today, as Nick walked through the gate empty-handed for far from the first time these past few months, he wondered what the future held. For far from the first time, he came up with nothing good.

[nuagederose]

kinktober 2022 // day twenty-nine: last day in paradise prompt: body worship (courtesy of @the-purity-pen) pairing: alex/jeff (like blood from a stone) also on ao3 💋

California was the kind of place where one needed a car to get anywhere, but the beauty in this was that only about a couple of hours stood in between us over in the Bay Area and a place like Lake Tahoe. Since Chuck and I had ascended to royalty, and Chuck himself had gone off to head a supergroup with Zetro as well as a couple of other royals, I was eager to leave the house for a couple of days and head on over to the mountains for a weekend alone. I had told him about what our part-time chef had done to me with that decadent food and he couldn’t help but laugh all the while: not at the little belly slightly hanging above the waistband of my pants, but rather at the fact that that would happen. Well, it did, and I had an extra thirty pounds on my body.

After I had been fattened up a bit by Chuck and all of his delicious food, I needed to lose it. Of course, it was easier said than done because it was so delicious and I couldn’t stop eating it, and moreover, I was headed up to Tahoe by myself. I figured that a bit of hiking around that vast lake would help out with the extra full curvature all around my waist.

When I took my seat behind the wheel and I put the belt around my waist, I glimpsed down at myself and let a frown cross over my face. An extra thirty pounds and it all weighed itself down on me. I set a hand upon there and I could feel that soft flesh under my shirt, a little bump on my waist that rode itself upon my hipbones. I had been slim and trim this whole entire time and yet I let myself be overcome by my own desires.

I sighed through my nose and I started up the car. Chuck had promised me a couple of cars with drivers somewhere down the line, perhaps when he and Zetro returned from the business at the helm: but for the time being, I drove myself out of our neighborhood and that little corner of California due south of the Bay Area. I kept my sunglasses on over my face and my hair down over my shoulders.

It was another warm day there in the northern part of the Central Valley, and one where I rolled down the window and I let my curls sprawl out over my shoulders and the upper part of my back. I kept my left arm rested upon the top part of the car door and my fingers curled around the rim of the steering wheel.

There was a point in which I drove through all of those interchanges on the outskirts of Sacramento where I had completely forgotten about my belly and my little weight problem. The late morning sun shone down over me and the car, the air smelled fresh despite it being the outskirts of the city, not a lot of traffic on the road before me given it was the middle of the week: and yet, it wasn’t until I meandered around a big curve when I could feel it weighing me down in the seat.

At that point, I realized that I could not get to Tahoe sooner. The road up to the southern edge of the lake was a long and lonely one, but one that I could take without a second though.

As I made my way up the hill, and the vegetation around me switched over from that scraggly brush to tall pine trees that towered over me, I could feel the chill of fall in the air. Though it was the middle of springtime, the winter and the autumn never really left this part of California. I made my way around a bend and a gust of wind from the mountain summits sent a shiver down my spine.

But I persisted through those alpine woods before I finally couldn’t take it anymore and I rolled up the window. It was right then I wished that I had brought at least a sweater with me.

All the while, a small part of me told me to forget it, to go to the nearest lodge and help myself to some clam chowder and a big fresh roll of bread straight out of the oven followed by some blueberry cobbler, but I came up to the lake for a reason.

At the same time, clam chowder sounded so delicious. Clam chowder with a couple of matzo balls, straight out of the oven. I figured that would be delicious rather than a roll of French bread.

The mere thought of it made me hungry. But I shook my head and fought back against it as I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. I hadn’t eaten since early that morning when I first woke up before the sunrise, but that was about it, however. I needed to lose that weight. I needed to lose that weight as I leaned over the steering wheel a bit.

The road before me made its way into a vast canyon and I could feel the springtime returning through the Plexiglas: when the pavement straightened out before me again, I rolled down the window again.

I was greeted by the fresh smell of the pine along the sides of the road: I peered up to the pure clear blue sky, and even with the lack of clouds, I expected some rain to fall at some point when I reached the lake’s southern shore.

The smell of the pine, though so wooden and all too natural for me, only made me hungrier. Hunger met with the desire to work out on the hills and shed that extra weight. Hunger met with that desire plus the fact that I was driving along a four-lane road on my way to the lake’s Nevada side.

The road wound its way around the bend and I beheld the initial view of the lake there before me at the left.

Those vast blue waters that stretched out before me. The rugged tops of the mountains that rose up above the whole entirety of the shoreline. Every so often throughout the trees, I spotted some of those high-dollar houses peppered along the hillsides. Though I had become royalty, the mere sight of them made me recoil back into the seat a bit.

I was hungry in every which possible and yet I needed to overcome it all. If I overcame it all, I could come out the other side with it all. I could reward myself after the fact.

But when I made my way around another bend to a small neighborhood, I almost couldn’t take it a second longer. I had to stop and catch a breath of fresh air and stretch my legs.

I reached the rim of the neighborhood and I noticed that I was about a mile away from the heart of South Lake Tahoe. A whole mile away, at least that was from my perspective. I could climb out and lock up the car and take that walk to the first restaurant near the closest side of town.

I passed a gigantic stone house with a black roof and a vast driveway lined with a wrought iron fence and I thought I was going to pass out right then and there in the seat. I pulled over and I killed the engine. I leaned over the rim of the steering wheel and closed my eyes for a few seconds.

Though I hadn’t moved around much in that seat, my heart hammered inside of my chest from the lack of food in my belly.

I opened my eyes and I leaned back in the seat with my hands down in my lap for a moment. I gazed up at the top of the windshield and I parted my lips all to better breathe.

I wondered if I walked around outside of the car there, I could feel a little better about myself and I could bring back my strength.

I rolled up the window and I climbed out of the driver’s seat. I locked up the car and I let out a low whistle and ran my fingers through my curls before I made my way up the road towards the center of town. I peered over my shoulder for one final look at my car.

My stomach ached and I brought my hands up to better comfort myself. But it wasn’t enough, though. When I walked along the side of the road, between the lane there and the low evergreen hedges, I could feel my knees quivering with each and every step.

“Alex?”

I lifted my head and I looked right across the road to find Jeff, that boy about my age who sat next to me in most of my classes, perched upon a bright red bicycle and with a black helmet rested upon his head.

“Hey,” I called out to him and I grimaced at the sickly hungry feeling inside of me. I hoped that he wouldn’t see it on my face as he looked both ways and then rode on over to me.

“What’re you doing up here?” I asked him.

“I came up here to have some time alone,” he replied. He hopped off of his bicycle and unfastened the strap underneath his chin: he locked eyes with me for a short moment, albeit a moment long enough to see my face for himself.

“What’s the matter?” I asked him.

“You look pale,” he pointed out. “You look like you’re about to fall ass over teakettle down the rocks here. You feelin’ okay?”

“I feel pale,” I said, out of breath. “I feel pale and gross. I haven’t eaten since early this morning.”

He gaped at me.

“Why?” he demanded. “You’ve got to eat, Alex—you know that. I know that and I don’t even have to tell you.”

“I’m just—I'm too fat,” I told him.

“What?” Jeff was stunned. “You’re not fat, Alex.”

“Yes, I am! Look at this poochy gut on me.” My hands on my waist and I gave myself a little shake: I could feel it there, taunting me. Jeff nudged my hands out of the way and he looked on at me from the side: the fabric of my shirt pressed against my waist and he showed me a little smile.

“It’s a cute little tum, Alex. Really, I can’t even see it unless I really look at you like how I'm doing right here. Really, it’s nothing to worry about.”

“But I feel so round, though,” I confessed with my arms folded over my chest. I let out a low whistle and I thought about sitting down right there on the side of the road; Jeff stood before me and gave my belly a little pat.

“Come with me,” he beckoned me.

“Why?”

“Come with me,” he repeated. “Come with me—I'll take you to get something to eat and fill up your belly. You look like you’re about ready to faint.”

“I don’t like being told what to do,” I confessed to him.

“I don’t, either,” he said. “Although, there is a lot of comfort in having someone take care of me, though. Lar and I are best friends and I feel like when we get hitched, he’ll be the one in charge. He’s like you, a student of Satriani. He knows how to lead and shit.”

“Really?” I was stunned by that, especially when I felt the opposite about Larry. I had remembered seeing him in the guitar lessons with Joe Satriani and he had always lingered in the back of the room with his attention pointed to himself. Perhaps there was in fact more than met the eye with him, and he had grown away from his milquetoast ways from back then.

“Yeah, really. But I have the same feeling of wanting to lead, too. And I want you to come with me into town here and have some lunch with me. I was about to head on back, anyway.”

I let out a low whistle and ran my fingers through my hair once again.

He adjusted the strap on his helmet and closed it again; my legs shook as I climbed over the back of his bicycle seat. It felt so good to lean up against his back, even though I didn’t have my helmet on over my head. I leaned my head against his back and I kept my hands pressed onto his hips all to steady myself.

There was no denying it: I had to be fed. I was so hungry.

Jeff wheeled the bicycle around and he pedaled up the road. I thought of closing my eyes but I knew that if I did, I would not have that lovely view of the lake waters and the mountaintops which towered up to the blue sky. I also worried about falling off of the back of the bike seat.

It was a whole mile before the center of town, too. It felt like a whole entire mile.

We passed by the welcome signs to the south shore followed by a few trees and that was when I lifted my head for a view of the town before us. Jeff brought us to the nearest café to that side of the town and I could already taste the cobbler and the clam chowder.

It felt like a hallucination as Jeff led me inside of there and we indulged, and out there on the porch in the sun no less.

I had very little memory of it as I devoured into my food. But then my memory returned to me once I had already eaten about half of my big piece of blueberry cobbler; it was then I realized that it was blueberry rather than gooseberry.

I didn’t care, however: all I cared about was that I was eating a big hearty slice of cobbler after a big sandwich and a cup of rich coffee with a little kiss of creamer.

“Man, you really were hungry,” Jeff told me.

“I was hungry and I was driving along a winding, mountain road, too,” I added as I leaned back in the chair. “Thank you for this—I needed this so much, to be perfectly frank with you.” He showed me that wide-lipped smile as he picked up a spoonful of clam chowder himself: he lowered his gaze to my chest and my stomach, followed by my hips and my thighs.

“You actually have a very nice body, Alex,” he told me, and my face grew warm at the sound of that. I brought my hands closer to my waist to hide myself from his wandering eyes, but he still looked on at me anyway.

“Thanks, man. You do, too. You’re like—soft.”

“Nah, you’re the soft one, Alex,” he pointed out. “I’m just the guy who happens to be here.”

I cracked him a smile and I reached for my cup of coffee once again for a big swig of it, and then I picked up my fork again for more of that scrumptious cobbler with that warm crispy crust and those fresh berries within. I ate up the rest of it in a few more bites, and then I washed it down with the coffee.

He finished the rest of his coffee and then he gave his mousy brown hair a little toss back with a flick of his fingers.

“Want to take a walk on the beach?” he offered me.

“Yeah. Might as well. I came up here to be in nature, anyway.”

“Me, too, man,” he told me, still with that little smile upon his face.

When I stood up, my knees remained steady and I felt so much better after eating all of that lush, fresh food. I ran my fingers through my hair again and I let the breeze from the lake wash over me. I felt so good, so nourished, that I nearly forgot the shape of my belly once again.

Jeff led me to his bicycle parked there in the bike rack and he climbed on first; I took to the back of the seat and I rested my hands on his shoulders. As we rolled away from the café, I bowed my head lest a cop see me without a helmet on.

We crossed the highway and we made our way down the closest street which I soon figured brought us down to the water’s edge. He barely pedaled as we followed the groove of the road, all the way to the very end. Though winter and autumn still remained in the mountains on the western side of the lake, springtime was very much in full swing over the vast, partially rocky shores of Lake Tahoe. I shivered from the feeling of the cool but sweet breeze over our heads and shoulders.

We reached a dead end in the pavement and he brought us to the pale stretch of sand beyond that, the sand down to the shore’s edge. We were met with a series of boulders and some bushes right by the lake’s edge before the ground dropped out to those gentle lapping waters down below. The path narrowed out to a row slender enough for just a couple of guys like us rather than a bicycle, and he skidded to a stop as a result.

“This path looks like it goes down to the water,” he told me.

“I want to walk, anyway,” I confessed to him and I climbed off of the back of the seat. I stretched my arms over the crown of my head so the hem of my shirt lifted off of my skin. Jeff climbed off of the seat and he brought the bike over to the nearest tree on the side of the sand, and he propped it up on the narrow little stand.

I closed my eyes and I let everything hang out for the southern side of the lake waters. Jeff cleared his throat as he came back up to me.

“You have a beautiful body, actually,” he corrected himself from earlier. I turned my head, still with my arms extended up over me. The hem of my shirt still remained over my waist and the belt of my jeans. He showed me a sweet little smile as his eyes swept over me.

“A very beautiful body,” he added, that time in a lower voice. I slipped my fingers into the roots of my hair, all to feel the softness at the back of my head. I could feel my face growing warm and soft at the sound of his voice. He inched closer to me and he put his arm around the small of my back; all the while, he set a hand on my right hip.

“Very soft... and very beautiful,” he continued.

“That’s just—way too kind of you, Jeff,” I sputtered.

He moved my body towards me and he brought his face close to me.

“I want to praise your body, Alex,” he said over the waves down below us. “I want to praise you so much. I want to praise and nourish and love your body—in a way that I could never do for Larry.”

I was shocked by that. He and Larry were best friends. I had become a crown prince with a personal chef. I had never heard a peep from him before everything else.

“What are you saying?” I demanded.

“I want to be yours for a day,” he said right into my ear. “I put food in your belly and I want to love your body. Every last inch. Every last part of you. I want to kiss every inch of your body.”

I relaxed at that; he put his other arm around my waist. He ran his hands down my hips and the seat of my pants.

“Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me—” He brought his lips close to mine and he treated me to a soft little kiss.

I pulled back and I stared into his face.

“Where’s all of this coming from?” I asked him, taken aback.

“I’ve always wanted to know what you’re like up close and personal,” he replied in the softest voice yet. “My classmate. My neighbor. The friend I've always known but never actually really known before. I want to know everything about this. I want to feel it and I want to treat you, not like a prince, but like a king. Be a king, baby boy.”

He gave me another kiss and I almost fell back onto the sands from the feeling.

“I have to sit down,” I begged him.

“Go ahead, baby,” he told me. I lunged onto my back and I spread my legs open for him. The bottom hem of my shirt stayed lifted up off of my skin all the while. He ran his fingers through that smooth hair and he ran his tongue along his lips at me.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered.

He lunged for me and he undid my jeans for me. I held still and I let my belly relax from all of the food that I had eaten as well as the fact that I had gone so long without eating anything. He tugged my jeans down my hips, followed by my underwear. He raised his eyebrows at the sight of me there before his face.

“Look at this beauty,” he told me. “I want to please this beauty forever. I want to make him so happy.” He held onto me and he brought his attention up to me. “I want to make you so happy for a day.”

I stayed still and I let him run his fingers over my skin.

I had never been worshipped before, let alone have my dick revered in this way before. I lay my head down on the sand’s surface and I reached my hands up above my head: I closed my eyes and parted my lips. Jeff’s tongue ran along the side of my shaft.

I gave myself to him and yet he was the one who gave himself up to me. I was in charge. I didn’t like to be bossed around; he didn’t, either. But he wanted to do it for me.

It was all about me right then, and it gave me such a powerful feeling, one that I had never felt before, not even once in my life.

It left me feeling naked, out in the open, completely exposed, and yet there was something about the thought of being in charge, added by the fact that we were right by the water’s edge. I had become the prince with his most luxurious crown, and Jeff had yet to hitch his wagon to Larry’s horse. And yet Jeff was giving himself to me, with his tongue and the loving caresses of his fingers. He moved his lips to my waist for a few little kisses there, which tickled like crazy.

I was in charge. I wanted to do something for myself, to please myself, and with him there at the helm before me.

I fought through it and I pushed myself up onto my elbows.

I lifted up and he fell onto the seat of his pants. I climbed up onto my knees.

“Take me under,” he beseeched.

“Oi, I’m the one in charge.” I pressed a finger upon his brow, right at that spot between his eyebrows and his nose. He crossed his eyes and showed me the tip of his tongue at his two front teeth.

“Look at me,” I commanded in a broken voice.

“I’m—” He dropped his gaze to my body for a moment.

“Look at me.”

“I—” He let out a gentle squeak that sounded like an oblong wheel.

“Look at me, Jeff!”

“Big Kahuna,” he blurted out.

“Suck my dick,” I commanded, and he buried his face right into my crotch. He sucked me so hard that I tilted my head back and opened my mouth. No sound came out; the waves down below made more noise but there was no way I wanted to make a lot of sound right then. Not out there out in the open. Not within a stone’s throw from the beaches and the harbor up the shoreline from there.

“I am completely yours,” he whimpered up to me.

“Completely mine for the day,” I cooed to him with a stroke of the back of his head, the back of that smooth brown hair; my heart pounded inside of my chest and I could feel myself rising while in his mouth. “Completely mine for the day in paradise.”

As the words left my lips, I could hear him swallowing over the sound of the waves down below. Completely mine for that day in paradise.

[stain-glass]

Chapter 15 - Chowder

Peter coffin, the landlord of Spouter Inn, recommended an inn and great chowder spot for them to stay at when in Nantucket. It is run by his cousin (so same crazy energy). He gives them instructions that they immediately argue about upon landing (like an old married couple) and end up asking locals for navigation help.

When they find the inn, ishmael sees a death omen and fears what it could mean but then shakes the fear away.

The inn is just like spouter inn, except a lady in charge and she does everything and very competent (feminist representation?). Things are decorated with lots of fish bones and clam shells (even the jewelry).

The lady, Mrs. Hussey, is busy and ask clam or cod and I swear, with no ounce of sarcasm or joking, Ishmael literally thinks that she is going to serve them cold clams for dinner and freaks out if it will be enough to feed them and if a cold dinner is even okay.

Lucky he smells the soup and they enjoy delicious chowder of both kinds.

They, of course, share a room/bed (even though this place definitely has extra rooms if they wanted) but Queequeg's harpoon has to stay in the supplie closet due to a suicide incident that happened before.

[ghostwriterofthemachine]

Moby Dick Chapters 13-16

WE HAVE REACHED NANTUCKET, FOLKS. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. WE HAVE FINALLY FUCKING STOPPED FUCKING AROUND IN NEW BEDFORD AND REACHED NANTUCKET.

We also have the ship Pequod and a name-drop and general description of Ahab! Progress!!!! The actual plot continues to threaten!!!! Like that stupid whale!!!!

Love how much of this text is: Melville: sets up a bunch of symbols of death around Ishmael everywhere he goes, particularly around places that have a lot to do with whaling Ishmael: I sure am seeing a lot of death symbols around! That’s troubling! Me, the reader: you’re not supposed to notice things like that, character-in-this-text!!!

UNHINGED MOMENTS IN THESE CHAPTERS: - There is a chapter dedicated to chowder and how good it is and how Ishmael cannot understand how to order it properly. - During this chapter, he goes into the kitchen and yells “COD!” and is shocked when that cause someone brings him out a bowl of cod chowder. - Some random background character waits around for a landlady to finish her business and return to finish yelling at him. - Ishmael talks to a bunch of old Quakers and accidentally starts talking with “shan’t” and then goes “why the fuck did I do that?”

Our first introduction to Ahab is: “Don’t judge him for his name, his mother was unwell and named him something terrible. He didn’t get to pick it himself. Don’t say that he’s wicked just because his name is. He’s a good man. He’s got a wife. That being said, he’s been real fucked in the head since a whale bit off his leg, but that’s to be expected. We see no problems in giving him this command for 4 years. This cannot go wrong. This is not a suspicious conversation at all.” Ishmael: You’re right, this isn’t a suspicious conversation! I am convinced!

[fratboykate]

I’m bored home with covid…

Do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions?

Favorite:

DOP

Editor

Photographer

Composer (for movies) or non movie related

Color

Food (dish)

Piece of forniture

Part of LA

Club/bar/restaurant in LA or outside

Sport (if any)

indica/Sativa (strain)

Animal

Part of the world outside LA and you home country

Fruit

Vegetable

Sweet/candy

Toothpaste

Pen/pencil

Kitchen utensil

Soap

Perfume/essence

Herb or spice or both

Piece of clothing

Anyway have a good day!

I'm not putting much thought into these so some of these might change if you ask me any other day:

DOP: Off the top of my head because of things like Hard Candy and His House (and obviously all the Hunger Games and Red Sparrow too but I wouldn't call those his best...HC and HH are his top work in my opinion) I'd say Jo Willems

Editor: Don't really have one?

Photographer: seeing as I literally have an entire wall dedicated to him in my apartment Gregory Prescott. I own a lot of Slim Aaron's books and have quite a few of his prints hung around my apartment too. I'd say they're the two photographers I own the higest number of prints/art from.

Composer (for movies) or non movie related: Don't really have one either.

Color: Red and orange.

Food (dish): The real ones here know that I'm A SLUT for a clam chowder lol

Piece of furniture: my entire apartment is mid-century modern. That's really my aesthetic so...anything in that vibe is what I go for.

Part of LA: I'm not a west side person AT ALL. I don't fuck with the west side vibe. I also really like the valley. I lived there for five years.

Club/bar/restaurant in LA or outside: It changes but I'm REALLY into The Rooftop by Jean-Georges lately. It's on the rooftop of the Waldorf Astoria in Beverly Hills. Has a great view, amazing cocktails, and fantastic food. You're not going to find a bunch of 20 somethings there so it's not like POPPING VIBES but great for business meetings, covid safe because it's outdoors, and just chill for a nice hangout drinks/dinner with friends.

Sport (if any): Don't really do sports

Indica/Sativa (strain): I'll take anything you give me lmao. But I don't really smoke anymore. I'm an edibles girlie. I haven't smoked in years but i'll do any and all edibles and THC pills.

Animal: Fun fact - I've never owned a pet. I've lived with roomates that had animals but *I* have never had an animal that was mine. Favorite animal would be a sloth tho.

Part of the world outside LA and you home country: Budapest. That place is on another level for me. Magical. I can't even describe what it felt like to be there.

Fruit: Seedless green grapes have crack in them and no one can ever convince me otherwise.

Vegetable: In the last year I've become really obsessed with peas.

Sweet/candy: My favorite sweet thing in the world is cheesecake. You could get me to jump in a windowless white van if you dangle a piece of cheesecake in front of me.

Toothpaste: Lmao what...people have a favorite toothpaste? I'll use anything.

Pen/pencil: I'm really particular about pens. I'll ONLY use black pens and they have to have a certain thickness and like...the way they roll on the paper has to be very specific.

Kitchen utensil: A sharp knife? Idk lol

Soap: Aesop Geranium Leaf Body Cleanser

Perfume/essence: Eau de Cartier by Cartier. My mom has used it her whole life and then I started using it. Fucking love it.

Herb or spice or both: I season my food. Heavy. I'm Latina from the caribbean. But I also love spicy food. I have at least like 18 different hot sauce bottles in my fridge right now including Carolina Reaper and Ghost Pepper hot sauces so...both???

Piece of clothing: I love a good outer layer. Sweater, cardigan, jacket. Always have one on. I've legit been shooting in death valley...in the desert and had an outer layer on lol. It's just a part of me at this point.

[blackknightgargiefoodtopia]

Senja Restaurant

For me and my hubs' 3rd wedding anniversary (Wow~! 3 years! Who'd've thunk??), we decided to try out the new restaurant at Kiulap area called Senja Restaurant.

Location: Kiulap area, the same building as the Baiduri Bank Kiulap branch and Le Taj

It was technically originally a hotel-exclusive restaurant in Riverview Hotel, but ever since the hotel kinda sorta went downhill in business, Senja had left the building, so to speak, and just recently resurfaced as its own standalone restaurant, so we definitely needed to give it a shot.

Setting: Quite steakhouse-ish kind of setting, definitely brighter and cozier than the one they used to have at Riverview Hotel

This lot they occupy to set up shop was originally Saffron, but apparently Saffron decided to move shop across the street of Seri Q-lap Mall, which was surprising since I thought it was doing pretty well. But hey, business is business, they come and go, it's all about the money

Steak knife is a little too big though

My super tall glass of chocolate milkshake

Looks and tastes absolutely frothy and delicious, just the way I like my milkshake to be

My appetizer of mushroom chowder (I think)

Very thick and creamy, lots of flavour in there. Every spoonful was a delight. Was tempted to add some more pepper in it, but it would ruin the perfection

My hubs' appetizer of grilled mushroom with stuffed cheese

Also very delicious, juicy as you bite into it, easy to cut through, and the cheese that just melts in your mouth is just to die for. The salad was great too. Doesn't have the bitter aftertaste that most salads have, which means it's pretty fresh and thoroughly washed. Can't remember for the life of me what the actual name of this dish is though

My hubs ordered their in-house steak while I ordered their black pepper steak with corn sauce. Our steaks basically taste the same, the only difference is that he has black pepper sauce for his dip, while my steak is already marinated and cooked in black pepper and the corn sauce is to compliment the spiciness (prolly neutralizes it, since I don't feel the overwhelming burning pepper sensation). Though maybe one of these days, I should consider having my meat medium well since while it tastes awesome well-done, it's also a little tough and a little hard for me to finish it in time for dessert.

Our dessert of chocolate mousse with whipped cream

We were afraid that one chocolate mousse wasn't enough for us to share, so we ordered one for each of us instead. The creaminess of the chocolate mousse was to die for. It was heaven in every bite, though you have to eat the whipped cream together with the mousse because this is one of those non-flavoured whipped cream. Eating it alone just leaves a weird taste in your mouth.

Again, you have to feel rich or have a fat wallet to go to this restaurant, but it is a perfect place to go to during special occasions. Highly recommended.

Overall rating: