#plus vegetables were pretty high because I do in fact want to eat them while they are still peak veggie-ness

[angelltheninth]

Korra’s Muscles: An Essay

INTRODUCTION:

Hello everyone reading this. I wanted to start out by saying that my post about writing this was a joke. At first. I made a smaller analysis post about Korra’s muscles already however people seemed to really want this essay. And have Seychelle Gabriel read it for some reason. And I thought to myself: well why the hell not actually try to write this properly.

Before writing this essay I had 0 clue about muscles as far as anatomy, training, muscle mass, maintaining muscles, the proper diet etc. So I wanted to learn a bit about all that so this could be as accurate as possible.

This took a long time to put together and write so I hope this was worth the wait and please enjoy reading this as I’ve put a lot of time and effort into making it good so I hope that it will please you.

THE LEGEND OF KORRA INTRO:

 I’m sure everyone reading this knows what TLOK is because if you didn’t why the hell would you be reading this? But I’ll sum it up anyways.

The Legend of Korra is a sequel/spinoff of The Last Airbender. The good one, not the movie. TLOK was created by Bryan Joseph Konietzko and Michael Dante DiMartino, aired from 2012-2014., and it follows Avatar Aang’s successor Korra as she struggles with being the Avatar in a world that no longer seems to have a need for an Avatar as well as struggling with learning how to be human. On her journey she faces many villains and makes many fiends as well. And a love interest or two. Or three if you count Bolin. TLOK was meet with some controversy when it first aired but got lot more popular when it aired on Netflix in 2020.

AVATAR KORRA:

Before we talk about Korra’s glorious muscles we must talk a bit about Korra herself.

Who is Korra? Well as I already stated all of you probably know who she is already but I wanna make sure everyone understands how amazing she is before talking about her muscles.

Korra was born in the Southern Water Tribe. She’s the daughter of Chief Tonraq and his wife Senna.

Shown to be the polar opposite of her predecessor, Korra was hotheaded and brash in her childhood and teenage years.

Raised in the White Lotus compound she never interacted with anyone her age and spent her time training, both physically and bending.

After arriving in Republic City however, she had to learn about being human. Compassion, humility, friendship, love, found family, public dislike, opposition, fear, hope and more.

In her short time as a fully fledged Avatar Korra changed the world in many ways: bringing back the Air Nation, opening the spirit portals, defeating Vaatu, helping out the Earth Kingdom go trough a regime change in Ruins of the Empire.

Korra herself changed in many ways and went trough a lot in those few short years. Losing her bending, being separated from her past lives, being poisoned and almost killed, PTSD, depression, being crippled. She got trough all of that. And so did her muscles so lets finally talk about them cause that’s what you’re all here for.

KORRA’S MUSCLES:

BUILT

Korra’s overall physical built is one of the first things that sets her apart not just from other previously seen characters in Avatar, but also from the majority of female characters in animation.

Korra is very muscular for a woman, a fact acknowledged in the show itself by Mako and Bolin’s grandma Yin. Korra’s strength is displayed numerous times throughout the show, weather it be in fights or normal activities, such as when she picks up and hugs Tenzin and his kids with ease in season 1.

Korra is built like a fighter, a martial artist. Which makes complete sense given her upbringing and way of life. Of course her body sufferers a lot in the 3 years of her recovery in the South Pole after her fight with the Red Lotus. However trough training, she is eventually able to recover.

When it comes to her biceps and back muscles, one of the things about her most fans lose their minds over, its really no mystery as to how she got to where she is. She’s had years of training to develop them and like before those too are noticeably smaller after her 3-year recovery period. But more on that later.

One of the things about Korra’s physique people don’t talk about as much are her legs. Unlike her other muscles, Korra’s legs are always covered and due to being a fighter she wears baggy pants for easier movement, so we never actually see her leg muscles. However that doesn’t mean they should go unnoticed, especially considering that those were the ones that suffered the most in her recovery since she couldn’t walk or even move them.

DIET

As previously established Korra has the built of a martial artist so its only safe to imagine that her diet reflected that.

Typically a martial artist’s diet includes a balanced amount of protein, vitamins, carbs and fat in your meals. Martial artist’s eat food speeds up metabolism, but builds muscle and can keep one energized.

Now the world of Avatar is very different from our both animal and plant vise, and when taking into account what’s available to us and not to the Avatar world, such as protein shakes, vitamin supplants, multivitamin pills etc.

Korra is a Water Triber meaning that a good amount of her diet should consist of meat and fish. 

According to Edmund Searles in his article Food and the Making of Modern Inuit Identities, a mostly meat diet is "effective in keeping the body warm, making the body strong, keeping the body fit, and even making that body healthy".

Korra spent most of her life in the White Lotus compound so its pretty safe to assume that her meals were such that gave her a lot of energy as well as built up her muscles, and that it was in a large part, a meat and fish type of diet because of her heritage and place of living.

However Korra has also lived with Tenzin and his family on Air Temple Island. Tenzin as we know is an airbender like his father. And airbenders have very different diet compared to the Water Tribes.

Airbenders have a vegetarian diet as we know from Aang and from Tenzin. Airbenders are pacifists and as such they don’t like to harm another living thing. Because of that their diet would mostly consist of rice, vegetables and fruits as well as nuts because they are high in calories and nutritional benefit.

Because of the balanced diet of the Air Nomads we see that Aang as well as Tenzin are pretty well built individuals themselves therefore Korra, after she begins living with Tenzin and eating more of the Air Nomad cooking, is still able to stay perfectly fit. That and we can also assume that while she was staying there she still ate some meat and fish as well as Republic City food.

As for Korra’s diet for her biceps, that would require a lot of high-protein foods. Those would be available in abundance both in the Tribe as well as in Republic City as those would include: eggs, various fish, vegetables, fruits.

Back muscles require a healthy spine plus a work out routine but lets stick to food for now, for that Korra’s diet would consist of: vegetables, salmon, herbs and spices, dairy products and fruit. Since it was shown that Korra’s diet habits plummeted during her recovery so did her back muscles. Once she got back to her feet and started being more active once more she ate more and got her muscles back.

Leg muscles require a a lot of meat, low fat dairy products, grains and fruit as well as starchy vegetables.

Korra could easily balance her diet in Republic City, especially since it has a large assortment of food.

TRAINING

Korra’s training began early in her life. She was already able to bend 3 elements at an early age, so she also had to train from an early age to master those elements.

Korra trained in the White Lotus compound for 12 years where she pursued the bending arts.

Along with the bending arts she also pursued martial arts and later on when she moved to Air Temple Island she learned how to move like an Airbender and integrated that into her fighting style.

Along with her White Lotus and Tenzin’s training she also trained with Mako and Bolin for the Pro-Bender Tournament. Pro-Bending mixes bending and MMA elements into one sport.

MMA fighters train heavily with weights to built their built muscle as well as strengthen their bones. This is something we can clearly see the results from with Mako and Bolin. They’re been Pro-Benders for a while and they have a very strong built. Bolin has larger muscles than Mako however, which could be to to the fact that Mako as a firebender moves quicker and is a lot quicker on his feet, while Bolin is more like a tank. Strong and sturdy.

Korra had many forms of training over the years which is why her body isn’t just one certain type. She incorporates everything she’s learned into her life, fighting style, bending as well as types of training that she does.

In short, Korra was trained for 12 years in Fire, Water and Earth bendings specifically, along with the martial arts skills that come with those. After moving to Republic City she not only had the chance to learn Airbending and its martial arts but also learn about other types and techniques. Her training might have been very different from Aang’s but its just as effective.

Korra’s biceps probably required a lot of training just on their own. I mean look at those guns!

For this I just want you to imagine her bicep workout routine: towel curls, chair dips, elevated push ups, regular push ups, pull ups. All of those are bicep excesses that Korra could easily do anytime, anywhere.

For her back muscles she’s most likely do push ups with and plank stands with one arm raised since those are great for back and abs workout and balance challenge, too. As well as push up holds for muscle build up.

Leg muscle training while important in her training in general is especially important during her recovery period. She lost all her leg muscles and had a lot to make up and those would consist of various squats and push-ups, as those are great exercises to build strength and muscle mass.

COMPARISSON

 Now lets compare Korra’s physique and muscles to those of her peers, or in this case her friends: Mako, Bolin and Asami. Two of which are pro-benders and one of which is a mechanic and a martial artist.

First lets look at the brothers:

As stated before since they’re both Pro-Bender, at least for a good amount of time in their life, Mako and Bolin have a physique that’s fairly similar to Korra’s in some ways.

Toned and defined muscles, built for fighting. Like Korra they too trained for the purpose of battle. Although for Korra it was training under the White Lotus, learning proper techniques and for the brothers it was on their own and for a time with the Triple Threat Triads.

Bolin for example is a lot more focused on his upper body muscles. He is pretty much built like a tank due to him being a heavy hitter and also able to take quite a bit of hits. He and Korra have that in common. Korra’s upper body strength, biceps and back muscles, while smaller than Bolin’s in comparison have the same amount of force behind them. However Bolin is also hard to knock down as due to being an Earth Bender. Earth Bending takes a lot of heavy and firm stances and as much lower body strength as it does upper body strength.

Mako isn’t as buff as his brother but he doesn’t really need to be. He’s a lot lighter on his feet in fights and doesn’t use as much raw muscle strength in his bending. This is something that differs him from both Korra and Bolin as those two sometimes put a lot of strength behind their punches.

Now Asami:

Unlike Korra, Mako and Bolin, Asami comes from a rich family and despite Korra’s initial impressions of her Asami is far from a helpless rich city girl.

While not muscular like her friends Asami can more than handle herself in fights, using her martial arts skills and wits more than her psychical strength. Asami prioritizes her martial arts skills rather than her muscle built, and because of that she is built very differently from Korra but that doesn’t mean she’s any less helpful in battle.

ENDING:

And with those comparisons I will conclude this essay. This was very fun to write and I hope you enjoyed reading (and looking at all the pics).

[welcometophu]

The Meaning of Home, Chapter 3

The Meaning of Home Chapter 3

Tags for all Welcome to PHU novels will be available at the PHU tag list on Pillowfort. This list is under construction as of Sept. 5, 2021.

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“You could have mentioned.” Pawel fills a bowl with chili from the slow cooker, then adds a scoop of spiced chicken and cheese, and tops it with sour cream. He hands it to his dad and points to the table. “There’s salad, too.”

“More meat, Dad,” Conor says, handing him his bowl. “Beans are weird. They have a really strange texture.”

“They’re also good for you.” Pawel doesn’t skimp on his son’s bowl; he’s seen just how much his kid can pack away. “And you need to eat salad, too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Conor mutters. He slides into one of the chairs at the tiny round table that sits between the kitchenette and living room. When all three of them sit down, there’s barely room to move. Pawel’s afraid he’s going to take a bite and end up elbowing his father in the nose.

Still, it’s good to have real food with them, and know that both of them are eating something healthy.

Pawel sits back a bit from the table so he doesn’t knock knees, and holds his own bowl in his hands. The chili isn’t as spicy as he usually makes it at home, but that’s probably better for his father’s stomach anyway.

“Could’ve mentioned what?” Dad asks.

He sounds so innocent.

“That the guy who takes in fosters and happens to work with you is Leo Papa. As in my ex-boyfriend Leo,” Pawel says dryly. “We bumped into him and Emma and another one of his fosters—”

“Jennie,” Conor supplies.

“—At the grocery store,” Pawel finishes, as if Conor hadn’t interrupted. “And oh, funny thing.” He glares at Dad, who blinks back at him, calmly eating. “Turns out Leo’s married to Colt Harrison. My other high school ex.”

“Emma’s dads are the guys you dated in high school?” Conor asks. “They’re really cool. Why didn’t you keep dating them?”

“Leo graduated and left. Colt and I went to different schools. I met your mom.” There’s a lot more to each of those stories, but Pawel doesn’t want to get into the details right here and now. He’s not sure he wants to talk about the drama of his teen life with his son in general.

Conor already knows enough of the details, like the fact that he was born while Pawel was still in school.

“Colt’s really calmed down,” Dad muses. “He used to have a lot of attitude when he was a kid. I remember when you first started dating him, and he’d look down at our house. He thought everything should be served up on a silver platter. Being a dad’s taught him a lot more about reality than anything else did, I think.”

“Are you telling me he doesn’t drive a Porsche anymore?”

Dad barks out a low laugh. “Where would he put five kids in a Porsche? They’ve got practical cars. Although if they take in any more kids, they’ll need one of those big vans, or a miniature bus.”

“Emma wants Dad to find her parents, so she can go home,” Conor reminds them. “She says she’s not staying. I’ll be sad when she goes, though. And her house is fun. It’s kind of chaotic. I mean, Duke’s quiet—he doesn’t talk at all—but Matt’s always saying stuff, and he keeps changing into different animals. And Duke and Matt fight, even if Duke doesn’t yell. He still seems to get his point across, and then he chases Matt, and yeah, it gets messy. You met Jennie—she’s cool, for a little kid, but she’s always eating. Nevaeh’s really pretty. She’s learning how to drive.” 

Conor shovels food into his mouth, a spoonful between every sentence. His spoon clatters back into a mostly empty bowl, a few beans lingering in the bottom. “Can I go call Alan? We’re going to game tonight. I got my homework done while you were cooking.”

“Salad,” Dad reminds him, and Pawel’s thankful for the backup, even if Dad himself hasn’t taken any yet.

Conor puts just enough lettuce and vegetables into his bowl to satisfy the requirement, and finishes it quickly. He drops his spoon on the table. “Gonna go call Alan. Bye!”

The place is small enough that even though the door to the guest room bangs as it bounces closed, then open again, Pawel can still clearly hear Conor shouting a hello to Alan.

“How the hell do they have five kids?” Pawel can’t imagine trying to wrangle more than one.

“There are two of them. There’s a better adult to kid ratio, plus you know Leo’s family helps out.” Dad pulls the salad towards him, heaping his bowl full. “That’s what family does, and you know it. Ours is just smaller than most.”

Him, his dad, and Conor. Yeah. It’s a pretty small family.

Which reminds him, he should probably tell his dad about Chelsea.

Dad points his fork at him. “I’ll agree, though, I didn’t see it coming,” he continues. Pawel stays silent; Chelsea can wait if Dad’s going to tell him more about what the hell’s been going on while he was absent. “Leo and Colt were good together; have been since they first met. But when Leo came in and said he needed a few days off to go pick up a foster kid—almost four years ago, now—it was a hell of a surprise. Matt had a tough time of it, too. His parents gave him up, put him right into the foster system because he’d Emerged as Clan. If Lucy hadn’t gotten him out….” Dad trails off, shaking his head.

“Leo said something about Lucy and Rowan,” Pawel says slowly. “I have two students whose parents are in a triad, and two of those parents are Lucy and Rowan. I’ve spent time with their family in Vermont.”

“Likely the same,” Dad says. “Lucy’s a teacher, and she keeps an eye out for Talented kids who might slip through the cracks otherwise. Apparently she’s been doing it since before the Emergence; it’s just easier now. She’s got a network of teachers, and one of them knows Colt, and that’s how it all came together. Matt did so well with them that when Lucy found out about a thirteen-year-old girl who’d run away from her family with her baby sister, she brought them straight to Leo and Colt, too. Rowan’s a lawyer, and he’s the one who works to make sure the kids are safe, and aren’t going to end up back in bad places. Nevaeh and Jennie’s parents didn’t want a little girl who sparkled all the time, and they were a danger to her, so they were declared unfit.”

“Conor thinks they’ll adopt them. Since Jennie’s grown up with them.” Pawel’s still trying to assimilate it, putting “parents” into the same box as “ex-boyfriends” in his brain. He still sees them both as the awkward teenagers they used to be.

Colt would say he has never been awkward.

He might even be right.

“They’ve thought about it. I think Colt’s looked into it, but even with the parents out of the picture as they are, they’re still alive, so adoption becomes a tricky thing.” Dad picks up his empty bowl along with Conor’s and takes them over to the sink.

Pawel uses the freedom to stretch his legs under the small table. He’s barely eaten anything yet, so he starts working his way through his chili, letting his mind spin.

He should get in touch with Lucy and Rowan. They’ve talked before, more than once actually. Maybe it’d be good to let them know he’s aware of their efforts. That he knows Leo and Colt.

No, not like that. That makes it sound like he knows them better than he does. Until he ran into Leo in the store, he hadn’t seen him in more than a decade. It hasn’t been quite as long for Colt, but close enough.

Still. This sounds like something he should offer help with. Even if he can’t foster, he can help with Lucy’s ability to network down in Unity. He’s sure she could use that, and well, he owes her family for all the help they’ve given in the last year.

He scoops up the last mouthful of chili. That’s decided then. He’ll give them a call later. Or text them. Reach out, anyway.

“Bring me your bowl.” Dad waits until Pawel brings his dishes over before he adds quietly, “Never did figure out if you ended things on good or bad terms, but I know you moped about both of them enough to figure they weren’t easy breakups. They’re both doing well now. They’re good for each other. Leo’s a valuable part of my force, and Colt’s a voice to be reckoned with in the courtroom. They fight for Talented folks to be safe. So if you’re thinking of somehow getting in the middle of this….”

Dad’s voice trails off and he gives Pawel a look.

Pawel has no idea what Dad’s thinking. “Get in the middle of… no. What? I was just going to reach out and offer to be a liaison in Unity, if Lucy and Rowan don’t already have one. And thank them for all the help they’ve given us. And maybe talk to Colt and Leo about whether I can help Emma out. Since apparently people disappearing has become my specialty.”

Dad huffs and turns away. “Fine. Just don’t go making any trouble for them. They’re good folk.”

“I won’t. I’m just going to—” Pawel gestures at the couch, but that’s not really helpful for getting any distance or privacy. “Actually. Why don’t you go put your feet up. I’ll finish the clean up.”

“You cooked.” The protest is half-hearted.

“And I was home all day, so I can clean, too.” Maybe being home support is a good way to thank his dad for everything he’s done. It’s something Pawel can do, anyway.

The TV goes on loud enough that Pawel can hear it clearly over the running water. Pawel takes a moment to tap out a quick message to send to Lucy.

Heard you help find foster homes for Talented kids in need. My son’s met a few of the kids you placed in my home town. If you ever need a contact in Unity, I’d be happy to help.

He leaves his phone face up on the counter.

He’s up to his elbows in suds, scrubbing the inside of the slow cooker, when his phone buzzes. He glances over to see a response from Lucy.

I’ve actually got folks in Unity and Valiant, but that doesn’t mean we can’t talk. I already know you’ve got a vested interest in keeping Talented kids safe, and a larger network means more help. Just like we’ve been telling you with our family in Burlington: lean on people when you need them.

Even people who barely know him are giving him advice. 

He lets the screen fade; he’ll reply later when his hands aren’t soaking wet. Instead he finishes filling up the small dishwasher and gets it started. As soon as the rumbling begins, Dad turns up the volume on the TV so he can hear over the rattling of the dishwasher.

It’s just too much noise for Pawel. He makes his way to the guest room, knocking on the half-open door before he nudges it wide enough to step inside. Conor waves a hand, and Pawel takes that as meaning close the door, so he does.

“What are you playing?” Pawel looks at the screen, but all he sees is Alan, who waves at him.

“We haven’t started playing yet.” Conor’s voice is too loud, his headphones still covering his ears. Pawel taps at them, and Conor removes them and switches the sound to the speakers. “We’ve just been talking. Alan was telling me about all the things happening at home. I really like my class and my teacher here, but I really miss home. Except for Marjorie. I don’t really miss her.”

“But you miss me,” Alan says, grinning. “Hi, Mister Szczek.” 

They’ve known each other long enough that Polish names, along with the random few words Conor knows and has shared, roll off Alan’s lips like he’s part of the family. Well, he and Conor are schoolyard married, so maybe he is part of the family.

“Hi, Alan. Actually, I’ve got a question for you both.” Pawel sits down on the bed next to Conor, leaning in so he’ll be on camera. “I picked up tickets for SongFest out in Buffalo this weekend. I was thinking you could join us if you boys want.”

“You got us tickets for SongFest? Do I get to see Rory and Thorne on stage? What about that girl? Trish? Is she doing music there, too? You changed your mind! You said I was too young for concerts.” Conor bounces on the bed enough that the laptop wobbles. Pawel reaches out to stabilize it as Alan laughs.

“You’re too young for clubs,” Pawel says. “And this is going to be a long day, out in the hot sun, assuming it doesn’t rain on Saturday. But I figured we could give it a try, and since it’s outside, the music won’t be quite as bad on your ears. You already don’t listen to half of what I say.”

“Mom says my dad and me have selective hearing,” Alan volunteers. 

“She’s not wrong. Sometimes it’s better to just not listen. Can’t get in trouble if you don’t hear it,” Conor agrees. His gaze slides sideways, as if he forgot Pawel is sitting there. “Soooooooo,” he draws the word out before his gaze locks back on Alan on the screen. “Can you go with us?”

“We’d be driving out on Friday,” Pawel clarifies. “The actual festival is in Buffalo on Saturday, and it goes late. We’d have a hotel for both nights, and come back on Sunday.”

The smile falls away as Alan shakes his head. “I can’t this weekend. It’s my cousin’s birthday next week, and we’re doing a big family thing this weekend in Boston. She’s my aunt’s miracle baby, and we always get the whole family together to celebrate her. She’s three this year. She’s my oldest aunt and my youngest cousin. I’m youngest, before her.”

Conor ducks his head. “Oh.” He pulls his blanket onto his lap, picking at the fuzz on it.

“We’ll have to find a different weekend for Alan to come out and visit then,” Pawel says firmly. The boys have been apart for two months, and that’s a long time in a nine-year-old’s life. “Then you can introduce Alan to Emma.”

“We’ve met.” Alan sounds cheerful about that. “She’s pretty cool. She and Conor call me sometimes. I think she should come live with you guys when you come home.”

Conor makes a low scoffing noise. “She’s not like a stray dog. We can’t just keep her. She’s already got foster dads, and besides, my dad is going to find her parents. Then she’ll have to go wherever her home really is. Which will suck, because I really like hanging out with her, but it’ll make her happy, so that’s cool.”

“Yeah, that’s really cool you’re going to do that, Mister Szczek,” Alan echoes.

It’s very cool, right up until the moment Pawel thinks about how that means figuring out a plan, and then interacting with Leo and Colt to enact that plan.

“I’ll do my best.” Pawel touches Conor’s shoulder. “Why don’t you guys do your game for a bit. It’s a school night, so you still need to get to bed.”

Conor shakes his head, as if he can shake off the blues. Maybe it works, because he’s smiling when he reaches for his laptop. “Okay, Alan. Let’s do this.”

Pawel is clearly dismissed.

He exits the room, leaving the door propped just enough that he can hear the rumble of Conor talking as he puts his headphones back on, and nothing else. Dad’s half-asleep on the couch, watching a show through his eyelids, so Pawel sinks down there and joins him. As Dad snores softly, Pawel grabs the remote and stops the show. Dad can get back to it later, and he won’t notice Pawel channel surfing while he snoozes.

Time passes in a haze of snippets of comedy and drama. Pawel can’t seem to find anything he really wants to watch, and Dad has no opinions as he naps. Pawel keeps one eye on the time, and he’s just about to call out when he hears Conor yell, “Got to go! Bye!” The sound of the laptop closing is clear enough to make Pawel wince, but he knows that machine has put up with a lot from his son already.

Conor emerges a few minutes later, already in his pajamas. He heads straight for the bathroom, and Pawel can hear the water running as he brushes his teeth and gets ready for bed. By the time Conor makes it into the living room, the noise has disturbed Dad, who sits upright and yawns.

“Bed,” Pawel says firmly, not entirely certain which one of them he’s talking to. Probably both.

“Goodnight son.” Dad squeezes Pawel’s shoulder as he stands. He reels Conor in for a long hug on his way by, then disappears into his own room.

Conor stands there, hands clasped behind his back, his lower lip drawn in between his teeth.

“You want something,” Pawel says.

“Since Alan can’t go and you said you already bought a ticket, can we bring Emma with us to the festival this weekend?” Conor blurts it all out in a rush, biting his lip again when he’s done. “I know you don’t know her really well yet, but she’s nice and we won’t be trouble and it would really be a lot of fun.”

If Pawel takes Emma all the way to Buffalo, he can’t see her foster parents letting her go alone.

Pawel slides his palm over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hears the soft, defeated exhale from Conor.

“Okay,” Conor says softly. “I get it.”

“That’s not—” Pawel hesitates, peeking between his fingers at where his son stands there, waiting for an answer. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll talk to her fathers. Foster fathers.” Even without Emma there to correct him, he corrects himself. He understands the importance of terminology. Sometimes you have to make sure you say things the right way. Words have power, even when you’re nine.

Words might even have more power over children. That’s why it’s important to acknowledge the ones they want to use.

Conor darts across the room, plowing into where Pawel is still on the couch for a flying, tackling hug. “Thanks, Dad. I love you. Can I tell Emma you’re going to ask? Should it be a surprise? When are you going to ask?”

So many questions.

So many complications to this one simple request.

Pawel wraps his arms around his son, choosing to just hold on for the moment. He pats Conor on the back, and Conor slowly disengages from the hug, bouncing on his toes as soon as he’s upright.

“I’ll talk to Leo and Colt,” Pawel promises. “But you need to give me time.”

“It’s already Tuesday,” Conor whines. “You said we’re going on Friday. That’s not a lot of time. Wait, what about school? Are you taking me out of school?”

“That’s one of the things I’ll need to talk to Leo and Colt about.” One thing among several. And this is coming out of the blue, after all these years of silence. Because of course Pawel’s son has managed to dump him into chaos. It’s what the Szczeks do.

“For now,” Pawel adds, “go to bed. Let me take care of the adult things, okay?”

“Okay. G’night, Dad!” Conor slams the door to his room behind him.

Pawel’s left on the couch—his bed for the summer—alone with his thoughts. 

So. They’re taking Emma to the festival. He promised. If her foster fathers allow her to go.

There are so many ways in which this could get awkward.

It’s up to Pawel to take the first step, so he opens his phone and brings up a text to Leo’s number.

Okay. Dinner. When?

He presses send. There, that’s started. It’s in the hands of his exes now.

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[shingekicornwrites]

Agricultural Werewolves, pt 1

Fandom/Tags: Hero Academia, alternate universe/werewolves, mentions of past bullying, Counseling, Bakugou Katsuki Faces Consequences, modern fantasy, unreliable narrator, Katsuki is kind of an asshole please don’t take his commentary as my opinion or truth

Pairings: Bakugou Katsuki/Anger Management Counseling, future Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou, future Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto

A/N: This is just a fun au full of wholesome farming, but also boys dealing with issues and a whole lot of unhealthy coping mechanisms and attempts to heal. Please enjoy

Not all farmers are werewolves, but many werewolves are farmers. For some reason this fact makes no sense to people who don’t know werewolves. For everyone else it makes perfect sense.

Werewolves have to eat a lot.

As in: the number one drain of money in werewolf houses is filling the cabinets enough to keep all members of the family healthy. Creatures who change shape with regularity, who shift their bodies and have immense strength that burns calories faster than they can blink, have to maintain an intake that allows them to function without their bodies resorting to eating itself. Even werewolves who don’t change all that often, either out of preference or a lack of opportunity, have to eat more than their human peers or suffer symptoms of starvation.  

Hence: werewolves are farmers.

It is infinitely easier to exist outside of poverty when werewolves, congregated into their own communities, make the food themselves instead of buying it all at the nearest grocer. They raise and cut the meats themselves. They grow the appropriate fruits and vegetables that balance their diets. They sell the portions according to their needs as opposed to human needs. It only makes sense that they do things this way.

They control the food market. They have space to run to their hearts content without worrying about bothering human neighbors. They make the rules for their communities with the standards they need, instead of standards written by people who don’t understand how they function. Government approved wolf reserves more often become farmland than anything else.

Werewolves are farmers, and statistically they’re more likely to be happy that way.  

This statistic does not account for Bakugou Katsuki.

At the moment, he is the furthest thing from happy.

“This place smells like shit.”

Normally he’d be cuffed upside the head for that. Instead his mom just looks at him, with that fucking pity in her eyes that hasn’t left in days, and frowns. Katsuki pointedly doesn’t look back and continues staring out the window at the trees and dust being kicked up by the tires.

“That’s the chicken houses. It is pretty rancid,” she says. Acting like she’s not on her way to get rid of her mess and wash her hands of it. “Ah, there’s the gates. Kind of nostalgic.”

The gate marking the Kiyashi Wolf Reserve is flanked by stone wolves howling at the sky in unison. Their car passes them by with no fanfare and Katsuki growls at the town beyond.

It’s as unimpressive as he thought it’d be. A town in the middle of Fuckoff Nowhere, with nothing to its name and a bunch of people who will die there the same nobodies they were born as. All it has to show are a bunch of old ass buildings for tourists and a stupid shrine.  Their car slows down once they pass the gates and Katsuki gets a good, long look at the shitty little storefronts lining the main street. His mom makes some weird noise when she sees them and starts yammering again.

“Oh, I’ve missed this.” She eases up on the gas as the traffic increases, slowing down to turn her head and look at a restaurant that’s filling the car with some kind of greasy meat smell. “That place over there makes the best dango. And there’s this cartilage karaage that’s so delicious—they pile the plate high, too. I forgot how much I missed getting the big portions. City eating just doesn’t give you enough.”

Katsuki huffs, glaring at a group of bumpkin kids who stare at their car as they walk past. “S’at why you left? Got cankles?”

Once again, no cuffing comes. Not even a growl. His mom just frowns with that fucking look again and doesn’t do anything.

“Better business in the bigger towns. Oh my, that store is still there? God, I used to go there every week to blow my paychecks. It looks even nicer than when I left it.”

They pass the shitty little boutique and she smiles at it, taking a left when the main road ends and humming at all the ancient scenery. There’s more old as shit buildings, more little shops and restaurants—more kids staring at their nice car and whispering to each other, which is just fucking great. There’s signs for the local shrine next to fox statues lining the side of the road and Katsuki makes a face at each one as they pass. This whole town looks like it hasn’t had a pulse in decades.

“Do you remember the Midoriyas, hon?” his mom asks as she takes another turn. “They left when you were small, around first grade.”

He thinks back and the memories come to the surface easily. Kindergarten had been spent running around followed by lackeys, catching bugs, making a mess of the local playground, and...huh, right. A face pops back into his mind. Freckles and curls, big green eyes, crying all the goddamn time because he had no spine and didn’t get that he wasn’t wanted around.

“Deku?” the name pops up before he can think too hard about it. Deku. The little snot who yelled too much and probably still wet the bed when he moved away. Useless little Deku.

“That’s not his name,” the hag nags him, jogging him out of the trip through memory lane.

Katsuki scoffs. “It’s what he was.”

“Katsuki,” she starts, finally seeming a little more like herself before she sighs and buries it deep. “Izuku and his mother moved here when they left. Inko’s offered to take you in while you’re here.”

So he’s gonna be under the care of the family with the worlds biggest crybaby? “Great.”

“It is great. You know her, a little. You and Izuku could catch up. Plus, Inko has a little business now. This old ryokan got turned into the local youth hostel, and it’s all under her name now since the old owner retired. It sounds very relaxing. Isn’t that nice?” His mom smiles, like this is actually good news, and it’s disgusting.

“I’m gonna die of boredom,” Katsuki mutters. He looks back out the window and there’s old people with baskets of vegetables just walking next to the road like they want to be hit by a car. Christ this place sucks.

“Don’t say that. This town has a ton of stuff to keep you occupied. You can run around to your hearts content and nothing’ll stop you.”

He lets his head rest against the glass and hopes the vibrations from the shitty road will concuss him. “Wheeee.”

“You’ll like it,” His mom promises. She’d also promised he’d be a winner, and here she is ripping him away from his top school of choice. So he thinks she can take that promise and fucking shove it.

The road gets tinier and the car slows down, with his mom squinting at each building as they pass and muttering under her breath. There are more old people with vegetables and stupid hick kids running around. The car slows to a stop at a break in whatever pathetic excuse for a sidewalk this town has lining its roads, shutting off as the hag smiles at the old ass building next to them.

“There it is,” she breathes.

It looks as shitty as he thought it would. Old, traditional, with weathered wood one good termite away from crumbling and an ancient sign trying to pass for new with a fresh coat of paint slapped on. Small for a ryokan, too, which is probably why it got sold off. There are planters surrounding the front entrance filled with flowers, where a pudgy little figure is hunched over and pulling weeds.

The hag doesn’t hesitate to unbuckle and climb out, shouting over the top of the car. “Inko!”

The pudgy woman turns around and drops the clippers in her hand. Katsuki doesn’t move to get out. He remembers her face. He remembers her taller, presenting snacks and endless bandages for her crybaby son. He remembers seeing her less and less before she was gone altogether. The short, heavy woman he’s looking at how doesn’t resemble her at all. She’s in dirty jeans and flannel, with a handkerchief tied around her head to keep her hair back and rubber boots caked in mud tracking mess all over the walkway.

Damn, Auntie let herself go.

“Mitsuki?” Inko asks, before throwing herself forward to give his mom a running hug. “Oh my—I thought you weren’t due until later!”

“Traffic was a lot lighter than I thought it’d be.” His mom laughs, as if it’s just a stupid social visit and not her dumping her goddamn kid to cover up a mess. “Look at you! You’re radiant! Kiyashi must be treating you well.”

Katsuki resists the urge to double take. His mother is a shit liar.

Inko just smiles. “It’s all the hiking. I had no idea how much fresh air makes you feel better.”

“Oh, I know. I felt like I couldn’t breathe after I left, city air is disgusting.” His mom makes a face. “How are you and the kids doing?”

“Wonderful. Izuku’s out working right now.”

“No foolin? Feels like yesterday he was learning to walk.”

“They grow up so fast.” Inko finally looks over and spots Katsuki slouched in his seat. “Is that Katsuki?”

He growls. She doesn’t even look phased.

“Yep,” his mother nods, then for the first time since this trip started she raises her voice. “Oi! Get out of the car and be sociable!”

He bares his teeth—fuck her, fuck this trip, fuck this stupid hick town—but opens the door. He makes sure to slam it shut. Just because he can. And he wants everyone to know he thinks this whole thing is a pile of shit. Especially the hag, who just glares at him but refuses to yell, even though he knows she wants to.

She always wants to. She always does. This stupid fucking pity game is going to drive him insane, why the hell does she think shutting up is gonna work?

“You’ve gotten so big,” Inko fawns, looking up at him with a big smile. “I bet you barely remember me, huh?”

“He does,” his mother deadpans. There’s a silent threat while Inko isn’t looking to at least greet her, but he responds to that with a sneer that just makes her shake her head. Instead of yelling, once again, she turns her focus to Inko. “Thank you again for this.”

“Oh, it’s no issue at all. The hostel doesn’t just exist for tourism,” Inko deflects. Katsuki looks at the hostel with another critical eye and snorts. Of course it isn’t for tourism. The whole place looks like shit. Tourists who pay for this must be idiots. “Katsuki, dear, I have a room set up for you. It has your name on it so you can go ahead and start loading your things in if you want.”

Finally, an excuse to get out of this. He yanks the car door open and grabs for his first few bags, eager to get away from sight for a few minutes. The women just keep blabbering on about nothing like he’s not even there.

“How’s the boarder?” his mom asks as Katsuki hauls his duffel bag out.

“Oh, he’s doing well. He’s at the shrine now.”

“That’s two working boys, then—“

It’s nothing to load two bags over his shoulders and get away. Leave the biddies to their gossip, he thinks. It’s the only thing they’re good for.

The inside of the hostel is...less shitty. Huh. Maybe that’s how it stayed in business. Katsuki kicks off his shoes and puts on the slippers set out with a scowl, surveying what’s visible past the entryway. The floors are polished wood, the insides done up so that everything looks bright and new. There’s a lounge right next to the entrance that’s been done up to be more teen friendly—a gaming console and a TV, a little fridge with a clear door filled with drinks, and a few bean bag chairs—he bypasses it with a huff and makes his way toward the rooms.

There’s a courtyard. The doors are open, letting him get a good look at the tree and flowers planted to look all pretty. He doesn’t see any people, though.

He passes rooms with no name on them. Empty, empty, empty—how the hell does Auntie keep this place in business? At first it’s nothing. Then it starts getting annoying.

Empty, empty, empty.

Empty.

Empty.

Motherfucker.

He circles the place twice and can’t find anything. No sign. No name. Just empty rooms in a shitty hostel in a shitty hick town and his own shitty breathing because why the hell has he had to carry the bags for this long?

The next time he finds his way back to the lounge he yells in frustration, kicking a chair. He’s about to ditch the bags and run through the place when he turns just a little too quickly and his duffel bag hits someone in the shoulder.

Katsuki bares his teeth before he can think about it. “Oi! Watch it!”

The stranger stumbles back. It’s some hick kid, in a dirty t-shirt and ratty baseball hat. His arms—thicker than expected for someone shorter than Katsuki is, with a fucked up hand that looks like it’s made of scar tissue—are carrying a wooden box filled to the brim with vegetables and paper wrapped packages that smell like blood and raw meat.

“Sorry about that—“ the stranger steadies himself, hefting the box up and stepping back. He’s too busy making sure nothing from the box is falling to even look at the guy he’s apologizing too, the asshole. “Are you lost?”

“No!” Katsuki barks.

“Well, it’s alright if you are, I just—“ the stranger meets Katsuki’s eyes and his own widen. “...wait.”

Katsuki bristles. Then something starts to churn, in his head. The stranger has big green eyes.

Big green eyes, and freckles. Familiar patterns speckled all over his face. Wild curls are attempting to escape out from under the hat, pasted to his forehead from sweat. If the hat wasn’t on it would be the same wild mass of uncontrollable coils that he remembers.

The last time he saw that face was years ago, out the back of a car as it drove away.

“Kacchan?” Deku asks, bigger and thicker and smelling like wolf in a way he definitely didn’t in first grade.

What the fuck?

[taco-and-mango]

everyone else was making Shlorpian OCs, so here’s my lil family. more info under the cut!

so because I never half ass anything that’s not important, I thought way too hard about what it would be like if they appeared on the show and how they’d fit into the mix so here’s some fun facts, including potential voice actors:

Viyma - would be voiced by Chelsea Peretti - worked as the Shlorpian equivalent of a doctor, specializing in the process of cutting plant material off of people to use to create replicants - on Shlorp she was a total bombshell, I mean look at the curve of her head godDAMN - used to using her looks to get stuff/favors - actually really smart and works hard on things she gives a shit about (her job, family, bocce ball) - was in the same class in the Academy as Korvo - they fucking hated each other - they also hate fucked each other - robe looks like it flares out for dramatic effect but really she's just got A Fat Ass - Big Top Energy -started growing her replicant later than others in her age range because she was Married To The Job and didn't prioritize creating her own as opposed to helping others create theirs - Wine Mom, but never says no to vodka - has a soft spot for replicants (not just hers, she's pretty nice to Jesse and Yumyulack as well) - makes fun of Korvo for not having his ship repaired by now and refuses to help - partially because she has no idea how because she had someone do her Ship Repair classwork in the Academy but Korvo doesn't need to know that Xechee - probably voiced by Kristen Schaal idk lmao - Viyma's replicant - struggled to grow during her incubation and emerged from the soil earlier than normal - real pipsqueek - not actually dumb but def naive - never knows wtf is going on but is just happy to be there - chose female pronouns relatively early for her age - likes flowers a whole lot, hence why she wears one (it's not fungus from lack of handwashing, Viyma's checked) - her fingers never grew properly, just her thumbs, so her hands look like little mittens - will only eat food if you put maple syrup on it first - too young to really be helpful on the mission as of now but she's fun to have around Phin (full first name is Zelphin) - would be voiced by Joel McHale - pupa expert, and unlike Terry, he actually knows shit about the pupa - he and Viyma were kind of into each other before news of the asteroid came out - was friends with someone on the committee to assign mission partners and might have... influenced him to partner him and Viyma together - used to be a huge fuckin dweeb - Terry pantsed him at the Academy once but considering they wore robes nobody saw anything and it wasn't actually that funny - he's still salty about it though - Shlorp version of Be Careful Who You Made Fun Of In High School - Terry doesn't hate Phin but Phin definitely hates Terry - gets into microbrewing at some point probably - really into the Rugged Camping Dad aesthetic, owns 12 flannel shirts - petty af - cocky and constantly overcompensating - a pretty good dad to Willow and Xechee regardless - Don't Talk To Him Until He's Had His Coffee Willow - would be voiced by Ilana Glazer - Phin's replicant - mellow as hell, kind of a hippie - doesn't wear shoes - won't eat meat, and won't even eat fruits or vegetables bc they're technically living - eats straight up dirt to survive (Shlorp version of a vegan) - still smokes weed, and will eat anything while high - a little older than Jesse and Yumyulack, like 16-17 in earth years - discovered yoga pants and can never go back - was training on Shlorp to work in the Solarium and take care of incubating replicants - as a result, she's really into gardening and plants on Earth - got made fun of a lot on Shlorp for picking a dumb name like Willow and not a proper Shlorpian one like Xanthiolix or Greg - probably has a yoga and mediation Instagram 

Yeah but then I was like ‘wait why would they interact with the Earth fam if they’re supposed to be on another planet? so here a basic summary of what would go down: 

A new neighbor moves in across the street from Terry and Korvo named Brent and they NEED to get to know him better.

Korvo believes he would be able to assist with ship repair because he saw him changing the oil in his car once and I mean, come on, he would definitely be able to lift things Korvo couldn't. With those arms?? (also basically he wants to be friends with him and maybe fuck him but doesn't want to admit that). Terry wants to be friends with him because he saw the big screen tv in his living room and also thinks he'd be into doing butt stuff. He doesn't seem offput by aliens either, so that's a plus!

After a few failed attempts to befriend him they notice a space ship, very much like theirs, in his driveway. Was Brent in disguise this whole time?? Could he be a Shlorpian who could help them with ship repair??? And then Terry doesnt have to hear Korvo complain about how he never helps with ship repair???? Even better!

Then they find out the actual Shlorpians are Viyma and Phin, Korvo and Terry's respective rivals from their homeworld. Not only would they never help them with ship repair or the Pupa, but apparently they're both dating Brent? And they're going to constantly be around to spend time with him???

GREAT.

Yeah I haven’t drawn Brent yet but I like poly couples and I figured it’d also give these clowns an excuse to visit earth and annoy the Solar Opposites fam. They met Brent at Trader Joe’s because their uninhabited planet doesn’t have one so they would make the trip idk  shut up

I’m new to digital art (and it’s been a while since I’ve drawn at all because of reasons but I’ve been wanting to get back into it) and I drew Viyma first, so she looks kind of rough but I think I’ve already improved! I did Willow and Xechee (pronounced Zee Chee btw) last and I feel like I was starting to get the hang of what tf I was doing. Hopefully I’ll be able to draw the canon characters soon (and maybe Brent and their pupa)

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.8

Shopping with Shiro was god awkward. Being a local, everyone was too damn cheerful as they did polite thing and say hello, some asking who Shiro was, and another pondering the question which would lead to rumours at a later date. Lance didn’t like to brag, but he was pretty well known in Garrison for making a “haunted house” his home. There weren’t any ghosts there, only the long dead skeletons of rats and mice, and the occasional spot of mould. He was also well known as being a bit “odd”, 26 with no partner struck some of the older community as a bit strange, as did the fact that he’d live in such a large home alone. Still, Lance blended himself in as seamlessly as he could. Earlier in the year he’d thought about picking up a few shifts at a local bar, only to change his mind over the fear of somehow cutting him and cursing the local drunks. Plus, people really sucked when they were drunk. He was more than likely to blow a fuse if he had to be flirted with every single damn shift simply because he looked at the peak of his youth.

Sticking to his usual routine of picking random things that he knew he could make a meal from, he found himself schooling Shiro in the ways of bulk savings, and discount brands. Shiro didn’t know how to process that he was a vampire who ate garlic... other foods in general. He really wasn’t living up to his role as a vampire at all, yet, despite how hard he tried not to, part of him decided it had to go and like Shiro as a person, despite the fact he’d clearly vandalised his own car and lied through his teeth when they’d met. Buying way too much food, the dude at the check out pretty much had bug eyes when it came to loading up the belt, because Lance never brought as much he was right then, then paying for it as Shiro insisted on placing the bags back in the trolley, as it was “the least he could do, all things considered”. Lance kept trying to consider him a pain, but now he was actually wondering if this had been how his family felt when he’d suddenly come back home different to the rest of them. He wanted to ring his Mami and ask her advice over the whole matter, but the idea of her baby boy living with two men who kill vampires for a living would send into a fit of hysterics over his safety.

Taking his keys from him, Shiro was good at insisting things. Insisting he needed his rest, and that he should cover his face so the sun’s rays wouldn’t burn up his skin. Shiro was fast feeling like a big brother that Lance had desperately wanted, but denied he needed. The fact that Shiro didn’t seem to want to murder him left him with all kinds of conflicted feelings that were too muddled to sort out. He was a vampire, Shiro was a hunter, that was the black and white of it, those damn shades of grey in between were making all of this far more difficult than it needed to be.

A tad too proud of an inanimate object, his bronco was a good girl, not starting for Shiro until the third time he tried to turn over the engine. Not used to the closeness of the H on the clutch, Shiro ground the gears more than once, then proceeded to bunny hop over that damn ditch in Lance’s driveway. Forget Shiro being the older brother, he was giving Lance’s younger self a run for his money, though his problem had been that even at accelerated speeds things seemed slower than the normal speed limit. His glasses helped with that, as had keeping the one car for his adult life. Bunny hopping to a stop in front of Lance’s house, Shiro shot him an embarrassed look, Lance quick to reassure him he wasn’t about to tell anyone over the mistreatment of his beloved girl.

Getting the shopping inside was a whole other drama as he wasn’t allowed to help with that either. Sent to his living room, he found Shiro had made himself at home, cleaning up the trashed remains into something more put together yet nowhere near Lance’s high standards. He still needed a new coffee table, provided he’d be living long enough to enjoy it. With that room not needing dire attention, Lance found himself in his kitchen, not trusting Shiro to be near any open fire unsupervised. The clock already read 4:30pm, a little, lot, later than he would have liked the time to be. Lugging the last of the shopping bags in, Shiro hefted a sigh of relief before dropping himself down in the first available dining chair. Boy, if the man thought things ended there, he was in for a tough ride.

Waiting all of thirty second for Shiro to start relaxing, Lance clapped his hands, earning himself a groan

“What are you doing sitting down?”

“Wha...?”

“The real work starts now that we’re home. We’ve got a dinner party to cook for, and don’t think your lack of kitchen prowess is getting you out of it. You’re staying under my roof, which means you’re helping out. Besides, “Sleeping Beauty”, is gonna wanna eat sometime before he expires of old age”

Shiro sighed as he rose to his feet

“You’re right. You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”

“If you’re asking if I’m serious about my friends enjoying themselves, then yes I am. If you’re asking about Keith, he’s got a nice enough face, but that’s as far as it goes. He won’t eat what I cook, unless you want to lie to him about it. So, you’re helping, that way you can tell him the nasty blood sucker didn’t taint his precious food”

“That comment... it, um, it really got under your skin, didn’t it?”

“It’d be like me slandering all you hunters as wild beast killing Barbarians. I’ve come across them before, it’s kind of hard not to when you’ve been around a while, they usually prefer to be more direct with their kills”

Shiro nodded, his left hand moving to grab above his elbow on his right arm, as if Lance’s words had triggered him to remember some deep self-conscience secret

“I guess it is. But for the most part we are”

“Touché. I don’t want to admit this, but I don’t think I hate you as much as I should”

“For a vampire you’re not that bad”

“I could have told you that. Now, what does Keith like eating?”

“Something quick and easy”

“Thanks for that. Let’s put it this way, is there anything he’s allergic too?”

“He’s a bit iffy when it comes to milk... I was going to try make him some soup”

Lance couldn’t count the number of ways that could have gone wrong

“I can do soup. I got chicken today, so we’ll do chicken and vegetable for “Madam Dramatics”. You’ll be in charge of slicing things. I assume you’re skilled with a blade enough to know not to stab the vampire with pointy end”

“I’ve been around a blade or two”

“Good. Wash your hands then wash the vegetable”

Shiro stared at him blankly, Lance groaning

“Okay. I’ll wash the vegetables. You can work a peeler right?”

“I don’t know...”

Lance cast Shiro a serious frown. Vegetable peelers had come a long way since Lance was a child, but there were now easier than ever. Noticing the minute movements of Shiro’s lips, Lance wanted to smack him, yet instead he did the adult thing and used his words

“You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little”

“You know what, I take it all back. You’re not like an older brother, you’re like a dead beat father. Get to work on the vegetables while I start on the rest”

Having Shiro in the kitchen nearly ruined the joy of cooking forever. Lance didn’t really enjoy cooking the way Hunk did, but giving up on human food wasn’t an option when he was just another normal human being. He felt he’d be giving into his curse to give it up completely, and if he had the money, why not spoil his friends with some really good food? Asking Shiro to use the bones to make a chicken broth resulted in the bones being burnt. Then Shiro left the tea towel a fraction too close to the stove top and that started to smoulder. By the time the clock struck five, and that big beautiful best friend of his, also known as Hunk, walked through the kitchen door, Lance was nearly crying tears of frustration. He’d tasted Shiro’s soup, then promptly rushed to the kitchen sink to throw up, tiny flecks of metal stared up at him and Lance cursed Keith again. Walking up to Hunk, Lance wrapped his arms around him

“Thank god, you’re here”

Patting Lance’s back, Hunk laughed nervously

“Um, thanks, man. Hello, Shiro. Nice to, um, see you again”

“Keith left his camera behind, he’s bad in the morning without his caffeine. Lance offered to let us stay for dinner. We came to collect it. You know how it is”

Hunk knew how unhappy Lance was about house guests. His friends knew that staying in his house wasn’t an invite just any old random got, unless it came from Pidge

“Man, it’s lucky that you left it here and not somewhere else. Not everyone is as kind hearted as Lance”

With his face so close to Hunk’s neck, Lance could hear Hunk’s heartbeat. He could see the veins that carried that fresh blood to and from Hunk’s brain. He’d never feed from him, but Lance was definitely having control issues. He needed blood, he needed to bring himself back under control. His body felt like he was wearing the meat suit of a stranger

“Man, are you okay? You’re totally bundled up”

“I’m fine, Hunkeroo. Just a bit of a sniffle, probably from that window breaking. Shiro’s volunteered to be your sous chef for the evening, thought I wouldn’t trust him with anything other than the chicken soup”

Hunk nodded, Lance stepping back out of his hold. Thank god he was so thickly padded Hunk couldn’t feel him shivering

“Wait, if Shiro’s here, where’s Keith?”

Lance opened his mouth, but it was Shiro’s voice that piped up

“Keith doesn’t like to admit it, but he gets pretty bad car sickness. He needed a nap before dinner to sleep it off”

Hunk nodded sympathetically

“I get that too. It’s horrible. I’ve got this new medication I’m on that really seems to help, I can give him the name if it’ll help”

“I don’t see the harm”

Shiro lied so naturally that Lance wondered if Keith did get car sick. Keith’s bad arse image was in tatters now. The next time the idiot tried to pick a fight him, Lance wasn’t going to hesitate in teaching his ego a lesson

“Right, well. Shiro’s here to help, he can’t be left unwatched. This one has the skill of burning water in an off kettle. I need to check my work phone, and I want to check in with Miriam”

Shiro questioned

“Miriam?”

Hunk nodded, already slipping into chef mode

“That’s his grandmother. Sure, dude. Take your time, but you know, not too much time...”

Hunk was taking a leap of faith, taking Lance’s “trust” of Shiro to mean he could take those tentative steps too. Hunk’s naturally loveable and huge hearted self didn’t need much of an excuse to love somebody. He prayed that whatever happened, Shiro would spare Hunk the pain of a broken friendship.

The door to Lance’s office had been left ajar. Making the most of it, Blue was curled up on his office chair, Lance softening immediately at the sight of his princess

“Blue... hey, baby girl”

Blue let out a “rowrr”, rolling over and stretching herself out in the chair, her head turning his way as it bobbed a little, like she couldn’t quite focus. With her precious little toes reaching towards him, Lance smiled down at his girl, not wanting to lift her off the chair where she was so comfortable. Walking over, he knelt down, scratching between Blue’s ears as she nudged up into the pats

“So this is where you’ve been? Daddy’s sorry. I left you all alone, my baby”

Laying his cheek on Blue, her fur tickled his nose, still too hypersensitive, but finding peace in Blue’s strong heartbeat. What was happening to him? All of this was strange, all of these heightened senses were scary. Disgruntled over being reduced to his pillow, Blue moved from beneath him, sticking her butt in his face in a half kind of squat as she licked her back, an accusing glare cast in his direction

“You’re the one who moved. I didn’t want to disturb you”

He swore Blue understood every word, his girl quick to jump off the chair and strut away out the door.

Sighing as he was left alone, Lance hadn’t actually wanted to call his Mami. He didn’t want her knowing he was sick or stressed, but his list of go to people were short. With his body changing, he figured he should reach out to Coran for answers, but was scared off at the idea that Shiro or Keith might have bugged his office. Vatican sanctioned hunters were no joke. God’s love was found in the light, while his species were seen as unworthy night freaks that should be decapitated at the first opportune moment. It wasn’t like him to be so depressed, he needed to get his shit together and keep strong, so why was he letting himself spiral like this? He’d met hunters before, forced to flee long ago and barely in his late 20’s. He thought he’d done such a good job of blending in, of being likeable to everyone. Now he was just too damn scared to think of his next move. A truce between him and Shiro could surely not last longer than tonight. Shiro only agreed not to kill him due to his human friends. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t want to drink Keith’s blood in the first place, so why did he have to be punished when he’d pretty much saved Keith from himself.

“Freeze, bloodsucker”

What happened to Keith being in bed? So weak he needed his big brother to fend for him? Turning his head, he rested his other cheek on the chair as he looked to Keith. Keith looked sleepy, yet unamazingly alive. A proper nap would fix up much of his appearance, as would a series of face masks to help with the whole “black bag panda” look he was rocking. Pointing a gun in his direction, Lance couldn’t even be surprised by it

“Just so you know, Shiro and I have a truce at the moment because there’s a human in the house”

“You think I care? You fucking turned me”

Lance moved his head again, flipping back to the other cheek and staring at his desk

“You’re not a vampire”

“I am too! You bit me”

“You punched me in the teeth”

“You still turned me!”

“Keith, fuck off. You’re not a vampire”

“I am! I received a vampire’s bite”

“Nope”

“I’m turning. I can feel it. My body feels different”

“That’s because you’re a dumbarse. Relax, you’re still human”

“I’m not! You ruined my life, the least you can do is die!”

Before Keith could react, Lance was standing in front of him. Grabbing the muzzle of the gun, he held it up to his chest in line with his undead heart

“You’re not a vampire. Fucking shoot me if you want to, but I never fucking turned you”

It was interesting to hear Keith’s heart begin to race with fear. His eyes were something else, Lance staring him dead in the eyes, feeling like those eyes could steal his very soul

“You turned me”

“I didn’t turn you. Now, either you shoot me right here, or you go back to bed like a good little boy. Shiro’s worried enough about you as it is”

“You have no right...”

“I have no right mentioning his name? Is that it? Sorry to break it to you, but until tomorrow morning, and my friends have all gone home safely, your stupid arse is stuck here. Now, I’m going to have a bite to drink while you go back to bed. Neither of us are going to tell Shiro you pulled a gun on me while a human was in the house, and you’re going to get through you think mullet covered head, you are not a vampire”

Letting the gun go, Lance turned and walked back to his desk, making a show of calmly pulling down a wine glass and opening his safe. His blood supply had been fucking halved, probably by Keith, and Lance kind of hoped that the idiot would have taken a sip by now and see he was still the stupid human he’d always been. Feeling Keith’s eyes remain on him, Lance sighed

“Can’t a man get a moment of privacy in his own home?”

“How can I trust you? How do I know you aren’t planning on pulling out your own gun”

“Because you fucking tossed my office already. If there a gun in here, your dumbarse would have found it. Now, shoo”

Keith did not “shoo”, either the whole encounter had taken so long Shiro got worried, or Hunk had mentioned Lance was headed to his office, whatever it was, Shiro didn’t take long to interrupt the one sided staring match

“Keith! What are you doing out of bed?”

With Shiro finally there to break the tension, Lance poured himself out a third of the blood bag

“I’m not human any more, Shiro...”

“Keith. I get that this change is hard for you, but we’re going to get through this together. Lance has people over tonight, we can’t make a move until they’ve left”

“He’s a vampire and he fucking turned me!”

All Keith needed to was start stomping his feet and he’d have impersonating a cranky toddler down pact

“Keith, please. Whatever he’s done to you, I won’t rest until we have a cure. Right now, Lance is only source of information. I know it hard, but you need your rest”

Lance’s opinion of Shiro’s intelligence dropped. He’d told Shiro that Keith wasn’t a vampire. Yet there Shiro was, assuring Keith they’d find a cure. The only cure was death. The whole “kill the sire” thing didn’t work, the two who’d sired Lance had to have been killed off by now... unless they were born into the vampire way of life. Lance actually hadn’t the first clue about how a vampire was “born” and not from being bitten and turned. Perhaps blood in the infants milk? That was the only reasoning he could some up with. Maybe if he hadn’t clung to his human roots, he would have ventured out to learn more about the beast he was.

“Fine. Tonight, and only tonight, I’ll let you off, but come tomorrow, you better tell me everything I need to know before I kill you”

Whooo hoo. One last dinner, at least it’d be with his friends. Keith’s carrying ons were enough to make his headache increase tenfold, bitter as he muttered

“Go away already”

[thecandywrites]

Of Heaven and Fire Part 16

And this is the part that will hurt the most.  This is it. The fiery crash that no one can look away from, only wince and grimace and watch on helplessly as everything falls apart and goes to shit. The part that will hopefully hurt so good. 

@probablyclever​ @imherefortheforthefanart​ @funmadnessandbadassvikings​ 

Of Heaven and Fire 

Part 16 

“Good morning,” you greeted Rhos as you met with her in the market the next morning as she embraced you, careful not to put too much pressure on your abdomen. 

“Good morning Sweetheart, how are you?” Rhos greeted before she eagerly put her hands to your belly to feel for kicks before you moved her hands to where you had felt them. 

“Good morning Brock.” You greeted him graciously. 

“Is it?” Brock sneered before his mother glared at him. 

“Brock, have some decency and be nice.” Rhos insisted. 

“What? It’s not a good morning, it’s barely a few hours after sunrise and the heat is already getting too high.” Brock complained. 

“It was a greeting, you can return a greeting.” Rhos insisted with a look that could freeze lava.

“He doesn’t…” You tried to dismiss. 

“Yes, he does, he can have some manners or else the entire clan will think I’m an unfit mother and warchiefress that I couldn’t teach my own son manners.” Rhos insisted. 

“Because it’s always about you.” Brock grumbled under his breath and rolled his eyes but you and Rhos still heard it. 

“Brock, I swear to the gods that if you don’t pull your shit together right here right now and grow up and have some decency and manners, I will yank down your trousers and beat your ass like you’re 2 and I’ll get everyone around me to help me do it too, you set the tone for how you’re treated.” Rhos threatened as her and her son had a stare off as your cheeks flushed with embarrassment for Brock’s sake. 

“Ahem. We’re waiting.” Rhos cleared her throat and stared him down. 

“Good morning Ms. Auksa.” Brock begrudgingly offered because calling you by your name was too intimate for him. 

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m hungry, I’m gonna get something to eat.” Brock huffed before he turned and stomped away. 

“Was he like this before?” You asked Rhos. 

“Gods no, I have no idea what’s gotten into him. Even when he was 2 he never acted this badly.” Rhos answered. “And I can not apologize for him enough. Come on, let’s go shopping.” She urged you as she started to notice a few items in the market place and suggested you do something similar for Brock’s courting gifts. 

Brock watched on skeptically from a chair at a pub nearby as he seemed to want to drink his weight in ale even at this early hour, the stronger the better and was happy to turn a whole chair into gold to pay for unlimited food and drink at the pub for the day as he ate the leg of a roasted hog that had been roasting on a spit all night with a heavy spiced black bread and a spicy sauce on the side for dipping the bread and meat into along with a whole dozen fried eggs. 

He almost hated how much abundance there was in the clan, he felt like yesterday everyone was hungy and today everyone was stuffed with food going to waste as the dogs themselves got fat off the scraps. Ale flowed like the river and everyone was opening up their little eateries in front of their houses both in the clan and in Drauch as the short stairwell to it was nearby, where you could get everything from livestock to wild game prepared how you wanted it in addition to all the seafood that now flowed into the clan from the sea and everyone got a share of all the sales of all the seafood in Suchi so that everyone had more money than they knew what to do with. 

He hated it because according to everyone else, it was because of your presence in the clan that things were this way. It didn’t matter how much praise he got from the clan for going through all the trouble of getting you here, he felt ignored and abandoned whenever he was in your presence and even away from it because all anyone could do is look upon you with joy and adoration, but yet he felt resentful when their eyes went from you to him. And even now as you walked through the market with his mother and Kari, like you were her daughter or a close friend, it burned him up inside. He felt a jealous rage that somehow you had replaced him in the family and you were everyone’s favorite now. But every time he tried to voice any of this, he couldn’t get the words out and what little he could get out, made no sense to anyone so he kept his mouth shut because who would hear him without contradicting him? According to everyone, you could do no wrong and you were some perfect goddess from heaven here walking about and mingling with them. And he couldn't complain or criticize you in the least because if he did, suddenly he was the mean asshole and everyone came to your defense. So here he sat and stewed. 

“So, how did you and Drad court?” You asked her as you strolled through the spice vendor’s booth, putting together spice mixes from the vast array of spices.  

“Well, I had it easy, my sister Esri and I were the prettiest women in the clan but one of the poorest families because it was just her and I and our mom Rhidra and we had no father or brothers to go on raids but we made our living by finding mussels and clams and oysters for pearls in waters shallow enough to dive in and clear enough that we could see what we were diving for. We had a little row boat and two mismatched oars and we managed to make a little hut for ourselves and the sale of those pearls was how we survived and the meat from all those shellfish was how we fed ourselves and we experimented a lot with how to prepare it all so that our palattes didn’t get too bored or too sick of the flavor of them. At that time, the current warchief’s eldest son Tar, who Drad had been a commander to, had wanted me as a third wife because I was so beautiful and such a hard worker and he was sure I could give him the sons he craved because his current wives had only given him daughters which he wasn’t happy about but I had no desire to compete for his attention but he felt he was entitled to me anyway and vowed that if he brought back enough gold from the raid to give to my mother for me so she could afford a decent house, he would buy me outright.” Rhos revealed and you could tell even after all this time, she still was repulsed by the idea by the shudder of her shoulders. 

“Both my sister and I had an affinity for cooking because we were so poor most of our food was either grown in our garden or foraged for or caught and we learned how to make fruits and vegetables delicious and learned how to make smaller game good in addition to the shellfish because that’s all we could catch on our own and we could walk all over the marsh and find all kinds of healing herbs and we both seemed to know what they were and how to use them instinctively. Anyway, so one day my sister and I went out on a hunt, wanting to get some venison and some herbs while Drad and his brother Sarg went out on a raid nearby with the rest of the warriors from the clan.” Rhos recalled. 

“We waited until the roar of the fight died down to emerge from our tent and we found Drad and Sarg trying to drag each other away from the battle ground and in the far distance we could see others from our clan who had fallen. Each of them had a broken limb and had pretty serious wounds and we immediately went to them and helped them back to our tent where we put them on our own bedrolls while we slept on the deer hides inside the tent, thankfully we had each gotten a deer earlier and had skinned them and were in the process of tanning the hides and smoking the meat which that scent is what drew Drad and Sarg to come our way. We used what herbs we had found for medicine and cooked the couple of deer we had managed to kill more quickly to feed them and us along with the mushrooms and other herbs for flavoring we had gathered and we did our best to patch them up and set their bones straight and we saved their lives because of how we were able to mix the herbs together, we got the wounds to stop bleeding and eased their pain and so we just tried patch them up and let them rest and recover in our tent and the other female warriors from the other clan just saw Esri and I outside the tent gathering what we could, thinking we were on a foraging trip and left us alone since we didn’t pose any kind of threat to them and in fact we helped them find their own mushrooms and other herbs and they were happy to leave us in peace and even gave us pointers about where all the good fish in the river nearby was as we tried to make sure they stayed away from our tent to protect Drad and Sarg which worked. They didn't suspect a thing. The next day we went back to the river to the spots the female warriors had told us about and Esri had managed to catch a giant catfish in the river and I had found some huge mussels, these things had to be 20 plus years old, they were the biggest mussles I had ever seen in my life and the mussels had the prettiest most colorful pearls in them when we brought them home and cooked them for Drad and Sarg and Drad took that as a sign and a blessing that I would bring him riches and he let me keep all the pearls from all the mussels because I was the one that found them and gathered them but was very pleased that I shared them with my sister but let him and his brother keep the biggest two so they wouldn’t go home empty handed from the raid.” She revealed as she then picked up a muscle from the pile at one of the seafood vendors and shucked it and found a little pearl in it and handed it to you with a grin because the woman couldn’t pick up any shellfish without finding something akin to a pearl inside it. 

“The next day after that we went foraging again and I found a cave where a dragon had once lived, the dragon had been caved in and couldn’t get out of the sea cave and once I got in there, I found it’s skeleton and scales. I gathered all the scales and teeth I could, I made several trips and I made Drad a suit of armor out of the dragon scales along with a brace for his leg and one of the dragon’s canine teeth I made him a dagger and one of the smaller dragon teeth I had made a sewing needle out of so I could sew the scales together and after that, Drad was convinced that I had the god’s blessings because of of my luck with the warriors from the other clan, because all the mussels I got had pearls, and all the medicine I made for him healed him, and the fact that I found a dead dragon in the cave and got the scales and was clever enough to know what to do with them, was enough for him to propose himself as my mate and swear to me that I would never have to compete with anyone else for him and so I agreed and that mating session was quite good because even though he was hurt and couldn’t mount me, I mounted him and rode him like a stallion and he was just in awe of me ever since.” She remembered with a bit of a giggle as her own cheeks flushed a little at the happy memories. 

“Once they were healed and could walk, we broke down camp and went back to the clan and by then, everyone realized the failure of the raid and no one from the warchief’s family had survived and the victors had come to claim the lands and the little village itself and Drad being Drad immediately seized the opportunity, convinced the clan that he should be the next warchief because he had survived the battle and was second in command to Tar and had a mate and I was already blessed by the gods and was the “best warchieftess possible” because I was there to heal his wounds and feed him food and make him armor which he was all too proud and happy to show off and what was left of the clan agreed and started to follow him and he put Sarg in charge of the fishing fleet and we set our sights on the sea and rivers, in fact it was this river and this patch of sea since the old ones had been taken by the conquerors who you now know as Hurricane Breaker and this land was unclaimed and it was this river that I found the huge mussels that had the pearls. And that night Drad mated with me, pretty loudly for the whole clan to show how verile he was, which I thought was a little embarrassing but he is hung like a horse and he knows how to use what the gods have given him and he had me moaning and keening and forgetting that the outside world ever existed with how he made love to me and to no one’s surprise I got pregnant with Brock and that was that.” Rhos revealed and all you could do was remember how Brock used to have sex with you and how similar Brock was to his father in that respect. 

“So since Brock is definitely his father’s son, what you need to do is show Brock how you’re the best option for him. Give him betrothal gifts that no one around here can match and prove to him that there is no one better for him than you and his sense and honor should do the rest.” Rhos advised as you nodded in understanding. 

By the time you came back around to the pub, Brock had drank enough that his inhibitions were out the window and some musicians had started to play music and to everyone’s surprise, Brock was dancing. But he wasn’t dancing like most drunks usually try to do, no he was dancing as if he was born to dance and all you could do is watch in astonishment yet feel somewhat saddened that you wished the old Brock would return to you if it meant he could give up his new dancing skills and you felt jealous when his former courters were dancing with him because ever since he was born again in the flames and they found out he lost his memory of the last six months, they suddenly realized they had a chance to win him back, despite the rest of the clan recognizing you as his betrothed. 

“Oh so when Benyana dances, she’s a whore, but when you dance with actual whores, it’s ok?” Rhos chastized him when he was done as the women he had been dancing with flushed with shame because they had tried to move on but the moment Brock was suddenly “available” they came flocking back to him and Rhos made no mistake of calling them out and making sure the whole clan knew who she approved and disapproved of. 

“Don’t you two have more money to spend?” Brock spat as he tried to brush her off as he picked up his stien to drink some more but the round of ghastly gasps was the only warning he got when the stein was slapped out of his hands before his dad seemed to appear out of nowhere and punched him in the face and sent him landing on his ass, clutching his face before he looked up at who had hit him and fear suddenly filled his eyes. 

“Don’t you ever disrespect your mother, your warchieftess and your future warchieftess boy! Have you lost all sense and propriety?!” Drad thundered as the skanks suddenly dissappeared from the scene as Rhos simply stood and grinned smugly. 

“I just...I was...I drank too much and forgot myself.” Brock tried to excuse his behavior. 

“Really? That’s the excuse you want to use? Fine. From this day forward, you will abstain from all alcohol l and I don’t care how much gold you give to anyone. Anyone giving you any alcohol in this clan will be expelled from this clan. And any vendor who is not from this clan will no longer be able to sell here if they provide you with alcohol either. This will never happen again, will it?” Drad commanded. 

“No,” everyone else readily shook their heads no as Brock’s shoulders sagged in defeat. 

“Come on Dad, don’t you think that’s a little too extreme?” Brock tried to reason. 

“The alternative is I kick you out of the clan for disrespecting your warchieftess.” Drad leveled as Brock grimaced. 

“Fine.” Brock submitted. 

You waited until everyone disbursed and Brock got up and dusted himself off before he watched you go to his father and pull Drad aside and talk to him and he could tell just from the look on your face and body language and gestures that you were pleading in some kind of way as Rhos also joined in the conversation as the three of them suddenly made a decision and nodded before even his father put his hands to your belly to feel for the kicks and was so happy when he felt them before even he hugged you and kissed the crown of your head affectionately before you bid them goodbye and quickly left with Kari in tow as you made your way home since all that girl wanted to do was hang out with you and was your best friend despite your age difference. 

“Now what?” Brock asked as he came over. 

“Your future warchieftess is too good to you. The only alcohol you’ll be drinking from now on, if you so choose to partake in it- will come from her hands and only after you have asked nicely for it and only if she feels safe and comfortable enough with you and welcome in your presence and is sure you won’t make a fool out of yourself if you do drink it and you must drink it in her presence and only her presence all while being the most charming, respectful version of yourself that you can be. And when she cuts you off, you’re cut off.” Drad compromised. 

“I’d rather never drink again then.” Brock angrily hissed before he stalked away as Drad kept Rhos from actually killing her son. 

“What are we going to do about him?” Rhos growled. 

“If he continues to act like a child, then we will treat him like a child. Hell put him on an allowence and put him on restrictions until he remembers how to act right.” Drad suggested before he sat his wife down at the table Brock had occupied and finished the rest of Brock’s meal since they didn’t want it to go to waste as they brainstormed together about ways to make Brock snap out of this childish phase he was born again into as you were at your house and trying to think of ways to court Brock in such a way that he would want to be mated with you before you went over to Dastrin’s house. 

“Hey Yana,” Dastrin greeted as he came out from his kitchen, having been helping, well, more groping than helping his mate make some bread, both of them covered in some flour and white handprints all over the other as they did their best to dust themselves off. 

“Sorry, I should come back at another time.” You tried to excuse yourself. 

“No, no, you’re fine, stay.” Kallimisa reassured you as she sat you down in a chair. 

“So how are things?” Kallimisa asked before you revealed what had just happened as Dastrin just let his shoulders sag as he face palmed himself. 

“That man is going to be in a world of hurt if he doesn’t knock it off.” Dastrin could only shake his head. 

“Well, Rhos has advised me to court him in the traditional orc sense and give him betrothal gifts that have no equal,” you revealed. 

“Oh, make him an offer he can’t refuse, smart.” Dastrin grinned schemingly. 

“Basically. She told me about the suit of armor she made for Drad out of dragon scales.” You recalled. 

“Oooh, that would be easy to replicate. Just go back to Suchi and you’d get crates of dragon scales.” Kallimisa realized. 

“And you could use Cugas as your model since Cugas and Brock are near identical.” Dastrin advised. 

“You could even make him clothes out of dragon wool and dragon silk to go under the armor and boots from dragon leather. I’ll hook you up.” Kallimisa reassured you since her family bred a lot of the dragons in Suchi and were masters at dragon goods. 

“And weapons, commission the best blacksmith you know of to make the best swords and battle axes they can since that’s a gift you don’t have to make yourself.” Dastrin suggested. 

“That way, he’ll be armed and protected from head to toe. No warrior would ever turn that down.” Dastrin reassured you as a plan formed in your mind. 

You could do this, you would win and earn him back, one gift at a time if you had to. 

It took time, about a month in total. But you went with Drauch back to Suchi and got crates of dragon scales of all different colors and patterns and got a ton of help from Kallimisa’s family with all kinds of dragon wool and dragon silk and began to use Cugas as your model to make Brock clothes and armor so that when and if Brock ever saw battle, he would be safe while Kaive also bought his fair share of dragon products so that he and Cugas could match in attire which Cugas thought was the most romantic thing ever. 

Your dad helped you make a sword and a battle ax for Brock since your father was one of the best blacksmiths you knew of. Using those meteorites from the first orc attack and other metals that had been mined out of the mountains. They would stay insanely sharp but were harder than any other swords and battle axes and you helped make a special shield for him too. You bought a special bow with dragon toothed tipped arrows for Brock as well.

While you did all that, you gathered every recipe for medicine you could get your hands on along with actual medicines. You had horn of unicorn and dragon bone powder along with milk of poppy and other medicines and had a special satchel made that was embossed with the clan’s symbol and colors and Brock’s name in it and many more gifts and once all these gifts were done and made and gathered, then you got to work making him a feast that would end all feasts, making sure to include dishes that were not only favorites of his but of the clan as a whole too. 

You got a herd of cows from another colony known for their amazing beef and these cows were the fattest cows you had ever seen in your life that had been raised im padded stalls and fed grains their whole lives and massaged daily and given sake and beer so that when you butchered them, there was just as much fat marbling in the beef than there was actual meat if not more so. You also got a flock of huge chickens, Brahmas, these chickens were actually incredibly tame and sweet along with several other kinds of chickens so that you had a whole rainbow of eggs. You even got special breeds of milking cows so that you would have a steady supply of milk, cream, butter and cheese. You also bought horses, lots of horses and got the most amazing stallion for Brock along with all kinds of livestock, the best of their kinds, having to build a huge barn in a cloud to keep them all. 

You spent three days preparing for this feast since it had to be made by your hands and it could have fed a hundred people but it was only for Brock and his family and his closest generals and commanders, all while battling morning sickness and sexual cravings that were driving you insane because you only wanted Brock to alleviate them but he was the last person who wanted to help so you were stuck suffering and trying to pleasure yourself which the bigger your belly got, the harder that was to do too. 

The day before, you had Brock’s siblings and friends help you set up a large tent outside of Brock’s house as you set up the many tables for the food to be brought over and the kegs of different ales and wines were delivered and yet Brock was nowhere to be found and when he came back at midnight, he was as drunk as could be and passed out the moment he crashed onto his bed and everyone seemed to have witnessed Brock getting little flasks of liquor from his former courters but he could only drink it in the safety of the woods away from the prying eyes of the clan. Whether he bedded them for the liquor no one knew but you just had to pray that if he did, his seed would not take root in them because the last thing you wanted for your son was to compete with others for his father’s attention and affection even though Drad and Rhos assured you and reassured you that in their eyes, only your son would be heir and all others would be cast out of the clan and recognized to the clan as the clan’s whores and all their children would be deemed bastards if need be. Which that seemed to be enough to keep all the other women from making any claims or even hinting at a potential pregnancy where Brock was the father. 

Meanwhile Brock was just in a perpetual state of frustration. Because even out of spite, he had tried to fuck his whores but his cock was as small and flacid as a seasponge and nothing they could do could entice it to “wake up”. Sea cucumbers could boast of being bigger and harder than his manhood because it acted like he was constantly in the coldest of water. He couldn’t even masterbate. But one look or hopeful smile from you or just the sound of your laughter when you were with his family, he was bigger and harder than a boulder. Like his cock would only get hard with you around and no one and nothing else. And it didn’t matter what you wore, you looked amazing no matter what, you could just be walking and he could see grace in your steps and when you had danced with his little sister Kari, showing her how to dance a particular very innocent dance, you might as well have been naked in his eyes because all he could do is look at you and imagine your body in motion and he wanted you but he was loathe to admit it. Even when you were in the simplest of clothes, his eyes could find your curves and your pregnant belly was especially attractive to him and there were so many times he just wanted to come over to your house and fuck you raw just for some semblence of a release. He was so desperate he was close to his breaking point but he couldn’t admit that to anyone, especially himself and instead he seemed to want to revolt against these leanings. The more he was attracted to you, the meaner he got and the harder he tried to resist this. To the point he lost all freedoms, all autonomy, all privacy and all power and say so in anything unless it was in agreement with you and he felt he couldn’t breathe without his parents, especially his father coming down on him. But all that did was make him even more embittered and resentful. 

He could tell you were preparing courting gifts and the closer you got to completing them, the more panicked he felt because his parents had made it clear, that if he didn’t accept you and the gifts, then he was was not going to be accepted in the family and was never going to be warchief without you as his warchieftess. Even his siblings distanced themselves from him, Kari especially wanted nothing to do with him because he wasn’t ‘the same Brock’.

The morning of, you managed to kill four cows and one bull with the help of Brock’s generals and commanders who were all too happy to help you any way they could because they accepted you as their future warchieftess and they wanted to help ensure your success. All of whom marveled at the intense marbling of the beef and while they did most of the heavy lifting, they let you direct them since this was your feast that you were preparing as Cugas and Kaive brought you every delicacy from the sea and Rhos went hunting for pearl mussels, something she had not done in a while but she had forgotten how much she used to enjoy it as she found the best and biggest ones since she had gifts of her own for it while Drad helped keep Brock distracted with other clan matters, mainly where to get all the lumber needed to keep all these building projects going. 

When everything was ready, it was arranged in the tent and Brock was brought into it and you ceremonially washed his hands and his feet so that he could sit at the head of the table before you repeated the process to his generals and commanders, making sure each one sat at the table according to rank along with his family. This was seen as the most humble and gracious of acts as hostess and while you had some difficulty because of your pregnant belly making it awkward for you to carry the wash basin, you persevered. All Brock had to do was eat to the point he was stuffed, drink until his heart was merry and accept your gifts with grace and take you to your home where you would hopefully mate and he would hopefully use gentleness with you and that would be that, or so everyone hoped and prayed for. 

Once everyone was seated you served Brock first, showing him the marbling of the steaks and letting him pick whatever he wanted before you cooked them how he told you he wanted them as the mates of the married generals and commanders did the same with their mates while Brock’s sisters cared for the others. 

“So how do you like the ale My Lord?” You asked respectfully. 

“It’s too weak, it tastes like piss.” Brock answered as his generals and commanders nearly spit it out and choked. 

“You can’t be serious, this is the best ale in the clan!” Dastrin argued. 

“Yana, seriously, this is, hands down the best ale I have ever drank.” Cugas added as the others agreed to those sentiments which left Brock glaring at them for taking your side. 

“Well, that is an ale...I do, um, have a stronger, darker beer, it’s a stout, let me get you that and hopefully you’ll like that better.” You tried to appease as you took the ale away and got a fresh stein and filled it with the stout and served that to him before he took a sip and spit it at your feet as it splashed up on the edges of your skirt as others from the table gasped in horror as Drad got up from the other end of the table and started walking over. 

“I’m sorry that got on you.” Brock begrudgingly apologized before his father could get to him and beat him into the dirt which finally gave Drad a moment of pause before Brock sipped the stout. 

“This is much better, thanks.” Brock begrudgingly offered which made his dad grin smugly before he turned around as everyone blew out a breath of relief. 

“Even if it is a bit bitter.” Brock added which had everyone glaring at him as you let your shoulders sag because if this is the way it was going to start, it didn’t bode well for the rest of the meal. You feared that by 12th refill that he was beyond drunk but he would not smile, not laugh, not make any indication that anything you had done had pleased him at all. 

In fact, he found fault with every single thing. 

The steaks were either too tender and too fatty. So you brought out every other kind of cut of meat from every kind of animal and he found something he didn’t like about all of them, they were all either too lean, too fatty, too tough, too tender, too undercooked, too overcooked, too spicy, too under flavored and he critiqued every, single, thing and everyone by this point was beyond fed up with this and everyone was about to pull their hair out. He even hated the decorations of the tent because they were too luxurious. 

He thought that the mussels were too big and the dozens of pearls inside were obviously fake because they were too perfect and you had some how implanted them in the mussles. He thought the complex dishes were obnoxious, he thought the simple dishes were lazy, he thought the scented woods you used to grill the steaks and other foods stunk up the space, he thought the soothing incense was a waste if not distasteful. He thought the beer was too bitter or too smooth or not strong enough, the wine was too sweet or too dry and that you were insubordinate and traitorous because you enlisted help from others for the feast and he berated you for not being strong enough to do it all on your own even though it was his commanders and generals who insisted on helping you. Your betrothal gifts were given the same treatment and all you could do is stand there and watch helplessly as he verbally ripped everything apart. 

It didn’t matter how much his family and his generals and commanders tried to defend you, he wouldn’t let them speak. You and they were all embarrassed and ashamed of him and you could tell everyone in the room wanted to kill him for acting the way he did. 

All you could do is kneel next to him and do your best to accept his criticisms. But you had to finish the rest of the ceremony at least. You were not going to take him to bed. Even if he did accept these gifts, you knew he was too drunk and too angry and it was too much of a risk to your son if you tried bedding him. 

“Do you accept my betrothal?” You asked, even though you could already tell he would not as this nightmare that had been plagueing you finally came to fruition.  

“No! Of course not! How dare you try to court me with such atrocious things you wicked, conniving bitch! This was the worst courting ritual ever!” He roared as you winced and barely got out of the way fast enough when he over turned the table, all the food flying off as everyone barely managed to escape getting hurt before he grabbed at the tent and began to pull it down, ripping it off it’s frame before he picked up the gifts you got him and aimed them at you before you and the others fled out of the tent, barely able to dodge the objects as he threw them most viciously at you as his commanders and generals tried to block them before you tripped and fell to the ground, everyone else trying to come to your rescue and stop him from going further into his tirade before he managed to shirk them and get to you and picked you up by your neck and face and all you could remember was the first time he held your face on that first night. How he had firmly held your face to get your attention but not hard enough to hurt you. 

Now though, any semblance of control or gentleness was gone, it was all just pain as you struggled to breathe and kick as the others tried to stop him as benar flowed out of your eyes and down his hand before they fell off his hand and arm to the ground as you begged and pleaded for mercy as your moura cloak surrounded you in armor. 

“Please, Brock, stop!” You sobbed before he dropped you, your wings barely getting a chance to come out and curl around you to protect you from the fall as you managed to sit on the ground at his feet and cough and sputter and hold your burning throat as Brock was now surrounded by his generals, all of them having their swords and battle axes drawn and pressing at every spot on his body to keep him from moving lest he be impaled. 

“Leave! While you still have life in your body to do so!” Brock seethed and you could see the fire in his eyes and his throat, he was ready to burn you as you sat there and all you could do was nod in agreement before you got on your knees and reached into your satchel and retrieved the orb that the water dragons had gifted you as the whole clan gathered around to witness Brock’s worst tantrum yet as all you could do is feel regret that this horrible nightmare had come true. 

“Please accept this as a parting gift then. It was given to me by the water dragons and inside is the most precious possession anyone could ever want.” You offered shakily as you held it out in your dirtied and bloodied shaking hands out to him as you kept your head down, your benar falling to the ground at your knees. While you still didn’t know what was inside, you had kept it safe and hidden from everyone all this time and you were suddenly moved to give it to him. 

“Please know that I will raise the son you gave me with the utmost care. He will know happiness and love as well as he knows his own shadow. I shall teach him all the great legends of his father…” Your voice broke at the utterance of that term. “And of the legends from his mighty clan of Stormbreaker. Since you no longer wish to look upon my face, I shall do as you demand and leave. I will never again seek to see your face or hear your voice. May you and this magnificent clan know success and prosperity forever.” You bid him before he begrudgingly took the orb before you yanked your hands back to yourself, afraid he would grab them as Kaive, Rhos and Cugas, all who had tears in their eyes quickly gathered you up and Kaive carried you back to your house before Cugas and his siblings as well as Brock’s siblings used their moura abilities to lift your house off the ground and back into the cloud form with a huge chunk of land so that your son would at least have some soil from his clan and flew you away to Suchi as Rhos screamed her own damnation for ever conceiving and birthing Brock and disowned him on the spot as did the rest of his siblings. Kari especially flying up to your house to stay with you and her mother along with Brock’s siblings. Leaving Drad to deal with Brock. 

The surrounding waters pooling in the now cratered land and it revealed five large black eggs in an ancient abandoned nest buried deep underground and the moment the water touched the eggs, the waters themselves grew dark with silt before everyone in the clan glared at Brock before they disbursed and immediately started to gossip about what had happened as the wives of the commanders and generals made sure to tell them every detail about how you made the perfect betrothal gifts and perfect feast but Brock wouldn’t accept it and how awful Brock had been before Drad’s servants got to work trying to clean up everything. 

“Brock, you will be no warchief of this clan or any other for rejecting your rightful warchieftess and I quit being your commander.” All of his generals and commanders told him before they also went and tried to salvage what they could before Drad ordered for all your gifts to Brock to be gathered in the house so that they could be displayed for the whole clan to see what Brock had rejected as Drad took the orb from Brock’s hand so he couldn’t break it as Brock just growled in frustration and stomped away, his gait ever so unsteady from his drunkenness. 

By the time Brock had cooled his rage and came back, Drad was waiting for him on the front porch as all of Brock’s belongings were dumped unceremoniously in the yard as the whole clan had gathered around it, all of them continuing to glare hatefully at him.  

“No ungrateful son of mine will ever sleep in my house or eat my food or drink my ale, from this day on, you no longer live here and you are no longer my son because no son of mine would ever treat a woman, any woman like the way you just treated Benyana, she was pregnant and you held her by the throat and choked her and threw things at her, you disgust me and you have disgusted this clan. Since your mother has since disowned you, I also disown you and you are now the illegitimate bastard of a dead whore with no father and all your honor is being stripped of you.” Drad said before he gestured before Brock was seized and put into the ground and tied up before a blade was brought over and Drad cut his own son’s hair off to take off all the beads and all the braids of glory from his head. 

“Dad please! Please stop! I take it back! I take it all back! I accept Benyana. I accept her gifts and her betrothal.” Brock tried to desperately plead but everyone could tell, his heart was not in it, only his self preservation. 

“You can’t go back and take anything back! The damage and hurt you have inflicted with your own hands can never be healed and never be forgiven!” Drad roared as he yanked his son’s hair to cut it off chunks. 

“No one trusts you, no one respects you! You are worse than our greatest enemies!” Drad insisted as pained tears stung his own eyes as his own heart was breaking. 

“You are lucky I don’t kill you!” Drad threatened as he let the blade rest on the back of Brock’s neck as Brock began to tremble and fear that his life was about to end for good. 

“But death is too good for you! So instead you will be no better than a beast of the field. If you want a roof over your head, build it yourself, if you want food in your belly, you catch it and make it yourself. You will get no help from me, anyone else in my household and definitely not from anyone in my clan, you are not welcome on clan grounds and anyone who helps you is considered unclean and cursed.” Drad announced as his own generals and commanders, the fathers of the very men who had been Brock’s former generals and commanders who were now behind Drad as everyone readily agreed to those terms before Drad had taken most of Brock’s hair off and they let Brock go before Brock gathered his stuff before he was chased off of the clan’s lands, everyone throwing stones at him and chased him into the wilderness onto a small, lone island in the marsh where the mosquitos immediately feasted on him as the flies started to buzz around him and he could do nothing except try to cover himself and sleep on the grasses in the island and mourn for all that he had lost. 

“Why didn’t you just accept her?” Brock whimpered as he hugged himself and rocked himself into fitful sleep because even he could not answer such a question. 

[mustardprecum]

27 for harringrove please 🥺 (it’dbe appreciated if steve’s the one that’s preggers thank you!)

[27 “I’m pregnant.”]

Steve had decided to try and get pregnant. The notion came to him shortly after El’s birthday, when Steve realized that all his kids were over twenty-one. The abrupt ache of an empty nest got the ball rolling, and after more researching and reading than he’d done during any one year of school, he made his decision.

Most of the people in his life were well meaning when he told them, but also rudely disbelieving. After all, Steve was a single omega in his mid-twenties, mostly living off a trust fund from his parents and a hefty inheritance from his great aunt. Money he was very grateful for, considering he’d never be able to afford owning a house in the new development near downtown with his sporadic part time jobs. 

(Good ol’ Aunt Phyllis would have been stoked to find out that he choosing to be a single parent.) 

The issue with the public perception of his personality was the fact that it was largely based off the person he was in his sophomore and junior year of high school. Steve had grown and changed from the flakey teenager. One could almost say he was literally an adult. 

At least Dustin supported him. Mostly. 

“Steve, you can’t be serious.” 

Dustin sat at the island in Steve’s kitchen, eating a bowl of cut up strawberries that Steve had put out for him. Old habits die hard, and Steve had been one of the few people who could get a young Dustin to eat his fruits and vegetables. “I mean of all the people in Hawkins, in the world, why him?” 

Earl grey tea was kind of gross, but Steve was trying to stop drinking coffee for his caffeine fix. He took his time stirring in a packet of stevia while he considered his answer. 

Billy Hargrove had come along in Steve’s senior year of high school and had promptly become a massive pain in the ass. Although, one thing that set him apart from all the other alpha meatheads was the fact that his taunts and jabs were purely personal for Steve, and never once did he resort to misogyny. 

God, the bar had been so low at that time. 

Over the past ten years, Billy had mellowed out slightly but noticeably. He worked at the mechanic Steve frequented for oil changes and tune ups, and lived in the periphery of Steve’s life because of his association with Max. And he still seized every opportunity to try and rile Steve up by getting in his personal space and commenting on his ‘ugly’ shirts. 

(Steve didn’t know when Billy developed a hatred of polo shirts, but it was apparently long lasting.)  

In the grand scheme of things though, none of it mattered more than one thing: Billy’s genes. He was a dick of the massive variety but goddamn if he hadn’t spent the past ten years being the most gorgeous person Steve had ever seen in his entire life. 

He smoked like a chimney and often had a beer in hand, but his skin was clear, his hair was soft, and his abs were extremely enviable. 

“I don’t want to go through a clinic,” Steve started. He quickly held up his hand before Dustin could start ranting. “I’m not going to ask someone I babysat to donate. I’m not really close with any other alphas in town, and an alpha is my best bet.” 

Dustin knew all of that. As a male omega, Steve would have fertility issues with a beta for scientific reasons he didn’t actually understand. Mike and Lucas had both been presented as options in Dustin’s argument, but the idea was too wrong. 

“Billy is…close enough, but far enough. You know?” Steve set his mug down; he honestly didn’t want to drink his tea. “If he says yes, working on inception will be pretty easy. If he says no, it’s not really a big deal. We’re not friends, so it won’t have to be awkward.” 

Privately, Steve assured himself that it had nothing to do with the crush he used to have on Billy. Therefore, it wasn’t inappropriate to ask. 

“But he’s such a tool,” Dustin said around a mouthful of strawberries. “Do you think he won’t be a tool about it?” 

“God. I know he’s going to be a tool about it. But,” Steve shrugged. “Just think of how cute my baby would be.” 

Dustin raised an eyebrow. 

“I would have a really cute baby, Dustin. And you would have a really cute little baby pseudo-sibling.” 

Poor Dustin, the only child, twenty-three and still wanting that younger sibling. He perked up, still looking skeptical but finally chewing quietly. 

“Plus, it’s all going to be in a contract. No parental or financial obligation,” Steve added to sweeten the deal. “I’ll get a positive test, pay him, and he’ll fuck off to wherever he spends his time.” 

Dustin hummed, drumming his fingers on the table. “I’m still godfather?” 

“Obviously.” 

“Okay,” Dustin bounced, smiling broadly. He was excited for a baby, and when he smiled, he looked like a cheetah cub. “Well, Max said she’d text you his number so…good luck?” 

“Thanks.” 

-

Sending the text was nerve-wracking, even though all he sent was ‘can we get lunch?’ Steve had put his phone face down and tried to distract himself with scrolling through reddit and Tumblr, but waiting for a response was even worse than sending the message. 

He’d followed up with several messages explaining who he was, once it occurred to him that Billy probably had no idea who was texting him. Eventually, Billy finally responded telling Steve to stop blowing up his fucking phone. 

Despite Steve’s fears of Billy’s attitude after that response, he was invited to a Starbucks in between their homes. Steve distantly recalled Max mentioning that she was envious of the studio apartment that Billy was renting over a storefront. How privileged was he that he couldn’t imagine having the same room functioning as the bedroom/living room/public space? 

Billy was already there when Steve arrived. He was sipping a green frappucino and staring down at his phone. 

The last time Steve had seen Billy even in passing was the month before during the Hopper family’s Fourth of July party. He was even more gorgeous than Steve remembered even looking a little grimey like he’d come straight from work. 

“Hey,” he approached the table, trying to smile when Billy’s blue eyes snapped up. “Thanks for meeting me. Mind if I grab a drink real quick?” 

“Depends, pretty boy,” Billy leaned back, smiling in that special way that gave Steve a major sexuality crisis in high school. “Why did you ask me out?” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Steve whipped his head around as if anyone else cared about the two of them meeting up. No one was looking. He sat down heavily and sighed. “I’m…I have a favor to ask. But I kind of wanted to ease into asking.” 

“Interesting,” Billy drawled. “What could ‘King Steve’ possibly want from little ol’ me.” 

“I’m almost thirty, Billy. Please don’t call me that.” Steve looked down at his hands, maybe this was a bad idea. There was no way Billy would agree to being a donor. 

“Look Harrington, I’m leaving in five minutes so spit it out.” 

“Oh come on,” Steve whined, bouncing his leg. “It’s not the sort of thing you just spit out!” 

Billy slurped loudly at his drink. “You want me to murder someone?” 

“Obviously not. Kind of…the opposite?” Steve winced when his voice went squeaky toward the end. He cleared his throat, deciding to continue because Billy had wrinkled his nose. “Okay, so, I used to babysit a lot and I know how to take care of kids. I miss taking care of kids. And, well, I have money and time, right?” 

“Right,” Billy said blankly. 

“Right,” Steve nodded and took a deep steadying breath. “So I’ve decided that I want to start a family. With a baby. And me. Single.” 

Bringing up starting a family generally brought up the question of Steve finding someone to settle down with. The issue was that he didn’t want a partner or a romantic relationship; he didn’t feel that having a child should presuppose finding a mate.

“But I need a sperm donor and, uh, well,” Steve’s nerves were completely frayed at that point. Which was probably why he ended doing the saddest jazz hands. 

The blank look was gone and Billy’s eyes were practically sparkling, which Steve translated as trouble. He bit his lip, knee still bouncing noisily under the table. 

“A donor,” Billy practically purred. “You want me to get you pregnant.” 

When he phrased it like that, Steve couldn’t help but blush. He cleared his throat, wishing he’d just gotten a drink before bothering to speak to Billy so that he could sip it and buy some time. “Basically. You don’t have to sleep with me, the cup method works fine.” 

“And other than not-sleeping with you,” Billy sounded a little snotty. “What’s in it for me?” 

Only a little mocking was infinitely better than outright refusal. And he was getting to the part Steve was actually comfortable with. “$600 for each attempt,” he said. It was a lowball, but considering it was under the table, the supplemental income wasn’t half bad. “I’m tracking my cycle, so we’d only need to try about two days each month.” 

“And after?” 

Steve paused. “After inception I’ll give you an extra thousand.” 

“No, I mean once you’re pregnant, how does it work?” The serious look on Billy’s face was unnerving. Steve was briefly worried that he was about to say he wanted to stay in the picture. “You know how to take care of kids that don’t go home at the end of the day?” 

“Does anyone?” 

Billy’s face hardened. “You don’t just have a kid on a whim, Harrington,” he said lowly. “Can you actually take care of one for the rest of your life?” 

Living in a town like Hawkins and having a direct relationship with Max meant Steve was familiar with the Hargrove family history. How Billy’s mother abandoned him, how his father abused him, how long he’d lived in that toxic place before finally escaping and taking Max with him when it seemed Neil was turning on her as well. 

Despite how horrible that was, Steve couldn’t help the warm feeling in his chest. 

“I don’t yell, I don’t believe in corporal punishment, and I’m on book four of twenty on my parenting book reading list.” He didn’t add that they were all audiobooks because he had such a hard time reading. “I wouldn’t try to have a baby if I wasn’t ready to do everything I could to give them a good life.” 

Steve hoped his face was as open as he wanted it to be as Billy searched him. Of all the reactions he expected, this hadn’t been one. It made him feel better about Billy as a candidate. 

Finally, Billy slurped his frappucino again and grinned wolfishly. “When do we start?”

Continued on AO3

[minhoslut]

♡ summary: Reader is traded to a band of pirates in return for the safety of her village because of her plant magic. They are not like she expected, much more like her than she could even imagine in fact. This is a journey through their relationships and the high seas they sail on.

♡ pairing: superm x fem!reader, superm x eachother

♡ chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | ? |

♡ series warnings: blood mention, injury mention, swearing, anxiety, death mention, depression, weapons, mxm

♡ series genre: romance, smut, angst

♡ series rating: Mature

♡ word count: 1761

♡ posted on: AO3

♡ chapter three: so close

The rest of the day was just watching Mark talk to people until the sun had begun to set, then he brought you back down to the mess hall. He pushed you to sit down at the edge of the table and then sat as far away as he could. You rolled your eyes, not like you wanted to sit with him anyway, you didn’t even want to be on this stupid fucking ship. Ten came and sat beside you handing you a plate with a chicken leg on it and some potatoes. The other five boys joined the table soon after, the Captain taking his seat at the head, you, Ten, and Lucas on one side and Taemin, Baekhyun, Taeyong, and Mark on his other. You ate your food quietly as the men joked and talked with each other, ignoring their words in favor of imagining your sweet garden, how the peas would be ripe by now, sweet and crisp.

Glancing around the table you made sure no one was watching you before growing a single pod to eat. It wouldn’t be exactly like your gardens, but it was a small comfort you could provide yourself with. The fresh pea gave a satisfying snap when you bit into it, exactly how you had wanted it. Unfortunately, the crunch also drew seven pairs of eyes to your face. “Fascinating…” Baekhyun said, “Can you do other things?” Taemin asked, eyes shining. “What a useless thing.” Taeyong scoffed, turning away. “Sorry, it’s not what you had hoped for.” You shot back at him. Jongin held a hand up and everyone looked at him, “So Y/N, you’ve decided to show the others?” Jongin raised a brow at you.

“I wanted a comfort from home, is that so terrible?” You said, locking eyes with the Captain, earning a deep chuckle in response. “Never.” He replied with a smile, catching you off guard. You looked away quickly, it should be illegal to have that pretty of a smile. “It isn’t useless Taeyong, you of all people should know that.” The Captain said, giving Taeyong a pointed look, making the purple-haired man look away flushed. You were confused as to why Jongin was defending you, it was weird and made butterflies flutter unwantedly in your stomach. “Can you grow bigger things? Like a whole tree?” Taemin asked, bringing your attention to his excited face. “Well, yeah. It uses more energy though, so it's better for me to grow it in the Earth…” It was weird to talk about your magic, you hated it most of the time. Plus, Taemin was actually curious, in a positive way, which had never been the case.

“Could you grow me a strawberry?” Baekhyun asked his eyes in full-blown puppy mode. You thought about it for a moment and ended up giving in, growing the blue-haired man a plump red strawberry. You held it out for him to take, glaring when he received it with his mouth instead of his hands as you’d intended him to do. When he'd finished he grabbed your hands across the table, "That's the best strawberry I've ever had!" You tried to pull out of his grip, but he held you firmly. All these guys are much stronger than they look... "Thanks, I guess." You said reluctantly. By now dinner was basically finished, the Captain stood and dismissed everyone, exiting the room with Taeyong and Mark on his tail.

Ten and Lucas walked off together, heading who knows where leaving you with Taemin and Baekhyun who both stood. You realized that you had actually been given no orders as to where you had to go, and none of the boys had been told to watch you either. But then again, what would you even do on your own? What would the other crew members do if you weren't accompanied by one of the seven? You shuddered at the thought, even though you were fairly certain Captain Jongin had ordered you to be left alone. "Y/N come back to the cabin with us~" Taemin said coming over and linking arms with you. Baekhyun followed suit and latched on to your opposite arm, leaving you with no choice but to allow them to escort you back to the bunks.

Baekhyun sat on Taeyongs bed while Taemin flopped onto Lucas’, leaving you to tentatively sit on Taemin's bed unless you wanted to fall in an attempt to get up on your bed by yourself. “So, can you do anything else fun?” Taemin asked, looking at you expectantly, Baekhyun's face reflected the same look. “Uh, well I can help a plant that's already growing, grow faster. I can talk to them if they have things to share I hear it.” The men hmmed in fascination. “How much energy does it take for each thing?” Baekhyun asked, you thought about it for a moment, you never really tested it out.

“Well, it is basically nothing for me to grow a single piece of fruit or a vegetable, flowers even less. If I were to grow a fully mature tree, I’d feel as though I must rest for the rest of the day.” You explained, looking at your hands, the magic that ran through your body was nothing but a curse. “Can you grow something for me?” Taemin questioned, tilting his head curiously. “What would you want?” You surveyed him as he considered your own question. “A white rose, if you could.” You smiled at the request, roses were lovely flowers, you had many bushes of them in your garden. You’d thought he would have picked a food item, but apparently he was going to continue to surprise you.

“Alright, let’s do that then.” You opened your palm, growing the rich green stem, then letting the soft white petals unfurl one by one. When it was bloomed, you handed it to Taemin, who held it gently, a smile spreading across his face. “It’s beautiful, Y/N, thank you.” His words struck you, no one had thanked you before, much less for you using your powers. “You’re welcome, it’s no trouble though really.” It felt strange to be thanked, you felt unsettlingly happy from his kind words. “How often do you go on land, to get things?” You tried changing the subject. “Well usually we only stop at certain ports, but if we were really running low we’d just stop somewhere and take it.” Baekhyun said tapping his chin thoughtfully, “That doesn’t happen often though, Mark stays on top of everything.” Taemin added.

“That I know. I was forced to follow him around all day while he checked the stock.” You said with an eye roll, making the two men chuckle. “He’s headstrong that boy, fiercely loyal too. An excellent boatswain.” Taemin said a fond smile on his lips. “What are your labels then? If he’s boatswain, and Lucas is cook.” You asked them. “I’m quartermaster, I make sure everyone does as they are told and put punishments in place if necessary.” Baekhyun answered with a playful smile. “And I am the lookout, watching to make sure no enemies are near and helping to ensure we are headed on the right track.” Taemin supplied, sounding proud of his placement.

“A lookout sounds interesting, I wish I’d been with you instead of Taeyong and Mark. Those two are rotten.” You spit, reminded of Taeyongs treatment that morning. “They aren’t all bad, they just feel like they must show the captain a certain image.” Baekhyun says softly, the look on your face making you regret saying anything against the two, despite everything. "I wish you'd been with me too, it would have been fun~" Taemin said sending a smile directly to you. "Or you could've hung out with me while I ordered people around!" Baekhyun said, puffing out his chest. You giggled, "Sounds like less fun than look out sorry." You teased him, surprised by yourself at the friendly act.

It seemed like this was an effect that these two especially were constantly having on you. Making you feel safe and happy on a ship you had no business being. "Well I hope I don't have to deal with those two again tomorrow, they are frustrating, to say the least." You sighed, trying to use slightly kinder words in honour of Baekhyun. “The Captain is speaking with them now actually, giving them a bit more information on your… situation.” Taemin said, piquing your interest. "What about my situation?" At your question, Baekhyun shot Taemin a look and they both shut their lips tightly. "How about you show us some other magic?" Baekhyun suggested, switching the subject quickly with a somewhat forced smile. You glared at him, why were they always tiptoeing around the reason for you being here. It was frustrating to no end, and you were getting sick of it.

“I hate these powers, I hate having magic.” You could feel the emotion bubbling up as you spoke. “Y/N, the magic is a special thing. It’s a gift.” Baekhyun said, in a way that made it seem like he knows a whole lot about magic. “What do you know about living with magic? About my life? It's a fucking curse! I hate it! I hate magic!” You were yelling now, hands clenched tightly. “Y/N, that’s, that’s not-” You cut Taemin off, “Don’t fucking act like you know me, like you care about me. Yeah, my life was shit before, but at least I wasn’t on this dumbass boat with a bunch of fucking pirates who treat me either like shit or act like they didn’t kidnap me from my home.”

You were fuming, hot angry tears began to pool in your eyes. “I’m sorry Y/N, for it all. We just, Captain doesn’t want us saying anything, but it isn’t fair to you.” Baekhyun said, looking you directly in the eye. You stared right back at him, “I’m going to speak with him, okay?” With those words he left the room, leaving you alone with Taemin. Taemin came over to where you sat on his bed, sitting down beside you and enveloping you in a tight hug, You froze. No one had hugged you since you had been cursed. Taemin held you close to him, despite you not giving any reciprocation. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry you hate magic, I’m sorry you hate us, I’m sorry.” He was barely whispering, his voice thick with emotion.

The tears finally began to stream down your cheeks, you were tired of this, of everything. Why did you have to be cursed.

[nettheworldonfire]

Bottle v.s. Boob

Breast is Best is our little girl's motto. In fact, if she were old enough, Olive would probably have the bumper sticker. This is why weaning my 6.5 month old, before her body or mine is ready, is a pretty devastating feat. Let me start by saying, I think formula is amazing. I have no qualms with those who choose to formula feed for their or their baby's best interest. Formula has everything a baby needs, built right in, and has the convenience of being able to be given by ANYONE (in theory). I went back to work at 3 months postpartum with Charlie. I was never able to keep up with a demanding pumping schedule, and slowly, my supply decreased, making Charlie exclusively formula fed by 8 months. Knowing I was headed back to work and that this might happen, we got him used to the bottle right away. We made sure he would take formula and everything went very smoothly. This time was different. Knowing I would be home with Olive for a year, I didn’t NEED to bottle feed. Still, I would obviously appreciate a break, or need one to write my dissertation, so we tried the bottle here and there. She would take an ounce on occasion, but often spit that up quickly, and sometimes violently refused, allowing milk to pool in her mouth and causing her to gag/choke.

Finding out that I have about 2 weeks to wean Olive may be the worst part (thus far) of this entire ordeal. Nutritionally, I think we can get her to eat what she needs to. She eats a lot of healthy solids. Fruit and vegetable purees and small pieces of fruit like pineapple, avocado, watermelon, and banana. She's eating eggs, yogurt, a little rice, noodles, and puffed rice snacks. There are plenty of other things I know she can and will enjoy eating - and I have been doing some research on high fat and high calorie foods. We've already started adding formula to yogurt and puree mixes, and she doesn't seem to mind. I can use it as the water in macaroni and cheese, or syringe it in her if absolutely needed. Plus, the pediatrician believes that with the types and amount of solids she eats, as long as we keep her calorie intake high enough (and not let her stuff her face with puffs and teething crackers) she should be fine. The issue is that Olive uses nursing as a sleep aid. When she's tired, that's all she can think about - the mom-nip. She is violently opposed to any other form of nipple entering her mouth, won't take a pacifier, and gets more and more frustrated. She does eventually calm with rocking and bouncing and singing, and will fall asleep in less than 20 minutes. She does not self-soothe and I have no interest in letting her "cry it out" - especially considering what is going on right now. Overnight, Olive cluster-feeds. I know this is more about comfort than hunger, but it works for us. She basically goes right back to sleep, making my life easier and not waking Owen and Charlie, and she's content. She pretty much sleeps for 10-12 hours most nights like this (waking to feed and drifting back to sleep). It isn’t perfect, but it works for us.

Once I realized this would have to soon end, I started keeping track of things. On Tuesday night, she woke up to feed five times. On Wednesday night, when I actively tried to change the routine, she woke four times and one of those times I rocked her to sleep instead of nursing. Last night, she woke up twice and I managed to only nurse her once. This involved one 4:30 a.m. fiasco, but it was manageable. Between the sleep deprivation of this sort of thing and being sick though, I am exhausted. And she generally seems less happy, which makes my heart heavy. This isn't the first time my body has failed me, but it is the first time my body is failing someone I love, and that is hard.

Aside from the emotional turbulence this is causing for everyone in the house, I also have the horrible awareness that stopping nursing will bring back the postpartum period hemorrhage that I so dread. (And I apologize if that was too much information, but want you to be aware this will not be the last time I do that in this blog - so the decision to be grossed out is yours).

Yesterday, I saw the amazing Louisa at the Breastfeeding Resource Center. This organization was a godsend when I was having challenges nursing Charlie as a newborn and I went back with Olive just for a refresher. When I emailed them to ask for tips or help with weaning, they again stepped up to the plate and were kind and informative, making me feel like I had a team of knowledgeable ladies in my corner (I know, I have hundreds out there ready and willing to advise and help, but this resource has just been incredible). That being said, there wasn't much "success" at this appointment. Olive wouldn't take the MAM bottle for them (I purchased one at their request to bring along to appointment). We've now tried the Enfamil disposable nipples (Charlie loved these), Tommy Tippee (Close to Nature), Spectra, the Mamijumi (some minor success), and the Honey Bear sippy cup that the doctor suggested, also. She’s also tried a variety of sippy and straw-style toddler cups. Nothing seems to be quite perfect, but we are going to keep trying. The BRC also gave me a nipple shield, typically used on a break to help a baby who struggles to latch to mom’s nipple. Several people mentioned that this may ease the transition from breast to bottle - so I would like to try (and it saved me the few dollars I was going to spend. Good thing too, because I am spending like $500 trying to find a bottle or pacifier or anything to soothe this little lady). The one thing that Lousia suggested which may be a game changer is birth control. She said many women take it to help reduce their supply. That may really make life a lot better. I HATE pumping. And to pump just to throw away my poisonous milk (that my daughter wants so badly but can't have) would just be torture. And how long will it take for me to naturally dry up? Plus - she could potentially nurse for comfort still if my body isn't dispensing anything into her mouth. I will obviously follow up with my OBGYN about the birth control and lactation question - but the BFC seemed to think this was an option. It could even help with a gradual decrease and therefore, a more natural wean.

I had always planned to look into medication for anxiety and moodiness after I was done having babies and breastfeeding, so I spoke with my primary about that this week. I've been struggling for a few years but didn't want to start anything I would have to stop during pregnancy or nursing, so I held off. I suppose this is a little bit of a silver lining. I am going to start Lexapro to combat some of the anxiety that is obviously getting worse with this looming shitstorm. I took Lexapro for a few months in 2010 when I had a little mental health struggle about six months after my dad passed away. I didn't love it. While I do think it did what I was hoping it would do (which was to help me break a weird cycle of crying/depression), it made me very, very tired (like needed to pull over to sleep during a 30 minute drive home from work tired), and I weaned off of the drug within a few months. I was lucky to not need it again. In 2012, before my Whipple I had HORRIBLE anxiety and a few attacks for which I was prescribed Xanax to help calm me (just a few days before the procedure). That definitely worked, but I felt under the influence at work, and probably shouldn't have been driving - so that wasn't ideal either. We will see how Lexapro does this time around and if I don't see much of a change - I may be asking you all for your favorites. My doctor is starting me on a very, very low dose to try to avoid the exhaustion, and we will go from there. Think happy thoughts.

In other news, after getting booted to Thursday for my biopsy, I got the automated call reminding me of my Monday appointment today. So I tried to speak with a real human and couldn't get ahold of anyone to check. It would be nice to know if I am having a procedure on Monday before Monday (for childcare, my mental health, planning, etc.) so if you have any idea on how to get this information (hospital is Nazareth) then please share!

On Monday, I have to call the OBGYN, the pediatrician, and Penn (to schedule my second opinion, for after the biopsy results are in).

* Dark side: Denying your baby a basic necessity is totally depressing.

* Bright side: When Olive is weaned, I am going to get so freaking drunk, you just watch.

* Next steps:

2/20/20 at 9:00 am - Liver biopsy under sedation (or is it 2/17/20 at 11:00 a.m., who knows)

3/2/20 at 10:15 am - Oncology appt. with Dr. Rose

* Inappropriate, but totally relevant, GIF -

[bentonpena]

Tofu Freaking Rules

Tofu Freaking Rules https://bit.ly/350TvUV

We need to talk about tofu. As Beyond Meat and Impossible Burger mania sweeps the globe, the OG vegan protein is getting left behind—and I, for one, hate to see it. If you’re serious about reducing your reliance on animal products, tofu has the potential to change your diet—and life—for the better.

To some extent, I get why so many people, particularly American meat-eaters, are resistant to the entire concept of tofu. Western culture has ruthlessly (and racist-ly) slandered the humble soy-based protein for as long as we’ve known about it, so a lot of us were basically programmed from birth to think it’s garbage.

I’m begging you to reconsider. When correctly prepared, tofu is a textural marvel, running the gamut from delicate and custardy to deep-fried and crunchy. Its unmatched flavor-absorbing powers make it a total chameleon; it truly can be anything you want it to be. I’ve loved tofu my whole meat-eating life, and I’m here to convert the naysayers. Welcome to my Tofu Manifesto.

You’re probably thinking about tofu all wrong

The biggest, wrongest tofu misconception is that it’s strictly a meat substitute. Sure, it can be that if it needs to—but tofu’s closest animal protein analog is actually the egg. On their own, eggs are bland; it’s their ability to morph into a staggering array of forms and textures that makes them so special. However you like your eggs—fried crisp with lacy edges, scrambled soft with lots of butter, or cooked into a puffy, tender frittata—I’m willing to bet your preferences come down to texture rather than flavor.

The same is true for tofu, which is why I’m skeptical when people insist they don’t like how it tastes. Soft and silken tofu has a more noticeable soy milk vibe than the firm stuff, but for the most part, it adds no flavor whatsoever to a dish. Tofu only tastes as good as the sauce it’s served in—texture is basically the whole point.

It’s embarrassingly easy to make tofu taste amazing

Contrary to popular assumption, delicious tofu takes barely any work at all. In fact, all the usual hacks try way too hard: Pressing takes forever (and freezing even longer); marinating often yields profoundly mediocre results; a cornstarch dredge too easily sogs out. None of these techniques work particularly well on medium-to-soft tofu, and with the exception of marinating, they also offer absolutely nothing in the way of seasoning.

For all of these reasons and more, the salt water trick is the only tofu hack worth knowing. Hot, salty water is a tofu prep triple threat: It dehydrates firm tofu so it crisps up quickly, sets super-fragile soft tofu so it doesn’t fall apart, and seasons everything through and through. It also adds as much work to your dinner prep as boiling pasta. I’ll get into the specific techniques in a bit; for now, just know that the salt water hack promoted tofu from something I’d buy occasionally to a legit, can’t-live-without-it staple.

If you remain unmoved, I’ve collected my favorite tofu products and preparations in one place, starting with the most hater-friendly ones. This isn’t a recipe post—it’s all about the technique. (Where applicable, I’ll link to specific recipes that I used and explain how I adjusted them to work with tofu, with the hope that you’ll soon be doing the same.)

Even hardline skeptics love fried tofu puffs

Tofu puffs are cheap, delicious, deep-fried flavor sponges that need zero prep; in other words, they’re easy to love. You can toss them whole into curries and stews for a fun textural element, but I strongly recommend taking 30 seconds to slice them in half. With their honeycomb-like interiors exposed, these puffy little nuggets soak up sauce like nobody’s business—without compromising their crispiness.

To show them off, I made my favorite Maangchi recipe—cheese buldak, or fire chicken with cheese—with halved tofu puffs instead of chicken breast.

Those two ingredients are obviously nothing alike, but the swap totally works thanks to the insanely powerful sauce. Red-hot both in color and spice level, surprisingly sweet, and with enough fresh ginger and garlic to put hair on your chest, it more than picks up the slack for something as bland as chicken breast or unseasoned tofu. Having made this dish with chicken dozens of times, I have to say—I prefer the puffs. Even when saturated with sauce, they stay light and puffy, which is the perfect contrast to the ultra-chewy texture of sliced rice cakes and melted mozzarella.

Pressed tofu does (most of) the prep work for you

As the name implies, pressed tofu has already been pressed to remove most of its moisture, resulting in a pleasantly toothsome texture. You can buy it pre-seasoned with soy sauce and five spice powder, but I like it plain so I can season it however I like.

Here, I whipped up a vaguely Spam-inspired mixture of roughly 2 tablespoons each of soy sauce and sugar, plus a teaspoon of garlic powder and a few shakes of smoky hot sauce (El Yucateco Black Label Reserve for life). I added some cubed pressed tofu and let everyone hang out about 20 minutes, flipping them around halfway through. You don’t need much marinade; a shallow layer is plenty.

I then used it to bulk up a super basic batch of fried rice with ginger, garlic, carrots, and frozen peas. The cubes got nicely crispy and charred on the edges, and were just what I needed to add some substance to a huge bowl of fried carbs.

Unseasoned pressed tofu also makes great vegan “paneer:” Cube it up and marinate in lemon juice with a few pinches of salt for 30 minutes, or longer if you have the time. As with regular paneer, you can pan-fry the tofu or leave it alone; either way, you’ll be surprised at how closely the marinated tofu mimics the texture and flavor of the real thing.

Medium-to-firm tofu needs a little TLC

This range of the tofu spectrum is the most recognizable and the least immediately appealing. I mean, just look at this:

In my experience, the variations between medium, firm, and extra-firm tofu are pretty meaningless, and I use them all interchangeably. Left uncooked, they all have a texture best described as “rubbery,” with no discernible flavor at all. Their highest calling is getting crispy in a hot skillet and doused in a flavorful sauce.

All you need to make crunchy pan-fried tofu is salt water, a good nonstick pan, and all of 20-30 minutes. That’s it. Here’s my usual procedure for a standard 1-pound block.

Before I do any other ingredient prep, I bring 2-3 cups of salted water and 2 teaspoons of table salt to a strong boil in a saucepan. Then I cut the heat, slide in my tofu, and let it sit while I prepare the rest of the recipe. After 15-20 minutes, I drain off the water and either pat the tofu dry on clean towels or leave it in the colander until I need it.

To get that crispy surface going, I coat my big cast-iron skillet with a thin layer of neutral oil and heat it over medium-high. I then add the tofu, spread it into an even layer, and leave it completely alone for at least 5 minutes.

Once the edges start to brown, I flip it over and do the same on the other side.

Boom. Done. Obviously, I used crumbled tofu here—it’s my favorite—but this works just as well with cubes, slabs, triangles, or any other shape you can dream up.

Don’t sleep on crumbled tofu

I know I said that tofu isn’t a meat substitute, but crispy tofu crumbles get really fucking close. In many cases, I prefer them to meat because they hold their shape—and a surprising amount of crunch—even when simmered for a long time. Sure, they don’t give you the specific richness you get with ground pork or beef, but with the right recipe you won’t miss it at all.

Speaking of the right recipe, Bon Appétit Test Kitchen director Chris Morocco’s spicy sweet sambal pork noodles are flawless—but, despite the name, I’ve actually never made them with meat. I only had tofu the first time I made them, and they turned out so well that I’m fine with never learning how they taste with pork.

I make the recipe exactly as written, except—obviously—I leave the pork out. Instead, I fry up soaked, crumbled firm tofu in a separate skillet while the sauce simmers, then dump ‘em in and toss everything together with cooked noodles. This cuts at least 30 minutes off the cook time without compromising on anything except porkiness, which I promise won’t even register.

You can also use tofu crumbles like ground beef. I usually throw in some minced onion and garlic in once the tofu is nice and crispy, then cook it down with a little tomato paste, taco seasoning, and cheap beer if I’ve got it.

It’s not beefy, exactly, but it tastes incredible in its own right—and makes a killer vegan-friendly crunchwrap filling.

You can roast tofu, too

Maybe you’d rather not spray your stovetop with oil in the name of crispy tofu. In that case, roasted tofu is for you. The results are directly comparable to pan-frying—they just take a little longer to get there.

Start with soaked, drained tofu, preferably cut into triangles or flat slabs so they’re easy to flip. Arrange on a clean towel and let them dry out while your oven preheats to 450ºF.

If you like, cut a vegetable of your choice into similarly-sized pieces and toss them with a tablespoon or two of neutral oil; I’m using kabocha squash here.

Place a sheet pan on the lowest oven rack. After about 3 minutes, add 2-3 tablespoons of neutral oil to the pan, put it back in the oven, and heat for another minute or two. Carefully transfer the tofu and vegetables to the hot oiled pan, return to the bottom rack, and roast for at least 20 minutes. Flip everything over and roast for another 15-20 minutes, until the tofu is super crispy on both sides and the vegetables are browned and soft.

You can eat the whole shebang straight off the pan—perhaps drizzled with spicy peanut sauce or chili oil—but I added mine to a quick curry made with Maesri panang curry paste, palm sugar, and coconut milk. (Maesri is the only brand I’ve found that doesn’t use shrimp paste or fish sauce; if you usually avoid prepared curry paste for allergy or vegan reasons, give it a try.)

To be completely honest, the kabocha was a miss—the flesh was too dry, and the skin was super tough. The crispy roasted tofu, however, slapped. They can’t all be bangers; such is the nature of experimentation.

When you feel ready, silken tofu is there for you

The next stop on our tour de tofu is the most controversial, misunderstood one yet: Soft or silken tofu. Yes, it’s bland. Unseasoned coagulated soy milk isn’t going to blow your mind with super-concentrated umami or whatever. But when prepared correctly, soft tofu is more than just delicious—it’s absolutely sublime. I will go to bat for it all day long, and I would love to tell you why.

The dish that changed my mind about silken tofu came from Biwa, a now-closed izakaya-style bar in Portland. It was deceptively simple: A whole block of chilled silken tofu drizzled with sweet soy sauce and topped with bias-cut scallions, fistfuls of toasted sesame seeds, and paper-thin bonito shavings. I ordered it every time, and my friends would always be like—“Cold tofu? Why?” But if I could convince them to take a bite, they’d understand. It was like eating a deeply savory panna cotta.

Unfortunately, my dearly departed Tofu Slab is no more—and my attempts to recreate it have been so unsuccessful that I’m forced to settle for the next best thing: Salt water-soaked silken tofu mounded on hot white rice and drowned in chili oil, soy sauce, and black vinegar.

I’m not complaining. The salt water, once again, is key: It turns a cold, slimy block of tofu into a piping-hot savory custard, which is the perfect canvas for condiments. Sure, there’s not much in the way of textural contrast, but the softness is so comforting and nice that I think a crunchy element would actually defeat the purpose. It’s a delicious, balanced, reasonably nutritious meal you can throw together in the time it takes to cook a pot of rice.

Putting it all together: All-tofu mapo tofu

Neglecting to mention mapo tofu in an article about tofu is basically journalistic malpractice. The iconic Sichuanese tofu dish is rich, meaty, spicy, funky, sour, and savory all at once—and slicked with lip-numbing Sichuan peppercorn oil for good measure. It’s a top 3 dish for me; I make it all the time, usually using Maggie Zhu’s recipe from the Omnivore’s Cookbook.

Being a big vegetable fan, I’ve experimented with using minced veg—eggplant, mushrooms, and even carrots—in place of the traditional ground meat. But this time, I decided to follow my vision and make a variant I’m calling “Oops! All Tofu.” I approached this recipe just like the sambal noodles, swapping crispy tofu crumbles in for the ground pork—but this time, I also soaked some cubed soft tofu in a fresh pot of salt water while the sauce simmered away.

This was one of the most delicious things I’ve ever made. The nubbins of soft tofu were literally melt-in-your-mouth tender, while the crispy crumbles turned downright meaty as they soaked up the spicy, salty, rich sauce. It made me even more certain of all of the (correct) tofu opinions I just laid out before you and, if you’ll let it, it has the power to convert you too.

Internet via Lifehacker https://bit.ly/2VwWgKq April 24, 2020 at 12:01PM

[monsterbaesbymamakennysaurus]

Monster Headcanons: Snow Leopard Shifter

Monster Headcanons: Snow Leopard Shifter Were!Leopard , Were!Snow Leopard x Reader: PS Reader, Plus size reader  

Snow Leopard Shifter Headcanons...

Typically lives in an extremely cold climate

Preferable at high altitudes- most likely a mountain, cliff area

During winter months, they may have a home a little closer to the base of the mountain. 

During the summer months, they tend to 'vacation' to higher altitudes where it is MUCH colder

Funny fact:  Doesn't actually have a roar

Usually comminicates in a series of chuffing sounds.  

Growls, hisses, mew and even wails are also acceptable. 

They more human counterpart tends to be someone who scoffs a lot 

They also tend to be on the shorter side rather than the popular tall genes of many of their other were!cousins

They are usually somewhere between 5'6" and 5'9"

Tend to be stock and very muscular- which is very useful for the mountainous terrain

Despite how thick and dense their fur is, they're not really too bad at shedding. 

They do it once in the summer time if they are near warmer temperatures for very long but often it stills as nice and thick as ever

Though their long furry tail does do a fair bit of shedding but as long as it's brushed, it's a fairly painless process

This creature's wild counterpart has enormous paws that are well suited to traveling through, and often on top of, snow. 

They're human side tends to have quite large hands and feet because of this. 

Also, because of their habitat you can expect this creature to bleed off heat like a roaring fire

Between their natural excelerated body temperature and their dense fur...you'll never be cold

They are not particularly known for being agressively towards human however they can be if you are new and in their territory

Especially if they have cubs

This creature is quite a shy creature and therefore a bit more of a hermit, lol

A bit of a homebody and needs a fair bit of a alone time

They definitely mark their territory

Now their more animalistic side may just straight up do the animal ways of things 

However, the human side of them will just make it very obvious that this place is taken and inhabitated by someone else

Now, if you are lucky enough to be loved by one of them, they'll make it obvious

I mean, they don't go out much but it will be known 

They're also the type to get your sentimental jewelry with the two of yous names or initials on it

This is also the person that will most definitely post pictures of you on their Instagram 

And damn sure be stalking yours and commenting, lol

They are crespusular creatures by nature but it really does all depend on their own needs. 

Expect their asses to be up at dawn busying about very productively for a few hours before slinking back to bed or the couch for a nap

Then when dusk approached they'll have another burst of energy 

It is not uncommon at all for a female were! snow leopard to have more than one father to her cubs as both males and females tend to enjoy their alone time

Some tend to be very independant and have a need for solitude until mating season

While some are very involved with their cubs

This is why there is a huge thing with Were!Snow Leopards of join custody parenting.   

It's more common for a couple just to mate and produce than to actually get married

Because of this female weres in particular may have more than one father to her cubs and this is totally acceptable in their culture

In large cities, they're tend to be more and one area but in smaller areas maybe a total of five spread out for several miles unless there just happens to be a whole line of them 

Sometimes, they are a bit of a pushover so if you end up in an argument with them, they may either shut down, walk away or give up.  They're not especially aggressive and sometimes, sadly, even if they are right they'd rather just not argue about it

However, it is worthy to note that if this habits you are dealing with a potential shut down from your were partner

They will often retreat back to their hideaways and go into solitary mode

So do approach this with caution 

Attacks against humans are pretty rare to be honest so legends of wereshifters of the snow leopard variety have been few and far between

In fact, if there is a spike in human population where a snow leopard were is they tend to become nocturnal creatures to avoid unnecessary conflict

It's a blessing that they can adapt but a curse that they will basically bend over backwards to avoid it

However, do not be so niave to think that you are not being watched if you find yourself a neigbor to one

Expect them to analyze the situation from a distance

They have the strongest stomach of all the weres and is known as the opportunistic predator

Meaning...they'll basically eat anything and they do not mind leftovers

They will most definitely the ones to hunt what's in season but also shop the bargain/out of season clearance rack at the store

They have absolutely no probably eating that pumpkin flavored pancake mix in June 

Or the coconut mixed drink in December

They don't give a fuck

They can also put it away- like damn

They can eat...and eat...and eat

When they cook, they cook a lot and they eat leftovers for days 

They tend to like to do their hunting and/or shopping alone since they have a system

They're very much the one that coupons

However, if they have a mate- they'll do this with them and it's not an issue

They prefer to buy in bulk - especially in meat- but will settle for smaller mark downs

1000% has a deep freezer in the basement to store all the noms and good deals

While they do tend to have a largely carnivorous diet, they are actually omnivores and will eat leafy greens and vegetables as well. 

Ok, so mating season. 

This usually falls between January - March though it can just vary from time to time and circumstances

Look, I'll just say this- when it's time- it's time

And they make it know

They put out this scent to others that let them know that they're in business so to speak, lol

The process/dating process/courtship is fucking long and complex

Shit takes forever

I mean, it's a whole thing

Increased calling which in more human modernized terms can just mean frequent texts or phone calls.  

Or perhaps even just physical visits or video calls. 

You'll just been seeing and hearing of them a lot

They also tend to have several visual displays

Do not be surprised if you end up with a house full of groceries or a warm cooked meal

Or just some things around your home that needed fixing turn up repaired

It's also not uncommon for them to be stuck to you like velcro during this time

They like and they want you to know

So during this time, they want to spend as much time as possible with you

They'll chill out and give you both the space you need eventually but they're just really into you right now

Now, while some were snow leopards can have more than one baby daddy so to speak- it's also not uncommon for them to mate for life as well

It really just depends on the were in question 

All I can say is that if you've gained the attention of this grumpy little recluse...watch out

Because they'll likely never leave you alone after that

You'll be their most precious treasure.

But you'll never go cold and hungry so who's the real winner here?

Hey, smoochies! I hope you enjoyed this piece of content and if ya did please be sure to let me know in the comments! If you’d like to read more of my work check out @littlemessyjessi! There you can find my masterlist for my works as well as my two other blogs for my witchy content @witchyweirdness and my monster blog @monsterbaesbymamakennysaurus !  Enjoy and Happy Reading!

Love, Mama Kennysaurus

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Love, Kenny

[needdl]

One Spawn at a Time (Part One)

“The baby was due in T-minus four weeks- not that Tenten was going to let that slow her down.”

and YES this has been up FFN and AO3 for a while but in my defense: whatever

Part One    Part Two

The light from the fire cast a warm glow over Neji’s features, softening them and gently casting the divets in his collarbone into shadow as Tenten nestled against his shoulder, clasping his hand in both of her own and tracing over his profile with her gaze. Hopefully Gai and Lee weren’t paying too close of attention to them, absorbed as they were in getting the chicken cooking over the campfire, because she knew her stare was undoubtedly sappy.

It couldn’t be helped- Neji had woken her from her (now daily) late afternoon nap with gentle kisses and soft touches, plus a snack, and she was feeling very fond of him at the moment.

And also very hungry. Hopefully dinner would be ready soon.

She knew Neji was still a little wary over camping right now, what with her due date being in a few weeks and all, but so far the experience had been nothing short of pleasant. Gai and Lee, normally very extreme in dragging Neji and Tenten into their exhausting physical activities, were more than happy to let Tenten stay in the hammock and read her book (aka nap) while they dragged Neji into white-water rafting or something.

It was a win-win, as far as Tenten was concerned, because she and Neji could go for walks in the mornings after breakfast while Lee and Gai did their own thing, then meet back up with them for lunch. Then they could all relax for a bit before the three men departed to go be manly in the woods (or something). Tenten would nap, wake up to eat a snack, and then be up and perky by the time they came back.

Today the three of them had gotten back a little early, but Neji had spent all the extra time cuddling her in their tent and getting her in a very agreeable and snuggly mood. She pretty much trailed him around the campsite after that, clinging to his arm.

Even when he was building up the fire, which probably was very annoying but he was smart enough not to say anything. Then he had to help her stand up from her awkward crouch on the ground.

Lee and Gai had volunteered to cook dinner, so Tenten immediately plastered herself against Neji’s side in Gai’s ugly two-person camping chair and hadn’t moved since. Every once in a while she tugged him down to kiss him. He seemed pretty all right with it, if his tiny smug smiles and gentle touches to her pregnant belly were anything to judge.

She was in such a good mood that she didn't even mind the touches, which normally made her roll her eyes and grouch a bit when anyone other than Neji did it.

(With Neji she bore it with more grace, given that he was like, the father of the baby and all that. Plus he knew she didn't much like it and limited his contact to non-invasive, short touches. Even so, she usually had to swallow her biting jibes- because Neji was sweet and thoughtful even though he was usually the unfair recipient of her bad moods and he deserved to feel their little spawn moving around if he wanted to.)

Neji wrapped his arm around her and brought his hand around to rest on the side of her tummy. She clasped her hand over his and held it there, smiling softly into the firelight as he dropped his head down to nuzzle her temple.

Lee studiously turned over a few pieces of chicken. “Almost ready!” He announced cheerfully. Gai, digging through the cooler in the car to get out the greens for their salad, cheered loudly in response. Tenten ignored them both, cupping Neji’s jaw in her hand and holding him in place while she kissed him thoroughly and admittedly, rather loudly.

“Please stop,” Lee said plaintively.

A week later (and one week closer to her due date), Tenten was feeling arguably the best she had felt for her entire pregnancy. Neji had helped her shave her legs that morning because she couldn’t reach them any more and he was the best husband in the world, plus a bunch of the baby clothes they’d ordered arrived and were waiting in a package on the doorstep when she got home from work.

She dragged it inside and ripped it open eagerly, then spent the next half an hour sitting in the foyer happily blubbering over the tiny socks and shirts and onesies and pants.

I’m going to have a baby, she thought joyfully to herself, and it’s going to be soft and fat and cute and my baby.

She paused to consider the mess around her, wiping at her eyes with the collar of her shirt. Neji would undoubtedly be anticipating opening the clothes just as much as she had, so she began to fold things back up and put them in the box for him to unveil. He probably wouldn’t cry as much as she had though.

She left the box on prominent display on the kitchen counter, then headed upstairs to change into maternity leggings and an oversized tee. (Bless maternity leggings, honestly.) It took her an embarrassing amount of time to get her maternity pantsuit off and the casual wear on, but hey, she was almost thirty-seven weeks pregnant. The whole “moving around” thing wasn’t easy.

She got back down to the kitchen to start on dinner and absently pulled her phone from her purse to find about ten billion texts from Neji checking to make sure she was home safely.

Oops. As she got closer to their due date Neji had gotten more and more tense about her safety, and it had become his norm to check on her at several key points throughout the day. If she didn’t respond promptly enough, she could practically feel his blood pressure rising.

Luckily he hadn’t called her yet, which always indicated peak worry. She sent a quick text confirming she was home, followed by ‘baby clothes came today! got distracted opening them. srry babe xoxo’

‘I see.’ He responded. ‘How do they look?’

‘so small and cute. it’s ridiculous.’

‘Well, babies are small and cute.’

‘omg u are truly a genius.’

‘Don’t be a smart ass.’

‘why? you gonna punish me? :3’

‘Don’t you make three-face at me.’

‘:3 :3 :3’

‘😑’

‘hehe ❤️❤️’

When no answer was forthcoming, she tucked her phone into the waistband of her leggings and moved into the kitchen to look at what food they had for dinner- but not before snagging a bag of chips and ripping it open as one of many early evening snacks.

After a moment spent contemplating their food options, Tenten started pulling out the things she needed to make xiao long bao. She’d cooked up the chicken-based (part of her always mourned the fact she couldn’t use fatty pork to make up a rich broth, but Neji didn’t eat red meat and she loved him so much that she would sacrifice it) soup broth the night before to use in the next few days, so now she just needed to make up the filling and her dough.

She made the filling first, with a chicken (sigh) and shrimp base. There was a moment that she spent looking at the Shaoxing wine and thinking longingly about having a cold beer on a hot day, but she overcame it and quickly used what she needed and put away the bottle. Better not to think of lost pastimes.

She was just about to start adding the hot water to her flour for the dough when she realized what an imminent mess she was about to make and paused to grab an apron.

Once upon a time, Tenten had one single dark navy apron that fit adequately and functioned well. Then she moved in with Neji, who was a disaster in the kitchen if his meals went beyond chopping up vegetables or using a rice cooker. They’d quickly learned that they needed several aprons, because they had to wash them quite a bit. (He was better at cooking now, thank goodness.)

Also, once upon a time Tenten hadn’t been pregnant and her aprons would go on and stay on with one quick loop and tie. Now it was a whole five minutes to get the damned thing on and tie it well enough to stay on.

The baby kicked at her ribs, seemingly catching her disgruntled train of thought and defiantly proving a point.

Making the dough was a labor-intensive and exhausting endeavor, and Tenten quickly immersed herself in kneading it into perfection.

She was concentrating so hard on the task that she didn’t even hear when Neji got home. He walked into the kitchen after she didn’t respond to his quiet greeting and froze, watching her rotund figure work at the dough.

After a moment, his eyes confirmed to him that yes, Tenten was barefoot, pregnant, and in the kitchen preparing dinner for her husband. Exactly the image she’d vehemently rejected in middle school and high school.

Tenten swore viciously in Mandarin at the dough. “WHY ARE YOU SO STICKY,” she demanded of it. The dough had no excuse for its behavior.

Neji’s soft chuckle caught Tenten’s attention, and she whirled around, startled. Upon seeing him standing there, her entire face lit up, and the resulting leap in his chest made it difficult for a few moments to concentrate on the excited speech she immediately launched in greeting.

He tuned in again in time to hear her say, “-and I’m just wrapping up with the dough and about to get the steamer ready, if you want to go get changed and then help me fold up the dumplings?”

“Very well. But first-” Neji set his briefcase on the counter and crossed over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her in for a kiss.

A few minutes later, he pulled away and met Tenten’s dazed eyes. “I’m home,” he told her.

She gazed up at him, looking starstruck, then let out a small, almost shy smile.  “Welcome back.”

Another week closer to her due date- it was just a few days away now- and Tenten was over it.

She was ready to have an actual baby to hold and to coo over and to urp on her and to cry all night- she wanted all of it, especially if it meant no longer being pregnant.

She sprawled out on the bed and glared up at the ceiling, absolutely furious over the mere concept of getting up and dressed and breakfasted and going to work.

“Neji,” she said plaintively, “I’m ready to have this baby.”

There was a loud clattering noise from the bathroom, and Neji called sharply, “What?”

She jerked a little at the frantic tone in his voice, then realized what she had said. “Oh-” She half-attempted to roll over a bit to look at him, but gave up fast. “I don’t mean I’m in labor! Just tired of being pregnant. Didn’t mean to make it sound like that, sorry.”

She could hear Neji exhale in a gust. “Ah.”

They were both quiet again for a minute, as Neji went back to shaving and she went back to doing her best impression of a beached whale (at least, that’s what it seemed like to her. She couldn’t even see over the swell of her belly into the bathroom.)

Neji cleared his throat in the silence. “Maybe you should take ma-”

“Nope.” She called back promptly.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“You were going to suggest, again, that I take an early maternity leave. I’m not taking maternity leave until I go into labor or a week after our due date.”

There was a soothing pitch to his voice when he next replied. “But wouldn’t it be easier? You hate sitting at your desk all day, you’d at least be able to get up and do other things-”

“I do laps around exhibits with the tour guides.”

“But you wouldn’t have to worry about going to work, you could just focus on resting up and prepping for the baby.”

It was tempting, and Tenten cupped her belly with her hand as she thought it over. There was a hopeful silence coming from the bathroom.

“Eh, nah,” Tenten decided. Neji let out a whoosh of air.

“Tennie-”

“Come over here and help me up,” she raised her arms in the air and flapped her hands at him.

He sighed again, and a few moments later she could see his head over the top of her tummy. He stopped at the end of the bed and frowned at her.

She let her hands fall down to rest at her sides on top of the bed covers. “Hey.”

“Hello.” He wasn’t wearing a shirt. Neither was she, actually.

After a few more seconds of staring at each other, Tenten got a crick in her neck from craning her head to see Neji. She let her skull thump back against the bed.

“So, you’re not going to help me up?”

“I like seeing you stuck on your back like a beetle.”

Tenten let out a loud, startled laugh. “What?!” Neji didn’t make jokes very often, and it always delighted her when he did.

She continued chortling as he smiled down at her, stepping closer to smooth his hand over the tight skin on her belly. He held out his other hand to her and she took it, allowing him to pull her into a sitting position.

She grinned up at him. “That was a good joke.”

“Thank you.”

Tenten leaned over and wrapped her arms around his waist, nestling her head against his stomach and humming happily as he put one arm over her shoulders and cradled her head in the other.

“I like you a lot,” she told him, her voice muffled by his skin.

“I like you too.”

“A lot?”

“Yes.”

“Cool.” She mused on it for a few moments, then said, “Then maybe we should get married and have a baby.”

She could hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll have to ask my wife if she’s okay with it.”

“She probably will be. She seems pretty cool. A total babe.”

His chuckle rumbled in his chest, and she fought back a shiver over the low pitch. “You have no idea,” he told her, smoothing a lock of hair over her back.

He pulled away a few moments later and she pouted. “You need to get ready for work,” he reminded her, looking regretful.

“Ugh, work.”

Neji raised his eyebrows and a keen look came over his eye. Tenten cut him off before he could say anything. “Just because I complain about it doesn’t mean I want to stay home!”

He sighed- he was always sighing, apparently he was too refined to roll his eyes- and was about to speak, so Tenten reached around him to grab his butt.

He choked off rather abruptly, eyes wide, and she grinned up at him. Her hands flexed as she dug her fingers in, enjoying herself immensely (Neji’s butt was unreal. And it was her goddamn right to touch her husband’s butt as much as her heart desired.) Neji stared blankly at the wall in front of him as his cheekbones pinked and Tenten gleefully kneaded away.

After a moment, she leaned over- both hands still gripping his ass- and mouthed at his abs. The muscles twitched, and when she glanced up at Neji’s face through her lashes he was clenching his jaw.

Slowly, she drew her hands around to his front and lightly scratched her nails down his abdomen. Just above the waistband of his slacks, she paused, fingers tracing along the edge, then pulled away.

Tenten stood up cheerfully. “Well, I guess I should get ready for work!” She walked into the bathroom and started closing it with great relish.

She caught a glimpse of Neji through the gap. He was standing still, back ramrod straight, and scowling at the wall.

Tenten grinned and closed the door with a sassy little snap.

The day of their due date, both Neji and Tenten spent their time in a haze, flurrying over any movements from the baby and staying up for the entire night “just in case.”

When dawn came and there hadn’t been a single contraction, they realized that maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea, because now they had to go to work. (And also what if the baby had actually come, or came the next day when they were sleep deprived? They had not thought that one through very well.)

Tenten just pitied anyone who had to interact with Neji that day, because the man got very grouchy without his beauty sleep.

Not that she was much better, but at least she had “imminent baby arrival” as an excuse.

Work was uneventful, which was a mixed blessing because it meant she didn’t have to do anything, but it also meant she didn’t have anything to do.

(It made sense and she’d fight anyone who said otherwise.)

Neji texted her constantly throughout the day, checking in on her and complaining about clients. They had a nice long phone conversation at lunch though, which perked up Tenten quite a bit and hopefully did the same for him.

Still, once quitting time rolled around and Tenten was faced with the option of leaving, she took it quite gleefully.

Rather than going straight home though, she took a little detour to Neji’s building in downtown Konoha and rode the elevator up to his office floor.

Udon looked up at her in slight surprise, but gave her a polite smile. “Hello, Huang-hakase.”

“Hi Udon-san. Tenten-san is fine,” she reminded him. “Is Neji busy right now?”

“Nope, he’s clear for the rest of the day.”

Tenten stopped to lean against the reception desk, propping one hand on her lower back. “Was he in a bad mood today?”

“Er-” Udon had the grace to look a little uncomfortable at gossiping about one of his coworkers, even if it was with said coworker’s wife. “Well, he wasn’t in a great mood, but it’s not like he took it out on anyone, really, except maybe Hatake-bucho, and he usually kind of deserves it...”

Tenten grinned. “Sounds about right. Is it okay if I head in, then?”

“Sure, Huang-ha- er, Tenten-san. Would you like me to notify him at all?”

“Nah, we’ll see how snippy he gets before he realizes it’s me.” She waved to Udon over her shoulder and waddled over to Neji’s office, knocking once before busting the door open.

He was sitting at his desk and scowling, eyes on the computer monitor and pen in hand over some documents. At the sound of the door opening his jaw clenched and he snapped, “What.”

She snorted and closed the door behind her. “So it was that kind of a day.”

He jerked his head up and stared at her in surprise. “Tenten.”

“Yep.” She crossed the room and grabbed one of the chairs in front of his desk, then swung it around to sit next to him. “Teach us to not adhere to our sleep schedule, huh?”

“An unfortunate time for such a realization, given that we are due for a baby any day now.”

She gave him a wry grin and leaned in to kiss him briefly. “Well, I got off a little early today and figured I’d stop by. How were your clients from hell?”

“I’ve had worse, but they were… quite obtuse.”

She leaned back in her chair, linking their fingers together and smiling up at him. “I’m all ears, love.”

Four days after their due date and they were all ready for the baby to be born, including said baby. It had been doing somersaults for a few days and kicking up a storm, and while Tenten loved her little dumpling she was ready for the dumpling not do that anymore while she was trying to sleep.

Her obstetrician had recommended sex as ye old standby for inducing labor, so they’d been having a fun time with that, at least.

In fact, they’d spent the entire weekend, uh, trying to induce labor.

But as Sunday drew to a close and there was still no baby in sight, Tenten’s frustration reached its all time high. She had a rage-filled crying session in her bath that night, furious over the fact that she was unwieldy and had swollen ankles and stretch marks and she couldn’t always hold it in completely when she had to use the bathroom and her boobs were sore and she got shooting pains up her back and she didn’t even fucking have her baby yet, the only reason she went through all of this in the first place.

Tenten scrubbed at her eyes, upset with herself for even succumbing to her frustrations. She could hear Neji quietly moving around in their bedroom outside the bathroom door and made an effort to be as silent as possible, not wanting to tip him off and worry him even more.

After a few minutes of calming down, she grabbed her body wash off the rim of the tub and soaped herself up, then rinsed off and started draining the tub. She did feel better now.

Tenten went into labor a little after 11:00PM that very night.

[let-it-raines]

Frozen Peas (1/2)

Summary: Emma Swan and Killian Jones are not coworkers. Okay, they kind of are. Emma Swan and Killian Jones are not friends either. Okay, maybe they kind of are. Honestly, Emma’s not sure what’s up and what’s down when it comes to Killian Jones...well, that’s also not true. She knows one thing that’s up.

Rating: Mature (it’s cocktoberfest peeps)

A/N: Hey all! Here’s part one of my contribution to @cscocktoberfest! I wrote this about a month ago before I’d really gotten into a good rhythm (pun always intended with me) with my smut writing, but I hope that it’s still a good time. I’m posting a bit early because I don’t know when I’ll get a chance to later since I have a late night at work. So have a very pleasurable time reading.

Read on ao3 | here |

Usual tag list (let me know if you want to be tagged for part two which will post a week from today): @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @ekr032-blog-blog @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @bmbbcs4evr @wellhellotragic @profdanglaisstuff @mayquita @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91

“Can you pass the peas, love?”

 “Killian, they’re literally right in front of you.”

 He seems shocked by that, only to look down and see that the peas are, indeed, sitting in the serving dish right between the two of them on David and Mary Margaret’s dining room table. Mary Margaret makes these damn peas for every single one of these dinners, and Killian is the only person who likes them. What Emma would give for another vegetable to be served at one of these dinners. She doesn’t even like vegetables, but she’d learn to love them for anything other than these goddamn peas.

 She seems to be a little too passionate about the peas.

“So how is being coworkers treating the two of you lately?” David asks before shoveling an entire roll in his mouth. Classy.

 “We’re not coworkers.”

 “Bloody fantastic.”

 Emma Swan and Killian Jones are not coworkers. Not technically. Killian is a detective at the precinct where Emma likes to bring in the skips she catches as a bail bondsperson/ bounty hunter / whatever the hell you want to call her nobody ever gets it right anyways. They’re more efficient than any other precinct, and they have the best coffee. She would know. She’s tried them all out after her years of working in Boston, and even if her hours can be hectic, she wouldn’t trade the freedom the job gives her to make her own schedule. Plus, it’s not like she’s really qualified to do anything else – GED received in jail while serving time for a crime you didn’t commit doesn’t exactly scream hire me.

 So while Emma Swan and Killian Jones do, in a roundabout way, work together, they’re not coworkers. She only really knows Killian through her adoptive brother David because the two men were once roommates. And through these blasted weekly dinners at David and Mary Margaret’s that Mary Margaret insists upon as a way to make sure Emma eats a good meal every now and then without Emma knowing that her brother’s wife is coddling her. Emma totally knows, but sometimes you have to pretend to make the ones you love feel better about themselves by playing along.

 It’s always been the three of them. Well, four if you count Killian, and sometimes the occasional new person attending when Mary Margaret finds someone else who she thinks needs a little extra care. Mary Margaret is always insisting that Emma can bring someone if she’d like, but it’s definitely not the place to bring a date if you want them to go out with you again. Emma’s never brought anyone, and she definitely doesn’t plan on changing that. Not that she really dates, not anymore. Not after Neal and the frame job and the jail time and all the other crap she’s ever been through. It’s been a long time since she’s even thought of wanting anything serious, past scars still bright red against her skin, so it’s not like she’s going out and finding nice guys who wear khaki pants and call their mom at least twice a week just to chat.

 She prefers black leather.

 “I feel like,” David continues in his pleasant dinner conversational tone, “the two of you would be fantastic crime fighting partners.”

 “I feel like it’s a good thing that we’re not.”

 “Aye, Swan and I here never agree on anything. Did you know she doesn’t like peas, Dave? Preposterous.”

 And so goes almost every one of their dinners.

 Three days later Emma’s walking into one of her usual bars to catch this scumbag of a guy who skipped out on his bail, leaving his wife out of money and out of a husband. Of course, that last part is a blessing in a not so good disguise because if she’s got a husband who will commit a crime, skip out on bail, and then proceed to go on a Tinder date with Emma, the woman would catch a break leaving the guy.

 Catching him is easier than it should be, but that tends to happen when she slides into a skin-tight dress that leaves nothing to the imagination, boobs pushed up so that they’re almost unnaturally high as they practically spill out of the fabric. It’s sad, but men are simple. Give them something to look at, particularly a pair of tits, and they’ll practically be putty in your hands.

 When she walks into Killian’s precinct, he’s the only officer in the bullpen, and even if it’s not his job to process the guys she brings in, he’ll do it anyways if it’s a slow night.

 Tonight seems to be a slow night.

 After her guy is put away and Killian is back at his desk going through what looks like a stack of hella boring paperwork, she fixes both of them a cup of coffee before saddling over there to prop herself up on the corner of the wood of his desk.

 “You know, Swan,” Killian grins, not bothering to look up at her yet, smooth British accent practically rolling off his tongue as her coffee rolls down hers, “this is my favorite of your dresses. It fits you quite well.”

 She just rolls her eyes, used to his incessant flirting when she comes in. “Is it now?” she teases, knowing that he’s having a difficult time not perusing her body with his gaze. Like she said earlier, give a man something to look at, particularly a pair of tits, and they’ll practically be putty in your hands.

 “Mmmm,” he mumbles, hand finding its way to the bare skin of her calf, a shiver running through her entire body that she struggles to not make obvious because damn that feels good, “you know that I love a woman in red.”

 His hand continues to inch up her calf until it finds itself resting on the inside of her left thigh, fingers tracing a pattern that she can’t make out, but he might as well be burning the patterns of his fingertips into her skin. “I get off in an hour, darling,” he whispers against her skin, having leaned down to kiss her leg, tongue running against the twitching muscle there. She has to hold back a whimper. His breath is warm and soft against her thigh, and the heat she feels from it pools at the apex of her thighs without her permission. “Would you like to wait here or meet me at my place?”

 “What makes you think I’m going to go home with you?”

 Killian just raises an eyebrow, indignant look on his face like she could ever have any other plans than going home with him. She wasn’t lying earlier when she said this precinct had the best coffee and was the most efficient. Those are both truthful statements. But there were definitely some things that she left out. Most of all the fact that every time she comes in with someone who’s missed their trial, she leaves with a certain detective with unruly dark hair and blue eyes that fill your dreams.

 But not her. She doesn’t dream of his eyes. Definitely not.

 She might be a liar.

 It’s probably a good thing she’s not a cop.

 “The blush gracing your chest is a pretty good indicator.”

 He looks so smug, arms crossed in a way that make his muscles flex under his sweater and a cheeky grin on his face that just screams you’re coming home with me and we both know it.

 He’s always telling her he’s a gentleman. Gentleman, my ass, she thinks.

 “You’re too damn confident for your own good, Jones.”

 “I thought you liked that about me.”

 “Eh,” Emma shrugs, hopping down from her spot on the desk, heels clacking against the tile floor, before leaning down to whisper in his ear, pressing a kiss right behind his lobe before she speaks, “you’re okay, but you can feel free to take me home with you when you get off…and then maybe you’ll get off.”

 She tries to keep a straight face when she makes the joke, voice low as her lips brush against his skin, but he has a way of keeping her off-kilter, so she can’t help it when she giggles after making the joke. That giggle turns into a moan when he palms her ass, squeezing the firm skin there, before slapping it and pushing her on her way out the door.

 When she walks away, she turns back to see him sitting there with some kind of fuck-struck look on his face, tongue running across his bottom lip as he watches her sway her hips with her steps.

 He can do wonderful things with that tongue, and her heartbeat quickens at the thought of it. She’s sure the man can hear it from across the room.

 By the time the hour passes and Killian’s shift finishes, her body has calmed down a bit, the anticipation the only thing that’s kept her antsy as she scrolls through her phone in the precinct lobby. Before she knows it, Killian is walking through the glass double doors, leather jacket draped over the black of his sweater that she loves.

 Woah. That she loves? Even if she’s just talking about a sweater that may be taking it too far. No, definitely taking it too far…right?

 “You ready to go, love?”

 She doesn’t say anything, just gets up from her spot on the couch and leads him out the door, the night sky an inky black mixed in with the streetlights and neon signs of downtown, to where she knows his car is parked. He’s got his hand pressing against the small of her back, warmth permeating through the fabric of her dress as his fingers slowly reach down to cup the top of her ass.

 She thinks they’ll have a silent ride to his apartment, but as soon as they’re both in the car he’s on her, lips crashing against her so roughly that their teeth clang against each other, painful if not for the pang of desire that runs straight to her core when his tongue forces its way to the inside of her mouth.

 When he kisses her like this, she thinks she might melt. His tongue is hot against hers, a slick slide that has her practically writhing out her skin. Killian anchors his hand into her hair so that he can tilt her head to deepen the kiss, his tongue plunging further into the depths of her mouth. It feels so fucking good, like pure liquid pleasure, that she thinks she never wants this to stop. She never wants him to stop.

 But they’re in public.

 “Killian,” she moans into his mouth, biting his bottom lip when his fingers run over her nipple through the fabric of her dress, frustration building in her at the lack of skin to skin contact until he pulls the fabric down, exposing her to him, another rush of desire already coursing through her before he even touches her. He just hums in appreciation, rolling the nipple between his thumb and his index finger as he kisses her jaw and down her neck, paying special attention to flick his tongue just behind her earlobe, a thing she’s relished ever since he figured that out.

 “Killian,” she repeats, rolling her head back to give him more access to her despite her protests. She can’t help but shiver at his ministrations, her body tingling with all of the attention it’s being paid. “We need to go to your apartment. We can’t –” she gasps, breath hitching when he sinks his teeth into her collarbone, “ – we can’t do this here.”

 She thinks that maybe he won’t stop, that he’ll risk being caught in the parking garage right next to the station, but then he pulls back from her, running his thumb across the apple of her cheek in a move that’s far too sweet for what he was just doing to her.

  “I’ve just missed you, darling.”

 His breath is deep and heavy, so much like in the aftermath of his orgasm, and just the thought of him spilling himself into her has her squeezing her thighs together in search of the friction he’s not giving her.

“You saw me three days ago.”

 “In which I sat a respectable distance away from you and refrained from ogling your ass in those delightful jeans because you don’t want your brother to know that sometimes we, how do you say, fuck each other’s brains out.”

 She slaps his chest, more forceful than she intends to, but he can handle it. He likes when she’s forceful. “Do you want him to know?”

 “If it means I can kiss you in public then yeah.”

 She doesn’t want to have this conversation right now. They’ve had it one or two times too many before, and she’s not in the mood to think about her emotions and feelings right now. She’s in the mood for him to take her up against the inside of his front door, thrusting inside of her with a force that’ll leave her sore for days, because it’s almost painful how much she wants him right now, and she doesn’t think she can even make it back to his bedroom.

 They’re not dating, not officially. It’s just sex. Well, that’s not entirely true. It started as just sex, but when does that ever work out?

 They’d known each other since Emma was nineteen and went to visit David in college. David had lived with random roommates for two years, but he met Killian in a United States History class, the irony not lost on the Brit, sophomore year and found an apartment with he and another guy their junior year of college. Every time Emma had some time off or was between jobs – she jumped around work frequently when she was younger, never really wanting to settle on anything after being literally confined – she’d make the hour drive to stay with David for a few days. Except staying with David also meant staying with Killian, and the man made her feel off balance, obvious innuendos and flirtations spilling from his lips without hesitation...at least, most of the time.

 “Swan,” he greets, mouth ticking up on one side as he leans against the door frame, not opening the door enough for her to see inside the apartment, “fancy seeing you here, lass.”

 “Jones,” she tries to peak around him, but he’s too tall for her to see past, “It’s fucking cold. Can I come in?”

 “What’s the magic word?”

 She is going to murder him and bury him in the snow.

 “Please,” she grits out, trying not to grind her teeth.

 “That wasn’t the word, but it’ll do.” He finally swings the door open, revealing the cleanest apartment ever inhabited by three guys in college in the history of the world.

 “Where’s David?”

 “He’s on a date. I imagine he won’t be back until the morning.”

 “Shit. I’m just going to go then and come back tomorrow.”

 She’s already walking out the door, bag thrown over her shoulder, when Killian grabs her wrist, pulling her back so that she doesn’t immediately walk out the door. With his free hand he reaches up to scratch behind his ear before speaking. “Stay.” A pause as he contemplates his next words. “Stay with me. I’ve got some episodes of The Office recorded and a pizza on the way. It’d be ridiculous for you to go home this late, especially with the weather being like it is. You can sleep in David’s room.”

 “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

 “Why ever not?”

 “David’s not here, and I barely know you.”

 “The name’s Killian Jones, age twenty one, criminal justice major. I have one older brother. I like comedy shows, the European kind of football, rum, and just regular old pepperoni pizza. That’s what we’re having tonight. But what’d I’d like most of all is to get to know Emma Swan.”

 He’s got a goofy grin on his face, and she refuses to think that he’s cute.

 “Emma Swan,” she says after dropping her backpack and putting out her hand to greet a man she’s sort of known for months now, “age nineteen, I practice actual criminal justice in a roundabout way. I have one older brother. I like comedy shows, no kind of football, rum but more often whiskey, and just regular old pepperoni pizza so I hope you have enough of it tonight.”

 “So you’re staying?”

 “I’ll stay.”

 The two of them end up watching those Office recordings while stuffing their mouths with pizza. Killian had ordered two boxes, and she can’t help but wonder how someone as fit as him was planning on eating all of that himself. She doesn’t ask him, though, not sure she really wants to know the answer, and focuses on watching Jim and Pam dance around each other.

 “Do you think you could do that?” she asks, waving her slice of pizza at the TV.

 “Do what?”

“Pine after someone you see all the time even though she’s kind of unavailable?”

 “I think I’d do anything to keep the girl I like around, even if it kills me.”

 But it wasn’t when they met that this whole thing started. If she had been sleeping with one man for almost ten years, she would expect it to be something a little different than fucking in bar bathrooms and late nights after they both get off of work, slipping away from the crowds and slipping into each other. No, that had only been going on for two years, so it was something else entirely. Because two years isn’t a big deal, right?

 And if it doesn’t just happen in bar bathrooms and late nights, that’s not a big deal either, right?

 It was David’s twenty-eighth birthday when it all happened for the first time, and Mary Margaret insisted that they all go out to celebrate. The woman was as pure as the driven snow, but she always sat around happily taking care of everyone else when they got a little too heavy handed with their poison of choice.

 “Fancy seeing you here, Swan.” Emma was at the bar getting a round of beer for David and the rest of the guys at the table, having offered to get away from one of David’s coworkers, Walsh, who was creeping her the fuck out with his wandering eyes and even more freely wandering hand. So she was happy to get some air, only to come in contact with the man who could out flirt any of the guys at the table.

 “Jones,” she begins, turning to see that he is right there, blue eyes only inches from her own. Talk about a lack of personal space. She could practically feel his chest against hers. “It’s my brother’s birthday. Where else would you expect me to be?”

 “Maybe with that boyfriend of yours.”

 Was he jealous? No, he couldn’t be. That was ridiculous. They were friends, and even that was pushing it, who only saw each other when around David. But the tone of his voice, harsher than normal, surprised her, as well as the clench of his jaw. Frankly, it was kind of hot the way the sharpness of his jaw intensified with the apparent irritation simmering below the surface.

 “Not that it’s any of your business,” the bartender placed the beers she’d asked for minutes ago in front of her, “but we broke up.”

 He studies her for a moment, eyes quickly flickering down to look at her dress before focusing his attention on her eyes. It was so quick most people wouldn’t notice, but Emma did.

 “Ah, you were too much woman for him then, love?”

 She laughs at that, bitterness that she’s tried to keep under wraps seeping through. “No, not enough apparently. Not enough that he had to go find another woman to fuck while I was busy working.”

 She knows that if she looks up at Killian, his face will show pity. They all do, and she’s stopped talking about her last boyfriend just to avoid seeing that face on people. She hates it almost as much as the fact that she’s been betrayed by men one too many times.

 Emma doesn’t get the chance to look up, though, because suddenly the lack of personal space between she and Killian has diminished further, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear as he whispers, “would you like to have a chance to show just how much of a woman you are?”

 She has to fight the shiver that threatens to run through her, heat pooling deep in her belly, because fuck. Killian has always flirted with her but never like that. That was direct and arousing, the heat of his breath causing the hairs of her neck to stand at attention, and suddenly she can’t help but think about what it would be like for him to have her pressed up against the storage room wall as he pounds into her with abandon.

 Except that’s her brother’s best friend she’s thinking about, and while David is a healthy man, that might make his heart give out.

 “Please,” Emma rolls her eyes, tilting her head back to get some space between the two of them so that she can breathe, “you couldn’t handle it.”

 Killian taps his finger against his lips, both in invitation and in contemplation. “Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

 She’s going to pounce on him then, the alcohol and the lust running through her veins at lightening speed, but as soon as her fingers are carding through his hair, a groan already rumbling through his chest at the contact, her lips a hairsbreadth away from his, she hears David talking to her.

 “Emma, what’s taking you so –” The two of them spring apart from each other, bodies crashing into the people around them to try to get some space. “ – what’s going on here? Killian, when did you get here?”

 Her breathing is too labored to answer, still trying to catch her breath as her mind whirls about what just happened – or what almost happened – so she’s thankful that Killian is quicker on his feet. “Just got here a few minutes ago, Dave.” He moves to put his arm around Emma’s waist, a move that is pushing his luck even if she was about to very willingly stick her tongue down his throat. “Saw our Emma here at the bar and figured I’d catch up on what’s new with her before joining everyone else.”

 David seems to be placated with the answer, both of them plastering smiles on their faces like the damn Cheshire Cat. Killian’s hand has managed to find its way to the bare skin exposed by the cut out of her dress, the light touch against her skin a sensation that’s in the torturous place between not enough and just right. He’s obviously decided that he’s going to drive her wild tonight, whether that be in his normal way or in a new way that she’s suddenly desperate for.

 Throughout the rest of the night, Walsh still continues to ogle her with his eyes, but his unwelcome hands stay far away. Instead replaced by Killian’s surprisingly more welcome ones. He’s constantly touching her, driving her insane in anticipation of something she’s not really sure is even happening yet. He makes it look friendly to the rest of the table, an arm over her shoulder, fingers playing with the tips of her hair as he tells a story about some idiot who he arrested, or whispering in her ear just because it’s difficult to hear over the music playing through the speakers. But under the table his hand finds its way to her bare thigh, slowly inching its way up so that it rests just under her skirt. But it never goes further, just a continuous repetition of his hand moving from the underside of her knee to the top of her thigh. On top of that, the things he’s whispering in her ear, while to those around them may seem friendly, are most definitely not. They’re dirty little things about what he’d like to do to her later, the explicitness rising with every glass of rum he consumes. By the time it’s two in the morning and everyone is getting ready to leave, she’s desperate to relive the tension that’s built up. She’s desperate to get some friction, and she’s desperate for her brother’s best friend to be the guy who does it.

 It’s not her brightest idea, far from it actually, but when Killian offers to share a cab with her, she doesn’t hesitate, sliding into the backseat and only telling the driver one address.

 Killian doesn’t make another move while they’re in the cab, and suddenly Emma’s rethinking everything that’s happened so far that night. There’s no way she could have misread the signs, she’s sure of it. The man literally told her that he wants her to ride him later, and he sure as hell didn’t mean just sharing a cab. But it’s like Killian is suddenly further away from her than he’s ever been before.

 “Calm down, Swan,” he speaks suddenly, reaching over to grab her knee, pad of his thumb moving back and forth over her skin. “I just don’t want to do anything untoward with the driver right there.” He leans toward her, lips against her ear again and spiced rum scented breath against her skin. “I still bloody want you.”

 The words may have been used to calm her, but her breath hitches before her heart begins beating at a rapid pace, almost like it’s going to beat right out of her chest.

 When they get to her apartment, Killian climbs out of the cab, grabbing her hand to pull her along with him as he leans forward to swipe his card through the reader. No further words are spoken between the two of them as Emma leads him up to her apartment, suddenly wishing there was an elevator instead of several flights of stairs. Killian just follows along, hands somehow always touching her, but never in the way that she wants them to.

 That changes when she unlocks her door, taking the key out of the knob and not even having both feet inside the threshold before Killian is pushing her inside and pushing her back into the front door, slamming it shut with the force of his body against hers. Killian swallows her gasp with his lips, mouth plundering her own with an intensity that she should have expected but never could have prepared for.

 Fuck, he’s a good kisser. He tastes like the rum she smelled on his breath earlier, and even though it’s not possible she feels like she could get drunk off of it, off of him.

 Emma wraps her arms around his neck and tilts her head to the side so that the kiss can grow deeper, her tongue edging into Killian’s mouth as his makes its way further into hers, hips pressing against each other in a slow grind as their mouths move quickly. She’s always thought he was attractive, there’s no way she couldn’t, but as his beard rubs marks into her skin while he kisses her, the roughness of it a welcome burn against the softness of his lips, she wonders how she was always so unaffected by the piercing eyes and stubble covered cheeks and the flirtatious come ons that accompanied him.

 Maybe she never was.

 “Gods, Emma, darling,” he groans, pulling back to run his lips down her neck as he pushes his hips further into hers, the feeling of how much he wants her pushing up against her stomach through the material of his jeans. It feels so goddamn good. If she wasn’t absolutely desperate for him before, just a touch of his hardness has her belly filling with a longing she almost can’t stomach.  “You,” kiss behind her earlobe, tongue wetly dragged around the shell, “are,” bite at her pulse point, “the,” tongue dragged painstaking slow along her throat, “most,” hot, open mouthed kisses at the juncture between her neck and her shoulder, “beautiful,” a kiss at her collarbone, “woman,” a kiss against her lips, mouth moving slowly before he sucks her bottom lip into his mouth, “I’ve ever seen.”

 The way he’s working her up almost has her miss the compliment he’s paying her, but only almost, and she’s not here for emotions tonight. So she snakes her hand down between their bodies, the hard lines of him, quintessentially and wonderfully male, pressed up against the softer lines of her, until she can grab his cock through his jeans, making Killian release her lips as he tilts his head back in a guttural groan that almost has her come right there.

 That would possibly be the most disappointing orgasm of her life.

 “Would you,” Emma begins, running her hands up his torso to slip underneath his black jacket, pushing it off his shoulders as she runs her own set of open-mouthed kisses on the side of his jaw, “like to continue talking or move on to some more enjoyable activities?”

 “The enjoyable activities, definitely,” he tells her, crooked smile on his lips as he reaches around to find the zipper on the back of her dress, tugging it down until the straps fall off her shoulders, exposing the tops of her nipples to the coolness of the air conditioning and the heat of Killian’s gaze. “Though I must tell you that you should wear this dress more often. I quite fancy taking it off of you.”

 At that he leans down, taking one pink bud into his mouth, nosing down the material of her dress until it’s firmly in his mouth as he rubs her other nipple to its peak with his thumb and his pointer finger. It feels so damn good, the sensations traveling through her entire body. “Oh,” she gasps, shocked when he harshly clamps down, body moving back to rest against the wood of the door so that her legs don’t fall out beneath her.  He’s a mixture of pleasure and pain, and she’s not sure which she wants more.

  “You think you’ll be good enough for me to let you do this again?”

 He stops his ministrations then, his mouth making a popping noise when he releases her, so that he can raise a singular eyebrow at her, look of challenge evident on his face. “I know it, darling.”

 His mouth moves to her other breast, and she can do nothing but run her fingers through his hair and yank him further into her as she arches her back, his sucking becoming more insistent the harder she pulls at him. “Your breasts are fucking gorgeous, love,” he moans against her skin, the vibrations shooting heat to her core. She is almost uncomfortably wet. “I could stay buried in them all day.”

 “Fuck, Killian,” she gasps as his tongue circles her nipple, already so sensitive to the touch from the way he’s working her up, “I can think of somewhere else you’d much rather be buried in.”

 It sounds a bit like a joke about a funeral, but can you really blame her when she’s so turned on she’s surprised she can even remember the English language?  

 At that, her back is no longer against the door. Instead she’s being thrown over Killian’s shoulder, his strength surprising, as he carries her down the hallway like he knows where the bedroom is.

  He smacks her on the ass when she protests being carried, and she finally decides she wants both the pleasure and the pain.

 In minutes the rest of her dress is shed and his jeans are in the corner of her room, boxers and t-shirt following closely behind it. Killian’s mouth never leaves hers, only moving away for air or to maneuver them back against the mattress, his breath heavy as he kisses down her stomach, holding her down from pushing up into him by the weight of his forearm.

 For as impatient as he’s been, or maybe that was her, he sure is taking his sweet time teasing her, nipping at her thighs and her hips, close but nowhere near where she wants him. He’s trying to drive her fucking crazy. So like before, she reaches down between them, pulling him up until she can grab onto his rather impressive length, twisting it harshly until his eyes snap to hers, the usual blue now blown black with desire.

 “Killian Jones,” Emma grits out, now tracing along the vein on his underside with her forefinger, tampering down the sudden urge to lick a stripe up that same vein, “if you do not get a condom out of the drawer and fuck me within the next sixty seconds I’ll – ”

 “You’ll?” he interrupts, raising that damn eyebrow again as he crawls above her to grab the foil package, his rigid hardness brushing against her folds (fuck that feels good) as he leans over her, carefully ripping it open before rolling it down himself.

 “Just get inside me please.”

 She’s begging, and she doesn’t even care.

 “As you wish.”

 At that, he lines himself up to her, coating his tip with the wetness of her folds, a continual teasing despite her almost threat that has her back arching off the bed, before pushing into her in one quick motion, the shock of the sudden fullness causing all of the air to rush out of Emma.

 It feels fucking amazing.

 “You okay?” he asks, looking down at her with eyes full of more concern than he has any right to, completely still inside of her when all she wants is for him to move and fuck her into the mattress and into a state of oblivion.

 “I’d be better if you’d move,” she whines, lifting her hips up as she pulls his lips down to hers, needing him to shut up while also feeling something to soothe the ache that’s definitely painful now at being so close to getting what she wants.

 He’s a good listener, she’s always known that despite their casual friendship, and he’s a good listener here, pulling out slowly, her walls already fluttering at the movement, only to quickly thrust back in, a rapid pace that’s not quite rapid enough.

 “Faster,” she tells him, moving her legs to wrap around his ass, causing him to sink deeper inside, a pleasure that’s driving her insane in the most delicious of ways. He listens yet again, promptly pumping himself into her heat at a furious pace that she wants him to keep doing for as long as possible. He keeps going like that before lifting her right leg over his shoulder, and oh my god.

 “Oh fuck,” she moans at the same time Killian mumbles a “bloody hell,” moving to interlace the fingers of their left hands above her head as he continues thrusting into her, his pulsing cock dragging against her walls.

 He’s a bit of a talker during sex, moaning and grunting different versions “you feel so fucking good around me, darling” or “you like that, love” when he angles his hips a certain way and a gasp racks her entire body and her pulse echoes in her ears when he gets into a perfect rhythm.

 She thinks she might die, though, when he lets go of her hand and grabs onto her hips to steady himself, continuously bottoming out before slowly, torturously sliding out of her and then slamming back in. “You’re a bloody siren, Emma. I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted you, but I’m sure you can feel it.” He slams into her then, changing the pace before slowly pulling out. “And then I saw you at the bar tonight, that sinful red painted on your lips while those glorious tits I’ve got a newfound appreciation for practically spilled out of the dress. You’re a marvel, really. A marvel who’s driven me to madness with how much I’ve wanted...ah fuck, that’s good.”

 Is she panting? Oh god, she’s panting. Killian runs his tongue across his bottom lip as he stares down at her, and it makes her squirm beneath him until his grip tightens on her hip and her thigh to hold her steady.

 She knows he must be verging on getting close when he slows down, releasing her right hip so that he can touch where they’re joined, rubbing at her clit in fast hard motions that have her heart beating faster than she thinks it ever has before. With her encouragement he begins to move more quickly, both his cock and his hand, and as her walls start to flutter, an orgasm fast approaching as her entire body turns into jelly, he just fucks her through it, not slowing down until he joins her in that bliss that blocks out all of your problems for just a moment of pure pleasure.

 Emma’s just lying in the bed, sated and ready to fall into a slumber when Killian pulls out of her, the sensation against her sensitive core causing her to whimper, making his way over to the trash bin to dispose of the condom. It’s only when he settles back down onto the bed, shifting the mattress, that she opens her eyes to the reality of what they’ve just done.

 “Oh fuck.”

 “I believe that’s what we just did, love.”

 “No, fuck, Killian,” she repeats, sitting up and getting out of the bed to pace back and forth, remembering to go pee in the middle of one of her strides. When she comes back to the bedroom, Killian’s still sitting in her bed, arms crossed and rested behind his head, not a stitch of clothing on. Now that she knows exactly where his chest hair leads she may never be able to look at it without thinking of how he feels inside of her. “We just, you know, did that, and we sure as hell shouldn’t have done that.”

 She’s freaking out, and he’s as calm as she’s ever seen him. The bastard has the audacity to smile. “Did you not have a good time? Because I was getting the impression that you –”

 She doesn’t let him finish, slapping him on the chest with every bit of force that she intended.

 “Killian,” Emma pleads, ruffling through a draw to find a t-shirt to wear after suddenly feeling modest, the realization that she’s still on full display to him coming to her as his eyes watch her breasts as she talks, “you and I cannot be a one-night stand. We see each other all the damn time. You’re David’s best friend, and even though it’s none of his business what you and I do, he’ll care that you fucked his sister.”

 “So we don’t tell him.”

 “We don’t tell anyone.”

 “Swan,” Killian placates, getting up from his spot on the bed to slip his boxers back on, finally covering himself up so that she doesn’t have to stare at…everything while they have this conversation, “calm down. No one has to know. And as much as I’d like a repeat performance because you are bloody wonderful, I assure you, I can go on pretending like this never happened if that’s what you want. I don’t want anything that you don’t.”

 So they go on pretending like it never happened, Killian sleeping on her couch that night because she couldn’t be rude enough to make him go home at four in the morning when he lives all the way across town, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to let him sleep in her bed. They go on pretending for two weeks until Emma comes into the precinct with one of her guys, scantily clad in one of her “fake date” dresses, and it takes no more than Killian running his tongue over his bottom lip when she leans over his desk to sign off on some paperwork, breasts spilling over the top of said dress, for her to find herself in his apartment riding him with abandon, elbows propped on his kitchen counter as he pounds into her from behind, his cock dragging against her walls while her stomach is pushed into marble and his lips trail down her back, his tongue tracing patterns that his hips follow into her swollen heat.

 That night was pretty much it for her, a downward spiral into her inability to resist Killian Jones. They never talked about it. It just kept happening. They’d end up at one of their apartments or in the backseat of a car or a bathroom stall if they were feeling particularly adventurous. But neither of them ever made a move for more, not until recently. No dates were planned, the most they did eating leftover pizza when one of their stomachs growled between rounds – that isn’t really true, but she’ll deny it until her face turns blue because apparently she’s a stupid, stubborn asshole.

 I quite like your ass, Swan.

 It’s almost like if they didn’t talk about it, it meant it wasn’t real, it wasn’t really happening. But it most definitely is happening, even if no one knows but them and possibly Killian’s neighbors.

 Sometimes the neighbors will bang on the wall (so will Emma and Killian but in a different way) when the two of them get particularly enthusiastic, and it always results in Killian’s grunting increasing in volume while he moves against her so that the slapping of their skin can be heard through the wall.

 It’s fucking hot.

 It started just as sex, but she hasn’t been with anyone else since it started two years ago and she knows he hasn’t either because they dropped the condoms to rely on just her birth control when they’d admitted to not sleeping with other people one night curled up under blankets on her living room floor as they ate Halloween candy and laughed about the time that David got so drunk that he started speaking in a British accent. So it’s sex with feelings buried in a shallow hole beneath the surface, denial of this completely on her part. Maybe another day she’ll own up and open up about any possible (definite) feelings that she has, but he’s got her all riled up now with at least a fifteen minute drive to his apartment, and that’s not something she’s about to let him quit before the job’s done.

 “Killian, I don’t want to talk about this tonight. I would rather you use your mouth for other purposes. Or maybe I’ll use mine.”

 She sees the flash of desire in his eyes, but she also sees the tenseness in his stance as he moves away from her, contact between the two of them completely gone. He doesn’t say anything else, putting the key into the ignition and making his way to his apartment in a silence that’s decidedly not filled with anticipation.

 The only comfort she has is when he places his right hand over her left as he takes them home.

 She knows she probably hurt him because she knows he wants more from them. He’s made his feelings clear on the matter, but she’s holding back. She’s okay having him when she labels it as “just sex” because then she knows there’s no reason for him to cut himself off from her, to leave her. If it’s more, it’s different. It’s scarier, and she knows that once he gets to know her, knows that she’s not worth this relationship he seems to want, and then she won’t have him in any way. She’ll have to stare at him across the dinner table at David’s and act like he’s just a guy who she sees on occasion and not a man she’s come to rely on every day of her life.

 That night is weird between the two of them. She knows he’s pissed, so she was expecting rough sex, her body to be used in a way that allows him to let out his frustrations while leaving her unable to walk normally the next day. But it’s not. It’s…slow. He kisses her languidly, at a slower pace than he ever has before, and instead of thrusting into her as soon as they get to the bedroom, he takes his time, kissing down her stomach before moving his tongue against her clit, slow flicks that have her moaning and arching off the bed in seconds. He presses his tongue flat as he swipes it through her folds before moving back to her clit, knowing just what to do to have her riled up after years of experience.

 This is torture, she thinks, attempting to move her hips closer to him to get more pleasure from the pressure, but he uses his arm to hold her down, not allowing her to do anything but let him lap at her. She could cry from the pleasure he is giving her, but they both know it isn’t enough.

 “Please,” she moans, trying to lift her hips again, but he presses his arm further into her to keep her down.

 He doesn’t respond, just hums against her clit before biting down, her body bucking up as much as it can because oh my god.

 “Kil – Killian. I – I need you to change something. I can’t…I can’t take it anymore.”

 He looks up at her momentarily, stopping his motions to fucking smile up at her before moving to slowly thrust two fingers inside of her, curling them so that he hits the spot he knows brings her the most pleasure.

 It feels so fucking good, and bless the man for doing this. For enjoying this. The sight of his black hair buried between her thighs is one of the most erotic things she’s ever seen, and she never wants it to stop.

 He bites her clit and curls his fingers simultaneously, and she’s gone, screaming out his name before everything goes black and she can feel nothing but ecstasy.

 When he’s done lapping at her, her essence covering his beard, he kisses back up her stomach before running his tongue against hers, the taste of herself a weird but not unfamiliar taste. This feels a little too much like what she imagines love making feels like, so she takes control, flipping them over so that she can straddle his lap as he leans against his headboard.

 When she sinks down onto him, the size of him a fullness that she craves, a fullness that’s only okay when he’s fully sheathed inside of her, bottoming out before she lifts her hips, setting a punishing pace that has Killian speaking for the first time since they’ve gotten to his apartment.

 “Fuck, Emma,” he groans, moving his hands to grab onto her hips, a firmness that will leave bruises if it continues, “just keeping moving like that. You’re a bloody siren, darling, always doing everything you can to suck me dry with that wonderful body of yours.”

 Fucking hell, she thinks, her walls absolutely dripping at the feel of him inside her and at the dulcet tone of his words. She could get off just by the way he speaks to her, the way his accent rolls of his tongue and straight to her core, deep and soothing and fucking hot.

 She can feel him pulsing inside of her, and she knows by the way his eyelids are hooded that he’s close, that he’s almost not in control of his body anymore, but then he’s reaching up to pull her down so that he can kiss her, burying his hands in her hair, the sensation reaching all the way down to her toes so much that her legs begin to quiver. His mouth is hot, needy, the way he’s kissing her like a man who hasn’t been kissed in years, and she can’t get enough. But she also knows the he’s about to finish, and she’s not quite there yet and she wants to come again, so she has to maneuver her hand off his chest to find its way to where they’re joined, fast hard circles that have her arching her back within seconds.

 Killian flips them over so that she’s on her back before spilling himself into her, his seed threatening to drip onto her thighs as he’s rolling off of her so that he doesn’t crush her with his weight. She’s still fingering at her clit, moving her hands down so that his essence coats her fingers before moving back to her clit, almost to that point of pleasure, but not quite yet. Killian usually makes sure she’s finished before him, but he’s very obviously a little off tonight. He must come back to his senses because without even realizing it, her eyes closed as she focuses on reaching her own peak, his mouth his on her breast, lapping at her sensitive bud as she works the sensitive bud that’s a bit lower. Together they help her reach her climax, the feelings of her orgasm rippling through her body like a small explosion that has her gasping for air before Killian kisses her again and rests his forehead against her shoulder, their heavy pants filling the room.

 When she wakes up the next morning, she’s pleasantly sore from where Killian frantically pounded into her again in the middle of the night, his hands grappling at her hips while her face was pressed into the mattress. She reaches over to pull Killian’s arm around her waist so that she can go back to sleep, but he’s not in bed, the sheets cool to the touch. It’s not the first time it’s happened, but it’s unusual for him to not be next to her, arm curled around her waist, the heavy weight of it one of her favorite things.

 But he’s not there.

[consulting-celiac-in-the-tardis]

7+ Delicious Ways to Eat More Veggies with Every Meal

New blog post!

This post is generously sponsored by Spinato's. 

When I was diagnosed with celiac disease, more changes happened to my diet than just going gluten free. Slowly but surely, my new dietary restrictions inspired me to experiment with more naturally gluten-free foods...which includes plenty of delicious vegetables. Before I knew it, I'd gone from a meat-and-potatoes kinda girl to a veggie addict! As a result, I can now honestly say that I enjoy eating vegetables and crave several servings of them every day. But I don't just eat raw broccoli and carrots! Instead, in the six years since my celiac diagnosis, I've found creative and yummy ways to incorporate more vegetables into my meals...and with help from Spinato's (home to some seriously ammmmazing certified gluten free broccoli crust pizza!), I'm sharing my top veggie hacks today! Because while I truly believe that everyone thrives on different foods and that "healthy eating" looks different for each person, I don't think most people can go wrong with adding a few more vegetables to their daily eats.

So whether you're looking for sneaky ways to up your kid's veggie intake this coming school season or you just want more creative ideas for delicious gluten free meals, keep reading to learn about 7+ easy and delicious ways you can eat more vegetables with every meal of the day!

Breakfast: 

When I was in high school, some of my typical breakfasts were cinnamon raisin bagels slathered in peanut butter or a protein bar eaten in the car on the ride to school. And while those certainly aren't bad options, my breakfasts nowadays are a lot more veggie-heavy. But you might not even realize that upon first glance! Because here's the thing: I'm not a savory breakfast kinda gal. When I wake up, I want something sweet...but that doesn't have to keep me from getting in some veggies and greens. And if you follow me on Instagram, you can probably guess one of my favorite ways to eat more vegetables with breakfast: smoothie bowls!

Veggie Hack #1: Get Sneaky with Smoothie Bowls

In fact, one of the best things about smoothies is that, depending on the ingredients and ratios you use, you can pack them full with vegetables and just taste the sweetness of banana or whatever fruits you included as well. Some of my favorite vegetables to include in smoothie bowls are:

Zucchini and squash, steamed and frozen ahead of time to help with digestion. These are my go-to veggies to use if you want a tummy-friendly smoothie that is super thick and creamy but lower in sugar thanks to these additions. And I promise - you don't taste the zucchini or yellow squash at all, especially when paired with flavorful ingredients like berries or cacao powder. 

Cauliflower, steamed and frozen. If your stomach can handle cauliflower in larger quantities, this is one Instagram trend you'll fall in love with.

Leafy greens, like spinach (which has a very mild flavor) or iceberg, kale, etc. if you don't mind tasting those greens more obviously.

Veggie Hack #2: Add Zucchini to Oats or Porridge

If you wake up craving a warm breakfast but still want something sweet and secretly full of veggies, zoats (also known as "zucchini oats") are another delicious option! I have made my zoats with zucchini and yellow squash, just grated and squeezed to remove the extra moisture. As I've shared in recipes like this one, you can also use alternative porridge grains like quinoa flakes, buckwheat flakes, or chia seeds if you can't tolerate gluten free oats. You can enjoy your zoats cold (and soaked overnight instead of being cooked) or warm, but if you're trying to hide the texture of zucchini, cooked is the better option. I often prep and soak my zoats the night before and then just warm them up in the microwave until everything is soft and gooey that morning!

Snacks

My snacks have also changed since I've started to enjoy eating more vegetables. While I still love my protein bars, I often end up having something homemade or fresh instead...and many of my favorite snacks - as you can guess from the topic of this post! - involve some raw or cooked vegetables. 

Veggie Hack #5: Top Rice Cakes with Guac and Veggies

This tip is as simple as the name suggests. I know a lot of people enjoy rice cakes with peanut butter and jelly or other sweet toppings, but I'm also a big fan of putting on a layer of guac, avocado, hummus or pesto and adding some spinach, carrots, cucumbers or whatever other veggies I have on hand. If you love a crunchy snack, there's nothing better than this!

Veggie Hack #3: Dress Up Veggies with Homemade Dip

Now, I know I said that I didn't just eat raw broccoli and carrots (and these days, I rarely do at all!). However, when I do have a hankering for raw vegetables - especially during hot days when I don't want to turn on the oven to cook something - whipping up a quick homemade pesto or dip can make veggies a lot more of an interesting snack! Feel free to use whatever pesto recipe you enjoy, but my go-to lately has involved a mix of several handfuls of spinach, a few tablespoons of hemp seeds, a squeeze of lemon, heavy sprinkles of oregano and thyme, and enough chicken or vegetable stock (for extra flavor!) to get the pesto to mix in my mini blender.

If raw veggies aren't your thang, you can also roast some and keep them in the fridge for snacking and lunch and dinners (which we'll get to shortly!). One of my favorite pairings with pesto is roasted sweet potato rounds. Just cut a sweet potato up into small coins, place them on a lined baking tray (no oil required) and cook at 425 for 25-30 minutes or until caramelized and soft.

Veggie Hack #4: Replace Oil and Sugar with Veggies in Homemade Granola

If you've checked out my gluten free granola recipes before, you already know that I rarely ever bake mine with oil or refined sugars. Instead, I get all the clumps and sweetness from pureed fruits and grated zucchini and squash. I know it might sound a bit crazy at first, but you don't taste the vegetables at all and they help make the granola extra clustery and chewy. Plus, if you make granola with turmeric, yellow squash and banana, it'll be hard for anyone to notice the squash in the mix!

Lunch and Dinner

Now, the grand finale - how to add more vegetables into your lunches and dinners! 

Veggie Hack #6: Cook and Freeze Certain Vegetables and Homemade Fries Ahead of Time

As I already mentioned in the snacks section, roasting vegetables ahead of time so that they're ready when you want to eat is a serious game-changer. I'd also encourage you to experiment with different spices (I'm partial to thyme and oregano) and methods of cooking (for example, baking at a super high temperature for a bit of burnt edges on your broccoli or covering your tray of veggies with tin foil so that they actually steam in the oven) to see what ways taste best to you.

Another trick I've learned over my six years of veggie-loving: certain vegetables can handle being frozen and reheated later on for an extra easy serving of vegetables. For example, I often cook an entire spaghetti squash and freeze one half so that I can take out the frozen spaghetti squash the night before, stick in the oven to reheat for a few minutes, and dive in extra quickly later on. And if you love fries but haven't ever made your own, now is the time! There are tons of easy recipes out there, and I've had success cooking big batches of fries, letting them cool, and then freezing them in sealed bags. When I want fries later, I just throw a handful of frozen fries in the oven on high for a few minutes, and wala! Quicker than fast food!

Veggie Hack #7: Take Advantage of Delicious, Secretly Veggie-Packed Alternatives to Your Favorite Foods

And now for one of my favorite vegetables hack lately. I already mentioned that this post is in partnership with Spinato's...and if you're trying to eat more vegetables this year, Spinato's certified gluten-free broccoli crust pizza is about to become your new BFF!

I knew I was in for a treat as soon as I got my first boxes of Spinato's; even without opening the box or cooking the pizzas, the scent of tomato sauce and spices got my mouth watering. Spinato's 10-inch broccoli crust pizza comes in four different flavors: Margherita; Aged Asiago, Romano & Mozzarella; Mediterranean Supreme; and Primavera. Besides being certified gluten free (something I LOVE seeing in foods I eat regularly!), Spinato's pizzas are free of MSG and trans fat, and packed with high-quality ingredients like hormone-free chicken sausage and vine-ripened tomatoes from local farms. One of the coolest parts? The Spinato family has been experimenting with pizza recipes and unique topping combos since 1974, so these pizzas are part of a delicious family legacy. As for my personal experience with these pizzas...first off, I loved how quickly you can cook them! Depending on what appliance you use, you can have your frozen pizza hot and ready in just 8 minutes. My pizza only took around 14 minutes in my oven, which makes Spinato's the perfect secret weapon to keep in my freezer for crazy busy school days this coming semester. And I definitely want to try grilling these pizzas one day, as the box suggests!

And now we get to the most important part: the taste. For the particular dinner in these photographs, I went with Spinato's Primavera pizza, which features zucchini, red onion, mushroom and red pepper. I added a lil' bit of greens and avocado (since those are my go-to pizza toppings!), and enjoyed evvery bite. I loved that the sauce, cheese and toppings were evenly dispersed throughout the whole pizza, and that the soft crust was balanced out by crunchy and chewy vegetables. I also enjoyed that the crust looked "normal" despite its broccoli base. If you served this to me without the box, I wouldn't have guessed the crust is packed with vegetables! My cooked pizza crust did come out of the oven feeling pretty soft and some of the pizza slices were messy to hold - especially since Spinato's pizza crust is pretty thin (just how I, personally, like it). However, once the pizza cooled some, the crust got a lot sturdier and had deliciously crunchy edges with a soft, chewy middle. And at the end of the day, I don't mind a bit of a messy dinner as long as it tastes finger-lickin' good...and Spinato's pizza definitely does.

If you want to try out Spinato's for yourself, Spinato's frozen broccoli crust pizzas are now available in over 1,500 stores all over the US. For help finding Spinato's broccoli crust pizza in your area, check out Spinato's handy dandy product locator here! Before I was diagnosed with celiac disease, I would've never imagined waking up and looking forward to eating zucchini and green beans and all sorts of other delicious veggies. But the more I've experimented with new, delicious ways to enjoy vegetables, the more I've craved them...and I hope the same can be said of anyone who tries any of the vegetable hacks I've shared in this blog post! And if you need a tasty and easy place to start eating more vegetables ASAP...as I mentioned earlier, Spinato's certified gluten free broccoli crust pizza can be ready in 15 minutes or less. ;) *I received free samples and monetary compensation in exchange for spreading the word about Spinato's broccoli crust pizza. However, I only partner with brands and products that I personally belive in, and all photographs, opinions and thoughts are my own. Thank you for supporting what supports Casey the College Celiac!* Which flavor of Spinato's pizza would you want to try first? Margherita; Aged Asiago, Romano & Mozzarella; Mediterranean Supreme; or Primavera? Tell me in the comments!

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[k-l-s-h]

It was with a big huff, that Arria finally managed to unlocked the door of the apartment she shared with her uncle. Kicking it open, she hurried herself in before she could drop the too many bags in her hands. And once she succeeded in the task of deposing her sport and school bags in the living room, and her groceries in the kitchen, she allowed herself to let out a big sigh. Crawling back to the doorway just after to lock it again.

She was exhausted. Her days were so tiring and she wasn't in high-school yet. She couldn't even dare to imagine how it was going to be like when she'd be a university student either. But with the famous Choi Hyejin as her new coach, she should have known better than hope that she'd let her rest and breathe a little. Even if the junior championships were over, her trainings were even worse if possible than before them, and she just felt like crawling into a hole, and hide in it during a week. To just rest. Nonstop.

The little brunette shook her head. Forcing herself to get out of her sudden apathy by giving little slaps on her cheeks. Her day wasn't over yet and it was the price she had to pay if she wanted her dreams to become a reality.

Pushing herself off of the door, she went back in the kitchen and looked at the clock that was hanging on the wall. 6:42 PM. Her homework would have to wait for today as well. Putting away all the food, spices and condiments she had bought while keeping aside the ingredients she'd need for tonight's meal, she tried to guess at what hour her uncle would be back. He had made a note for her probably last night, when he was finally home and that she had found in the morning on the kitchen tables. Saying that he'd be out by the time she'd come for lunch, but that he'd be back for diner at 7:00 PM. Which meant that he'd be here around one and a half hour later, giving her just enough time to prepare something to eat for the both of them.

Not wasting anymore of it, she took the equivalent of what would fill the whole rice cooker, knowing way too well how much her uncle could eat, hoping that she'd still have some for tomorrow's lunch, and she started to rinse it.  Repeating the action a few times before she finally put it in the rice cooker with the cups of water needed, letting the little machine that had saved and made her life easier every day, do its magic.

"Now what can I do..." She mused out loud while she eyed the food still laying in front of her.

Even if Arria was only fourteen years old, the young teenager knew how to make a fairly great number of dishes that, even fully-grown adults, like her uncle, didn't. Her grandmother took pride in passing down to her, her culinary knowledge. Teaching and showing to the little girl how to do many traditional meals that weren't only Chinese, but from other Asian countries as well. Her younger self actually enjoyed the exercise a lot. And until this day, the brunette still did. There was something satisfying, in succeeding to make every flavours marry well the others and see the eyes of the ones tasting her dishes, lit up with pleasure. She felt like a little witch at the time who had the power to, either please with sweet things her brother and grandfather, or make them spit fire with wicked meals and her grandma's help when they were mean.

Arria chuckled a little at the memory, that actually helped her to settle her mind on what would be the night's menu: some green papaya salad with some sweet and sour chicken, since Wen wouldn't be happy without some meat. The girl was craving for actual fresh vegetables and spicy food since a week or two. But her uncle was so busy with his tattoo parlour and other ‘grown-up things’ like he'd said -that she knew were diverse night-trips to pubs- that he forgot, many times, to buy groceries for the both of them. Actually forgetting that he was not living alone anymore. He of course never did it on purpose. Arria knew that. And that was why she came to the resolution to add on her list to take care of it as well, with the other chores.

She still remembered the way he'd blush and apologize to her, the first time she had come to him and asked for some money to go out and buy them what they needed. Assuring him that it wasn't a big deal. But it was true that sometimes, she actually felt like she was either living alone, or was the one who actually took care of him since she did everything in the apartment. The laundry, dishes, ironing, cooking and cleaning. Everything. And it was tiring truly. But she didn't feel like she had much of a choice since he wouldn't do them. Or at least not after a long, long time. So, she took it upon herself to act up and take care of these things. Especially since he could have refused to take her with him. And she was indebted to her uncle for that. Even if he wasn't very present and not being much of help to the young girl, he still did not want her to end up in a boarding school, alone, in a foreign country. And she would forever be grateful to Wen for his thoughtful gesture.

Plus, it was doing the groceries, or never-ending takeout nights. And as much as it was some time and considerable energy kept for the young skater, she was sick, of those greasy meals that the tattooist seemed to enjoy way too much on his couch, in front of some show, his cigarettes near him and his ashtray fuming beside whatever food he'd bought for them. Reducing his niece appetite to smoke as well though, he'd seem these days to call the nearest pizzeria a lot less.

And Arria was actually pretty sure that, the disgusted looks she'd shot him and couldn't contain every time he ate that way, were the reasons why and had traumatized the poor man who couldn't bare it anymore. Her eyes were so full of judgment and silent reproaches, that Wen wasn't quite sure that she truly was a young teenager. He couldn't even dare to wonder how that look was going to develop through time.

Turning on the radio, the heavy silence making her feel uneasy, Arria then went to work. Thoughtlessly swaying to the songs passing on it, since she could never help herself when music was on, all the while she cut the vegetables and meat. And soon enough, she was humming, even dancing a little, like she always did. In a habit that never left her so far and probably never would. And after that, it didn't take her long to finish the dishes she has chosen for them. A satisfied sigh escaped her lips while she stretched her back. Content with herself and the sweet smell dancing in the air. She just hoped that he'd be true to his words and would be home this time and at a descent hour. Arria sincerely wanted to share a meal with him. With someone. She didn't want to be alone for once. Not this time.

It was a little after 10PM, when the little brunette finally heard the sound of keys unlocking the door. Making her head snap up from the homework she was working on and her heart beat faster.

"Sorry kiddo! I'm late but home!" Shouted the strong voice of Wen who was from where she was, visibly struggling and hurrying himself in with all the ruckus he made.

Scrambling to her feet herself, Arria almost tripped in her own hurry. Quickly joining the older man in the hallway. Opening her mouth, she was about to tell him how she thought that he had broken his promises again and how she still waited for him. Their dinner still in the pots because she really wanted to eat with him tonight. But she quickly shut it. Frowning a little at how clingy she would sound and instead, greeting him shortly before she headed into the kitchen. Mumbling that she was going to heat everything up again, and that he should make himself comfortable in the meantime. And even if Wen noticed her unusual behaviour, he put in on the fact that she was a growing teen and that teenagers were complicated to understand anyway. Doing then as she said and marvelling over the fact that even the table was neatly set. Forcing his niece to bit her tongue. Ready to retort that it was set and done since more than two hours now, and that he should have been the one doing it for once. But of course, she kept her thoughts for herself. And some minutes later, she was bringing plates and bowls of fuming food ready to be served while of course, once again, Wen was spread on the couch and looking at whatever show was on the tv. Getting a sigh out of Arria.

"Food is ready!"

"Oh! Perfect I'm starving and it smells so good!" He shouted happily in response. Chuckling then awkwardly when he noticed the way the young girl was looking at him, as if she was trying to stab him with her eyes, once he was sitting at the table. "And you must be too as well I... Am so sorry Jie I'll do better next time I pinkie swear..."

And she sighed again. Falling down on her own chair with a small and reassuring smile. She knew he'd break that vow. But not on purpose. So it was okay in a way. "It's not a big deal uncle. Anyway enjoy."

Content with his niece's response and smile, Wen didn't try to overanalyse her. Grinning joyfully instead and wishing her a 'Bon Appetit'. She didn't have to wait too long to start eating, since he almost shoved his chopsticks in the different dishes to his mouth right away. Making her blink several times as she was serving herself. If her grandmother was there...

"Aaah it's delicious Jie!" Her uncle moaned. "I haven't eaten something this good since mama's Xiuying dishes!" Speaking of the devil, he forced her to suppress a snort. "She truly taught you good! Gosh your husband will be one lucky bastard!"

The tiny but sincere smile that was at first stretching her lips disappeared just as fast as it came. His last sentence making her freeze for a few seconds before she continued to eat as if nothing happened. Her nose deep in her bowl. Of course, he too would say something like that. They all said things like that to her. How she must know how to cook, how to sew, how to take care of the house and everything because that's what her future husband would except from her. Complimenting her then on how she'd be a great wife when she'd get older. And she knew that a lot of girls wanted to have children later with a loving and handsome husband. But she never really wanted to, her. Even if it was the biggest wish of her grandmother, she was sceptical about it. Because all she wanted to do in life, was skating, dancing, be with her brother and still be friend and hangout with Cyrus. That was what she wanted.

"Speaking of that, how's your lil Iranian friend kiddo?"

Arria shot him a suspicious glare. Not liking how he linked him to her future lucky bastard of a husband. "He's fine... His teachers are being a pain too since the brevet is coming soon as well as our first orientation choices."

"Aaah! That's not what I meant Jie!" Wen whined, making her squint her eyes. "Did he ask you out already or not? He'll have concurrence soon he'd better hurry!"

She chocked on her sweet pepper slice at his words. She was not, ready for that.

 "What?!" She managed to shout in spite of the situation, trying to make the vegetable go down her throat with some water. Eyes wide. "What do you mean?!"

And it was his turn to look stunned. Blinking several times before he mused out loud. "Ooooh... You two are still in denial... I see..."

At this point of the conversation, Arria had just learned how to master a dumbfounded, horrified and unimpressed expression at the same time. "Geez he's just a friend uncle Wen what?!"

"What?!" He laughed "Well you're both so cute together!" Arria scoffed at that even though it didn't stop him. "You're literally joined by the hip plus, I dunno! I never saw you date anyone so far, it's weird! you're of age kiddo!"

She snorted. "And look who's talking..."

Silence was what responded to her spicy gibe while she was shewing angrily her mouthful of just as spicy salad. And it took her some more seconds to realize what she had dared to say out loud. The teenager's eyes grew wide and she clasped a hand over her mouth a minute or two too late.

Shit.

She had said what she had thought this time. And not only in her head.

Shit!

"Oh fuck- I-I mean! Oh my god I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"

And to her biggest surprise, she was cut by his thunderous laugh. Making her blink. Another thing she was not excepting from him that night.

"Fuck!" He laughed, clapping his hands together. "Oh fuck Jie you really should speak up your mind a lil more like that damn kiddo!"

Wen then leaned on the table, mischief in his eyes and a hand covering the side of his mouth, as if he was going to tell her a secret. "You know, you should never hold back when you have good gibes on the tip of your tongue. Especially if they're targeting an old single stupid man like me."

She blinked again. Almost not daring to believe what he was telling her, and how her grandmother would hit him with an improvised weapon if she was there. "… You know that you're basically telling me to disrespect adults, right?"

A silence responded to her, shortly followed by a mumbled cuss that made the corner of her mouth twitch. "Shit. That's so probably not how the oldies raised you right? Parenting is really not my thing huh?"

"Well I won't deny that."

She fell with all her weight on her bed. Head first landing on her fluffy pillow. Arria was even more exhausted now. Wen continued to tease her about Cyrus during the rest of their dinner despite her growls ad sighs and 'No!'. And of course, when they were full, she still had to wash up the dishes and pots. The old man returning to his television, making it a tough mission for his niece to not just throw her sponge on the back of his head. But that was how her life routine was. So she just fantasized about it and how nice it would have been to just give on her impulses. Arria was already dozing off, ready to just succumb to the call of sleep, when the tattooist didn't even bother to knock on her door and almost smashed it against the wall, phone in hand. And, fully awake now, she was ready to just insult and curse him before he cut her, a smug grin on his stupid old man's face.

"Jie!" He hummed. "It's your future boyfriend!"

She could, murder him, at this point. She really could. Especially since he hadn't say it in Chinese. On fucking purpose. Arria literally snatched the phone out of his hands and pushed him harshly out of her room. Making him burst out laughing under her whispered bad words as she slammed the door behind him.

"...Your what now?"

"Oh shut the fuck up okay!" She finally snapped, her patience equal to zero, especially with that smug tone of his. "The old idiot is being an idiot that's all and urrgh!"

She almost crawled back to her bed. Completely ignoring the fact that she was actually happy to hear his voice after that long day, even if he indirectly made it more tiring.

She fell this time on her back with a soft sigh, frowning a little after some seconds. "Why are you calling so late in the night anyway?"

Cyrus scoffed. "Wow miss moody! That's how you treat your only friend really? Who calls you in the dead of the night to light up your mood? I deserve better than that."

"Fuck you."

"Hey take it slow okay, I'm not even your boyfriend yet."

She hissed at his words. Happy that he wasn't there to see her furiously blush though, he knew she was by the way he started to snicker at her. Another one she added to her to kill list. They soon started to bicker like they usually do. Throwing gibes at each other but laughing too. Even if she'd never admit it out loud and certainly not in front of him, he truly could light up her mood in a snap of his fingers. Or make her hiss and growl like a damn animal.

"Hey." He cut her suddenly. Surprising the mixed-race girl with how deep his voice was getting with time.

"Yeah?"

"Happy birthday..."

Arria blinked. What?

Straightening herself up, her elbows sinking into the soft mattress of her bed, she shot a glare at her alarm clock. It was past midnight. Her computer lit up almost immediately with a mail notification and she didn't had to go to it, to figure out who could have send it, since she was already on the phone with the only other person who knew, and remembered. The corners of her mouth twitched. And soon enough, a bright and soft smile was dancing on her lips while she finally realized why, he had called her this late at night. It felt like fireworks were popping in her chest and stomach.

And she whispered. "Thank you..."