#so anyways I was thinking of putting a cup over it then a plastic plate to let it go

[ridingreeves]

𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗇 𝖽𝗈➤𝟤

𝖯𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀－𝖤𝗅𝗂𝗃𝖺𝗁*𝖲𝗆𝗈𝗄𝖾*𝖬𝗈𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗑 𝖡𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝖲𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒－𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝖲𝗆𝗈𝗄𝖾’𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾－𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗏𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗌

𝖶𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌－𝖧𝖺𝗋𝗌𝗁 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾，𝖭－𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝗎𝗌𝖺𝗀𝖾，𝗍𝗈𝗑𝗂𝖼 𝖾𝗑 𝗌𝗆𝗈𝗄𝖾，𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗆𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗀𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝖻𝖿 𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋

A/N- im not good at part two's so i hope you enjoy it 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝖿 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗂𝖿 𝗂𝗍 𝖽𝗈����'𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗆𝖺 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽❤︎︎

Smoke’s name lit up your phone just after 11 p.m.

You were already turned away from the light, arm tucked under your pillow, trying to pretend the day didn’t shake you. But that name on your screen?

It flipped your whole body heat like a switch.

You groaned and answered anyway. “What, Elijah?”

Smoke chuckled, low and gravelly like he’d been waiting for you to cave. “Damn. Full government? You mad or tryna be professional?”

“I’m tryna go to sleep.”

“Yeah? Thought maybe you was waitin’ on him to get home. But that nigga probably still somewhere drinkin’ kombucha and talkin’ about tax brackets.”

You sighed, loud. “What do you want?”

“You doin’ somethin’ Saturday?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“I said—Saturday. You busy?”

You sat up a little. “Why?”

“Family cookout,” he said like it was nothing, like he hadn’t just turned your whole emotional equilibrium inside out hours earlier. “Stack throwin’ some ribs on the grill, aunties bringin’ plates, kids gon’ be in the yard actin’ up… you know the drill.”

Your voice flattened. “So? What’s that got to do with me?”

Smoke hesitated, just for a second. Then came the truth.

“Wanna see you there.”

You nearly laughed. “Why would I come to your family cookout?”

“Because you family,” he said, voice low and firm. “Still my son’s mama. Still got my last name. And ‘cause you already know my people been askin’ about you.”

“Oh, have they?” you said, sarcastically.

“Yup,” he said. “Aunt Dee talkin’ ‘bout how you used to bring them red velvet cupcakes, askin’ if you finally left that boy who look like he drive a Prius and listen to meditation playlists.”

You sighed. “Smoke…”

“Look, I’m not askin’ you to come over here and confess your love. I’m sayin’… I'm taking lil man. Come eat. Chill. Be around folks who know you.”

“And him?” you asked.

“Who?”

“You know who.”

Smoke scoffed. “Man, he not invited. Hell, if he pull up in them tight-ass pants talkin’ about chakras, Stack gon’ put him on the grill next to the sausages.”

Despite yourself, you snorted.

“C’mon,” Smoke said, quieter now. “You ain’t gotta stay long. Just come through. Our boy gon be running around with his cousins. Let your hair down.”

“I don’t know…”

“Let me make it easy,” he said, voice slick now, confident. “If you don’t pull up Saturday, Stack gon’ post that baby picture of you at our gender reveal. The one where you fell asleep holdin’ that blue onesie with cupcake on your face.”

“You wouldn’t dare—”

“I already sent it to his phone.”

“Smoke!”

He laughed. Like deep, belly-rolling, “I got her” laughed.

“That’s dirty.”

“Yeah,” he said. “But it’s family business, right?”

You were quiet for a long moment. The idea of seeing them all again—his people, your people once upon a time—was dangerous. You knew that. Knew it’d be stepping back into something you worked too hard to walk away from.

But also?

You missed them.

You missed you—the version of you who laughed too loud on plastic lawn chairs with a cup full of spiked sweet tea. The you who wore crop tops and hoop earrings without worrying about what her new man would think.

“…What time?”

Smoke didn’t say “I knew you’d come,” but you could hear it in the way he exhaled through a grin.

“Three. Bring some of that pasta salad they always beg you for.”

You sighed again, but softer this time. “You better not start with me when I get there.”

“I won’t,” he said, voice low. “I’ma just be happy to see you. And maybe… remind you what you walked away from.”

You shook your head. “You never stop, do you?”

“Not when it comes to you? Nah.”

You didn’t say goodbye. You just hung up and stared at the ceiling in the dark, heart pounding louder than it should’ve been.

SATURDAY

The music hit you before you even turned onto the street—classic Frankie Beverly & Maze, the anthem of every Black barbecue across the country. You rolled down the window a little and smiled despite yourself.

You hadn’t even parked before your son ran to your car.

“They got the bouncy house again.”

“Do they,” you said, trying to keep it cool.

He lit up like a firecracker anyway. “YESSS!”

You parked down the block. Far enough away to feel like you could slip out if things got weird. Close enough to be seen.

And oh, you were seen.

Stack spotted you first, posted by the grill with a white towel over his shoulder and a pair of tongs in one hand.

“Look what the wind blew in!” he yelled, grinning. “Look at her—comin’ through with the thighs out like she ain’t been missed!”

 “So where yo’ boyfriend at? He don’t do sun, or he just allergic to bein’ useful?”

You rolled your eyes. “He had to work.”

Stack laughed like that was the funniest lie he’d ever heard. “Of course he did. Probably somewhere tryna sell somebody an extended warranty.”

“Stack—”

You rolled your eyes, adjusting your sunglasses. “Don’t start.”

Stack came over to you, watching your boy run back with his cousins, then winked at you. “Your man let you out the house wearin’ that, huh? He brave.”

You didn’t answer. Just walked behind your boy toward the backyard where all the noise was coming from—kids hollering, grown folks talking over each other, people playing cards.

And then you saw him.

Smoke.

In a black tee, chain glinting in the sunlight, red Solo cup in one hand, leaning back in a lawn chair like he didn’t start half the drama in your life—and dare you to hold it against him.

He stood up when he saw you, smile slow, easy. Dangerous.

“Look who decided to bless the function,” he said, eyes sliding down your body.

“Relax,” you muttered. “I’m just here for my son.”

“Mmhm,” he said, stepping in close enough that only you could hear. “But you brought that sundress and them hoops like you knew I was gon’ be lookin’. That for me, mama?”

You pushed past him.

But the heat in your chest betrayed you.

⸻

The afternoon rolled on in that chaotic, beautiful way only family cookouts can. Kids in the sprinkler. Aunt Dee yelling at folks not to touch her potato salad. Stack on the grill talking ‘bout “I do this,” while burning the hot dogs anyway.

You sat on the folding chair under the tent, trying to stay cool and low-key, sipping sweet tea and avoiding all the side-eyes and slick comments from Smoke’s nosy-ass cousins.

You hadn’t been around in a while, but they remembered.

“Ohhh, she came back,” one of them whispered, not quiet enough.

“Lookin’ like she ain’t missed a beat,” another said, fanning herself.

Smoke was everywhere—tossing his son over his shoulder into the bounce house, cracking jokes with Stack, throwing shade with charm. But every time you glanced up, his eyes were already on you.

Like he never stopped watchin’.

Like he never would.

⸻

Later, when the sun was low…

You were sitting alone now, your son passed out under one of the tents with a plate next to him, cheeks sticky and hair wild.

You leaned back, trying to breathe. Trying to remember why you said you’d come.

Then, of course, Smoke appeared.

He sat down beside you, close but not touching. Just enough for the air between you to get thick.

“Appreciate you comin’,” he said.

You nodded.

He nudged your knee with his.

“You remember last summer’s cookout?” he asked. “Before everything fell apart?”

You looked at him. “Yeah. I remember.”

“You was dancin’ to that Fantasia song like you ain’t had no worries. I remember thinkin’, ‘Damn. That’s mine. Ain’t no way she ever leavin’.’”

Your chest ached. Because you remembered too. How good it had been before it wasn’t.

He turned toward you, full now. Honest. Dangerous in a new way.

“Everybody out here keep sayin’ we done,” he murmured. “But they don’t know how we built this. What we survived together. What we still feel. You think you can run from that, mama? But you always end up back here.”

“Back here don’t mean I’m stayin’.”

“Yeah?” he said. “Then why you still got that ring in your jewelry box?”

You looked at him, stunned.

He smirked. “Yeah. Ej told me. Said you wear it sometimes when you think nobody lookin’. Said you said it was ‘just a memory.’ But you don’t keep memories in velvet cases, do you?”

You stood fast, heart in your throat.

“I gotta go.”

Smoke stood too, but slower. Measured.

“You sure?” he asked. “’Cause you ain’t even tasted Stack’s ribs yet. Or had your second plate. Let me walk you to the car like I used to.”

You didn’t answer.

You just walked to your sleeping son, lifted him gently, kissed his sticky forehead.

Smoke followed behind you all the way to your car.

You laid your baby in the back seat, adjusted the belt, then turned around—and there he was. That same damn look on his face. Like he knew.

“Thanks for today,” you said, voice soft.

“You gon’ thank me better later?” he teased, but there was an ache in it. Something deeper.

You looked at him for a long second. Then whispered

“Smoke… don’t make me come back if you not gon’ keep me this time.”

His jaw clenched.

He stepped forward, hand brushing your wrist.

“I ain’t never stopped wantin’ to.”

You didn’t kiss him. Didn’t let him kiss you.

But the promise hung in the air.

And when you drove off that time, hands still trembling slightly on the wheel?

You weren’t scared like before.

You were curious.

Because you knew now—

That door?

Wasn’t as closed as you told yourself it was.

[luveline]

kisses before dinner — steve comes home to his girls after a long day. 2k, mom!reader

Steve has a back ache twinging between his shoulders that takes his breath away as he treks the last step up to the front door. The door gets caught on the latch when he pushes it open, which is awesome, Steve’s so glad you’re being safe late at night, but deplorable in that he has wood grain etched into his jaw and no way inside. 

“Girls?” He knocks the glass pane. “Anybody home?” 

Everyone should be home. Your car is in the driveway, the girls’ shoes are by the wall. He pushes the door open as far as he can (not far) and weasels his face into the gap to look for you. It’s dark besides the upstairs bathroom light. 

Steve calls your name a few times, but eventually comes to the realisation that you’re all asleep and he’s locked out. He closes the door and heads back to his car to scrounge the spare back door key from under his seat. 

He fights through the garden gate covered in brambles to the backyard. It hasn’t been touched since summer, forgotten things left to the elements. Avery’s bike flakes with copper coloured rust against the wall. The trampoline net is tangled and fallen off of one side. There are plastic cups in the stinging nettles growing back beneath it and gummy bears swollen with water along the paving stones like some poor retelling of Hansel and Gretel. He unlocks the back door and promptly knocks over the trash can he’d left in front of it. His back whines as he cleans it away, but at least it’s warm inside. 

It’s good to be home. 

He shoves the toppled garbage back into the can, washes tomato sauce off of his hands in the sink, and lets himself bask in his own poorly lit company for a moment, rubbing his tired eyes. He was hoping for a welcome party. It took longer to help Robin move than they’d anticipated. 

“I won’t be back for a while,” he’d said apologetically down the phone. 

“Okie dokie,” you’d crooned. He didn’t need to see you to know there was a baby in your lap. “Just come home when you can, babe. And lift with your knees! I’ll put your plate in the fridge, yes? Love you.” Your voice turned to sugar. “Love you, love you, love you, honey.” You definitely weren’t talking to him at that point. Mother of my kids, he’d thought reverently, the strength of a thousand men restored for an hour or two before the fatigue truly set in and he and Robin considered leaving the rest of her furniture on her new front lawn.

He scratches his hair from his eyes with both hands. Mother of my kids, he thinks again. You’ve actually managed to keep the kitchen tidy, the only evidence of a day of play being the grape juice rings on the dining table placemats. How the fuck you’ve done it is a miracle worth marvelling. Three children, one (admittedly smaller) baby bump, and a full eighteen hours by yourself. You’re very impressive. 

He decides to tell you emphatically with his face in your neck. He should shower, and he will apologise to you for subjecting you to his sweaty hair in the morning. You’ll shrug off his apology, say something sweet about for better or worse or maybe wrinkle your nose and kiss him anyways. 

Steve honestly can’t find any shame about how much he likes you. Like and love can begin to diverge in a marriage, especially after kids when your duty as parents is more important than it is as partners, but you’ve yet to let him pull away, and he won’t give you a reason to. He’ll keep trying as hard as possible to be a husband you can adore. And you don’t have to do much, really. Realistically you give the majority of yourself every day to Steve and your kids, but he would cling to you if you got sick of it. He knows he would. You could turn hermit and live under the bed, and Steve would spend half his life on his stomach just looking at you.

Half trying to pull you out again. The other half getting the girls ready for school. He’s so tired he doesn’t realise that this is too many halves. 

When he gets to the top of the stairs he feels like a lifetime has passed since he left that morning, bright and early at 5AM. There’d been driving, car swaps, booing at people from behind the wheel, a hundred boxes, a million trips up and down the stairs, and a suspicious washing machine recalibration. This was without the cold coke drinking, peanuts, popcorn, mistimed movie references, and the obligatory insulting of Robin’s girlfriend’s mauve chaise, of which Robin refused to participate. 

Between all that, there’d been worrying, and a want for more phone calls. Promise me you’ll call me if you need anything at all, he’d said that morning, giving your face a fond caress. There’s a confidence that comes with this much love. Steve can pour every inch of his affection for you into one touch and knows you’ll soak it up like a sponge. Really. Any problems, any stress, any tantrums. Just call me. I’m ten minutes away. 

You were grateful if amused, telling him he didn’t need to worry so much, and then offering him another slice of toast. 

Is it weird how much I love my wife? he wonders, pushing open the bedroom door gently. 

You’re actually awake! He’s shocked and a little betrayed to find you looking at him, but the betrayal fades when he notices the swelling around your eyes and your trembling arm as you hoist yourself up under Avery’s weight. He’s woken you up coming in. 

“Sorry,” he mouths, frowning at your shakiness. 

You manage a smile and beckon him forward. The problem is the little ladies strewn about in the way. Avery drools on your chest while Dove takes up the entirety of Steve’s side, spread into a star shape, and Bethie snores loudly by your knees. An especially aggressive one makes him laugh as he rounds the bed to your side. 

“Hello,” he whispers, taking your face into a loving hand, “sorry I’m back so late.” 

You smile into his palm but don’t say anything. 

“You okay? Had a good day?” he asks.

You hum something nonsensical. He wipes at your cheek in the rough way you enjoy, your face bumped with every stroke of his thumb.

“Did you…”  Your eyelashes flutter closed. “Did you eat?” 

“Loads. Sorry. I’ll eat my dinner tomorrow.”

You wrinkle your nose. He’s been dying to see it. “Don’t bother, it wasn’t my best.”

“All dinners are your best.” 

You cover his hand with yours, and then you steal it away from your cheek and kiss it all over. Steve bends down to hug you.

“Missed you,” you say at the same time. Steve laughs. “Was it a long day?” you ask. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” 

“It was aeons,” you say. “The girls were good, mostly. Baby not so much.” 

“Aw, no,” he croons softly, “what’s she been doing?” 

“She won’t let me eat.” 

Steve rubs the top of your arm. “I’m sorry, honey. You should’ve called me.” 

“What are you gonna do, H?”

He breathes out into the side of your face. “You’re right, like always. What can I do?” 

He can’t do a thing to ease your morning sickness, so… Steve ends up taking a knee on the bed beside you to hold you for a while, no rush to lay down even though he aches in strings and shouts. “I’m glad I can’t get pregnant. I’d have hundreds of your babies if I could and it would be torture.” 

You laugh at his absurdity in the giggly startled way he’d been hoping for. 

“Did you throw up?” he asks, pulling away enough to see your face while his hand starts the soft journey down your front to your bump. You’re about three months along and the bump came quickly. It’s cute and Steve loves it and he tries not to be weird about it but he’s weird about you. 

“No, just kept churning. I made eggs for breakfast and we can’t eat them anymore.” 

Steve kisses your cheek, the corner of your eye, knowing it’ll make you happy. Your smile follows swiftly after, and he kisses that with gusto. “I don’t even like eggs,” he mumbles.

“You love eggs.” 

“What was it like being the stay at home mom today?” he asks. 

“Hard. But fun. Avery was being really nice to me all day, did you have something to do with that?” 

“Avery’s always nice.” 

Your smile widens impossibly, “Yeah, but she was asking me if I wanted to sit down and if I needed a glass of water all day.” 

Steve shrugs. “Doesn’t sound like something I’d do.” 

“Well don’t do it again, H. She’s just a baby. She doesn’t need to worry about me.” 

Steve strokes your forehead, totally in your orbit. “She’s not worrying. Are you worrying about her when you take care of her? And sometimes you need a reminder.” 

You chew it over. “Okay… you’re right. You win that one, Harrington. Mostly ‘cos I’m too tired.”

Steve always wins when he gets to slide into bed next to you. You push yourself over and bunch the kids up tighter. There’s not quite enough room for him. He feels as though he’s one little legged kick from falling back out, but he doesn’t mind, wrapping an arm around you and Avery where she’s sliding off of you and onto the mattress between you both. The poor girl is in a deep sleep, dribbling from the corner of her mouth. Steve wipes it away. 

“You comfortable enough?” he asks. 

“I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” 

He rests his head against yours on the pillows. “Missed you.” 

“But you had fun, right?” 

“It was great. I feel like I ran a marathon.” 

“Exhausted?” you ask. 

“And accomplished… You sure you’re okay? It was a long day by yourself. That stunt you pulled in the kitchen? Incredible.” 

“I thought you’d like that. I told the girls you’d buy them a pony.” 

“You did not.” 

You laugh into his cheek. “No, I didn't, you caught me… I’m fine, really. I did miss you. It’s not nice, not seeing you. I’m used to a couple of hours, but it started feeling wrong when it was dark out, I… it’s silly but I was thinking about how horrible it would be if you never came back–”

Your pitch lifts up as Steve gasps and slaps a hand over your mouth (doesn’t slap, but covers, big hand on your lips and pressing them shut without sympathy). 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He meets your eyes, smiling hard despite the fatigue clinging to you both, and doesn’t buckle, even as you kiss his palm again. “Pregnancy brain is a scary thing.” 

Your eyes turn to melting. He’s putty immediately, pulling your hand away to caress your cheek. 

“Wanna be crazy in love in the morning?” he asks gently. You put your arm behind Avery’s back and smile as she snuggles into your ribs. Steve kisses your nose. “Go to sleep, honey. I can feel how tired you are. Back to normal in the morning.” 

“Love you, Steve.” 

“Love you, too.”

[wandascosmic]

whatcha doing with a boy like that? (1)

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

part one of 'you belong with me' series

summary: basically a wanda series inspired by jim and pam from the office

word count: 1348

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9

“I have a question for you,” Wanda whispers. 

You smile, leaning further over Wanda’s receptionist's desk to hear the question. 

You can see Wanda suppressing a laugh as she says, “Are you going to Jennifer’s cat party on Sunday,” finally breaking as she finishes her sentence.

You laugh, shaking your head. “I can’t believe how serious she is about her cats.”   

Wanda looks up at you from her chair smiling at you, and you smile back, secretly pulling out a container of mixed berry yogurt from behind the desk and placing it on the elevated edge along with a metal spoon on top of the lid. 

“You made me forget what I came here for,” you say, pointing towards the yogurt. “Special delivery of a mixed berry yogurt for your afternoon snack break.” 

Wanda grins and takes the items from her best friend. 

“You know my favorite flavor of yogurt?” 

“Nah, it was the last one in the fridge.” 

Wanda’s face falls. 

You smile. “I’m kidding,” you say, bringing the smile back to Wanda’s face, “of course I know the same flavor of yogurt you’ve eaten for the past 7 years.” 

Vision doesn’t. Wanda thinks in her head. But that’s fine, he only sees her at the end of the workday, so it makes sense that you would know instead. 

You’re about to ask Wanda what’s wrong since you see her lost in thought, but you’re both suddenly interrupted. 

“Y/N!” Tony, your boss calls out. “Stop giggling with Maximoff and get back to work!”

“Since when did you care about your work Tony?” Nat calls out. 

“Good point,” he responds, walking back into his office.

You turn to look at Wanda giving her an apologetic look. “I should probably get back to work anyways,” you tell her, pointing at your desk over your shoulder. 

Wanda nods, a little deflated on the inside since you’re the only thing that makes her work day more interesting. 

You sigh as you sit down at your desk, picking up your phone to make a few sales calls. 

Wanda does the same, doing her job of answering the ringing phone with ‘Shield Industries this is Wanda’ over, and over, and over again.

You notice Wanda out of the corner of your eye, seeming a bit forlorn compared to before. 

You smirk, knowing exactly what to do to make her feel better. 

“God, damn it!” Sam yells out, growling. “Damn it! Y/N!” 

“Hold on, hold on. Sam, what happened?” Tony asks. 

Sam sighs, putting his head in his hand. 

“She put my stuff in Jell-O again,” he pulls out the plate that has the stapler encased in the lemon dessert. 

And right on cue, Wanda lets out a shocked laugh, her hand going to cover her mouth to suppress her laughter. You smile. 

“That’s real professional. Thanks a lot, Y/N. Tony, do something.” 

You decide to engage in a bit more banter for Wanda. You pull out a Jell-O cup and a plastic spoon from your drawer, opening it to eat the treat. 

“How do you know it was me?” You ask as you lean back in your chair. 

“It’s always you!” Sam snaps.   

Tony sighs. “Alright, the thing about practical jokes is you need to know when to start and when to stop,” you look over at Wanda, sharing a knowing look as she smiles at you. “And Y/N, I think it’s time for you to stop putting Sam’s personal items in Jell-O.

You nod, placing the Jell-O cup down and swallowing the Jell-O that had been in your mouth. “Alright. Sam, I'm sorry, because I have always been your biggest flan,” your mouth quirks up into a smile at your pun. 

You watch Wanda out of the corner of your eye bite down on her fist to stop from laughing. 

Tony snorts. “That was a good one,” he puts his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You know what, that’s just the way it is around here. Just deal with it, Sam.”

“I’m not gonna deal with it, Tony. It’s damage to company property.” 

“I’ll order a new one, dude. And those staplers are getting old anyways.” 

Sam sighs. “Fine, whatever.” 

Tony leaves to go back to his office.

“Hey, Sam,” you say.  

“What do you want?” 

“You should’ve put me in custardy.” 

Wanda lets out another laugh. 

“Do you like going out at the end of the week for a drink?” You ask Wanda, leaning over her receptionist desk and smiling at her. 

“Yeah,” Wanda replies, looking up at you. 

“Yeah, I mean.” you shrug. “That’s why we’re all going out. You know, so we can have an end-of-the-week drink.” 

“So when are we going out?” she asks, hopeful to have some fun after a while. 

“I don’t know, tonight, hopefully.” 

Suddenly, the creak of the door opening is heard, and you both turn your heads to see Vision walk in. Wanda’s fiance. You pull away from her desk. 

“Hey,” he greets you.

“Hi,” you reply. 

“Hey, babe,” he says to Wanda. 

“Hi, Vis,” she leans over her desk to kiss him. You look away. “Do you mind if I go out for a drink with my friends from work?” she points to you and the rest of the Shield Industry staff. 

He looks over at you before responding. “Uh, no, no, let’s just go home, Wanda.” 

Wanda frowns but quickly replaces it with a neutral look. “Um, okay. Give me a few minutes though,” she points to the various papers on her desks. “I still need to do my faxes since it’s only 20 past 5.” 

You watch the way her eyebrows are still creased, and you can tell that she had been looking forward to a night out. 

Wanda walks around her desk and smiles at the two of you, heading off towards the fax machine. 

You open and close your fists nervously, turning around to face Wanda’s fiance. “You know what, you should come with us. You know, since we’re all going out, it would be a good chance to see what people are like outside of the office. Who knows, it could be fun,” you tell him. 

He shakes his head. “No, I think we’re good. We’ve gotta get going anyways.”

You nod, “Sure, no worries.” 

You and him stand there for a bit, and you can’t help but break the awkward silence, “What’s in the, um, what’s in the bag?” you point to the black trash bag he has in his right hand. 

He gives you an annoyed look before turning around, “just tell her I'll talk to her later,” he says to you and walks out the door. 

“Got it, no problem.” 

Your co-workers’ plan to go out for drinks has been canceled, and you sit at your desk trying to finish up your sales work as fast as possible. 

“Hey.” 

You swivel around in your chair to face Wanda who has her arms crossed over her baby blue button-up shirt, looking stressed.

“Hey, are you ok?” you reply. 

“Oh, oh, yeah, I’m fine,” she waves her hand. “Weren’t you going out for a drink with everyone?”

“Oh, no, the plans got canceled.” 

She frowns. “I’m sorry that’s a bummer.” 

You chuckle. “No worries, Wanda, I think I’ll be ok.” 

She lets out a laugh. “Yeah, sorry,” she looks around. “Hey, are you, uh, um-” she points towards the door. 

“Walking out?” you supply with a smile. 

She grins. “Yeah, that.” 

“Yes I am, Maximoff. Wanna go together?” 

She purses her lips and nods. 

You start packing up your stuff while Wanda waits for you, but suddenly you both hear an aggressive honk outside. 

You pause to pack up your stuff. “Oh, shoot, Vision.” 

She looks at you apologetically, “yeah, sorry, Y/N. Have a nice weekend!” she tells you before turning around and running off to meet Vision in his car. 

“You too,” you tell her, leaning back in your chair.  

You sigh as you watch the girl you’ve been in love with for 7 years go home to her stupid fiance.

part 2

[kitchenwitchtingss]

50 KITCHEN WITCH TIPS TO MAKE YOU FEEL MORE WITCHY

(And other useful things I've learned over the years)

Hi! This is a list of dos, don'ts, tips, tricks, and other fun things that I've learned over the years. I always love finding more effective and efficient ways of doing things so if you have any cool things you'd like to add, leave them in the comments or reblog. I'd love to read it.

Anyways... On with the list ^_^

Light candles around your kitchen space (just make sure nothing flammable is near you)

Annotate your cookbooks with the correspondence of the ingredients.

Mediating is really good to calm the mind before cooking.

Cut oranges and lemons thinly, dry them, and hang them with twine around your kitchen

Need a cleansing tip? Open all your windows near your kitchen. Let some fresh air in.

Cutting sigils into apples, pie crusts, and carved potatoes.

Save lemon and orange rinds, freeze them, and then use them to clean the garbage disposal.

Make infused oils and honey: Things like garlic honey, lavender honey, herb oil, sun oil, moon oil, dandelion oil, and other different edible oils are very fun and useful to make.

Hid sigils in pages of your cookbooks and kitchen witch journals.

Add some plants! Snake plants and spider plants don't need too much light, and growing your own herbs in your kitchen is awesome too. Basil, lavender, thyme, aloe vera, rosemary, etc. are good fits. You could also add some plants that require more sunlight on the kitchen window sill. Like cacti and succulents.

Bring crystals into your kitchen space such as rose quartz, clear quartz, amethyst, or whatever you want the space's intentions to be.

I keep a small money tree on the sill, along with cacti for luck and protection.

Make a simmer Pot! Mostly because it makes the whole house smell good, easy, and fun.

Stir clockwise for best results!

Learning how to pickle things is actually pretty witchy. Plus, anyone could do it as it requires absolutely no kitchen experience. You could pickle any vegetable, even if you don't like pickles. I originally learned this after having to take shelter from a natural disaster. A person brought a bunch of stuff and taught us how to pickle things with different spices and herbs. Very fun!

Decorate your kitchen with your favorite stuff. Crystals, decor, heat mits, that cool mushroom cake stand you've been eyeing at the World Market for the past 2 weeks, cool looking curtains, sun catchers. Why stop there? Paint the walls, hang shelves full of marked-up cookbooks that are a little too well-loved and thumbed through.

Wanna be the person that has the amazing-smelling house every time people come over? Syrups take some time to simmer down, it's actually a pretty good time to leave it on the stove to simmer. Since syrups have a lot of aromatic ingredients, it acts as a really good-smelling simmer pot.

Hang up herbs to dry with twine from cabinets that are rarely used.

Invest in that new set of plates and cups.

Homemade jams, butter, sauces, and syrups are your best friend.

Crochet or knit your own dish rags, pot holders, etc.

Don't pour extremely hot things into a glass that's not Pyrex, it will break, and you will be very sad about it.

Don't cook anything while extremely upset or emotional (For safety reasons)

Make recipes you want to make, not just because you'll like the effect. Make it because you think it's tasty.

Chinese Five Spice works in place of herbs for protection and luck spells a lot of the time! It's cheaper to buy 1 spice than 4 different spices that total up to 15 dollars when you could just spend 3-4 dollars.

Take a shower before cooking (I don't know how to explain this one other than it makes you feel better)

Don't use microfiber/plastic material clothes on hot burners, it will fuse to the burner and melt. It is VERY hard to get off.

I don't know if I need to put this one but I did see someone do it so nonstick pan = wooden utensils and plastic utensils, metal pan = metal utensils. Do not use a metal spoon in a nonstick pan, please. It can make you very sick.

Keep your pets away from hot oil, open ovens, and hot pans.

You can proof bread dough in the fridge overnight if you don't have the time to bake, or want to eat fresh bread right in the morning.

Need a quick witchy meal for dinner in 12 minutes? Use premade tomato pasta sauce and doctor it up with thyme, rosemary, and garlic, for protection and distilling stagnant energies. Serve with pasta of your liking.

You can substitute Butter for Crisco/shortening, buttermilk for 1 cup of milk + 1 tbsp apple cider vinegar or lemon juice, and heavy cream for 1 cup of half and half plus 2 tbsp of butter.

Use leftover animal bones to make bone broth

Teach yourself the art of bread scoring (It's fun, and you can show it off to your loved ones!)

Collect and hoard your own and others' family recipes.

Sometimes the food doesn't have to be a spell, sometimes it just makes you feel good and you don't know why.

Listen to your favorite music in the kitchen, it makes the monotonous things like chopping veggies move faster.

Invest in a vegetable chopper if you don't like chopping vegetables.

Find a really good hot cocoa recipe and make it once a week. Master it. Just for your own happiness because hot cocoa is really good. You could also be the friend/family member that makes the best hot cocoa ever.

Focaccia Bread Lasts a very long time, and it's very easy to make!

Keep a first aid kit near where the oven is, in case of burns, cuts, or serious injuries where time is everything.

Quick Bread and no-rise loaves are simple for beginners, tasty, and take little time. They also feel very witchy to make.

Study a bit of Herbalism! It's fun and really helps better understand the herbs you're putting into your food.

While something is boiling, put your wooden spoon over the pot to minimize the chance of something boiling over.

Try a bit of coffee magick, it's simple to get into, and gives you a boost of energy to take on the day!

If you're over 21, wine-making is a very interesting way to celebrate the sabbats. Just with that, make sure you KNOW what you're doing. With anything fermented, there's always a risk if you don't store things correctly. Apple wines, strawberry wines, dandelion wines, etc. all very cool to experiment with. If you're not over 21, vinegar is a similar way to experiment.

Hang up some witchy things, sigils, photos, cool magnets, and other things that give you joy on your fridge. (Sometimes if you are lucky they have some fun magnets at five below)

If you live in the US, for some reason, there are a lot of books in the book section dedicated to witchcraft and spirituality. At least where I live. And they are all under 5 dollars!

Teas are the cheapest and easiest things you can practice being a kitchen witch.

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Blurbs: Angel Eyes

————————————————————————-

Summary: You attempt to prank Joe, but his angel-like eyes and all-convincing pout have your prank backfiring.

Warnings: Fluff, pranks!

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine Universe: Into the Mystic

A/N: Part 5 of blurb night!

————————————————————————-

No particular date for this blurb!

“Dinner time!” - you

Grinning as I paused the music playing over my speaker, I couldn't help but feel nothing but happiness watching my three boys run into the kitchen from the living room.

“Looks great, baby.” - Joe smiled

“Thanks, but I'm sure it won't look too good when you're cleaning it off plates later.” - you

“I don't care, that's our rule. If someone fixes it, the other cleans it. If we both cook, we both clean.” - Joe

I stood on my tiptoes and gave him a big kiss.

“Crap, I forgot drinks.” - you mumble, sighing

“You sit down, I’ll get ��em.” - Joe

Before doing as Joe said, I got the twins into their booster seats and then sat down myself.

Joe walked back into the dining room just a moment later, his big hands allowing him to hold all four cups.

“Thanks.” - you

“Of course.” - Joe

Joe then put food onto all our plates, taking one of my hands in his when we started eating.

“Love you.” - Joe

“Love you too.” - you

——

After dinner, it was bath time for Tyson and Miles.

“We seriously need to order wet suits.” - Joe

“Why?” - you laughed

“They splash!” - Joe

“Oh, suck it up. Let's go.” - you

The tub was filled moments later, and Tyson and Miles climbed in. They were still young enough to bathe together - not like they would agree to do it separately anyway.

“Look!” - Tyson

Ty held up one of the plastic bath toys in Joe’s face, showing off his little tiger toy.

“That’s cool buddy. It’s like the mascot for the Bengals.” - Joe

“Yup!” - Tyson

Joe grabbed their mini basketball hoop out of the bath toy drawer and suction-cupped it to the shower wall.

“Can you make a basket, bubs?” - you

I handed Miles a mini-basketball, and he nodded and launched the ball across the shower.

Somehow making it in, Joe looked at me shocked.

“Gah-lee! Draft him to the league.” - Joe

“He’s got a cannon of an arm like his daddy does.” - you winked

Joe smiled and playfully rolled his eyes, handing Tyson a ball in the process.

“Let's start actually washing.” - you laughed

——

After getting the twins completely washed off and dried Joe and I headed to their room to get them dressed and ready for bed.

They wore matching pajamas, of course.

Miles and Tyson climbed into Tyson’s bed like they did every night for Joe to tell them a story. I laid down next to them and buckled up for the story Joe was about to tell.

“What kind of story do you guys want to hear tonight?” - Joe

“Lo- ve.” - Tyson

“A love story?” - you

Tyson nodded, so Joe continued.

“Okay. I’ll tell you my favorite one.” - Joe

He grinned, and not only did I know his devious smile was directed towards me, but I knew it meant he was up to something.

“One day, this boy, we’ll name him Joe, went to school.” - Joe

“That's your name!” - Miles

I immediately knew where this was headed, and I felt butterflies swarm my stomach.

“Yup. It was the first day of his senior year of high school. Not thinking much, he went to his first-period class. His teacher always made a boy and a girl sit together, and Joe thought he’d hate it, but it ended up being the best thing to ever happen to him.” - Joe

Both of the boys gasped, making Joe chuckle before he continued.

“Joe found his seat and saw that a girl he'd never seen before was sitting there. He thought she was beautiful, but Joe was focusing on football. Joe would soon find out that her name was y/n.” - Joe

“Like Mommy!” - Miles

“Yup, like Mommy. Joe and y/n talked the entire class, and they did that every day. They quickly realized that they had a lot in common and became best friends. Fast forward a bit, y/n wins homecoming queen, and Joe escorts her on the field. There, y/n called Joe her best friend… and told him that he was cute.” - Joe

There was another gasp from the twins, and I rolled my eyes with a smile on my face.

“Woah!” - Tyson

“I know, right? Not too long before that, Joe realized that he had a crush on her, but he just didn't know how to drop hints. After a little brainstorming, Joe asked y/n to the dance at school, but she already had a date.” - Joe

“Oh no!” - Tyson

“That's what Joe thought too, but the dance ended up being the best day of Joe’s life. The guy y/n went to the dance with ditched her, and Joe went alone. Y/n found Joe walking around in the hallways by himself, and she asked if he wanted to go see which teachers left their classroom doors open. Joe said yes, and y/n held his hand as they walked through the hallways. The chemistry door was open, which was the class they met in. They sat down at their table, and Joe realized it would be the perfect time to tell her how he felt. Joe told y/n he liked her, and y/n liked Joe too.” - Joe

Another gasp from Miles and Tyson, and I giggled at the look on their faces as Joe told the story of him and I getting together.

“Joe then asked y/n to be his girlfriend, and she said yes. Guess what happened next.” - Joe

“What?” - Miles

“They kissed.” - Joe

“Ew!!” - Miles

“Aww!” - Tyson

I laughed at their differing opinions, which were stated at the same time, and Joe did too, before giving me a wink.

“They live happily ever after?” - Tyson

“Yup. They got married and are still together to this day. They love each other very much. They're parents too, to twin boys.” - Joe

“Like me and Ty?” - Miles

“Mhm, and y/n is pregnant with a baby girl.” - Joe

“Like Mommy!” - Tyson

“Wait… is it about you and Mommy?” - Miles

Joe looked at me with a tiny smile on his face, the bling in his eyes making my heart flutter.

“Yes. That's how we met. The best day of my life.” - Joe grinned

——

“That was super sweet, Joey.” - you

“The story?” - Joe smiled

We had just walked into our bedroom from putting the twins to sleep, and my mind was stuck on Joe retelling the story of how we met.

“Yeah. I'm glad I got it right the first time.” - you

“Get what right?” - Joe

“Picking a boyfriend. We really said one and done.” - you laughed

“For real, but I’m glad too. Thank god for boy-girl seating chart teachers.” - Joe

Joe plopped onto the bed onto his stomach after pulling his shirt off, asking without words for me to lay down and scratch his back.

I walked over and leaned down, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades before waking over to the bathroom.

In our usual routine, Joe and I would shower together. We took the time to share some non-sexual intimacy while spending our uncommon alone time exclusively together.

But today, Joe’s getting pranked.

Walking into the bathroom, I shut the door and locked it behind me.

I rushed to set my phone up to start videoing, then turned the shower on.

Almost instantaneously, Joe was knocking on the bathroom door.

Looking at the camera and laughing, I let him knock a couple of times before opening the door.

“Baby? Are you showering without me?” - Joe

He had his bottom lip stuck out in a pout, giving me his classic pleading angel eyes. Joe knew that combo got him anything.

“I just felt like having some alone time.” - you

Joe’s mouth fell open as he stared at me, honestly looking offended.

“What?” - Joe

“I wanted some alone time.” - you chuckle

“You seriously don't want me to shower with you?” - Joe

I stepped up on my tiptoes and pecked Joe’s lips, patting his chest when I pulled away.

“Maybe next time, babe.” - you

Making sure I was off-camera, I started undressing and the look on Joe���s face made me feel sad.

Once I was fully undressed, I hopped in the glass shower and shut the door behind me.

I looked over at Joe only to find him staring right at me with the same pout on his face.

“Aww, c’mere. I was just joking. You can shower with me, baby.” - you

“That's what I thought.” - Joe mumbled

When Joe undressed and hopped into the shower, I pulled him into my arms and pressed kisses all over his neck and face.

“You were videoing that entire thing weren't you?” - Joe

“Of course.” - you grinned

“You’re going to be the death of me.” - Joe

“Good way to go out though, right?” - you

“The best.” - Joe smiled

————————————————————————-

Authors note: Next fic at 9:25!!!

Requests for this fic;

[skyes-messy-desk]

I left my TENS unit in my dorm and I am devastated, but I have leftover pasta, so I will survive this tragedy. My mental health is going a little bit down again, but I'm distracting myself by jamming to dubstep and planning cute outfits for when I go back to school.

Anyways, I was thinking about "life hacks" and how most of them don't work for my silly little mentally ill brain but I thought I'd share some that actually work for me.

Some of the skincare I use comes in a dropper bottle, but sometimes it takes too much mental energy to actually open it, dispense it, and close it again. I had some small empty pump bottles, so I poured the serums into those and now all I have to do is press the top! It sounds silly but it's helped me so much.

As soon as my dryer is done, I either organize and lay out my clothes on my bed or just dump the whole basket on my bed. Then I can't lay on my bed and be nice and cozy until I actually put my laundry away. This usually works, but sometimes I make a blanket pile of the floor and just sleep down there instead.

I have a really hard time doing dishes, so at my dorm I only have 2 plates, 2 bowls, and a few plastic cups. When I run out of dishes, I know that I can't cook or make good food until I do the dishes. I tend to use plastic silverware or chopsticks, just because I cannot bring myself to eat with silverware that's only been handwashed.

I have plastic bags next to my bed and my desk so that my trash from wrappers and stuff is at least slightly contained, even if it's not in the actual trash can.

I'm super grateful that I have friends who are more mentally well and are able to help me clean and do chores. When my room gets really bad or my dishes pile up, I have people I can call and say "heyyyy can you help me make my room less of a fire hazard and my sink less of an ecosystem" and they say yes and come over to help. It took me a really long time to admit that I needed help with "simple" tasks but once I finally did, it's been a huge weight off my shoulders.

TLDR: do whatever works for you in your environment/situation to make things easier for yourself.

[athenadione]

'overcoming the fear of you and something more'

(What started out as a tiny drabble turned into THIS monstrosity of a fic, and nope I couldn't leave it without adding a little bit of *angst*. I hope you all enjoy, and find that opening yourself up to love isn't always a bad thing ;)

Read on ao3 HERE

Words: 9286

Rated: M

Fear is a fickle thing. 

It’s usually something Raven can never quite grasp. On the rare occasion that she does, by then it evolves into something different, something more. 

Something that she doesn’t want to name. 

And as much as she knows that it has a tendency to manifest in a way she never anticipates, she shoves down that feeling at the dinner table in favor of ignoring it. The less attention she can bring to herself the better. 

Especially since the root of it all is sitting across from her. 

If she could she would be able to rationalize that her conglomeration of emotions are natural — a testament to her humanity rather. It’s good that she’s able to feel things so freely for once, but she can’t think straight right now. 

Not when Damian is helping Mar’i settle back into her high chair, taking extra care to buckle her in and wiping the corner of her mouth with his thumb. 

Her heart pounds in a way that unsettles her deeply at the sight, and she can’t help when her power takes hold of a dish on the counter and slams it back down.  

It’s a good thing it’s plastic. And that Mar’i is used to loud sounds.

Emerald eyes flash to her with immediate concern, along with similar looks from everyone else at the table. 

“Raven, is everything alright?” Richard asks her as Kori takes advantage of a distracted Mar’i with a spoonful of mushy peas in one hand. 

“Ah, yes. I’m sorry,” the scrape of Raven’s chair makes her wince even more apologetically when she scoots back, “let me go set that in the dishwasher.” 

“Oh, just put it in the sink and we’ll get to it later,” Kori says without looking at her, “I have to wash some of Mar’i’s bottles anyway.” 

“You’ve been having more slip ups lately, is something bothering you?” Richard presses further, ever the nosy older brother. 

Knowing that Damian’s eyes are still on her, even as she lowers to her knees to grab the plate off the floor, she takes great care to keep her voice even. 

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me. It’s probably just a cold or something, you know I’ve been sneezing more lately.” That much was true. The turn of the season to Spring left something to be desired — which was clear sinuses. Raven was as surprised as everyone else to find out that a half-demon could get allergies. So lame.  With the attention focused solely on her, Raven feels her desperation rising to change the subject. She clears her throat after placing the plate into an already full sink, 

“So have you both figured out if you’re able to make Gar’s wedding?” 

Richard chews the side of his lip, casting a glance to Kori before answering, “We think we can make it, but we’re not completely sure. I heard Jamie is going with his new fiancée.” 

Raven raises a brow, “I didn’t know he had one.” 

“We just found out this week,” Kori tells her, still battling Mar’i over the peas, “she seems nice, but we haven’t met her yet. She’s from his hometown.” 

“Hmm.” Raven slides back into her seat, both hands going straight for her cup of tea. The conversation continues with Richard and Kori talking back and forth about Gar’s wedding plans with Terra. Apparently they finally decided on a venue out on the Grand Canyon. Raven thinks it’s fitting. 

By the time her nerves settle enough to pick up her fork to continue with her chicken alfredo, she sees that Mar’i’s attention is back on Damian. Her little fingers reach for the necklace around his shirt, grasping the chain she knows has two dog tags on them — both with written words in Arabic. Raven hadn’t gotten close enough to try to read them. Not that she’s fluent anyway. 

The slight burrow of Damian’s brows is the only sign of his hesitancy towards the little girl. Raven watches as he drops his own fork, then attempts to gently pry Mar’i’s fingers from them. Instead of letting go completely, Mar’i decides to grab one of his fingers in all of her tiny ones. 

There’s that funny feeling again, working its way up into a lump in the back of her throat as Damian looks down at their hands in a quiet wonder. Kori smothers a laugh while Richard watches, looking strangely proud. 

“She loves her Uncle Dami,” Richard says, chuckling when Damian sends a bewildered look his way. He motions back down to Mar’i’s fingers. 

“They’re so… small,” he says, looking back to their joined hands. 

“I know right? It’s crazy. I still can’t believe that we have her sometimes, it’s so unreal. Being a parent is…” 

“Unlike anything I could have ever imagined,” Kori finishes, a faraway smile on her face. Mar’i swings her head back over to her mother, babbling in confirmation. Richard chuckles at the noise.

“One-hundred percent.” 

Raven swallows hard. 

The rest of dinner goes as smoothly as she can expect with the growing storm of emotions threatening to spill over with every stolen glance to the pair across from her. She forces herself to eat, if just to stop anyone else from asking too many questions. 

Her mind drifts as the conversation takes another turn. To her friends. To everyone that had scattered with the winds over the years. Gar to adventure with Terra wherever they wanted — and about to be married. Kori and Richard, now settled in Blüdhaven with Mar’i. Even Jamie, apparently finding love in his hometown. 

Damian had stayed with her in Jump. As much as she wanted to ask why back then when the Titans officially disbanded years ago, she still hasn’t.

Mostly because she’s not sure she’s ready to hear his answer. 

Dinner is over when Mar’i begins to fuss, and it heightens to the point that she can’t be consoled. She doesn’t want to listen to the Tameranean lullabies of her mother, or the soft rocking of her father. She doesn’t want the warm milk Richard heats up for her, or even the pacifier that Kori tries to stick in her mouth. As time goes on and her parents run out of options, nothing seems to quiet her down. 

Raven’s eyes soften in understanding that sometimes you don’t know what you want or need. 

Raven takes the time to clean up after everyone while the screaming ensues, waving Kori off when she thanks her profusely and apologizes all in the same breath. Richard walks away further into the house, most likely in search of something to help calm Mar’i down. 

“No worries at all, truly. Thank you for inviting us over,” Raven responds in earnest. 

The invites had started to climb since Mar’i was born. It’s easier to invite them because of her ability to create portals. And the boom tube of course, with one now built inside of their home for easy travel. Still, Raven figures that both Kori and Richard haven’t had a night out in months. It’s probably also easier to have Mar’i at home, and Raven doesn’t mind in the slightest. 

Except for the little moments that throw her off balance until she’s teetering off the edge into something she doesn’t understand. 

Which has inadvertently caused her current predicament. 

So focused on her own thoughts and rinsing off plates, Raven nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels a hand at her lower back. She doesn’t have to look behind her to know it’s Damian. 

His touch burns her through the silk shirt of her blouse. 

“Let me help,” he says, rolling up the sleeves of his button-up and his arm brushes against hers. The grip on her sponge slackens as a familiar heat runs through her. She takes a step to the side. 

“I’m okay, you can—”

“Take her, please. I don’t know what else to do.” Kori unceremoniously pushes Mar’i up against Damian’s chest, and he’s forced to put his arms around her to keep her from falling. 

“Just hold her for a minute while I run her a bath, that usually helps calm her down.” Kori runs away just as fast as she came, yelling across her shoulder, “Thank you!” 

Mar’i’s face is an angry red as hot tears roll down her face. Damian wraps a hand around the back of her head to keep her secure against his chest while the other settles against her bottom. For a minute or two all either of them can hear is her high-pitched screaming. Raven holds back a grimace. 

Then Damian starts to hum a low, foreign tune, while patting her bottom gently. 

Raven chokes back on a suggestion, enamored by the way Damian seems to immediately calm her. 

Mar’i hiccups, tears still falling but not as frequent as Damian continues his hum in her ear. It’s some kind of lullaby, that much she can tell. Mar’i moves her head to stare up at him with big eyes, just as bright as her mother’s. 

Damian gently nudges her to settle her back against his chest in a move that makes her sigh with another hiccup. As Raven continues to clean up the kitchen by finding the tupperware and putting up the leftovers, Damian continues to hum and pat in a rhythm that quickly puts Mar’i to sleep. 

The room falls silent while Raven sets the dishwasher to start. She glances back over in time to watch Damian place the smallest of kisses against Mari’i’s head. 

It’s such a small and intimate gesture that takes Raven by surprise. It’s genuine, and raw, and the open look on his face nearly undoes her. Seeing this side of Damian with Mar’i only further threatens the hold over her power. She yanks back on the transparent black that encases a cup she missed, hoping that Damian doesn’t notice. 

One look behind her shoulder tells her that he does. 

“Grayson’s right. You have been on edge lately, any reason why? And don’t tell me it’s allergies because we both know that you were lying earlier.” 

Raven just barely holds back her wince. She doesn't know why she ever thought she’d get something past him. For all the years they’ve spent together at the tower, she knows he can now read her like a book. 

In fact, he knows exactly how she takes her tea, what time she likes to meditate in the afternoons. He even knows when she’s starting to get a migraine by the extra gel ice pack she finds in the freezer. 

A frown tugs at the corners of her mouth. 

He knows her. 

So why does that terrify her so much?

“Honestly there’s just been a lot on my mind…” her voice falters, not able to meet his eyes because she knows he’ll see the half-truth in that statement. 

“Raven…” 

The sounds of her name from his lips brings her eyes right back up to his. 

She knows he won’t push her — that he’ll always defer to her choice when to speak her mind. She also knows that he allows her to hear the concern in his voice just as he can hear the uncertainty is hers. 

She starts to chew the inside of her cheek, a habit she had picked up after gaining the freedom to express her emotions more. A nervous one that Damian knows from the way his brows knit further together. She sighs, opting to ignore the question altogether and focus the attention back on Mar’i. 

“I’m impressed, and a little jealous that you’re so good with her,” she admits jokingly.  

Damian sees through her blatant attempt at avoiding him, but thankfully he allows it. 

“I’m not sure why all it took was me holding her,” he admits.

“Maybe because of your energy. You’re always calm and so sure of yourself.” It’s just a theory but Raven has a hunch Mar’i might already be stepping into some of her power.  

“I imagine Mar’i might be able to sense that.” 

Damian looks at her, his face now unreadable, and Raven can tell that he’s analyzing her words  — trying to figure out what exactly they mean.

No doubt from years of back-handed compliments from not only the press but also the socialites of high society as a Wayne. She briefly remembers an encounter with a Calloway that left with the blonde man on the floor of the Wayne Manor ballroom clutching his nose and loudly cursing. If Raven was correct, Damian had simply rolled his sleeve back down and walked promptly outside to the balcony, ignoring the stares that followed. 

But there was no ill intent to her words now. 

“I’m serious. Mar’i seems to be a bit of an empath in my opinion.” 

“Hmm, maybe.” Damian says, although still unconvinced. Raven shrugs, then resists the urge to bite her lip, looking for a reason to cut their conversation short. She doesn’t want them to circle back to talking about her just yet. 

“I’ll go look for Kori, maybe since Mar’i is asleep they’ll want to put her down.” 

Damian nods, still patting the little girl in his arms in fear that she may wake again. Raven tears her gaze from him, if a bit reluctantly, and goes in search of her friend. 

Raven had always felt close with Kori, even as a younger teen when trust didn’t come easy. Kori tore down her walls just as quickly as Raven had tried to build them back up. She paved the bridge of friendship between them and after a while Raven stopped running from it. 

Now, with a little care and communication, they had grown together in a way that Raven thinks fondly of. 

Yet with the closeness that Raven feels with Kori now, she can’t quite bring herself to talk about what’s been bothering her. Not that she’s figured it out herself. To be fair she hasn’t really tried, and has been avoiding thinking about it more than anything. But dinner has suddenly brought it to the forefront, and the only thing that she now knows for certain is that Damian is at its centerfold. 

Raven finds Kori in the guest bathroom, kneeling over the tub on her knees as it’s filling with water. She gives her back a soft smile, feeling the exhaustion in her aura weighing on her. 

“Hey Kori,” Raven says gently to not startle her, “Mar’i fell asleep on Damian’s chest. I came to see if you wanted him to help you put her down in her crib.”

Kori’s relief from her words is immediate, “Oh yes that would be perfect. I’ll go get them, thank you Raven — and don’t think I didn’t hear you cleaning up in the kitchen. I hope you know we didn’t invite you over just to clean. Not that I’m not grateful of course, but you’re our guests.” 

Raven waves off her concern, “You know I didn’t feel obligated in the slightest, now go ahead and get Mar’i. I’m sure you and Dick are ready to settle down for the night.” 

“I’ve only slept five hours in the past three days. I. Am. Dying.” 

The graying circles under her eyes are more prominent now that Raven gives a closer look, although with her tangerine colored skin it looks more purple than anything. Still, she can’t help but feel a little bad for her.  

“Maybe you can get a night’s rest tonight.” Raven tells her with a hand on her shoulder in sympathy. It’s a fool’s hope really with a one-year old, but Raven still thinks it’s worth saying. 

“A woman can dream,” Kori snorts, then covers Raven’s hand with her own. “Thank you.” 

“Of course.” 

As Kori leaves Raven cuts off the water and pulls the plug. She has a feeling Mar’i will be skipping bath night as long as she sleeps soundly — and if Damian has anything to do with putting her down for the night, she will. 

The thought of him again disquiets her. With a quick flick of the bathroom light, she strays back towards the living room and decides to take a seat on the couch to wait for them. At this point she knows it’s better to just stay out the way. Cleaning was the best way she could think of to help. 

After a moment Damian walks back in alone while running a hand through the dark curls in his hair. 

“She’s down. Kori and Richard are already in bed too. I think it’s okay to leave now.” 

Raven nods and stands. Wordlessly she creates a portal back to their home at Titan’s tower. Even though they did disband years ago, it’s the only place that feels welcoming enough to stay. 

Slipping through a wormhole of her own power always raises gooseflesh on her arms. It pulses through her veins when they both step in and back out in the common room. 

Tonight it’s empty, but in a few days all of their friends will be in to visit just before the wedding. Somehow Raven had been roped into teleporting them all to the Grand Canyon the day of. She has a sneaking suspicion it’s more of an excuse for them to all be together in one place again — not that she minds. 

She admits that she misses it all. Wait —

“I thought Jason and Rose were supposed to be coming in early before everyone else, shouldn’t they be here by now?” Raven asks. 

The thud against a wall in a room further down the hallway is her answer. Damian scowls while Raven suppresses a smirk. “Well it’s a good thing there’s a guest masterbath in the bedroom I think they're in. We won’t have any awkward run-ins with each other.” 

Damian snorts, “I’m glad that you’re able to see the positive in this, because I can’t.” 

Raven hums in amusement, “There’s no other way to look at it now that they’re here.” She steps into the kitchen, “Tea?” 

“Sure, I could use some before I go out on patrol.” 

Starting the kettle is easy work, and the habitual movements help to ease her mind. Setting it on the stove, she reaches for two cups and grabs a packet of black tea and chamomile. Damian doesn’t have to tell her that black is his favorite, she just knows. 

Sometimes it surprises her by how easy it is to talk to Damian, and the irony of that thought is not lost on her when dinner was so… unexpected. 

“I’m thinking about inviting Kori and Rose to a girl’s night before the wedding. I think Kori needs a night out, and since Rose is here now I don’t want to leave her out.”

“Oh?” Damian raises his brow when he takes a seat on the stool in front of the island. “That could be… interesting.” 

The corners of her mouth quirk together as she turns the dial to turn the heat to high on the stovetop. 

“I just want her to be able to relax for a bit, and maybe talk with her about a few things…” her voice trails as she traces the marble in the countertop. “After tonight, do you think you could offer to watch Mar’i? Or even just go over to the house with Richard to keep him company. I’m sure —”

"Yes I can do that, just let me know what day.” 

  His quick response to her surprises her, and she thinks of calling him out on it but decides not to in the end. She’s sure he has his own reasons for helping too. 

“Thank you, hopefully Kori will be up for it. I’ll check in with her tomorrow after she’s had more sleep.”

“Good idea.” 

After that she brews in silence as Damian reviews the routes on his communicator for the night. They tend to alternate a couple of different pattern types, and have had to make some changes to include the docks for the next couple of weeks. Receiving an anonymous tip that a ‘deal’ was about to go down in the next week or so kept them extra alert. The details of that deal? Well neither of them have a clue, which is just a little worrisome. 

Raven pours Damian’s tea into a to-go tumblr when it’s finished, knowing that he’ll want to take it with him. 

She meets his eyes at the hand off, the brush of his fingers against hers sending a sharp tingle up her arm. 

“Thank you,” he says, already making his way to the boom tube off in the corner of the common room that had just been recently installed. 

Raven hesitates for a moment, the thought of the docks heavy on her mind, before she calls after him. 

“Damian.” she waits until he twists back to her. His domino mask is already covering his eyes. 

“... be careful.” 

He actually smirks. “No promises.” 

The flash of the boom tube declares his departure before she can respond. She rolls her eyes at his absence anyway. 

There goes the root of all my troubles, off to make even more trouble. 

Her hands cup her tea, taking a small comfort in the warmth it provides her. 

What am I going to do with you?

.

It turns out Kori had been itching for a night without Mar’i. 

Making plans had been easy enough. 

Rose had wanted to go bar-hopping, and Kori wanted to bring over her new crochet projects. Raven decided on a compromise — a night in the common room. With lots of alcohol. And pizza. 

It had taken both Rose and Kori awhile to warm up to each other and find some common ground, but after an hour or two everyone’s now laughing at one another in good fun. Raven’s sure the alcohol has more to do with it than anything else. 

“Okay, so maybe a night in isn’t so bad.” Rose says, bending forward for another slice. The three of them had ended up on the floor of the common room, pizza boxes and wine bottles alike spread out. The heated flush of Raven’s cheeks is the only indication of her intoxication. Well, that and the wobble walk back from the bathroom. She plops down next to Rose with a chuckle from her lack of grace, waving at Kori with encouragement to go for another glass. 

“I’m so glad we have Mar’i on formula now,” Kori tells them when she takes a sip straight from the bottle of sangria, “I’ve missed wine.” 

Rose makes a face, “What I’m hearing is don’t have babies.” She barks out a laugh when Kori reaches across the pizza boxes to smack her arm. 

“Mar’i is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. We’re just struggling with getting her on a sleep schedule. Once we do that I swear babies aren’t difficult at all. It was really nice of Damian to babysit with Dick tonight so that I could come over.”

Rose gives Raven a knowing look, “Yes it was, wasn’t it? I heard about dinner the other night. Mar’i seems to love Wayne.” 

“Yes definitely, he’s —” 

“Speaking of Wayne!” Rose cuts Kori off in favor of turning directly to Raven, “What is this weird thing-not-thing going on between the two of you? It’s driving me crazy staying with you in this damn tower.” 

In hindsight, Raven should have known that Rose would pick up on her sensitivity. At least some of it anyway. The interactions between her and Damian a few days after dinner had been amicable of course, but Damian had known she'd been acting strange here and there for a while. Raven responded in kind, retreating to what she knew best and avoiding him when she could. Solitude in the face of internal conflict will always be her greatest ally. 

Raven frowns into her glass, deciding to take another gulp of her own wine. “What do you mean? Nothing’s going on between us. We’re just —”

“Don’t even say ‘we’re just friends’. That’s bullshit. Have you seen the way he looks at you Raven? He makes you tea in the morning. Tea! And it’s your favorite too, I noticed.” 

“Oh that?” Kori says flippantly, “They’ve been doing that for years. I thought that finally they’d end up together when everyone else left the tower. Dick thinks it’ll be another year before Raven finally realizes that Damian’s completely in love with her.” 

Even through the haze of her growing intoxication, Raven gives them a glare. “That’s not true. As close as you’re implying we are, wouldn't he have said something to me? And besides, I like our friendship. A lot. I don’t want to jeopardize that.” 

“Damian’s been keeping it to himself for a reason Raven. Everyone knows how skittish you can be about feelings .” Kori bumps her shoulder with a laugh, then takes another swig from her bottle.

“It took us years for you to finally be comfortable even talking to me about things outside of Hero work or me and Dick.”

Raven knocks back the rest of her wine and decides that she needs another glass. “That’s different, you wrangled me into your friendship.” 

Kori looks affronted, mouth poised to argue when Rose cuts her off again, “Yeah I can definitely see that happening. I can picture it now, Kori cornering a young teenage and timid Raven to try and convince her to be best friends.” 

“It didn’t happen like that.” 

Both Raven and Rose stare at her in disbelief at the same time. Kori holds up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, it kind of happened like that but look how it turned out? Better than what I thought.” 

“Hmm, true.”

“So are you into him?” Rose directs the question to her. 

Raven rolls her eyes. “If I tell you I think he’s hot will you stop asking more questions?”

“No, so you do think he’s hot.” 

“I’m not blind Wilson.” 

Hot is more of an understatement in her opinion, and the new suit that Damian had opted to start wearing out on patrol was doing him many favors. Not that she would ever admit that to either of them. That would just be adding more fuel to the fire. 

“So have you fucked him yet?” 

“Rose!” Kori yells at her. 

“What? I’m just curious. Don’t tell me you guys have been living together, alone , for years and haven’t fucked.” 

“No actually, we haven’t.” Raven’s brows knit together as her stomach tightens from something she’s not sure. Annoyance from Rose asking deeply personal questions so casually? Or jealousy at the sudden intrusive thought that maybe Damian has, but with someone else? If so, did he bring her to the tower? 

“So you two haven’t even tried to just have a little fun. You know, do something casual? Like friends with benefits?” Rose asks her. 

“Do you know me? I don’t do casual.” 

“And neither does Damian,” Kori points out. 

“So maybe he’s dating someone.” 

Raven looks back at Rose with a dangerous look. The wine in her system doesn’t help hide her sudden disgust. She ignores the flip of her stomach that feels like nausea at the probability of Rose’s theory. 

“I’m done talking about this.” She says, tone final. “Why don���t we talk about how you and Todd broke in the guest bedroom last night. We could hear you two from the common room.” 

“Damn right, that shit was good too. We haven’t seen each other in months . Some of the best sex I’ve ever had.”  Raven smirks while Kori chokes on her bottle.

Jason and Rose are like fire and air. Mix them together and they become a fire whirlwind, burning everything in its path. It’s passionate, sure, but unpredictable and something that would always keep Raven on edge. 

“Dick and I have barely had sex since Mar’i’s been born,” Kori sighs, “It sucks.” 

“No alcohol or sex? Yeah, I’m never having kids.” 

Kori laughs, “Never say Never Rose, someone might come along and make you eat those words one day.” 

“Gods I hope not.” 

“Who knows, Jason might be working on that right now.” 

The room erupts in laughter, and the conversation only further derails after that. 

.

Raven wakes with a gentle hand on her shoulder. 

With a groan, she blinks groggily as her head spins from the alcohol still thrumming in her body. Somehow she had made it to the couch with Rose at the other end, passed out. 

Scattered pizza boxes litter the floor, one open and empty with the other with a couple pieces remaining. She doesn’t count but she does see a handful of empty wine bottles grouped together in the middle.

She doesn’t see Kori as she scans the room, but her eyes do land on the person that shook her awake. 

Damian. 

His quiet demeanor is a contrast from the clear amusement swimming in his eyes. 

“Where’s Kori?” Raven asks, the sleepiness still evident in her voice. 

“I helped her back home, Grayson has her.” Ah. That explains the fading light of the boom tube in the corner. 

“Oh okay, how’d it go with Mar’i?” she asks, accepting his hand to help her sit up. A wave of vertigo hits her, and she leans heavily on the arm of the couch. 

“It went well,” he takes another glance around the room, “how much did you drink?” he asks, taking note of the way she curls back into herself on the couch. 

“Too much.”

Another voice speaks up behind Damian. “Yeah that checks out, by the wine bottles on the floor I’m sure you’re all still plastered.” 

Jason. 

She turns her attention to the end of the couch where he scoops up Rose effortlessly. She doesn’t even move in the slightest. 

“You’re heavy as shit.” Jason talks down to her, but Raven can see the fondness in his eyes that betrays the truth. Rose isn’t heavy at all, and Jason’s enjoying having her around. 

“See ya Wayne, Raven. Gonna take this one to bed.” 

Damian spares him another glance, “Night.” 

“Don’t you want to sleep in your bed too?” he asks her, leaning over a little closer that makes her heart jump. 

The thought of getting up right now and walking anywhere is so unappealing that Raven burrows back further into the couch. 

“It’s okay, just leave me here. I’m sure I’ll be fine in the morning.” Intoxication didn’t last as long for a half-demon. 

She closes her eyes with a small yawn, sleep threatening to take back over, which is perfectly fine with her. That way she doesn’t have to dissect the way Damian is looking at her right now, another unreadable expression on his face. Reading him had never been easy, but now with her own emotions at war with themselves, they’ve gotten in the way of being able to determine his. 

There’s another moment of silence between them when Raven realizes that Damian is actually weighing the pros and cons of a decision. She opens her mouth, is about to ask him what’s wrong, when he stoops down closer to her. 

One of his arms weaves its way around her waist while the other settles under the back of her knees. 

A small squeak of surprise escapes her when he lifts her, cuddling her body close to his chest. Her arms wrap around his neck instinctually to help stay balanced in his own. 

“You’ll get a cramp in your neck if you sleep here,” he says simply, explaining away the question in her eyes. 

“I can walk to my bedroom if I wanted to Damian,” she reasons with him, though not exactly resisting as he continues to carry her down the hallway. 

“I know,” his breath is warm on her neck, “but you didn’t want to.” 

Raven holds her tongue, only because she knows he’s right — and he does too from the small smirk on his face. Thankfully he doesn’t say anything else when they get to her bedroom, and the door scans her for entry. 

It slides open and Damian steps inside. Raven suddenly feels uncomfortable with him seeing her room. It’s not like he hasn't seen it before. 

But he hasn’t, at least not now that she doesn’t even know what to think of him anymore. Not when she feels so… vulnerable. 

It’s cozy, and packed full of things but not messy. The shelves need dusting, and the books need to be re-stacked. It’s a show of her true nature — organized chaos. Damian doesn’t seem to mind. He only takes a short glance, probably out of her respect for privacy, and walks straight to her bed. 

He helps her slide under the covers, and is careful not to touch her more than necessary. It makes her heart squeeze. This barrier that seems to be growing between them since dinner is unwanted, but she feels helpless to fix. 

Damian hesitates as he leans over her, the closeness between them oddly intimate. She notices his dog tags have slipped out of his shirt, and she impulsively reaches for them. He watches quizzically as her fingers glide over the indentations. 

She doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol, or the sudden change in tension between them, but she finally decides to indulge in her curiosity. 

“What do they say?” she asks him. 

“laā yuhimmu kam ʾanta baṭīʾ ṭaalamā ʾannaka lan tatawaqqaf. It means ‘It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.’” 

The air feels heavy when Raven takes a breath, “and the other one?” 

Damian gives her a look, one that holds too many emotions for her to understand. 

“I’ll tell you what that one means another time.” 

.

For the first time in a long time Titan’s Tower is full of heroes. 

There’s an excited energy all around as the rooms fill with chatter as more and more people begin to show, dressed up for the wedding. Some people hadn’t seen each other in years. 

Raven’s content to keep to herself in one corner of the common room, exchanging pleasantries with the people who approach her. Damian is somewhere in the chaos, but she doesn’t try to look for him yet. Not when just thinking about him is causing her stomach to tie into knots. 

“Hey Raven, it’s good to see you!” 

Raven turns with a smile. “It’s good to see you too Donna, you look great.” Her black dress covered in sequins accentuated her curves in a way that made many heads turn at her arrival. That and her charming personality can make anyone she wants to fall to their knees in front of her. 

“Me? You look breathtaking, girl. Blue is such a good color on you.” 

Raven accepts the compliment with grace, something she’s been working more on doing. She slides a hand over her satin dress. The ends of it reach her toes, with a long slit up one side that gives everyone a slight tease of a long leg. Her black heels only emphasize the swell of her calf, the ankle strap a final touch. 

“Thank you. How are you?”

“Oh fantastic, work has been going well and crime is starting to slow down. Maybe because we’re finally getting some good weather and people want to enjoy it for a change. Who knows. How’s patrol in Jump going? I spoke with Wayne earlier and heard that there might be some kind of trade deal at the docks?” 

“Yeah,” Raven sighs, walking Donna to the kitchen in search of something to drink, “Last night there was some movement, but not much else going on. I’m starting to think it’s all a hoax but I don't know. I guess we’ll find out soon.” 

“Hmm, well there’s no need to worry about it right now. Wayne doesn’t seem too worried about it either so I’m sure it’ll be fine.” 

Raven holds back the retort that she isn’t worried, and that Donna’s the one who brought it up in the first place. 

“Yeah, punch?” Raven asks her, gesturing to the island in the middle of their kitchen. An assortment of light snacks filled the table, along with punch, tea, and water. Raven’s grateful that Kori came over earlier to help her and Damian put it all together. 

“Oh nice, thanks. So…” Donna trails, smiling sheepishly when she accepts the glass Raven hands her, “is Damian seeing anyone by chance?” 

Raven’s hold tightens on her own glass of water she poured for herself. “Not that I’m aware of.” 

“Oh good, I was thinking about asking him out later after the wedding. It’d be nice to catch up in Jump again — see what all’s changed.” 

“Go for it.” Raven clears her throat when Donna gives her an odd look at her curt tone, “I just mean I’m sure he’d… appreciate the company.” 

“Are you sure? Because if you’re —”

Raven’s not exactly sure what Donna is about to say but she doesn’t let her say it at all. “I’m not. You should ask him.” 

Donna blinks, then laughs, “It looks like some things haven’t changed after all. Don’t worry, I won’t.” She throws her a wink, “I’ll see if Roy is free tonight. I’ve always had a thing for red-heads anyway.” 

Raven deigns not to answer, instead taking a long drink of her water. Not because she really needs it but to keep her from revealing anything that might give her away. That and she doesn’t need to explain anything to anyone, not even Donna. 

A quick glance at the microwave tells her that it’s nearly time. She takes a breath, preparing to create a portal that will last long enough for everyone to get through. It will be tenuous at best, but it should work. Should. 

The sound of an announcement in the common room distracts her from her thoughts, especially when a small group starts making their way over to the boom tube.  

“They’re probably lining up for the boom tube since the wedding’s about to begin.” Donna says. 

“Boom tube? I thought that everyone was going through my portal?” 

“I’m not sure,” Donna looks as confused as she feels, “Damian’s been going around the room and assigning a specific time for everyone to go through. A lot of people are already gone.” 

Raven’s eyes dart to the common room that now looks a lot emptier than it had been about five minutes ago. 

“Looks like my time is in another minute,” Donna gives her a wave, “I’ll see you there.” 

Raven tells her bye, and stands there as the rest begin to file out, one by one until there’s only her and Damian. Her eyes meet him across the room before he whips his head in a signal to come join him. She does just that, taking the time to appreciate his suit. 

It’s Armani, of course, black and sleek, and it’s fitted to him perfectly. The pant legs do nothing to hide what’s beneath, and she feels her neck heat at the sight. One hand is tucked into his pocket while the other is holding the boom tube open for the both of them. As she walks closer she realizes that he’s wearing a darker navy blue tie — nearly identical to the color of her dress. 

Only when she reaches him does she ask him why they weren’t going by portal. 

“I didn’t want you to overexert yourself so I had a boom tube placed at the site of the wedding temporarily.” 

His gesture hits her hard, and she doesn’t know what to think when he reaches out his hand for hers. She places it in his delicately as he helps her step up inside. 

“I probably would’ve been fine, you know. I’m sure there wouldn’t have been much to worry about.” 

Damian steps in after her, his chest brushing up against her back as the door slides shut behind them. 

“Well now neither of us have to worry at all.” 

She turns to face him and smiles. 

“Thank you.” 

“Anything for you Raven.” 

Her eyes widen at his words and the blatant truth in his voice. Suddenly the air around them feels hot, and she leans back up against the wall, trying to put as much space in between them as possible. The proximity of him, the small space of the boom tube, his words — it all feels like too much. She feels the familiar tug of her body as they teleport — something that lasts only milliseconds. 

By the time they’re on the other side she’s breathing hard, not feeling like she’s getting enough air. The boom tube isn’t opening fast enough and it’s still too hot. She’s getting lightheaded and the pounding beat of her heart is only getting faster. The door begins to slide open, but before she can slip away Damian has a hand on her wrist. 

He pulls her back inside, shuts the door, and presses the button with the AC. The cool air helps a little, but there’s still a rising panic in her that she can’t tame. Raven has half a mind to slide down the wall to hug her knees but Damian grasps her shoulders, forcing her to face him. 

“Hey Raven, look at me. Look at me.” Emerald eyes search hers imploringly and she chokes back a sob. 

“I-I can’t do this, Damian, I don’t know what’s wrong with —”

“It’s okay. You’re okay,” he says. His words are gentle and soothing as his hands begin to rub her bare arms. Up and down, forcing her to stay tethered to the present. Not allowing her to retreat into her mind. 

“Just breathe, Raven. We’re not going anywhere until you breathe.” 

It takes a few minutes. He starts whispering to her in Arabic, much like the way he took care of Mar’i, and that thought puts a heavy weight on her chest. She breathes through it anyway knowing that the wedding will start at any moment, and she doesn’t want them to be late. When her breaths become more even Damian pulls her into his chest, wrapping her into a hug. 

“Whatever is going on is okay. I’m not going anywhere and neither are any of our friends. You’re okay, and it’s okay that you don’t know what you’re feeling.” 

Raven inhales a shuddering breath. 

She doesn’t know that she needs to hear him say all of those things so desperately until they’re already spoken. She takes a moment to cling to him, to thank him, before pulling back. Whatever Damian sees in her face must be enough for him to deem her capable enough to go back outside because he opens the door. Then he takes her hand again. 

“Watch your step,” he murmurs to her, helping her across the rocks to the venue. The sight of it is breathtaking. An archway is just a couple of feet away from a ledge that overlooks the entire Northern rim, and Raven sees that most of the chairs are already full of their friends. Garfield is already at the front, fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeve and trying not to bite a hole with his canines from worrying his lip in a nervous tic. 

Raven smiles, because even though it’s clear that he’s nervous, she can also tell that he’s happy. It’s all she’s ever wanted for him, and he deserves it. 

They find a seat in the back just before the ceremony begins. Damian puts his hand on the back of her chair, steadying her. For once she decides to lean into it, finding it to be a comfort. 

Terra’s dress suits her perfectly. It’s whimsical with long sleeves that hang off of her shoulder, with the length of her dress flaring out with floral and vine lace covering the bodice. Her hair is braided down her back with a string of hair pulled out and curled around her face. She’s gorgeous, and she can tell that Gar thinks so too. The love and excitement is pure in both of their eyes solely focused on each other. 

The ceremony doesn’t last long, but it is beautiful and genuine, and Raven stands and claps with everyone else as the newly weds are announced. Terra and Garfield practically race back down the aisle. 

It’s a welcoming sight. Raven smiles softly the entirety of the reception, even when meeting Jamie’s fiancée. From the moment she sees them she knows it’s a good match. 

“They look good together,” Damian says from beside her with two glasses of water in each hand. He gives one to her. 

“Yes, they do. I’m sure we’ll be getting another invitation soon.” 

“How are you feeling?” he asks her. 

“I’m okay actually. Thank you… for earlier.” She runs a nervous hand down the length of her dress to smooth it out. 

“You don’t ever have to thank me Raven.” 

He stays with her the rest of the night, which more than a few people notice, Donna included. When she smirks in Raven’s direction she doesn’t even scowl back. 

For some reason her mind is more at ease than it has been in weeks. 

.

The trade at the docks happens the next night. 

It’s around 3 o’clock in the morning whenever a small fishing boat slips up with the mooring line. Three people, dressed head to toe in black, get out with multiple coolers that look dubious. Mostly likely drugs . Then from the right, five more meet them on the dock, dressed the same. 

Damian signals to her from the other side of the building, and she nods her understanding. She presses the button on her cloak silently, alerting the JCPD of their location. 

They take them by surprise, but they recover quickly. A few of them barricade behind barrels while Damian starts to fight off the three that are scrambling back inside the boat. 

It’s not until Raven hears the first gunshot when she realizes they all have weapons. 

It takes her another moment to realize the gun had been aimed at her whenever the sharp pain flares at her side, and her hand presses it. When she brings it back up to her face shakily it’s covered in blood. 

Then more start to ring out, and Raven drops to her knees. She remembers that Damian is on the other side of the group of thugs still fighting on the boat. He hadn’t seen her get shot, still hasn’t had the time to even look in her direction. She tosses up a quick shield just before bullets rain down in his direction. They bounce off her shields uselessly and Raven releases a breath she doesn’t realize she’s holding. 

Another wave of her power throws everyone in the crossfire back. Some hit the water with a loud splash while others scrape up against concrete away from the docks. Damian takes advantage of the momentary distraction, apprehending everyone still on the ground with quick, practiced motions. 

Raven attempts to stand, but stumbles back to her knees. She feels around the wound, her finger prodding for the bullet that’s still lodged inside. She bites back a cry at the pain, her teeth gritting. It will need to come out before she can heal herself, but she’s starting to lose more blood than she’s comfortable with. She takes off her cloak. The material is too strong to tear so she wraps the entire thing around her waist anyway. It will have to do. 

As Damian pulls the last one out of water and throws him on the ground, black spots are beginning to dance in her vision. 

She can hold on until he finishes the job. They’ve been looking into this lead for weeks, she won’t ruin it all by letting him know that she’s bleeding out. I can make it. 

Squatting is no longer an option. Raven finds herself forced to lay down on the concrete, her hand tucked into her side to staunch as much of the blood as she can. The pain heightens to a point that makes the rest of her body feel numb. 

She clings to consciousness as long as she can, until she’s sure that Damian has arrested them all. The police will be here at any moment and can take over. 

By the time Damian finally looks up and is searching for her the adrenaline wears off. All she feels is pain, so whenever unconsciousness calls back out to her she answers. 

He finds her as she’s losing the battle. 

“Shit, shit. Raven!” 

She’s fading rapidly when he reaches her. One hand cradles the back of her head while the other presses into her wound. She hisses weakly. 

His voice sounds like it’s underwater. 

“Hold on Raven, not yet,” he presses on her wound more insistently, the pain causing her to stay conscious. Then he’s pulling out gauze and hydrogen peroxide and medical scissors from his belt. 

His words are rushed and thick with emotion, “I need you to stay awake, you’re losing too much blood. You have to portal us to the med-bay now. You won’t make it if you don’t.” 

It sounds like too much, every breath is more agonizing and tiresome than the last. 

“ Please habibti, you have to try.” 

Her eyes open at the pleading in his voice.

With her remaining strength she does her best to meet his request, and portals them back to the tower. 

The look in his eyes is the last thing that she sees before she drowns in a sea of darkness. 

Fear.

.

There’s no noise when she wakes. 

She’s in her healing trance, hovering above the hospital bed. By the familiarity of the metal walls she knows that they made it to the med-bay. A sweep of the room also tells her that she almost didn’t make it. Blood covered just about every instrument. The bullet lays in a tray beside her. She looks down at herself, noticing for the first time that she’s not wearing anything except for a pair of sweatpants. Her entire upper body is covered in gauze. Specks of blood dot where she had been shot. She won’t need to change it again fortunately, her healing trance had made sure of that. 

Her eyes continue to scan the room until she sees Damian, hunched over in a chair right beside her. His head is in his hands, not yet knowing that she’s awake. His hair is askew. She imagines that he probably ran his hands through it over and over. He’s still wearing his uniform, covered in her blood. Guilt sweeps through her, knowing that she’s the cause of so much worry. 

“Damian,” she whispers. 

He jolts upright so fast that the metal chair falls backwards. He doesn’t care, his eyes are on hers as he grasps her hand. 

“Raven, you made it,” he chokes on his words. “Do you need me to change your dressing?” 

“No I don’t think so.” she tells him softly, then lowers herself on the bed to lay down. He helps her adjust. “I think I’ll be sore for a while, but I’m okay. Thank you for saving me.” 

He sighs deeply, “You scared me Raven. Never do that again. Never wait to tell me if you’ve been hurt. You could have died. You almost did .” 

“I know,” she whispers, squeezing his hand, “I’m sorry.” 

They’re silent for a few minutes, with Damian stroking her hand with his fingers. She lets him, figuring that he needs the touch to remind himself that it was just a close call, nothing more. 

“Did the JCPD get all the arrests?” she asks, breaking the silence. 

“Yeah,” Damian says, pinching the bridge of his nose with his other hand, “They found fentanyl in the coolers. Enough to OD the entire city. Interrogations are going on right now. They think they’re just pawns in a much bigger drug deal.” 

“That makes sense,” she says, chewing on his words, “Looks like almost dying was worth it.” She jokes darkly. 

“No,” He shoots her a sharp glare, “Almost losing you was not worth it Raven. It will never be worth it. When will you realize that?” 

The veracity in his words is like a slap in the face. She recoils at them. “I’m sorry Damian, I was just trying to do the right thing.” 

He breathes deep, seemingly at war with himself on how to respond. He settles for acceptance. “I know you did, I’m not going to say that it was okay, because it wasn’t. But it happened, and at least you’re here. Just don’t do that again.” 

She swallows the lump in the back of her throat. “Okay.” 

“Get some rest, I’m glad you’re okay.” 

“Thank you Damian, I am too.” 

.

Damian isn’t there when she wakes, but this time she’s in her own bed. She smiles softly, knowing that Damian probably wanted her to be more comfortable, but also didn’t want to intrude in her space. 

A familiar feeling blossoms in her chest that Raven wants to pull back down, but she doesn’t. She lets it stay, and the longer it does, the more she realizes it’s not as scary as she thinks it is. 

It grows with each thought of the past few weeks. All the little moments that Raven had ignored, now resurfacing with a renewed vigor. It pumps through her veins, filling her completely. 

It all hits her at once. 

She doesn’t know how she could have been so oblivious to it all. 

Maybe she did see it, but favored ignorance so that things wouldn’t have to change. 

But change happens whether I like it or not. 

She gets up, pushing past the aching muscles in her side to get dressed. Confronting her feelings is long overdue, and she can’t afford to put it off any longer. Not with the thought of dying without telling Damian about how she feels. 

She finds him outside, looking out across the bay. Laps of water splash gently against the rocks. The wind whips her hair as she draws closer. If Damian notices her presence he doesn’t acknowledge it. She can see that he’s deep in thought with the far away look on his face, brows knitted together. 

She sits down beside him. 

He meets her stare when she looks at him. She takes a breath, it’s now or never. 

“You love me,” she states, looking into his eyes for confirmation. His expression doesn’t change, he’s not surprised. He just stares right back. 

“Yes,” he says simply. 

Raven sucks in a breath, “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“You weren’t ready for me to tell you,” he says as his eyes soften, “It would have scared you.” 

“That’s — true,” she admits with a frown, “I’m still scared, but, I love you too.” 

He smiles, “I know.” 

“You do?” 

“Yes, but that’s okay. I didn't mind waiting for you to figure it out.”  

She laughs then, bewildered by him. The wind reveals the dog tags underneath his shirt, and Raven decides to ask again. 

“Will you tell me what the other one means now?” 

He recites to her first in Arabic. A poem. 

“في أيّام الصيف.. أَتمدّد على رمال الشاطئ وأمارس هوايةَ التفكير بكِ.. لو أنّني أقول للبحر.. ما أشعر به نحوكِ لترك شواطئَه.. وأصدافَه.. وأسماكَه.. وتبعني”

Then he holds her stare when he translates, “ In the summer I stretch out on the shore And think of you. Had I told the sea What I felt for you, It would have left its shores, Its shells, Its fish, And followed me.”

With tears in her eyes she reaches for him so that she can rest her forehead against his. 

“I love you.” 

He responds to her in kind, his mouth whispering against her lips for the first time. 

“I love you too.”

[elacular-kink]

Hicvember 26: Least favorite OC

I dunno that I have any least favorite OCs, even to the extent that I have OCs at all, but I feel like I haven't done as much with Maya, though I could be wrong about that. So here's her flying too close to the sun in a story inspired by a comment from our esteemed Fish Writer on the very first Poly-techhic story. I think this'd take place sometime near the end of Olivia and Susanna's first year in college.

Contents: Hiccups, Arousal, painful hiccups, stomach chest and throat pain, hurt/comfort, big feelings, mush, references to sex-type stuff.

"Maya, have you ever considered physically exploding or throwing yourself into the sun?"

I couldn't help laughing at Susie, and I could see her bright red face get brighter and redder when I kept hiccuping super hard at her. "I me–*HEEK* mean, I kinda di–*CULP* did that alr–*HUCK*–ready, right? *HIULK-UK!*–g-guh!" Spread out in front of me were plates of bones from the hot wings I had slaughtered and devoured. I was so fucking full and my whole throat and chest and guts were on fire, and my huge fucking hiccups hurt like a bitch, but it was so worth it to see Susie squirm.

And squirm she fucking did. No matter how low she pulled her hood, even if she managed to hide all of her face, she couldn't hide how wiggly her hips were or the way her voice would catch when I hiccuped especially hard. "You're evil. You're evil and you're going to hell and they're going to crown you the queen bitch of the second circle."

"Hey, if I'm go–*HOK-ULK!* gonna go the–*URK* anyway, wh–*HIUK* why not go there *HNK* famous? *HNK-LK!* Nhnhf! Fuck, ow..."

"You deserve that. Whatever you're feeling right now, you definitely deserve it."

"No–*HOK* Not gonna arg---gue with you the–*HURK* there, champ." I rubbed my chest. Thank fuck my sports bra was mostly keeping my titties in place, or this would suck even more. And even though I didn't regret shit, I couldn't pretend I was having the best time in the world. "I'll be re–*HEEK* real, Susie, it'd pro–*HOK-LK*–ooohbly be be–*URK* best to keep thi–*CULP* this shit short. *HRK-LK*–g-guh. And you prob---bly don't want my fi–*HNKG*–gers or tongue ne–*URK* near anything imp–*HUP*–p-portant, so," I leaned back to give her a good view, ignoring the weird twinge in my stomach. "How 'b–*BUK*–bout we go somepl–*ULK* someplace private an–*HNK*–and you ha–*ULK* have a ride on thi–*URK* this big, stu–*HULK* stuffed gu–*HIUK–UK!*–guh, fuck!" I'd slapped my big, stuffed gut, and I didn't even do it that hard, but as soon as I did, everything fucking hurt and I wound up doubled over and tearing up, just trying to keep a hold on myself.

"Shit, Maya, are you okay?" Susie stood up, and a second later she came around the table. I could feel her hand hovering over my back and I wished she'd just fucking rub it or something, but fuckin'...

"*HIULK*–g-guh! *HURK!* Sonofa–*HIULK-HUK!* *HUKOLP!* Fuck, jesus fu–*HUCK*–christ!" They'd gotten faster, and now every single one was hurting.

"Fuck. Okay, hang on, lemme get you some water." Normally I'd argue with Susie on that one, but chrissake, yeah, I needed this shit to stop. Crap, I'd have to make up for winding her up like that later. My mouth was feeling way too hot again, and my stupid eyes were filling with tears, and fuck if that wasn't fucking humiliating. Especially in the middle of the goddamn cafeteria. I didn't wanna be seen crying like a bitch, I was the one who made people cry and moan and feel all sorts of shit.

I heard Susie running up to me. She was so much quicker than she thought she was. "Fuck, got some of it on my—whatever, doesn't matter. Here." She put down two mostly-full plastic cups of water. That was sweet of her. She knew it'd only take one sip to cure me, but she wanted to make sure. Goddamn. What a good girl. I grabbed whichever one was closer to my hands and slurped down a faceful of water, feeling just how uncomfortably full I was more and more. The water didn't help my burning face, because of course it didn't, but I didn't expect it to. Susie's hand landed uncertainly on my shoulder, and I could feel that she'd gotten the sleeve of her hoodie wet. "You okay?"

"Y-yeh, yeah, dude, I'm f–*HIURK!*–k-kuh!" I doubled over again, and I knew my eyes were practically bugging out of my head. "What...what the fu–*HUCK!*"

"Shit!" Susie pulled her hand away, and I really wished she'd knock that shit off, but that was pretty fucking far from my biggest complaint right now. "Fuck, uh...drink more?"

"N–*HOLK* no shit, Su–*HOOK* Sue-lock Ho–*OLK-ULK!*–ooohhhfuck..." I knew I was being a bitch, but fuck, my stomach kept fucking bouncing and burning and my chest and my face were on fire and these fucking hiccups were making my throat hurt and Jesus fucking christ I needed more water. But every swallow was a struggle to get down, and the whole glass felt like I'd tried to drink a gallon of milk. And even when I got all of it down—"*HURK!*–GUH! F-fuck, Sues–*HIUK!* Christ! Why wo–*HOLK!* won't it *HUKULK! HUK!* G-gaaahhhh! *HAULK!* Fuck!"

Fuck, was I actually crying now? It felt like tears were going down my fucking face. Jesus, what the fuck? But it hurt so much. Why the fuck was my body doing this to me? It was my fucking body! It did what I want and it was fucking good at it! What the fuck was this shit?!

...I remembered reading about some motherfucker who had the hiccups for 69 not fucking nice at all years.

And Christ, now I was crying even more about the stupidest shit in the universe and my hiccups were getting worse and that just made everything hurt more and fucking—

"Okay, I'm bringing you someplace else." I managed to open my eyes and look up at Susie, and I just barely saw that her face was still crazy red before she grabbed my hand and pulled me up off the seat. Trying to straighten up made my whole stomach scream at me, so I just kind of grabbed onto her and leaned on her. Somewhere in my head, I felt like shit that I was kind of teasing her or something, because my hiccups just kept coming, but I couldn't even think about sex right now. This wasn't fucking sexy pain. This felt like I was getting stabbed and drinking lava all at the same time every few fucking seconds.

I kind of expected her to just drag me to a bathroom since that was apparently where she went whenever she panicked, but instead, she brought me out of the building and into one I'd probably been in for some class or another at some point, but fuck if I could tell you what. I was barely paying attention to where we were going anyway. At some point, she opened up a door, then sighed softly. "Okay, nobody's here. Cool." She sat me down in an acceptable plastic chair, and I wiped my eyes and looked around and saw that I was in some sort of big semicircle room with wide stair-type floors and weird panels on the walls. In the back, I could see a xylophone and some kind of drums, though it didn't look like the kind of drums that Susie'd play. When I looked at her, she'd closed the door behind her, and I could see a sign through the only kinda see-through window. "Nobody'll bug us here, and the soundproofing's pretty good, so you don't have to worry about being heard or anything. I've, uh, I've called Olivia and she'll be bringing over a milkshake if you can drink any more. That might help." She was looking away from me really hard. Fucking doofus. She was doing that thing where she tries not to be turned on when she clearly fucking was. "But if you want me to leave you alone, I can step out and—"

"Dude, do–*HOULK* don't you fu–*UCK* fucking dare." I didn't wanna be fucking alone like this.

...I mean, I also kinda didn't wanna be around anyone like this, but I didn't wanna be alone more than I didn't wanna be seen.

"Uh, okay. Yeah, okay." Susie rocked back and forth. "So, uh, do you want me to kind of—" I dragged a chair in arm's reach next to me and smacked it. "Got it." Thank fuck she actually did get it, because she walked over and sat down, and when I pointed at my back, she got that too and started rubbing it, and it helped a tiny bit. "You're okay, Maya. It's gonna be okay."

"Fuck, Su–*HIUK* Susie..." I snorted and tried to wipe my face on my arm, but that precious fucking idiot caught my hand, then used her hoodie to clean me off. "Why are y–*HOULK* you so fucking–*HNKG!*–nnnnh!"

"S-sorry," I looked up at her and saw that she was looking away. "I, uh, I know you're hurting and I really shouldn't be—"

"Sweet." She looked at me and I swatted the back of her head. "Why a–*URK* are you so–*HIOLK* so fucking sw–*HEET*. That's th–*IURK* the question, stu–*HOOK* stupid."

"Ah—" She looked away, but I got to see her smiling before she did, and that made things feel a little less lava-stabbed. "I mean, this is, uh...this is kind of my fault so—OW!"

I'd smacked the back of her head harder this time and she glared at me. I glared right back. "You d–*CULP* didn't ma–*UCK* make me e–*HEUK* eat those wi–*HNGK*s, you fu–*HULK* fucki–*NGK* di–*HIC* dick–*HURK* dickhe–*EULK* oh god–*HULK!* *HICCULP* *HIULK* *HUCK* *HIUP* *HUCK-HUCK-HUCK–HICCOLP!* FUCK! Je---Jesus fucking *HLK* Christ!"

I was doubled over in pain again, and my throat felt so fucked up while my stomach was jerking out and making everything in it make weird fucking noises that I knew turned Susie on and I hoped that all my other shit was too loud for her to hear it because fuck if that girl needed more stupid shit to feel guilty about. One hand kept rubbing my back, and then her other landed on my stomach, very gently rubbing it too. I sat up and got a look at her, and the moron instantly pulled away. "S-sorry! Sorry, I shouldn't—" I rolled my eyes and dragged her stupid cold tiny hand back to my belly. "A-ah...y-yeah. Okay." She started rubbing it again, and it didn't take away much of the bad feelings, but at least there was some good too.

After...fuck if I knew, some number of minutes, the door opened up and Liv came in, a slushy in one hand and a vanilla milkshake in the other. "I know you like mint chocolate better, but I think that could be weird with the spiciness. Hi Susanna." Susie nodded and Liv dragged a chair over to my other side, shoving the milkshake into my hands. I had no idea if I'd actually be able to drink any of it, my stomach felt way too fucking full already, but I at least took a sip and kept it in my mouth. "Since we're in the music room anyway, I brought your guitar." 

I looked up and saw that Liv did have an electric guitar slung over her back, and she passed it to Susie. "Uh...thanks? I'm kinda helping Maya right now though?"

"That's why I brought it. When I feel like garbage, hearing Susanna sing makes me feel better." She could sing? I mean, I kinda half knew that, but it wasn't like I'd ever successfully dragged her ass to karaoke anywhere.

"Olivia, my singing doesn't have magic powers, you should know that. It doesn't cure—" She stopped mid-sentence and I kind of snorted at that. Fuck, her failing to say the word was always kinda funny. "...you know, stomachaches or anything."

"It's still nice. Maya, what's your favorite song?"

Fuck, Liv wanted me to fucking think right now? And what songs did I even know? I'd have to swallow the milkshake too. I managed it and didn't feel too much like shit, but it still felt kinda gross. "Ugh. *HNLK*. Shit, I du–*HULK* dunno, Liv.  *HURK*–guh. Fuckin'...gi–*HIRK* girls just wanna ha–*URK* have fun or so–*HMK* some shit like tha–*HULK*–at?" I was surprised when I heard Liv snickering, and I saw her smiling when I looked up. "Does Sus–*HEEK* even fucking kn–*HOULK* know that one?"

There was a smack, and when I looked over, Susie was rubbing her face with the hand she'd taken off my back. "Of course I fucking know that one," she sighed, then got up. Liv was less of a pussy about giving back and belly rubs than Susie was, so I was able to chill a little more. Susie didn't start singing right away though. Instead, she walked off into a little side room, then came out carrying a whole-ass keyboard and stand and shit and she set it up at the front of the room. "Gonna have to lower this shit a whole fucking octave. Fucking sopranos." I was wondering why she didn't just use her guitar or the actual piano that was literally right there when she suddenly dragged her hands up and down the keyboard, then started playing it super happy and fast before she burst into fucking song. "I come home in the mornin' light, my mother says, 'When you gonna live your life right?' Oh, mama dear, we're not the fortunate ones, and girls, they wanna have fun! Oh, girls just wanna have fun!"

My brain kind of didn't accept what the fuck I was seeing until she started singing again, and I burst the fuck out laughing. I couldn't stop cackling and Christ, that made me hiccup like crazy and everything was in fucking agony but Jesus. "St–*HIURK* stop, sto–*HOP!* Fuck!" She did stop, but it took me way too long to actually stop laughing. "Chr–*IULK* Christ, Sue, *HLK* don't ma–*UCK* make me fucki–*HNK*–gghhh!"

"Shit, right. Sorry."

"Don't apologize, you just did what she told you to." I gave Liv a thumbs up for saying it so I didn't have to.

"Guess I can play some other Cyndi Lauper."

I squinted down at my thighs before I looked up at her again. "Some wh–*HAUT*?"

Susie squinted back at me. "Cyndi Lauper. You know. The person who wrote the fucking song."

"...oh. *HNK*"

Somehow, even though she was still blushing like crazy, Susie looked absolutely fucking offended. "You don't—bitch, how the fuck do you not know who Cyndi Lauper is?"

"We don't all have the history of music from the 50s onward memorized," Liv saved my ass.

"It's fucking Cyndi Lauper! If anyone should know about her it's Maya! There's a fucking sex toy shop named after one of her songs!"

"Wha–*HAUK–at?!" I started laughing again. "Okay fu–*HUCK* fuck gir–*HIRK* girls just wann–*AULK* have fun, *HNLK* sing tha–*UCK* that shit!"

"NO!" Fuck, she was so fucking red, this was amazing.

"She actually probably shouldn't right now. If you laugh more you might die." Fuck, Liv was right. I groaned and my stomach and throat remembered to let me know I was a fucking dumbass.

Susie huffed and glared at me before actually walking over and picking up the guitar she'd left across her seat before moving back to the real piano and sitting on its bench. That was fair if I was honest. I'd probably fuck with her while she was trying to play it. After plunking the strings a bit, she nodded. "This'd definitely sound better on acoustic, but...fuck off, this one's mine."

"You're the only one being weird about it, Susanna."

"Fuck off more." Liv shrugged, and if these two wanted me to stop laughing, they should have stopped being so fuckin funny. After a moment, she actually stood up again and moved behind the keyboard, tapping something on it before pressing the keys. Instead of fake piano noises coming out, it made some fucking bongo sounds in a beat before she pulled her hand back to the guitar and started playing. Before I could figure out what the fuck that was about, though, she started singing too: "You with the sad heart, don't be discouraged, though I realize it's hard to take courage. In a world full of people you can lose sight of it all, and the darkness that's inside you makes you feel so small."

Before I even knew what the fuck was happening, I was just staring at Susie while she sang about true colors and loving people and support and...Jesus Christ, this fucking girl. This fucking girl. Liv was smiling. Even Liv was smiling. She only smiled when she was really fucking happy. Susie made her so fucking happy.

She made me so fucking happy too.

When she wound the song down I felt like the gayest girl in the fucking universe. "Your true colors, true colors...are beautiful like a rainbow." She pulled her hand away and played the drum noises with the keyboard again, then sighed and took her guitar off her shoulder, putting it down on the bench. "So. Any more requests?"

"G–*HOK* God, I love you."

Susie looked like a deer about to be murdered by a truck. "Uh—!" Her mouth opened and closed a bunch before she shook her head. "There are, um, a lot of songs with that title probably so you might need to—"

"You know that's not what she meant."

"...ah?"

Liv looked at me, and Susie was definitely staring at me. Shit. I hadn't really thought about it before I said it. But trying to back out of it was clearly fucking stupid with Liv right there, so I sighed and took another sip of my milkshake to buy a little time, then sat up a little straighter. "Yeah. *HNK* Liv's right. *HIK-ulk*. I meant I lo–*HUK* love you, Susie. *HMNK* And, uh, I lo–*ULK* love you too, Li–*HILK* Liv." Neither of them said anything, and boy was that not good for how my chest, throat, and stomach felt. I laughed a little, just to feel less tense. It didn't really work. "I've always kind—*AUK* kinda fell fast, you know? *HNK-lk* You don't go–*HOK* gotta say it back or *HNK* anything."

"Good!" Susie only seemed to realize what she said a split second after saying it, then shook her head. "Not, that, uh! I didn't mean—! I, uh—"

"And people say I have no tact." Liv took my chin and made me look at her instead of at Susie freaking out, and even though Liv didn't do eye contact, she did it right now. "What Susie means is that she's bad at saying that and probably won't for a while, but she really cares a lot about you. As for me..." She looked away and bit her thumbnail while she stared up at the ceiling. "Well, I'm definitely not in love with you. That's not gonna happen." I nodded. We'd established that one. "But I think that I do love you. And if I don't yet, if things keep going like they're going, I think I will." She smiled at me. It was one of her on-purpose smiles. She sucked so hard at that, but she only ever did it when she really wanted people to know she meant it.

...fuck, I was crying again.

"Hang on, don't hug me yet." I wasn't going to, but it made sense that Liv thought I was. And I really fucking wanted to. "Susanna, let me—thank you." Susie tossed Liv her hoodie and Liv sort of threw it over one shoulder, then pulled me into a hug herself, resting my chin on the hoodie. She held me and she rubbed my back, and she hummed in my ear. "I don't want to get your snot on me. But I do want to hug you. And I think you could use it." I sobbed and hiccuped like a fucking goober, but they both hurt way less now.

After a few seconds, I felt Susie wrap her arms around both of us, taller than us for once in her fucking life since she was standing and we were sitting. I imagined her towering over us and cackling and I couldn't stop myself from laughing again. That hurt less too though.

I laughed more at my own dumb thoughts a second later: Even if I did catch the hiccups for 69 years, it'd still be nice if I had these girls around me. Fuck, someday I'd tell Susie that joke and she'd throw the nearest fucking object at my head and it'd be so fucking funny.

Not now though. Now with those two holding me, shit was just perfect.

[succumbed-to-the-void]

On the Unforeseen Difficulty of Doing the Dishes

Everyone wants to save the world, but nobody wants to do the dishes.

At least, that’s what they say. Personally, I don’t really mind doing the dishes. It’s almost meditative, a cleansing of the soul as well as the schmutz on the plates. Saving the world, on the other hand? I’ve seen enough Marvel movies to know that that sounds pretty dangerous.

So when I joined my synagogue, I had a clear idea of how I wanted to serve my community. I didn’t want to be on the board–let someone else take on power and handle the political decisions. I’m not good with people anyway. I just wanted to do the dishes.

There was just one problem, which is that my synagogue used disposable plates. (Yes, I am always this literal.) I wanted to change that–not only because I wanted to do the dishes, but also because, even if I don’t actually feel capable of saving the world, I also don’t want to witness it being destroyed in front of my eyes.

I have a lot of anxiety about climate change. People often tell me to calm down about this, but in my opinion, I’m the one who’s reasonable and everyone else is crazy. Did you know, that when you ask people what they’re afraid of, the most common answer is public speaking? I am not at all afraid of public speaking. I do it all the time. That’s not because I’m brave–not at all. It’s because I know that the worst thing that could possibly happen when I give a speech is that everyone will think I’m an idiot. But I am an idiot, and the people deserve to know the truth. Climate change on the other hand, which is predicted to lead to a billion deaths over the next century, doesn’t even crack the top ten common fears.

I can’t save the world. But I can do the dishes.

At least, I thought I could.

I’m not totally naïve. I knew that introducing reusables to an organization would require some political maneuvering. I decided it was only right that I should get involved with other volunteering tasks, lest the kitchen volunteers resent me for only caring about the dishes and never helping with anything else. Besides, the other kitchen tasks were also the sort of broader, metaphorical “doing the dishes” that I wanted to be doing with my life.

So I helped. I did this for about a year. I swept the floor. I washed tablecloths and set them out, along with salt and pepper, food, and dishes. I brewed coffee. I poured hot water for tea. I poured out innumerable little plastic cups of wine and felt my environmentalist heart break with each one. (I briefly tried putting them out in shot glasses instead, though that did not go over well, to put it mildly.)

I could not possibly have imagined the level of controversy that would arise over those dishes. Someone swore at me. I walked in on someone complaining about me at least once (the other incident was probably mostly about another volunteer, but I think it was a little bit about me too.) It was made clear to me by both my fellow volunteers and the rabbi that my help in the kitchen was no longer wanted. 

I did not react well to this emotionally. I lashed out and said some things I regret in an awful fight that ballooned out to involve the rabbi, the board, and all my closest friends at the shul. (In my defense, even in my most unhinged emails I was still a lot nicer than any of the prophets, even though in my case there is an actual apocalypse that is literally coming.) I got psychosomatic back pain, I sunk into a depressive slump that left me barely able to get out of bed for a couple of weeks, and I seriously considered leaving the shul altogether.

Of course, it wasn’t all about the dishes. Let’s just say that my high school superlative was not “most emotionally stable,” to put it mildly. But the dishes were a pretty big part of it.

I can somewhat understand the anti-reusables perspective. I live in Los Angeles, which has hard water that doesn’t exactly leave glass dishes sparkling. (Our synagogue has glass dishes because it’s easier to keep them kosher.) I was also never able to get to the dishes as quickly as my fellow volunteers wanted me to, because I always wanted to participate in the communal Grace After Meals and by the time I managed to get to the kitchen, someone else had almost always started them first. In my defense, I did stick around doing other clean-up tasks until we closed up, but the fact that I wasn’t specifically doing the dishes made my insistence on reusables unpopular.

But I don’t think the antagonism toward the dishes really had much to do with these challenges. I think that trying to do something good often provokes this response in people. I got a lot of defensive remarks about how people using disposables doesn’t make them bad people, although I don’t believe that and certainly never said it.

I’m not totally trying to defend myself. Look: there’s a reason I said I never wanted to join the board, I’m awkward and everything comes out wrong when I try to communicate with people. But I can say this seriously: I really was never trying to criticize anyone. I was trying to wash dishes.

But it never seemed to be about the dishes. When I said that reusables were important to me because I care a lot about the environment, one of the other volunteers told me that she has problems with electric cars because they contain lithium batteries. This did not seem particularly relevant to me, because dishes do not contain lithium batteries, and anyway, I don’t own an electric car. (I usually try to walk, bike, or take transit.) The response wasn’t about the dishes; it was about the negative feelings people had about environmentalism in general. It then felt impossible to solve this one, concrete problem that actually felt actionable.

Shortly after the fallout from the dishes, I decided to go to Quaker meeting for worship. If you’re not familiar with meeting for worship, it involves sitting in silence together for an hour. Sometimes people speak as they feel called to, but it’s mostly silent. This is an ideal form of worship for me, because I like to think that I like people, but the truth is that I like them a whole lot better when they shut up. 

This wasn’t my first time in a Quaker meeting, but it was my first time back for a while. Part of what pushed me back to the meeting was my deep disappointment with my Jewish community and my desire to find fellowship somewhere else. 

If you know anything about Quakers, you know they’re the kind of people who do the dishes. But still, you can’t imagine how thrilled I was when I stayed for their monthly potluck and found out that they literally did the dishes. Yes, they offered reusable plates–and even reusable mugs, which I never even dreamed of pushing for at my synagogue. I was ecstatic. I told that to the guy washing the dishes afterwards.

“I’m so glad you use reusables here,” I told him. “The environment is really important to me.”

“Well, we use both,” he said, kind of awkwardly–and maybe a little annoyed at how happy I was about dishes when he was currently elbows deep in dishwater. “We offer both reusables and disposables. There’s a controversy because a lot of people don’t want to do the dishes.”

This sounded a little familiar.

I offered to help with the dishes, but he said he was good. So I collapsed tables, wiped down counters, and did a little drying when he had clean dishes ready for me. After a while, the guy doing dishes got tired and then I jumped in to take a turn. It was finally happening! I finally succeeded in doing the dishes!

My jubilation lasted for about ten minutes before I found it.

As I was fishing dirty dishes out of the murky water in the sink, I found a knife. A sharp one.

If you’re reading this, there’s a decent chance you’re thinking, “So? What’s the matter with that?” And if you take nothing else away from this essay, I am begging you to take away this one thing: please do not leave sharp knives to soak in the sink. It is not safe, because you cannot see the knives under the dishwater and it is very easy to cut yourself that way. It’s also a great way to get an infected cut because the dishwater is not clean. There’s a meaningful possibility you could lose a finger doing this.

“Okay,” I thought. “Someone wasn’t very safe.” I breathed a little and moved on. And then about ten minutes later, someone else put an even bigger knife into that sink, plopping this one down into the water just inches away from my hand. I was too shocked to respond. Later I fished a third one out, too. It became clear to me that this was just the way the meeting house did dishes.

I called my friend Rebecca later that day to ask her how I should handle the situation.

“You’re not going to like this,” she told me, “but the Quaker answer is that if you want to change how things are done at the meeting house, then you should join the relevant committee.”

I was not particularly happy with this answer. First of all, as I think I have made clear, I have neither the talent nor the interest for the politics. I am not good with people. That’s the whole reason why, instead of joining Meeting for Business, I stayed behind in the kitchen to do the damn dishes.

“I can’t go to Meeting for Business,” I told Rebecca. “It happens during the time right after the potluck and I want to be helping wash the dishes during that time.”

“It’s more important for you as a newcomer to be in Meeting for Business than it is for you to be doing dishes,” Rebecca told me. “My recommendation would be to go to Meeting for Business for about six months to get an idea of how the meeting handles conflicts, and then you can start making changes to the organization.”

I did not want to sit in meetings for six months just to ask this group of people not to commit OSHA violations. I did not want to start over with yet another months-long process of gathering political goodwill just to earn the right to do the dishes. I thought about how the man washing dishes in the first hour had told me that there was a controversy over whether to have reusables at all, and I wondered if my priggish insistence on knife safety might kill the reusable project altogether. 

I thought about that first knife I fished out of the dishwater. There was a label stuck on the handle: “HAND WASH AND DRY RIGHT AWAY.” That message felt like a love letter to me from the past, like a hint that someone had been in my place before me and had also tried to help. But I had fished that very knife out of the sink. Someone didn’t read the label, maybe, or they didn’t really understand. 

I thought about the number of people who had stood up in meeting for worship that day to announce it was their first visit. I thought of how more and more newcomers were likely to come to the meeting in the months and years to come, and how every single one of those new people would need to be trained on knife safety if I didn’t want a surprise knife in the sink.

I decided to take Rebecca’s advice and stop doing the dishes.

This is where a reasonable person would laugh it off and let it go, but that’s not so easy for me. I worry that anyone who does the dishes at that meeting house might seriously hurt themselves. And there were so many feelings that came up with that knife when I fished it out of the water. I thought of my mother: how she would always leave sharp knives to soak in the sink. I asked her not to do that because I was afraid I would cut myself, and she just brushed me off. I thought of how eventually she cut her own hand that way, but she still couldn’t acknowledge that I was right. I thought of how she and my father would always make fun of me as a kid for being afraid of knives. I thought of how they normalized it so much that when my ex-boyfriend taunted me by waving knives around me and pointing one at my throat, I didn’t realize it wasn’t okay. 

I thought about how badly I wanted to tell everyone at that meeting house that knives really are dangerous and I’m not just overreacting the way my mom and dad and my ex-boyfriend always said I was. I imagined telling them and then watching them put the knives in the sink anyway, because nobody ever sees the dangers I see–because they’re fine with it as long as they don’t have to look at it. As long as it’s someone else’s trauma they can cope with by telling them to move on, as long as it’s an undefined climate crisis happening at some point in the future, as long as it’s only a knife lurking somewhere underneath the surface of the water.

It wasn’t about the knives.

Why was I even so worried about the possibility of accidentally cutting myself with a knife when I spend so many nights fighting off the urge to cut myself? Why did I get so worked up about this? The truth is that if you asked me to name my greatest fears, death wouldn’t even crack the top ten. In my darkest moments, which come more frequently than I’d like, I find myself wishing for it. My greatest fear is feeling terrified while everyone around me tells me that I’m just overreacting. That’s why I get so worked out about plastic knives and sharp knives in the dishwasher. I just feel like nobody cares.

Maybe I’m not quite as reasonable as I’d like to think.

Maybe it wasn’t about the dishes for me either. Not really. Maybe it was about wanting to do something that felt achievable in a world where everything feels so hard. This was the year I gave up on my dream of being a teacher because of how broken the school system is. I can’t fix that problem, so I at least wanted to do the dishes. I failed at that too, and then I shut down.

The truth (and this is a lesson I keep failing to learn) is that absolutely everything in life is impossibly hard. Well, not everything. Actually, Biblical Hebrew grammar and differential equations are pretty doable for me. But everything worth doing is hard, because I’m not happy sitting alone in a room forever with my books. I want to make a difference in a community full of people that I love, and everything that involves other people is impossibly hard for me.

A lot of that is me. I’m not good at relationships. I’m weird and intense and I get really worked up about things that most people do not care about.

But if I were the only intense person, then people would have just let me wash the dishes. Other people got just as worked up over wanting disposables as I did over wanting reusables.

How could I possibly have deluded myself that this would be easy? I know how quickly my mind jumps to assume that other people hate everything about me. Why would I be surprised when other people jumped to assume that I was judging them about the disposable plates? Aren’t they entitled to all the same neuroses that I have?

This is why human beings can never get things done on an organizational level. Nobody can just do the dishes.

This year I read the novel An Absolutely Remarkable Thing by Hank Green. It’s a sci-fi allegory for climate change, and its conclusion optimistically suggests that humanity will learn to work together to save itself. It brought me to tears, but I’m not convinced Green’s right. For what it’s worth, when I recommended the book to my Torah study group, the only person who read it immediately cancelled Green for being “pro-Palestine” after he defended a Palestinian-American activist who was deported. I believe that humanity is capable of doing something–and that even a single life saved is worth it–but I no longer believe that we as a species are capable of the kind of massive coordination that would be necessary to prevent massive atrocity.

A billion people will die from climate change in the next century. I used to think that was a preventable possibility. I now see it as an unavoidable fact.

My fellow volunteers are not bad people. They are good people who devote their Saturday mornings to setting up a lunch for their faith community. One of them–the one most adamantly opposed to fighting for recycling in our synagogue–recently lost her home in the wildfires. If that group of people can’t come together to support reusables, then our world has no chance. And I’m not just basing this off this small group of people, but on my experience living in a blue state. If even Angelenos have no interest in building a functioning transit system, then what hope is there for the rest of America? 

I recently attended a bat mitzvah at which the girl gave a drash about how she lost her home in the fires. There was plastic cutlery at the kiddush.

It’s a small thing. Of course I’m not blaming that girl or her family. But if they aren’t going to take the time to wash some forks, will anyone?

I know that corporations are responsible for a lot of the worst effects of climate change. But I think it’s easy to blame the billionaires and ignore the ways that we are voting for this, both with our ballots and our wallets. Even putting aside the corporations, the lifestyle of the average American is unsustainable, and we will have to make major changes to our lifestyles–though, unfortunately, we will probably only make those changes on a large scale once millions of people have already died. 

But it isn’t because people don’t care. That’s the other side of this: these people who are so hostile to climate action are good and loving people. I wish we lived in a more just world, but you try explaining to a doting grandparent that your middle-class toddler does not need yet another new $50 plastic contraption that will wind up in a landfill, when they could instead give that money to a family that can’t afford diapers. It’s not that people don’t care. It’s just that it doesn’t come naturally to people to be analytical when expressing love. 

One congregant told me that he wanted to use disposable dishes because he didn’t want to create work for me. I think his care was misplaced, but it’s impossible not to see that as care. It’s just that he cared more about the person right in front of him than he did about the exploited laborers on the other side of the world who made the paper plates or the people who might die in a hundred years due to a large number of wasteful habits, of which the plates are only one small part.

The humanity of the privileged is cold comfort to the oppressed. It’s cold comfort to me. But it’s something. I think about the dismissive way people so often respond to my abuse history. It’s not okay. Still, I wonder if they’re keeping it abstract and far away so they can cope with it. I imagine that if they were there with me in the room, I could really feel that care. That isn’t really enough, but it’s something. Maybe it’s even enough for me to learn to love other people so that I can sit patiently with them in a committee and gently advocate for them not to slice their hands open.

I’ve never wanted to be involved in organizational politics. It does not play to any of my strengths. I’m still not coming anywhere near my synagogue board. But I might think about coming to Meeting for Business, since I feel like I should do something for the meeting and I can’t do the dishes.

The ironic thing about all of this is that I almost never ended up doing the dishes at my synagogue. I wasn’t avoiding the dishes, but I would inevitably find that someone else had started in on the dishes before I could get to them. Often, these were people who didn’t otherwise help in the kitchen, but they jumped at a clear chance to make themselves useful by doing the dishes. No matter how many times I emphasized to people that it was my responsibility because I was the one who asked to put them out; no matter how many times I begged them to please just wait for me to say Grace After Meals so that I could do them; somebody else always jumped in and claimed dish duty. For something that everyone supposedly hated, it sure seemed like a lot of people were clamoring to do it. The conflict was finally resolved when one of the kitchen volunteers bought lightweight dishes that she would be able to wash. She was upset because her back problems made her unable to wash glass dishes, and she felt excluded. Once she could wash dishes too, she felt better about it.

It really shouldn't be surprising that people stepped up and did the dishes. Disposables have not existed for most of human history. People have always done the dishes. It's only recently that we've convinced ourselves that they’re an insurmountable obstacle.

I always thought that what made me unique was my ability to step up and do the dishes, but it turns out that wasn’t true. What made me unique was wanting to put them out there in the first place. For better or worse–and I’m still not sure if it was worth all the tsuris–it was an action I took out of strong conviction, and that was what I had to do alone.

As it turned out, in the end, everybody wanted to do the dishes.

Nobody wanted to save the world.

[enjoy-the-butterf1ies]

Everywhere, Everything-

CL16 (Chapter 4/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc × female!reader

Series Summary: In which a rising singer gets her biggest break yet; opening at the Austin Grand Prix. All record companies would have their eyes on her- along with a certain monegasque driver.

Trope: Slow burn with a mix of other tropes in there (He fell first, one bed, roommates, all the good ones!)

Chapter Summary: Plane rides and conversations spark new and confused feelings inside you.

Warnings: Cussing, reader is clueless, extremely quick and rushed chapter 🫣

“Oh my god, Charles,” You said, stuffing your mouth with a rich chocolate cheesecake. “This is delicious. I take back everything I said about private jets. Screw the environment. I literally want to marry this dessert.” Charles couldn’t help but laugh at you. You were only halfway joking anyways.

You two had boarded a private plane to go to Mexico earlier that morning. After a lot of struggling, he finally pulled you out of the hotel bed to make it to the plane on time. You were a force to be reckoned with when your sleep schedule was fucked. He quite literally had to drag you at one point, but that’s long forgotten. All you could focus on now was the plane food.

“Is this what being rich is like? Sign me up.” You licked your lips and rubbed your stomach happily. You leaned back in the cozy chair and curled your feet up close. Okay. As nice as it was to be in this position, you were petrified. You could put on a brave face in front of Charles but in truth, you had no idea what you were getting yourself into. Private gets, trip to Mexico, fancy food, expensive hotels… Not to mention you still had to perform at the rest of the Grand Prix this season.

You silently kicked yourself for agreeing to it.

Nonetheless you still smiled and thanked Charles once again for everything. After all, he’s the reason your dreams may come true.

But to him, it seemed like no big deal.

You watched him shake his head and shrug. “No, no. No more thanking me.” He chuckled. You scoffed. And he dramatically put a hand over his heart and gasped. “Sassy today, are we?”

“I have to thank you,” You protested. “How can I not? I promise I’m gonna pay you back someday, for everything. This is so much bigger than you realize.”

Charles grinned, dimples prominent on his cheeks. “Non, non,” He ticked his finger back and forth. “It’s just a favor for a friend.” Friend. The word echoed in your brain more times than you’d like to admit.

“Whatever you say frenchie,”

“You do realize that term is incredibly offensive? I’m not french.” He huffed like a child. “I’m monegasque.”

You laughed and tossed a straw wrapper you had balled up previously at him. He chuckled and fought back, tossing plastic cup which you easily dodged. The more time you spent with Charles, the more comfortable you two had grown, which is saying a lot because it had only been a few days. The universe is funny in that way, you think. It puts two people together and sometimes they just click. It seemed to be the same with you and Charles.

Soon after the first (and probably last) straw paper war, a flight attendant came to take your plate. She smiled kindly at you, her gaze drifting to Charles as she lifted the silverware. “Is there anything else I can get for you guys?” She asked, her tone sweet. You weren’t keen on the way her eyes wandered over Charles more than once. Especially when her hands wandered dangerously close to his as she grabbed his wine glass. Taking a deep breath to think clearly, you realized you were just protective of your friend. Nothing wrong with that.

“No, thank you, I am good,” He responded, and she nodded her head and flashed an award winning smile. He looked over at you. “Do you want anything else Y/N?”

You froze for a second when he caught your gaze, but quickly regained composure. “No, thank you,” You smiled at the flight attendant, breaking away from Charles’ intense stare. She nodded, glancing at Charles one last time, but his focus was hardened on you. The attendant walked away, her heels clacking against the ground. It thankfully filled the awkward silence you felt. “So, looks like someone’s got a secret admirer?” You wiggled your eyebrows at Charles.

He blinked, confused. “Who?”

Your eyebrows raised in shock. He must be oblivious. “The flight attendant,” You gave him a crooked smile, shock and confusion filled his features. “She was checking you out completely. And she’s cute, maybe you should get her name?”

He smiled but it was clearly forced. “I didn’t even notice.” He said honestly.

You two sat in silence for a minute or so, Charles scrolling through his phone. He seemed completely unbothered by the flight attendant’s advances. Then again, he probably got a lot of attention from women. He’s probably immune to it by now. If that’s even possible.

You looked out the window. The plane soared through the clouds, creating a scene out of a painting. The sun peaked through just enough to create an orange glow among the sky. You took a deep breath, imagining the upcoming days. It didn’t feel real. You were set to play Saturday after qualifying. Mexico was a beautiful track, not quite your favorite, but you knew the energy would be incredible. That is, if you could make it to Saturday. You were sure you were going to pass of a heart attack soon enough.

“Are you going to watch the race?” Charles voice broke you out of your thoughts.

“What?”

“This race weekend,” He suddenly got shy. “I know you’re going to be focused on your music and everything, but are you going to watch the race this weekend?”

You smiled widely. What an odd question. “Of course I am Charles, everything from free practice to race day I’m gonna be there.” You assured him. His smile grew. “It’s my first real Grand Prix weekend. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

His shoulders slumped slightly and you wondered what you could’ve said to change his demeanor. His smile remained unwavering though, and he stretched. You had to stop yourself from looking at his biceps as he laid his hands behind his head. “You’ll be watching from the Ferrari paddock, yes?”

“I was actually thinking of the Redbull paddock,” You joked. Charles though, didn’t seem to understand, and you could see his eyebrows furrow. His eyes widened in fear and you nearly fell back in your chair from laughing. “Oh my god Charles no, I was joking. Of course I’ll be cheering for Ferrari. I’ll be cheering for you.” That last sentence slipped out faster than you could stop it.

You couldn’t help but notice the way his cheeks reddened at that, and you slapped yourself inside your mind. How could you possibly say that? You definitely made him uncomfortable. You cleared your throat, sweating. “Are you nervous for the race?” You asked, hoping he would forget all about this conversation by this time tomorrow.

Charles bit his lip in thought. Your eyes focused on his mouth, the way his teeth rolled over his bottom lip almost made you crazy. You forced yourself to look away, ashamed. This had been about the 5th time today you had to break your gaze away from him and you had no idea why. “Truly I’m worried about the team’s strategies, this season the pit stops have been awful and team communication has completely gone out the window.” He had to chuckle at the absurdity. You assumed if he didn’t laugh he would cry. “Nevertheless I have high hopes, as long as I go into it determined then I’m bound to come out feeling good yeah?”

You smiled at him, seeing the way his body physically relaxed at the sight. “I’m sure you’ll do great Charles, you’re really talented despite the cards you’ve been given,” You said. He nodded. “Whatever you do though, never let racing change you.”

He raised an eyebrow, lost. “Racing is who I am. It’ll never change me.” Is all he said to that. You pursed your lips together and sucked in a light breath. You wondered if you were overstepping by saying any of this. “Besides,” He grinned widely at you. “I’ll have a lucky charm there this time, and an awesome hype up playlist.”

Your heart swelled. The corners of your mouth twitched upward. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, absolutely,”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

“Dude how do you afford the nicest hotels in the history of the world?” You asked Charles, gaping eyes around the hotel lobby. You probably stuck out like a sore thumb, the way your mouth was wide at the sight of the shining chandelier or the way you stuttered when the doorman welcomed you.

The plane ride had been long but you enjoyed every second, you couldn’t deny that. Charles company was incredible. Not only were the conversations special, but you kicked his butt in Mario-Kart and forced him to watch a horror movie. He screamed like a little girl and made you swear to never tell anyone. You agreed, but you were never let him forget about it.

Charles chuckled at you. “Close your mouth, a fly is gonna land in there,” He teased and you flushed with embarrassment.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s just get to our hotel room Frenchie. My arms are tired from holding this suitcase.”

“I’m not french!”

A kind young lady eventually showed the two of you to the hotel room. You guys had agreed to share another room for easy accommodation, plus you were very unsure of staying in a hotel room by yourself in a country you had never visited. Charles was more than okay with that, eager even. He was a very kind friend, always looking out for you.

“Enjoy your love weekend!” The sweet lady said to the two of you, handing Charles the room key. “A beautiful couple, you are.”

“WHAT?” The two of you cried in unison, laughing awkwardly at her words. You wondered what could’ve possibly made her assume the two of you were a couple. On a romantic weekend, at that. Charles shook his head and placed a hand over his heart. “Thank you but we are just friends,” He chuckled, eyebrows furrowed together in embarrassment. He refused to meet your eye, instead fidgeting uncomfortably.

Friend. There was that word again, bouncing back and forth in your mind like an annoying ear worm.

The lady’s mouth opened in a small ‘o’ shape, clearly confused. Flustered, she apologized and the three of you laughed it off. Charles made sure to deeply thank her, tipping her a decent amount for showing the way to the room. Once again, you were amazed by his kindness.

Charles slid the key card into the door, and opened the hotel room. “Oh, shit,” He muttered, pausing at the door. You ran directly into his back.

“Charles, what the hell-“ You grumbled, about to give him a piece of your mind.

“I guess I know why she assumed we were a couple now,” He said, carefully stepping out of the way to let you into the room.

Your eyes widened at the sight.

There was only one bed.

[recurring-polynya]

@fluffnflightillustrations is always asking me for pie crust tips and I never know what to do say because I just..do it. I am there and the food processor is there, and then it is pie crust. Anyway, I was making a pie today and I decided to document the process for posterity.

This recipe is based on J. Kenji Lopez-Alt's food processor piecrust recipe. (he was the same guy who invented the vodka pie crust method but doesn't own the copyright to it, so he can't ever talk about it. Anyway, this one is fine). I've made it a couple of times a year for, I don't know, over a decade.

Here are some facts about pie crust to keep in mind:

Flakiness is caused by pockets of butter surrounded by flour. That's the goal here.

Every pie crust recipe in existence includes dire warnings about how it will turn into particle board if you put in too much water. In one sense, yes, the goal is to use as little water as possible. On the other hand, if you're having trouble getting it to come together, just add some damn water. Every homemade pie crust I have ever made was a million times better than a store-bought pie crust, even if I did add 2T.

If your pie crust comes out bad or you don't notice a difference between store bought and homemade, there is no shame in store bought pie crusts! Life is about figuring out what is worth it to do from scratch and what isn't and that varies from person to person.

I am not a baking expert, I am just a girl who tries stuff s

HERE'S MY METHOD:

Ingredients:

2 1/2 cups (12.5 ounces; 350 grams) all-purpose flour

2 tablespoons (25 grams) sugar

1 teaspoon (5 grams) kosher salt

2 1/2 sticks (10 ounces; 280 grams) unsalted butter (kept in fridge), cut into 1/4-inch pats

6 tablespoons (3 ounces; 85 milliliters) cold water

tl; dr version: 1. Combine two thirds of flour with sugar and salt in the bowl of a food processor. Pulse twice to incorporate. Spread butter chunks evenly over surface. Pulse until no dry flour remains and dough just begins to collect in clumps, about 25 short pulses. Use a rubber spatula to spread the dough evenly around the bowl of the food processor. Sprinkle with remaining flour and pulse until dough is just barely broken up, about 5 short pulses. Transfer dough to a large bowl. 2. Sprinkle with water then using a rubber spatula, fold and press dough until it comes together into a ball. Divide ball in half. Form each half into a 4-inch disk. Wrap tightly in plastic and refrigerate for at least 2 hours before rolling and baking.

✨Verbose Version✨:

Getting Ready to Get Ready The first thing I do is measure out the water in a glass measuring cup and stick it in the freezer.

Next, I cut my butter my butter into pats and spread them out on a plate and stick those in the freezer, too.\

You're just trying to get everything cold, not freeze it. This should probably take about 10 minutes? I take this opportunity to clean up my work area and get out my food processor.

Okay, Let's Do It Here's my food processor. It is big and beautiful and I got it for free because a friend of mine who liked to buy himself things moved across the country and didn't want to take it. I think fondly of him whenever I use it.

Combine two thirds of flour (I did 9.5 oz) with sugar and salt in the bowl of a food processor. Pulse a few times to mix it all up. Did I mention that I always bake by weight? You should always bake by weight.

Spread butter chunks evenly over surface, and pulse. I do this in a 3-4 rounds because I want the butter to get evenly covered in flour and not stick to other butter chunks. I toss a few in, pulse a few times, toss a few more, until they're all in there.

At this point, the recipe says "Pulse until no dry flour remains and dough just begins to collect in clumps, about 25 short pulses." First off, it takes a lot more than 25 for me. Second, it never really begins to collect in clumps, it just gets kinda sandy. It doesn't matter, just move on.

Use a rubber spatula to spread the dough evenly around the bowl of the food processor. Sprinkle with remaining flour and pulse until dough is just barely broken up, about 5 short pulses. Transfer dough to a large bowl.

Sprinkle with water then using a rubber spatula, fold and press dough until it comes together into a ball. I drip in some water, fold and press for a bit, drip in some more, fold and press again, etc. At first, I try to use the spatula (and not my hands) as much as possible. Towards the end I switch over to using your hands. It takes a while to start sticking together, but it will! Just keep pushing on it!

According to Kenji, you should not need to add any more water. I almost always need to add more water. You can put additional water in the freezer, if you want, but I just use room-temp. Today, it took 1 extra T. To be honest, I probably didn't need to, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Divide ball into two. If I am making a double pie crust, I split them unevenly, because the bottom crust needs to be bigger than the top. Today, I'm making a pecan pie, which just needs a single crust, so I'm dividing it into half and saving one of the halves for later.

Form it into a rough circle and flatten. I wrap it loosely in plastic, and then roll it on the edge like a wheel, and flatten it further so I get a nice disk.

Refrigerate at least 2 hrs and up to 3 days. (or you can freeze for up to 3 months) That's the end of part one, part two will continue after the chilling.

[doctorguilty]

Ugh

My grandma unloaded the whole dishwasher while coughing open mouth nonstop like she sounds sick, I pray it's just like allergies though, but it's not like this is a one off thing either both of my grandparents are like this like they don't cover their mouths for any reason ever, also yesterday my grandma was making some meal with raw chicken and it was like Texas chainsaw massacre on the counter and in the sink there was raw chicken pieces and juice everywhere including the "clean" dishes, my sister tried to clean everything the best she could, but it's just so stressful like I try really hard to keep my things separate, I like to think if they go through the dishwasher they're sanitary but that's not always guaranteed because, gestures to the above words, sometimes behind my back my grandpa will not put my cutlery (blatantly mine, is bright colored plastic for children) in the dishwasher at all and just rinse it and put it back and i don't even know why like forks don't take up so much space in the dishwasher, he does it with the regular silverware too sometimes which is gross but I keep begging him to stop "hand washing" anything of mine PLEASE just put it in the dishwasher, if I can't trust anything I use paper plates and plastic cutlery and solo cups, but it's exhausting, to keep up, and keep buying those things, and even then there's no guarantee I'm safe cause again like what can you even do when cough/sneeze shrapnel is all over the counters and fridge and everything, and it's still crazy to me that when I had strep everyone was suddenly more careful than ever to not get sick from me, when I'm the one most vulnerable, it feels like just days after I was done with the antibiotics I feel congested and shitty again like that's really just my default state, while I was taking them I felt pretty great, which I'm gonna mention to my doctor I think like uhhh that seems kinda weird to me

Anyway I just wish I could move cause like i barely get to leave the house yet I'm still not even getting the At Least I'm less exposed to pathogens, it's the opposite of having your cake and eating it too, but! I can't afford it and I'm not mentally willing to do any roommates anymore my ptsd from a million things is too strong and it doesn't help that when I visited my partner their sister triggered all of that and CONTINUES to be insane like lying to her family making up stories about things I allegedly did while my partner was at work like I'm so scary and the adults just believe it and I'm like,,, I was asleep, but that's very reminiscent of insane shit in the past like one of the people I lived it in real time messaging a mutual (their now ex) friend that I was yelling and throwing a fit and being crazy when I was actually in the living room with my headphones on watching tuca and bertie,, I just want to live alone or with my partner (and we're working on that but it's rough between their lease stuff and immigration things) but if I could just afford to live alone in a shitty apartment I'd be fine but these days even the cockroach and bedbug infested studios are like $900+ /mo no utilities included no washer dryer MUST make >2.5x rent to be approved

[bakingwithmair]

Journal Two - Naan

Welcome back! This next recipe is naan, a leavened flatbread that's usually dipped in curry or hummus. It seemed like a middle skill level compared to the simpler banana bread and artisan bread. I used this recipe because the instructions were relatively simple and I didn't need an electric mixer to knead the dough. Also, there are pictures of every step off the recipe that are super helpful to reference.

There aren't many ingredients, but I did have to go to the store for plain yogurt, yeast, and anise seeds. I felt kind of confident at the start, although a bit of me also believed I would mess up and end up with inedible goo.

Yeast is required, which I've never used, so I went out and bought the key rising ingredient. They only came in packs of three which I was slightly annoyed by at first, but remembered I have two more breads to make and need to stock up on yeast anyway.

The recipe instructed I use a fork to mix the wet and dry ingredients, which took a while to get the consistency it needed. When I got to kneading by hand, the stickiness of the dough made me cringe. Some of it wouldn't scrape off, I even washed my hands halfway through the process to melt the globs of dough stuck on my fingers.

Working with my hands like this relaxed me. Not at first, when its super sticky, but once its a rubbery ball of dough ready to rise. Folding the dough over itself over and over again is calmly productive.

I covered it with plastic wrap and let it rest in my bedroom for one hour. Here's the dough before and that process.

There we go!

Like the recipe said, the dough doubled in size. It felt like getting a present to come back to a fluffy bowl of dough.

I shaped the dough into a flat naan without a measurer, which I now regret. I think most of them ended up too thick and not big enough. Without a rolling pin, I used the pink cup above to roll the dough. I got super focused on each piece, making sure they were all the same size and thin enough. I swear, I would roll a chunk of dough into a perfect flat slice, only for it to shrink into something more resembling a brick.

The piece of naan above looks like a hot pocket, I just noticed.

The room got so smoky, I put the electric fan on blast since I'm always scared of setting off the fire alarm. Each side cooked on the pan for a minute. However, the smell of char and smoke made me anxious, and I definitely flipped some pieces over thirty seconds too early.

I spread a small amount of butter and sprinkled some parsley on the bread, then set them in a towel-lined plate to keep them warm, like the recipe suggests.

So, here's the finished product(s). Fresh off the pan, I was really worried about the taste. There's greek yogurt in it, am I gonna taste that? The anise seed's distinct smell made for an equally distinct taste. It was an optional ingredient, and not one I think I'd use again. The parsley and butter added a nice little touch of extra flavor.

I tried the bread with my roommates, and the general consensus was very positive! I was certain they were all gonna taste like raw dough, but once they were cool and I figured out which ones were undercooked, I tasted a pretty good piece of bread! My roommates asked me to make them again soon- I think I might!

I never had such an interest in baking savory things like bread. But I really want to use this recipe again, or a different one, with my own modifications (no anise seeds!)

I'm still unsure exactly what bread I'll make next, but it'll definitely be a loaf. I'm thinking maybe sour dough?

Bye!

[osakunt]

A new era has begun. Please meet osakunt.

I’m still going by as Yess. I’m still a girl, I’m still a she/her/ that bitch 🫣

The layout is staying the same but the theme is here lmao.

yesamu was the soft side but osakunt is here to show our nasty side…..even more (?)

[viviennevermillion]

Eating instant ramen at 2am

notes: starting to write on my own whim for a while and this is the first idea I had, idk what this says about me but I have dated before and I can confirm that this is definitely a bonding experience

characters included: riddle rosehearts, leona kingscholar, idia shroud, malleus draconia

contains: character x gn!reader

warnings: none

Riddle is....not amused with this idea. Absolutely not on board with this.

His mum didn't even allow him to eat strawberry tarts, there's no way he ever even got close to instant ramen. He was told fast food and instant food was the devil's invention

He's so sceptical. Literally looks at you like "We shouldn't even be in the kitchen at this time, we should be fucking asleep what are you doing to my poor schedule?!"

The reason he is in this predicament is that you couldn't sleep and had him resting in your lap but at some point became too hungry to even try and fall asleep comfortably so you wanted to get up and grab a snack, unfortunately waking your slumbering boyfriend in the process.

So he decided to accompany you to the kitchen because you could never remember which foods were needed for following the rules of the Queen of Hearts accordingly and which were fine to just snack.

He sat down at the table and his eyes wandered to the fruit plate. But you had other plans, opening the cupboard and pulling out two plastic cups with instant ramen.

"I didn't even plan to eat anything. Also is this your idea of a midnight snack??", Riddle looked at you with a shocked expression. "Not midnight, 2am", you argued, ripping the lid off the cup noodles and turning on the water boiler. "That doesn't make it better, you know", Riddle buried his face in his hands, "actually that only makes it worse."

You chuckled and poured water onto the noodles. Riddle is like "what are you doing why are you making two 🤦🏻‍♀️" and you just grin at him.

He's very conflicted because on one hand he grew up being told he shouldn't eat food like this but it was also a rule not to throw away food. According to your opinion that made it a loophole. Not that you encouraged him to keep sticking to his mother's rules anyway but Riddle had to take small steps.

He eventually begrudgingly eats them and noticed they don't actually taste as badly as he's been told. Still not healthy but he wasn't planning to eat them again anytime soon.

"This would get me into so much trouble at home", he stated. "So would dating me and you still decided to do it", you shrugged. Mrs. Rosehearts had no idea her son had fallen in love. Or overblotted. Or broken several of her rules. "You know that's different", Riddle pouted. "It's not", you argued and gave him fingerguns. He just shook his head in disappointment but kept eating, hoping no one would come into the kitchen who he'd have to explain this to. Then again he was the dorm leader. No one remembered all the rules anyway he could just make up a new one to justify this.... NO. What was he thinking? Lying about the rules was against the rules, why was he even considering making up rules?!

"You're a bad influence", he sighed, still wearing a pouting expression on his face but grabbed your hand across the table and held it in his own. "And yet you love me", you winked at him and he chuckled. "That I do", Riddle affirmed and pressed a kiss to your hand.

"We should add 'You shouldn't have an existential crisis over cup noodles on a Saturday' to the rules", you mused and Riddle just rolled his eyes at you but had to admit that this was exactly the type of thing that the Queen of Hearts would put into her rules.

He enjoyed the instant ramen but he would never admit that over his dead body

Leona eats instant ramen regularly. He's kinda torn because yes, they barely have any vegetables but they also barely have any meat. But they're the fastest warm meal he can easily make, so they'll work well with his unmotivated and depressed mood.

This is a habit he definitely started after coming to NRC because at the palace the food was prepared for him by the staff. He was sceptical too at first because how could you prepare noodles like this in just 5 minutes but his lack of motivation eventually got the better of him and he tried them and found them acceptable.

Leona is very protective of you so sometimes when you remove his arms around you and get up he actually wakes up. "Where are you going herbivore?", he mumbles, half-asleep. When you tell him you're going to make yourself some instant ramen he just asks you to bring some for him too. You just hoped he'd still be awake by the time it was done.

Leona usually has no problem preparing easy things like this for you and bringing you food but nothing gets this man out of bed at 2am that isn't necessarily a catastrophe or you suffering in any way so you'll have to be the one to go to the kitchen this time.

Leona generally sleeps shirtless because Savanaclaw dorm is so warm and also he likes having you snuggle against his chest and feeling your warm skin against his, so you raise your eyebrows at him when he only sits up halfway and eats the noodles with a spoon. "This looks like a disaster waiting to happen." "Only if you're stupid enough to spill the fucking water", he replies with a grumpy tone. You chuckle and affectionately scratch his ears before eating your own cup of ramen.

Even though it's 2am and you're eating instant ramen he asks you "How are you enjoying your meal?", like you're in a 5 star restaurant and gives you a smirk.

If he's done earlier than you he'll stick his spoon into your ramen and eat part of yours as well and you just look at him like "seriously?!"

"First you steal my heart and now you steal my instant noodles, what do I even get out of this relationship?", you tease him and he presses a kiss to your neck and his tail flicks from side to side. "You get my love and affection", he says and wraps his arms around you while letting you finish the rest of your cup.

You're about to get up to throw the empty cups into the trash can under Leona's desk as he holds you back and places them on the nightstand and pulls you back into his arms to snuggle. "Ruggie will clean these up in the morning." "You're so questionable sometimes", you sigh but Leona just chuckles and decides to shut you up with kisses.

His kisses become more and more lazy until he's asleep holding you in his embrace again.

Another one who eats instant noodles regularly. Probably even more often than Leona. If you like eating them, chances are this is already a ritual.

When Idia plays video games or watching streams until late at night, he often eats instant noodles when he needs a snack because it's very quickly prepared.

He keeps the cup noodles in his room and Ortho has a built-in water boiling function so you don't even need to go to a kitchen for this.

At some point you actually convince him to try and cook dinner with you but the only things Idia knows about cooking are from anime cooking ASMR's so he kinda fucks the soup up.

So you decide to just make instant noodles again later.

Idia has favorite instant ramen brands and flavors and sometimes you convince him to go to Sam's shop with you and he goes through the shelves and is like "this one is my favorite" and "oh they brought back the limited edition one"

He's literally excited to eat them

When he plays games or streams as well as when you eat cup noodles he lets you sit on his lap of course. While you wait for the noodles to get ready he places kisses onto your neck and wraps his arms around your waist and affectionately draws circles onto your stomach or thighs with his fingertips. Or lets you bury your face in his oversized shirts

These are usually the moments where you share some of your inside jokes.

Idia loves to stay up with you late and just joke around and share his passions with you. Man's thriving.

Excessively comments on the taste of the noodles like he's a famous food critic and you just watch him amused. "This one doesn't taste like it used to" or "As always this brand brings me a lot of joy when I play games".

He lets you try from his cup too if you've never tried that kind before

Usually finishes his instant noodles before you so he'll be clinging to you and placing kisses onto your neck and shoulders. Sometimes he'll nibble on your skin.

"Idia I'm eating." "This is eating with heightened difficulty level."

Idia is just super affectionate at 2am. He's used to your warmth and affection, he's not letting go of you just for eating, that'd be colder and less comfortable and he'd probably complain until you give him a kiss and let him snuggle up to you again

Also one who doesn't throw away the cups until the next morning. Or Ortho throws them into the trash. One of those two options.

Malleus doesn't even know what instant noodles are.

Baffled. Perplexed. Fascinated. His mind is blown.

Malleus barely even sleeps so when he notices you waking up in his arms he'll press his lips to yours to wake you with a soft kiss.

You two hadn't eaten much for dinner because it was Lilias cooking. You explain to him that you're hungry and feel like eating a cup of instant ramen and he's like

"What is instant ramen?"

Congratulations, you just opened an entirely new can of worms

You tell him it'd be easier to just show him and lead him to the kitchen. Malleus holds your hand all the way and he's curious what you're going to show him.

He watches you silently as you take the cups from the shelves, boil water, pour the boiling water onto the noodles and stir. He's so intrigued. It's like that time he first took a car at Scalding Sands, he's just silent and looks at you with his surprised Malleus face™.

Convinced this is similar to witchcraft and potion-making and you don't have the heart to tell him that it's cheap, questionable industrial production.

He will go on and on about how incredible it is that you can prepare a meal like this and can't wait to try it out

Genuinely loves the cup noodles and comments on how tasty they are

When he learns there are different kinds he definitely wants to try them. Also wants a second cup of noodles right then and there because there wasn't much in his compared to how much Malleus usually eats. And how could you say no to his cute surprised face?

You can't help but chuckle at how confused and fascinated he is by this

He also asks you whether you're enjoying your meal like you're at a 5 star restaurant but unlike Leona he actually says this completely unironically.

He also treasures if you just talk to him about whatever crosses your mind while eating the noodles. He appreciates the casual atmosphere and holds your hand.

Instant noodles actually become one of his favorite foods and Sebek has half a heart attack when he finds out you made instant ramen of all things for the great Prince Malleus of Briar Valley.

Meanwhile Malleus is just pouting when he's told how unhealthy they are. He's an overpowered immortal dragon fae, this isn't gonna hurt him. Sebek doesn't comment on this afterwards. He respects Wakasamas decision.

Lilia is very amused by this. He's pleased that Malleus is discovering something so simple and human for himself.

Malleus wonders whether Lilia would be able to make instant ramen or whether it would just taste like his usual food

He also mails them to his grandma at some point

Definitely buys them more often now

[stitchkiss]

tell me a story about u

bestie you know more of my stories than anyone and you still want more?? i can’t believe you aren’t sick of them yet lmaoo. i’ll tell you a few from that liam-esque list i sent you a while back.

GATHER ROUND KIDS!! STORYTIME!!

story 1: idek when this was probably when i was like 13 but anyway we were gardening n shit and i was by all the tools takin a break bc i planted like 20 zucchini seeds (bad idea in hindsight all we ate that summer was zucchini) and i was tired. so i look down and there’s a garden hoe next to me and i’m getting flashbacks to my childhood when i watched tom and jerry obsessively and i think “huh. i wonder what would happen if i stepped on it” guess what happened. smacked me right in the face the second i stepped on it. blood went everywhere. face, clothes, tools, soil. brother is laughing. sister rushing for towels. mom making sure my nose wasn’t broken. dad wishing i was never born. my face messy with tears n blood n sweat. i consider this a win bc not only did i get to live out a childhood fantasy but i didn’t have to garden for the rest of the day!

story 2: i am. dumb. and impulsive. and i think movie magic applies to me. all this, but i’m 9 years old. we had just moved and a perk was that a golf cart came w the house. so when, for reasons i can’t remember, there was a dirt hill in my backyard i knew EXACTLY what to do with it bc i had just watched wreck it ralph AND played a mario kart tournament the night before so i know a ramp when i see one. see where im going w this? when i saw the dirt hill i got on the golf cart and fuckin floored it. the thing is, i didn’t know that the dirt wasn’t packed in, so it was too soft for the tires. i did not make it over. the cart tipped over and i fell out. it almost crushed me. the funniest part ab this is when my mom came over to check on me she was like “i saw you speed off and i KNEW what you were doing” i wasn’t allowed to try it again.

3. i had a goldfish named herbert. i won him at a festival when i was like 12 and he came in a plastic baggie like from finding nemo. so i brought him home and i quickly realized i had no place to put him bc he was my first (and only) fish. so i threw out these flowers my mom had in this really big vase and i put him in it instead. during this time i didnt have a phone bc i accidentally broke it a few days before when i was jump roping and had it in my pocket and it flew out. SO i didn’t know what to feed herbert bc no google and neither did anyone else and they didn’t want to help me raise my new son so i had to figure this out by myself. do you know what i fed him instead of fish food? ritz crackers. how tf was i supposed to know the salt from the crackers would kill him. the concept of “freshwater fish” eluded me at the time. i woke up the next day and he was floating at the top of the vase. but the worst part of this story? i was preparing a small, intimate funeral for herbert bc he deserved nothing less and i took him out of the vase and put him on a plate. then i left for like 5 minutes to make sure my brother and sister were going to be in attendance and to throw some rose petals in the toilet bc if i was gonna flush him it might as well be beautiful. but. when i went back to the kitchen to get herbert, my cat was eating him.

4. last story! my cousins and i are really close and we do this thing when all of us are available and we call it a version of guy’s grocery games based on who the judge is that night (we replace the g with our initial) where we each make food but change it up in a creative way. this time was pizza. i teamed up w one of my cousins and we decided to make a pizza based off the fast food chain raising canes. so we go to canes and order a bunch of chicken and fries and bread and we even got a cup full of canes sauce for $5 and we also bought a premade pizza dough. the pizza was DIVINE and i’d eat it again but be warned you need pepto bismal on hand if you eat it bc it’ll rly fuck up ur insides. but, even tho it was the best invention ever, we didn’t fucking win. what did we lose to, you ask? a ramen pizza. my brother and his gf made it w the recipe I SENT HIM!! but the thing is, this recipe called for soy sauce and my cousin is allergic to soy. my brother asked me for his allergy list in preparation and i forgot to put it on there. so my cousin was ab to take a bite when my brain connected the very very important dots and i smacked it out of his hand.

hope u enjoyed all that!!