#so its sitting on the stove. i already have a tupperware out for it just dont let me forget

[possum-tooth]

i wish you could like replies

[strawberryspence]

A Dinner and A Future

Fluff | Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer just wants your first date to be perfect and surprisingly, it goes really well.

Word Count: 3,7k.

Warnings: some cursing, first date nerves, but that's it. just pure mindless fluff.

Writer’s Note: Hello! I've been going through a writing dry spell and the thing that solved it was writing this. I've been seeing a lot of edits on tiktok about Spencer's traumas and I just wanted to give him something simple and happy. I was also listening to Kodaline on repeat while reading this, so yeah it's going be hella sappy. Enjoy! <3

Gif is mine. Lesley Smith-Juniment, you have my heart.

Spencer is nervous.

Wait no, scratch that, nervous is not good enough. He was brimming to the edge with worry and queasiness. What other synonyms does nervous have? Spencer was antsy, anxious, perturbed, uneasy, at this point he can recite the whole thesaurus.

Spencer closes his eyes and takes a deep breathe. He can do this. He has waited for this for a long time and he won’t waste it because of burnt pasta.

Okay, he looks back at the note that David Rossi himself wrote in his own special handwriting.

1. Cook 1 pound pasta until Al Dente. Boy Genius, Al Dente should be firm when bitten. You cook it on a boiling water with salt and oil. SALT AND OIL.

2. While that’s cooking, do nothing. LITERALLY DO NOTHING. Watch it. Do the sauce later. In some miraculous way, if you don’t watch the pasta you’ll burn it.

A grin spreads across Spencer’s face as he puts down the paper and reaches for the fettuccine pasta and dropping it on the boiling water (which he measured with measuring cups he borrowed from JJ)

“Okay, now I wait for it to boil.” Spencer stares at the pasta as it cooks. Did he buy enough parmesan cheese? or enough pecorino cheese? Oh no. He looks over the other side of his counter where all the (complete) ingredients sit and he sighs in relief as if he hasn’t checked it 15 times since he started.

The pasta was still cooking and isn’t going to be firm anytime soon. Spencer ponders if he should just cook the sauce while waiting but he knows he’s going to mess it up if he doesn’t give it his undivided attention.

He looks at the watch on his wrist as it ticks to 5:21. He has one hour, thirty nine minutes and forty six seconds. He still has time before the date. The date with you.

It took him nine months, Derek and Emily annoying him to death to just ask the pretty librarian out, one extensive background research from Penelope, two separate talks of the “You deserve to be happy” advice from JJ and Hotch and one lecture about marriage from Rossi to finally ask you out.

He’s kinda annoyed really because he spent so much time thinking about you and thinking of the perfect way to ask you out but he shows up at the library you work at one day with a cup of coffee in hand and his heart on the other.

You didn’t even hesitate. There was no pause to process what he asked, there was no questions following the embarrassing stumbling of the words, “W-will you go have d-dinner with me? L-like a date... Date?” You immediately said yes with a small hop and the biggest smile on your face.

This date has to be perfect. He asked you to come to his apartment at 7. Spencer would’ve picked you up but he was making you a home made dinner and the date was taking place on the rooftop of you apartment, which Penelope and Derek helped him decorate with lights.

He tries the pasta and when its finally firm to the bite, he takes this as his queue to read the paper again. Of course, he can remember all of the instructions but Rossi still wrote it down and reading it calms his nerves.

3. If its cooked, drain your pasta water but leave a little pasta water on the side. Then you can continue.

4. In a pan on MEDIUM heat (just around 2-3 on the stove setting) cook one pound diced pancetta and 1 cup chopped onions in olive. Put this down and chop chop!

Spencer puts the paper down as he follows the instructions to drain the pasta. After he was done with it he puts the pan on the stove and starts chopping up the ingredients he needs.

Cooking is strangely calming. He never thought he’d find it calming. He always found himself burning stuff. So he sticks to the microwaveable meals and fast foods, even if he knows the statistics about these kinds of food.

After finishing the chopping he reaches over the paper and reads it again.

5. Are you done? Okay. Put the chopped stuff on the pan with olive oil and cook it until the pancetta is browned and onions are soft.

He immediately follows the instructions written. The onion and pancetta create a silent hiss as it hits the pan. As it cook he looks down again.

6. That’s going to take a while, so leave it but stay by its side. I am giving you permission to do two things at once. Dr. Reid, please be mindful of it.

Spencer rolls his eyes before proceeding to #7.

7. Combine the two cheeses. Then divide it in half. Then pour the half into 4 egg YOLKS. Just yolks! The yellow ones! Then beat it lightly until its really combined.

He has already separated the egg yolks from the whites (a job he didn’t think would be that hard but was surprisingly very hard) before he started cooking. He adds the combination of cheeses to the eggs and lightly beats it as he watches the pan of onions and pancetta sizzle.

When done with the egg and cheese combo, he gives the pan a stir before looking back down.

8. Is the egg done? Yes? Good. Is the pancetta and onion good? Yes? Good.

9. Okay, now you put your pasta in the pancetta pan.

10. REMOVE IT FROM THE HEAT! REMOVE IT!

Spencer follows the instructions to the T. He puts the pasta on the pancetta, gives it a stir and immediately removes it from the heat. He sighs in relief. He hasn’t burned anything yet.

11. You haven’t burned anything yet? I am proud of you.

12. Now, pour the egg mixture into the pan and toss the pasta until coated. TOSS IT GENTLY. If you’re scared use tongs.

13. Pour about 1/4 cup of the pasta water I told you to set aside earlier. You don’t have to pour all 1/4 cup, just until you get the creaminess you want.

Spencer reaches over the nearest tongs. He’s not going to toss anything tonight that involves pastas or pans. He’s taking the safe road because he wants everything to be perfect.

14. Add the rest of your cheese! Toss some more and then add salt and pepper as NEEDED!

15. You can serve it with parsley.

16. Now, go take a shower and change into some cleaner clothes.

17. Just be you and have fun, Spencer. Goodluck! :)

Spencer smiles as he puts the paper down and makes the finals touches to the pasta. He starts doing what was instructed and it surprisingly, ends up in the perfect texture. Just like the one he tasted when Rossi had a pasta night.

He was proud of himself as he takes it off the stove and makes sure that all the stoves are turned off. There was this report he read in 2018, that cooking and leaving the stove open was the leading cause of home fires.

He takes the food, puts it into a fancy tupperware (another thing he borrowed from JJ) and puts it in the microwave. He cleans up a little and stuffs the pans and pots to the dishwasher, because you are coming in his apartment even for a second.

He starts getting himself ready for the date with a shower. As the warm water glides through his body he thinks of how funny life could be.

Spencer first meets you in the library. He has not slept well in weeks so instead he opts to go to the library to get some reading done. But as soon as he sits in one of the (surprisingly) comfortable leather chairs, its as if sleep knocks him out. It wasn’t until the closing time that you wake him up and he thinks that you were an angel sent for him. This elicits a giggle from you.

“I am sorry, I am not an angel. I am just the librarian and we’ve been close for over an hour now. I just didn’t want to wake you up. You looked like you really needed that sleep.” Spencer immediately jumps to his feet as he apologizes profusely to the kind librarian, “Oh, it’s okay! Don’t say sorry. I was also reading so I didn’t mind the peace and quiet.”

That’s how Spencer meets you. He comes back a few days later after a case with coffee, croissant and an apology. You immediately become friends and thats how all of this started. Spencer finds himself falling in love with the kind, gorgeous, clever librarian faster than he expected.

Every week after that, Spencer comes to the library with pastries and coffees for his favourite librarian and every week, you welcome Spencer with a warm smile and a new book for him to read. He can read it in one sitting but he reads it in the slowest pace he could so it can last for a week.

Spencer comes out the shower and stares at his closet. Should he go casual or formal? Casual or formal? Its just dinner, he’s chill and casual is the way. He picks one of the few plaid shirts that he has and puts it on with a white shirt underneath. He tries to brush his hair, it sits for a moment before it starts curling again. He cringes but leaves it be.

Spencer proceeds to the kitchen to start packing the food into a wicker basket (that he also borrowed from JJ, he basically borrowed her whole kitchen). He packs the utensils in a table napkin that comes with the basket. The main course for the date was the carbonara, and the dessert was a tiramisu Penelope made.

He reaches over his sofa where the bouquet of paper flowers are. He made it a few nights ago with Penelope’s help. He stayed up to make more of it with old books he found in the BAU.

Because what kind of flowers is the best flowers for librarians? Origami flowers made with old book pages.

He shouldn’t be nervous. You’ve been friends for all the months that he didn’t have enough courage to ask you out. You’ve taken trips to old bookstores together for book hunting. This shouldn’t be different from your other trips.

The pitter patter of rain against his window takes him out of his thoughts.

“Shit! Is it raining!?” Spencer yelps, before opening the closed curtains. Beads of water runs down his windows and if its any other day he would love it. But not tonight, when he planned a rooftop date. He cringes as he thinks of the fairy lights hanged up and the table set up that is probably soaked now.

“Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Think, Spencer, think.” Spencer thinks fast. He finds the extra table cloth that JJ gave him because “Just in case.” He reminds himself to buy her a bottle of wine as a thank you. He places it in his small kitchen table before taking the utensils out of the basket and placing it on the table in a fancy way.

Candles. Does he have candles? Spencer scrambles around his kitchen, like a chicken without its head, looking for candles and he finds it underneath the kitchen sink. He lights some of it up and props it into some glasses (he doesn’t have a candle holder he realizes after lighting it up).

With the lights dimmed down leaving the light from the window and the light from the candles, his dark apartment gives off a romantic, kind of comfortable, vibes. It was kind of perfect because with the books on his shelves and the lighting, it actually has the same vibes a library gives off.

He was ready now, bouquet of paper flowers in hand. He can’t believe how smooth things are going, minus the damn rain. Only thing that’s missing is you.

A knock comes to the door and he instantly opens it. There you were, hair a bit wet and messed up from the rain.

His future was bundled up in a cozy cardigan and a pair of jeans right in front of his eyes and he didn’t even know it.

“Hi.” Spencer smiles.

“Hi.” You smile.

-

“A little to the right. No. No. Too much right, now give it a little bit to the left.” You sigh, your hand under your chin, “No, no, baby, its crooked.”

“Love, can we do this later? The pancetta is going to burn.” Spencer laughs as he climbs down the ladder with the frame.

“But you said you’ll help me with putting up the frames!” You pout at him, Spencer chuckles before kissing your nose, “I know but you also asked for my famous carbonara and I can’t do both at the same time.”

“Hmmm. I still don’t think you can call it yours when its originally Dave’s.” You follow him to the kitchen, zigzagging through the boxes of books you’ve both barely opened.

“What he doesn’t know, won’t kill him.” He winks at you before giving the pancetta and onions a stir.

“It already smells good, love.” You snake your arms through his waist and lean your head on his back. Spencer lets go of the spatula and spins around to face you.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Go unbox some of the books and I’ll call you when its cooked so we can fix the frames. Okay?” Spencer kisses the top of your head and lets you go.

You walk out of the kitchen to the hallway full of boxes full of books. You chuckle as you open the nearest box and its just full of chemistry books. You push it to the room where Luke, Derek and Spencer has built shelves for all of your books. An olive green couch sits in the corner beside the built in fireplace.

Hmmm. This is your home library but as a former librarian the dewey decimal is calling you. But then again, the books you and Spencer have doesn’t have classifications on them. You began unpacking the chemistry books and placing it on the shelf. You can hear the distinct hiss of the pan and Spencer humming Kodaline’s The One.

You push in another box from the hallway to the room and its another one of Spencer’s, this one full of philosophy books. You start unpacking it to the shelf below the chemistry books before stopping as you pull out a book that doesn't belong with the philosophy books. A smile graces your face as your hands glides unto it. It was the book Spencer bought for you on your first anniversary.

The Peter Pan cover is a bit tattered, it was an older edition he found in your favorite old bookstore. You open the book and Spencer’s messy writing greets you with nostalgia.

“We are most alive when we are in love. Thank you for making me feel alive everyday for the past year. Happy Anniversary, love. I live a full life as I love you fully.”

You smile at the book before hugging it to your chest. You sigh deeply as you looked around the room and how it felt so surreal to be in the new home you share with Spencer.

“Love, I am finish. Come meet me in the hallway!” You leave the book on the shelf as you hear Spencer calling you.

“Are you helping me with the frames?” You clap, excited to finally put up the frames. Spencer smiles as he sees you excited to put up the pictures.

“Yes, okay you need to tell me if they’re straight okay?” He instructs before climbing the ladder.

“To the right, just a bit. Oh! Perfect!” You scramble to reach for another frame as he comes down the ladder to move it, “Here! This one.” He climbs again and you instruct him with directions for the frame again.

After a few more frames, he finally comes down and looks at the frames you asked to be put up.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Spencer smiles down at you and gives your cheek a kiss as he wraps his hands around your waist, “It is. Thank you for framing them.”

The frames comes in different shapes and forms, the biggest one in the middle is the picture of your wedding day. Your wedding took place in a library you immediately fell in love with when looking for places to get married at.

In the picture, you were smiling, your head rested on Spencer's shoulder as he reads a Harry Potter book he found in the kids section. It was a candid moment, both of you running to the back of the shelves to get a moment to yourselves after the wedding and the photographer snapped it before leaving the two of you in peace.

Beside it are pictures with the team on the wedding day, some on thanksgiving, christmas, new year with the BAU team, some with your family, some with Diana and in the corner is a shadow box containing the paper bouquet that Spencer gave you on your first date, the same exact flowers that was in your hands as you walk down the aisle to him.

“So, how's the first six months of officially being a Reid-Y/L/N?” Spencer teases as he lets you go from the back hug to face you and you roll your eyes at him, “Oh very hard. They hear Reid and they immediately expect greatness.”

Spencer laughs, “Same as the last name Y/L/N.” This time your the one who laughs at his statement, “Uhhh. I am not the one with 3 PhDs and 3 BAs.”

“And I am not the one whose a New York Times best selling author.” Spencer laughs even more when he sees your nose crinkles, making his heart dance and swell in glee.

“Hey, let’s dance.” He takes your arms and leaves it on his shoulders as he wraps his arms on your waist.

“We don’t have music, you silly goofy boy.” Spencer rolls his eyes at the endearment used, “I’ll sing.” He hushes you down.

“You make my heart feel like it's summer when the rain is pouring down.” Spencer’s singing voice was soft and sweet in the edges. Most nights you lull him to sleep with your humming to keep the monsters at bay and some days, his better days, he’s the one who sings and these were the days you treasure the most.

“You make my whole world feel so right when it's wrong, that's how I know you are the one... That’s how I know you are the one.” He sways you to the gentle buzz of his voice. You close your eyes as he sings the same song he sings to your ears on the dance floor for you first dance as a married couple.

“When we are together, you make me feel like my mind is free and my dreams are reachable hmmm.” Spencer hums as he runs his hands on your back. Your head on his chest and your ear listening to the way his heart is beating for you.

“You know I never ever believed in love, I believed one day that you would come along and free me.” Spencer feels at ease as he sways and sings, knowing that he’ll have you in his arms for the rest of his life.

The song ends but you and Spencer continue to sway to the music of silence.

“Can you believe its been 4 years since our first date?” Spencer asks, in disbelief of how fast time is running when he’s with you. You pull away from his chest so you can face him. You find a small spark in Spencer’s eyes as he thinks fondly of the night.

“Really? 4 years since our first date got rained on and Penelope cried because we broke all her fairy lights?” Spencer laughs before protesting, “Hey! I paid for that!”

"4 years later and I still can't get enough of that damn carbonara." Spence cackles, like an evil villain, "Don't tell Rossi that I stole his recipe for my beautiful partner."

"4 years later and I am still completely in love with you." Spencer smiles as he leans down to place a small kiss on your temple.

"4 years since I almost completely lost my mind because I was so nervous about our date." You roll your eyes, "Love, our first date was perfect. We've had this debate how many times now?"

"19 times." Spencer answers and you pinch his nose before looking around the room that’s still full of unopened boxes, “See. We should probably eat lunch and unpack. Why do we even have so many boxes of books?”

“Honey, you were a librarian and you are a writer. I am a professor and FBI agent that can read 20,000 words per minute.” Spencer answers as he looks around the unpacked house.

You smile fondly at him before standing on your tiptoes a bit to reach him and give him a kiss and he immediately steadies you with his hands. Kissing you was intoxicating and Spencer loves every bit of it. You only pull away when the kiss finally takes away your breathe.

“I love you, Spence.” You smile as you hold his face in your hands, “I love you more, sweetheart.” He smiles at you as you untangle yourself from him.

“Let’s eat your famous carbonara and unpack the rest of our house. It doesn’t really feel like home when all we can see is boxes.” You giggle before dragging him to the kitchen, making Spencer sit on the island as you prepare the pasta he cooked. Spencer watches you as you sing and dance through the kitchen in one of his old cardigans.

He doesn’t say anything but you were wrong. Home is not four walls with unpacked boxes and hundreds of books.

Home was when you showed up bundled in a cardigan, wet from the rain for your first date with him and home is still you, four years later, bundled up in his old cardigans and singing songs that magically fills and heals the crevices of his heart.

-

the recipe i copied for the famous carbonara!

taglist (if you want to be added, please message me 🥰): @all-tings-diego @shemarmooresfedora @averyhotchner @samuel-de-champagne-problems @bingereid

[sapnxps]

(WTL) Chapter One: Greg the Neighbor- Georgenotfound x Reader

If I knew that when I moved to London, I'd have two weird neighbors, I'd laugh in your face. Now I'm friends with an old cat lady. Now I'm enemies with my cute neighbor that's definitely not single, who also screams too much.

Even though he's a dick, why can't I stop thinking about him?

My parents told me I’d regret moving to London from the state before I left because I’d miss them and the US too much.

They were half right.

I’m sitting on a box messily labeled ‘kitchen’ in the hallway of my new apartment complex. I huff, wiping the sticky sweat from my forehead. The moving bill is almost 4 thousand dollars. If I knew moving would be this expensive, I wouldn’t have moved out from my parent’s house until I was 40. Sure, I moved a lot of my belongings across the Atlantic ocean, but 4 thousand dollars? Who do I look like, Jeff Bezos?

Today has been hectic, to say the least. Three of my boxes somehow drifted away to Spain. Don’t ask me how that happened, I don’t even know. I’ve been unpacking by myself all day. A box of my kitchenware got shattered upon arrival. I should’ve listened to my Mom on that one, she told me to just buy plates and glasses here instead of shipping them here. Big mistake I’m never making again. Finally, the biggest chunk of my problems: My apartment is full of boxes and I don’t feel like unpacking. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve been sleeping on an air mattress for two days, maybe not, but I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. If one more thing goes wrong, I think I might lose it.

Begrudgingly, I lift myself up from the box I was sitting on. It’s a bit dented now, but the way it felt on my ass, it’s just pots and pans. I open the door, pulling this box into my apartment. I weakly push it into the kitchen. It collides with one of the boxes filled with shattered plates. The sound of the broken glass sliding across the box sounded like nails on a chalkboard. I need to make a note to properly dispose of that. Turning my head to look around my new home, I feel my brain's short circuit. All these boxes unpacked, I’ve barely made a dent. This is going to take for-fucking-ever. Moving is modern-day torture. Oh, that’s funny. Remember to tweet that later.

The next three hours of my life are taken up by filling up my kitchen cabinets and drawers with cutlery and various kitchen utensils. The counter was now less bare, housing my toaster and breadbox. My Tupperware containers sat in a special place in the far-right cabinet by the sink. It looked like this home was lived in, as long as you didn’t glance anywhere else besides the kitchen.

I soon after tackled the bathroom, which was the less intimidating room compared to the living room and bedroom. I got the shower curtain hung up, which made it look nice. The rug found its way to the floor, protecting my feet from the cold, cream tile. The shelves were now stocked with a few fluffy peach towels and soaps. Underneath the sink had cleaning supplies as well as spare toilet paper. Living alone meant having nobody to give you another roll if you finish the other one. Kinda sucks. I had a boyfriend during high school, and two years into college. I dreamed of living with him, we planned it all out. I’d finish college, we’d move to a city and rent out the tiniest apartment we could find. We’d live it out until eventually we made ends meet and the rest would be. Dreams cut short though, he cheated. It’s part of why I left in the first place. Needed a change of scenery, new people.

That’s where I am now. New people. Stuck on that part. Haven’t gotten a chance to meet any, which is oh so tragic. I can’t decide if I want to introduce myself to the neighbors or let them come to me? I’m stuck pondering on the thought until I hear a knock at the door. I wonder if my lost boxes have mysteriously arrived.

Opening the door, I’m greeted with an older woman, holding out a small cake into my space.

“Hi dear, I’m your neighbor to the right. Heard all the commotion, saw all the boxes. I had to see for myself the fresh meat in the complex,” She paused before lightly tapping my arm with her free hand. “Just teasing! It’s great to have another lady on this level. The young man to your left, handsome fella, never comes out much though. Hopefully, we can have a girl posse or something,” Her posh accent made her much different than me. Is it wrong to already feel isolated?

I grin at her, moving out of the way to invite her in. “Nice to meet you, feel free to come in. I apologize for all the boxes scattered around, moving has been proven to not be quite my talent,”

The woman smiles brightly at me, shock plastered on her face. “You’re American!”

“That I am,” I chuckle. She hands me the cake, which I gladly accept. My diet has consisted of soggy hash browns from the complex lobby. She makes her way to what is settled in the living room, politely setting herself on my suede blue couch across from the large wall in the room. I place the cake on my counter by the stove, making a mental note to grab a slice once the woman leaves.

The shock never leaves her aged face, “Oh goodness! How amazing. I have a foreigner as my neighbor. You’ll find London quite lovely. I know how it feels to be isolated and removed from what you’re used to, but I promise you’ll fit right in,” She says as I settle myself on the loveseat a bit away from the couch.

“Where are you from?” I ask. She obviously isn’t American.

She smiles, “Just a bit east of Surrey. South of London. Beautiful area, grew up on a small cottage,” The woman was glowing as she spoke of her hometown. She was obviously proud of where she grew up. Compared to my southern Arizona town, this place seemed like heaven. A cottage? Sign me up.

“Sounds lovely,” I speak truthfully.

“Welp,” The woman slaps her laps, a way of signaling it’s time to end the conversation. Despite only speaking for a small amount of time, she seems like someone I can come to if I ever have questions about London or the terminology that I hear around the city. I’ll need to remember that she’s the neighbor to the right. As she began to see herself out, I remembered the other neighbor she mentioned. The young man to the left. I believe she used the term ‘handsome fella’ to describe him. Once she was out in the hall, I felt the need to find out more information.

“Oh!” I shout, hanging myself out into the hallway. She pauses her steps, turning back to me. “By the way, who’s my other neighbor? The guy you were telling me about. Does he have a name?” I ask.

“Greg,” She nods, resuming her short walk back to her apartment.

Greg. Ugly name.

I completely forgot about the conversation by dinner time. As I was munching down on my cake, delicious by the way, I heard loud yelling from my right side. I wouldn’t even call it yelling, more like high-pitched screaming. Who was my neighbor over there again? Greg? Greg. He was causing a ruckus and a mere heart attack at that. He was screaming so loud I nearly jumped out of my skin the first time I heard it. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he’s facing a very, very gruesome murder right now. Well, I guess I don’t know any better. I’m just wishing for the very best.

Another hour passes. The yelling never stops. It’s only 8, but my body is as awake as ever. I still have yet to get used to the new time zone. At times it was difficult, but I’m using it to my advantage now. I have some extra time to unpack and get my actual bed ready. My bed frame was put together professionally during lunch, so that was one thing checked off my list. The mattress I ordered was delivered yesterday. Now it was just the matter of putting the sheets on and preparing my duvet.

Fitted sheets fucking suck to put on a bed. I was currently struggling to put it on my nice mattress. It was edging close to 10 pm. The sky was dark, and I was stuck in some odd mixture of a starfish and the downward dog position. If this moment was a picture, it could be used for blackmail. The closer I got to finally getting the top right corner on my bed, the more stretched out I became. I was like one of those sticky hands you’d get in those toy dispensers at the grocery store. I was just about to get it, when another loud shriek could be heard. In shock, I slammed my head on the bed frame and lost grip of all four corners of the sheet.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mumbled underneath my breath.

Whatever. He probably has a greater reason to be screaming like this, right? Justified shouting, whatever you want to call it. My bedroom is closer to his apartment than the kitchen was. Is it nosey to try to figure out what he’s saying? I don’t want to be that type of neighbor. I’ll continue minding my business because I don’t want to find out some weird shit about Greg that I don’t want to know.

The screaming never stopped.

In fact, if anything, it got louder. And louder. And louder. Is it okay to call the cops here?

It’s midnight now. The next fucking day. And Greg is still screaming at the top of his lungs as if everyone else isn’t asleep. If I saw some normal citizen just trying to get some rest, I’d be fed up. Well, I’m still fed up. I’m also running on a messed-up sleep schedule, so it’s not like I was trying to sleep anyways. My bed is made now, and comfy as hell. I built a shelf to house some of my small decorations, with the entertainment of my noisy neighbor’s yells to accompany me. For some odd reason, it made me feel less lonely.

At about 2, I began to reject the company. I felt irritation grow in my chest as I heard the same high-pitched shrieks that I heard at 8. The annoyance that bubbled in me overtook my politeness. Before I knew it, I was up and in the hallway banging on his door. I didn’t have the time to care about my Daffy Duck pajamas sticking to my legs due to the heatwave hitting England right now. Before I even realize it, my fist is slamming on his door. I never knew I had the power to knock that hard, but my anger and blossoming resentment overpowered me. I continued banging until the door pulled away from its frame. Now I’m face to face with Greg.

Boy was he handsome.

I was met with a man, about 5 foot 9. His dark brown hair was disheveled. Strands of hair laid across his forehead messily. If he wasn’t screaming, I would’ve thought he was sleeping. He was wearing a fluorescent green hoodie with an odd smile plastered on the front. It was a bit large for his skinny frame, that’s unimportant though. His grey sweatpants were twisted on his legs. What the fuck was he doing? His face was delicately shaped. This jawline looks sharp yet fragile like it was constructed of the most fragile rose crystal I’d ever seen. His brown eyes reminded me of caramel, thick and way too easy to get lost in.

“Hi, uh Greg-” I start. I’m just realizing now how close I am to him. The scent of his spearmint gum floods my nostrils. It’s a bit powerful, crinkling my nose at the smell. It wasn’t gross, just very shocking.

“George,” He spat. That’s fucking embarrassing. I’m meeting him for the first time and I got his name wrong. I’m not taken aback for long though, because his attitude oozing from his simple correction was enough to disgust me. I’ve done nothing wrong to him, except maybe get his name wrong. Was my moving too much of a nuisance to him? Poor little British thing, he can deal with it.

I cringe, “Oh, um, sorry.”

He leans into the door frame, sweatshirt adjusting to the movement. Forget a tiny bit large, he was swimming in this thing. “Yeah, no problem. Can I help you or are you selling girl scout cookies at,” George checks his watch. “2 in the morning. If you are, I’m not interested, sorry ‘bout that,” His outfit makes me feel a lot less aware of mine. Despite his face being rather attractive, the outfit makes him look like he just rolled out of bed.

“Oh, yeah. I was wondering if you could lower the volume a bit, please. Or just stop screaming entirely, if possible. I don’t know if you have some weird shouting fetish, but I certainly don’t,” I chuckle. George, however, doesn’t chuckle. Actually, he looks rather unamused. If a human was an art museum, it would be George. Curling into a ball and falling into an endless void doesn’t sound too awful right now. I think I’ll add that to my itinerary. I’ll do it in my bed so I’m at least comfortable while I’m drowning in my own self-pity.

He grimaces, “Yeah. Sure.”

He’s blunt. Got it.

The second I turn my back to the door, it slams. Wow. What a cunt. Shaking the interaction off, I begin to feel the wear and tear of the day beginning to hit me. Moving all those boxes made my muscles ache. The solution to all my problems today seems to be going to bed. Not that I’m not okay with that, just funny. The day before I left for London, you’d think I was shocked by lightning. The electricity that was running through my veins was no match for any ADHD medicine the FDA had ever approved. Now, my body is beginning to fall victim to the earlier time zone. Not that it was a big deal, it was going to happen eventually. These next few days would just entail a difficult sleeping schedule. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.

I quickly find my way back to my own bedroom. The yelling was quieter, but I could still hear George through the thin walls. He was murmuring to someone softly. This apartment complex was all 1 bedroom apartments. He didn’t live alone. How lovely! I made a fool of myself to him, and he was most definitely telling his partner right now. Talk about dignity, am I right?

I scrolled through my phone for an hour, before the screaming returned to its original volume. Would it be overdramatic to say I felt my face go red with anger? I don’t think so. I think I handled the situation as politely as I could. Hell, I even cracked a joke so he could know I wasn’t that upset over the situation! If I knew he was going to resume his disruptive noises, I wouldn’t have been so nice or absolutely hilarious. Nobody that douchey gets my amazing humor. He didn’t even laugh! I hear another shout followed by a slam to a desk. What the fuck is wrong with this guy?

Welp. Welcome to London!

[secondhand-trash]

A/N: it’s been a long time without any new bentos but its back uwu I know we usually clown osamu a lot in this series but this one is kinda where we give him the appreciation he deserves hehe also its winter and I just have to write about something winter related so enjoy ouo

Warning: sickness, Osamu being baby

Word count: 2375

(click here to see more of Osamu’s bento)

(taglist in the notes, please go to the link in my bio or send me an ask to be added to the bento taglist uwu)

-

Winter in Hyogo was lovely, by all accounts. Not too chilly, but cold enough for the gentle sunshine gracing on your skin to feel like a blessing from the universe when you walked on the streets. 

It would have been a flawless season if you were to be given the luxury of staying underneath your thick, fluffy futon every morning after waking up until your body was sufficiently warmed up and the worst hours of the day had passed before you finally had to leave the comforting confines of your bed. But alas, you wouldn’t get paid for staying in bed and before the day that such a magical occupation becomes a reality, you still had no choice but to give up on the blissful warmth of your blankets at unholy hours in the morning before leaving for another day of sitting still in a cold office with nothing but lifeless documents as your company.

You let out a sigh as the blaring screech of your alarm kept ringing, shutting your eyes tight to relieve yourself of the soreness lingering behind your vision before turning it off in frustration. The room was still dark, and it would not be until you were ready to leave the door that any light would shine through the curtains.

That was winter work days for you, always making the offer of early retirement all the more tempting.

Rolling to your side, you sucked in a deep breath to brace the impact of what was to come before lifting up the corner of your futon that you would certainly miss throughout the day. The chilly air broke through the trapped heat within the layers. You shivered as you hastily searched for you cardigan that draped at your bed side table, slipping your toes that were numb from the cold into your room slippers. Osamu shifted in his sleep at the sudden evasion to his warm little bubble, curling up uncontrollably at the sudden loss of his heat source as you left the bed.

Wait, Osamu?

“Samu?” you called out for him gently, putting your hand on top of his body that was wrapped up by the blanket that he now occupied entirely. 

“Hm...”

There was a whimper that came from beneath the layers, hoarse and muffled as the man barely moved. 

No wonder why it was so quiet this morning. Osamu was rarely up later than you, always out of the bed at the first alarm to start preparing for the day. You had taken being woke up to the smell of warm breakfast and the sound of pan sizzling for granted with it being one of the few motivations you had to actually open your eyes. 

But right now, he was still in bed with seemingly no intention of waking up. You walked to his side of the bed, clutching your cardigan closer to your body as you bent down to push down the blanket that was covering his face just a little. His brows furrowed at the miniature, a bead of sweat appearing on his forehead as he clenched his jaw. His face was flushed but his lips looked dangerously chapped, the few strands of his bangs that had fallen down matted to his forehead.

“What time is it?” he asked groggily, the clear nasal in his voice making it sound like there was something stuck at the back of his throat as he spoke.

“8:30.” You replied, rubbing your hand along his arm as you took in his expression.

He shuddered at the time, kicking away the blanket but seemed more tangled up by it under his attempt as he shifted and tried to get up. “Shit... that’s so late. Why did I miss the alarm?”

You did not miss the way he nearly fumbled the moment his feet touched the ground, leaping forward to hold him by the shoulders before he could fall. 

You had expected it when you saw that he didn’t get up. Osamu rarely misses his alarm, and the number of times this had happened as a careless mistake on his part was near none after he had the responsibility of Onigiri Miya on his shoulders. 

But you knew your guess was correct when you pressed your forehead against his as he slumped over you. He was burning up, his face and his entire body as it laid on yours despite it being difficult for you to hold up his much larger frame. However, the person who was basically a human furnace in your hold was still struggling to stand back up straight as you held him there.

“Osamu,” you said, patting his back and trying to urge him to lay down, “go back to bed.”

“No...” he replied stubbornly, but ended up sounding more like a child who was trying to sound serious with his voice coming out weak and shaky.

“You are sick, I won’t let you get up like this,” you peeled off his hand that was latched onto your forearm, the lines between your brows deepening when you felt how he was sweating from his palms.

“But-”

“Miya Osamu.”

He let out a defeated whine, succumbing to the way you coerced him back onto the mattress as the dizziness weighing on his head finally took over. He was still mumbling about all the things he needed to do today under his breath as you tucked him back under the covers, reminding you to contact the staff that was supposed to come to work this morning as you reassured him again and again that you would get it figured out for him.

He spoke slower and slower as you fixed the pillow underneath his head, words melting into near incoherent slurs before he finally closed his eyes back up.

You did not move away until you saw the heavy breathing returned to a steady pace, even though the loud inhales indicated that he was still having a hard time. Sighing as you relaxed your hands that had curled into fists at your side when you hadn’t paid attention, you pressed your finger to your own forehead where it felt like his heat was still lingering on your own skin.

-

You had gone back to work as usual after spending too long pacing around that morning to call for a day off completely, but managed to file in to leave early. Just the thought of a sick Osamu being alone at home had you shifting in your seat. What if he woke up while you were gone and tried to force his wobbly body to handle chores? You had never packed up your things as quickly as you did when the clock finally strike at the hour when you were allowed to leave, dashing out near immediately the moment you finished off the work at hand. 

Osamu was still deep in sleep by the time you got back, much to your relieve. He seemed slightly more at ease now than he was when you left the house, the cooling pad on his forehead sufficiently absorbing the heat emitting from him. It had been a long while since you last saw him so vulnerable, his lashes fluttering at his eyelids jumped at the way your finger brushed against his cheek when you reached to check his temperature.

“Mm...you’re home,” he fought his eyes open when he sensed you moving away under his half-woken state. 

“Don’t go...”

You forgot how needy he always was when he was feeling unwell and how weak you were against his glassy eyes. Patting the back of his head, you tried to appease him as you cooed, “Let’s try to get you something to eat first, I’ll be back soon. Ok?”

He did not seem to be happy about the suggestion of you leaving his side, but still, let you go with a whine. Grey eyes stared at you from behind hooded lids, his cheeks squishing against the pillow as his hands curled and released at the corner of the futon he was grabbing onto. “Ok...”

When was the last time you ever stood in front of a stove? You were not completely useless in the kitchen by all means, but the long period of having all your meals being taken cared of by someone who not only knew what they were doing but found so much love in doing so had reduced you to nothing but a clueless cloud as you stared at contents in the fridge. There sat the jelly you had got for Osamu, which apparently was recommended to feed to patients for increasing appetite and reducing heat according to the articles you looked up on your way home. But other than that, it was a territory of unknown to you.

There were several Tupperwares labeled with different dates in Osamu’s scribbles. He had always been smart when it comes to domesticities, making sure that the best before was always marked clearly on the package of everything he bought. The drinks and soda cans were always refilled, which you had clearly taken for granted because the suddenly empty space stood out to you more than ever before. There were a few plates stacked up at the corner with sticky notes on the side and you felt a hollowness in your chest when you saw what it said.

“Monday’s bento.”

Oh baby boy...

You clasped your hand together as you gathered your thoughts, not giving yourself the room to stand around doing nothing. There’s a patient waiting for you in bed, and you couldn’t just let him suffer through a fever with an empty stomach.

You rolled your sleeves up, bracing the winter cold that graced against your arm, before searching in your sea of memories of all the times someone had taken care of you when you were sick.

The sweet smell of rice gathered in the steam, warming up your body with each inhale. You lifted up the lid tentatively and was pleased to see the all the grains had already melted together into a soft, fluffy cloud. The strings of egg added a tint of flavour to the otherwise bland congee. It was all starting to come together, and you let out a relieved sigh to know that at least he wouldn’t have to starve. The mess around the counter was evidence that you had to stumble through each step, the ingredients that you choppily diced up still lingering around the cutting board. 

You thought of the way Osamu always out so much effort into making sure you were well fed each day and all the thoughts he had put into each bento. 

The sheer cheesiness and absolute embarrassment that followed what popped up in your head made you shiver. Since when were you the type of person who could even think of things like that? But still, your hand moved to pick up the knife that was put to the side with the other reaching for the scraps that were left from the cooking.

He would probably like this a lot.

You hope he would like this a lot.

-

“Samu? Are you awake?”

The creek of the door was met with a soft whimper. The man on the bed swung his arm over to the side so his still heavy body could move with him, a small smile crawling onto his face when he saw you.

“Took you long enough...”

“Sorry, it’s been a while since I cooked anything,” the wooden tray landed on the bedside table with a clank. He tried to get up on his own, but the shaking of his arm had you rushing to help him at once. He looked sheepish as you lifted the cover of the pot, mixing everything together with the spoon before handing it to him.

Osamu was always touched by food, but maybe the lack of taste in his mouth all day had done a number on him when he had to choke back the urge to sob when he smelt the warm steam filling his nostrils the moment you opened the lid. 

“Is that a heart?” he was grinning ear to ear as he pushed around the congee with the spoon.

“Yes,” you huffed with a defeated laugh under his knowing stare, “now hurry up or it’ll get cold.”

He looked up at you, and your heart nearly skipped a beat when he pouted. 

“Feed me,” he demanded, his voice sweet and like a kid as he held out the spoon in his hand.

You knew he would be all over it. You let out a soft tsk as you took the spoon back in your hand, sitting on the small space next to him on the bed as you scooped up some of the rice.

Osamu felt a warm swell in his chest at the way you carefully blew against the congee, one hand cupping beneath the spoon before bringing it to his lips. His head was still pounding, and the dryness felt nearly painful as he had his first bite of real food of the day but he loved, simply loved the way your eyes never left him for even just a second.

The congee warmed him from within, and he indulged in the leisure of laying against your shoulder while you babied him. 

He latched on you when you were about to move away, rubbing his face against you as he whined. “It’s cold without you.”

“I need to get this in the sink or else it’ll be hard to clean up-”

“Nooooooo,” he held out for the last note of his voice, burying his face at the crook of your neck, “do it later...”

“You’re such a child when you are sick,” you joked, pushing away his bangs and caressed his jaw with your thumb.

“Yeah?” he muttered, leaning into your touch, “Good thing I have you here to take care of me then...”

You sighed, knowing that there was no way you could win when he was acting all clingy and cute like this. He let out a satisfied hum when you climbed under the covers, wrapping your arm around his waist while tugging his head against your shoulder.

“Get well soon, you big baby.”

[rouiyan]

𝘕𝘐𝘎𝘏𝘛𝘚 𝘓𝘐𝘒𝘌 𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘚𝘌 [ 𝘭.𝘥𝘩 ]

⧏ part of the before i met you collective ⧐

synopsis: you hate donghyuck’s stupid, stupid temper and also his stupid, stupidly sincere apologies. and just when you think you can seamlessly quote every word to come from his jabbering mouth, he does the unthinkable.

✧ idol!lee donghyuck x (fem.) college student!reader ✧ established relationship au

✧ genres : fluff, angst, and then some Fluff ✧ word count : 3.4k ✧ disclaimers : minor swearing, like a three-worded phrase referring to sex

✧ author’s note — i was really invested in this at first and wrote the first three thousand words in one day but i lost motivation and finally finished it a week after haha.

“baby, i think we should talk about something.” 

donghyuck’s eyes peered quizzically down at yours, a slim anxiety shadowing his irises. “it’s nothing to worry about but…” he huffed a silent breath, a small smile easing across his features before gesturing for you to continue. his hair is mussed and his glasses are perched upon the bridge of his nose, a sight that you will always welcome with open arms. “well, after you come back from your tour, it’s gonna be our-“

“-second anniversary, i know, princess.” his face now donned a smirk akin to that of an angel’s. “yeah,” you breathed, taken aback a bit by your boyfriend’s straightforwardness, “it's just… i’m a bit tight on money right now so i was thinking we could do, like, thoughtful gifts? instead of something more expensive.” donghyuck’s eyes dimmed the slightest at the reason behind your suggestion, “if you’re ever tight on money, i could always lend you some, you know?” 

shuffling around the bed and positioning yourself so that you were on eye level with the boy, a chuckle seeped within your sigh, “that's ridiculous, hyuck. why would i borrow money from you to buy you a gift? then you’d just be buying yourself a gift.” laughing dryly along with him you settled down to bring the conversation back to the point, “i was thinking that when you come back, i could cook you up a big dinner of all your favorites. it’s been awhile since i last cooked for you. and i guess that could be my gift.”

“of course, baby, i’d love that,” his eyes bore into yours with so much love that it felt almost undeserving to be the one receiving it. he's always been one to give and forget to receive. shaking the thought that donghyuck’s love could ever be burdensome, you held his hands in yours, relief written in your expression. “and i’ll,” he continued with a playful lilt to his voice, “just have to find something that’s equally as heartfelt as a home- cooked meal.”

it’s nights like these that set your heart to peace, when he lets you be the big spoon for once and when his soft snores reverberate throughout your body, making you think of him and only him. your hand cards through his locks rhythmically and you wish for nothing to ever change the way he looks at you or the way your heart pulls for him.

your heartbeat is erratic, thumping wildly in your ears, as donghyuck’s yells resound through the phone. he’s not mad at you, per se, be he’s definitely mad at you. tears prickle at the edge of your eyes as you think, for the fifth time in the past hour, just how unfair he was being.

“y/n, look, i’m not asking much of you. just don’t bother me while i’m working.” you huff breaths because frankly, you find his attitude increasingly hard to deal with. he’s been on tour with nct 127 for almost three weeks now, and he’s decided, for whatever reason, that now was the perfect time to blow out his stresses upon you. it’s getting harder to suppress the oncoming hyperventilation so while he rambles about how inconvenient and how inconsiderate you’re proving to be, you hang up.

sitting down, you almost can feel your heart shrivel up like a dried fruit and you long to sink further into the sheets. the vibrations of your phone, lighting up again and again with his contact name, hyuck <3, make you feel even worse than it should. you pick up the call after his seventh try and without even letting him realize, you begin your pent up rant.

“lee donghyuck, for the love of god, can you put aside your inflated ego for just one second and realize how much of a dick you’re being? i checked the fucking time before i called you, you’re not working, you’re at your hotel, it’s eleven at night over there. i’m fed up with you taking out all your shit on me. i’m your girlfriend, not your punching bag, jesus christ.”

you stop to catch your breath when you realize the tears have unleashed themselves and are now running freely along the crevices of your face. you feel a sob bubbling up your throat and you willingly let it out, your phone dropping within the abyss of the bed. it’s sad, the way your body ricochets with ripples of wilting emotion, echoing the feelings that have waited too long and have expanded twofold in even the tiniest moments of weakness. clutching your chest, you crawl to where your phone landed, motions lacking energy and will. 

before you can reach your phone, a soft, “y/n,” fills the empty void of the room. it’s hard to hear but the second it fills your ears, your heart constricts in a way it never has before whenever donghyuck calls your name. your eyes are blurry and your head is suddenly so heavy, you doubt you’ll ever be able to lift it again. it takes you three tries before you successfully thumb the button to hang up.

it’s nights like these that set your heart on fire; the type of fire that burns and kills. the empty room, the empty apartment, engulfs your body as if it were a mere speck of dust, invisible to the naked eye. you feel tiny in ways that are so not cute and it’s that very thought that pierces your mind to the edge of exhaustion, your emotional escapade coming to an end.

with everything in consideration, donghyuck thinks he’s prepared, or as prepared as he could be, standing outside your apartment, waiting for you to open up. his heart is loud in his chest, almost begging for his attention, but he ignores the sensation and takes a deep breath. 

among all his hopes and dreams, he wishes the most to see you again. it’s not like he didn’t think he deserved it but the silent treatment had really taken a toll on him. and with the constant pang in his chest alerting him of his failures, he’s reminded that you’re feeling the same, if not double at the cost of his actions. so if you decide not to open up, despite him knowing deep down that you will, he understands.

donghyuck’s feet tap nervously on the ground, itching for him to do something, anything. to knock until his knuckles bleed or ram into the door with full force, he’s sure that would relieve the urges. his body aches to be in the same room as yours, the weeks apart tearing him inside out. he unlocks his phone, to pass the seconds or just to look at the last text he’d sent you three hours ago, still read and unreplied. i just landed. i’ll be at your place by 7.

he sighs, a deep and earthy tone to his voice, covered in the frustration and stresses that have been tensing his shoulders for the past two weeks, waiting for this day to come. he pockets his phone and rings the buzzer one more time before his hand drops limply down his side, now drumming a rapid beat upon his jeans. 

as the door before him swings open, he feels anything but ready. instead, he feels shy and embarrassed to show up at your door front. the many words he’d rehearsed over and over again on his flight back had escaped his memory altogether. you’re donned in a large tee that he recognizes as his, so large on you that he can’t see what shorts you’re wearing underneath or if you’re even wearing shorts. your hair is messy and unkempt, framing your face in a way that only he would think is cute. donghyuck suddenly feels overdressed in his jeans and an environmental awareness graphic tee that you had gifted him a while back, a black blazer carefully thrown over but then again, he only came here looking like this because it’s your second anniversary. he bites down on his lips as he realizes that instead, you may be feeling underdressed. 

the eye contact he holds is broken as you step aside to let him in and he notes the way your arms are folded over your middle indicating one of two things. either you really do feel underdressed or it’s a sign that you don’t want him touching you. he decides to play it safe and steps through the threshold of your apartment, walking right past you. he does, though, catch the brief look of expectancy followed by disappointment that creases your brows and he takes a subconscious step back as he tries to decide if he should go for the usual hug and kiss anyways. he immediately backtracks when he sees that the timing has already passed for a greeting, inwardly wincing at his awkwardness.

slipping his shoes off as you lock the door, donghyuck enters the living room beside you, eyes scanning the room that’s lit by only a singular standing lamp and the pinky orange hues of the sunset falling through your sheer curtains. he can smell food in the air, something on the stove or in the oven, and he takes a swerve to the kitchen, the table set aside brimming with an abundance side dishes and all his favorite meats, grilled to perfection. he also sees even more of the same food on the counter, packaged in stacks of tupperware, with the labels ‘127’ and ‘dream’ written on pastel post-its. of course, he thinks, even when your mad, you’re still as considerate as humanly possible.

he’s shifting on his weight, unsure of what to say or do to show you that he feels entirely undeserving of your kindness despite being undoubtedly upset at him. donghyuck wants to facepalm himself because you beat him to it.

“have you eaten yet?” your voice is light but laced with a solemness he wishes he could wash away. he watches as you clench and unclench the material of his shirt, an emotionally grounding mechanism of yours he’s noticed every time you're on the verge of breaking down. he clears his voice before answering, “no, let’s eat.”

he turns to sit at the table when he realizes that there’s only one serving of food on the table. one bowl of rice, one cup of water, cold without ice like he likes it, and enough side dishes for just one person. he knows you’re not petty enough to make him watch you eat all his favorite foods but he’s even more saddened by the fact that it’ll be the other way around. you don’t want to eat with him.

“are you not eating?” he questions, though he knows the answer. donghyuck is sure that all his past ancestors are frowning upon him. it’s only right that his eyes dim when you give him a shake of your head, taking steps to sit at the seat across from where he was to be seated. following suit, he sits down whilst asking, “why not?” 

“i’m not hungry, that’s all.”

“oh, i see.”

a thick silence follows and it feels almost suffocating for donghyuck to sit in. he wishes more than anything now to have the courage to tell you what he needs to say. the words are lodged too far down in his throat so he settles for a, “how have you been?” between consuming mouthfuls of rice and glancing up at you as he chews. he feels he can quite literally see the cogs turning in your head to figure out what to say and he thinks he also knows the answer you will conclude to. an, “i’ve been better,” confirms his thoughts, his years upon years experiences proving to be top notch. “how about you?” he hesitates before speaking and starts with a, “me too, been better,” but you knew that look like the back of your hand. he had something else to say.

the frown that sits upon your lips irritates donghyuck, having been his job to chase it away, so he hurries to finish his food, almost choking and deepening your frown. he inhales every last grain of rice, piece of meat, speck of crumb, and ounce of water before setting down the chopsticks, tummy full and mindset prepped, for real this time.

truth be told, it’s not everyday that you and him get into fights but he’s always the one that’s petty enough to start them, hence his adequate knowledge on what to say after, how to say it, when to say it. “y/n,” he starts and makes sure to give a pause to make sure your attention is all his; more or less you feel as if you already know his next words, slightly annoyed that your second anniversary will go down in history as just another of his many apologies. worst part was, you could never bring yourself to doubt his true intentions, no matter what he did.

“i’m not going to lie, i was annoyed at you for calling. i was frustrated and stressed from the workload but among all that i was also selfish, and inconsiderate. and yes, i was the biggest dick to the bestest girlfriend.” if anyone was to give the most sincere of apologies, you knew it was to be donghyuck. he had so many love languages, and people would usually interpret this as his touchy nature, but you knew more than anyone that his words seemed too poetic and too perfectly curated to be deemed inferior to his touches. 

donghyuck, himself, likes to think that all he knows about love is from you. he doesn’t just like to think but he knows, amongst the millions of other things he knows regarding his girlfriend, that you will be the only girl ever to make him want so much. you drag out his desires by a tenfold and equally bring out the best in him. it’s a fact he keeps to himself but ever so persistently, that you are the one that keeps him going, day and night. he’s never been much of a romanticist, but trust when he says that his love for you was slow and gradual in the most beautiful way. like honey and molasses dripping at a crawling pace only to sweeten up the surfaces it graces. his love for you ages like fine wine and savors like a setting sun against a backdrop of stars. you will never need a man more than you need donghyuck, and donghyuck, you.

with all above considered, heaving and placed in the most carefully constructed sentences, he almost bulldozes through the next speech he’s prepared, checking off the bullet points in his head as he’d goes. he’s a stuttering and leg-bouncing mess from the sheer nervousness of how to get this to play out exactly as it does in his head.

biting his lips, he dives in, “y/n, i know you. i really do. i’ve known you for almost a decade and i’ve spent most of that decade trying my best to get to know you, chasing after you until you saw me the way i saw you. the last two years have shown me that all the time i spent being hung up on you was beyond worth it. jeno told me i needed to move on because you’d never see me as more than a friend, renjun gave me a list of girls he thought would match with my personality better, and my managers honestly hated you. but for some reason, i never gave a fuck. and i think it’s because that i’ve always known that we were going to end up together somehow. but actually dating you, i think i’ve known, since exactly two years ago from today, that you were the one.”

your breath hitches, oh how wrong you were thinking you knew exactly what he was to say. you feel lightheaded and spontaneous at the same time, like a sickness birthed from sheer joy. it’s as if you could feel the blood coursing through your veins, suddenly hyper-aware of your surroundings, of him. your suspicions are there and your eyes start to widen in panic and doubt in place of your immediate happiness. donghyuck senses this and clears his throat to finish his long winded confession.

“we’re still young, baby, we have no need to rush into this. but i was thinking of what to give you for a two year anniversary that’s meaningful and conveys exactly how much i love you. the fight made it really clear for me though,” he tucks his hand into the inner pocket of his blazer and withdraws a simple tiffany blue box. “i was in new york, for just a night, but i was passing by the store and it just clicked. this-“ he opens the cased ring box to reveal a simple silver band, with the letters of his initials engraved along the inside, ”is a promise ring, from me to you. i promise you, that i will be the one to marry you. trust in me when i say that there is nothing else that comes to mind when i think of my future. my future is you, y/n, nothing can change that. not a petty fight, or my job and your education, or the media even. it’s me and you, baby, till the end of time.”

his eyes are shining with tears that mimic the ones spilling from your own tear ducts. a small laugh ruptured at the back of your throat at how he ended his little speech with such a cheesy line but you barely have time to recollect yourself before donghyuck takes the box in his hands and removes the ring from its hold. he slips your right hand into his with ease and tugs it closer to slide the ring onto your ring finger because, “we’re not actually engaged, more like pre-engaged.” his heart has such a close hold on yours as he reaches into his suit pocket again, your eyes widening at the prospect of yet another surprise. 

it’s another ring, the same fashion as the one on your finger except with your initials carved into the inner ring. at this point you can’t understand why donghyuck has such a nervous look on his face, you’d say yes to almost anything he asks of you in this state. “i would also like to know… if you would make the same promise to me.” you don’t even bother saying yes, just taking the ring into your own fingers and slotting it onto the ring finger on his right hand. his face flushes almost instantly at your bold actions, even if he was the one that practically proposed to you today.

it takes everything in you to suppress the smile that’s already washing over your face, worried you’ll ruin the moment by looking too gleeful. the man across from you looks about the same except he’s failing miserably at keeping the joy from lining his features, maybe on purpose. donghyuck may or may not be completely head over heels for you, now over the moon that the two of you were back on good terms. his chest is light and his head is a little sluggish, only thinking of you and you-related things, like he’s been drugged by … by your love. his head is reeling at the tight smile that is a dead giveaway to what you’re not expressing and the way your eyes glance down every two second at the ring on your finger. he takes a glance at it as well and his heart swells infinitely because he knows that there is one on his own finger as well. the internal dialogue that you’re having with him is clear as day. your eyes are sparkling as if to say ‘i love you,’ your toes are tapping lightly on his sock-clad ones as if to say ‘i love you,’ and he’s noticed that your position hasn’t changed in the last ten minutes despite your usually fidgety disposition; that itself, donghyuck reads as a giant ‘i fucking love you.’

needless to say, it’s nights like these that sear your heart with ecstasy every living, breathing moment. donghyuck doesn’t voice any opposition when you pull him to bed right after, not even bothering to place the dishes in the sink. naked in bed, his love for you is the closest thing he knows to home and your love for him, the same. you suppose that you may have been viewing the world through rose-tinted glasses that night, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t looking forward to the day the love of your life gets down on one knee to fulfill his promise, the very same day you were to say yes to fulfill yours. 

copyright © 2020 rouiyan all rights reserved.

[notbecauseofvictories]

Hi Sarah! You seem to be quite enthusiastic and well informed about cooking, and I was wondering if you had any tips for students at uni? I feel it's so difficult to keep a healthy diet and cook for yourself on a low budget. Do you have any good recipes you could share? Or ideas? Thank you so much if you are able to answer, no worries if you don't feel like it.

This is...kind of a difficult question to answer, given that I approach cooking as a decadent, pleasurable thing, rather than something functional. (Some people shop online when they want to splurge. I make 48 coconut macaroons hand-shaped and dipped in chocolate, and a parmesan-garlic cream sauce to drizzle over my steamed brussel sprouts.) If all I need to do is consume calories, I’m much more likely to cut corners---seriously, store-bought sauces, simmer pastes, and salad dressings are a godsend---or buy something convenient. I could probably survive on deli sandwiches, if I really put my mind to it.

However, I do want to suggest a couple tips I think are helpful:

1) Know what you like, know what you need.

What it says, because food is always a balancing act between getting the kinds of nutrients your physical, calorie-consuming body needs and the sugar/salt/fats you want. Personally, I will eat literally anything if there’s bread or cheese or both involved. (This is not a joke---I have eaten a lot of creamed spinach and deli sandwiches.) However, having discussed my diet with healthcare professionals, I know what I need is proteins and vitamin d. So when I’m preparing my schedule for the week, I force myself to think about both: what will I eat, what should I eat, what can I make that satisfies the difference? And then, what’s my timing? (i.e., do I need to stay late at work? do I have other plans that night?) 

Like everything with my life, I review it vaguely sometime Monday and plan out my week. Though I do know enough about myself to build in some flexibility, because sometimes a bitch is walking home desperate for a burger, and shouldn’t have to apologize.

2) Google with abandon.

I do not have any private store of family recipes. My mother was a functional cook, and my grandmothers were either of the “hors d'oeuvres and martinis” generation or the “jello(tm) with colorful sprinkles is an actual dessert” generation. (The difference there, by the way, is class. But that’s a whole other tumblr post.) The point is that at the end of the day, there’s no secret treasure trove of recipes for me to delve into.

Which means I google everything. Every recipe I post here, every time I have spare ingredients I’m looking to get rid of. “Unsweetened chocolate recipes” is one of my latest searches, because I accidentally bought 4 oz of it instead of semi-sweet and don’t know what to do. (I’ll probably end up make brownies.) I have also googled in the last few months:

Reduced milk recipe

Quinoa recipe

Bean recipe

Dark corn syrup recipe

Pie crust recipe 

Apple pie recipe

Scallion pancake recipe

The point is, just because you don’t know what to do shouldn’t keep you from making good food! Personally, I love Epicurious, and always check their suggestions first, but the internet is wide and deep and full of people who will suggest cooking times, oven temperature, and spices you can add to stuff to make it taste good. Don’t be afraid to scroll through 4 different recipes on different domains, even if it’s the same dish; or to add “simple” to you search terms. You have more cookery knowledge at your clumsy fingertips than anyone before us ever has---use it.

3) Store it, freeze it, stick it in a tupperware.

As someone who’s now been cooking for herself for at least 5 years, I am here to tell you that there’s no “cooking for one.” Cooking for one is a lie. What you do is cook for 3-4 people, and then freeze or refrigerate the leftovers. So it’s important to consider how well your various ingredients freeze and how you’ll reheat them when the time comes.

Meat and seafood freeze well when you get them from the grocery store! Unfortunately, if you cook something or marinate it, and leave it to sit in the fridge, it will get very tough or break down entirely. (This is especially true if you use a particularly acidic marinade.) Unless you get them already frozen, fruits and vegetables do not freeze well at all—water expands as it freezes, and your fresh fruit & veg are so watery that the ice completely ruins the cellulose structure and defrosting will make them mushy. If you have leftover cooked vegetables, those should be used in scrambled eggs or eaten with a sauce within the week. Cream-based soups and sauces freeze pretty nicely, you just have to be careful not to leave them long enough to get freezer burn. Freezing bread arrests the yeast and mold processes, so if you’re looking to keep your loaf from turning, stick it in the freezer in an airtight bag.

(I haven’t had a microwave in two years, so most of what I make is the kind of stuff I can reheat on the stove—or eat cold!)

Also, most food isn’t ruined by temperature---you can leave a lot of stuff out on the counter after cooking without fear of bacteria. However, too much exposure to the air will ruin just about any dish: creams curdle, meat toughens, vegetables soften, starches harden. If you’re going to store something at room temperature, stick it in a ziploc bag, plastic wrap, or aluminum foil quickly, and it’ll last longer even without the refrigerator.

4) Occasionally, try something new.

Obviously, as a uni student you should try lots of new things---but as a uni student cooking for yourself, I encourage you to occasionally experiment. Make bread, if you’ve never made bread before; try a desert if you’ve been focused on single-serving chicken breasts. Once every few months, try cooking or baking something you’ve absolutely never tried. (For hard mode, pick something completely out of the ballpark---for example, a couple months ago I tried to make a meringue and failed miserably. But I think I understand why I failed and that’s made me a better cook in the interim.)

It is, of course, very important that we eat in a way that serves our body and its needs. But at the same time, making food has always struck me as serving more than just need---we make food to show our love and appreciation for others (isn’t feeding an act of service?), to articulate desires we can’t verbalize, to satisfy unreasonable cravings, to demonstrate capability, to prove our worthiness, to offer something that isn’t-sex-but-is, etc. etc. etc. Food is very rarely ever just food. Which means that sometimes, we should sequester ourselves in the kitchen and see if we can make that....thing from the Great British Bakeoff.

As a footnote, I hope my coworkers enjoy haphazardly baked alaska.

[connywrites]

of flesh and blood 25

start - part [24]

-

"What do you mean, you're not working this week? What'd you do to fuck up this time?" His father glared at him below inherited eyebrows, crystal blue eyes darkening as he stared Gavin down.

"It wasn't me," Gavin muttered despite knowing to always speak clearly.

"It was the android, all right? It stirred up trouble and I'm dealing with the backlash. It's fine. I've been doing great and they don't want to lose me." Continuing to glare at Gavin, his father cut a piece of steak to eat; he hadn't commented on the food, and Gavin was grateful, as it meant there wasn’t anything immediately wrong with the cooking.

"Surprised the damn thing didn't take your place," he retorted, and it took all Gavin had not to snap, keeping his posture straight, chin high, and eyes forward even while he ate.

"That's not how it works. They're partners, not replacements." His dad let out a sarcastic 'huh' under his breath, shaking his head as he looked at the plate when he cut another piece of steak.

"You say that now, son, but what's the unemployment rate now? It's a matter of time until you get booted, too." Gavin knew the idea shouldn't scare him as much as it did.

"Not a bad place you have here, Gavin. And it's clean, too." Of course he'd think that, as he hadn't seen the chaos of broken windows and furniture, since Gavin took the first chance to take care of it asap, alongside the fact he hadn't lived in the house long enough to make a mess of it otherwise. He was grateful for the circumstance, even with how stressful it was already.

"Glad there aren't any boys staying with you. Still can't believe I raised a damn faggot," his father murmured before shoveling more food into his mouth. Gavin did all he could not to wince at the painful slur.

"Nope," Gavin said back, rotating his fork in circles on the plate in lack of an appetite.

"If you're not gonna eat, put it away or toss it out," his father sternly reminded him. Gavin sighed, picking up his plate to save the rest in a Tupperware. It was a good meal he'd managed to make well enough to satisfy his father; there was no reason to waste it.

"Don't you sigh at me, boy. Good to see you're finally making something of yourself." Did the RK900 set this up? He wasn't sure, paranoia digging into his head with a shiver climbing up his spine that made him decide he didn't want to think about it.

"Yeah. Took me a while but I did it," he said with more false confidence as he returned to his seat.

"Better than never. I was starting to lose hope." The words didn't hurt as bad as they had in his youth, but there was no getting rid of the particular disappointment in himself that always came with them.

"You've certainly shaped up. Maybe androids aren't so bad after all," he said with satire, sending a flood of flashbacks of the 900 through Gavin's mind all at once. It made sense his dad would be satisfied; he'd tried to get Gavin to act accordingly seemingly all his life, but an android got the job done and then some.

"You're so quiet. And are you shaking?" His face held the same mixture of anger and disappointment that Gavin was used to. He quickly shook his head.

“Come on, you know better than that,” his father scolded him with a sigh of exasperation. Gavin wanted nothing more than to leave the kitchen and go to bed, sleep or not.

“Sorry, sir.” Nostalgia knotted in his guts as he now had all the more reason to hate speaking and acting such a way. All the while his father had yet to blow up at him, so continued to count his blessings.

“I’m surprised at the cooking,” his father commented as he wiped his fingers off with a napkin, before getting up to put the dishes in the sink.

“That thing teach you that, too?” Gavin was hesitant, but he nodded.

“Gonna be a great housewife someday,” his father said both in mocking to Gavin’s sexuality as well as the sexist view of women should cook, clean and take care of the house. It seemed like Gavin was the perfect fit, in his mind.

“Thanks,” was all Gavin had to say, immediately cuing a sideways glare from his father.

“Manners, too? Wow,” he said with awe, lifting his head and glancing at Gavin with surprise.

“Too bad that thing’s scrap metal now. Guess I could’ve learned a thing or two from it,” he said with a sarcastic laugh that seemed to drain all of the life out of Gavin, and he said nothing.

“I’m taking the guest bed. Gotta be up early to head out tomorrow, but it’s good to see you doing well for yourself.” The ‘compliment’ made his head spin, as he wasn’t used to hearing such a thing, let alone from him—but he decided to take it for what it was, content that he didn’t earn any yelling, for the time being.

“’Kay,” he said simply, not knowing how else to respond and downright terrified of ticking off his father.

“Night.”

“Get your job back on track,” he warned, seemingly out of nowhere, “or we’re gonna have a talk.” Gavin tried his best to hide away his fear, but to little avail as he nodded once, never letting his eyes leave his father’s until he turned to walk down the hall.

-

It was strange waking up the next morning without work on his mind. He’d set his alarm so he’d be up to tell his dad goodbye, even if he didn’t entirely want to, sitting up and stretching as the blankets slid off from his form in the process.

Heading to the kitchen, he wanted to make a point of making breakfast, grabbing bacon, sausage and eggs from the fridge that was still surprisingly full, moving to the stove to start cooking.

Once the food was ready, he spotted his father leaving the bathroom freshly showered, donning the appropriate clothing for wherever he was going to that day.

“Who knew you could look sharp,” he quipped once he caught sight of Gavin with slick hair and freshly ironed clothes; Gavin decided to take it as a compliment rather than an insult, as he didn’t know how many more punches his ego could take.

“I want to hear you got another raise by the time you’re back to work, you hear me? You’re lucky you had vacation days saved up or you might not be so lucky.” Gavin felt small and young, like a scolded child all over again, remembering this exact scenario in a different house in a different place in Detroit; but it was always the same tone of voice, the same glare, the same words. He’d had them scripted in his head by now.

“Yes, sir,” he responded as if it were second nature.

“And get your sorry ass some confidence. Good to see you’re behaving, but I didn’t raise you to be spineless. Don’t tell me that thing scared you into it?” Sarcasm weighed down his words, followed by the familiar mocking laughter Gavin hadn’t heard in years. There was no way he could tell him the truth, but he couldn’t think of a convincing lie, either. In a moment of panic, he wondered what the RK900 would want him to say, squaring his shoulders and adjusting his posture while he stalled in thought.

“I don’t have anything to be afraid of. Don’t worry, dad. I’ve got it handled.” There was no need for bitterness or fear when you could remain stoic, he mused.

“I sure as hell hope you do.”

-

The week felt excruciatingly slow, and Gavin almost went searching for another job just to take up the time. Knowing it was a waste, he did his best to fill his days now full of spare time with TV, games, a workout and a long, refreshing bath, but nothing seemed to hold his attention.

For the most part, he was able to gradually push away the intrusive thoughts, but the paranoia never left him. He thought back to the day the android informed him it had crawled in through the window, then spent fifteen minutes checking all the latches in the house and ensuring everything was locked and the blinds and curtains were all closed. After that, he stood in the stairwell, not quite managing the energy to go all the way to his room and deciding to sit down on the stairs, instead.

It hit him all at once, all over again. Every wound, mark and scar ached as if they were fresh, the words of the android’s harsh, scolding tone echoing in his head with a blur of its crude chastising and insults. The muscles felt constricting as they bunched around his own neck, locking the joints in his shoulders, elbows, down to his twitchy fingertips and aching knees. The scarring along his back made it difficult not to hunch over; luckily 900 had kept him attune to his own posture, and suddenly it made sense why the discipline was so intense. It took everything he had not to flinch, occasionally gritting his teeth with tears welling his eyes as the wounds stung deep and heavy.

He would be so disappointed, he considered when he thought over the calendar of cut hours. Days. RK900's stern voice echoed in his mind with a blend of three overlapping statements, swirling together in a hazy echo that made him question whether he was dreaming or not.

I miss you. He never said that.

“I'll miss our romance.” Gavin's stomach turned sour, and he threw up his morning coffee.

-

Crying never relieved anything, it only made everything worse, throwing him into livid flashbacks of similar events that made him feel the same prior. When he was bound by rope to the chair, or freezing in the bath, or the various times when he was knelt over on the bed with his arms behind his back and rear in the air; selfish hands grazing skin the way only a machine could, precise yet cold in their direct, curt movements.

Until the android's touch was tender, which made him less than certain. That man-made, humanoid monstrosity had dug himself into Gavin's mind with the same plastic fingertips that caressed his skin and ripped it apart all the same.

Longing, desire, hatred, shame. Every day from the beginning, when the android approached him with a face mostly like Connor's, a body of a 6'4" body guard and eyes of a snake, something close the the embodiment of sin slithering through the garden of Eden. The android had let Gavin initially believe he was the one in power, slyly pulling him into the vicious cycle of torture and trauma. Now, he was here, reduced to a sniveling ball of whimpering and desperation on the living room floor.

Nothing helped. Everything in his body ached, outside and in as he reminisced their final days together; the gifts, the mysterious box, the awkward, but relieving sex, trying to understand the way everything in his life was directly controlled and seemed as though anything might change in the blink of an eye.

There wasn't much benefit in keeping the medication -- 500mg of Lugritol, an SSRI intended to be taken twice a day -- so he decided pouring the decaf coffee over the pills in the bottle and chucking it in the trash was the best option.

He felt the terror enveloping him again, and there was only one thing he could think of clearly; he needed to get out of this house.

-

“Well, I know you can petition to get rid of ‘em, but what about keepin’ one?” Hank’s voice was light with his usual coercive I want something tone, earning the signature response of a simple glower from Fowler.

“They’re expensive government equipment, Hank. Not personal house toys.”

“Tell that to the nanny and babysitting models, then,” he huffed sarcastically. Jeffrey shook his head.

“If you can prove to Cyberlife it doesn’t need to be scrapped, maybe we can figure out something. For now, get back to work. I’m tired of being bothered over this shit.” Hank signaled an ‘ok’ sign with his hand, pursing his lips with a nod before leaving.

-

“So, what? You have any personal feelings about bein’ torn up and tossed to the recycling bin?” Hank’s words were meant to bite; it’d been a new angle he’d been trying with Connor for some time now. Tipping a stubborn machine towards its own deviancy was a challenge, but it wasn’t one he was willing to lose because Cyberlife wanted to trash a relatively useful android. He never minded the finer details of android politics, but he felt like there was more potential in the RK800 than being replaced for a better model; they had that idea when the RK900 came around, before deciding the team would benefit from both models, and so was proven to be the truth. Gavin’s underlying predicament only complicated matters, and he wasn’t sure how he’d convince Cyberlife to keep the prototype and toss the upgraded model.

“I feel as though I have failed my missions through and through since the beginning,” Connor responded with uncertainty in his voice, eyes drifting around the room as he processed his replicated ‘emotions’ over the matter.

“I used to do wonders for the DPD, but with every shift of personnel, human or android, I am left further back in the line. I am but a piece of merchandise to them, so I will be treated as such.” Hank knit his brows and shook his head.

“Yeah, yeah, I know all that. I asked how you feel about it, Connor. Do you think it’d be worth sticking around? ‘Cause if not, I mean, I won’t bother…” Connor caught his eyes and held a serious expression with a stern gaze, waiting for Hank to do the same.

“Definitely. I was designed to do this, and this alone. It is the entire purpose of my being. If I continue existing without any priorities, then it’s equally pointless.” Hank narrowed his eyes; he held a personal distaste for when Connor put missions in front of everything else. Over time, he’d gradually been weaning him from the habit, but it’d been a tricky endeavor.

“Screw your design, that’s not gonna matter if you’re ripped to pieces, now is it?” Connor accepted the rebuke for what it was, dipping his head politely in silent acknowledgement that Hank had a point.

“If you don’t give me a good argument, then into the scrapyard ya go. If you don’t care about that, fine, but now’s the time to make that decision, Connor.”

With his vision lowering, Connor was silent, hands folded behind his back as he stood in Hank’s livingroom, still and quiet in thought. Hank watched the LED on his temple rotate and blink, wondering how different it would be to interact with the android if it wasn’t there to signal the three basic responses they were manufactured to represent. It was no wonder ‘deviants’ removed the damn things; he would, too, all things considered.

“It would be easy enough to disconnect from Cyberlife as my tracker would already be deactivated, but with society’s negative view on deviancy, it would be difficult for me to get away with. Even with their permission, the RK900 has left an unfortunately negative impression in my wake. The last thing Cyberlife wants to do is let me go,” he explained, his final statement seeming to resonate personal sorrow. Unsure of what he was experiencing, Connor lifted his head to look Hank straight on with a deep breath that ended in a short sigh.

“Well, no reason they have to. You can come investigate scenes during the off hours ‘til they bring in that new model. Shufflin’ you guys around like playing cards,” he murmured gruffly, shaking his head. He remembered a life without androids, and it was a relatively simple one compared to the tangle the DPD had gotten itself into now.

“I am no competition against whatever the new model will bring.” Hank’s expression fell, but he knew it was the truth.

“Then we gotta figure out a way to prove you’re worth keepin’ around anyway.”

[angrylizardjacket]

avoiding the winter sky

A/N: 1374 words. it’s me, back again with a All The Queen’s Men ‘verse mini fic that makes me feel that Riz Ahmed ‘im sad’ picture. anyways..... im sad.

[And All The Queen’s Men ‘verse Masterpost]

September, 1991.

“Mornin’ ‘Zelle.” Jim opens the door for her, giving her a smile and a hug in greeting, she’s got a stack of paperwork in one hand and tupperware contained full of cookies in the other, and she offered him one.

“Rog and Lilith made them yesterday, they’re good, though the kitchen may never recover.” The cookies are chocolate chip, and he takes one with a quiet laugh and thanks, leading her through the house to where she could hear the sizzle of something cooking, and Freddie humming cheerfully. “He sounds bright.”

“Yeah, he’s very cheery today; always looks forward to seeing you.” There’s a smile in Jim’s words that Gizelle can hear without even seeing his face, and when they enter the kitchen, Freddie’s positively beaming at them.

“I think we should go on vacation.” He says, in lieu of a greeting, sitting at the kitchen table chopping onions, his eyes watering just a little. Giselle laughs lightly, swanning over to him to press a kiss to his cheek and put her papers on the table.

“And what makes you say that?” She asks, and he resumes his work as she put her folder down on the table. It’s tradition, they have lunch together on Thursdays, Giselle brings some of her cases with her to look over, or sometimes they watch a movie or play board games, but usually they just end up talking, about everything and nothing, distracting themselves from how tired Freddie is, and the marks that keep appearing on his skin.

“I want to go somewhere warm, everything’s so dreary around here.” And he wasn’t wrong; even though it was only the start of Autumn, the sky was grey more often than it was blue nowadays. “I want an adventure, I miss our adventures.” Once he was finished with the onions, he passed them off to Jim, who was quietly cooking over by the stove, smiling to himself.

“We could go on a pub crawl; see all the bands London has to offer in one night like we used to.” Giselle offers, something in her chest tightening as Freddie’s expression brightens.

“Oh yes, I love a good chance to dress up in disguise.” His eyes shine with amusement at the idea, reminiscing fondly about their old haunt at the edge of town where they used to head when they wanted to remember their roots.

“I could wear a wig and put on a fake nose!” Giselle grinned, getting up and moving around the kitchen with practiced ease, pouring all three of them a glass of orange juice.

“So could I!” Freddie enthused, his smile only brightening as Jim chuckled.

“I think you should both invest in a bright pink bob, very subtle.” He added, thanking Giselle again as she pulled out three plates, smiling at his husband’s obvious delight at the suggestion.

“Oh, we should tour together again! A reunion tour, a new and beautifully bright wig every night!” And Freddie leaned back in his chair, watching with an endearing smile as two of his favourite people finished plating up lunch. The serenity only lasted a minute before he was overcome with a violent coughing fit, and Giselle was by his side as Jim fetched him a glass of water. “Perhaps a tour isn’t for me right now.” He mused, a small, self-deprecating smile on his face as he accepted the drink and hummed with contentment when Jim kissed the top of his head, before heading back to the kitchen.

“What if I go on tour, and you come along as my main backup dancer who sings when he’s not coughing his lungs up?” Giselle offered, and there was something grateful in Freddie’s gaze that she tried not to dwell on.

“And if I do start coughing my lungs up on stage?” He asks with a raised eyebrow, Giselle waves him off.

“It’s interpretive dance; kids these days love that sort of stuff.” She half laughed, and Freddie chuckled.

“Touring’s such hard work though, darling, I don’t want to be dragging dear Jim halfway across America.” He mused, gaze sliding to fix the man in question with a fond smile, which, when he looked up from pushing eggs onto the final plate, Jim returned in kind.

“You think you’ll be dragging me along? Dear, I’ll be right there beside you, whether you like it or not.” He informed them, matter-of-factly, bringing two plates over to the table, before getting the third, all three plates stacked with neatly arranged eggs, bacon, sausages, and cooked onions, along with a slice of toast.

“Well lucky for you, I love it.” Freddie grinned at him, tucking into brunch with Giselle and Jim on either side of him doing the same. “But it is work, touring, I don’t think I have it in me, can’t we just go somewhere nice and warm? I’d love to lie on the beach somewhere.” He mused, and Giselle grinned.

“And which beach would you prefer?” She asked, as if she were already making plans, taking a large bite of her egg on toast.

“Oh, you two pick, I could never decide, I’ve seen too many beautiful beaches to have a favourite.” Freddie grinned, and they sank into silence, all contemplative.

“I haven’t seen nearly as many beaches as you two have.” Jim said, quietly, though he didn’t seem unhappy about it, just thoughtful. Without hesitation, he reaches out, taking Jim’s hand across the table.

“Then we don’t have to pick, we’ll see them all.” Freddie announced firmly, giving Jim’s hand a squeeze.

“All of them?” Giselle asks, eyebrows raised, and Freddie turns back to her with a bright and toothy smile.

“All of best, all over the world; we’ll start with Australia, right after Christmas I’ll fly us there, a holiday present! We can bask in the sun while it’s snowing here in dreary England, how does that sound?” He’s lost in his own world, eyes glazed over as he sits on the edge of his seat, food all but forgotten in front of him; he can see the scene before him, can practically feel the sun on his skin.

“Sounds lovely, Freds.” Giselle said, quiet and kind. “I think we could all use a holiday from this city.” She agreed. “We could visit some friends, oh,” eyes lighting up, Giselle reached out to take Freddie’s other hand, “I know it’s not a beach, but Jim has to see Venice, we could visit in the middle months where no-where’s really right for beaches, we could visit Elton’s little place up there.”

“That does sound pretty nice.” Jim agreed. “I mean, a world tour without the actual tour bit? I think I could handle that; what do you think, Freddie?” And finally, hearing Jim’s voice, Freddie feels his fantasy slipping away, and all he can do is smile.

“Sounds perfectly wonderful, exactly what we need.” And there’s almost a dreamlike quality to his voice, which vanishes once he spots his food going cold before him. “We should eat up, I wouldn’t want to let your cooking go to waste.” And he smiles at Jim, taking back his hands from his companions to keep eating, but Giselle just smiles softly at him.

“I’d follow you to the ends of the Earth if you asked me to.” She tells him, surprisingly serious, and when Freddie looks at her, there’s something a little sad in his eyes as he gives her a fond smile.

“I know, Gizelle.” 

Neither one can bring themselves to say it, but they never get past the planning stages. Their time together over the following months is spent poring over travel magazines, Giselle fills a binder with tourist traps they’re determined to see, and picturesque sunset shots they’re determined to recapture, and she pretends it doesn’t hurt her heart when Freddie’s expression fall and he has to outright skip all the pages with actual booking information.

They plan and they fantasize about cocktails at sunset, and when Freddie’s gone, Gizelle puts the folder in the back of her closet, and can’t bring herself to open it again.

[ribbonshades]

January 26th, 2019

One lovely winter morning, the rising sunlight streamed through the tall windows of Jean Duvert’s penthouse apartment, warming his sleeping face with what little heat it offered. He had kicked off his blankets in his sleep again, resulting in him laying amongst them in a plaid pair of pajama pants and a long sleeved grey shirt, as usual, hair tousled behind him. He stirred, curling onto his side and bunching up his blankets to fit in his arms where neither of his boyfriends were currently.

“Mnnnngh,” he groaned, tired limbs stretching, his blue eyes finally fluttering open. The clock read 7:16, meaning he woke up perfectly on time for his day. He spent a few moments rolling gently in bed and lamenting having to leave its warmth and then finally got out of bed, yawning and rubbing his eyes as he plodded towards his bathroom. He could already hear others in the house starting to move about. He pulled off his pajamas and took a nice and hot quick shower, drying off well when he finished.

“What to wear…” he murmured, noting how cold it may be. He opted for a dark mauve dress shirt, dark grey dress pants and a light grey sweater cardigan, a very typical outfit for him. His medium length hair was dry enough to put up in his usual hair style, which he accomplished with a staticky flick of his wrist through his hair. His bangs didn't seem to cooperate, so he tamed them by sliding in a few pins that Jing had given him years before. With his glasses resting on his nose, he gave a soft smile to his reflection and headed down the stairs to start breakfast.

“Good morning,” he called as he came down to the kitchen. Amaryllis was scurrying about, packing up her homework from the night before, while Charles lay on the couch watching a video with Toyo. 

“Hi Dad!” Amaryllis grinned, putting her bag down and going up to him. He smiled and gave her a kiss on the top of her head, ruffling her hair.

“Hello, mon fleur. I brought some salmon home last night, how does that sound for breakfast?” He glanced up to the others, though he knew they would always be fine with whatever he cooked for them.

“Sounds great!” Amaryllis opened the fridge to pull out her packed lunch and tuck it in her bag, taking out three more lunch boxes and putting them in a separate bag. While it was open, Jean pulled out the salmon, some eggs and small stone fruits. He started the rice, turned on the stove, boiled a pot of water and in no time threw together bowls of rice, soft boiled eggs, grilled salmon and sweet grilled apricots.

“Breakfast is ready,” he called to the others, putting the plates of varying contents in front of the counter stools. He always knew their preferences and tried to appeal to them- Charles liked his eggs with a more cooked yolk, Toyo was a fan of fruit and got a few more halves of apricots, and Amaryllis got a bigger piece of salmon simply because she's a growing girl. The four of them ate in a peaceful silence, content at what the day would bring for them all.

“We’re going to leave in a few more minutes. Get ready, okay?” Jean said once he finished his breakfast. Amaryllis nodded earnestly and gulped down the rest of her milk, letting Charles and Toyo take the empty dishes to wash. Jean grabbed his car keys and a folder of documents, with the intention of heading to the God’s Pad to do some work after dropping the kids off. He returned to the door where Amaryllis sat with her backpack, ready for the day.

“Alright, let’s go. See you two later,” Jean called to Charles and Toyo. He and Amaryllis headed over to the elevator and took it all the way down to the parking garage– in these moments where they had normalcy in their lives, they really took any chance the had– and Amaryllis climbed into the back of the car, buckling herself in. Jean pulled out of the garage and drove through the streets of Shibuya towards Pork City, where Nori, Taiki and Kogasa waited.

“G’morning, Dad!” Taiki chirped when Jean pulled over. “I got the tupperware from yesterday, all clean!” Taiki opened the front door to sit in the front seat– despite Kogasa being the oldest and tallest, Taiki liked sitting next to Jean as he drove. Nori shuffled into the middle seat and Kogasa slid into the last vacant seat, all of their backpacks resting at their feet.

“Let’s goooo!” Taiki grinned as Jean shifted gears and took off towards their school. On the ride there, Amaryllis shyly distributed the lunch boxes between the Hiraoka brothers, making sure that the biggest one went to Kogasa.

“Have a good day at school,” Jean said, waving to them all as they got out of the car. He left his car parked in the school parking lot, waited for there to be nobody around, and phased back to the God’s Pad with his folder in hand. This place felt vividly nostalgic in the worst ways, sometimes– but at least he had less grievances about it now. He walked over to the piano in the room, his finger tracing a path through the dust.

“Been a while, huh?” he murmured, it not being clear what he was referring to. He gave the dusty black surface of the piano a lingering look, wondering if he should dust it. Regardless, he smiled and went to his desk, greeting any of the Officers working busily around the office. He had a Reaper to check on today, to make sure their rehabilitation was going okay, but after that his day seemed pretty free. He hadn’t had work at the restaurant, either. Maybe he would swing by Nora’s place to say hi. He settled in at his desk to check what was new, when his phone began to ring.

“Oi!” called the voice on the other line as soon as he picked up. “I’m comin’ over tonight, right?!”

“Sorry, who is this?” Jean replied playfully, a hint of a smirk on his face.

“Hey! You know who this is! Ya got me on caller ID or some shit, right!” the voice audibly puffed indignantly, making Jean laugh.

“Yes, yes, Chris. I’m actually going to be visiting Taboo later on, if you’d like to tag along to that, too,” he said, a fondness clear in his voice.

“Hah… maybe not today! I got some homework to do ‘nd shit. Plus, I don’t need more sweets. But you bet I’ll be at your place at like, 7 o’clock!” Chris declared.

“You know you can always be sweeter. Alright, alright. See you later,” Jean said, smiling, hanging up before Chris could protest. He put his phone down, face up in case anyone else called him, and got to work. Fortunately, the check in didn’t require much– Officers had already reported on the Reaper, so he just had to flick through paperwork for an hour before he was on his way to Taboo Sweets. He pulled the door open, the door chimes tinkling happily to indicate his arrival. He immediately was pelted with something soft– a pillow? The offending object landed in his hands and he blinked in confusion.

“Oh, haven’t seen your face around here lately,” Nora said sarcastically, her arm still raised after her pillow toss, raising an eyebrow from her perch at the counter. Jean chuckled and shrugged his shoulders, guilty of her accusation. He entered the shop, putting the pillow back on a nearby couch. There were a few RGers sitting around the cafe, sipping away at their drinks or soups, but otherwise oblivious to his presence there.

“Hey, I’ve been busy. It’s been on my list, I swear,” he defended himself, though he always felt light inside whenever Nora expressed anything like that to him– it just meant that she missed him, was all.

“Want a drink?” Nora offered, bouncing to her feet on the floor.

“Ahh, hm. I could do with just a green tea, really.” Nora hopped over to behind the counter to fix her friend a drink. She pulled out a slice of a cake of some sort and served them both to Jean with a grin.

“Aw, thanks. This new?” Jean asked, picking up the fork to spear a piece of cake off.

“Yeah! It’s a peach shortcake. Just trying some new things,” Nora said, leaning her elbows on the counter as Jean ate. They spent a while chatting and catching up, complete with Meira bouncing about and teasingly asking where Charles was. Of course, Jean could sense a certain Reaper’s presence from the shadow underneath a chair shrink at the mention of his name. It was almost time to pick up the kids by the time he left, so he phased back to his car at the school and waited while checking his phone.

“Utaite Producer Yoshinda to join XYZ Tour!” said a headline on his Twitter feed. Damn, Haruki is going on tour? He quickly texted him a “congratulations on the tour!” and smiled when Haruki actually replied with a “thanks” and a cheerful kaomoji.

“Dad!” cried Taiki in excitement, as if he hadn’t seen him just that morning. Taiki and Nori clambered into the car, Taiki once again in the passenger seat. He knew that Kogasa had kendo that day, meaning that Amaryllis would be watching him, so they would be able to get home just fine on their own. Jean still felt slightly complicated at his pseudo-son dating his actual daughter, but… that is life. He drove back to his apartment, going up the elevator with the two younger Hiraokas, wondering what sort of after school snack he should make for them.

He settled on just giving them fruit for now, since he’d have to make the three brothers dinner that day, with Mama Hiraoka doing overtime. Taiki spent the next while telling Jean all of the great things he got up to that day in between chomps of fruit, Nori listening intently with wide eyes.

“What’s for dinner, Dad?” Taiki asked finally.

“I was thinking just some roasted veggies and chicken, maybe some mashed potatoes too,” Jean answered, thinking to himself. It wasn’t long until it was time to start cooking dinner in the end, which he started once he got Taiki and Nori to start working on their homework. Chris showed up at some point, too, though once he saw that Jean was still cooking he started to try and escape to avoid having to help with dinner. Jean firmly gave Chris a knife and a bunch of carrots before he could leave, and the Reaper huffed in resignation and started to chop. Kogasa and Amaryllis came home just before dinner was served, a big family dinner with 9 people all talking and chatting happily while eating.

“How was practice, Koga?” Jean asked, glancing up to the eldest Hiraoka son. Kogasa adjusted his glasses in slight embarrassment.

“Went well,” he replied simply. Amaryllis beamed next to him, which told Jean quite enough of how it went.

Mama Hiraoka came and picked up her sons after dinner, with an extra container of a portion of dinner for her too. She thanked Jean gratefully, as tired as she looked, but Jean was just happy to help keep their family going.

Chris, Jean, Toyo and Charles ended up playing Mario Party all the way through the rest of the evening, with Charles winning a very unsurprising victory above the rest. Jean chuckled while Chris complained at the mini games being too hard, teasing him about just needing to try for once. It was late at that point, and everybody went to bed, Jean and Chris retreating upstairs.

“Thanks for coming over,” Jean said, tossing Chris his pajamas. Chris grinned and started to change.

“‘F course, man! Anything for you.” Jean smiled, truly thankful that Chris didn’t mind staying over every now and then to help ward off his nightmares. Of course, sometimes they got up to other activities, but the two of them were both pretty exhausted from the day and they went straight to bed. Chris was out like a light in no time, snoring his stupid head off while clinging to Jean’s arm.

“Today was a good day,” Jean mumbled to himself, smiling. He closed his eyes, hoping the next day would be just as good.

[squishysvt]

Best Friend! Yuta

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N i havent posted in like 5 years and i have no excuse and this wasnt even requested but there is an extreme lack of yuta content and i decided to make it myself smh ANYWAYS i liked writing this a lot and feedback is encouraged!!! lov u lil squishies muah <33 -Admin Madi

ALSO this was inspired by this post from @xuxi-rolls and this post from @youaremychwingum which are both amazingly cute blogs and people so go check them out!

Backstory first! You two met in the 3rd grade when he was deep in his anime phase and you were obsessed with collecting erasers that were shaped like weird things such as lipstick tubes and paintbrushes

Yuta stole the paintbrush one and started using it like a sword like a character from his fav anime and boy when you saw him do that were you were like “im gonna do it. Im gonna kill him”

You literally stomped your lil sketcher clad feet over to his desk and YANKED that shit from his chubby fingers with zero remorse

And he started crying and you felt bad and were like “well fine you can have it i guess”

And he immediately stops his FAKE crying bc hes a snake and sticks his tongue out at you as he snatches the eraser back

And you went into full Attack Mode and you two got into a small fist fight and the teacher had to break it up it was nasty

Anyways after you two went through the next year having some major beef, yuta apologised bc he’s a gentleman and even bought you a new eraser!

It was shaped like a dinosaur and you loved it so much that you instantly forgave him bc you didnt have an eraser in that shape yet!!

And he was beaming after seeing ur face light up like that and proudly pulled a matching dino eraser from his back pocket and was like “we match!! We can be best friends now!”

And you Loved that idea you were like yes okay first order of business: more erasers

Anyways you two just instantly clicked bc ur sense of humor was v v similar and life became so much more enjoyable with having him there to share the experience with you

Throughout ur many years of friendship, Yuta had always wanted nothing more than for your friendship to be comfortable, honest and loving

You’re the one that he rants to, gushes to and confides to so your friendship to him is so precious

And as you grew older and gained more freedom, both of you started to do more things outside of school like go on late night drives, go to the movies, amusements parks and out to eat every other day

And it became natural and routinely that going days without one another felt weird??

And you and yuta have discussed the idea of maybe you two being soul mates, but in a completely platonic way

Like you were two halves meant to come together

And yuta liked to reinforce this idea bc when it comes to being lovers, you shouldn’t be looking for your other half, but rather looking for the person who already makes you feel whole

And so when y’all graduated from high school you immediately got an apartment together!

It’s definitely not very fancy or anything since you both only had part time jobs here and there during the school years and summers, but it’s better than nothing!

And although yuta and you are similar, your styles are where you really begin to differ

While he wants to have pictures of mountains and gardens hanging on the living room walls, you would rather have mirrors shaped like suns and fairy lights behind the couch

And obviously after some friendly banter, you come to an agreement that a painting of pretty outside scenery at night would look great with some fairy lights to compliment it!!

And so your apartment quickly becomes a mesh of your style with his and it’s oddly nice?? Like who would’ve thought that yuta’s knick knacks from japan would look so cute next to your family photos

It’s a two bedroom apartment but you both end up sleeping on the couch in a heap more often than you’d like to admit

You’re both in uni doing ur own things so when its time to come home and relax, you’ll find yourself curled up next to him on the couch with your laptop open and writing a paper while he’s munching on some snacks and watching a game of soccer he missed bc of classes

And you’ll quickly fall asleep bc papers are boring!! And yuta doesnt want to move bc your laying on him and doesnt want to disturb you so he’ll just quietly cheer to himself when his team scores and eventually falls asleep

But sometimes he has no problem lightly shoving you off and going to his own bed bc the couch isnt really that comfortable and hurts his back after awhile, but he brings your duvet out so its more comfortable for you at least

And although you two are pretty much joint at the hip, your bedrooms are private from one another

Like its nice being with yuta, but its also very important that you have time to yourself and so neither of you are intrusive when the other person is in their room with the door shut

If either of you need anything you’ll just shoot each other a text or quietly knock on the door rather than just barging in which is something that both of you really appreciate

And you obviously have other friends besides yuta that you love dearly! And you make sure that you get to see them often and that yuta goes out with his friends too bc its easy to get sick of each other no matter how much you love one another

And this makes for your friendship to be healthy! Which is like, the most important thing bc being your own person is important and having close relationships/friendships is also important! But its easy to get too attached and end up hurting yourself down the road

And yuta is aware of this as well and so it makes things a lot easier bc he knows when you need your space and when to distance himself if he needs it too

But living with yuta is a lot of fun!

He likes to cook sometimes so you’ll always have a full tummy with yuta around!! And if he's not in the mood for slaving over the stove, he’ll just make some instant noodles and call it a day

He really tries to make as many traditional japanese dishes as he can so he can have a slice of his home whenever he’s feeling down, and he just really enjoys sharing that part of his life with you too

Undoubtedly his favorite part is when he gets to hand feed you with a spoon and witness the look on your face as you chew bc it’s really rewarding for him

Sometimes your schedules kind of clash on days so whenever he’s home and you’re in class, he’ll make food for himself and leave you tupperware containers of food in the fridge for you to heat up when you get back bc he knows you’ll just crash and not eat which is really bad

And yuta cares about ur health!!! He’s attentive as heck!!

But you’ll do the same thing for him, and even if you aren't a world renowned chef, you’ll lay cash on the counter for him to call in a pizza or something quick

If you know he’s been craving something then you’ll leave the number for the place next to the money you leave so it makes ordering a bit easier for him!

Also, yuta is very organized! Sometimes he’ll throw his jacket here and there or have some things where they shouldn’t be, but yuta really likes having a clean and tidy apartment!

He hates doing the dishes, but he’ll literally do anything else

He likes to vacuum for some reason you dont know but you’re like okay have at it! One less thing i gotta do! And he’s really happy once he’s done bc BAM you have clean floors

And you’ll just be sarcastic about it but in a loving way and he laps that shit up bc sarcasm!!! His second language <333

You two have a nightly routine that ensues when neither of you are busy the next day so  you’ll watch a movie on netflix you’ve been eyeing together and crash

Sometimes when yuta gets home on these nights you’ll still be in the shower or getting ready for bed, and yuta will come in and sit on the counter and you’ll talk about your day and just chill while shampooing ur hair (which yuta is obsessed with btw..he loves touching and playing with it)

But he’ll just be there,,listening closely and telling you about his own day while drawing squiggly images on the mirror like hearts and stick figures holding hands (its always you and him, but when you ask, he insists its him and winwin)

And you laugh bc boy does ur bff ever have a massive crush on sicheng!!

But yuta is just cute and likes your platonicness with him

Bc he really does love you! People often ask you two if you’re dating and you can see why people would ask that bc you and yuta are super close, but it’s also kind of an odd thought to both of you bc yeah you love each other but,,,not as lovers

And so you’ll laugh it off and talk about it afterwards bc you really cant see each other in that light because you tried dating in high school and it just felt kind of weird

Yuta loves to tease and joke around with you, sometimes be a little (read; lot) sarcastic with his jokes but he really does care about u and thats how he shows his affection!!

He’ll hold ur hand when ur out at the grocery store or shopping together and likes to pat your head and plays with your ears but thats about it for physical affection!

You’re emotionally bonded more so than physically which is not a bad thing uwu

Yuta finds it kind of hard to openly joke around to the same extent with others as he does to you and knowing this makes you feel really special

Like yeah!! Thats right!!! Im his best friend!!

Yuta also LOVES to dance with you

It doesn’t matter if it’s serious or not, he will not hesitate to pull you up onto ur feet and have you dancing with him

ESP to sistars shake it! Y’all have so much fun when that song comes on

At first this was embarrassing but then yuta would just NOT stop shaking his butt so you were like oh well lets both look cutely dumb i guess

And you’ll get noise complaints a lot bc the walls are thin and you’re moving around, creating a lot of noise and you feel especially bad when this is all happening at like,,,3am

Anyways you live kind of a fast pace life so whenever you gotta be somewhere you kinda fly out the door with ur feet shoved into ur shoes with the backs down and yuta will silently come behind you and remind you to slow down and will bend down and personally make sure they’re on properly so you don’t trip and die

It annoys him sometimes bc you should be taking better care of yourself and he’s not always going to be there to look after you and that worries him!!!

To allow him to sleep a little better at night, he bought you slide on shoes that you can easily shove on and fly out the door so he won’t have a heart attack at the thought of you falling down some stairs due to the hastiness of which you put your sneakers on improperly

And he’s also the one who is like “hey its been a couple of months so i bought you a new toothbrush bc dental hygiene is important” and you’re like “okay nice i just bought some new toothpaste on sale the other day, it’s minty so i think you’ll like it”

And this is how you two co-exist in ur shitty lil apartment

Yuta is also into soccer so you always make sure to go and support him at his games! Even if they’re just practices or whatnot, you’ll always be on the bleachers cheering for him!

Which yuta LOVES because he’ll point you out to his teammates and be like “thats my best friend, ugly, right?” and they’ll just laugh bc of his teasing and they can tell you two really get along

And yuta is uwu x100 at this

Anyways yuta likes to show off and do fancy tricks like sliding on the grass to get the ball and he’s all dirty when you get back to ur apartment together and you wont let him touch anything bc that means more cleaning which neither of u have the energy for

So you’ll basically make him take VERY large and wide steps towards the bathroom so he can shower and leave minimal dirt behind as he does so

And then he’ll come out of the shower with wet hair and clean up the tracks he left with a paper towel but he’ll go in circles for a good 30 seconds wiping up dirt and then water from his wet hair

And you’ll observe him and laugh for a bit before you’ll drape a fluffy towel over his head and he’ll pretend to be scared and ask who turned off the lights

To which you nudge him and call him a dork, but when he takes the towel off and get to look at his face, you tell him he did a great job at the game and his eyes will change from playful teasing to filled with genuine love in .5 seconds and he’ll instantly wrap you in his arms

And you’ll find warmth in his embrace and wonder why he smells so good and then you’ll realize he’s using your shampoo

You’re like okay well, sigh, whatever its okay bc hes cute i guess so we can share

And then yuta will pull away, give your head an affectionate pat and go work on a paper or something due for school

Which you both do a lot of late night paper writing sessions and so when he tells you he’s retreating to his room for the night you’ll go and cut up some fruit and gather some snacks he likes and bring them to him before he becomes too absorbed in schoolwork

And he does the same to you except he brings you a lot of water since its “important to stay hydrated~!” and will cover you in his favorite blanket bc he claims it “helps you write better papers”

And you arent allowed to refuse bc one time you tried to and yuta was like “okay well i guess i’ll be moving out then” and you’re like okay i know you’re joking but its hot in here i dont want to have a blanket on me

And yuta starts to dramatically pick things off of shelves until he’s saying things like “i’ll be out by morning since im not appreciated” and you’re rolling your eyes so hard you think they’ll go to the back of your head but its like okay fine thank you for your magic blanket houdini

Yuta just winks at you and does a theatrical bow before putting everything back and leaving you to write your magical paper

ANYWAYS thats what most nights are like, full of playful banter and fun talks

You also both THRIVE off the dollar store which is literally everything bc you two get so excited going in there!

They have everything so its like?? This place is my Second Home and i Love it Dearly

And yuta likes to buy candy there since its so cheap and one time when you were looking for a new broom, he wanders off and comes back with his hands behind his back and is like “guess what i found!!!”

And this is nothing new because yuta gets excited about the cutest things so you’re like “gum?”

And his smile gets all wide and bright like i KNOW you know the one im talking about, it’s literally kept me alive for the past 18 years

And he’ll bring his hands out and WOW ARE THOSE ERASERS THAT ARE SHAPED AS SMALL ORDINARY OBJECTS??

And you just want to CRY bc thats literally the sole being of your friendship in his HANDS!

Yuta is proud as heck and buys two matching ones for you two and they’re of paintbrushes in honor of the one he snatched in the third grade!

Which makes your heart so happy and content

But thats the effect yuta has on you! Someone who always manages to have you smiling and happy with life

But he does end up buying candy bc its basically your duty as a human to buy some expired candy from the local dollar store

And yuta really loves the flavor blue raspberry, esp if its sour and he finds a bag of sour jolly ranchers and goes nuts

And he picks out and religiously eats only the blue ones, a red one makes the cut here and there, but you’re like?? Yuta?? Can i atleast have ONE? And he rarely ever shares but its like okay whatever enjoy your cavities heathen

And you’ll clown the shit out of him bc his tongue is blue, his teeth are blue and the area around his mouth is blue and you cant just let that pass

And he’ll laugh when you try and come up with palpable things to call him, and when you’re both giggling uncontrollably, he’ll try to kiss your cheek bc he’s all sticky and he knows that would drive you mad

And its the same with his fingers bc theyre all blue and sticky too and he’ll hold your hand so hard that your fingers stick together and youre like yuta!!!! But you really secretly enjoy it

And then you’ll go home with bags full of god knows what and struggle to find places for everything but its okay bc the memories that come with the plastic bags and erasers from your childhood remind you why you love yuta as much as you do

Can you tell i love yuta yet or is this au too vague <3333

[pandamancer11]

Makoto’s Story - Chapter 1

**This is the first installment in a series I've dedicated to telling Makoto Niijima's side of the story in the events that take place through Persona 5.

It's been a ton of fun to explore the everyday life, turned adventure of a lifetime, of one of my favorite characters in the game! This series will loosely follow the plot of Persona, but I will be throwing a healthy batch of headcanon and my own narrative.

So if that's your thing, please join me as we see the world of Persona through the eyes of the Queen herself! **

Chapter 1: A Day in the Life

I placed the papers back on the table and rubbed my sore eyes.

‘No matter how many times I run the numbers, the board has simply hasn’t given me the funds I need to pull this off…’

Lifting my face from my hands, I gave a tentative glance to the clock.

‘Five thirty already? I’ve been at this for hours, but there is still so much to be done.’ I drew in a deep breath ‘I hate to complain to the school board. They have lent a great deal of trust to me. Trusting me to be able to budget and plan this year’s up-coming student festival for the school. I just wish they had given me a little more to work with here…’

I grouped my scattered papers together, stacked them nicely and placed them neatly back in my bag. ‘I guess I’m just going to have to come back in again this Sunday to try to figure this out. Though I still don’t know what use it would be. I’ve been working on this every day for the past two weeks. I’m afraid I may end disappointing principal Kobayakawa and the whole school at this rate.’

My bag in hand, I stood and slid the chair back in its place. ‘I simply can’t let that happen. I knew, going in, becoming school president wasn’t going to be an easy task. I’ll just have to double my efforts tomorrow morning.’

I shut and locked the door to the student council office behind me. The school hallway was barren. Not a student or a teacher in sight. Most of the hall lights were off, and the only source of illumination was coming from the dwindling sun through the large bay windows overlooking the courtyard. It’s not like I was unaccustomed to being the only one left in the school.

It was just part of the routine at this point. Get to school early, hold meetings, go to class, check in on clubs, have a meeting with principal Kobayakawa, continue planning for the festival, and now, go home to get my studying done. I won’t say it’s been particularly easy since I became a third year here at Shujin Academy, but it’s all a part of ‘growing up’ as Sae told me.

How could I complain about my workload when my sister has not only come up against all expectations of her as an unmarried woman in the male-dominated work environment that is the SUI office but has blazed a path for me.

Not only did she graduate at the top of her class in law school, but she was even invited to be a prosecutor for the special investigations department. Becoming the first woman to do so. I’ve learned so much from her and would be privileged to live up to being even a fraction of what she is.

“Well hey there miss school president!” A man’s voice called to me. I looked towards the source and found the school’s volleyball coach, Mr. Kamoshida, was walking in my direction from further down the hallway. Probably fresh from the team practice considering the time of day.

“What has you at the school this late hour Niijima? Classes ended a few hours ago.” He grinned and rubbed the back of his head “Probably up to some student council business eh?”

I gave a smile back and a slight bow “Good evening Mr. Kamoshida. Yes, sir, the council has needed me to stay a little later after school to help organize the student festival that is coming up in a couple of months.”

“You are already working on that thing?” he let out a slight chuckle “You big brained students never cease to amaze me! Showing such initiative and dedication will surely be in your favor when it comes to college applications.”

“Thank you, sir. We are certainly trying our best to provide the best experience for our fellow students here at Shujin!”

“Well, I’m sure it will show when the time comes” He shifted his weight to the opposite leg and crossed his arms “You know Makoto, we could really use someone with your talents on the girls’ volleyball team.” Mr. Kamoshida suggested, “Now I know you have a lot on your plate at the moment, but we are holding tryouts for next semester’s team soon.”

I clutched my bag “Thank you for the offer sir, but I’m not really the athletic type-”

“Nonsense! Volleyball is more than just raw physical skill. It’s all about strategy. Having the ability to out-think as well as outmaneuver your opponent.” He mimed serving a volleyball “Strength means nothing without the ability to read the opponents weaknesses” Kamoshida spiked his imaginary ball “then exploiting that weakness to gain victory!” He dusted off his hands and smiled widely “And I think you’re just the girl to give us that much-needed edge! Besides, I can tell from just looking at you. You have quite the physic. I’m sure your body is capable of more than you give it credit for!”

My shoulders tightened “That’s very kind of you to say, sir. But as you did point out earlier, I do have quite a lot on my plate at the moment-”

He crossed his arms once again “Oh! No need to make a decision now! Just promise me you’ll think about it. I can assure you, you’ll be one of my first picks if you try out! I know you wouldn’t need another letter of recommendation from a teacher, but one more certainly couldn’t hurt.”

I nodded “It’s a very tempting and generous offer sir. I will certainly give it a great deal of thought when the time comes.”

He shot me a knowing grin “Now, we talked about this, no need for the sir stuff ok? Just call me Suguru. And hopefully soon, coach!”

“Yes si-, sorry, Suguru. I will do well to remember in the future” I faced the door that left the hallway “Well, I should be going or I’ll miss my train.”

He gestured to the door “Oh of course! Sorry for keeping you! Have a good rest of your day Makoto. See you tomorrow.”

I nodded in return “You as well!” and pulled open the door and hastily walked through. I watched the door slowly close behind me and took a breath. I could feel my palms moist with sweat. ‘Now now Makoto. You’re being ridiculous.’ I assured myself ‘You know they are all just rumors. We were simply having a friendly conversation, nothing more.’ I gave myself a moment to recompose. Once I had my legs back underneath myself, I made my way out of the front hall and towards the subway station.

 **

 The apartment looked the same as it did that morning when I left for school. I examined the clock on the wall ‘Hmm. Sis should have been home by now.’ Locking the door behind me, I placed my bag and jacket on the sofa and headed to the kitchen. ‘She must be pulling another all-nighter at the office.’

I pulled out a Tupperware of leftover homemade ramen I made earlier in the week. Being sure to make plenty and to portion out some for Sae as well. She works so hard, and she’s kind enough to house me at her apartment after all. The least I could do is make her a meal. However, when I opened up the fridge, I saw her container of ramen still full and untouched after sitting there for days.

‘Come to think of it’ I silently considered to myself ‘when was the last time I saw her home?’ I poured the last of my soup into a pot and let it heat back up on the stove top. ‘Maybe I should just shoot her a text and make sure she’s fine…’

I tapped my phone's screen back to life and opened up the messenger app. ‘Evening Sis. Sorry to bother you. I know you must be hard at work at the office. Just haven’t heard from you in a while and wanted to make sure you were well. Please let me know if I can do anything to help!’

The ramen had already started to steam, so I took a bowl from a nearby cupboard and set my place at the table. I pulled my seat up and let the aroma of the warm soup fill my lungs. It still smelt delicious. In this batch, I played with the ratio of chili sauce to broth. It absolutely paid off.

After a few spoonfuls, I noticed just how quiet it was in the house. I wasn’t particularly sure why it stood out to me just then of all times. Ever since Sae let me move in with her, it’s always kind of been like this. The apartment was beautiful. Matching cream-colored sofas in the living room. Lovely gray and black colored curtains. Even a couple of potted ferns and lilies to brighten the room a little. And under a stunningly hand carved coffee table laid a gorgeous ornate rug.

Sae’s apartment certainly didn’t lack a sense of taste. When she moved in, she even hired an interior decorator to give the place its distinct style and character. It gave off a sort of beautiful minimalistic feel.

Still, I had to admit, it lacked warmth. Can’t say I’ve ever complete felt comfortable in it. Though it was a near art piece, it still felt hollow somehow.

The stillness was putting me on edge, so I clicked on the TV in the living room a listened while I ate. The large screen popped to life, and the SNN breaking news logo streaked across the screen.

 ‘-Experts are still baffled as to what caused the trains to crash earlier this April. The subway’s conductor had cleared all tests for narcotics, or any substances of any kind, in his system. Even after extensive interrogation, he still cannot recall why he would have sent his train speeding down the track, far over recommended speeds, causing the massive crash into Shibuya station, killing dozens and injuring even more.-’ A reporter announced

‘Oh right, that train crash that happened earlier in the school year. It was fortunate it was on a Sunday, or Shujin students very easily could have been on that train or at the station.’ I stirred the noodles while listening to the broadcaster continue.

‘The conductor is still awaiting his court date to face a judge over whether the matter is to be considered criminal neglect or manslaughter.’ Another reporter chimed in ‘Now why isn’t he just being thrown in jail for murder? He wasn’t under any sort drug as you said, then he had to have been in a clear state of mind when he killed all those people’

‘Many have asked the same.’ The first reporter retorted ‘However, after the incident, it was confirmed by a doctor at the scene that the conductor had had a seizure of some sort behind the wheel. He was said to be foaming at the mouth, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He was said to be lucky to recover from such an accident-’

I clicked the tv back off and sighed “I really don’t feel like hearing about train accidents right now” I murmured to myself while getting up. I grabbed my school bag and sat back down at the dinner table. Undid the latch and brought out my notes from the day. Segregating the binders and papers into separate piles by classes, I cracked open the first.

Before starting, I grouped a few noodles together and chomped down on a mouth full. My stomach growled with desire for more. “Hmm. Forgot how long ago lunch was. Guess my stomach didn’t.” I rubbed my tired eyes and got to work on my homework ‘Ok. Question one: according to the philosopher Plato, the soul is composed of appetite, spirit and what else?’

[geewobbles]

World War Kitchen: Spoon’s Army

World War Kitchen: Spoon’s Army

A round table with multiple people sitting around it, and the leader pacing in front, papers are strewn across the table.

*Spoon kills fork heir* *laughs maniacally over the fork body*

1/4 Measuring Cup: *gasps audibly* No! Spoon has killed Archduke Franz Forkinand! He said that we're next!

1 Measuring Cup: He cannot vanquish us! For we have knife on our side!

2/3 Measuring Cup: *looking at clipboard* there's a new player in the field-Spork-he has the ability to make or break the world! *holds up picture*

1/2 Measuring Cup: I know him! He comes from the small town of Cutlery

Teaspoon: But I thought that when he was needed most he vanished?

1 Measuring Cup: He is the unknown heir of silver and ware.

Teaspoon: Hehe that rhymed.

1/4 Measuring Cup: He has a destiny to become something but has it rough because he isn't made of hero stuff

2/3 Measuring Cup: Not the glistening grey we know today but of….. The dull white plastich!

1/4 Measuring Cup: He may be flexible but he wasn't built for combat

1 Measuring Cup: *slams fist on table* WE CANNOT REST UNTIL SPORK IS FOUND AND THE FATE OF THE UNIVERSE IS DECIDED!

1/2 Measuring Cup: Well that escalated quickly

2/3 Measuring Cup: Until Spoon is dead, gone, or hopefully this doesn't happen, all-powerful, then and only then may we rest… Either in peace or PIECES.

Teaspoon: DEATH TO SPOON!

1/4 Measuring Cup: Knife will locate the threats while we locate Spork

1 Measuring Cup: What about Fork?

1/2 Measuring Cup: She's undecided at the moment… *looks into distance* she could either help Spork or destroy him

2/3 Measuring Cup: Even after we find him how can we be sure he won't pull an Anakin?

1/2 Measuring Cup: We must contact Fork, but not just any fork… The fork of three tines- The mighty provider of the sea god!

1/4 Measuring Cup: THE FORK?!

2/3 Measuring Cup: Yes. THE fork.

1/2 Measuring Cup: The only love of knife. He is the only one who can summon her, and even then she still may not come…

Teaspoon: But she must help…. She's our only hope…

1 Measuring Cup: Well we have to have hope. How does this affect Spoon anyway? *nobody listen* w*listens to radio*

2/3 Measuring Cup: *talks to audience as hq workers talk amongst themselves* unknown to us ladle is secretly working with the enemy.

1/4 Measuring Cup: *gasps* LADLE IS WORKING WITH THE ENEMY!!! AS IS SCRAPER!!!

Teaspoon: I thought he was neutral!

1 Measuring Cup: I guess there is corruption in every corner of the Kitchen

1/2 Measuring Cup: WHAT ABOUT THE MEASURING CUPS?!

2/3 Measuring Cup: They together make up the council and are so far unpredictable.

1/4 Measuring Cup: SPATULA AND WHISK HAVE JOINED SPOON AND HIS ARMY!!

Teaspoon: Well if they've joined, grater can't be far behind… Please tell me he hasn't joined yet?!

1/2 Measuring Cup: Hopefully he's stayed out of it…

1/4 Measuring Cup: Nope.

1/2 Measuring Cup: Dang it.

2/3 Measuring Cup: We need to send in troops to protect the weapons base: the Fridge

1 Measuring Cup: Well so far it seems that the land of Cupboardonthefarleft, one word- home of the gentle race of coffee mugs, is the first target.

1/4 Measuring Cup: NOT THE COFFEE MUGS!!! THEY'RE TOO YOUNG TO DIE!!

2/3 Measuring Cup: The Fridge is a pretty sketchy place guys…. Who knows what leftovers are in there…

Teaspoon:Touché (too shay) … *gasps* What about spoons nasty torture chamber? What was it…. Oh! Microwave.

2/3 Measuring Cup:We don't speak of Microwave!

1/4 Measuring Cup: *talks over 2/3 Measuring Cup* Let's not forget to mention the innocent and yet the totally blamed culture standing in the way of everything, Tupperware.  

1 Measuring Cup: touchy subject… Have you been?

2/3 Measuring Cup: Not me but someone close to me…

1/2 Measuring Cup: Was it.. Was it pizza cutter?

1/4 Measuring Cup: It wasn't Fork was it?!

2/3 Measuring Cup: It was Saran Wrap! It didn't end well… He melted all over the rice!

1 Measuring Cup: Didn't tinfoil try to rescue him?

2/3 Measuring Cup: of course!

1/2 Measuring Cup: But it was too late wasn't it?

2/3 Measuring Cup: Together they were thrown into the Garbage Can… The kitchen cemetery….

Teaspoon: Dark times… I mean how could Spoon do that? And to rice! One of the kinder foods!

1/4 Measuring Cup: We must avenge every death caused by Spoon!

1 Measuring Cup: We need Spork!

2/3 Measuring Cup: Knife we need you to call on Fork now!

Knife: I will try…

Teaspoon: where is fork located?

1/2 Measuring Cup: *at the same time as Teaspoon* we need fork first… Only she can ensure Sporks destiny

1/4 Measuring Cup: it's difficult to tell but I believe I've made some contact with Fork though the signal is weak!

Knife: her location is classified only level impurity knows her location, and if they share it, war will break out.

1 Measuring Cup: Spoon started this war!! War has already begun!! She needs to come out and fight!!

Teaspoon: Knife is our only hope!

2/3 Measuring Cup: *gasp while holding pile of papers* I may have something!

(Other team members ask questions along the line of what's and whatcha find)

2/3 Measuring Cup: Yes of course! She is hiding in the faraway land of Bottom Drawer!

1/2 Measuring Cup: Wonderful! *clapping noises* as soon as you make a connection we can teleport her here in a flash!

2/3 Measuring Cup: Wait! There isn't a handle on the bottom drawer!

1/4 Measuring Cup: what?! We are done for!

Teaspoon: Knife can pry it open!

1/4 Measuring Cup: *desperately wails* It will take months to journey there!

1 Measuring Cup: Well we needed him there…. Yesterday. Figure something out.

1/2 Measuring Cup: Knife should try to make it there but are there any trusted allies who are already near the Bottom Drawer who could open the Gate?

Teaspoon: Well…. Mixer could… But….

1/2 Measuring Cup: There isn't an outlet near the Bottom Drawer….

1 Measuring Cup: It's the only chance we have! Contact someone immediately and get that gate open!

All: Yes ma'am

1/4 Measuring Cup: Then we need to get power strip and extension cord, the most famous duo in Kitchen to help us

1 Measuring Cup: Well Extension Cord is in the dangerous land of Garage and we need to find him if Mixer is to have enough strength.

Teaspoon: Garage is too far ma'am.

1 Measuring Cup: Yes yes.. Maybe scissors will have connections?

1/4 Measuring Cup: Hopefully she hasn't severed them

1/4 Measuring Cup giggles *plays ba dum tiss sound* all glare at 1/4 Measuring Cup

1/2 Measuring Cup: Well knowing scissors…. She's kinda well I can't say the word I want but knowing her she probably has

1 Measuring Cup: We need to act now or all the civilization of Kitchen will be lost!

2/3 Measuring Cup: Scissors needs to take her anger out at spoon. I know she stabbed her brother but she was forced by spoon

Teaspoon: Why isn't oven or stove helping? They have to be involved somehow…. *everyone ignore her*

1 Measuring Cup: How is knife's journey to Bottom Drawer going?

Teaspoon: Has Fork been found?

2/3 Measuring Cup: *reviewing papers**gasps**pulls out Star Wars meme from drawer* ITS A TRAP. Sorry I had to… Couldn't resist. But seriously SPOON PUT HER THERE!!

1/4 Measuring Cup: Extension is the fastest traveler I know and will be to Bottom Drawer in a few hours time

Scissors: I suppose I could open the drawer… But at a price.

2/3 Measuring Cup: WHY ARE NONE OF YOU LISTENING?? IT. IS. A. TRAP. SPOON HAS WHISK AND GRATER WAITING FOR MIXER!!

1 Measuring Cup: It's all over now…

2/3 Measuring Cup: What happened? Did they make it? Please scissor what is your price? Please help us! You are our only hope!

Scissors: *seductively* what are you willing to pay for my services??

1 Measuring Cup: We have lost all communications with Knife, but all hope isn't lost. What are you willing to bargain for?

1/2 Measuring Cup: KNIFE IS GONE.  IT'S ALL OVER NOW.

Knife: DON'T LISTEN TO SCISSORS… She's working for the enemy… She injured me and killed Extension cord. Here's his head * 1/4 Measuring Cup holds like a telegram picture of extension cord head*

Teaspoon: NOT EXTENSION CORD!

*room goes black*

1/4 Measuring Cup: Well… Shoot. (DO. NOT. SWEAR. I REPEAT. DO. NOT. SWEAR.)

1 Measuring Cup: Get power back on! Stat!

All: Yes ma'am!

NEXT DAY

 2/3 Measuring Cup: *reviewing papers* *wails* THE HORROR! The peace of the Coffee Mug people has been destroyed as we slept!

1/2 Measuring Cup: We must take action!

1/4 Measuring Cup: War is upon us!

1 Measuring Cup: We have no time to mourn! Who will be in our army?!

Teaspoon: I don't know ma'am…

1 Measuring Cup: WE NEED WARRIORS

2/3 Measuring Cup: *looks over stats* The Steak Knives!!

1/2 Measuring Cup: The wounded coffee mugs are also ready to fight ma'am!

1 Measuring Cup: The most cunning combined with the most strategic

1/2 Measuring Cup: They can rally the other races of cups as well!

1/4 Measuring Cup: YES!! Wine glasses, tumblers, and milk glasses have agreed to help the Resistance.

Teaspoon: Where do bowls stand in all of this?

1 Measuring Cup: Bowls are allies with Spoon! How could you forget? Plates, however, could be useful….

2/3 Measuring Cup: I think coffee maker is ready to avenge his people's deaths…

1 Measuring Cup: Yes of course, he has pledged his services to the Resistance and the Coffee Cup Nation

1/4 Measuring Cup: Coffee Maker is most useful guarding the lands to prevent further attack seeing as Extension Cord… Is… *sobs* no longer with us..

1/2 Measuring Cup: Alright time to ask what we're all thinking… How is Knife fairing?

1 Measuring Cup: We still don't know.. connection hasn’t been the best, and last we heard Scissors had just stabbed them, metaphorically, in the back.

2/3 Measuring Cup: *Looks at map where knife is located aka stabbed in board* I see no one close to him to rush to his aid and brave the trap…

Teaspoon: Coffee Maker could send his minions, coffee filters to save knife…

1 Measuring Cup: Coffee Filters are weak and disposable!

2/3 Measuring Cup: Yes ma'am I understand but there are many of them and they are loyal to the Resistance 1 Measuring Cup: Exactly! *raspy noises show up* Knife?! How did you contact us?! Are you alright?!

1/4 Measuring Cup: Ma'am it might not be Knife… It could be scissors….

Knife: I cannot stay long as I am badly injured but not far from the Drawer… With some help I should be able to get it open

Teaspoon: that was definitely Knifes voice

1/4 Measuring Cup: Alright alright after he said he was injured I knew it was him.

1 Measuring Cup: How did you fight off scissors?

Knife: Quick!.... Send…. Coff…. ters…. osin… Y………… *raspy noises are continual. Someone turns off speaker*

1 Measuring Cup: Coffee filters are on their way to aid you, it should buy you enough time to break in and escape. Good Luck!

Teaspoon: I hope Knife succeeds… The whole safety of Kitchen depends on it.

1 Measuring Cup: Well now that we know what's happening on that end of things, we can buy him more time if we advance our army here, *moves pieces into Spoons Homeland* Cabinet Hill, spoon’s homeland

1/4 Measuring Cup: Ma'am we have Intel from the Coffee Mugs

1 Measuring Cup: Anything useful?

2/3 Measuring Cup: Isn't spoon located in the Top Drawer…. *reviews papers*

1/2 Measuring Cup: No that's where his army is located not necessarily Spoon himself though

1/4 Measuring Cup: But Coffee Mugs told us that his army recuperated at Top Drawer and now is planning on attacking Cutlery and killing Spork.

Teaspoon: Knife needs to hurry and free Spork

1 Measuring Cup: Definitely. We can slow them down with our ever growing army and buy knife more time to beat the army to Cutlery

Teaspoon: What are spoons plans himself?

2/3 Measuring Cup: He is planning on taking out anyone standing in his way of Cutlery. He wants Spork as bad as we do but for worse intentions. At least that's what the Intel says…

Teaspoon: Ohhh… Why have we heard nothing from fork!? She has to have some form of communication….

1/4 Measuring Cup: Why isn't Spork contacting us as well?

1 Measuring Cup: Spork has gone into hiding, he doesn't want to be disturbed… He fears if he interacts with too many people he will turn to the darkside….

1/4 Measuring Cup: *telegram from fork* FORK HAS BEEN FOUND!!!

1 Measuring Cup: YES! Spork can come out of hiding now!

2/3 Measuring Cup: Ma'am knife is trying to contact us again..

1 Measuring Cup: Excellent! How are you faring? Rolling pin is on his way to you to provide you with transportation.

Knife: I am doing much better… It was a tough battle to get into Bottom Drawer but as soon as the gate was open the enemy retreated. The coffee filters have covered my wounds and I will be healed soon. Fork is glad we found her and is willing to help.

1 Measuring Cup: Wonderful. Rolling pin is bringing you fresh supplies to aid you and will get you to Cutlery in half the time… Making it possible to beat spoons army…

1/4 Measuring Cup: Spork must be the first one helped! I fear Spoon is slowly turning him darkside….

2/3 Measuring Cup: Ma'am! Steak knives have announced their fighting status but have lost all men on the front lines! The enemy is breaking through the second defenses but are slowing down.

Knife: I can see rolling pin, my old pal, getting closer on the horizon. God bless his speedy little heart.

1 Measuring Cup: Great. I will inform Steak Knife Commander

1/2 Measuring Cup: *random scissor noises* I hear scissor noises… Is that scissors?!

Knife: it can't be she's dead!

1 Measuring Cup: You must beat her! Three Tine Fork is also very powerful! Her strength and yours combined is unbeatable!

Napkins: *static noises* Come in hq come in

1 Measuring Cup: I read you

Napkins: We have located Spork in the deepest cave in Cutlery! We don't have a twist tie long enough to reach him. All we can do is guard the cave.

Knife: ROLLING PIN HAS BEEN WOUNDED. Scissors is dead now… For real. You were right about Fork being powerful.

1/2 Measuring Cup: rolling pin will come through! He must!

2/3 Measuring Cup: Wait napkins are you saying he's in the Corner Bottom Cupboard? Isn't it a lazy Susan?

Teaspoon: Not the labyrinth that is the Lazy Susan!

Napkins: No this is worse! I wasn't even aware Cutlery had one of these….. A sink drain…. The only way to the bottom is to free fall and pray for a soft landing….

1/2 Measuring Cup: Not the Sink Drain!!!! Please tell me there's no garbage disposal!?

1 Measuring Cup: If Spork made it down there alive he is facing the most horrifying things… and thankfully there isn't a garbage disposal otherwise all hope would be lost and the sink would be broken

1/4 Measuring Cup: What about the chef ma'am?

1 Measuring Cup: he's on his own side and napkins can't go down the drain as they will get all soggy and dissolve. I'm willing to bet Spork knows how to escape...

2/3 Measuring Cup: I'm telling you ma'am-

Knife: Rolling pin has just  arrived and I need to know where to go…

2/3 Measuring Cup: *at the same time as 1 Measuring Cup* Lazy Susan *angry glares*

1 Measuring Cup: *at the same time as 2/3 Measuring Cup* Sink Drain! *angry glares*

1 Measuring Cup: *at 2/3 Measuring Cup* He willingly went into the drain for hiding! He knew no one would be dumb enough to follow him there…

2/3 Measuring Cup: He still wouldn't fit! The curve alone and rate he was falling at would kill him!

1/2 Measuring Cup: The drain is the most obvious choice…. Letters have confirmed his position in the field…

Teaspoon:*at 2/3 Measuring Cup* what's your source? *metaphorically snaps*

2/3 Measuring Cup: Letters can be tampered with and I don't have one!

Knife: Hold on! We have completely forgotten that fork has the strongest connection with him!

1 Measuring Cup: Yes, ask Fork… She'll lead you to the Drain I'm sure of it….

1/4 Measuring Cup: What if he's not in either?

Napkins: We can hear Spoons Army approaching!

Knife: I have consulted with Fork and he is not in either of those places… He's under the island!

Napkins: We need to retreat! Where is Headquarters?!

2/3 Measuring Cup: *looks at clipboard* Only Level Impurity can know our position given that it's classified but I've been told we’re near Thecupboardabovethefridgethatnobodyactuallyopens. All one word.

Knife: We will go to the Island and find Spork. If he is not there all will be lost! We’ll try to keep in contact.

Napkins: TELL MY CRUMBS I LOVE THEM!!! *napkin screeches* *static*

1/2 Measuring Cup: HOW WILL DISH TOWEL AND CRUMBS GET BY?!?! YOU CANNOT DIE!

1 Measuring Cup: What happened to napkin?

1/4 Measuring Cup: Napkin… Is… No more…

1 Measuring Cup: No time to mourn! Knife get to the island! It won't take long for Spoon to search through napkins Intel and find Sporks location!

Teaspoon: Go knife go!!

Knife: Thanks to rolling pin we're already halfway there!

Teaspoon: Thank goodness

2/3 Measuring Cup: I'm afraid they've thrown the napkins down the drain… There is no hope for survival…

1 Measuring Cup: Dang it! *scatters papers off the table* *Teaspoon and 1/2 Measuring Cup panic and pick them up*

Knife: That's terrible! Now what do I do?

1 Measuring Cup: Stay the course- find Spork

Teaspoon: Spork will save us! I know it!

Knife: He's still at the island right?

1/4 Measuring Cup: yes I believe so… We really have no way of knowing for sure… We just have to hope…

Knife: we've reached the island. It's a freaking war zone and spoons men are everywhere searching for Spork!

1/2 Measuring Cup: Have fork arrange a meeting place

Knife: Already done. We're going to meet with him now.

1 Measuring Cup: Great. Tell us whether he'll help or not

Knife: he has agreed to come with us. He has allied with the Tupperware that live under the island. They are surprisingly strong warriors and are determined to prove their loyalty to the Resistance. They will come back with us to strengthen our army.

Teaspoon: Excellent

Knife: we have fought our way out. Spoon has many men but they are weak. Where should we meet you?

1 Measuring Cup: We're at the stove.. Shouldn't be too long of a trip

1/2 Measuring Cup: Sending coordinates now

Knife: The stove it is! Fork, Spork, and I will be there shortly and the Tupperware are following close behind.

2/3 Measuring Cup: Oh Tupperware…

1 Measuring Cup: It appears that this will be the last stand and whether we fall or rise it is in Spork’s nonexistent hands!

2/3 Measuring Cup: *battle cry voice* TO THE DEATH!!!!

Teaspoon: FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!!!

Knife: We've just arrived

1/4 Measuring Cup: Spoon Just said to Spork: Spork you cannot hide from me! I'm your brother!

1/4 Measuring Cup: He also just said he won't stop until Sporks dead!!

*collective gasps* *one random sob*

1 Measuring Cup: knife tell Spork he must save us!

Teaspoon: Spork just said he didn't know how but he doesn't fear his brother!

1/2 Measuring Cup: I guess Spoon likes a fearless enemy…

2/3 Measuring Cup: Ma'am people are talking… Too many voices… Spork is randomly glowing!

1 Measuring Cup: *to audience* As Sporks glowing intensified- so we heard in later reports- Spoon froze on his spot, his non existent face contorted with pain as the metal that he was made of began to crackle and turn into….

2/3 Measuring Cup: PLASTICH!

1 Measuring Cup: That was my line…

2/3 Measuring Cup: Sorry ma'am….

Knife: Tupperware take him down!!!

Spoon: NO NOT ME *spoon breaks* maybe just break a plastich spoon??*

Knife: It's all over now. Stand down spoons army!!

1/2 Measuring Cup: *to audience* Spoons army began to surrender- as we heard later- but then at that moment the Burners of the land of Stove clicked on…

*random hissing and screams*

1 Measuring Cup: What is that noise?!

2/3 Measuring Cup: ma'am I getting reports that Spork has fallen! I repeat Spork has- HE'S MELTING!!!

1 Measuring Cup: *to audience* Everyone died. (Say as flat as possible)

1/2 Measuring Cup: There's more to it ma'am… Tupperware as well as Spoons army perished in the land of stove…

1/4 Measuring Cup: But knife and three tine fork survived!! But I hear they fled and went into hiding….

Teaspoon: So we won't be hearing from them for a while…

1/2 Measuring Cup: But there is a rumor floating amongst the ranks that knife and fork dragged a partially melted Spork with them as they fled….

1 Measuring Cup: Thank goodness Spoon perished…. All is well….

2/3 Measuring Cup: Peace rules the land of kitchen… Finally. Until that fateful day when Chef decided to cook again..  *looks into distance* But that's a story for another day.

The End

       *measuring cups were friends and I and this was a school project born out of late night texts

@merry-lesbian @botanist-princess thought you might like this trip down memory lane

[spine-buster]

I Thought You Might Be Mine (Ricochet) - Part I

May 29, 2014 Tokyo, Japan

When Iris Capshaw moved to Tokyo one year ago, her mother’s advice mulled in her mind as she would sit in her small apartment, alone in a city of nearly forty million people:

Never let fear get in the way of you making your decisions, honey.  You were born to do something greater with your life than to just do what everybody expected of you.

Iris took anything her mother said to her to heart.  So when her mother whispered those words to her in the airport, right before Iris went through the security gate, she seriously considered getting them tattooed across her forehead.  They were words she would live by.  They were words she’d carry with her forever.

Iris took those words and created her favourite piece of art that she hung in her apartment instead of getting that forehead tattoo.  It hung proudly just over her television.  A constant reminder.

Iris had always been…different than her other siblings.  While her older brother was more content with reading books and her younger sister with colouring, Iris was always causing some sort of commotion.  When she was a toddler, she’d open the Tupperware drawer in her family home and stack them as high as they could go before they’d come crashing down – only to keep doing it over and over again.  When she was old enough to use the stove and learn how to cook, she’d always try out new recipes that would leave the kitchen looking like a bomb had gone off.  She begged – begged – her parents to allow her to attend any and all field trips her high school offered to students, even going so far as to work illegally in the back of a bakery at fourteen so she could earn the money herself.  

Her curiosity had always gotten the best of her.  Her parents understood from a very early age that she wasn’t going to be the child that stayed home on the weekends.  She was never going to be the child that did everything according to plan or custom.  She was never going to settle for just any course or career path.  She was a go-getter.  She was an adventurer.  She was a woman hell-bent on seeing as much of the world as possible, and would use her brains and her curiosity to get there.  

The Capshaws understood their daughter, which is why, when she announced in 2013 that she was moving to Tokyo, they didn’t bat an eyelash.  Her brother and sister put up more of a fuss than her parents.  Iris just shrugged her shoulders.  She was living out her dream.  Nobody was going to stop her.

She considered this as she walked into the offices of New Japan Pro Wrestling, the company that had hired her to teach their gaijins the basics of the Japanese language, and their Japanese stars the basics of the English language, so they could have multinational appeal.  She had already worked for the company for a year, and she could truly say she loved her job.  There were always new gaijins to teach and make friends with.  

“Hold the elevator!” she exclaimed as she rushed towards the open door.  Whoever was inside stuck their hand out politely as her shoes clicked across the tile of the lobby and finally into the elevator.  “Thank you so much,” she said, looking towards the other person in the elevator.

“It’s no problem,” the man said politely.  “What floor you going to?”

She studied him quickly.  He wore a nice pair of slacks with a crisp new polo shirt and a sports jacket.  His neck was about twice the size of a normal man’s.  He was definitely a new gaijin.  “Same floor as you.  Fourth.”

He gave her a weird look.  “How do you know where I’m going?” he asked.

“You’re a wrestler, aren’t you?” she smiled.  “You’re here for New Japan Pro Wrestling?”

“What gave it away?”

“Your neck is about double the size of almost every other man’s neck, save for the wrestlers I know.”

The man laughed as he shook his head.  “Yeah, that’ll give it away.  I’m Trevor, by the way.  Trevor Mann,” he extended his hand for her to shake.

“Iris Capshaw,” she smiled.  “What are you known as?”

“Ricochet?” he posed it as more of a question than a statement.

Suddenly, the light bulb went off in her head.  This was the Ricochet her boss was telling her about – a gaijin they were bringing in again for the upcoming Best of the Super Juniors tournament.  He had done many tours of Japan before, all with different promotions, before he caught New Japan’s eye last year.  Her first day with the company was just after the Best of the Super Juniors tournament in 2013, so she had never met him as part of the tournament last year.  

“So you’re Ricochet!” she exclaimed.  “My boss has already told me so much about you!  You must have really impressed them last year for them to call you back.”

“Yeah, I hope so,” he smiled, trying to be modest about it.  “So you work in the office, then?” he asked.

“Yeah.  I mean, I’ll probably be assigned to help you,” Iris explained.  “I’m a teacher by training.  The company hired me to teach English to its Japanese-speaking stars and Japanese to its English-speaking stars.  I also do a bit of media training and acting classes too, but that’s besides the point.”  

“You’re fluent in Japanese?” Trevor asked.  Iris nodded her head proudly.  “That’s awesome.  Must get confusing though, having to switch back and forth all the time.”

“Nah, I’m used to it by now.  The company is looking to expand and go global, right?  They want the boys to have some light English.  Plus it’s good to keep practicing or else all the guys would learn would be swear words thanks to the Young Bucks.”

Trevor snorted as the elevator dinged, letting them know they had reached their floor.  “They didn’t have you around last year.”

“I know.  But you’re in luck now,” she smiled.  “Welcome back to New Japan Pro Wrestling.”

That night, Iris was pleasantly surprised to see Trevor at dinner with all the other gaijins.  He hadn’t changed at all from when she saw him that morning, and was definitely more overdressed than the rest.  Tyson, who showed up everywhere in shorts, was busy looking at the menu, while Nick and Matt Massie were distributing chopsticks.  

“Hey boys,” she waved briefly, taking the empty seat beside Trevor.  “How’s everyone?”

A round of polite hellos and answers to her question followed.  Trevor looked thoroughly stunned that she was at the dinner.  “What are you doing here?”

She leaned away from him playfully.  “What?  You don’t want me here?” she asked, feigning shock.

“Oh believe me, I want you here,” Trevor said.  “It stops this from being a total sausage fest.”

“Perfect.  Because it’s time for your first lesson,” Iris smiled wryly.

“Lesson?!”

“I’m a teacher, remember?  Everything is going to be a lesson.  So, lesson number one – never trust Matt or Nick with directions around Tokyo.  Listen to Tyson and Tyson only.”

“HEY!” Matt protested as he handed Iris a pair of chopsticks.  “Not fair!  You misheard our directions once and suddenly we’re untrustworthy.”

“Uhh, no.  I did not mishear your directions.  You guys told me to go south instead of north because you have no concept of direction,” Iris stated firmly.  She leaned towards Trevor.  “This is before I learned the streets of Tokyo like the back of my hand.”

Nick, who was sitting beside Trevor on his other side, pulled him closer.  “Don’t listen to her.  I love her but don’t listen to her.”

Iris glared at Nick before reclaiming Trevor’s attention.  “Lesson number two.  The Japanese language as three different alphabets – hiragana, katakana, and kanji.  It’s my responsibility to get you familiar in all three.  We’re gonna start with the menu.”

“I’m an awful student, though,” Trevor said.  “Thick skull and all that.”

“Well that just means I’ll need to spend more time teaching you,” Iris said.  “I never give up on my students.”

Trevor tried to suppress his smile, but he knew he couldn’t hide it.  He watched as she reached over to grab a menu, biting his lip so he wouldn’t say anything stupid.  “I’d like that a lot.”

Iris learned a lot about Trevor during dinner.  She learned about his origins in Paducah, Kentucky, and how he started in the wrestling business.  He showed her some old pictures of him as a teenager where she nearly spit out her water at his straightened afro and scrawny body.  She almost didn’t believe he was the same person.  She learned about his son, Cameron, and how everything Trevor did was for him.  Even the double moonsaults – Iris was convinced he would break his neck doing them one day, so she asked him politely to please stop.

Trevor learned a lot about Iris, too.  He learned about her older brother, Hugo, and her younger sister, Mia.  He learned about how they moved around a lot as kids because of her dad’s job and how they finally settled in Ottawa, Canada.  He learned how she taught herself Japanese out of pure curiosity – which is how she taught herself seven other languages too (he also learned a new word – polyglot – which is what she was).  The more she talked, the more all he wanted to do was hear her speak.  She could speak in a foreign language and he’d still listen to her.  He didn’t even care about what the other guys were saying – he only wanted to hear from Iris, about Iris.  

As Kenny ordered the second round of sushi and sashimi, Iris poured water into their glasses.  “Fucking hell.  I really need to go to the washroom, but I heard Tyson ordered ahi sashimi.”

“So?  What’s the big deal?”

“It’s so fucking good here!  They go like hotcakes with these guys.  I once saw Matt stuff two into his mouth at the same time.”

Trevor snorted at the mental image.  “I’m sure you’ll be fine – he just ordered them anyway, it’ll take a while.”

Iris bit her lip.  “Hmm…you’re right,” she acquiesced, shifting her position.  “Okay, I’ll be right back, but if I miss those I’ll never be able to forgive myself.”

Trevor chuckled to himself as he watched Iris make a beeline for the washroom at the other end of the restaurant.  He kept an eye on her until she slipped through the door – even then, his mind wandered back to the things she was telling him earlier.  How her brother had just gotten married.  How she somehow broke her stove in her first apartment within the first week of moving to Japan.

“Hey Casanova,” Tyson called out from the other side of the table.  When Trevor finally turned his head, Tyson was shaking his.  “Fuck man, took you long enough.”

“What?”

“He was calling you for like ten seconds dude,” Nick giggled.  “Seems you were a little…uh, preoccupied,” he nodded his head back towards the washroom.

Trevor stayed silent as he saw Tyson smile.  “I think Trev’s gonna wanna be fluent in Japanese soon, boys,” Tyson commented.  “Whaddaya say, Trev?”

“You’re walking on thin ice, Ty,” Trevor warned, not wanting to get into it.  “You guys all friends or what?”

The boys nodded their heads in unison.  “She’s a good kid.  Always willing to help out, always willing to go that extra mile,” Nick was the first to speak up.

“She tell you how many languages she speaks?” Matt asked.  Trevor nodded his head.  “She’s a fucking genius.  Doesn’t stop her from making some stupid decisions sometimes, though.”

“What do you me--”

“Awwwwwwww yes!!!” Nick exclaimed as he saw the waitress approaching them table with a small plate.  When she set it down, Trevor noticed that it was the ahi sashimi.  The waitress had barely put the plate down before Nick, Matt, and Tyson’s chopsticks were picking up the pieces of raw fish.  Quickly, Trevor picked up his chopsticks to grab a piece.

“Hey, you said you hated tuna!” Nick protested as Trevor slightly struggled with balancing the piece of fish between the chopsticks.  “You literally just said that five minutes ago!”

“Get out of here, Massie,” Trevor giggled as he brought it over to his plate quickly.  

Suddenly, Trevor heard Tyson’s comical evil laugh.  “Watch this,” he whispered, nodding his head over.  Trevor looked to see that Iris was rushing back to the table.  He quickly looked down at the plate to see one piece of ahi sashimi left.  

“Hey Iris,” Tyson got her attention.   He didn’t even take his eyes off of her as he extended his arm towards the plate, picking up the last piece with his chopsticks before stuffing it into his mouth.  

“NOOOO!” Iris cried out as she practically collapsed back into her spot beside Trevor.  She brought her hands up to her face and looked as if she was legitimately about to cry.  “I missed it!  I missed it!  They always fucking do this!”

“Iris--” Trevor tried to interrupt.

“This is why we can’t have nice things!” she exclaimed.  All the boys could do was laugh.  “Did you stuff two into that fat mouth of yours again, Massie?” she directed towards Matt.

“Hey!”

“Iris!” Trevor finally got her attention.  “Look down at your plate, girl.”

When she did, she let out an audible gasp.  There, right below her nose, was a glorious piece of the ahi sashimi, waiting to be devoured.  It looked perfect – because it was perfect.  If she could eat only one thing for the rest of her life, it was probably this.  She looked towards Trevor.  “You?”

Trevor nodded his head.  “I saved a piece for you.”

Iris smiled.  “I knew there was a reason I already liked you best.”

When dinner was finished, Iris, Trevor, Nick, and Matt took a taxi back to the district where their hotel (and Iris’s apartment) was, while Tyson was able to walk home from the restaurant.  She didn’t know when exactly Trevor had gotten into Japan, but she assumed the jetlag was going to hit him hard sooner or later.  Plus, she thought he would want to get a good night’s sleep before the beginning of the Best of the Super Juniors tournament started tomorrow.

“Do you have a cellphone yet?” Iris asked Trevor once the driver had stopped at a light and Matt began making small talk with him.

“I got nothing besides wifi,” Trevor said, getting his phone out of his pocket.  

“Okay, tomorrow before the show we’re going to go out and get you a Japanese sim card,” she said, grabbing the phone from him and opening his Facebook app.  He watched as she searched her own name and clicked to request her as a friend.  “It will be, like, less than twelve hours from now, but just in case an emergency happens, contact me here,” she informed him, handing the phone back to him.  

Trevor couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he looked down at his phone.  Her cover photo was a picture of the Tokyo skyline – no doubt a picture that she took.  Her profile picture, on the other hand, made him sceptical.

“We already have an emergency,” he said.

“What?” Iris whipped her head towards him.  “What is it?”

“Who’s this dude?” he asked, bringing up her profile picture.  “Is that Hugo?”

The picture in question was of Iris and another guy posing in some park in front of cherry blossoms, probably Shinjuku Gardens.  Iris had sunglasses on but the guy’s face was in full view for Trevor.  He tried to see if there were any similarities between the siblings but couldn’t really find any.

“That’s my boyfriend Ryder.”

Boyfriend?  Boyfriend?!  They had just flirted all night – well, at least he did – and she just decided to drop the boyfriend bomb now?!  Trevor tried to play it cool.  He really did.  Here Iris was, the right side of her body pressed against his left – fuck, he probably would have tried to kiss her if the Bucks weren’t in the fucking cab – and she had a boyfriend.  A boyfriend.  “Oh yeah?  Where is he tonight?”

“He works in Shanghai but we see each other every few weeks,” she said.

Oh hell.  Oh hell.  The dude wasn’t even around!  She was alone in Tokyo, except for the fleeting weeks he visited?  Or when she went to visit him?  Trevor didn’t know what to think.  “Uh, that’s cool.  How’d you guys meet?”

Iris chuckled.  “We met at a giajin bar, actually,” she revealed.  “He used to work in Tokyo but then got moved to Shanghai about six months ago.”

Trevor noticed Matt giving him a look from beside Iris, who had no idea.  “So he’s alright with you being in Tokyo then?”

“Why wouldn’t he be?”

Trevor shrugged his shoulders.  “I don’t know…long distance relationships and all that.  I know how stressful they can be,” he said.  “And like, you hang out with wrestlers all day.  Majority of your friends are gonna be dudes.”

“I can be friends with the opposite sex and not want to fuck them,” Iris said.

Fair enough, Trevor thought.

But could he?

@wrestlewriting @wrasslin-x @thegenericluchadora @thewriterformerlytaggedas@fan-fiction-galore @anerdysouthernbelle @spot-of-bother @amaranthine-reign@baleesi @flnnbalor @smuppies @sarahmatthews7 @daintymissdevitt@newjapan @corey-renee @running-ropes @balorsomega @karleedaniels27@kazuchika @ileana0300 @alexahood21 @ohcristimhookedonhavocimsodunne @fembxt @heelturn-timesten @kaitlynwwefan @50shadesofadamcolebaybay@50shadesofkennyomega @chasingeverybreakingwave @thyestean-feast @thecandicej @devittsbalor @sp00kylesley @danahart @sietefinns@kaydee-kayyyy @powerbombshell @swedish-strong-style @blondekel77@irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @nickysmum1909 @houndofjustice-imagines @wwesmutdonedirtcheap @wweximaginesxd @indywrestlinglover-life @mandi512 @kakakatey @ourscratcheddreams @sleeplessandcynical @badame124 @thevixeniris @fabulousrockstar @lunatic-sambrose 

[jarmes]

The Cottage

A man visits an old cottage, long since abandoned by time...

It was small, that cottage on the hill. Its white paint had long since flaked off and blown away in the wind. The windows were cracked and covered in dust. The lawn surrounding the cottage was overgrown from years of neglect and filled with yellow dandelions. I placed my hand on the door and felt the rotting wood. I twisted the rusty doorknob and, for the first time in years, walked back into the small cottage on the hill.

The smell was the first thing I noticed. The overpowering scent of mold and mildew filled my nostrils and made me gag. Still, beneath the scent of decay, I detected something familiar. The smell of cheap beer and expensive cigarettes. The cottage always smelled like cheap beer and expensive cigarettes.

I looked around the room. Somehow, it looked even smaller and more constricting on the inside. An old television set and a stained couch sat next to the door. A few feet away, a gas-powered stove and small refrigerator sat in the cottage’s “kitchen”. On the other side of the room, there were two doors, one leading to the bathroom and the other to Dan’s room.

I walked over to the TV and tapped the power button. The screen stayed dark. I wasn’t surprised. Dan rarely paid the electric bill when he was alive, so why would I expect the power to be on a week after his death?

I glanced up and saw a photograph sitting on top of the TV. The photo showed a bearded man with his arm around a young woman. A young boy held onto the woman’s hand. The bottom right corner of the photo had been ripped off. I looked closer and noticed a small hand holding onto the man’s pant leg, half obscured by the rip.

I knocked the photo over. Something about it just angered me. Maybe it was the way that the three of them seemed to be so happy. Maybe it was the shoddy attempt to hide the other child. Maybe it was simply the fact that it was a picture of Dan.

The fridge contained nothing but a case of beer and a Tupperware container containing a mysterious black substance that I assumed was inedible. I grabbed the beer and made my way to the bedroom. A small bed covered by a blue quilt sat by the door. Magazines and empty cans were strewn haphazardly around the bedroom, hiding the cottage’s shag carpet. On a nightstand, next to the bed, I spotted a small lighter and a pack of cigarettes. A small closet door stood on the other side of the room.

I opened the door to find clothes. No skeletons, no long hidden clue about Dan’s life, just clothes. I don’t know what I expected. I sighed and started cleaning up the magazines scattered on the floor of the bedroom. I picked up dozens of news stories, sports profiles, and the occasional dirty magazine and placed them in a single pile. I even, ironically, found a copy of Good Housekeeping among the mess.

Then I stopped. What was I doing, picking up the garbage of a dead man that I hated? Why was I at this cottage again? Then, I noticed it. An old leather-bound scrapbook, sitting among the magazines. Anxiously, I picked it up. After opening the blinds on one of the windows to let in some light, I sat down on the bed and opened the scrapbook.

On the first page, I found an old black and white photograph of a man and woman on their wedding day. Written in cursive beneath the photo were the words Our Special Day. On the second, I found a picture of the woman from the first photo holding a newborn baby. Underneath the picture of the baby, the words Jacob Daniel Knox, 7.5 pounds, 20 inches, were written. The third page was interesting. In the same handwriting as the previous photos were the words Jackson Mark Knox, 7 pounds, 18 inches. No photo of sat above these words.

I frantically flipped through the scrapbook, searching for a photo of Jackson. All I found was page after page of missing pictures. Then, halfway through the book, the pages became blank. Unfinished by whoever created the first half of the book.

I cracked open a beer and took a sip. It tasted horrible, like warm vegetable oil. I sat the can down next to the cigarettes on the nightstand and went back to cleaning the room. The sound of someone knocking on the window caught my attention. I turned and saw a middle-aged man with a shovel waving from the backyard. I left the cottage, scrapbook and six-pack in hand.

Jake hugged me as soon as I got outside. “It’s been too long!” he said.

“Jesus, Jake, you’re crushing me,” I said.

Jake laughed. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said. “How long have you been gone?”

“Not nearly long enough.”

Jake’s face turned solemn. “I didn’t see you at the funeral,” he said.

“I didn’t go. What’s with the shovel?”

“Dad wanted to be buried next to Mom.”

The words sent shivers down my spine. I’d already guessed that Jake was here to bury Dan, but hearing him say it made the finality of the situation real. For reasons I don’t fully understand, I helped him dig a pit in the family plot near the cottage. After a few hours of back-breaking work, Jake led me to his truck.

A plain pine box, large enough to fit a grown man, sat in the back of Jake’s old pickup. “Is that...Dan?” I asked

“Yeah,” he replied. “He didn’t want us to waste money hiring someone to do this. Surprised?”

“No. Dan doing something so macabre just to save money is completely in character.”

“Do you want me to open the box before we bury him?

“No.”

Jake and I carried the box to the pit and carefully lowered it down into the dirt. By sunset, the deed was done. Jake cracked open one of the warm beer cans and took a swig. “How can you drink that?” I asked.

“Stop being a snob,” he replied.

“Seriously! Dan, as a rule, only bought the cheapest possible beer. Hell, I don’t even know if it’s still good. It’s been sitting in that fridge for years.”

“Beer becomes better with age!”

“You’re thinking of wine.”

Jake laughed and took another swig. “How’s the family?” I asked.

“They’re doing good. Me and Laura dropped Katie off at college last week,” he said.

“I’m happy for you.”

“How about you?”

“I’m doing good. Alex and I are looking at new houses right now, trying to find something closer to the water.”

“Why don’t you just move in here? Dan left you the place.”

Neither of us said anything for a few minutes after that. Finally, I worked up the courage to ask the question that had been burning in the back of my mind. “Why did he leave me the cottage?” I asked.

“Hell if I know,” he replied. “Have you read the letter yet?”

“No.”

“Maybe you’ll find your answers there.”

Jake got up and walked back to his truck. “It’s getting late,” he said. “Laura’ll worry if I’m not home soon.”

I ran up to him and handed him the scrapbook. “You should have this,” I said.

Jake smiled and drove off into the night. I walked back to the bedroom of the cottage and lit one of Dan’s cigarettes. Although I don’t share his taste in alcohol, he managed to get me hooked on his favorite brand of cigarettes when I was a kid. I know it’s bad for me, but whenever I get stressed, this urge to smoke builds within my heart. I pray I don’t end up like Dan, slowly wasting away as my lungs rot from my addiction.

I pulled a white envelope from my breast pocket and did the thing that I had been dreading for so long: I read the letter Dan sent me.

Dear Jackson, it said, The doctors say I don’t have much time left. I’ve tried calling you, writing you, even asked Jacob to drag your ass back here so I can say this in person. Every time, you’ve ignored me. What kind of son refuses to see his dying father?

I shouldn’t be surprised, of course. This isn’t the first time you’ve turned your back on family. I haven’t seen you since Jan died. Even then, you didn’t have the balls to talk to me. You just left after we buried her, just like you did when you were a kid. I hope you like it, out there in that degenerate paradise you call home. I hope it’s worth saying goodbye to your own flesh and blood. That’s what killed Jan, you know. The stress of her baby running away from home before he could even drink. I remember her staying up at night, crying with worry. I hope you’re happy.

I’ll be seeing Jan soon. It’s actually a good thing, the fact that I’m dying. This life of mine, the endless monotony of a nursing home, it’s enough to drive a man mad. Bastards don’t even let me drink anymore. Of course, you probably think that’s a good thing. You used to bitch about my drinking on a daily basis. You even got the idea that I’m some kinda monster because I like the good stuff in Jan’s head.

Jake tells me you’re a writer. You know, I always wanted to be a writer. Guess you have more of me in you than either of us are willing to admit. No one ever wanted to publish any of my things, of course. Guess I didn’t fit their quotas like you do.

I’ve instructed my lawyer to give you this letter when I finally die. I hope you’ll get over your damn pride and actually read this letter. Maybe you’ll just throw it in the trash like every other letter I’ve written you. But, if you’re reading this, it means I’ve finally got a chance to talk to you. It means I can now tell you the words I’ve been waiting thirty years to say: you are, and always have been, a disappointment.

Children are supposed to honor their parents. You, with your endless debauchery, have dragged the name of my family through the mud. I lived in a small town, Jack. People talk. For years, I’ve had to deal with the insults they threw at me because of you. I’ve even had to deal with people theorizing that I’m like you. The thought of it makes me want to vomit. You disgust me, Jackson. Words cannot express how little love I have for you. I truly, from the bottom of my heart, hope you rot in hell.

Love, Dan

Every word of the letter burned. Every painful memory of life in the cottage rushed back like water spilling off a waterfall. I grabbed the half-empty beer can from the nightstand and poured it over the bed. I dropped my cigarette and watched as flames engulfed the bed. I tossed the letter into the fire and left the cottage for the final time.

It was small, that cottage on the hill. It burned beautifully.

[myheadcanonacademia]

The Gang talks about puberty.

Words: 2134

Class 1-A was in the middle of their English course, most of the students desperately trying to translate their assigned passages before it was their turn to speak. Compared to most of their other academic courses the language ranked highest. While general studies and hero support pushed proficiency in mathematics and the sciences, it had become apparent early on that the quadratic equation wasn’t going to help fight villains any time soon. The main focus of academics in the hero course was on language, and along with that the arts, theater, and writing.

Every hero course student had to be proficient in hero vocabulary and conversational English before they graduated, besides that they had to have a working vocabulary in at least three other chosen languages. Long nights were spent when the students could be heard talking to themselves in German, French, Arabic, Spanish, Mandarin and even Russian. They drilled phrases like ‘How can I help you?’ and ‘Are you in danger?’ as well as any possible replies that they could get. At lunches the week before an exam other students would raise eyebrows at the exhausted looking class 1-A as they rambled back and forth to each other in broken German asking ‘Have you seen this child?’ over and over again. The theory behind the study of the arts and writing was that heroes would have a higher attention to detail and be able to have the put what they saw into description. The theater classes assisted in their public speaking confidence.

Kaminari Denki was currently sight reading his chosen passage, a fairly complex paragraph from an American novel. Several students lay back in their seats, having already tried and failed to accurately translate their homework. Kaminari was without a doubt the star of the language class. While students like Iida Tenya and Yaoyarozu Momo excelled in all subjects, watching Kaminari flawlessly translate passages from Harry Potter on the spot was akin to watching a meteor shower. Beautiful and yet somehow terrifying.

After Kaminari finished his passage, Bakugou Katsuki stood up. His eyes and hands were on his open book of English readings. He had picked the hardest one he could find, a section out of a story by Edgar Allan Poe, and now he was regretting it. Slowly and firmly he tried to wrap his tongue around the odd fitting Anglo-Saxon language. He stumbled a few times and did as he had been taught to do when something frustrated him, take a breath, count to three and try again. It worked in an academic setting at least. But he stumbled over his words, glaring at Kaminari who was looking at him with a smile. Him and the rest of Bakugous group had been slaving away over their languages for days with little improvement.

And then it happened. It being, one moment Bakugous voice was an even raspy growl and the next it jumped up to a decibel that only dogs could hear and then falling to a deep bass. Bakugou froze mid sentence, counted to three, cleared his throat, and turned bright red. Even so he slowly began again, his eyes wondering over the faces of his class, most of them hadn’t even been paying attention, no one seemed to bothers by it at all. Bakugou raced through the rest of the passage and dropped back into his seet. He hid behind his arms crossed over his chest.

The second time it happened it was several days after the first incident. Bakugou had completely forgotten about having his voice break in the middle of class. But puberty never let you forget her for long. He was in the middle of a sparring match with Kirishima Eijirou, his best friend. Kirishima was acting as a punching bag as Bakugou viciously slammed his bloody knuckles onto his friends stony body.

“Why won’t you just give in-“ Bakugou was cut off mid threat by his voice rocketing up from its normal tenor to a soprano.

“Dude.” Kirishima laughed, he faltered in his defense and Bakugous right hook caught his chin.

Later that same day Bakugou and his little gang of losers had crowded the kitchen are of the common space. The only one who was actually using it for its intended purpose was Bakugou. He slaved away over the kitchen stove prepping meals for him and Kirishima. They were both trying to bulk up. Kirishima was trying to help by cutting the vegetables but he was so slow and kept crying over the onions that Bakugou had demoted him to ‘guardian of the Tupperware’. The defeated redheaded boy stood holding the plastic storage containers, trying to be interested in Bakugou as he explained why he never boiled broccoli, but Kaminari was being way too interesting. He had discovered a website that had a bunch of English profanities and they were all trying to memorize them but their pronunciation was so off most of what they said was nonsense but with the amount of laughter it was apparent that it didn’t really matter.

“Kirishima pay attention, I’m only making enough food for both of us this one time.” That’s what he said two weeks ago as well.

“Dude relax.” Kirishima laughed, glancing at the broccoli beef Bakugou had created. He waved the Tupperware around. “I’m ready when you are!”  

Kaminari poked Bakugou on the shoulder. “You should be listening to these they are so funny!”

“Why the fuck would I be interested cursing in English. No one will know what im saying.” Bakugou rolled his eyes. Sometimes his friends got excited about silly things. Silly harmless things that just made them happy, it was Bakugous job to shit on those things as much as possible.

“Come on man, try this one.” Kaminari raised his phone. “Your mother was a hamster and your father smells of elder berries!”

“Your… Fa… Father was a hamster…” and Bakugous voice cracked again, no one made a move. Bakugou reached behind him and grasped one of the (only)  clean saucepans and in his rage launched it out of the kitchen and towards the sitting area. The handle wedged into the wall where it would remain for generations to come. He small gang of friends laughed at Bakugous expense.

“Dude, your voice  has been cracking all day!”

“I’ve noticed, Hair For Brains. “ Bakugou returned to his cooking, his face growing ever redder. He was furiously mixxing garlic into the beef sauce. “it’s fucking annoying.”

“it’s puberty, don’t sweat it dude.” Kaminari leaned back against the cool counter top, his finger scrolled through his phone but his attention was on Bakugou. “We are all suffering.”

“I don’t see you turning into a soprano in English class.” Mina laughed. “Fucking Sarah Brightman over here nearly made Iidas glasses crack.”

Bakugou growled at the pink haired girl. “it’s not a big deal, my voice breaks too. Remember in Hero training? I was trying to warn you that Sero was behind you and all that came out was nails on a chalk board.” Kirishima comforted Bakugou with a pat on the arm from the Tupperware.

“I’m moist like all of the time.” Mina happily chirped. The boys looked to her visibly shaken. “oh you wish! I mean I’m sweaty all of the time. Even now, you should feel my back.”

“I’d rather not.” Sero cringed.

“That’s gross.” Bakugou looked over his friend group carefully, reconsidering his choices.

“I’m allowed to be just as nasty as you Palm Sweat.” Mina used her foot to give Bakugous rear a quick kick. She pushed herself up onto the counter top and pulled a bag of chips out of MInetas shelf.

“I have a semi like 80% of the day.” Kaminari admitted way to comfortably. “And not for any reason. Two days ago I opened a pudding cup, boom, raging boner.” He laughed, everyone’s eyes drifted from his face to his crotch and back.

“Okay all of you are-“

“I’m pretty sure im going to be hairy as fuck.” Sero continued with their little confessional. Bakugou accepted that his had stopped being about his cracking voice and was now an all included ‘my body is doing fucked up shit’ power hour.

“Dude I saw you have chest hair and everything.” Kirishima laughed. He pulled out his shirt collar and looked down at his smooth skin. “Lucky.”

“You want chest hair?” Bakugou winced. “Why?”

“it’s manly as fuck.” Kirishima added.

“Let me see!” Mina was lifting Seros shirt, and he was letting her. He had a small patch of hair growing out of the middle of his chest between his pectorals, and one hell of a happy trail. Mina plucked a hair off from around his nipples and laughed. Sero cried out and frowned.

“Dude there aren’t that many!” he stole the hair back from Mina.

Bakugou rolled his eyes and nudged Kirishima to hold out the tupperware. He stated sectioning out the large quantity of food. Kaminari eyes him closely. Bakugou sneered as Kaminari adjusted his pants silently.

“Oh my god! Ew!” Mina jumped back up on the counter top.

“I’m sorry okay!” Kaminari wiggled around in his jeans. “It won’t stop! I don’t know what to do!”

“Just go jack off in your room.” Kirishima suggested, not even teasing, just trying to give friendly advice.

“I do… all of the time! I can’t jack it anymore! MY. DICK. HURTS.”

“All the time?” Mina now seemed kind of interested. Kaminari inched away from her.

“It’s that or I great the world dick first for the rest of my life.” Kaminari was wildly waving his arms around as he spoke, but it was going nothing towards distracting everyones eyes from his obvious boner.

“Maybe you could use it as a Taser?” Sero clowned a pelvic thrust. “ZAP ZAP!”

Kaminari seemed to be considering it. Mina burst into laughter.

“You won’t even need your charge director. You could have been using your dick this entire time.” The pink girl was screaming.

“Just imagine Kaminari running around, dick flying through the air, shooting lightning!” Sero had to support himself on the tile next to Mina.

“Cockbolt!” Kirishima slammed shut the freezer after him and Bakugou had packed way their meals.

“Stuncum.” Bakugou muttered a little quieter.

“Cum-inari Dick-I” Mina was getting way too loud.

“Fuck all of you guys.” Kaminari was choaking on his laughter. Sero was hardly even breathing. Kaminari turned to Kirishima as he wiped tears from his eyes. “And what about you? You as rock hard as I am?”

“Me?” Kirishima looked a little shocked that they were even curious about what ever damage puberty was wrecking on his body. “I don’t know… kind of all the normal stuff I guess?”

“Normal stuff?” Kaminari wanted details. Bakugou couldn’t deny he didn’t also what to know what the apparent faultless puberty god had to say. Kirishima seemed to be going through a short list in his head, trying to pick out the most interesting.

“Sorry, I don’t really know…” he scratched at his head. Kaminari wasn’t accepting that.

“Come on! Something? Is one of your feet bigger than the other? Do you smell bad? Acne in odd places? Come on! have your balls even dropped?”

“Of course they have! Im just saying that I cant think of anything funny to say. Nothing can really beat your fucking boner!” Kirishimas face was starting to match his hair.

“I bet Jirou would like to beat it.” Mina muttered under her breath.

“Really?” Kaminari perked up. “How… how do you know? Did she say-…”

“Kirishima cries a lot.” Bakugou announced coldly. All eyes were on him.

“I do?” Kirishima questioned. He didn’t think he cried a lot.

“You’re an emotional wreck.” Bakugou was pulling out more rice and meat, he wasn’t going to let them know but he was making everyone a late lunch. He just felt like cooking. “you cry at almost every movie we watch, even the ones that aren’t sad. Yesterday you dropped you pen in class and when you couldn’t reach it I saw fucking tears in your eyes.”

“Kirishima you big soft pussy. “ Mina spoke bluntly.

Kirishima looked to be in a state of shock. He guessed that maybe he had been crying a bit more than normal, that silly things like missing shoes and low batterys were pulling tears from him in the gallons. But he was an emotional guy so it made sense. Kaminari pulled Kirishimas head to his chest “my soft boi.”

“Get off!” Kirishima struggled against Kaminaris grip. Sero put his hand on the back of his head and pushed it down.

“NOW SUCK THAT DICK!” Kirishima escaped just in time, the group sans Bakugou laughing. Bakugou started putting the food he had just taken out way. Fuck these people, they could starve.

[laurabk-writes]

SOULDIERS: Chapter One

(PG-13 for some swear words, if that matters to you)

A thumbs up had popped onto the screen of his smartwatch almost half an hour ago. The GPS didn’t show them as being quite that far away, but traffic was usually congested during that hour on a Monday. Zach tried to distract himself from worry by making sure everything was ready for their return home. The large shaker coffee table was set with plates and forks, with each teen’s favorite drink set at their place. A folded towel sat ready at the center for when the curry could be taken off the stove. Their fleece blankets had been gathered and piled on the sofa along with all the loose decorative pillows of the room. But he had the feeling that something was missing.

He stepped back into the kitchen and glanced around, then he remembered: the pain relievers were still sitting on the countertop beneath their usual cabinet. He brought them into the living room and set them on the edge of the table, now seeing that everything was as it should be. Except for the missing people to occupy it.

Samae was the first to stumble in. The front door swung wearily open as she nearly tripped over the threshold. Zach finally began to feel relieved, until he saw the whole girl. It was difficult to tell where the girl’s long black hair ended and the rest of her began. She was covered head to toe in deep black soot and carried the sharp odor of burning hair. But once inside, she held up her hand to stop him from speaking.

“I am fine,” she said in a halfhearted tone. “I just need a shower.” She dropped her backpack by the sofa, kicked off her shoes, and lumbered toward the stairs.

Shortly after, a shorter young woman burst in - Micha. “I said I’m sorry!” she called after Samae. When Samae didn’t respond but progressed up the stairs, Micha huffed. “Fine.” She turned to Zach, only just noticing him standing there. “She’s fine, it’s fine, we’re all fine. Just some accidental friendly fire is all.” She paused to sniff the air. “You made curry?”

Zach simply nodded.

“Ugh! Damnit, I can’t stay, I have an early morning tomorrow.”

Zach held up a finger to signal for her to wait as he disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a tupperware full of curry for her.

“Okay,” she said, “it’s a bit scary that you know me this well already, but not as scary as me wanting to tell you how much I love you right now.” She yanked him closer to plant a quick, rough kiss on his forehead, then left with tupperware in hand.

He hardly had time to recover before Gabriele came through the door. She stopped on the doormat to take off her shoes and gently set them aside on the shoe rack. She seemed calm, aside from one of her low-pulled, rose-blonde pigtails hanging loose, missing its hair tie.

“Hi, Zach,” she said with her usual polite smile. “Sorry it took a little while. Micha’s tire had a leak and she had to replace it.”

“That’s alright,” Zach said. He wanted to request that next time they would text him about that sort of thing, but he knew he had to give them a certain amount of trust. The thumbs up meant that everyone was alive and well and on their way home, and he needed to let that be. “Go ahead and sit down. You all can tell me about it after we eat.”

Gabriele nodded and took her seat at the coffee table where the bottled peach iced tea was placed. She picked up the remote, turned on the TV, and tried to remember where they had left off the previous night with their favorite show.

Zach knew that Ana and Cass were coming next because he could hear them from down the driveway. They continued arguing as they stepped inside and took off their shoes.

“No, no, that’s not how it works!” Cass insisted as he dropped a shoe onto the shoe rack. The shoe lost its balance and tumbled to the floor. “It’s not enough that a pig would have wings, it would need some big-ass wings to carry its weight. Birds can fly because their bones are hollow and it makes them light enough to fly, and they probably don’t have as much fat in their body mass index as pigs.”

“Hollow bones?” Ana asked, bewildered as her shoe went flying and hit the side of the sofa. Her backpack bounded after it. “What?! Wouldn’t their organs crush them or something?”

“Bones are still made of harder stuff than organs. It’s like packing pretzels into a bag of marshmallows.”

“I call bullshit.”

“Fine, I’m googling it!” he declared as he took out his phone.

They barely paused their discussion as they went to take their seats at the coffee table. Five down, one to go. And the last one wasn’t far behind. Rapha shut and locked the door behind her after coming inside. She sighed heavily as though catching her breath and gave Zach an eyeroll with a crooked grin.

“Hey, Zach,” she said as she took a moment to lean against the door, holding a paper bag of groceries. “How’s it goin’?”

“Pretty good,” he replied, more casually than he felt at the moment. “Where was it this time?”

“Midtown, near the public pool. But it’s okay.” She put her shoes on the rack then pat him on the shoulder. “Target subdued, no one hurt. Just a bent fence and a flat tire.”

“Gabriele told me about the tire.”

She cocked her head with her brows knit. “I texted you. Didn’t I text you?” She looked down at her smartwatch, tapped it a couple times, then whined: “Fuuuuuck. I missed that other button again. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay now,” he assured her, “just sit down.”

Zach took the bag of groceries to the kitchen for her, while Rapha took her seat at the coffee table, just in time for Gabriele to turn on the next episode of their latest favorite Australian sitcom called Razorwire. Zach turned off the stove and brought out the large pot of curry, placing it on the center of the table. Everyone took turns doling out their own portion, remaining mostly quiet as they ate and watched. Zach took his own portion and sat behind them on the sofa with a can of cola. He wasn’t as big a fan of the show as the others were, but at least it was better than that British one with the talking partridge. That was two and a half seasons of pure torture.

As usual, Ana fell straight asleep as soon as she finished eating, leaning back against the sofa, her head of billowing brown curls adding padding to the cushion. But everyone else was available to talk. Zach unplugged his laptop computer from its perch on the side table, set it on his lap, and booted it up.

“It was midtown,” he mumbled as he began typing, “near the public pool. That’s Ingolfsson Memorial Aquatic Center. Right in the middle of a neighborhood of two-story ranch houses with a dog in every front yard.”

Gabriele raised her hand slightly. “I think I saw a cat in the window of one of them.”

“That’s nice to hear,” he remarked as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “So. How’d it go down?”

Though only just graduated from high school and not that much older than any of them, Zach had always commanded an authority that none of them felt free to question - not even Micha, who was the oldest of them all, nearing twenty-one years old. So when he saw them silently exchanging glances, he could tell they were debating just how much to fudge the truth, and who would be best at doing that. They eventually shrugged and joined in on looking to one person, deferring to Rapha to speak. Now he knew they would try for the truth. She thoughtfully combed her fingers through her auburn hair to loose a knot before speaking.

“Micha made the call. She was swimming at the pool after work. There was this guy, she thought maybe in his mid-thirties, who came through the building and just stood at the side of the pool looking around. He was in a full business suit. Not exactly subtle, really.” She shrugged to her compatriots. “Micha said that it seemed like he was looking right past her, like at the girl swimming behind her, and that’s when he activated his magic.”

“Did anyone notice him vanishing?” Zach asked, typing all the while he was listening.

“Oh. Micha didn’t say. And we forgot to ask.”

“Okay. What then?”

Rapha hesitated as she tried to remember what else Micha had said. “Micha activated her magic right away. She said it should have looked like she just ducked into the water, not vanished. She built up a wave and sent it right at him. He got knocked against the building. A couple people on the lounge chairs nearby got splashed, but they were alright. Then she beeped for all of us.”

“About what time was that again?”

“4:45.”

“Right right. Cass was home, Ana was still at school for machinists club, I had sent Rapha to the store...Gabriele, where were you at the time?”

Gabriele blinked. “Um. I was in the backyard.”

Zach winced. “That’s right, you were reading on the swing, I’m sorry.”

Cass nudged Gabriele, saying, “Well, she just crept around the back like a ninja, after all. Didn’t even say ‘hi’.”

“I was just - ” Gabriele began to protest.

“Don’t...” Cass said with a smirk. “I was just messin’ with you.”

Zach looked up from his laptop for a moment, his eyes straight ahead as he mentally made sure he had then accounted for each member of the group. “And Micah at the pool. Oh, Samae. Where was she?”

Rapha answered, “She was on her way to the pool. The same pool.”

“Got it. Go on.”

Rapha went on to describe supernatural events in a very matter-of-fact manner. Each member of the group arrived to the pool as Micah fended off the man in the suit by violently manipulating the water. All the surrounding patrons managed to flee the scene without serious injury, including the girl that the man originally had meant to attack. At one point, Gabriele was knocked into the water and struggled to keep afloat in the choppy waves, but her pixies were able to pull her out of danger. The battle wasn’t easy, but the team was fairly well in sync. Up to the incident.

“So when did Micah catch Samae on fire?” Zach asked. He asked as though he were a teacher asking a college student what the sum of two and two is. But the group hesitated as though calculating the square root of pi.

Rapha spoke up: “Well, we were having a hard time figuring out what the enemy souldier’s power was. See, this one time that a wave was going at him, he held out his hand, and it froze in place. So Micah thought that he probably had some kind of frost magic. So she threw a fireball at it to see if it would melt, but it bounced off and flew over toward Samae. She dodged out of the way before it hit her full-force, but um...she still got singed a bit.”

Zach didn’t look up from his laptop as he continued to type. “So maybe we don’t test things by throwing fire at them from now on.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll call her in the morning.”

As if on cue, Samae came down the stairs in pajamas, her hair combed but still a little damp. She scooped herself a portion of curry without hesitation, glad to see there was still some steam rising from it. There was a large scorch mark on her right wrist.

“Are you okay?” Gabriele asked.

“A couple burns,” Samae answered between bites. “It took almost half a bottle of shampoo to get all the ashes out.”

Zach nodded. “Just be sure to sit with Rapha before you go to bed.”

Samae nodded but continued eating. “Did you put pears in this?”

“Apples,” Zach corrected.

She smiled a little as she took another bite.

Everyone else sat silent as Zach finished typing something. Then he looked up at them. “Were you able to figure out his magic?”

“We thought maybe,” Cass said, “some kind of kinetic energy thing?”

“So he moved things as well as froze them?”

After thinking a moment and silently conferring with his comrades, he stuttered, “I...I don’t think...so? Just froze things?”

“Just one thing at a time?”

Gabriele piped up, “There was one time where he froze Rapha, then it looked like he tried to freeze Cass, but it didn’t really work.”

Zach nodded pensively. “What happened to him, the enemy souldier? Rapha said you guys subdued him?”

“We did. But then he disappeared.”

“Like disappeared from you, or just became invisible like you all do with humans?”

“Disappeared from us.”

Zach stared at his laptop screen a moment, tapping his fingers against his tightly drawn mouth. “Okay. Thank you. You can go back to your show now.”

Cass switched the TV back on as everyone turned their attention away from Zach. Ana suddenly jolted up, awake. She looked around at very much the same scene she fell asleep to, but checking the time confirmed that she probably missed the debriefing. But no one said anything as she pulled her purple fleece blanket off the sofa and around her shoulders to watch the show with them.

Eventually, they collected their dishes and loaded the dishwasher. Then the girls climbed upstairs to their bedrooms to sleep. Cass went to his bedroom on the first floor, closing his door more loudly than he intended. Rapha remained behind, intently watching Zach as he continued work on his laptop.

She spoke up: “You’re getting some sleep at some point too, right?”

“Yes, I will get some sleep,” he said softly as he took off his glasses to massage his eyes and the bridge of his nose.

She rose to her feet with a soft smile. “Thank you for the most excellent curry.”

“You are most welcome. Goodnight.”

Rapha accepted that as a cue to leave him be. So she bid goodnight and went upstairs. Zach put his laptop back on the side table and plugged it in. He stretched himself out across the sofa, shifting until he was comfortable. He intended to do some more thinking, but could only manage one half-formed thought before drifting off to sleep.