#today's menu has only pain and suffering apparently

[dungeons-and-dragon-age]

me: i hate this quiz it bring me pain also me: lets do this quiz for all my da ocs

couldn't help myself and did the "why do you hurt" quiz for everyone else too because it's not like I've had enough hurt for one day

below the cut so it isn't as spammy lol

Neira: you were meant to

it was built into you. designed for you. there is pain here because it was meant for you, and how fucking dare they. your suffering is not their right. you hurt because they gave you ways to suffer and carved it into you when you could not breathe, because the intention always was that they could weaponize your pain against you. it is Yours. You are Yours. How fucking dare they. they cannot make you theirs; do not let them try.

(the "because the intention always was that they could weaponize your pain against you" part fits painfully well with how the Circle indoctrinated her with the fear of herself and her magic, which something she never really gets rid of even after getting more comfortable with and accepting of herself and her nature (so the "how fucking dare they" is sadly not an attitude she ever arrives at))

June: this isn't enough for you

the words creep into your head in the dead of night one night and you cannot get rid of them. 'this isn't enough for me anymore'. you thought this was enough for you at some point, or maybe you hoped that it would be, but it isn't, and it hurts. you need to change something, or die trying. this - life like this - does not make life worth living. there is a lump in your throat that demands attention every waking moment of the day. there is pain in your body like a cavernous maw you cannot keep balance over. this is not what you wanted. you need to change. you can't stay here. it is not a character flaw you want more.

(fits really well for her kinda snapping and deciding to go feral when she was still living with her family when she was done trying and failing so hard to live up to all the "you have to" and "you need to" and only being met with disapproval and disappointment, and like her entire rebellious attitude that comes from that. Does take her a while to learn that she doesn't have to prove to everyone that she's allowed to be herself by defying them...)

Kalagna: because you cannot hold freedom

the sky is only air. the ocean is only water. the only freedom you will ever have is breathing, drawing this air again & again & again & again. You have to exhale, and it costs you something - you have to quench your thirst and it comes back again - there is nothing solid in being free, it is not a status to be achieved but an action to do. Free is an active status, and you worry you'll somehow forget. there are people who would control you. there are orders you could obey. you keep coming back to take this next breath, your own part of the forever-freedom of the sky, but sometimes you think to hold your breath. it is deceptively peaceful underwater. you don't know if you would notice it if you started drowning.

(wow okay this one sounds a lot more profound than I think fits Kala lmao but in it's essence it's suits her incredibly well, because she basically believes that there is no "real freedom", but not in a nihilistic or depressing sort of way? More in a "it's just the way it is, you decide what you make of it" kind of way, if that makes sense? It's a mindset that's carried her through her life in Dusttown and that made her really strong I think, but also the "free is an active status and you worry you'll somehow forget" fits her to a t)

Lilian: this isn't enough for you

the words creep into your head in the dead of night one night and you cannot get rid of them. 'this isn't enough for me anymore'. you thought this was enough for you at some point, or maybe you hoped that it would be, but it isn't, and it hurts. you need to change something, or die trying. this - life like this - does not make life worth living. there is a lump in your throat that demands attention every waking moment of the day. there is pain in your body like a cavernous maw you cannot keep balance over. this is not what you wanted. you need to change. you can't stay here. it is not a character flaw you want more.

(got this one for her as well but it fits her too. After a few years in Kirkwall passively witnessing the oppression and after a lifetime of hiding away she is sick of suppressing part of her identity and silently lurking in the shadows, instead deciding to openly oppose and challenge the system -- loudly, boldly and fully ready to face any and all consequences head on)

Arari: you're choking on how much you have to try

you have tried. you have carried the weight of the world on your shoulders and accepted more responsibilities than you have ever wanted, even intended to gain. it isn't crushing - you are strong enough to hold it - but you are choking. you don't know what to do with it. you don't know where it goes, how to move this weight everyone knows you can hold onto, and do you even want to get rid of it? Never. You would not give this to - force this on - anyone else. but you /can't/. but you are choking on it. your body will hold it up even when you lose all the air in your lungs, and your footing, and your courage. it does not mind choking you. it seems almost designed to do so. if you weren't wrung out you wouldn't be doing this thing properly.

(oof this is another one that fits painfully well :') the "it isn't crushing - you are strong enough to hold it - but you are choking"? 100% him. He doesn't even fully realise just how much everything strains him but it most certainly does. And he is definitely the "I'd rather it's me than anybody else" type, so, yea.....)

[wendystales]

Memories - lrh (Chapter Four)

Memories (also on Wattpad)

Chapter Three ※※※※※ Chapter Five

I absorbed and enjoyed the silence that was hovering around my house. I grabbed a glass of juice and sat down on the couch on the balcony. My mom left early for work, and Leah even tried to take me along for a photo shoot she was going to do in Venice. But, honestly, I'm not in the mood for dragging plaster casts around under the sun.

Not to mention that it is good to have moments alone to get my head straight. I know that in a little while it will be even harder to escape from these outings, I mean, I know I have to get back to my routine, but as long as I can avoid it, I will.

I put the juice on the table and pick up my diary. Unlike yesterday, I open it to the first page, like a book, and start reading. I go through a few pages about my feelings, about what I planned about my future, about my parents' divorce.

"I know it was inevitable. Anyone could tell how distant they were, I just didn't want it to be like that, that she suffered the same way I did. And I didn't want to feel that anger from him. But deep down, I know it's for the best.".

A few more pages telling about the scout who had seen me at the mall, the first photo shoot, the first runway show for a small clothing brand. Then arriving at the day I met Ashton.

"That one nobody expected/imagined/sought for. Ashton Irwin is my yoga partner!!! Mm-hmm, mm-hmm. Oh my gosh, I never would have imagined that. I was dying of nervousness about being the new student, then he comes and offers to be my duo and oh gosh, he's amazing. Super fun and nice. AND HE CALLED ME UP FOR COFFEE ON SUNDAY.

" Ashton and I sat at a table on the sidewalk. Under the table, I snapped my fingers in nervousness as I read the menu.

- Do you already know what you are going to order? - he asks. I pout and nod my head in denial.

- All I know is that I don't want espresso. - I comment.

- Can I recommend one? I think you'll like it, it's whipped with cream and chocolate, very sweet. - He points to the menu after I accept his suggestion.

- It amazes me how good you are at coffee. - I joke, making him laugh.

- I like coffee. I once took a tour of a coffee farm in the countryside right here in California.

Coffee becomes our first topic. Because he knows and understands coffee, Ashton convinces me to do a tasting at a promising coffee shop in Brentwood the next morning. It was not the kind of program I am used to doing, but everything is different now, my life has changed and so have my types of programs.

- You are lost being my friend, I will call you all morning for breakfast together. - Ashton comments as we drive along the sidewalks of Los Angeles.

My body shakes when it hears the word "friend". I still wasn't sure if I could consider Ash a friend, but now, I'm happy to know that I can and that he considers me too. "

The memory warms and cheers me up, giving me more desire to read and remember.

I don't realize how much I was smiling until my cheeks start to hurt. After that day, his name becomes very frequent, until it joins Leah's.

"I don't know how to explain this girl. She came in so confident and nose to nose, I was sure she would be insufferable, then she opened her mouth and all I could think was 'where has she been all my life? ' And I don't want to get my hopes up or be a pain in the ass, but she's also a model and she talked about me going to her father's agency and if that works out? it's one of the biggest agencies in the world, I'm going to take off. God, if this is your will...".

I laugh at the following narrations that already involve Ashton, Noah and Leah. I can't remember what is written, but my imagination gives me a warm, happy feeling in my body. And if the reality has been as fun and nice as what I imagined, then it was very good.

I feel my body shiver and a chill take over my stomach when I see Luke's name for the first time. I cut the pace of my reading, preparing myself for what was to come. I reach for another glass of juice, buying time and even courage to read the rest.

"I had already noticed him looking at me, I just didn't want to believe he was looking at me, and it was perfect like that, until Ashton brought him in. It's one thing to know who Luke is, it's another to talk to him. In the end it wasn't so bad. I guess. I just stared for the first hour at anything but him, but I guess he must have missed it. Now I'm in the dilemma of if he liked me, I mean, we spent four hours talking and nothing, no kiss, no phone exchange. NOTHING."

I laugh at myself. I can perfectly see myself being embarrassed by him and not being able to look him in the eye.. If I could go back in time, I would tell this Marnie that Luke really liked her, even though I only had a basis in videos and pictures.

I pick up my cell phone and open insta, going to the date that marked my diary. 07/06/18. It was Ashton's birthday party. I flip to the side and see a picture taken in Hawaii, with the caption "The one where we got lost". I turn the page and find that trip.

"I know I am committing one of the biggest follies of my life and deep down, I don't even know why. That's a lie, I do, but that's not the point. In fact, it is, but that's not what I'm going to talk about. Again, it is. The point is: I can't believe that at the last minute I agreed to go on a trip to Hawaii with a bunch of people I barely know. Except Ash, Noah and Leah. And P.S. Monday is his birthday. It only gets better.”

Apparently things between Luke and me went pretty quickly. I read a few more pages seeing that on his birthday, we had our first kiss and from then on everything happened too fast and messy.

I write about many fights and reconciliations. Both he and I, didn't want anything serious, but both he and I, couldn't stay away from each other and there was my reason.

"There is a good big part of all this blocking that I believe is because of what happened and because of me trying to pretend it didn't happen. Dr. Prescott says that if I don't put it out there and don't talk about it, it will consume me. 'Talking about our fears, worries and problems makes them smaller and easier to defeat.'

Besides my parents, no one else knows about that day."

I run my eyes quickly down the page, seeing that that one was about Stephen's cheating.

I close the journal in fear. I don't know what is coming, and I don't know if I have the courage to read it. It is one thing to hear about it from others, from their view and opinion, even if it is not on purpose. It's another to hear about it from my view, from what I've been through.

I have no doubt that there are things in these next pages that maybe even my parents don't know. Things and feelings that I have kept solely and exclusively to myself and I don't know if I am ready to face this, again.

I put down the diary and go in search of something else. Luckily for me, my guardian angel, aka Leah, calls me.

“Are you busy? I thought we could have lunch together. What do you think?” she bombards me, not letting me say hello.

“Hi to you too. No, I'm not busy, just reading my diary.” I run my hand over the cover, keeping in the back of my mind what awaits me. “ I'll take lunch.”

Before Leah can answer, I hear a muffled argument on the phone and wait for the fight to end.

“Sorry, but Noah is asking if he can come along.” she asks, without patience.

“Of course he can.” I hold my laughter, imagining the two of them fighting on the other end of the line.

“Okay, in a few minutes we'll be there. Kisses.”

I say goodbye to her and decide not to read the diary again. The doctor himself told me not to force myself into anything. I set the table and wait for the two of them to arrive.

After forty minutes, the doorbell rings. I make way for my friend and analyze the tall, muscular man behind her. Unlike my memory, the Noah of today has his hair well shaved and brunette, like his sister's. His green eyes fill with tears when he sees me crack a smile, and like his twin, he doesn't wait for permission and hugs me.

“Don't ever do that again, young lady. What a shitty world this would be without you!” he squeezes me before showering me with kisses, all over my face.

Leah turns and pulls him away from me, making me laugh. I follow them both into the kitchen and look at the bags they brought, excited.

“We made sure to stop by The Palm and pick up your favorite dish.” I didn't even know that I had a favorite dish at The Palm. But when Leah opens a box and I feel my mouth water when I see that noodle with shrimp, I realize how little I know myself.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?” I ask softly, with a smile.

We start lunch and today my attention was on Noah, after all he was the new thing. I listen to him tell about the day we met, when he began to advise my career with his sister, and how things have been going since the accident.

“You don't have to give any interviews if you don't want to.” he assures me once again.

I still don't know how to deal with this "public figure" business, but deep down I feel a need to give a "satisfaction" to everyone who knows me. Noah has already sent some notes about my condition, but I know that I will have to appear on some channel in the future.

We changed the subject and started talking about my amnesia. Noah was not very happy that my first memory was his hair fiasco. I commented that I was reading my diary and asked about some events.

“Are we really lost in Hawaii?” they both started to laugh and agree.

“That day I wanted to hit Mark. I was getting very angry that he could not accept that he was reading the wrong map. Not to mention the car dying and us pushing," Noah comments.

“Mark was never good with maps. He says himself that he was a lousy Boy Scout.” Leah says before drying her third glass of water.

“Who is Mark?” I question.

“Mark is an ex-lover of mine. At the time we were chatting and he had the house in Hawaii. One thing led to another and in the end he went along.” Leah ends with a frown.

“And why did we let him drive then?” I ask, full of curiosity. They look at me as if I know the answer. Or, as if I should, but I just raise my eyebrows, saying nothing.

“Because it's Mark.” Noah shrugs. “He likes to be in control of everything.”

“The one who was definitely happy with us there was that guy who owns the coconut stand.” Leah says.

So there it is, the little wooden stand, with a pile of coconuts in front of it. A short man, probably about 50 years old, laughing at our misfortune while selling the fruit to us. Images begin to form in my mind.

" “- Look there.” Kyleen and I focus on the little man laughing as he takes the money from Michael's hand. “He sure is very happy with us standing here.” Leah says.

“Of course he is. We already bought twelve coconuts from him. Bad little man.” I make a face.

“We're not lost. It's just a shortcut.” we cut off eye contact with the stand and focus on Mark arguing with Noah and Ashton.

Leah looked at her lover in total disbelief at what she had gotten herself into. If regret could kill. The next moment Mark stomps his foot on the floor, like a child with a temper tantrum. At that moment, Calum looks at me with wide eyes.

I look away so that he doesn't see me laughing. Kiki, who was behind me, slaps me to stop, but this only makes me want to laugh more. I hide my face in her arm and in the end, my laughter gets out of hand. Both she and Calum start laughing with me, causing the boys to look at us curiously.

It takes no more than five minutes for Mike to join in the laughter with us and soon everyone else was laughing except Mark. Even the little bad man was laughing. It was the worst thing about us being lost, but that's what was happening and it couldn't be anything but comical, even though it was sad too. ”

“Of course he was happy. He sold about fifteen coconuts for us.” I don't even try to control my smile. Once again I remembered, and this is more than great.

The twin couple in front of me crack a big smile too, and soon they are clapping their hands and stamping their feet on the floor, making noise. I clap my hands with them in celebration.

“She is coming back.” Noah comes around the table, hugging me from behind and again showering me with kisses.

I was never one to have many friends. Usually it was just Bethany and Stephen, and a girl in my music class, but I don't know if I can consider her that, after all, we only talked during class and it was all very unrelated.

The point is that I have always envied those people who managed to have a large number of friends, and friends really, not just colleagues. Friends who call you for everything, who are always by your side, who enjoy your company, and who consider you family.

In this moment, with just Noah and Leah, I can see that I finally have these friends that I have wanted so much and without having to pretend to be something that I am not, without having to buy their attention, as I felt I needed it with Bethany. And if I'm happy like this with just the two of them, I can't wait to see the others.

“So, you said you were reading your diary, did you remember anything else?” Leah asks excitedly.

All the happiness and euphoria that had surrounded my body disappears. The bloody page with the bloody day comes back into my mind. They both notice my mood drop.

“I remembered a day when I went to have coffee with Ash, but…” I play with the edge of my cup, trying not to get too much into that energy. “I found a day where I tell about what happened.” I look at them, who are serious and attentive.

“Do you want us to read it with you?” Leah holds my hand across the table, gently patting it.

I shake my head positively and point to the notebook on the coffee table in the living room. I watch her return with the notebook and hand it to me. I open it to the marked page and stare at my handwriting again.

"I haven't had the courage to tell either Ashton, Leah, or much less Luke. I can't tell if I'm ashamed of it or just afraid of it happening again. The problem is that it's really starting to get to me, to the point where I get irritated when I see Luke and Leah talking and it shouldn't be like that. So I need to get it all out so that I can start over.

It was our anniversary. I snuck out of my work to see Stephen at his house. I wanted to deliver his gift soon. Two streets before his house I ran into Noelle, his mother, and told her I wanted to surprise him, so she told me to get the key under the third vase and go in.

Maybe it would have been better just to ring the doorbell and not have to see it. I was very quiet so as not to be discovered, and in the end, I was the one who discovered something."

My racing heart hurts from beating so hard. I can't keep my breathing normal, holding it at various times. I feel like it's a suspense book where no one wants to find out what's behind the door of the abandoned house, but needs to, in order to continue the story.

I notice in some letters and words the ink smudged and I know it was from my tears and it only hurts me more.

"There is no word to describe the disgust, pain, and anger of seeing him and her in bed naked. My until then boyfriend, and my until then best friend.

And what only made it worse was that she didn't even try to explain herself, didn't show an ounce of regret, even if it was a pretense. Nothing. While he tried to say it was nothing like that, Bethany still says it had been going on for a long time."

I close the journal angrily and throw it away, stopping on the other side of the long table. The lump in my throat gets bigger, but I don't want to cry, not for this and not again.

Deep down, I have always had a flea behind my ear with the two of them. The countless rides Stephen insisted on giving her. The way she always motivated me to fight with him, for reasons I thought were small and insignificant. But it was my first serious relationship, what did I know about dating, right? Bethany, on the other hand, had dated seriously twice.

It had always been there, I just didn't want to see it.

“I always suspected it and never, never wanted to believe it. After all, he was my boyfriend and she was my best friend. They wouldn't be able to.” I let out a humorless laugh.

The twins look at me fearfully, as if I were a mother scolding them.

“But you know what the worst part is? I believed him. He looked me in the face and said that nothing happened. That Luke was to blame for our breakup! How stupid of me!” I shout, picking up the diary and throwing it further away, as if it would hurt Stephen.

“Wait, what?” Leah speaks loudly.

I look at her startled and realize what I said. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I didn't want anyone to know about the meeting.

“You met with Stephen? When?” she turns the table around, coming closer. I swallow dryly.

“Yesterday morning," I begin softly, but it was enough for Leah to cover her eyes with her hands and snort. Noah laid his head on his arms, sighing as well. “I was confused and needed to hear and see him.” I start to defend myself.

“After everything your mother told you about him?” Leah asks.

“And you think I would believe her? Would you? With amnesia on account?” I retort. Leah takes a deep breath and denies it with her head, giving me reason.

“But you could have told, or asked, I don't know.” Noah ponders.

“Nobody would have let me, I know nobody likes him and rightly so.” I give in.

“That explains a lot.” Leah comments softly, but loud enough for me to hear.

“Explains what?” I ask confused.

She looks at Noah, who nods, giving her the green light. Like me, she swallows dryly before she begins.

“Explain why Luke is so grouchy and weird. Not wanting to come see you.” he answers, poking at the seam of the chair.

NO! No! No! No! No! Please, no. He can't have seen.

“You have to take me to his house.” I ask, heading for the hall.

“What?” the two shout following me.

“I need to talk to him. Now!” I shout the last part, putting on a jacket with some difficulty.

“But why?” Noah helps me.

“Because I think he saw something that wasn't supposed to happen and got it wrong.” I open the door, going to call the elevator.

“Oh, no!” they understand and soon follow me.

Things between Luke and me may be messed up, but the last thing I want him to think is that I cheated on him.

[bakutae]

bnha headcanons #7

today's menu:

a splash of todoroki shouto, two teaspoons of bakugou katsuki and three shots of kaminari denki

scenario:

having a s/o who is chubby

author's note:

thank you for the request! i hope you enjoy this :D

todoroki shouto

lowkey adores your curves and will worship it

he loves cuddling with you and being the big spoon regardless because he loves how your curves just fit so perfectly in his hands

he adores being tangled up in the sheets with you, as his arms are securely around you, holding you tight with so much affection

he loves kissing your soft cheeks so much, and loves how squishy they are

so he'll squish your cheeks, caress them and all the while he'll be looking at you like you're his entire world

'i'm holding my entire world in my hands right now.'

tells you you're beautiful every single day without fail

negative thoughts begone

he really feels upset when you complain about your weight and tell him that you wished you were skinnier

he'll be really disappointed in himself for not being able to convince you otherwise and he'll be more clingy than usual

'y/n, you're perfect, you know that right? i love you so much, all of you.'

istg he'll make you feel so confident because he's such a great and supportive boyfriend and hypes you up all the timee

will lowkey make you take photos with him a lot, just to gush about how cute you look and how compatible the two of you are

doesn't hesitate to say things that will turn your cheeks pink, even in bright daylight, with people surrounding the both of you

he proudly flaunts you in the streets and it's sometimes really embarrassing and you try to dissipate his proud aura around him

'i'm just showing off what's mine, and she happens to be the most beautiful person on earth.'

you'll be too embarrassed by his words to even tell him off

he's so lovey dovey with you that when he goes out with his friends, he constantly gets teased by them

but he'll just show thema picture of the two of you together and say 'isn't y/n the cutest?'

his friends will take that as a cue to agree cause he adores you so much that he can talk about you for hours, and no one except shouto wanted that

all in all, shouto would admire you so much and would really openly show you how much he loves you through his encouragements and actions and we all love that (´ω`)

bakugou katsuki

bakugou lives for your thighs period.

he loves to touch them, he loves to sleep in between them, he loves to tuck himself between your legs and wrap them around him

he feels really safe and secure when he's there and can lowkey stay there for weeks and he wouldn't even leave still

whats hunger who's that don't know her

protective boyfie alert!!

anyone who even dares to talk bad about you will suffer

once y'all were out on a quick date outside and were strolling around, a kid who was with his mother walked past you

when y'all walked past them though, you heard the boy yell 'mummy! why is the lady bigger than her friend?'

blasty boy will instantly scowl at the boy, but the little kid isn't fazed at all, or he just didn't notice, but he carried on spewing nonsense

'mummy, look at her! why aren't you looking? if my friend was that big i'd be really scared, why isn't her friend scared?'

ok but his mother would lowkey be embarrassed for him and step in front of the kid protectively because of bakugou's presense

you weren't going to lie, you were really hurt, and the fact that it was a kid saying it made it worse since kids are more honest than adults

bakugou would be all up in the boy's face, sneering at him and daring him to repeat what he said, which would cause the boy to cry really loudly and cause a huge commotion

you'd be really embarrassed cause you don't really want to draw attention to yourself so you try to pull bakugou away from the scene

when he sees the panic in your eyes, he immediately stops and rushes to your side

he knows how insecure you feel when people stare at you so he'll glare at the mother-and-son duo one more time before leaving, with his arms around your shoulder

when y'all get far enough, the two of you stop walking and rest on a public bench and he'll give you a kiss before laying on your lap

your fingers instantly move to his hair, and you brush through his hair as his gaze is on you, watching your every move

'thank you for that' you tell him

yes, it wasn't the best reaction to have but you really appreciated him for trying his best to defend you

'you're beautiful, okay? inside and out. no shitty kid is going to tell you otherwise yeah?' he smiles gently at you as he reaches up to ruffle your hair

he grins at you from below as the two of you basked in the afternoon glow with him on your thighs

'i love you'

kaminari denki

your personal masseur

sore at your thighs? denki will fix that

sore at your back? denki will fix that

feeling sore and you suffer silently? denki will fix that; and will also apply a bit more pressure while gently chiding you to tell him when anything aches anywhere

he's really sympathetic and will listen to you when you whine about how your breasts hurt when you climb down the stairs fairly quickly and complaining about how your sports bra was in the wash and therefore nothing to push them down

he finds the whole talk really hilarious ngl but because of how you genuinely were in pain and you sounded so passionate he couldn't help but release a small chuckle

music to your ears oh my gosh

cue the pout on your face and denki will be soft again

he can't really do anything about your chest problem but he'll just listen and gently massage you, which would cause you to yelp mid-sentence from the pain

denki would lowkey be stunned for a moment everytime you whine, and he'll apologise for hurting you and you have to really get it into his head that massages that don't hurt are doing nothing to your flesh

after the massages he'll always get you to sit on his lap to lock the two of you in a permanent cuddle position for a couple of hours

you'll resist, and tell him how you're afraid of stopping blood circulation to his legs and how he'll not get any blood flow and how his legs will start to ache because of your weight

'nonsense, i want my girl to sit on my lap and she will sit on my lap. i won't accept that excuse and i better not hear that ever again, thank you come again.'

i feel like he'll also lowkey buy you all sorts of things to lessen your discomfort

he starts throwing all sorts of things that he deems useful into his shopping basket and ends up spending quite the fortune

more sports bras? check. more face masks? check. face roller? check. more potato chips? check.

he even buys you those weird products that only japan has that will apparently lessen your troubles because he thought they were cool

he brings everything home and lines it up for you to use and throws the receipt away before you find it

he knew you'd lecture him on spending so much and buying so many useless stuff but he really wanted to make you feel more comfortable

awww baby 🥺🥺

needless to say, y'all have a great time unwrapping everything from its packaging and trying it out on you

the next day, your friends tease you about the weird glow on your skin, and no one believes that it's not post-coitus natural glow but just a full on spa night you had at home 😭😭

oh golly i forgot my taglist so here we go! @sushij1ma @shiggywiggy and @sugacookiies I MISS SPELLING BNHA-HOMEROOM SM 😭

[random-blfan]

Alsar 65: I'm Holding my Stomach

"Then, is this design okay?" (It’s a bit more like “Can you do this design?” )

"Oh, leave it to me! I'd like to change some things, so please drop by sometime."

The carpenter who was introduced by Ally-san seems to be a designer too, and when he told us what he wanted, he took notes and asked questions such as "What do you want to do here?" And "How many children's rooms do you want?" In regard to the arrangement of the rooms.

Thanks to that, I had lunch on the way, but today the rough floor plan was decided and we were also able to finish the draft up to the last detail.

"Then please!"

"Thank you"

"We’ll be back in a couple of days." 

The carpenter sent us off and we left the store.

Now Fer-san is holding my left hand and Chris-san and Sig-san walk behind us while talking.

I’ve been thinking, when did it become a rule to always hold hands with at least one person?

They normally hold my hand and I don’t say anything and there’s no opportunity to refuse, well it's not like I hate it so it’s fine but…

"I didn't expect that it would take this long. It's already evening, so let's go home,okay?"

"Yes, but are children’s rooms that necessary ...?"

As I walked home, I looked up and listened to Fer-san, who said with a smiling face.

Children's rooms, 5 rooms ...

Me bearing that many children! ?? Is what I thought, though I was told that wasn’t a problem.

In the first place, it feels strange to talk about children even though we really haven’t talked about it in depth...

"Well, even if you don't give birth to that many,a storeroom would be useful, right? If you give birth to five children, we’ll be able to raise them, so don't worry?"

"Hmm ... that's right ... and the servant's room ..."

I was told it would be a good idea for there to be an extra room, and it was incorporated into the floor plan.

"Ren-chan isn't going to quit being an adventurer, right? Then you have to have a room for the person who will take care of the kids while you're away? It's essential for an adventurer with all your companions, so even if it’s small it’s necessary "

"Well, I understand that but ... I didn’t grow up in that kind of environment, so it feels strange ..."

I’ve been through a lot to become an adventurer, so I want to continue after getting married, I was told that if I couldn’t look after my child then there should be a room for a babysitter. I feel torn.

When I heard that, I thought I should quit being an adventurer for a while, but as a support magician who can support three people, I should be able to reduce the risk of injury and death by doing subjugations together, so I want to continue. So I agreed to make a servant room.

Malik would think! I don't feel like saying that …( I really didn’t get this one not even when my friend explained to me, but Ren is worried about Malik’s opinion on the matter it seems)

"Oh, I will move to that house two days after tomorrow, but I have some furniture, so I wonder if I can leave it as it is? I still don't know if it will fit the new house even if I buy some."

"Ah, but why not just renew the bed in the master bedroom? I think the bed there is too small for us and Ren-kun."

"When you say that, it's certainly impossible for four people. Okay, let’s go to the furniture store tomorrow?"

"It should be as big as possible, right?"

When the three of them talk, it becomes a conversation above me and it is difficult to get into it, so I usually just listen to it.

If there is no particular problem, I won’t try to interrupt them

Besides, they talk to me properly, and even now, Fer-san's is still holding my hand, so I don't feel like I'm out of the group, and it's fun to see the three of them having fun.

"Oh, I can see Malik's house. Today I have to give Ren-kun back to Malik."

"Is Malik already at home?"

"Well ... today his shift should end by evening, so I think it's about time for him to come back."

Yeah, I’m sure.

I have a table with his shifts because the shift changes every month, but I can't confirm it because I keep it at home.

"Let's say hello. He let you stay yesterday ..."

"Really? You think it wasn’t a problem letting cute Ren stay with you?" 

"Fugu !?"

"Wow !? Malik-san!? Sig-san is falling! Please let go!"

I think it happened while Sig-san said that, pointing at the house, from behind, a hand extended to Sig-san's solid neck and wrapped around it as if squeezing.

I didn't notice him, but it seems that Malik-san is strangling Sig-san with all his might.

I ask him to let go immediately! 

"Oh, I can't help it if it’s Ren's request. Fine."

"Goho ... haha ​​... Mari ... ku-san ..."

"Sig-san, are you okay !? Doesn’t your neck hurt? If it hurts should I use 「Heal」? "

Malik-san relaxed his grip and released Sig-san with a look that as if he couldn't help it.

I hurriedly approached Sig-san who was coughing violently while kneeling in place.He shook his head so it seems there’s no pain.

"It's okay. I wouldn't be as careless as to hurt him .... Anyway, you guys come in, also there’s something I need to say to Chris, okay?" 

Malik-san, who is quietly angry and looks unpleasantly sullen, says to the three of them, but why does he want to talk to Chris-san?

But ... before that ...!

"Malik-san? Please apologize to Sig-san? It may have been bad to stay without permission, but it's terrible to go for his vulnerable neck from behind, understand?" 

"Ah…"

It was fine because Sig-san has training, but an ordinary person would have been strangled in the blink of an eye,  why did he strangle him anyway!

When I got angry with that in mind, my pout turned into a troubled expression, and I was scratching my head. ( My friend told me that while the “scratching my head” here can literally just be that it’s also used when someone is embarrassed or suffering) 

"If you don't apologize, I won't make lunch for a while!"

"What!? ... I'm sorry."

"No…" (This no is more like “it’s fine...”) 

This is the only way I can express my anger, so when I declared that, Malik-san made a terribly surprised face and immediately apologized.  I reach my hand out to Sig-san who is crouching to help him stand up. (しゃがみ込む = to squat; to crouch down completely  generally with face looking through knees)

It seems he really said  "I look forward to Ren’s bento everyday" before.

"Hmm ... I'm home for now let’s go in ..."

Malik goes into the house while sighing so those three follow suit.

"Well, sit down"

As we enter the living room, we are asked to sit on the rug, so we do so obediently.

"Malik-san, yesterday I suddenly stayed somewhere else, I’m sorry ... were you angry because of that ...?"

"Ah ... well, Ren is an adult too? So it 's fine. The problem is Chris. If you want to contact me, please contact me directly.Because I wasn’t there at that time I was ridiculed as I had to rely on Hugo to pass the message !? " 

"Eh…?"

He isn’t angry because of the overnight stay?

Eh, Chris-san, didn’t you contact him directly! ??

Thinking so, I look at Chris-san who is sitting next to me looking at Malik-san as if nothing happened. 

"Eh ~? Malik wasn't there, but if you got home, wouldn't you be surprised if Ren wasn't there, I thought you would worry, so I asked them to pass on the message ~? Are you angry? "

It doesn't sound like Chris-san's way of speaking ...

Well, if he  wasn't there at that time, it can’t be helped but ... What does he mean by ridicule?

"... Ku. That's right. You're not in the wrong. The problem is Hugo."

"Right?"

"I don't care about perfection ...?  ...? He didn’t deserve to be strangled ..." 

It seems that Malik-san admitted that Chris wasn't in the wrong,  dropping his shoulders.

And poor Sig-san (愁傷様です=しゅうしょう = shuushou, my friend explained to me that this expression is used to when someone dies or the situation is just to pitiful)

"Hmm ... I can make tea. Malik-san hasn't eaten yet, right? I'll make something, so you three eat too and then please go home."

"Oh, yes"

Apparently that was all, so I decided to make dinner after brewing tea.

There should be various ingredients in the refrigerator, so I wonder if I should look inside and decide on the menu.

"Yes. Today is a simple grated pork rice bowl, miso soup, and salad."

"" "Itadakimasu" ""

Everyone seemed to like what I made and ate quickly.

The grated pork bowl is made by dropping daikon radish on top of boiled and sliced meat then adding seasonings such as soy sauce and lemon juice. It's a solid but refreshing taste, so it's perfect for hot summers. When I was in Japan, I used to make it in the summer.

"As expected, Ren's food is delicious .... Oh, that's right. You guys, do you intend to not take quests for a while? "

"It's really delicious, isn't it? I intend to accept something once I've moved to my temporary residence ..." 

Malik-san, who was eating ravenously, says as he remembered.

The three of them said we’d look for a house and wouldn’t take quests for a week.

I wonder… if there’s something good to accept.

However, since I became B rank, it is one rank up and down.

In other words, it seems that you can only receive quests from A rank to C rank,I can't take the F rank Lulu leaf collection quest anymore. 

"That’s good then, some quests arrived that only you can take, 3 solo quests and one for a party, If you can, why don't you take them? "

"We still have a month before we go to the royal capital .... I'll decide after returning to the guild and checking the contents of the quest. Can Ren do the party quest too?" 

"Ah, yes"

Sig-san  answers, mhh but a party quest...

What is it like?

Are solo quests impossible for me

I’ll have to go to the guild and take a look tomorrow...

The three returned to the guild after getting permission to stay when Malik-san isn’t at night.

TN: Poor Sig...

Ahh It's here ＼(￣▽￣)／ I actually finished translating  yesterday at like 5 AM (Because who needs sleep… ) but I was waiting for my friend to reply to my messages and it’s hard because of the time difference.  

The previous translator liked to put food pictures whenever Ren cooked and as a foodie and someone who loves cooking, I really liked that so I decided to do it too!

I hope you liked it, I really like translating and it is fun also I learn so many new things. 

Take care and if you see typos, grammar errors or whatever feel free to tell me, I want to do my best but English isn’t my first language and I’m still learning japanese. 

[i-write-and-therefore-i-am]

One Monstrous Miracle (Part Two)

Ugh! It’s been 3 whole months since I updated this story! This one is a bit long, so maybe it will make up for that? Anywho, in addition to this being a bit of a doozy, it’s kind of a filler chapter, which I hate to do but there ya go. I’m feeling a bit wonky about this part, but make sure to let me know how you feel about it. I hope you enjoy! (P.S.--Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list!)

Previous--Next--First

Pairing: Aziraphale/Human!Reader

Warnings: I don’t see any here!

Word Count: 2076 (!!For WhY?? Why can’t I write this much for my courses??)

It had been a few months since that first meeting, and it had become second nature for you to stop by his bookshop on the way home from work. You were grateful that Aziraphale didn’t actually want to part with any of his precious volumes, or else your poor bank account would definitely suffer. Because the shop was essentially the best sort of library you could imagine, it was incredibly easy to find a book to read. And because Aziraphale was the nicest man you had ever met, he was more than happy to let you find a comfy old chair to park yourself in whilst you read said book. This was how most of your days went recently, and it was, in fact, how this particular day had begun.

The door clicked shut behind you with the pleasant sound of bells that you had grown so fond of. You were in a good mood—you’d gotten a major promotion at work, which meant that although you’d have to work a few more hours, you’d be doing things that you enjoyed and getting paid more for them. Aziraphale had, for some reason unbeknownst to you, planned to cook dinner for the both of you today. You’d objected, not wanting him to go through all of the trouble of having to close his shop early to get dinner ready by the time you got out of work, but he’d persisted.

               “It’s a special occasion, Y/N!”

               “What is?”

               “Being alive, of course!”

You’d known that there was something more, but you ignored it in favor of relishing in the cozy affection that washed over you at how adorable this man could be. He could find wonder in the most trivial thing, which never failed to put a smile on your face. Even recalling moments like that, as you were doing now, could lift your spirits.

You wandered around the shop, browsing the shelves for any new additions. Aziraphale’s shop had quickly become your safe haven—a place that you could go and just relax with a good book and not have to worry about anything else. Soon, you had come to associate that feeling with the man himself. You hadn’t felt this way about anyone in a very long time, and it was refreshing, in an odd way, to feel like a teenager again. This was something new and unexpected, and perhaps it was just what you needed. Your inner monologue was cut off by Aziraphale calling your name from across the room.

“Y/N! You’re here! Just in time, everything is ready.” You turn and smile at him but frowned when you caught sight of the old grandfather clock standing by the sales counter.

“Already? I only got here a few minutes ago,”

“Oh, I wanted it to be ready for when you got here, so I started early—”

“But I got here almost an hour before I normally do! How are you finished already?” A flash of something unidentifiable crossed over his face, but it was quickly replaced with a charming smile.

“I must’ve forgotten to set the clock upstairs and started earlier than I had thought. A happy accident, no?” Again, the doubts in your mind vanished, and you found yourself grinning back at him. Ever the gentleman, he gestured for you to walk up the stairs in front of him. The smells coming from the second floor had drifted down slowly and were weaving themselves around you, making your mouth water in anticipation. When you got to the top of the staircase, Aziraphale darted around you to open the door to his flat.

Despite all the time that you had spent in his building over the past couple of months, you had never ventured up here. You doubted that you would even notice if you had—the flat had the same eccentric-yet-cozy feel to it that the bookshop did, except in the place of books there were hundreds of different knick-knacks. Some looked rather new, and others looked as though they had jumped straight out of a history book.

“This is where I live. Pardon the mess, I haven’t been able to find a good system of storing yet.” He started fiddling with a set of Russian dolls that were sitting on a side table but gave up as quickly as he started and turned back to you. You realized that he was waiting for you to say something.

“I love it. It’s…homey.” You smiled genuinely at him. In some ways, it felt more like home to you than anywhere else, but that was a revelation for another day. After a few seconds of slightly awkward standing, your stomach chose that exact moment to growl. Loudly.

“Where are my manners? You must be starving! Here, let’s get some food in you, alright?” He led you to his dining room, where you were immediately greeted with the most delicious-looking meal of your life.

“You made all of this for me?” You asked incredulously, not believing your eyes. The table in the center of the room was positively groaning under the weight of all the food Aziraphale had cooked. Somehow, every single one of your favorites had made it onto tonight’s menu, making your heart grow warm with the knowledge that Aziraphale listened to and remembered the things you told him. You looked up at his expectant face, feeling silly for getting so emotional over dinner.

“It’s wonderful, Aziraphale. Thank you.”

“Of course, my dear. Anything for you.” He moved to pull out the chair closest to you, indicating that you should sit down. “Shall we?”

Dinner was divine. The food you ate on that day was the best food you had ever, or would ever, eat, period. You insisted that Aziraphale was secretly a world-famous chef, an idea that he quickly shot down— “How on Earth could I be a world-famous chef in secret? Wouldn’t everyone know? It wouldn’t be much of a secret, Y/N.”—but you weren’t too sure. You ate more than your fill, but when Aziraphale suggested that the two of you end the night with a cup of cocoa by the fireplace, you couldn’t refuse.

And so, you found yourself sitting on Aziraphale’s worn tartan sofa, sipping the rich chocolate and staring into the flames. Aziraphale sat beside you, his cup resting nicely on his knee. Together you sat in comfortable silence for quite a while, giving you time to reminisce over the evening and, more importantly, your thoughts about the man who had orchestrated the whole thing.

You knew that you had developed a sort of crush on him, and it had become increasingly apparent in recent weeks. Your heart would pound harder the closer you got to his shop, and the second he would look up from his work and focus his attention on you, you could feel your cheeks start to burn. It was highly unlikely that he hadn’t noticed anything different about the way you acted around him, but you knew he was too kind to say something about it. The trouble was that the friendship you had built with him, the easy companionship that you found in each other, was too precious for you to risk losing it by telling him what you truly felt. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if he only wanted you to be his friend, nothing more? Oh God, what if he was gay? You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, but quickly looked away. Your anxiety was spiking, and you had to do something about it before—

“AZIRAPHALE!!” Both of you jumped, but thankfully most of your cocoa was gone so none of it spilled. Aziraphale was not so lucky, and he cursed as he looked down at his chocolate-covered lap.

“Damn!” You looked around for something to wipe it off with, but you couldn’t find anything. When you refocused on him, your brain short-circuited for a second. Aziraphale’s pants were now completely dry, with no chocolate on them whatsoever. He seemed to have gotten some on his hand though, because he had part of his pointer finger in his mouth, trying to suck the pain away. Loud footsteps were coming from the stairway outside the door of the flat, and you stared at each other in confusion.

The door was kicked off its hinges in the singular most dramatic entrance you could imagine. The strange man at the door seemed to be other worldly, like his very presence upended the balance of the Universe. Space rippled around him, giving one the impression that he was swaying back and forth, almost snakelike. He had the air of someone who was much much older than they appeared, which clashed atrociously with his spiked, modern haircut and his skintight jeans. It hurt your eyes just to look at him, but, like a car wreck on the M-25, you couldn’t look away. Somehow, even though he was wearing glasses the color of a black hole, you could tell that he was ignoring you entirely. You watched as he made his way to stand angrily in front of your friend. Aziraphale opened his mouth, but he was cut off.

“I’ve been calling you for day, you useless blob! I thought something had happened to you, Aziraphale! In case you’ve forgotten, we are in this together. If we fuck up, it will be the actual end of the world. I—who the Heaven is this?” The man turned to peer at you through his sunglasses, frowning as if you were a spot on the sofa, and not a living, breathing person sitting there instead. Suddenly he turned back to Aziraphale, so you could no longer see his face, but his body language changed drastically—he looked dangerous, like an animal ready to pounce. When he spoke his voice was mocking, dripping with derision.

“Really? You mean to tell me that this pathetic waste of space is what has you tied up? Didn’t you learn anything from the last time you tried it on with a mortal? I knew you were dense, Angel, but not stupid—” Aziraphale was up before your brain could process that he had moved at all. He was now standing toe-to-toe with the stranger, which would have looked unimpressive if Aziraphale had not been so obviously full of rage that it practically radiated off of him. The taller man looked down his nose at Aziraphale but said nothing.

“Don’t you ever speak about her in that filthy way again.” Where the tall man’s voice had been unsettling, Aziraphale’s was downright terrifying. You had never heard him sound so threatening, and you’d seen someone try to buy his first edition of Gutenburg’s Bible. It sent shivers down your spine, and your instincts kicked in. You rose from your seat, backing away from the escalating argument in front of you. The two men fought back and forth, and your heart sank further and further into the pit of your stomach. The night had started out so well, you had no idea when things had gone so wrong. You located your purse on the coffee table and picked it up, clutching it to your body.

“I’m going to leave now,” you tried, but to no avail. You cleared your throat, feeling like you were on the brink of tears. “I said, I’m going to leave now!”

That got their attention. Aziraphale’s eyes went wide when he saw you holding your purse, not to mention the way you seemed to be unconsciously cowering away from them. He reached out to you but you stepped back, shaking your head.

“Th-thanks for dinner. I have an early day tomorrow and I should really head home.” You turned to leave. Your hand was on the doorknob when you heard Aziraphale’s voice from behind you.

“Will I see you tomorrow, then?” Your shoulders tensed, and you had to bite your lip against the—completely ridiculous—tears that spring up at the careful hope you could hear. You took a deep breath, and without answering, opened the door and left the little shop.

From the street, you could hear a tremendous noise coming from the second story window, like something quite large and heavy being thrown against the ground. You shuddered because deep down, you didn’t know if the stranger had done it, or if Aziraphale, sweet, loving Aziraphale had. You walked faster.

Tag List:

@chelsdub, @a-hoe-for-vanya, @lordbeezyprinceofhell, @ohfortheloveofchuck

[the-shadows-angel-archived]

It was apparent that she would not be the only one here today, her brown eyes scanning the cemetery as she watched many stand before tombstones of their own, placing flowers and even praying. This day always hurt the most for her, and it would be a day that would continue to hurt her until she too was laid to rest in this very place. She held the small bouquet of roses, lilacs and daisies in her hands, looking down at the different array of flowers. A representation of the family she once had, knowing he would appreciate them.

The location was secluded, walking down the paved road as her gaze looked around. It was a nice sunny day, a low breeze blowing by as she walked. She could feel the pain swelling inside as she walked in complete silence, flashing a smile to those she walked by if they waved, but did her best to avoid eye contact. 3 years it has been since his death, 3 years of reminding herself that she was what caused this to happen. Had she just listened to him...

She looked around the location, and was glad there was no one around. The place was completely empty, not a single person to be seen. She was the only one there, which to her was a blessing. Even though it was natural for one to speak to the dead, to her it felt like one was losing their mind, or seen as crazy. It was the only way she could be happy, to move forward in her life, in her own suffering. 

She walked forward, looking down at the tombstone before her. Her heart swelled, tears pricking the corners of her eyes as she knelt down, placing the bouquet in front of it. A breeze came by, and she couldn’t help but to smile. A sign perhaps that he was there? She would like to think of it like that. Shifting her position to sit down fully, she stared at her hands as she listened to the leaves rustling behind her. Nothing new had happened in her life, for once she did not know what she could say to him right now. 

“...I miss you...” She started, voice low and barely audible. “I know you hear it a million times but...I just can’t help but to say it each time...you were what kept me going...the only one who believed in me and yet....” She sighed softly. “I just feel like I let you down....”

Another moment of silence went by. “The bakery is doing great still...i’ve tried adding some new product to the menu...a lot of people seem to enjoy it, new faces have appeared, so that’s a plus, right?” She gave a halfhearted chuckle, fidgeting with her fingers. “I haven’t...tried talking to Kayle...every time I do she’s busy or doesn’t care....I just gave up at some point....she doesn’t want anything to do with me...”

It hurt to say the words, but it was the truth. She tried, but Kayle? Kayle didn’t bother. She would rather keep from being apart of her life and act like she didn’t exist, which only seemed to create this void within her. Sure she had grown used to being alone, but it got tiring. Was it so hard to have just...someone in her life? Someone to be there for her, to tell her that everything would be ok, that she didn’t have to be alone and suffer anymore? Or was this her curse to forever live with, until the day she would finally have the rest she deserved. 

“I still love you...and I try to get better I do...it’s just hard sometimes...I slip up or get lost in the alcohol...it’s bad I know, and I know you would be scolding me hard right now but...daddy I just don’t know how to cope anymore...everyday feels like my world is just crashing around me, that one day i’m going to break and no one is going to be able to save me, or put me back together. That i’m going to be alone in this for the rest of my life without anyone and I just-” 

Tears streamed down her face, her heart aching with excruciating pain as she soon found it hard to breath right. This was the only time she could let her tears fall, to let the pain overcome her as she let out her anguish. She was lucky there was no one around, glad she could feel this alone without having someone pitying her. She cried her heart out for what felt like hours, having to take her glasses off as she wiped her eyes, sniffling quietly. 

“I just wish I could come home to you again...” She spoke with a hoarse voice, each word cracking as she cleared her throat. “But I know I can’t anymore...and it’s my own fault and there’s nothing I can do...” She knew it was her reasoning, her choice that led to him no longer being in her life. She lost the only family she had left, now she had to learn to cope and continue to live with that knowledge. 

It wasn’t long before she stood to her feet, wiping her eyes clean from the tears as she placed her glasses back upon her face. Her eyes were red, cheeks wet and she felt exhausted, hurt, defeated almost. “I should go...before it gets late. It’ll be awhile before I go home...I promise i’ll go straight home and not to the bar...”

She kissed the tip of her fingers before placing them upon the tombstone, smiling as she turned away. The breeze came by a bit harsher, making her wrap her arms around herself as she walked away from the grave sight. 

[misskittydenoire]

Surprise! [Part One]

Title: Surprise! [Part One] Character(s) Mentioned: Tony Stark Pairing: Tony Stark x Offspring!Reader Genre: Fluff Rating: PG (eh, just a little language) Words: 2,432 Author’s Notes: I finally got a request! It’s from my friend NomNom! Thanks for the request, love! NomNom asks: Hiii! I was wondering if i could make a fic request. Can you write one of tony and reader, but reader being his kid that he just found out about? Thanks! Low key wanted the kid to be in college and whatever and is working as a barista and tony constantly trying to pay for everything but the kid keeps shutting him down lol. It’d be funny if she was the barista he always go to and when she found out, it was awkward until she went to the compound to tell him. I wanted to try something new with this request. I actually did my best and placed it in the protagonist’s point of view, that’s one. The second thing I tried to do was keep it gender neutral. This also ended up becoming a two parter because the story turned out longer than I expected! I really hope you guys like it! Summary: It has always been you and your mom. Since you were born, your mom has been there for you, has been your pillar of strength, and later on, has taught you to hold your own. You’ve relied on yourself and your hard work always. However, big news falls onto your lap and a new father comes along with it. A father who’s willing to give you anything in the world. A father who happens to occasionally save it as well. That father just so happens to be Tony Stark.

He stepped out of his silver Audi, fixing his tailored suit as he closed the car door with a small slam. His genuine black leather shoes softly hit the pavement as he entered his favorite establishment. Tony Stark survived on coffee. If it were possible, he would have a permanent IV attached to him filled with the caffeinated liquid. Instead, he walks through the glass door of a small cafe he frequents, a location that naturally knew his presence by the sound of his feet entering through the door.

“Hello, Mr. Stark! How are you today?” The portly owner greeted him with a wide smile, her cheeks flushed from her work. Her left hand still wiping down the table in front of her, preparing for the busy day ahead. He turned, his signature sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, and smirked. “Hanging in there, Susan. I need my fix again. You know me, can’t work without that magical brown juice that keeps me up and amazing.” She shook her head, accustomed to his remarks. Susan continued on, placing the small advertisement of their new product coming soon in the center of the dark wooden table before she moved on to another project.

A deep sigh escaped you. Another turn around shift that has been slowly draining your energy down to zero. If you take anymore of this shifts, you might as well sleep here. Attempting to balance college and your part time job is becoming too much to bare, however you sluggishly dragged your feet forward. College loans won’t pay for themselves, no matter how smart you are. One week closer. Just one more week closer to graduation and then you can finally collapse. The small red bucket of sanitizer fluid swayed back and forth before you placed it on the faux marble counter, a thin blue fabric floating above the water. Your mind concentrated on the mountain of worries, not paying attention to your surroundings. Your back was to the register, now wiping the same spot between the blenders for the umpteenth time.

“Uh, can I get some service here?” There was a sudden spike in your heartbeat, surprised by the unexpected voice behind you. You turned your heel, quick to smile, and address the first customer of the day when you looked at the cheeky smile plastered on their face. “God! You almost gave me a heart attack, man!” You exhaled heavily, as your hand clutched the middle area above your chest. Tony chuckled, tipping his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose. His brown eyes bright with joviality. “Sorry, kid. Didn’t mean to scare ya.” “Yes, you did.” “You’re right, I did. It’s always fun seeing you jump. It’s my favorite morning entertainment next to annoying the crap outta Happy.” You glared at him, feigning annoyance before breaking into a grin, “Ha ha. What can I get you, Mr. Stark?” “Ugh, don’t call me that. You make me sound old.” “You are old,” You quipped. “… I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that and chalk it up to childlike humor. How old are you again, twelve?” He answered, pushing the sunglasses back up onto the top of his nose. You rolled your eyes playfully, “What can I get you, Tony?”

He shrugged indecisively, and lifted his head to look over the many choices available to him. He pursed his lips as he pondered what to drink. The options were limitless, his deep brown eyes jumping from beverage to beverage.

“Here you go, Tony.” You said, placing the disposable cup with its cardboard sleeve in front of him. Tony looked at the cup, then to you. Back to the cup and back to you for the second time. You smirked, crossing your arms over your chest proudly. You shrugged nonchalantly before your shoulders dropped down again. Stark was about to speak when you interrupted him, a smug expression on your face. “You always look at the menu, taking about two minutes before you give up and ask for the usual: Americano with an extra shot and a questionable shitload of sugar. I’m surprised you don’t have diabetes by now.” “Well, one: I was going to choose something different this time. And two: This is my sugar intake for the day. The rest of the day I stay somewhat healthy. I’m doing great for a 34 year old.” “Aren’t you 48?” “Shut up.” He mumbled before he turned his heel and walked casually out the doors as you laughed at his reaction.

You shook your head, your laughter dying down as soon as you found yourself surrounded by a swarm of hipsters ready with their orders of organic soymilk, non-fat, chai lattes. Your chest underneath the dirty green apron expanded, quickly letting out an aggravated groan and widened a false grin. “Here we go…” You said to yourself.

The miniature Captain America shield hit against your keys as you stepped foot into the apartment. It fell back into your right jacket pocket, placing the article of clothing on the hook adjacent to the entrance. Your body screamed for release from the aches and pains it suffered standing for eight hours on tiled floor at work. While your brain pleaded for relief after five more hours of listening to lectures about the history of engineering. Your day was yet to be done, however. Piles of readings that needed to be completed for the following class and essays that still were in need to be outlined. Your professors have conspired to torture you until you’re in cap and gown. Juggling both work and school hasn’t been an easy road but you were determined to endure it till the end.

“Hi honey.” A soft voice greeted you.

It was your mother. She sat nervously on the couch you’ve been inhabiting for the past six months. She smiled briefly before her nerves set back into her small face. With open arms, she welcomed you back home once you realized that several pieces of papers written ‘I.O.U’ was no longer satisfactory for your roommates or landlord. You were her only child, of course. She wasn’t going to let you live in the streets.

“Mom?” You asked, confused by the soft frown on her face. “Sweetie? We need to talk,” She patted the cushion next to her, then placed her hand back on her lap.

You stared at her weary face. The wrinkles around her eyes were more apparent than usual. Whatever was plaguing her, clearly was taking a toll on her. You felt concerned, your feet sped towards her without losing eye contact. Your hands took hers, “Are you okay? What’s the matter? Are you sick? Are you–” “Sweetie, I’m fine. Breathe. You look like you’re gonna pass out.” She chuckled. You let out a sigh of relief, “With you and Mr. Stark, I’m gonna get grey hairs before I even turn 25.” “You’ve met Tony Stark?” She asked, surprised. You nodded, “Yeah, I thought I mentioned him to you before. He stops by the cafe often.” “I guess this makes it a little easier than…” “Makes what easier?” “Well…” She began.

“…So. You’re saying that my dad is Tony freaking Stark?!” You shouted, incredulously. You stood up, the blood rushing to your head in a flash which caused you to sit back down. It was your mother’s turn to nod. “Does he know?” Your fingers rubbed your temples, groaning from the rapid equations in your brain, attempting to wrap this situation around it.

She was still silent. She shook her head, worried that she has angered you. She couldn’t blame you. She has withheld this information for quite some time. “Why? Why have you kept this from me for so long?” You asked, exasperated. The secret was the least of your worries. It was the fact that your own flesh and blood omitted the truth. She’s not only the woman who gave birth to you but she was your best friend. Regardless of the fights they’ve caused, you’ve always told her the truth. This is different from, “oh, your fish is just sleeping,” or “eating your spinach is gonna make you strong like Popeye.” You knew the ins and outs of how you came to be but the origin was always vague. You see why now. “To be honest, I don’t know. I suppose because I thought it was for the best. It felt like it didn’t matter. We had each other, and we weren’t missing anything so it wasn’t like I needed him. Besides, at the time, he was a playboy. He had so notches on his bedpost, they were splinters. He wasn’t going to recognize who I was or even believe me. It was going to be more a fiasco and I didn’t want that in our lives.” She explained, tears welled in her coffee colored eyes. “Besides, it’s not the greatest feeling in the world to tell your only child they are the product of a one night stand.”

“Mom, I don’t care if you’ve slept with thousands of men. What bothers me is you’ve kept this from me when I’ve always been honest with you.” “Okay, don’t use my favorite musical against me… And it wasn’t thousands of men.” She grumbled. You gingerly wiped the pending tears before they fell as a smile surfaced on both of your faces. “… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” You shook your head, “It’s okay, mom. It’s nothing therapy and vodka won’t fix.” She lightly smacked your arm as she sighed in relief. Her thin frame stood up, as if lightened by the confession of her past. She walked towards the kitchen, today’s dinner on the top of her tongue until she forgot a fire question she herself had. “…..Are you going to tell Mr. Stark who you are?”

Your eyes stared at the entrance of the compound. This man has never been really subtle, huh? Just a big ol’ A slapped onto the building. Through the glass paned doors, you could see the hustling and bustling of the agents and staff while you contemplated even going forward with this idea. You weren’t even sure he’d be here. However, you knew this matter wasn’t something to be spoken about at the cafe and it wasn’t something that you can say casually while you handed him his coffee. 

“Here’s your usual, Mr, Stark. Oh, by the way, I’m your illegitimate child you had from a one night stand you probably have no recollection of.” You muttered, feigning a grin as you replayed the impossible scenario you had in your head. Your right s/c hand clutched the piece of paper with the address of the compound, crumbling it as if it would will your feet to finally move. It didn’t. The roar of an engine drew closer, and you whipped your head towards the direction. Your e/c eyes widened as the man in question came into your line of vision. How the hell are you gonna explain this? Would he even believe you?

Stark noticed a figure as he got to the compound, and quickly knew who it was. What he didn’t understand is why you were there in the first place. “Y/N? Doing deliveries now or is this some special perk for yours truly?” He quipped. However, his tone shifted when you fully turned to him, your face holding a nervous look in your eyes. “Hey, are you okay? Did something happened? Are you sick? Do you need-” Well, nice to know that the 21 questions panic mode comes from him, you thought to yourself, as you held up your hands to pause his interrogation. “Hey Tony. Yes, I’m okay. Yes, something did happen but nothing that required stitches. No, I’m not sick,” You answered in a monotone before you moved on to why you were really there. “Actually, there is something I need to discuss with you. It’s something really delicate that I knew I couldn’t explain to you at my job. Can we talk somewhere private?” “Yes sure, kid.” Tony escorted you into the building, his arm directing you to the elevators. 

You took quiet deep breaths as you entered his office. The large room was twice as big as your living room and the furniture’s upscale appearance was far from any one you could afford. Your arms stuck close to your form, afraid that if you even as so touched the air around it, it would collapse. You weren’t even sure you should sit down when Tony offered you a seat because you were afraid you’d wrinkle the cushion. You only decided to accept it since Tony wouldn’t have stopped staring intently until you did. He sat on the opposite side on his work desk, his broad back leaning against his chair, “So sport, what did you wanna talk about? Must be something serious if you decided to come all this way from the city.” You began to twiddle your thumbs, “Well… I honestly don’t know where to begin here. This is a position I never thought I’d be in.” A short exhale escaped your mouth, your hands (though slightly clammy) gripped the arms of the chair as you decided to just come out with it, “I’m your kid. I’m not asking for money or any like that. I just found out a couple of days ago and I thought you should know too. You know, just in case you’d ever need a blood transfusion or something. Not that I want that to happen or anything. Just, you know… so you know.” Unfortunately, the execution was a little too quick for Tony to catch. The sentences were woven together that it didn’t make any sense. Tony blinked, “…Sorry, what?” “You’re… my dad.” The man behind the iron mask sat in front of you, frozen. And stayed frozen for about five minutes. “Mr. Stark. Are you still breathing? Listen, I know this comes as quite a shock and I don’t even know if you believe me. I’m willing to take a blood test, anything—” In an instant, he lifted his hand. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., can you verify this?” On it, sir. “Ow!” You released your left hand from the vice grip you had on the chair when you get a prick on your index finger. Within seconds, the AI returned. What Y/N is correct, sir. You are their biological father. You sat there, uncertain what to do next. Unintentionally, you nervously smiled, “…Mazel Tov?” Well, this could’ve gone a whole lot worse…

[castawxayaway]

afraid to admit

requested by an anon earlier this evening, kind of got my motivation back (hence why this is the second piece of the day.) no idea how long it’ll last, but feedback is appreciated. oh, and I know it might not be accurate, I am not a medical student. 

collection of writing

also this is about a car crash so please read with caution!

Everything that night occurred in an instant. No one had time to change what happened, even if we wished the events had happened in a different order. If I hadn’t come out of the restaurant first and walked ahead, giggling with him after celebrating my graduation maybe it’d be a different story. Perhaps if he caught up with me then someone else could be lying still here. What if that driver hadn’t ruined a families life by drinking away his sorrows before attempting to pick up his children? 

The events that lead me to lie lifelessly to this hospital room could have all been avoided, but sometimes things don’t work out that way. All I hear is the monotone beeping of my heart monitor, I can smell the antibacterial sprays and gels that have embedded themselves in my nostrils along with the over fragrant flowers that multiply by each passing day. But out of everything here, the one person I can’t hear, I haven’t heard since being emitted is him. 

All I know is I am asleep, comatose. Yet, I can hear everything. I’ve only ever seen such a thing on TV and now I damn my past self for changing the channel, maybe they had some solution for this and how to force myself awake. It’s not an If I stay situation, I am stable from the accident but the Doctors claim it’s a waiting game until I wake up. I’m trapped, unable to move or let anyone know. I’m stuck with myself, my own thoughts which is more painful than the accident itself. 

The routine since being ‘awake’ is being checked various times by different people each day. I can feel monitors being checked, my temperature being taken along with checks that tire me mentally. My family visit as often as they can, they share stories in hope of me waking up. Yesterday my Dad promised a holiday of my choice, Kyle came in and told me he’d take me to any gig I wish for. The others come in, but he can’t. Apparently, it hurts him too much, though on the surface he left the accident unscathed, emotionally it damaged him deeply knowing he couldn’t save me. 

Will sits with me for an hour every few days, he keeps me updated. He likes to tell me about the news, no matter how much it bores me I enjoy his company. Today he discussed his current state, he gets as far as entering the hospital before breaking down each time. He never gets as far as asking how I am by Nurses or speaking to anyone else. The thought of him blaming himself makes my heart sink, the damages I suffer are nothing compared to the pain I feel for him thinking he is guilty. “The guy who did this is to blame. Did anyone tell you what happened to him?” Will asks, knowing he won’t get a response. 

We all know what happened to the driver. The issues he caused and resolved with that accident. He broke both my legs, knocked me unconscious and risked me having brain damage. Furthermore, he crashed into another car, a Father and his two children, both under the age of five. The driver himself, who was called Robert King and was an abusive husband. He died on arrival. No one will miss him. No one cared to know he died. 

“I think he is finding it easier each day,” Kyle starts, my next visit for the day. They’re all told that visitors and voices will encourage me to wake up. Though they’re unsure if I can hear anything they are all trying their hardest, no matter how stupid it may seem. “this morning he got out of bed and went for a walk. He played some piano too.” If I were awake I’d smile at the thought of him making progress. But I’m stuck and apparently, I look pained as I lie bruised and permanently scarred. 

“Do you think she’ll wake up soon?” Another voice of concern, Charlie. I rarely hear him anymore, he tells me he’s been busy prepping for his own tour. He hopes I’ll be awake to see him, and knows I’ll be front row cheering him on. 

A loud disheartened sigh echoes through the room, interrupting the monitors beeping for less than a second. “I don’t know mate. The doctors don’t seem to know either.” All becomes silent. No one speaks up. Usually, this is when I’d interject with a joke, lighten the mood. It’s marginally hard to do such a thing when I am the only one who can hear my voice, I have one-sided conversations with everyone who walks in. “Do you think she can hear us?” 

“If she can then she’s being bloody rude not waking up.” Charlie jokes and Kyle laughs for a moment, something I’ve missed hearing. Everyone who comes in here is down, depressed or longing for me to wake up. No one comes in here to joke or brighten the spirits that wither with the flowers on my table by the window with a view I cannot see. 

*

It’s been almost a month. At least that is what I hear them say. Outside it has become colder, snow comes and goes, but it never sticks. I can now clearly differentiate the nurses and the doctors’ voices, even by the sigh after they do their checks. I’ve heard them say I have frequent brain activity, that perhaps it’ll be any day now that I wake up. But then again, they’ve been saying that for two weeks. 

“Any news from the other person involved?” One of the Nurses asks another. This is something I’ve learnt they like to do, they gossip frequently in front of me since I cannot punch them for talking about my closest friend in the way they do. 

The other nurse sighs, “Nope. He hasn’t gotten past the front doors. Sometimes he tries to sit outside her room, but he doesn’t manage that. Wonder if something was happening between the two.” My heart monitor speeds up and the two go quiet. “Do you think?”

“No.” The other one quickly shuns her down for a correct suspicion. “Let’s leave her be. She needs her rest.” Internally I scoff, I’m done resting. 

Another doctor visits, no changes since this morning it seems. “You have a visitor. I’ll let them in.” He never normally announces my visitors. Usually, they just come and come as they please. The longest silence is in the night when I hear those who are more emergency based be wheeled on by, sometimes I hear screams whilst everyone is fast asleep. 

My door closes behind him and then I patiently wait since I have no other choice. After what feels like a good ten minutes it slowly opens, the hinges creak suggesting hesitation, but after the first week, no one has been afraid to see me. They’ve all witnessed the scratches that are healing, the scars that are kept in neat stitches and the casting across both my legs that pokes out of my blankets.

Shuffling across the streaked tiles sharpens my ears, a new sound. I can hear heavy breathing, fear. He’s here. Mentally I brush myself down, sit upright and smile at him to ease the nerves. Instead, I lie lifelessly, damaged and with pain written in my expression rather than happiness to know he’s made it. 

A chair scrapes across the floor and is placed to my left, back to the door. “Hi.” He sounds tired, drained. Usually he’d smile brightly, fidget in his seat or come and hug me. But he sits too still, too quiet and is keeping a safe distance as if I’m contagious. 

“No one has told me if you responded to them. Your parents hoped someone else could evoke some response from you as, as they, they,” He struggles to make his words coherent and without a quiver of his lips. Pausing I can hear him taking a deep breath, one he would take before walking on stage. 

I remember his first performance. He was forced to play the piano for a local play, I was the one who encouraged him to do so, face his fears. Now he does that most days of the year, he walks on excited with adrenaline pumped through his body not thinking of the feeling that used to hold him back. 

Yet, hearing him now he sounds like he did before his first performance. He’s too afraid to say or do the wrong thing. He needs me to tell him it’ll be alright. If only I could move my fingers towards his, hold his hand or nod. Anything to ease him into talking, tell me how he feels about this, anything. 

“They’re hoping that I might be able to get you back.” He whispers so quietly doubting himself as he trails off. “I don’t know why. I mean, your parents have been here every day.” He continues to doubt, I can hear him arguing with himself about whether to leave or stay. “About, about that night.” I can hear the defiance trying to push through his voice. 

That night. We planned it months in advance. I knew he wasn’t able to get much time off with their new tour coming up, he was in the studio most days or asleep. He wanted to do something for my graduation, a way to celebrate his best friend achieving her dream. The two of us got ready like old times, we listened to the music of our childhoods and felt out of place in a restaurant that seemed too fancy for the both of us. I felt like I was a child dressing in her Mums posh clothes. He didn’t look like himself. He styled his hair, he wore a suit and kept his glasses in the pocket and pulled them out to read the wine menu. 

“We couldn’t stay there, despite the reservation.” He spoke up. “You suggested we leave, that we go for something more us.” I remember him taking his glasses and putting them back on, he told the waiter to not bother as we got up and left like giddy children. 

That was when I opened the door first, I held it open for him to follow and muttered how cold it was. I watched as he paused under the streetlamps, but I turned around and began to walk ahead. “I was taking my jacket off for you, I didn’t want you to be cold.” The events that I never saw. “That was when I heard the noises, the screeching of tires and beeping.” He pauses, I can hear the pain as he recollects what happens. 

All I saw was the bonnet coming straight towards me. “It went straight for you as if you were the only target. I screamed for you to move, I tried running for you but it happened in an instant. I, I thought you, you,” He can’t say it. 

He thought I was dead. Everyone did. 

“That night I was going, to be honest. All the stress of your dissertation and the drama that occurred with Jack was over. You were happy and I just wanted to tell you how happy that made me.” Mentally I switch on, any other noise is shut down as I listen to every word he says. I can feel his lips moving and his hands fidgeting as he digs his nails into each other. “When we were younger you always helped me face my fears, I helped you try to learn the keyboard and you encouraged me to put myself out there for my passion.” 

I can hear him sniff. He’s upset, he’s struggling to say these words that I should respond to. I should be looking him deep into those blue eyes and help him through. “I disappeared for years, I missed you getting into uni and those hard months. Whenever I called you all you did was push positivity onto me, you deflected it as all you cared about was how I was.” 

Those were my worst months, and I can tell those are what he is currently enduring. All I care about is how he is, I want to be there to hold his hand, but mine remain too lifeless. “You were always so strong, and I feel that I’ve failed you.” No, no. “I wanted to be here for you. I have been trying so hard. Seeing what happened to you broke my heart, seeing you so mangled and hurt broke my heart and I thought for a moment I’d never get to tell you how much I really care for you.” 

His voice takes a more serious tone, I can feel his warm slightly sweaty palm take my hand in his. I feel his cool breath on top of my hand, then a warm sweet kiss before wiping it. “I don’t just care for you, I am in love with you.” My heart beat intensifies as my mind want to shut down. I want to wake up, I want to talk to him I don’t want to doubt him, I don’t want to question this or am I just dreaming? 

“I know you can’t hear me. But I guess I’ll never know how you’d answer.” His hand begins to slip out of mine, but I try my hardest to hold on. My forceful words do nothing to make my hand hold his, not even a flinch. I remain too lifeless for him to even think I know he’s here. “I’ll be back soon, I promise I won’t leave you again. Goodnight.” He mutters as I hear his chair slide across the tiles. 

No, he can’t leave. “Dan! Dan!” My mind screams, but nothing. He says nothing else as I hear the door close and I am left in the deafening silence of my own thoughts. 

[animeniac]

Title: Cup of Joy Fandom: BNHA Pairing: Katsucha; Kacchako; Bakuraka Genre: Fluff Word count: 2k or something Summary: Uraraka works at a coffee shop, and Bakugou can’t stand to watch her fail so hard. A/N: @kacchanwrites , a fellow writer, has been working on a lot of rarepair stuff this week. I'm inspired, and so, I'm gonna throw this kacchako trash into the world wide web for you readers. This was definitely a spur of the moment thing.Time will only tell why I picked this prompt when I know next to nothing about coffee.

That day when Kirishima invited Bakugou to a coffee shop to study, he would have said no. As reckless and wild as people said he was, the straight-A student hardly enjoyed stepping out his daily routine of high school, gym, and food. His classmate and friend knew he could not resist a quality cup of coffee, but he also knew that he often opted for the solitude that store-bought coffee grounds allotted to him. Bakugou hardly enjoyed going to fast food restaurants let alone a coffee shop.

Plus Ultra Cafe happened to be the closest place to their school. That morning, the blond recalled tossing the bag of his favorite Dark Roast blend into the trash can. Even before then, he had to suffer through a watered down version of his favorite drink because his stupid coffee maker couldn't keep up. For whatever reason, Kirishima was trying to sell this place like the funds fed his family.

Bakugou decided to go if for any reason but the fact that he had been caffeine-deprived that entire day. His throbbing headache plagued him.

"So, Sero is gonna meet us a little later," Kirishima explained as he hustled in the direction of the cafe's entrance. He noticed how Bakugou lead the way. Perhaps, he was a bit more eager than he let on.

The smooth, earthy scent certainly lured him. When he pulled the door open, a bell chimed and the tune of new age easy listening music assaulted him as soon as he stepped onto the rug-topped wood floors. He had never been to an establishment of its kind, but he already hated the pretentious atmosphere of Apple laptops and over-the-top pop art on the walls. Earthy colors like bark and rose coordinated the couches and walls in a way that made Bakugou's eyebrow twitch.

He would have turned around and gone to the nearest convenience store instead, but the particularly round face of the sole barista caught his eye. She jumped and turned around like she feared his intimidating glower. How amusing. As he shuffled his feet and gravitated towards the counter, a malicious grin grew on his face. She certainly differed from most of the people in the shop.

While he could not name the contrasting traits, she piqued his interest enough for him to stick around and find out. Kirishima went off to claim their table and Bakugou stalked his prey. Slamming a hand onto the counter, he ordered, "Okay, round face, I want a venti dark roast blend - black." Odd. She failed to jump when he hit the wood surface. Most people would have.

She nodded before glancing over her shoulder to read the chalkboard menu on the wall behind her. "Um," she stammered. "So how many creams and sugars do you want?"

"I said black!"

"Sorry, I'm new," she apologized with a giant smile as she turned back to him. "Is that all?"

Bakugou grumbled and barked, "Even an idiot knows what black coffee means."

Pulling her long, brunette bangs back, she sheepishly smiled as she scratched her temple, "Yeah, I guess I'm not much of a coffee drinker. I do like tea. I'm learning, though!"

Such cutting honesty. She had the audacity and strength to admit to her faults and ignorance. Since Bakugou avoided other flavorings, he too had remained ignorant of much of the coffee world. But he would never admit that.

"Okay!" she declared as she raised a black sharpie in the air. "One large dark black coffee coming right up! You're Bakugou, right?"

How did she know his name? He took a double take of her name tag.

"Oh, hey, Uraraka. When did you start working here?" asked Kirishima as he folded his arms behind his head.

Uraraka squinted her eyes to concentrate on spelling her customer's name. "Today, actually. Did you want anything, Kirishima?" she greeted with an equally pleasant smile from before.

Bakugou muttered, "Uraraka." The winds of her name skated through his teeth. Her coffee brown hair and her almond colored eyes and round, pink cheeks all chimed a series of bells in Bakugou's mind. They went to the same school and had the same classes.

He mused over that as he stomped back to his seat and waited for her to finish his drink. From his chair, he had a clear view of her across the room. And he kept it clear by shifting in his seat as people crowded his line of vision. Analyzing her behavior, he twirled the coffee straw he picked up from the counter.

Sero had apparently joined Kirishima along with Kaminari. For whatever reason, they didn't order but of course, that didn't matter to Bakugou. A few times they tried to break his concentration, but to no avail, he stayed fixated on the pathetic barista.

Several people entered the shop and bombarded her with their arbitrary orders and specific requests because the guy that usually works there does such a good job. He watched as she spilled scorching hot water on the floor and nearly dodged to avoid a severe burn. All the while she kept that offensively white smile on her face with a focused glint of determination in her eyes.

Someone shouted at her for the blunder. Bakugou bent the straw in half and slammed it on the table before marching back over the counter. He cut past several people in line. "What's going on? Where's my drink?" he demanded to know the obvious - she got caught up with other customers. He didn't like that. If anyone would snatch her attention with their scathing demands, he wanted it to be him.

Bakugou smirked at the tiny furrow in her brow as she glared up at him. Chills washed down his back as he continued to leer down into those deep, earthy eyes of hers. Not only was he amused by her confidence, he was impressed.

"You interrupted my order," complained a young, irrelevant man from behind.

Jumping up and sliding over an empty space on the counter, he grabbed a cup and labeled it "hipster jackass number 1." With dry, crimson eyes he made eye contact and asked, "I'll take your order since this barista doesn't know a cup of coffee from a cup of shit." After he noticed the wavering fervor in the trembling man's disposition, he noticed a cheat sheet plastered that dictated the combination of all the drinks they showed. "Tall Macchiato, you said? Sit your ass down, and it'll be ready in a second."

Watching her struggle like she had annoyed him to no end.

Sweat cascaded down Uraraka's forehead as she trembled. "Y-You're gonna help me? I don't know if you can do that," she weakly protested.

What happened to all that insolent spunk she had moments prior? Regardless, he would not have listened to her. "Shut up and get the foam shit ready!" Bakugou ordered. "You, lady with the stupid wig, what do you want?" He pointed to a middle age woman with a bright red wig.

"Okay," reluctantly agreed Uraraka as she slouched her shoulders and sighed.

Somehow, they made it through the crowd of customers that had gathered and even more impatient coffee addicts that entered, and everyone had either left or taken their spot in a corner of the quiet cafe. By the end of the line, the sun had set and nearly an hour had passed.

Uraraka bowed and smiled, "Thanks a lot, Bakugou. I really needed help. Hopefully, they hire another person soon. I guess it's kind of hard for just two people to trade shifts all the time, but I gotta do this no matter what." For her family. The coffee pot caught her attention, and she maneuvered to prepare another cup. Fortunately, it was hot enough. When she tilted the pot, a chocolatey, dark stream ribboned down into the cup she held a considerable distance below. Not a single drop spilled.

Quick learner. "Where was that skill earlier?" chided Bakugou as he pointed an accusatory finger at his temporary co-worker.

"Oh? I'm getting better or somethin'?" she chirped without carelessly averting her attention. Placing a lid on the top, she rotated the cup to reveal Bakugou's name written in simple, hiragana characters. She raised the cup a few inches in front of her and took a long whiff of the earthy scent of pure coffee. "One big, black and dark coffee for Bakugou."

Now, Bakugou recalled the sensation of a racing heart that often accompanied his hot cup of morning coffee, but he had never experienced it before taking a sip. By some anomaly, he noticed a peculiar boost of energy that caused small tremors in his knees and a twitch in his cheek. Bringing the edge of the lid to his mouth, he huffed away the steam before allowing the perfectly hot, artisan coffee cascade down his throat.

Simple. Strong. Flawless. Just like he liked it.

Her eyes widened as she gawked at Bakugou chugging the drink like it was iced tea. "Is that okay for you to drink like that?"

"Yeah, it was the best damn coff-," he began but then he immediately stopped as he caught sight of the ecstatic grin that swept across her face. Like a bolt of radiant energy shot through her body, she perked up her posture and widened her shimmering brown eyes. Did that almost compliment excite her to that degree? He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and damned the thought from his mind. After all, he could surely make a cup for her that would put every ounce of effort of hers to shame.

However, her sharp and quick gasp settled into a flustered sigh as she held her pink cheeks with her hands. "Deku," she sang in a sweet and calm tone.

Deku? As in his childhood dork of a friend? Sure enough, when he turned around, he saw the timid and awkward classmate at the counter directly behind him. She had been looking at him.

"Hey, Uraraka and Kacchan. I didn't know you worked here, too," noted Midoriya.

Bakugou immediately felt a shock of pain shoot through his chest - quick yet remarkable. His eyes never left her back as she moved past him, and he resented the fact that she had her back towards him in the first place.

Uraraka ran up to Midoriya like a helpless puppy and leaned over the counter for small talk. She put up her cream, white apron and washed her hands. "I guess we're going back to the dorms for the day. I'll see you at school tomorrow," she waved.

"Wait, you're not gonna leave me here, are you? I don't even work here!" he shouted. There's an idea. He could work there. Then, he'd be able to pick up where they left off and repeatedly overshadow her with his coffee-making expertise. Week after week he'd work by her side and watch her fumble over herself. He couldn't wait.

"Oh, Aizawa said I could leave at the end of my shift. He's in the back."

Bakugou tensed every muscle in his body as he looked back at the ominous brown door where an orange tabby cat scratched at the surface. Was that bastard in the back the entire damn time? Well, that was his door of opportunity - literally.

His ears twitched at the chiming of the bell near the door as Uraraka exited the cafe. A frown dropped on his face as he recalled the sensations of working next to her in the coffee shop. He felt the loss and hurried towards the door of the manager to remedy it.

The next day, Uraraka opened the door to her second day at work and slipped in. A slight sense of dread hung over her head. Sure, she had improved, but she wasn't confident that she would be as efficient on her own.

"Oi, round face, you need to start showing up earlier than that."

Her eyes dilated before recognizing that caustic, masculine voice. Turning around, a bright smile sparkled on her face as she gasped, "Eh? Bakugou?" Her heart floated before picking up speed, for, she had gotten a taste of the contact high of working in a coffee shop. Something new that accompanied the arrival of her new coworker.

Wonderful and promising euphoria.

[ask-thehuman]

Confronting a Killer Robot

METTATON:  * WELL WELL WELL! OUR LIEGE IS MAKING THE ROUNDS NOW, I SEE. HOW ARE  WE TODAY DEAR?

THE SOVEREIGN - FRISK:  And MTT would receive a cold look. One that betrayed a bit of  annoyance. Things honestly could have been so peaceful if only dirty  laundry had not been aired. Finally a smile.

 * I was told something interesting, by the Captain of the Royal Guard.  Something about a video?

 * You wouldn't know anything about that, would you Mettaton?

METTATON:  * DARLING DEAR, ME? ONLY THE BIGGEST NAME IN ENTERTAINMENT HERE IN THE  UNDERGROUND, WHICH AIRS CONSTANTLY ACROSS THE ENTIRETY OF THE  UNDERGROUND?

 * THE ONLY NEWS OUTLET IN SAID UNDERGROUND? WHY WOULD YOU EVER GET  THAT IMPRESSION?

 Mettaton's smile flashes out in the gloom as his eyes open. There's a  twinkle of mischief in everything from his words to his carriage. He  had the child in his hands, as far as he was aware. Why wouldn't he  flaunt it?

 * OH, BUT TOO MANY EARS HERE. FAR, FAR TOO MANY. AND CAMERAS! WE  SHOULD PROBABLY RELOCATE SOMEWHERE A BIT LESS... WELL, PHOTOGENIC.

THE SOVEREIGN - FRISK:  * Why?

 * Unlike someone else, I'm quite alright with others knowing the  truth.

 * If you have some concerns with how I am running things, I welcome  anyone to come forward and speak directly instead of hiding behind  anonymity.

METTATON: * AH AH AH, FRISK. YOU PLAY A DANGEROUS GAME WITH THAT THINKING. YOU DO NOT SIMPLY CALL MY BLUFF AND WALK AWAY. WE BOTH LOSE IN THAT INSTANCE.  * I AM AN ACTOR. --BUT YOU ALREADY KNOW THIS. PART OF THE GROOMING PROCESS FOR THAT IS BECOMING WORLDLY IN THE ART OF DECEPTION. OR AS THE LESS SAVORY WOULD LIKE YOU TO HEAR, MANIPULATION.  * AND I CAN READ YOU LIKE A BOOK, CHILD. YOU WORE AN OBVIOUS CHIP ON YOUR SHOULDER THE MOMENT YOU EVEN FELL DOWN HERE! METTATON: * ALMOST AS IF YOU HAD PREMEDITATED THE MURDER FROM THE VERY BEGINNING OF IT ALL, IF I MIGHT BE SO SCANDALOUS TO ASSERT. THE WAY YOU MOVE..  * THE WAY YOU TALK TO PEOPLE! OH, IT'S SO MUCH TO ANALYZE I CANNOT EVEN BEGIN TO EXPRESS MY EXCITEMENT! OVERNIGHT YOU PRACTICALLY BECAME MY MUSE ON THAT SILVER SCREEN. THE SOVEREIGN - FRISK: The word 'Murder' didn't sit right with the human child, and it showed in the way they flinched away, only to utilize their DETERMINATION in order to straighten back up. A ruler must be composed. * Of course I did, Mettaton. But there is so much that you cannot know. Cannot understand about how I do things. * My only intention from the moment I came down here was to be able to free monster kind, and prevent another war. Humans are well educated about the war. about what was lost.  * Then I met the past King. And he was tired. Who wouldn't be in his shoes. Being the sole HOPE for everyone trapped down here for so many years. He could not bare it any longer. THE SOVEREIGN - FRISK: * He asked for my help. I'm certain you caught that on that video. Or did you just... Blank that out? Not as good for ratings, right? METTATON: * YOU MISUNDERSTAND, FRISK. WHY WOULD I BOTHER OMITTING ANY OF THE DETAILS OF MY FINDINGS? I AM ALSO A JOURNALIST IF YOU RECALL. PROBABLY THE ONLY ONE BY MARKET MONOPOLY.   * I ONLY GAIN BY RELEASING THAT INFORMATION. THE STORY IN AND OF ITSELF? IT WOULD BE AN UPHEAVAL THE LIKES OF WHICH THE UNDERGROUND WOULD HAVE EVER SEEN! PERHAPS MORE SO THAN THE. Mettaton pauses, scratching his chin as something odd washes over his expression. He seemed puzzled. Almost irritated, in fact from it. He sighs and shakes his head as he brushes a hand dismissively through the air. * SO OLD, I CANNOT EVEN RECALL APPARENTLY. ANCIENT HISTORY! OLD NEWS! THIS ALONE WOULD CATAPULT EVERYONE BACK INTO CERTAINTY. * BUT THAT ISN'T WHAT I AM INTERESTED IN. OH NO. IT WOULD BE GOOD FUN. BUT WHAT I REALLY WANT..? IS WHAT MAKES YOU TICK * YOUR STORY, IT HOLDS TOGETHER UP UNTIL THE MOMENT ONE REALIZES YOU KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT OUR LITTLE WORLD DOWN HERE. AND HOW DO YOU LEAVE THE UNDERGROUND EXACTLY, FRISK..?

THE SOVEREIGN - FRISK: They knew the story. It showed on their face. A human had fallen down a long time ago. They were best friends with a certain goat child. A goat child that no one remembered. Aside from them.

 * DETERMINATION. They just watched the robot, staring back up at him.

* DETERMINATION is what makes me 'tick' as you put it. The human's own little... Power cell that made us stronger than monster kind. The same power that held you down here in the first place.

* I have it. Through it I know more than you feel I should given my age.

* I want nothing more than peace between monster and humans. And I know that coming from ASGORE's rule, the people are out for blood.THE

* How long do you think the monsters would last in another war?THE

* After being trapped down here, only getting tidbits of information about human culture through trash.

* I know. I was born up there.

* And I don't want that for you. For any of you.

METTATON: * HOW VERY NOBLE OF YOU..! AND WON IN A DUEL TO THE DEATH WITH A HOPELESS MAN YOU DIDN'T EVEN BOTHER TALKING DOWN NO LESS.  * YOU HAVE THESE INTERESTING IDEAS OF RIGHT AND WRONG THAT I WANT TO SO VERY BADLY EXPLORE. BUT AGAIN, THAT ISN'T MY PRESSING CONCERN AT THE MOMENT.

Mettaton moves out from the oppressive light, to stand across from Frisk. He places a hand on his hip, while the other moves to cradle his chin inquisitively.

 * RIGHT OR WRONG, THE KING IS DEAD AND YOU KILLED HIM. YOU SHOULD PROBABLY ANSWER FOR THAT, AS UNPOPULAR THE OPINION OF YOU MIGHT BE.  

* I KNEW UNDYNE WOULDN"T ATTEMPT A COUP THE MOMENT I DROPPED THAT LINE ON HER. YOU ARE RATHER GOOD AT PUTTING ON A SHOW IF I DO SAY SO MYSELF. I AM ALMOST JEALOUS, REALLY.

* WHICH IS IN PART WHY I AM DOING THIS. YOU DON'T DESERVE THAT THRONE. NOT EVEN FOR LACK OF QUALIFICATION, MIND YOU.

* NO, IT'S JUST THAT YOU ARE A HUMAN, WHO HAPPENED TO KILL THE KING OF MONSTERS, AND THAT IS AN EXCELLENT WAY TO BASICALLY SHOOT YOURSELF IN THE FOOT WHEN IT COMES TO OUTRAGEOUS AND UNREASONABLE DEMANDS. --BUSINESS IN SHORT.

THE SOVEREIGN - FRISK: Another visible flinch. Mettaton was really beginning to get under their skin in a way that would have made them take a different route if they knew this would be a problem.  And yet, they regained their composure quickly, lavender eyes narrowing.

* King ASGORE wished for death. He missed his Wife. His.... Children. He's had to act for so long that he simply could not handle it any longer but could not bring anyone to see that weak side of him.

* Because he had been your HOPE for so long. What would that do to a monster? He was already Falling Down by the time I got there. All I did was... Shorten his final suffering.  

Glancing away, they seemed pained, rubbing at their arms in an almost insecure manner.  *

No other Monster would be able. No Willing to pursue a peaceful future with humans. All of you would come out of here looking for another war. Looking for Revenge. But that's not what would happen.

Their gaze returned to Mettaton.  

* What waits out there for everyone if you go with that mindset is complete annihilation.

* What I am doing by maintaining the throne in the short amount of time it takes for another Human to fall down, is ensuring a peaceful future outside of the wall.

* You're recording now, correct? So hear clearly when I tell you.

* I will revoke my title as Ruler the MOMENT that barrier is broken and you are all freed. That is a promise.

METTATON:

* SO YOU INTEND TO BUILD A LASTING FUTURE OF PEACE... ON THE CORPSE OF A STRANGER WHO MAY HAPPEN TO FALL DOWN AFTER YOU?  

* DARLING, I AM AFRAID THAT ISN'T HOW THAT WORKS. I CAN BUY THAT PERHAPS YOU WOULD ABSTAIN TO BREAK THE BARRIER WITH YOUR OWN LIFE FORCE TO ENSURE THIS PEACE.

* BUT YOU KNOW HOW THIS MUST END IF YOU TAKE THIS PATH. AND THAT IS WHAT TRULY BAFFLES ME. YOU WOULD SEE ANOTHER DEAD, PERHAPS EVEN YOURSELF TO ENSURE THIS POTENTIAL FUTURE OF YOURS. * I DON'T EVEN NEED TO EXPLAIN WHY THIS GAMBIT IS CONFUSING OR DOOMED FROM THE OFFSET, DO I?

* I WILL ANYWAY, FOR THE SAKE OF IT. I LIKE HEARING MYSELF TALK.

 * SAY YOU KILL A FINAL HUMAN. ANOTHER CHILD PERHAPS. MAYBE SOMEONE YOU KNOW. YOU BREAK THE BARRIER AND CLAIM PEACE.

* CONGRATULATIONS! YOU MURDERED SOMEONE IN COLD BLOOD, ENTIRELY OUT OF CHARACTER FOR YOU AS OBSERVED SO FAR NO LESS. AND HAVE SET AN EXAMPLE FOR OTHERS TO FOLLOW.

Mettaton pauses, before pacing back and forth. His hand comes up, finger gesturing to the sky a few times.

* BUT LET'S SAY ANOTHER HUMAN FALLS, AND BESTS YOU. NOW WE HAVE LOST THREE SEPARATE RULERS IN THREE DIFFERENT TRAGEDIES.

* THINK OF THE CARNAGE THAT WOULD ENSUE IF THE SELF PROCLAIMED PARAGON OF HUMAN-MONSTER PEACE WAS MURDERED TO ENSURE THE SURVIVAL OF MONSTERKIND.

* YOU EITHER AREN'T ACCOUNTING FOR THIS... OR DELIBERATELY AND BLATANTLY DO NOT CARE AT ALL FOR ANY OF US BEYOND -YOUR- OWN SUFFERING.METTATON:

* IS THAT RIGHT, DARLING?

THE SOVEREIGN - FRISK:

Another flinch.

* If another human falls. And if their DETERMINATION is greater than my own then they'll kill me. If not. I kill them. Either way you are free.

* Is this NOT the way you all were living before under Asgore? You don't understand everything at play, you are simply taking things at face value at what you saw. And how YOU understand it.  

* MONSTER KIND IS ALL THAT HAS EVER MATTERED TO ME. FROM THE BEGINNING OF THIS TRIP THROUGH H-----  

Light left the child's eyes once more. The world seemed to chug around the duo during this time as well. Menus flickered around their face once more, before they snapped back. When they did it wasn't the steadily angered expression of a being having to explain their actions. It was that of a scared and confused child staring up at the robot.

They took a step back.

Something else has gone missing.

[dothewrite]

ok but while im here i might as well request something ahahah. what abotu a cute scenario with kuroo and tsukki where their s/o eats the guys' favorite food in front of them ? maybe because they had an argument and she's really childish or idek adn they like chase her around omg so cute aaahh

I feel like I maybe made this less fluffy by accident, but I hope you like it anyway. Thanks for your patience!

To any onlooker, they’re a perfectcouple; hands clasped tightly in each other’s, shoulders leaning in and bumpingin hidden multitudes, and their cheerful smiles beaming a sunflower aura aroundthem.

Kuroo supposes, grudgingly, thatyou are perfect. But sometimes, like today, you’re just a little piece of shit,and the hidden smirk behind the twist of your hands drums in that fact. Hesettles opposite Akaashi at the open table, and sighs dramatically when hefeels a wet spot blooming underneath his left thigh. Akaashi doesn’t even lookup from his study of the menu.

“Someone spilled water there earlier.”

“Right,” Kuroo huffs, “perfect.”

He’s not desperate enough to trust youyet when you offer to mop some of it up for him with a tissue. Handing you asimilar looking menu instead, your hands are happily too occupied to give him anymoregrief, deserved or not. He spies Bokuto watching the two of you bemusedly out ofthe corner of his eye, and his bottom lip trembling at the effort to keep hismouth shut about it, and rolls his eyes. He’s surrounded by complete asshats.

“Ready to order?” Your voice simmerswith something that’s too sweet to be safe, but he can’t say no to the way yourpinkie winds around his. Kuroo feels his face warm (ridiculous, frankly, it’stoo past the honeymoon phase for him to be a teenager) and attempts to join inthe conversation in his trademark mellow tone after the waitress walks awaywith their meals on jotted down on a pad.

At first, it’s appetizers. It’s just asmall tray of seaweed and an assortment of salted nuts and vegetables, and letno man say that Kuroo Tetsurou doesn’t eat his vegetables. Or at least he mostcertainly tries, but he finds himself grabbing at air with his chopsticks eattime he reaches for something. A little bewildered, he glances around surreptitiouslyat the table, and then at his friends, who see to notice nothing and areeagerly engaging in conversation about a particularly large butt-shaped bushthey found a few days earlier.

He supposes he can wait until his mealarrives. Kuroo doesn’t want to battle his apparently starving friends afterall.

He begins to grow suspicious when hisplate of curry arrives and it seems to be shrinking faster than expected. Likeearlier, everyone’s eating, blissfully unaware of Kuroo’s individual suffering,but each time he shifts or glances away from his food, it seems to decrease insize just enough that it grates on his nerves. He’s not an idiot, but apparently,someone on his table is a master thief, and he’s not swayed towards yourinnocence no matter how softly you knead his thigh.

“How about no?” He hisses at you, butthere’s no response, and Akaashi only looks up at him with an odd expression onhis face and yours doesn’t flicker in the slightest. Then, you smile, and itmakes his breath hitch in ways that assures you of your guilt. He frowns. “Younever smile like that when you’re being nice.”

“I’m never nice,” you murmur happily, “andthis is for you taking the last of my Kinder chocolate.”

“You said you’re on a diet!”

“Uh… you guys alright?” Bokuto asks, butthe shit-eating grin on his face is too obvious for words.

“We’re fine,” Kuroo answers smoothly,and reaches over to press a soft kiss against your lips. There’s a quiet ‘ew’from the other side of the table, and yeah, it’s pretty weird to taste yourudon in your saliva, but it’s worth it when he snatches the egg out of yourbowl.

He knows he did good when your mouthcrumples at the very noticeable absence of your favourite food. You let out abattle cry that almost shocks him out of his seat and you lunge over to clutchat his cheeks.

“It’s a pretty good tasting egg,” helaughs as he suffers through your ministrations.

“You took my egg! Out of everything! And my Kinder!”

It doesn’t help when Bokuto picks up theegg on his own dish and in a show of loving bliss, feeds it to Kuroo by hand.The anguish on your face flavours the food to perfection, and the rest of thethree troublemakers are quickly put out of commission from laughter.

Kuroo swallows his food, and you watchit go down his throat with growing misery, and he thinks that perhaps it’salways good to take a break before being beat to the ground a second time.

“Let’s drop by somewhere after we eat,okay?” He asks you knowingly.

You perk up at the sound of that, butthe wariness still sets itself in the lines of your face. “Where?”

He smiles, and this time you’re the onewho warms up, and unconsciously you find yourself pressed closer against hislean body as a natural reaction to his charm.

“We’ll get you some more chocolate,” hetraces a finger along the line of your cheekbone, and mollified, you sink backinto your seat with a small nod.

Akaashi shakes his head at the wholescene, and hides his smile behind a hand.

What’s new?Tsukishima’s greatest talent is being a dick, and if you thought that beingdrugged up on anesthesia would change that for at least a day, you were so, sowrong. In fact, where there used to be a sour pinch to his lips indicating thathe was holding a biting comment well behind his lips, now they’re just flappingdamn loose in the wind, and you haven’t had a second’s rest from his snark allday.

You wonder if it’spossible to put him under all the way, for as long as it takes. Maybe longenough for you to take a spa day to recuperate, because this is something thepolice should start training their cadets against- psychological torture.

“Flour? Morecarbs? What about your thighs?” He shoots them a glance and you smile behindbrittle defenses. “I guess you aren’t worrying about their size anymore, huh.”

“Okay,” you sayslowly, “no flour. No carbs.”

“Ookay,” he imitates you poorly, soundinglike the doped up man that he is, “then how are you going to make that new pie?”

“I’m not,” yousniff, “I’m going to make karaage.”

He has the decencyto look scandalized, a hand reaching up to cup at his swollen cheeks. “No.”

“Yes.”

“But I can’t eatthat!”

You pluck the bagof candy out of his hands and put it back on the shelf where it belongs. “That’sthe point. I’m going to make your favourite food, and I’m going to eat it infront of you.”

“I’m calling thepolice.”

“Kei, you can’tcall the police for dinner.”

“This is abuse!This is cruelty!”

If you were asmarter person, you’d have had the insight to film all this on your phone and usehis terrible behavior to haunt him later when he’s back from whatever cloud he’son, surfing through the waves of medicinal haze. You had felt sorry for himwhen you saw how poorly he looked after he had his wisdom teeth taken out rightafter the operation, but the doctor had released him early, saying that he wasfine, and apparently Tsukishima took it upon himself to appoint himself the newemperor of your life and main pain in the ass. You really need to google howlong painkillers last for. You’d rather sit through him grumpy than himborderline insane.

Still, you had totactically hide your grin at his childish whine- he’d never let you live thatdown if he realized. One obstacle at a time here.

He trails afteryou without another word, and you snap a sneak pic of his pouty face when he’snot looking. You complete your rounds quickly before he actually starts tothrow a tantrum in the middle of the supermarket, and the way home is a long,tiring walk of him listing all the reasons why you’re a horrible person and youshould suffer soup with him out of empathy if you wanted to go to heaven. Theonly improvement when you get home is the lack of blistering heat, and youfavour turning on the air conditioning at full blast than even responding toyour boyfriend’s taunts.

Tsukishima finallyfalls silent when he sees you take out the chopping board and the ingredients.The reality of what you’re about to do seems to hit him with funeral-worthysolemnity, and the process is significantly easier and dare you say, fun, without a man-child bothering you,no matter how much you love him.

You grab hisfavourite bowl from the cupboard and ladle in rich soup, stewed since six inthe morning, but he looks no happier in his seat by the dining table. Headcollapsed in one hand, Tsukishima reverts back to his primary school days,staring grumpily at the freshly fried, steaming stack of karaage, and if hecould sear the sauce into ash with his gaze alone, he would.

You take your seatopposite him with some rice and egg, and smile.

“Eat up, or you’llbe hungry later.”

He picks up hisspoon, and dips it into the soup. You grab your chopsticks, and pick up a pieceof chicken to press into your mouth. You watch as his throat gulps pure saliva,and the soup drips clumsily from his spoon.

“Please.” Tsukishima looks like he’sabout to cry, but you can’t find it in you to feel the least bit sorry for him,not after all that mess at the supermarket.

You take anotherbite, and grin.

“Nope,” youanswer, your lips popping at the ‘oh’ sound, and you think that’s what does it.Tsukishima leaps up poorly from his position and throws himself across thetable, almost snatching the food out of your hands. You jolt backwards, feelingthe fear of God thrust through you and you stare at him with wide eyes.

You don’t get asingle moment to relax at all- sufficiently throwing you off kilter, Tsukishimatakes the opportunity to slide an unfairly long leg to the left and zips overto your side at lightning speed. You dodge him just barely, but he follows youat breakneck speed until the two of you are chasing each other around the smalltable, food in your hand and your shrieks starting to sound like hystericalgiggling.

“Got you,” a hand snatches at the back ofyour shirt and you’re tugged backwards into a solid frame, the impact pushingthe air out of your lungs. His limbs are everywhere around you, you’re not sureif he’s hugging you, trapping you, or literally imprisoning you, but he’s noteven interested in you, just thepiece of chicken dangling precariously on the end of your chopsticks.

Tsukishima looksright into your eyes before leaning forwards and eating it up in one go.

You’re slackjawed, but not for long, and still laughing- he’s almost laughing too, youswear- you reach up onto your tip toes to press a soft kiss against the cornerof his mouth.

“You’re a moron,”you grin.

(You get your laugh later when the painkillerwears off, and he spends a good hour hating himself for eating crunchy food.)

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

rule of three - chapter 32

RULE OF THREE CHAPTER INDEX HERE. 

 “This is not my idea of a first date,” Peter grouses when Chris hands him the safety glasses or whatever the hell they are.

Chris just quirks his mouth in a smile that says a lot more than words could. Because it doesn’t matter what Stiles had suggested, Peter would have jumped at the chance to spend some time with him.

It’s been two weeks since Deucalion’s arrest, and they’ve hardly seen Stiles. Peter’s missed him. Texting isn’t the same. Peter would rather hear Stiles’s laugh and see the way his eyes shine when he does it than get a texted LOL. So yes, he would have agreed to anything. He had hoped, though, for something with appetizers and a wine menu.

Stiles flashes him a grin, and adjusts his earmuff things.

Are they still called earmuffs if they’re not fuzzy and warm?

Peter has no idea. He’s completely out of his depth here.

The shooting range is mostly empty. Maybe there’s a busy period at places like this, and maybe there’s not. If there is, it’s certainly not today. They’re the only ones in this half of the—gallery? Peter wants to call it a gallery despite the depressing lack of art, or even a view. The term shooting gallery has to come from somewhere, right? And why not here? They’re in a long, wide hallway basically, and there is a series of narrow rooms off to the side where the targets are set up. It’s all very police buddy movie.

Peter might be out of his depth in his surroundings and completely hopeless with the terminology, but Chris is clearly in his element. He runs Stiles and Peter through the basic safety stuff, which Peter chooses to interpret as “Stay away from the guns and go and read a book in the car, Peter” because this really isn’t him.

Fine.

So Peter did shoot and kill a man back in their apartment, but those were extenuating circumstances. And Peter is totally willing to believe that he will never again be put in a position where anything more this his currently rudimentary—or non-existent—knowledge of guns will be required. Peter never wants to touch a gun again. Stiles clearly wants to learn how to, so that if there’s ever a next time he’ll feel more in control.

Stiles is soaking it up. He’s listening intently to Chris, and nodding to show his understanding.

And then Chris is standing behind Stiles, his hands on his hips to get his stance right, and Peter forgets all about the book in the car. To be fair, both Chris and Stiles both seem totally focused on what they’re doing, and Peter is probably the only one with his mind in the gutter, but Stiles looks good with Chris’s fingers splayed around his hips. Peter can’t help but imagine them naked, Chris’s cock sliding into the boy. Stiles’s mouth hanging open, his eyes sliding shut, every thrust punching out a sweet, strangled noise. Peter imagines licking the sweat and cum off both of them when they’re done.

Peter’s fantasy shatters the moment he sees how much Stiles is shaking as he raises his gun to shoot the paper target.

“You’re doing good,” Chris tells him. “Breathe in, and breathe out. Don’t hold your breath. Fire on the exhale.”

Stiles nods, swiping his tongue over his lower lip as he tries to steady his aim.

Stiles killed a man too, of course. Matt Daehler died on his way to the hospital and Peter hopes wholeheartedly that his last moments were full of pain and regret. Stiles is very probably a stronger man that Peter if he’s ready to pick up a gun again.

Stiles sucks in a deep breath, and holds it for a moment before he lets it out again. He fires, and Peter jerks at the noise despite his hearing protection.

“Fuck,” Stiles says, squinting at the target. “Right in the throat. Apparently I’ve got a signature style.”

“You’ve got bad aim,” Chris tells him with a smile. “You’re aiming for the chest, remember? Always go for the body mass, not the extremities.”

“No trick shooting with you then?” Stiles asks, his voice pitched a little higher than usual with nerves.

“No,” Chris tells him, and corrects his stance again. “Try again.”

They’re at the shooting range for an hour, until Stiles is wrung out, Chris declares him a decent student, and Peter has run through every fantasy of a naked Stiles in a thigh holster that he can imagine.

He’ll move onto fantasies of tearing body armor off him next time.

 ***

 They eat a late lunch at a restaurant on Pine Street, that’s not quite the plastic and neon monstrosity that Peter had feared. The menus are laminated, but he gives them a pass on that because the place is otherwise charming. Although that might be the company.

Stiles orders a club sandwich and a soda, and then fiddles with his straw for a while before he says, suddenly, “Where did you guys go on your first date?”

Peter considers that for a moment. “Here.”

“You brought me to the same spot you had your first date?” Sties asks, raising his eyebrows.

Chris smiles.

“No,” Peter says. “I mean that this is our first date.”

Stiles’s jaw drops.

“We never dated,” Chris says. “I was mated to someone else.”

“We hooked up in a lot of filthy hotel rooms and back alleys,” Peter says. “And then the loft. We didn’t go out.”

“That’s…” Stiles blinks. “Wow. Not even a movie?”

Peter smiles a little at that. “Don’t feel too sorry for us, Stiles. We had some fantastic dirty sex, without the annoying social niceties attached.”

“Social niceties like getting to know the other person?” Stiles challenges.

“It’s amazing what you can learn about someone else during the fantastic dirty sex,” Peter shoots back, just to enjoy the flush that pinks Stiles’s cheeks.

“Particularly when the other person doesn’t know how to shut his damn mouth,” Chris says.

Peter smirks, and Stiles gives a snort of laughter.

“We did go out,” Chris says. “When I got divorced, remember?”

“We ate burgers in my car when I picked you up from the courthouse,” Peter says, and winks at Stiles. “And they say romance is dead.”

“I visited you when you were in college,” Chris reminds him.

“Yes,” Peter allows, although he can’t consider those dates either. Not really. They still didn’t have the freedom of going out and acting like boyfriends in public, since Peter’s circle of friends was mostly still from Beacon Hills, and they would know who Chris Argent was. The mated alpha son of Gerard Argent. Takeout meals and closed curtains were the extent of their time together then. “You visited. We didn’t date.”

“Okay,” Stiles says suddenly, his smile a fraction too bright as though he’s worried they’re going to argue about it. “So this is everyone’s first date, right? We’ll circle it on the calendar or something.”

Peter snaps a complimentary breadstick. “You don’t need to be the peacemaker, Stiles.”

“What?”

“This asshole and I have got twenty years of baggage.” Peter shrugs. “It’s not your job to unpack it.”

“Right,” Stiles says with a nod. “So we’ll just load mine up and throw it in the back with yours?”

Peter shrugs again and smirks. “Why not?”

“That seems like a disaster of a plan,” Stiles says frankly and then takes a long sip of his soda.

Chris reaches out and squeezes Peter’s hand. “Well, he’s a disaster of a person.”

Stiles laughs so hard that soda comes out his nose.

 ***

 Their second date is a movie. Stiles gets so excited during the part with explosions that he spills his popcorn all over the three of them.

 ***

 There are things that Stiles doesn’t say to their faces, but he sometimes sends texts.

I don’t want to have heat sex with you. Or anyone. Is that ok?

“He’s too young,” Chris says when the text comes through. “If he can’t talk about sex to our faces, he’s too young.”

“Bullshit,” Peter says. “He’s suffered trauma and he’s terrified of having his control taken away from him. That’s why he’s texting, not talking. If he’s texting, nobody can railroad him. He can take as long as he wants to think of a reply, and we can’t change his mind. He’s not embarrassed by sex, Christopher, he’s afraid of losing his agency during heat.”

He texts back: You set the rules, sweetheart. Remember?

 ***

 Their third date is possibly the most terrifying of all: family dinner with the Stilinskis. Peter finds himself perversely delighted at the prospect of facing John Stilinski’s disapproval. He’s never been given a shovel talk before and is almost looking forward to it. He makes an eggplant parmesan with fresh mozzarella to take with them, since Stiles insisted on something meat-free, but Peter knows will still earn John’s appreciation by being absolutely laden with cheese.

Stiles is cooking too, but clearly not just because he’s the omega of the household. He’s definitely in charge, and Isaac is his vegetable-chopping bitch. But the household is still traditional in some respects: John shows Peter and Chris into the living room, gestures at them to sit down on the couch, and then sits across from them and stares at them in silence for a long while.

Chris takes it all with his usual equanimity.

Peter suddenly regrets looking forward to this part.

At last, John sighs. “He’s my son,” he says, and then presses his mouth into a tight line and shakes his head slightly. “My son. If anything happened to him…”

And Peter understands, because yes, Stiles is precious. Stiles is one of the brightest stars in the sky. If anything happened to him, it wouldn’t just be John who was bereft.

“John,” Chris says, his voice calm and level. “The last thing Peter and I want is to hurt Stiles.”

“You’re a lot older than him,” John says. “You have a history that he can’t even begin to compete against.”

“And we don’t expect him to,” Chris says. He rubs his forehead for a moment, the slight movement signaling his nerves, and Peter melts a little. Chris, total fucking badass Chris, is nervous. Well, that makes two of them. “This is new territory for us as well. But we like Stiles a lot, and we respect him, and we would never intentionally hurt him in any way. That’s a promise.”

Peter nods.

“Well,” John says finally. “I guess that’s all I can ask, isn’t it?”

He never does show them his gun collection.

 ***

 Stiles is still smiling when he walks Peter and Chris to their car. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Peter asks.

“For letting my dad glare at you throughout dinner.”

Chris leans against the car. “He’s also glaring at us now from the front porch.”

Stiles turns around, squawking with indignation. “Dad! Jesus Christ! I’m giving Peter back his casserole dish?”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Peter murmurs, and Chris elbows him.

John looks pointedly at his watch and steps back inside the house.

“Guess I’d better make this quick then.” Stiles says, stepping closer.

Chris gets the first kiss, and Peter finds that he doesn’t mind, because it’s a beautiful thing to watch. Stiles melts into Chris, a feeling Peter is more than familiar with, and looks dazed when he finally steps back again.

And then Stiles’s mouth is warm against Peter’s, and Peter thrills to be following the same path that Chris’s tongue just did.

Stiles pulls back. “Your turn.”

Chris raises his eyebrows.

“Don’t make me smoosh you together like my GI Joe figures when I was eight.” Stiles’s smile is nine-tenths wicked. “Because I will.”

Peter smirks, and reaches out and curls his hand around the back of Chris’s head. Tugs him close into a kiss that’s quick, messy, and breaks when Chris starts to laugh.

“Still hot,” Stiles declares with a grin. “Goodnight!”

He waves awkwardly and jogs back toward the house.

Peter watches him go, warmth flooding through him. Beside him Chris is still smiling.

No, this was never about adding someone to their relationship, was it? This was about starting over, for all of them.

This is something new, and it just might be something wonderful.

[glopratchet]

game

Hi, i'm endless kbar Thanks for your interest in alligator order What we have here is just a single order for alligator teeth We don't sell them directly as they are very expensive to acquire and scales Are [ready] or do you need to [learn how to deliver alligator]? I need to learn how to deliver alligator teeth and scales I will be ready when my turn comes It takes a fair amount of time before your turn is due again [learn to deliver] See this icon in the top right hand corner It signifies that we currently need alligator teeth and scales See this section over here for information concerning how to deliver this whether your character knows how or not This brings up the map You can see the most recently visited locations which in this case is only Fort Defiance The map allows you to hover from location to location Feel free to move as you wish We have already mapped out all the best delivery locatations on this map You can however make your own delivery requests Check over the information in this section by selecting it at the bottom of the screen Also, you'll given an estatmate amount of time it will take to get there at the speed your pony can gallop per hour This is currently set at Fort Defiance which is under the Kingdom of Man Select the delivery location to change where your rider might be heading There are five to choose from currently: Cobalt Mines ; (Charlesopolis Your oddwad will take you there Overlook ; (Cormarcko territory Salamander's Pass ; (Charlesopolis territory You'd never expect banditos to be so close to Charles There is a big button that says cancel this delivery Collect your payment afterward either way at any time if you've completed what your rider was supposed to do or just want them to come back See the icon in the upper left hand corner; the rider icon This allows you to call for your rider to come back to fort defiance if there is nothing for them to do This icon- toggles through all of your modes so you can access customer related needs, or attempt to visit a focus zone There are other functions but feel free to explore on your own Explorer mode please respond in character as to what you might want to wear while being a roving advertisement for the company Your focus dot will be free to describe the scene as it happens Boomstick mode- deliver the beast to the door step This enables your boom stick This enables your sight feed so you can watch the world around you in full first person including your chracter as if it were a virtual reality set When you are in boomstick mode everything turns dark and you get the thrill of the hunt Your victims will appear with reticules so you can track and aim your shots easier Your boomstick appears It's better to bring it up yourself so you can prepare for moving and shooting instead of fumbling around for it once you spot a target in your hand into the air and grab it with your other hand to fully control it in order to shoot after dropping it from above your target You want your bullet to ricochet Click the boom stick to toss the boomstick The longer you wait the more accurate the hit but the harder it is to ricochet, especially when first learning The boomstick lands at the appointed location from the aim mode and you pick up the ricochet in your offhand This subtelty of touch allows you to apply spin and velocity to your bullet Click the icon in the upper right hand corner to disable your boomstick while still wearing your silencer If you have the tracking mod attachment, you will be able to see your enemy's yellow healthbar When you are not in boom stick mode and no reticules appear on your screen shoot anyway for a chance to lode shells semiblind You see an aiming marker in the center of the screen It's important to remember the shots here don't actually go anywhere, but you can come back to them Drop the boomstick and fill the clip Drag it around to where you would like it placed during this sequence you can bring up sub menus It will describe the scene around you in words but will not show pictures All of these describptions are saved into your story of what happened even if other users can't see the descriptions from their point of view Oh you so you think your ready to rock? Go play something that doesn't teach you a useless skill just to get you to waste money on a game that forces you to pay to win just so you can feel Materilizin you into the armoury in front of a large projector display These are items you can put on making your costume, Some items can be used like weapons or tools Looking at your options you wonder if your on drugs Probably should have thought this one through You suddenly with in a VR space standing next to a pole looking at several more on the ground near you Your Master and two other people behind you You see what the man on the screen does, you follow along and pick a club near you on the ground "Mr Lord would you care to explain the rules of golf? " The assistant asks laughing "I would love to" Lord smiles and picks up the ballthe launches it down the range It bounces off in an awkward launch on a medium height path out onto the fairway You attempt to send your clubhead through the ball "Ha! I don't think so" one of the other students say as they all hit their shots, easily beating you You're a failure "We'll pick this up in another time, for now let's head indoors You follow assistantMaster lead you back to the house for a bit of lunch and then it's free time til afternoon classes [explosion] Obviously you rip out your earpeice and toss it before it blows apart your implants Well there goes your newfound hack ability You are currently carrying a mighty fine boomstick also it seems you are currently nudist, no clothing in your inventory either 'Well that was interesting Keep track of your energy and hunger levels Class today was interesting If your energy gets too low your going to need to find some sunlight to power it back up While here your stress level seems to have plummeted Try to keep it completely full for the duration of the delivery or suffer the consequences As for your hunger level you have gone way too long with out food Play defensively While you are a more skilled fighter it may be best to try not to engage the shadows at all fear for the majority of this mission Fear clouds judgment Unless your fighting a dark mage of course Remember light is always stronger than the shadow It's pure black and shiny like plastic The teeth appear to be recessive and internal like a snakes Be incredibly cauitous around it Begin thinking about how this is going to play out Alligators are challanging and can be difficult at first but with the right tactics they are no match for you Let's think about this However the more you deliver the more you will notice there tales and behavior patterns becoming more apparent and easier to prepare for Remember the more deliveries you make the easier it will become After the alligator begins to circle you prepare yourself for it's launch at any moment You may dread busting a gator the first time but i gurantee the second time will be less frustrating You attempt to sweep the gator's underbelly with your feet but it'sno easy task Just take notes and pay attention to were exactly the blows land You are concern about the tooth that managed to get under your armor To the behavior of the alligator You're not quite sure what is going on exactly, but you're not really concerned Probably normal alligator digesttion Do research a head of time to arm yourself with a good knowledge base of all information possible Your are never going to find where an alligator is the weakest to or takes the most cutting damage You just need proper medical skill to reach the organs to skewer or slash with a knife Dont be ashamed to look things up online Internet explorer warns you that the site is untrustworthy or gives you bad feelings Real life hunters research there quarry and game before hunts to determine the best bait and equipment for the job Shouldn't a slayer of man-eating beasts and creatures of myths and lore? Learn what elements to use on the beast to cause the most pain and suffering Figure out the monsters area of choize to rest or respawn Every delivery person perfers a different play style or approach to stressful situation for themselves Some enjoy loud fast music, others like to be naked Do you like to use flash bombs or small precise daggers? Work out what play style works best for you and your strengths Do you take full adavatage of traps The bridge is surrounded by trouts and fish fossil frames, a fishermans's delight Dont get spot ed on your iphone by the fisherman Spotting a new monster can be extremely exhausting both mentally and physically immediately and wear off the adrenaline If get spotted hide You are not satisfied with this delivery, must have been the excitement of battle or something you ate Repeat is important for perfection You yawn are the thought of repeating this delivery That has to be a good sign right? First things first you need to buy yourself some alcohol so you're not a total bore at work in the morning You are going to want to pick a boomstick to suit your delivery needs or choose more than one for variety You can't wait to sleep this off You didnt think you would take on those gators barehanded Your boss has not given you much but of the reactions that you would become a standard employee The question every new player asks when picking out a weap is "What type of gun is the easiest to use? While many may say the pistol is the best, it cannot be silenced which is a disadvantage Which one of thise fancy weapons is best for a growing young man who wants to slay monsters in his spare time? The shotgun has serious knock back and spread The cream of the crop is the automatic which can deal out nice damage The one to rule them all Should you really go picking a fight with gas station attendant? is the revolver since it can be fully customized with cool attachments Well and say, going for the ones on the right will certainly decrease the amount of human in you but is that really what your looking for? i am going to dodge the question Let me just say this is the same poisonous gas question as above A broken coaster? what does that even mean? They are all the best quality you can get so don't judge a book by it's cover Yes certain weapons can dismember more than others but dont you want to keep that dog elope innside the monster? Is this a trick question? you can make it explode in a shower of super hot bolts which will light your enemies innards on fire If used proficently But its never enough to discourage using a weapon being flashy never got the job done Certain weapons will accel on certain tasks better than others Sometime having a huge honking weapon just makes you a bigger target for the monsters But in the end try every weapon out and see which one fits you the best best or go for the endless and flashy option Go what suits your deliery style These wrist gadgets can let out a massive sound wave which can slow down enemies Use a boomstick because you have fun using it and it's mother isnt here to knock some sense into you But be advised they both tend to over heat with repeated use Not cause its supposed to do the most damage but the after effect is just as amusing Make land whales breathe Air underwater? that would cause severe embarrassment You dont want to do too much damage because you want them to still be viable for capturing bonuses at the end of the level Something like 75 to 125 points is perfect Or there wont be anything left to capture alive Does it really matter! Here we go successful dispatch of enemies resulting in but a few men injured and no deaths Well done the next rank is just around the corner They will give you a basic run down of every weapon and some advanced techniques for using them on the job Then they are going to send you to get a logo imprint put on your arm so you can access the store If you want to maximize your damage output there are many many more ways They only arm you with one every mission but when you have proven yourself there is others available for purchase The wound system in this game is mapped to a prior injury on your arm so that they will scar as the wounds are displayed There pistols, rifles, and shotguns Lacerates, and Penetrating Wounds Tears Pretty self explanatory Impact damage Burn damage, and Well i have no idea what's the difference between the two Piercing damage The biggest category which will lead to loss of limbs and superb disembowelment capabilities Lethal damage Stun damage, and toxins These are the bad boy weapons for taking out enemies without leaving a scratch Boomsticks are for when you want to initiate all out chaos on the battle feild Vars ulu OJC: The amount of time it takes to get there is great, is the least of your worries when one of the monsters got up and attacked you mid warp The size of the impact sphere and the distance traveled through the worm hole takes a toll on the ship and you have to repair it when you finally arrive The size of the critcal impact sphere The ability of the alligator to notice the gigantic space ship and jump through the worm hole is a luck of probability which is why you are here The ability of the alligator to dodge the next 59+ shots is just as stupid but very fortunate for you You make 400 of the finest repeating cross bows and cases for them The type and amount of damage incured is truly outstanding The weight of the weapon in your hands as you walk through the marsh is a perfect counter balance to your steps Restinace to wind factors and the incuring of sand and grit into gears or other moving parts is kept to a minium with after market contraptions Restinace to wind factors and the incuring of sand and grit into gears or other moving parts is kept to a minium with after market contraptions Not to mention the power of your discovery and weapon Range is now incured by dialing in a certain amount of your natural abilities to influence or "tweak" the velocity and direction of the bolt How long it takes to arc and strike your target is the only element you cannot prepare for or control in anyway You got here just in time for a weekly horde incursion How long it takes to fall You found a bubble of safety and learned to love it there Increase your chance of being discovered by hanging out at the enemy compound or gain the homeland an extra repeater crossbow per level Chariot racing has been big in the capitol pit fights for years You have found a love of racing on the back of one of these lizard beasts [normal: long: wide] Oddwads are the "monsters" One allows you reclaim your humanity through having enchanting abilities that allow the person to live a normal life incognito One allows you to be able to blend into most any You have to focus to fire From "splitting" at the waist for the crawl or mounted rifles positions to "standing" for the much slower triple shot bow or the Heavy rifle Focus drains energy like a mofo so it's best to have 1 person focus on shooting while the team members switch positions when firing to give the focii member a break Blocking -- attempting to hide from detection or slip by a large enemy undetected requires intense concentration in the form of prolonged mental focus on the enemies movements and actions in the area Upswing -- allows you to drain life from the enemy and one can assign the button to perform any combat ability normally such as slicedshot, armor piercing etc Hold the button down to focus Dont complain or whine about how they car or the boomstick they like is really bad Nerf plust its a video game, its supposed to be fun for everyone! Make what ever you want You can get added to the updates during playtesting, please keep things realistic, anyone and everyone can join your side as a republic of sorts A fast kill time doesnt count for squat when an army drunk on your blood is spilling into your little village If you dont have fun achieving it then its not worth playing and you should try harder Like any animals, each person comes with a varying ammount of cunning bred into them You want the choas x chariot even though people are bashing it for its skills Mikhail I say forget them This is REAL power right here! Ignore them and your chances of winning Trust me, its more fun this way Would you mind swinging around a choas weapon despite the heat they recieve Be different and use fast weapons to supplement the weaknesses of the chariot You are saying all the wrong things! Make it easy on yourself and use a different charioteer This one seems to have no skill what-so-ever A true sandbox game opens with choosing your starting profile You are left to do whatever you want provided you can follow through with it Choose carefully, YOU ; (almost) alone will be responcible for your victories or defeats Full burst-- unload both boomsticks at once for massive damage at close range Taunt-- empty the barrel of your weapon into the air for fun and psychological effects on enemies Vertical-- aim the shot Cooldown-- amount of time which need to pass before the alligator can be processed again Oddwads are only terrible if you believe them to be Sqaut damage 40 pct poison Hopsital gives new charioteer Same as chariot racing in every regard Citizen saved or enemy vanquished? Underworld healer uses the body to create plastination regardless Lactarius aparactus/somesthetic/toadstool 9 so many mushrooms its not funny But shes about to strip a particularly potent one off a log nearby Too cold up here for you today? hides like a coward and flanks your position There he is! Too many moral dillemas for you today? Eases pain by releasing endorphins when eaten fire it like a rifle or crossbow part human, part pig The most intelligent and civilized of the jerkin species yet still known for their fevor for combat and bloodshed rank smell and unathleticism They propel themselves through sewers and underground waterways in most towns who slither and lurk in only the rottenest depths of undergound waterways with fierce territorial instincts See also: jerk The force shield manifests as a physical barrier with an electric blue hue It deflects all attacks and provides cover from all angles

[sustainableshelby-blog]

Blog 8: Food

“The grotesque details are many and come in nightmarish variety, but the fundamental cause is the same: humans who work at these facilities must handle thousands of animals a day, and many do not see, or do not allow themselves to see, animals as living beings who think, feel emotions, and suffer pain.” (Robertson, 2017)

Like what has been a common overlap in many of my blog posts, the disconnect between humans and nature in today’s society becomes apparent when we take a closer look. Animal abuse in “farms” has caused concern since I was a baby, and it started/existed before then. These meat producing companies profit from the fact that many people are able to buy cheap meat, even when they are living off of a low-income salary. For example, dinner for someone in poverty could be as “quick,” “easy,” and “cheap,” as buying a burger off the dollar menu at McDonald’s. Buying from independent farmers who pledge that they are cruelty-free, their animals are free-range, and their practices are humane means spending more money. For the average American, this price range is too much, which is not that farmer’s fault in my opinion! It is the fault of large corporations using cheap, abusive labor, and cutting corners to lower their prices in order to mass produce their product, which they forget is a living being. I feel this has made much of my generation (and those who are younger) decide to become vegetarian/vegan. Although there are environmental cons to this decision as well, some people feel the weight of animal cruelty taken off their shoulders when living this lifestyle. While I do not particularly live this lifestyle, I do try to limit my consumption of meat. However, like I stated before, it is unfortunately too convenient and cost friendly to purchase fast food when my bank account is running low.

For the rest of this blog post, I have watched the documentary Food Inc., which is about the capitalization of producing food in America.

One moment in the documentary, around 16 minutes and 50 seconds in, a chicken grower’s salary is listed at $18,000. This film was produced in 2008, so according the Inflation Calculator (https://westegg.com/inflation/infl.cgi), these farmers would have been earning about  $21,908.06 (in 2019, since that is the most recent year for the calculator). The documentary also says that a chicken farmer with two chicken houses would be indebted around $500,000, or  $608,557.25 in 2019. The worker who spoke in the documentary said that this is how the companies keep their farmers working; they are in debt due to taking out loans on their farms, and they must keep working to pay it off at a very slow rate. When I saw that yearly income, I was absolutely shocked. I felt like, since working on a farm is clearly not easy work and is very much a necessity in order to keep food in markets, the farmers would be making triple, if not quadruple that! I had no idea how little they were being paid. I recognize that animal abuse is a main concern in this documentary, and I definitely believe it has every right to be highlighted as the need for this documentary’s exposure; however, this fact has me very much surprised and upset. I found this image that very much sums up the downs of being a chicken grower and the ups of being a meat company owner/worker, which I will share below.

(Picture from https://inthesetimes.com/rural-america/entry/20158/chicken-industry-corporate-agriculture-usda-farmer-fair-practices-rules)

“A culture that just views a pig as a pile of protoplasmic, inanimate structure to be manipulated by whatever creative design the human can foist on that critter will probably view individuals within its community and other cultures in the community of nations with the same type of disdain and disrespect and controlling-type mentality.” (Joel Salatin in Food, Inc., 50:04-50:26, 2008).

Hearing Salatin say this gave me chills, I was not expecting such a profound statement for some reason. But his words felt so real and true to even now. I have had experience with people who give no second thoughts about hurting an animal, and I came to find out later that they held racist or prejudiced ideologies. I feel like some people do not realize that we are all born on this planet, and everyone within its protection deserves respect. I know that even I have preconceived prejudices that I am still trying every day to unlearn. But there are people that are just so far into their ignorance that they believe they are the best of the best, and others (races and species alike) simply do not deserve the right to be treated humanely. Since my family has moved to LaBelle and gotten chickens, I feel as if I have a deeper respect for them. We only use them to get eggs, not for their meat. Our chickens are free to roam our property during the day, and we give them a coop to be safe at night. But I see the personalities those birds have compared to the blank eyes of the chickens in the beginning of this documentary. If these companies treated the animals with a fraction more respect than that of what they’re doing now, maybe the meat would be ethically sourced enough. But big changes are hard to make when people do not regard animals as living, breathing creatures.

(Picture taken by my dad of our chickens invading his garage during their daily free roam)

Kenner, R. (Director). (2008). Food, inc. [Video File]. Retrieved from https://digitalcampus.swankmp.net/fgcu284305/watch?token=470A05185ADF4795

Robertson, M. (2017). Sustainability Principles and Practice. Routledge.

[cyclinginaskirt-uk]

It started with just a small innocuous advert on the message board of my mountain bike club…..”planning a trip, anyone interested in bike touring get in touch”.

Why not I thought, what harm could there be in just replying……

A lot as it turns out, which is why, a few weeks later, I’m sat around my kitchen table with 3 strapping strangers drinking beer and discussing luggage. Bike luggage.

It seemed only polite at this juncture to get to know my fellow suffer-fest companions as in just a week’s time we are off to Wales to take on the Trans-Cambrian trail, cycling and camping together for three days covering over 100 miles of some of the best remote mountain trails in the UK. It’s nice to put faces to names too with communication thus far being limited to What’s app banter.

M, my long-suffering partner appears with pizza and our intrepid band is complete. For the first time ever on a trip I have done none of the planning or organising which is both wonderful and scary, especially for those of us with control issues. This is Keith’s baby, submitter of advert and veteran cycle tourist he completed the trail last year and apparently enjoyed the pain so much he’s willing to give it another bash.

Two of his friends Gary aka Action Man and Paul, make us the remainder of the party. Gary is hyper qualified in the bike stakes as he’s just returned from cycling across New Zealand – on a bike carrying a disabled ex-service man, one of his many feats of endurance as we will learn.

Fast forward a few days and the next time we meet it’s in the middle of a field on the Welsh borders at Knighton, close to Offa’s Dyke. The river running through the field is the cartographic dividing line between England and Wales or so I’m reliably informed by the sat-nav. Handy information but it doesn’t make up for her failure to direct us to the campsite. After much inching through precipitous single track lanes in the car it’s good old fashioned human-eyesight which finally spots the handwritten felt-tip sign welcoming us to Panpwnton farm hikers camp.

The campsite is small but with a warm welcome and spotlessly clean toilet, which gives it high marks with me even if a bit of a queue forms for the single cubicle at peak times.

Tent pitched, Gary and Keith soon arrive but with the sad news that Paul has had to pull out last minute. One man down already, but undaunted we head to the pub for a pre-event athletes’ dinner of pizza washed down with copious amounts of beer and wine.

The next day dawns misty but dry. In my true organised-bordering-on-obsessive style I’ve have arranged all our kit for the fastest most efficient start possible, with provision for a decent cooked breakfast to send us on our way. M returns from the car with cups of tea, time to start the day and the adventure……

M: Where are the car keys….?

Me: “Very funny”.

M: “No, seriously where are the car keys…..?” And then the rain starts.

Three hours later the breakdown man is shaking his head having tried and failed to open the car using what looks like a credit card, blood pressure cuff and a coat hanger.

All our gear is still firmly imprisoned inside the car, perfectly packed bags, clothes, keys for the bikes also locked to the car.

I’m all for throwing a brick through the window (it’s M’s car) spurred by the heady effect of Hanger (hunger induced anger) and frustration. Fortunately Keith has spare food but the kit is still safely locked away and we’re going nowhere. After hours of scouring the camping field combing knee length grass in the drizzle, our best but unfounded guess is that the keys have been locked in the vehicle. In defeat I sit in the tent listening to the rain. With nothing better to do I decide to check M’s sleeping bag one more time just in case…… I FOUND THEM. Relief washes away frustration as the Breakdown man just rolls his eyes at us and leaves. We finally set off and even the drizzle is clearing up.

The trail: Day One

Knighton to Elan Valley

35 miles, 4150 feet of climbing

It’s great to finally be moving as we cycle up the hill away from the campsite. The car keys are firmly stored in my pocket for when we return in 3 days.

The trail begins after only a mile or so of tarmac. The whole route is advertised as over 70% off road, with any tarmac that there is consisting of small country lanes making it fantastic MTB country.

After turning off onto what looks like someone’s driveway, pedalling up a last bit of steep tarmac, we head through our first (of oh so many) gates leading uphill on a rugged trail. Full of enthusiasm we pedal hard wanting to ride every hill even though Keith has warned us it’s impossible. Panting and blowing at the top there’s a shout below from Keith, we’ve taken a wrong turn (and ridden the hill for no reason). Slightly cowed we turn around, me rolling squarely through some wet dog mess as we do, the pungent turd slathering my tyre and throwing up fumes as we descend.

Back on the track Keith points to a vertical bank of grass behind us. This is where we start pushing.

Any hopes I had of riding the whole way instantly drain away. The hill is monstrous. I’m pushing the bike vertically, using the brakes to stop us tumbling back in to oblivion whilst the sheep look on amused. It takes well over half an hour to reach the top, during which time it starts raining again. I also begin to regret packing quite so many flapjacks and all of my camping equipment as the bike weighs a ton.

As well as being mostly off road the route is also billed as a very respectable 95% ride-able which sounds wonderful until you realise that means that you will need to push/carry your bike for at least 5% of the time and at 108 miles long that’s still 5.4 miles of pushing. It feels like more, much more!

The route continues on soft grass, winding slowly uphill. The grass makes for hard going although it’s thankfully relatively dry. If really wet under wheel it would be exhausting. With blackening sky the day rolls on, the views are of dark sweeping hills and sheep. Many sheep. The aroma of dog shit is joined by the earthy tang of sheep poo which sprays up under wheel and coats pretty much everything. My mood is brightened somewhat when M starts shouting and cursing having gone to grab his water bottle and picked up a handful of steaming dung. Snigger.

The grassland is interspersed by a few gravel walking trails although most of the time we are heading across what look like sheep tracks. Keith’s doing a prime job of navigating even when we look at him askance as he send us away from a lovely gravel road down an invisible path in the grass.

The day passes in much the same way, grass trail across hills and gravel tracks, dipping through farm yards and climbing back out. It’s hard going but the views are spectacular and go someway to reminding you why you are putting yourself through this. At the end of a long day it’s a weary and subdued bunch however that hit the town of Rhayader to raid the Co-op shop before heading the final few miles to our campsite at Elan Oaks.

The site is off of pretty trailway and well set up….. for caravans. Camping seems to have been a bit of an afterthought as we push our bikes to a soggy field past a couple of sad porta-loos and outdoor sinks. True to form, just as we arrives the weather sticks 2 fingers up and starts raining hard as we pitch our tents.

The evening is saved however by the promise of hot food as we regroup in the Elan Valley Hotel across the road. I hang all my wet clothes out to dry in it’s near deserted dining room as the owner smiles tolerantly as he offers a menu and a place to charge my phone. I could have cried.

Over the years I’ve cycled a lot with camping gear, including off road through the mountains of Chile and Argentina, but today was tough. The boggy grass and precipitous hills were something else. To top it all off tonight was actually the last night of camping as we had booked rooms in a pub for the second (final) night of the trip.

It was then that I had a rare moment of genius….in true damsel in distress fashion I appealed to the owners of the pub to ask if we could perhaps leave our (sodden) camping gear with them tomorrow and collect it on the following day on our way home. I have never been so grateful as when they said yes!

An excellent meal with more copious amount of beer and wine left us all feeling good. Even the rain had let up for the walk back to the tent.

The trail: Day Two

Elan Valley to Llangurig

41 miles, 5220 feet of climbing

It can really psych you out when something is billed as ‘the toughest day’ and this was exactly how day two had been described. Now, day one had been tough so this was scary prospect. It would certainly the longest day in terms of miles and the most climbing and it dawned with a sense of trepidation….and the sound of rain lashing against the tent. Waiting and failing to find a break in the weather we de-camped and squelched over to the hotel for breakfast bearing armfuls of soggy camping gear. An hour later and it was with a huge sense of relief and a considerably lighter bike that we headed out, fortified by a large cooked breakfast and minus camping kit. Even the rain had stopped.

The Elan Valley is known as the Welsh Lake District, it covers 70 square miles of lakes and countryside and hosts 6 reservoirs built, not to provide water to locals, but to be shipped to the industrialised city of Birmingham hundreds of miles away to help cope with it’s exploding population.

Leaving the hotel, the trail quickly took us past the first reservoir before dropping down the side of a steep hill. Having missed the on road route we managed to improvise with a sheep track which plunged steeply down the side of a tall hill. Skidding down the rock strewn grass was certainly a good way to shake off the last bits of sleep.

A short pedal and then what goes down must inevitably go up again….and up….and up, a winding tarmac road until stretching out like a wall in front of us which was, Keith proudly informed us, Puke Hill. With an average gradient of nearly 15% it loomed ahead ominously.

The joy of mountain bikes however, over road bikes, is that they have a low ratio of gears of which I was incredibly glad. Coupled with the lack of camping gear my bike felt, if not lighter than air, then something approaching it.

Inch by inch I took on Puke Hill, pedalling and panting until, lungs screeching I topped out. Even if that killed me for the entire day it was worth it, with the added bonus of being able to get a photo of all 3 boys pushing up behind me.

And so the day went. The scenery and terrain differed markedly from day one, there was the inevitable same number of gates to open and close but aside from that the terrain, was varied, technical and wonderful.

After Puke Hill came a section of boulder-strewn undulating tracks full of rocks the size of sheep and traversed by the same. Technical climbing and descending whilst also ploughing through deep water-filled holes never knowing if you’d be just wetting the tyres or the entire bike. The track ended in the magnificent Claerwen dam (and a tarmac road which gave an easier option for arrival) before a steep push to head up and around the reservoir. The lee of it’s banks provided a sunny lunch stop, the rain having decided to take a well-earned day off.

Although rough under-wheel the reservoir tracks allowed us to pick up some speed and flow which continued when we hit the tarmac the other end. Being a roadie at heart I love a bit of tarmac and this was the best kind, smooth and near traffic free, long swoopy undulations, bordered by wild grasslands and lakes. The miles disappeared under-wheel in a way so different from the previous day, spirits soared along with the hawks we kept spotting. By the end of the road section we’d covered half of today’s miles relatively easily. We’d also acquired a new companion….a be-horned sheep’s skull, nicknamed Larry after the 1960’s children’s TV character, Larry the Lamb.

An off road climb next, through pine forest this time, the heady smell of warm sap accompanying us before some of the most beautiful, fast, flowing single track descents thorough the trees which left a permanent grin and many insects plastered across our faces.

Another winding valley road, this one with starker but no less stunning fauna, through abandoned mining stations and derelict houses until the sat nav kindly led us into someone else’s garden….no, not some random house after all but another trail leading up the steep side of the valley. Once a metalled road it had obviously long since fallen in to disuse but a funny strip of tarmac remained down the middle and it was on this we spent the next hour pushing and pedalling up in turn. The summit was a cold and windswept place with spectacular views and the partial descent back down into the sunshine a welcome relief if somewhat hair-raising, brake discs squealing in protest.

Two trails now presented at the bottom and sat-nav seemed unwilling to commit herself as to which one…. the left fork to a bridge which looked like it crossed into a boggy field and the right fork the beginnings of a gravel track into the woods. Both trails headed the way we needed to go, roughly in parallel, separated from each other by 2 small rivers.

Long story short, we chose the right. It should have been the left. It took us less than 10 minutes to discover our error but somehow the idea of retracing our steps seemed a stupid one, after all, they were only small rivers.

Step in Action Man…. as we stood debating the wisdom of trying to cross we were distracted by some loud crashing, splashing noises. Gary was in the river hauling around stones to make a walkway, he then proceeded to carry all our bikes one by one before helping us across. Same process for river number 2. Thirty minutes later we were standing, mostly dry on the other side of both bits of water and right next to the first path that we didn’t take. Somehow the sense of adventure completely outweighed the stupidity of a 10 minute back track.

Anticipation was with us now, it had been a long day but we were nearing the end and, weirdly, nowhere near as bad as anticipated. The last few miles were a steady climb through more sun-bathed fragrant pine forest before an undulating descent into the town of Llangurig. Happily sailing past the campsite on the outskirts of town, a short pedal later and we were pulling, tired, but elated into the car park of the Bluebell Inn our home for the night.

A welcome pint or several, a great meal and no camping. Winner.

The trail: Day Three

Llangurig to Machynllnth

31 miles, 3510 feet of climbing

Despite some serious crossing of fingers day 3 dawned drizzly, but as it was the last of our adventure, spirits were high and we were looking forward to finishing in style. Buoyed by our exertions of the last 2 days and still enjoying the relative freedom of the pared-down kit we fairly flew out of the pub car park, retracing our steps from yesterday for the first few miles to pick up the trail again.

Gates and more gates as we dripped along the edges of farmland before climbing again through fields of sheep and the inevitable poo.

I love sheep and the way they evaluate life and its potential dangers. Little clusters of them would watch us intensely for long minutes as we climbed steadily towards them getting to within feet before finally, one in the bunch would lose his nerve and dash off in panic. Of course the others followed suit but would get tangled up in themselves in their mad-hurry to get away in a noisy thrashing of woolly limbs, a little white tidal wave of bodies surging before us everywhere we went, 0 to 60 mph panic in seconds.

Back to the trail. The rain and mist intensified and for the first time long trousers came out (at least for me) as the temperature dropped. Gaining altitude over the whole morning we squelched across bleak, treeless fields before coming to a loose, slate-covered downhill of narrow single track which Keith was now recalling from the previous journey. It was very gingerly that we scooted and slid our way down the precipitous, shifting slate path, a grass bank towering to our right, a steep drop to the left. It was with some relief that we skidded to a stop at the bottom in one piece only to faced with an equally vertiginous push up the other side.

And the sketchy trails didn’t end there, another cold and windswept area of grassland led to another cliff-like valley edge and more hair-raising single track descents. It required all my concentration and bike handling skills (what little I possess) to navigate the steep downhill slopes of tumbling, loose shale. The panniers’ weight on the rear of the bike added an extra flavour of spice as did the constantly shifting floor beneath your wheels. The only solution was to keep rolling and, in amongst the fear, adrenaline and total concentration there was a huge buzz at the speed and thrill of careening down the hillside, barely in control but flying.

Our brakes were literally smoking at the bottom on the hillside as the pace steadied and we once again hit the tarmac. There was no respite from the hills or the rain however, steep steep climbs on legs that already felt they had cycled far to many miles and we were all feeling the burn and having to dig deeper and deeper on each climb.

After a significant amount of upwards mobility we reached a literal and metaphorical fork in the road. Previously when Keith, our erstwhile planner had gotten to this point during his trip he’d been in severe danger of missing his train home so had had to bail out of the last section and opt for a sprint down the road to the station some 6 miles away. We of course had that option now, to be kind to tired, wet and weary bodies and do the same or……

Bugger, everyone voted to continue the trail. Of course we did, it was only 8 miles after all, just over that ridge over there……!

For the next hour we toiled up a never ending series of steep inclines, first an energy-sucking grassy track followed by a narrow ridge line so steep we were pushing near vertically, struggling for footholds. I was incredibly glad I’d offloaded my stuff but that was the only happy thought that sprang to mind as we cursed and squelched and pushed our way up the ridge, lashed by rain and sliding and stumbling over the rocky ground. Finally reaching the top M announced that, after all that, we’d only covered a measly half a mile, I could have cried.

The only way was down however, via a fast and hair-raising descent along muddy, slippery single track, punctuated by large rocks and larger potholes. I’m going far too fast but so cold and tired now I just want to finish until…. we’re lost. We can vaguely see the direction we want to take through the mist but every path we take the sat-nav says we’re off course unless…. we push up again…..another steep, soggy hillside, another muddy slippery descent and we’re still off course although vaguely in the right direction.

Breaking out google maps we take stock and take shelter from the driving rain. Despite the GPS insisting we’re off course it does at least look like the forest trail we’re now on will get us to a road which will get us to our final destination. A look and a silent agreement passes between us and as one we charge off, bolting down fire-trails and eventually, joyfully finding the road. As it turns out we’re only a mile or so from the original exit point and a soaking speedy dash brings us shivering into Machynllnth, our planned final destination.

Officially the trail ends at Dovey Junction but we’d have to retrace our steps to this point anyway and none of us feels like we’ve missed out. It’s lashing down now and too wet to take a finishing photo as M’s camera has gotten waterlogged and wisely, there are no people about to ask so we squelch to the nearest pub where we are viewed with suspicion as we drip mud, sheep poo and water on their clean floor.

A change of clothes and a coffee is all we manage before thankfully the amazing bike taxi arrives to whisk us back to Kinghton, which feels like hundreds of days ago, not just 3.

Reflecting on the way back to the taxi, trying to ignore the smell of wet, sweaty cycle-wear, I look back on what has been an amazing trip. The scenery and the terrain have both been varies to look at and ride through, demanding and exhilarating. It feels like an achievement and, even more, a real adventure, which at a total distance of 107 miles with nearly 13,000 feet of climbing I can safely say it was.

Would I recommend it, certainly, would I do it again…..hmm ask me later!

In short, what there’s much of:

Gates

Sheep poo

Windmills, forests of them.

Water….. if you’re lucky enough to escape the rain there are still plenty of fords and deep puddles to soak you.

Pushing up hills/hike a bike

Technical single track, climbs and descents, plus a huge variety of scenery, trails and terrain.

Miles, smiles and a sense of adventure.

What there’s not much of:

Spare Oxygen – all used up on climbing!

Shops or humans, once you’re on the trail there’s no nipping to the supermarket for a mars bar. The same when seeking help for injuries or mechanicals problems.

Phone signal, as above. I wouldn’t fancy riding this one alone.

Traffic

Signage, take a good sat-nav/GPS device

For more information on the trail see here

Final thanks go to Keith, Action Man, M and Larry, the best bunch to get muddy and go adventuring with! 

Waterproof socks!

Mountain Bike Touring: The Trans-Cambrian Trail It started with just a small innocuous advert on the message board of my mountain bike club....."planning a trip, anyone interested in bike touring get in touch".

[whatsunderneathme-blog1]

Day 2

It's pretty funny how life works. I feel like I'm good at it some days. Others not so much. It feels like everyday is a game. Like whoever the fuck claims, "you win some and you lose some" was spot on. Sometimes I wish I had some sort of cheat sheet to it, like when I was a kid, I would use one of those for GTA. There was a "ladies' man" cheat one where all the CPU women would always come lurking towards you. I would drive an ambulance and they would just hop in, filling the seats to max capacity. Then I would drive them to an alley where I would beat them with a baseball bat until they died so I could take their money. Yeah, maybe I shouldn't do that in real life, but you get the point. Cheating. Real life shit. Cheating may seem fun. Maybe when it applies to the people who truly seek it out. But not me. Cheating is a lot like fire. It destroys. Literally everything. Which brings me to my next topic.

It's pretty funny how life works. After my "big move" to Maryland this takes place. Well, summer was over pretty quickly for me. I mean, hey, I moved to this lovely place in July... the time when makeup is not an option. And don't attempt to even do up your hair, because it's going to evolve into some sort of fuzz ball. Especially when your hair hits your waist. So yeah, no to straightening. I spent most of my days either in my Aunts office, running, or drinking the Budweiser or Molson Canadian out on the water in my bikini. Which of course revealed my lovely inverted cross. Not really appealing to the church-goers of "southern" Marylanders. Kinda reminds me that I regret doing that.

October. 2018. I was involved in the FD pretty often. I was also heavily involved in my EMT class. But this took place on a lonely evening in my room. No, not that kind of fun. But the kind where you contemplate your social life and join something called Tinder. Great move on my end, because *spoiler alert*. I met the love of my life. No, like really. The kind where you literally want to just cry a bunch of fucking tears because you're so happy you can't sit right with yourself. That came out wrong. Lol. The good kind of hyper. But it didn't really go my way for a while. I ended up super-liking this bitch. Like I wanted to swipe right 1000000 times. He looked just my type. Had his shit together. Even listened to the same music as me. My inner little girl that had a list made up titled "Dream Husband" was screaming on the inside. Tall. Dark hair. Light eyes. Talked a bit and things were awesome as fuck. LOL. He even stood me up the first time we were supposed to hang out. I had invited him over to my house to have some beers and chill. Well, he had another idea... to cancel on me. But I won't make it seem that depressing. I mean, I didn't think at the time he was actually going to keep me in his life since he was leaving the state soon. I would give more information regarding that so y'all could have like a better idea of things, but this shit is public, so my EMT self is saying "errr, HIPPA violation"? Yeah, I'll go with that. HIPPA violation. But the time frame of him leaving was coming up. Sooooo I sent his ass a nude. I know, I know, not very classy of me.. but with most things, fuck it. Why not. And damn right, you guessed it.. Yep, like most men, that caught his eye. He fell hook, line, and sinker into that one. Ladies, throw some VS lingerie on and you're golden. Maybe straighten your hair a lil bit. So, one night, him and his roommate (maybe it was that night), he came to see me at work. I'm a server. Perfect opportunity. He wasn't sat in my section, thank god. But the two of them sat at Booth #2. He ordered the Mac n Cheese. Excellent choice. Our whole menu has amazing food, so he couldn't really make a bad decision. But I'm not judging. Pasta is my thing. Okay maybe I'm judging. Or maybe it's weird that I remembered what he ordered to eat. I'll just blame the OCD. But now that I'm writing all this, I kinda want to fast forward. No disrespect, I love the man.. but I could write about him all day. Probably not stop. Let's skip to what I don't want to write about. Maybe it will make me feel better... getting it off my chest. I'm really thankful that there's someone sitting in the radio room (what we call the room with the two computers) at the station. I live here, don't know if I really mentioned that in the start. The reason why I mention why I'm thankful someone is in here, is because I'm more put together. Not crying... hysterically. I do that. A lot. When I'm alone mostly. So let's get on with it.

Now. March. Almost time for April to hit. It's pretty funny how life works. Well, for me, I fuck up a lot. I mean, probably a lot more than most. I mean, I dislocated my fucking shoulder today just stretching after my run. Who does that shit? Me apparently. FYI typing this shit hurts. But I enjoy it. So you see, I try my best to separate my logical and emotional mind. Sometimes one takes over and confuses the other. My therapist taught me this. The really cool one. Well, not so cool when she made me go through my past. That's another conversation. What I'm trying to get at is, well, my emotional mind is really taking over at this point. Maybe I spoke too soon when I said that my depression was gone. Maybe I didn't say that in 'the start'. But sometimes, certain things just kinda trigger it. So, me and the Tinder guy (sorry, bf, ily, but that's what I'm referring to you as, just out of respect) have been dating for almost 6 months now. Well, he isn't in MD right now, he's out doing his lil career thing. So I made a really, really, really, really, really, really x1000000 stupid mistake. You can probably guess. I got stupid drunk at a formal event and.. *see paragraph 1, line 9, only word italicized. Find it. You get it. Before that night, my biggest regret was stealing from a mentally challenged girl in middle school. Swiped that 20-dollar bill from her small backpack zipper like it was a golden Wonka wrapper. In my middle school brain, I justified it by blaming her- she should've zipped her shit up, right? But what the fuck was I thinking? I knew that night, when I handed the older skater boy I liked a pack of Cowboy Killer's with that 20 that what I had done was wrong. And guess what? I still think about that. I still haven't forgiven myself. She missed her bus because of me. The girl I fucking stole from was stranded because of me. She had no money. God knows how that girl got home. AND she's mentally challenged. I can picture her now, with her big frown that matched her uneven glasses. And my happy ass just walked 0.6 miles to my house. A street over from my middle school. It makes me fucking sick to my core to think I could ever do something like that to someone so innocent. That night, everything changed. That night is, you fucking bet... my biggest regret. And the worst thing is, I can't run from it. Every single day I want to break the mirror I look into, or hope that the mirror would just miraculously shatter because it doesn't like what it sees. You don't want to know what I feel. The man that I love is suffering because of what I did. Even though I'm an atheist, I will admit, within this month I have broken down so many times on my hands and knees, praying that the pain I've caused won't cause us to separate. I have wandered aimlessly in the night so the thoughts won't develop into something darker. Because I'm not afraid to admit that I struggle from time to time wondering what the fuck I'm doing with myself. I have never wanted someone to forgive me so bad. So next time you have the opportunity to count your blessings, fucking do it. Do it every fucking minute you can. Because the choices you make can really hurt others. And you can risk losing the ones you never thought you could if you're not lucky. I may put on this badass face, like I am so strong I could take on anything, but truth is, I still am hoping one day that I can go to bed without having a night terror, sleep without my fucking IKEA teddy bear named Evgeni, or to just close my eyes and try to wipe away the lies I've piled on like a large campfire to hide the ashes- the trauma I've gone through. I'm dying to live that normal life. Deep down underneath me is like a glass bottle, but it's broken. And you know who helped me heal? That Tinder guy. That man would do anything for me. That man treats me with respect. With every I love you he says to me, my heart forgives me. My head feels right at home with him, erases those horrible things my father told me, grabs the loaded shotgun my father forced to the back of my head when I was 11, breaks the hands of those that vandalized me when I was 17, 18, 19, and 22 years old, unplugs the 400 degree flat iron I used to burn my face all those years from the constant sexual torment. I don't know whether the correct term is that I was a damaged child or if I maybe just had the worst luck, but there are things people in general should not have to endure. I was innocent at one point, but that dissipated at such a young age. I only had me. And honestly, I was never able to tell the truth about those things because I was always silenced. But this man, listens to me with open ears. And for the first time in my life, I heard something I've never heard someone say. And he was exactly right. SO fucking right. It sounded something along the lines of, "You can't run from your problems. You can't just keep moving states every time there's a problem thinking it will solve them because it will just catch up to you".

He is someone I DO want for the rest of my life. The touch of his skin on mine hushes and tucks away all those memories to bed. That man has listened to me speak more than any man has. I smile until the small dimples on my left cheek poke out. Since that man has come into my life, I never realized what true love really felt like. I didn't realize how gentle it feels on the heart. It courses through me like the ocean waves fall through the sand trenches I used to build when I was an innocent little girl in her one-piece, kissed with a sunburn. It feels invigorating, even better than the feeling I get when I step on the ice rink with my freshly sharpened blades. It's the moment when he first let me rest my abnormally freezing feet softly against his, tucked in between his legs when we slept. Because even though it wasn't comfortable to him, he only cared about what I needed in that moment. I have only ever wanted acceptance, normalcy. I am okay on my own. But he makes life, life. When flowers are left out in the rain, they don't do well. They need three things: water, sun, oxygen. See, I have two. 1. The rain- the sadness. 2. The air that I breathe, the most key thing to being human, obviously. But in my life, the sun only shines when I'm out on the ice, playing hockey. It's like I was doing okay, but I had been waiting for that one thing I had been missing. 3. The sun. He is that. I feel like that flower that lives graciously, with fresh, new petals that grow each day. I feel important in the world. Even more than I ever have. That's what I feel. It's like all this love consumes me. I smile more. Laugh more. I feel beautiful. Alive. Alive. Alive. Isn't it funny how life works?

*refer to the last ¶, first line, the words that can create a reply - and stand out.

I love you,

All my heart,

L.