#and what the hell are raisins doing in a salad???

[reputayswift]

Just lol’d thinking about “Rory tells me you’re part of the 😍✨WAL-mart✨😍 corporation 😲 They sound like wonderful stores <333” “yeah I wanna be buried there 🤕🍴🍇🥗” again

#and what the hell are raisins doing in a salad??? #why can’t people leave well enough alone…😮‍💨 #Gilmore girls #tays takes

[ms-demeanor]

Why don't you just... Eat rice? Why bread?

It's a lot harder to turn on the rice cooker at 3am and wait half an hour for rice to cook than it is to just put two pieces of bread in the toaster.

I just had rice for lunch. And I had rice pasta for lunch and dinner the last two days. And I had rice for dinner-lunch-dinner last friday to saturday. And I had potato salad for lunch on friday.

The thing is that it gets a bit monotonous, and sometimes you maybe want some buttered bread to go with your pasta dish and sometimes you maybe just want bread.

Like, there are a lot of hacks out there for what to do when you can't eat bread. "make your sandwiches on rice cakes!!!!" "make a lettuce wrap!!!!!" "make a salad instead of a sandwich!!!!!!" "hollow out a cucumber and put your filling inside of it!!!!!" but also all those hacks kind of suck.

When I was a kid there was a tea parlor we used to go to that had this curry chicken salad with golden raisins and chopped onions and almonds. I made some to share with my dad while he was in town. The tea parlor used to serve it on warm croissants and it was wonderful. It is literally impossible to make gluten-free croissants (the dough won't be elastic enough to laminate properly) so I was hoping to just have some chicken salad on sandwich bread. And yeah it's fine to eat by itself and I mean okay I had it with potato chips but I didn't want chicken salad on potato chips (or rice), I wanted a chicken salad sandwich.

I can eat (certified gluten free) oatmeal and rice and rice pasta and potatoes and stuff but all of that takes a lot more time than putting some cream cheese and lemon curd on a gluten free bagel and also it's not my go-to so it took me a while to recognize that I was starting to get the low-carb brain fog.

But also because rice does not enable my depraved regency habits. Sometimes I want to eat off of a paper towel in my car, not out of a bowl, you know?

It's also super depressing to be locked out of your staple foods and the foods you grew up with. Last night Large Bastard had a grilled cheese with tomato soup for dinner. I had pasta. I've got a big jar of peanut butter that *yes* i can eat with yogurt and bananas and *yes* I can put into oatmeal (and I do those things pretty regularly) but it doesn't do me much good if I want to pack a couple PB&J sandwiches for a hike.

But also it's a bummer because I already did this. I already learned the discreet way to bring food I can eat to family events or what I can eat ahead of time that means I won't get hungry or which places I can go after an event to quickly get something to eat. Convenience food is convenient! Do you know what it's like to go backpacking when you can't eat any of the standard backpacking food? It's homemade trail mix for days, but I did also like to pack a single serving of spam and two slices of bread. If I go to a conference it's extremely standard for me to pack two loaves of bread that I can eat and a jar of peanut butter and a jar of jam so that there will be *something* in the room that I can eat quickly or pack quickly and carry with me. Bread is the easiest way to ensure that I don't end up living off mostly fruit and kind bars if I'm going out.

Hell, I used to bring my bread along to in-n-out because both the flying dutchman and the protein-style lettuce wrap are SIGNIFICANTLY INFERIOR to just using actual bread. (Lettuce wraps suck. I've been eating them for years and I'm ready to call it. Lettuce wraps are how you make a hamburger instantly cold and get it to taste vaguely like dirt. Could I eat lettuce-wrap tacos? Yes. Do I want 'the poor person's endive boat but put carne asada in it'? No. If I wanted something wrapped in leaves I would get dolmas like a reasonable person because at least those are soaked in oil)

And at this point I would prefer to have a proven gluten-free bread recipe that I can make reliably and that does not suck, but the last few times I've tried to make g-free bread (like, a loaf of bread, not flatbread or bannock or quickbreads) it has not gone well and I would *love* to experiment but at the moment my oven isn't getting hotter than 250fah so it's not really bread-capable at the moment. I have some recipes I'd like to try, but they will require a functional oven.

I know *how* to get enough carbs without bread, it just requires forethought and planning and I don't want forethought and planning, I don't want to get up an hour early to make good oatmeal, I want some cocoa almond spread on a piece of toast.

Also trader joe's recently discontinued the macaroni and cheese that I used to get and the version that Aldi has sucks and is more expensive and the version that Annie's has doesn't *suck* but isn't what I want and is MUCH more expensive and of course I can make macaroni (or, let's be real, penne or rotini because finding rice-only macaroni is a fucking chore) and cheese but it takes literal hours and also requires an oven.

IDK bud you caught me at a bad time because I'm extremely sad that the gluten-free diet fad is passing and that my local grocery stores got rid of their gluten-free sections in the past year and the foods that I was eating are getting discontinued or are out of stock and the thought of having to become an extremely good baker (because good gluten-free bread is HARD) or just eat rice forever is a downer. I already cook so, so much of the food that I eat from scratch that I don't want to do more hours of cooking each week - I spend probably six hours baking or cooking on on saturdays and sundays and then another one to two hours cooking on weeknights and you may recognize that as approximately equivalent to a part-time job *just to keep myself fed on a reasonable budget, and it obviously isn't all that reasonable a budget if I'm spending ten to twenty hours a week on it* and the thought of doing more of that because there's a shortage of corn-free baking powder or something is the kind of invisible disability burden that goes tremendously under-discussed and kind of makes me insane.

I mean fuck if we want to talk about the social model of disability accessible food options for people with allergies and autoimmune conditions is a great example that never gets brought up and it is really difficult to emphasize that "trader joe's $5 rice bread" versus "udi's $10 equivalent rice bread" versus "2-3 additional baking hours a week" versus "just change your go-to quick meals and accept that you eat hamburgers with a fork" has a lot of possible outcomes that reduce my quality of life.

And that sounds stupid to say. "A company stopped carrying a product and it reduced my quality of life."

But first off it's not one company and not one product and when it's not just "white sandwich bread" but it's "white sandwich bread, macaroni and cheese, frozen empanadas, chocolate chip cookies, lasagna noodles, rice cereal, sorgum beer, rice rotini, canned chicken, ginger cookies, almond flour muffins, split pea soup, vegetarian chili, mushroom risotto" and on and on it gets exhausting and depressing and losing access to a significant number of convenience food and easy meals DOES fuck with your quality of life.

You know what my easy "I'm tired because we're moving and I'm broke so I can't go buy fresh groceries" meal was for the last three years? Scrambled eggs and toast.

Until the last two months I probably had scrambled eggs and toast once or twice a week since the pandemic started.

You know what's not as easy as that? Any rice dish. You know what it got replaced with? Cereal. Or nothing.

I know that having chocolate rice crisps (or nothing) for dinner once a week isn't actually ideal. That's part of why I spend eight to twelve hours cooking on weekends - so I'll have a big vat of rice or potato based soup that I can have leftovers of for lunch through the week and probably get dinner out of for a couple nights too.

But sometimes you're a little tired of the chicken and rice soup that you are eating for nine meals out of twenty one and it would be nice to have some scrambled eggs and toast.

So, basically, the bread is load-bearing in terms of making me a quasi-functional human being and it isn't going to break me and I'm going to be able to put something else there to shore up the deficit but I am going to complain the whole time.

[tf2-oneshots]

hello! can i request a soldier x spy fic that spy takes soldier to go on a victory date because they won over the blue team and they go to a Really fancy restaurant and solly get embarrassed that he doesn’t know how to use fancy forks and spoons and spy helps him out, spy not getting frustrated with solly lake of knowledge on all the fancy stuff and in the end enjoying their meal (sorry for being a long request i just NEED more content of them and Thank you very much in advance!!!)

Never be sorry for long requests!! You have no IDEA how much i love these goofballs

Warnings: none!

Rating: General

His collar is itchy. His blazer is sweaty. His shoes are too tight. Soldier gives his tie a gentle tug, hoping to loosen it enough for him to breathe. He looks down to his arm where Spy linked hers. He looks so graceful. Every step in her heels is smooth as if he’s worn them hundreds of times. He probably has actually. The same goes for her dress. A smooth burgundy that hugs her figure down to the knees. Beneath it, a pair of nude stockings sit upon shaved legs.

The waiter guides them to their table. Soldier does his best to squeeze through the sea of tables despite the strange look. The waiter probably doesn’t realize that Soldier is, well, a soldier! He knew taking off his helmet was a bad idea. Even if Spy knows, it’s not enough for Jane. What good are his medals if he never shows them?

“We’ll start with salads.” Even her words are graceful. Soldier looks around, trying to make sense of the whole restaurant. It’s Italian, which explains the strange decorations. It should be American themed with flags and steaks!

“Is everything alright, Jane?” Spy looks up from her menu. His red lipstick shines in the low lighting. How the hell is anyone meant to look at the menu let alone see?

“I am perfectly fine!” A few odd looks. Damnit, too loud. Soldier lowers his head, focused on the menu. Where are the pictures? What the hell is ‘mersalsa’? If anything, he can point to something random and hope for the best. That usually works.

Soldier glances at the glasses of wine poured for them. He grabs the neck with his fist, which makes Spy raise her brow. Okay, maybe just his thumb and index? No, that’s not it. Damnit, how does Spy do it again?

“I’m surprised to see you interested in wine, mon étoile.” Spy can’t count the number of times he watched Soldier guzzle cans of beer. Certainly enough for him to wind up blackout drunk, and naked, in the common room. A traumatic sight for a very unfortunate Scout.

“I like wine. It tastes…good.” He takes a sip, resisting the urge to gag. Damn thing tastes like rotten grapes. How can Spy sip it so easily? Soldier watches her drink and quickly fixes how he holds the wine glass. Its a shock that his big, meaty hand didn’t shatter the thin glass.

Their salads finally arrive. Soldier isn’t sure why it has little red things that look like raisins, but he doesn’t mention it. He unrolls the silverware only to see three forks, four spoons, and two knives. Soldier reaches for the middle fork. No, wait, the one on the left. The biggest fork has to be for the main course, right? So its the tiny one, or is that the dessert fork?

As Spy bites into her cranberry salad, he notices the turmoil Soldier is in. His hand hovers over the forks, and the spoons for a brief minute, struggling to pick the one for salads. Her hand lays atop his, guiding him to the middle one.

“That one, dearest.” Soldier thanks her and finally begins eating. He tries to shovel massive clumps of lettuce into his mouth, but Spy clears her throat. He takes the smaller knife, demonstrating how to cut into their starter before taking a bite.

Soldier wants to beat the crap out of whoever made so many different types of utensils. He gives a grumble, trying to cut the lettuce without shaking the table. He’s not trying to be so brutish, but its all he knows! How can Spy do this with every meal? They should just get rid of forks and only use hands like nature intended!

“Jane, I don’t mind if you don’t know which one to use.” Their empty plates are set aside. Soldier tries to relax, but his shirt is one slouch away from bursting open. He grabs one of the rolls from the basket, ripping it in half only to groan. He’s supposed to use a knife! Is he even allowed to pick it up with a bare hand?

“I wanted to impress you. I know you like fancy men, but I learned my manners in the trenches.” Meaning Soldier would roll around in abandoned war zones and pray he didn’t step on a landmine. Would be fun now since he has respawn, but not so much as a 10 year old digging for free memorabilia.

“I’m not dating you for your manners. I’m dating you because I love you.” Spy reaches over, cupping his face affectionately. The two share a kiss, and Spy does the unthinkable. He takes a dinner roll and rips it in half like a barbaric animal. Soldier laughs, raising one of his halves like a glass and clinking it against Spy’s.

While not a perfect man, nor one with refined taste in any way, Soldier is a good lover. Spy doesn’t mind his improper ways of eating or the amount of sauce that managed to stain his mouth. She loves Soldier, flaws and all. Even if they get a few side eyes during dinner. He can always stab anyone that gives them trouble.

Need me a girl like Spy -H

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 requests #tf2 spy #tf2 soldier #freedom fries #soldierspy

[tim-official]

How do you make a good salad? I been trying to eat healthier and this could help!

ive gotten so good at this oh you have no idea.. my bf is a master chef of salad

a salad is a bowl of texture with a sauce that makes the texture taste good

put as many things as you can in there. just nothing soft. doesn't have to have much lettuce. possibilities: cucumber, cherry tomatoes, zucchini (raw), red onion, green onion, carrots, bell peppers, broccoli, broccoli stem, kohlrabi, cauliflower, cooked root vegetables (raw or pickled beets are really good if you cut them very thin). You don't even need lettuce or any leafy green (their main purpose is to be rough and ragged and hold a lot of dressing compared to, like, a cucumber slice)! Just make a bowl of texture!

fruit is good too, for tartness and sweetness. apple slices, dried cranberries, raisins. my secret weapon: dried figs. not too expensive and you only need a few. slice them up. if you can find fresh herbs for not-crazy expensive, those are flavor bombs. throw a sprig of dill in there. or basil.

protein in the form of meat or tofu if you want it. not required

invest in a big thing of nuts (walnuts work well, relatively cheap) and some kind of crumbly cheese (feta is ideal bc cheap, blue if you like stinky). get them at costco if you can. sprinkle just a little of both on top. if you have tortilla chips / potato chips lying around sprinkle some on too. it makes a difference. you get occasionally nutty or cheesy bites. variety. it's exciting and dynamic

the dressing: make your own if you can. make a big batch and keep it in the fridge. a decent "house" dressing is: one part honey, one part red wine vinegar, one part white wine vinegar, one part olive oil. add peanut butter OR tahini (my favorite, seriously, it's magic - not a lot, just a little) for a nice creaminess. other good dressings, search them, there's many recipes: white miso dressing (my personal favorite out of all i've tried), greek yogurt dressing, various takes on "dragon bowl dressing" (based around nutritional yeast and tahini), roasted red pepper dressing (grinding up canned roasted red peppers into a paste) or a really simple balsamic vinegar dressing (balsamic + olive oil + mustard + some source of sweetness). ranch also exists

final life hack: toss the salad before you make it, with the dressing. then move it into the bowl you'll eat it from. when you pour it like this, the smallest bits (crunchy stuff) that was on the bottom of the first bowl after being tossed end up on the top of the salad. i take this very seriously.

tim this seems expensive

it can be, especially upfront. the condiments i have available to me are like 5 types of vinegar, nice olive oil, miso, mirin, tahini, peanut butter, nuts, cheese, nutritional yeast. all those together, most bought from costco, probably cost about 175 bucks but last for many months. thing about a good salad is that you need a great many items but only a tiny amount of each of them.

as for fresh veggies. i get mine from a farm co-op. i go pick them up once a week for 33 bucks, they're fresh-picked and i swear it's like 60 dollars worth of veggies if i got them at the store because i live in quebec and veggies have always been fucking expensive up here. (only problem, if you're a picky eater or have dietary constraints, is you can't always choose what you get). i eat them every meal and still struggle to finish them by the time the next week rolls around. a lot of places have excess produce programs that are similar.

so for me, now, it's cost-effective because i'm eating salads like every day and i have a huge variety so I never get bored. but I had to commit. I only go grocery shopping for, like, condiments, chips, eggs, milk, cream, rice. and I don't eat a ton of meat.

obviously this is not accessible to everyone, because Hell World and food deserts and subsidies for grain only. i didn't even mention the labor of cleaning + chopping all these things. but hopefully this gives you an idea of what you could do with what you have. (you do not, as i do, need to own five types of vinegar.)

#food #salad post #wow i wrote a fucking lot huh

[valarhalla]

People have been nagging me to share “the curry story” on here for ages, so alright, I’ll do it. (If you’re Indian and reading this, I am so sorry).

I swear to god, everything I am about to say in this story is true.

When I was eleven, I moved to a small town in rural England and acquired a new best friend at school. Her at that point seemingly-very-normal-parents- nice suburban house, three kids, trampoline in the backyard- invited me over for dinner, and said they were making curry and rhubarb crumble.

“Curry and rhubarb crumble”. Never in the history of mankind have words been so untrue.

The “curry” consisted of, I swear I am not making this up, a vague mixture of * deep breath, oatmeal, tofu sausages, corn, tomato juice, chopped onions, raisins, “leftover broccoli leaves”, kale, and scrambled eggs. The only spice in it was the tiniest smidgen of turmeric. All these ingredients were vaguely stirred together, undercooked, and stuck under a broiler for ten minutes. 

They gave me a massive portion. I somehow, I still don’t know how, was polite enough to finish it.

“I’m done,” I said.

“No,” said her father. “In this house, we LICK our plates clean.”

He did. They didn’t make me hold it up and lick it like they all did, but they did make me clean the plate with a piece of bread and my fork until they were satisfied.

Desert came. The rhubarb crumble was entirely unsweetened. Not so much as a raisin. I can’t remember what the crumble part was, because my mind is still haunted by the memory of being forced to eat an entire bowl of unsweetened rhubarb. You know in old Looney Tunes when characters would be tricked into eating allum and their heads would shrink? That’s what eating it felt like. They made me clean my bowl of that too, and wouldn’t let me leave the table until I finished. 

The next time, (I was in middle school and as yet too polite to turn down my best friend’s parents) they made “spaghetti and meatballs and salad”. The spaghetti was utterly plain and so undercooked it was crunchy, the “meatballs” consisted of a single large orb of some grey material i have yet to identify, and the salad was, i shit you not, limp boiled lettuce. Crunchy spaghetti, unidentified lumpy grey stuff, and boiled lettuce.

The fascinating thing is that, while yes, these people were obviously health nuts, it was so much more than that. They were health nuts who also cooked like aliens who had never seen human food before. Or like small children making “potions”. One of the more edible things they served to me once was a dessert they made up which consisted of halved apples rolled in cornflour with some milk poured on top. One time, they were convinced to make pizza as a treat. They decided to put an onion on it. Fair and fine, you’d think. Not in that house. They just cut the onion in half once, and stuck each unchopped half facedown on one side of the pizza.

Speaking of onions, one time, my friend decided to make a banana and yoghurt smoothie. Her dad came in, said it wasn’t healthy enough, and made her add an onion to it.

They had a homemade cereal I thankfully was able to opt out of trying which 100% looked like the contents of a vacuum bag. I still have no idea what it contained.

Amazingly, it was by no means just me who experienced this. It was a small town, and every girl in it my age had a selection of horror stories about being invited to dinner at this friend’s house in the exact same ritualistic horror-film fashion. We used to sit around comparing them at sleepovers. Age did not exempt you. One time, this friend’s six year old brother had a friend over for dinner at the same time, poor soul. His mom arrived to pick him up, and wasn’t allowed to take him home until he finished whatever crime against cooking was on the menu that night. 

Every story was the same. The ritual that never varied. Every time, these people would make a huge fanfare out of inviting you over for dinner, act all hospitable and excited, set the table, and then serve you a massive helping of the worst food in the world, and make you clean your plate of it, desert included. Who the hell forces you to finish your DESERT?

It’s a mystery to me. They clearly had SOME degree of self-awareness, because after I came to my senses and started coming up with excuses to avoid eating at their house they would tease me saying things like “ohoho, you don’t like LIKE our food do you”. If they had been a bit more fun and less generally puritanical sort of people, I could totally believe this was a family trolling activity where they secretly schemed to come up with the worst possible dishes, secretly filmed themselves forcing people to eat them and watched it and laughed afterwards, I could believe it.

All I’m saying is I’m pretty sure they weren’t aliens, but the more I type this out, the more tempted I am to believe it. Fuck it, maybe they WERE aliens.

[jessbakescakes]

@twwobsessed​ asked for either 89. I noticed or 90. you can tell me anything from this post..

I accidentally deleted the ask, sorry! 

This one spans across the series... it also got way longer than I anticipated. Oops?

“Want some chips?”

Donna looks to her left to find Josh holding out a bag of barbecue potato chips he insisted on getting from the store across the street before they loaded up the bus to South Carolina. “Thanks,” she says, taking a couple from the bag. 

“Take as many as you want. It’ll probably be a little bit before we can stop to get something to eat, and we didn’t get a chance to eat lunch.” He places the bag between them, but doesn’t so much as reach for the chips again.

~*~

“Pizza’s here!” CJ announces, dropping several pizza boxes on the table in the center of the room. 

Josh tosses his pen on his notepad. “What did you get? I’ll grab it for you.”

Donna looks up from her note cards. “Oh, no, I didn’t get anything.”

“What? Why?”

She thinks back to the intern who came around asking for everyone’s orders about an hour ago, and the excuse she gave him. The Massachusetts Democratic Party catered a lunch with a sandwich spread; she told the intern that she was still full from lunch, but Josh would see right through that. He sat right next to her while she ate half a turkey sub and a just-this-side-of-stale oatmeal raisin cookie before they were ready to head to their next meeting. 

The truth, of course, is that she’s made a pretty big dent in her already modest savings account since rejoining the campaign. Her parents, in an attempt to impart some financial wisdom upon her during her teen years, had declared that half of each paycheck from whatever after school or summer job she held at the time was to be deposited into a savings account. She managed to make it all this time without having to dip into it; selling her car and sleeping on the floor had made it easier to stretch her limited budget. But it won’t last forever.

Before she can answer, CJ interrupts, calling out everyone’s orders. “Looks like we have some breadsticks on top, here, and some wings… here’s a cheese pizza for Kevin McCallister over there,” CJ says, motioning toward Josh as she opens the box, places it beside the stack, then closes the lid. 

“Hey now, Donna and I are splitting this pizza, I wanted to make her feel at home,” Josh retorts, grabbing a plate and handing it to Donna before pulling two slices of pizza out of the box CJ just abandoned. 

Donna turns to Josh. “I’m fine, Josh, really.”

“Donna,” he says, grabbing her hand and pulling her up from her seat.

“I don’t want to eat your food.” Josh gives her a pointed look, and she lets out a sigh. “How much do I owe you?”

Josh laughs. “What’s mine is yours, Donnatella.” He places his hand at the small of her back and ushers her toward the pizza box. “Eat.”

~*~

They manage to find a 24 hour diner in Little Rock two weeks before the convention. When their server approaches, everyone’s either staring blankly at their menus or engaged in subdued conversation. They were already tired, but they were pulling hours even longer than normal due to what should have been a minor PR snafu turned media beast that just wouldn’t die. 

Josh had gotten Leo to agree to bring Donna on as a salaried member of the campaign once the Governor was no longer the presumptive nominee, but the official nominee; all Donna needed to do was make her last few dollars stretch as far as possible for just a little longer. Her stomach growls loudly as the server moves next to Josh.

“I’ll have the chicken and waffles,” Josh starts, handing the server his menu and sliding Donna’s toward him. “She’ll have an omelette with spinach and feta.”

By the time she opens her mouth to protest, the server’s gone and Josh is listening intently to whatever it is Sam is saying to his left.

~*~

“I’m just saying,” Josh starts, putting his half-eaten box of Chinese food on the table in the Mural Room, “if Thompson thinks Braun and Miller will pull out, we need to plan for that now.”

“You really think they’ll do that?” Toby asks. 

Josh nudges the container toward Donna. “I do. At least, that’s what Braun was hinting at earlier. I don’t know what the hell that guy’s up to; he’s harder to read than any woman I’ve ever dated.”

Donna reaches for the food and peeks inside, noticing that it’s honey garlic chicken - her favorite.

~*~

“I think you’re not giving theoretical physics enough of a chance,” Josh insists. “I think you have some weird, unfair bias against it.”

Donna holds out her hand and takes the wrapper to Josh’s chicken sandwich. “Well, considering physics was the only class I ever came close to failing, I think my biases are perfectly fair.”

Josh laughs. “Donna Moss almost failed a class?”

“I stayed every day after school for a month and pulled it up to an A minus. But for a little while there I was in the mid-C range.”

“Painfully average,” Josh teases. 

“Shut up and eat your salad,” Donna sighs.

“I’m full, you can have it.”

Donna rolls her eyes. “Josh, you ordered this salad. You said you wanted this salad, and I didn’t question you…”

“You’re about to go back to work, and I know you won’t have time to stop and grab something for another… seven, eight hours? Eat the damn salad.”

~*~

The Hawk and Dove is nearly empty; it’s just CJ, Sam, Donna, Charlie, and Josh in the late hours of the snowy evening. 

“Toby was mentioning that earlier,” CJ says. “I don’t buy it.”

Donna pulls Josh’s untouched tray of cheese fries toward her and begins to eat, expecting a grumble or a whine from him. It never comes.

~*~

She’s not invited to this particular State Dinner. She could have gone home an hour ago, but she decided to take advantage of the rare opportunity to catch up on some filing while Josh wasn’t around. 

Donna works through the last stack of files and returns to her desk to find two plates full of hors d'oeuvres.

~*~

Donna opens her eyes and stretches as much as the hospital bed will allow. Josh hears her stir and stands up from his chair. “Hey,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

“Been better,” she says, her voice a little hoarse. 

“They brought you some breakfast. Looks like you’ve got some fruit and eggs. They’re probably a little cold by now, though. You hungry?”

“A little, yeah.” 

Josh extends his hand and offers her a small package of mini muffins. “Don’t ask me how this works, but apparently there’s a vending machine down the hall that has some American snacks in it. I thought these would be chocolate chip, but… they’re blueberry.” 

She takes the package and notices that the word blueberry is written in bold, blue font across the front, directly underneath the logo. He hasn’t eaten any of them.

~*~

“If anyone asks, the Congressman won’t be commenting on the situation with Senator Stephens,” Lou says. “Donna, do your best to make sure they don’t ask.”

Donna nods. She walks back to her seat to find a small bag of chocolate covered pretzels sitting in the chair. She looks across the room at Josh, staring at an electoral map, eating a bag of the same pretzels. He turns to grab a marker and makes eye contact with her from across the room.

Donna’s stomach nearly ties itself in knots when he gives her a small smile before returning to the board.

~*~

Josh takes his seat next to Donna, leaning in for a kiss. “Hi.”

“Hey,” she says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Everything okay?”

He nods. “Yeah. I was just getting the ‘don’t you dare hurt her’ talk from the President.”

“Which one?” Donna asks, taking a sip of champagne.

“Either. Both. They both like you better than me, anyway, does it really matter?” 

Donna laughs. “No, I guess it doesn’t.”

Josh looks down at his empty plate, then at Donna. “You ate my slice of cake?” He’s saying it in a tone of incredulity, but he’s grinning.

She shrugs. “You left it; I assumed you didn’t want it.”

“Donna,” Josh whines. “I was going to eat that.”

“There’s still plenty left,” Donna reassures him. “Don’t worry. You can get another slice.”

“Why, so you can eat that one, too?” Josh sighs. “At what point did you start stealing my food, anyway?”

Donna moves her arm to rest on Josh’s chair. “Probably around the time I noticed that even though I was on salary, you still continued to feed me. I don’t think I ever thanked you for that, by the way.”

Josh turns to face her. “Wait, you knew?”

“Of course I knew, Josh,” Donna says. “It was your way of taking care of me. It’s really thoughtful, actually. One of the many reasons I fell in love with you.” 

She looks at him for a moment, studying the smirk on his face. She’s still in awe that she gets to call this man her husband - this incredibly caring, ridiculously sweet, wonderful man married her. 

“I’m going to start putting my name on my leftovers,” Josh declares

“I’ll just eat them anyway,” Donna says, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Yeah. You will.”

#josh x donna #my fics

[purplesurveys]

1371

survey by joybucket

What's something you believe in that others are skeptical of? Nothing too out there; the only things I can think of are stuff about Asian culture and beliefs that may sound unfamiliar or completely foreign to others.

What was the last YouTube video you watched that you found entertaining? Just a bunch of wrestling segments and promos from over 20 years ago since I’m in that phase of watching that era again.

Do you own a Snuggie? Nopes.

What are three things you love about winter? I can’t answer you genuinely because we don’t get winter, but based from what I’ve at least seen on media - I like the cold weather, I like the snow, and I like how dark it can get some days.

Do you like where there's snow? Again, can’t really answer this genuinely; but on a related note I would love to travel to a place with snow at least once, just so I can get to play in it.

What's been the best thing about your day so far? One of my aunts sent over Korean food! :> We have a whole pack of instant ramen, rolled omelette, fishcake, and spicy octopus and pork, so it’s going to be one hell of a dinner.

Do you set goals for yourself each week/month/year? I’m not much of a goal-setter because I beat myself up a lot when I don’t get to accomplish something that I’ve set as an expectation. Instead, I take it day by day and just collect achievements when I get to them.

Are you sitting by a window right now? I am, actually. I’m not facing it, though.

What are you allergic to? Grass and certain fabrics.

What did the last pizza you ate have on it? It was a five-cheese pizza that if I remember correctly had parmesan, cheddar cheese, mozzarella, cream cheese, and bleu cheese.

Have you ever had a supernatural experience? No. I personally don’t believe in such entities but it won’t stop me from being interested in listening to others’ stories and claims about ghosts and such, lol.

How often do you have supernatural encounters? Like I said, I’m not a believer.

Have you ever seen a spirit? Nope.

What are three of the most disgusting foods on the planet, in your opinion? Fruit salad, any dessert with raisins and/or dates, and anything with beans.

Do you have good neighbors right now? I mean they’re okay. I never interact with them, but they’ve never done anything that I’ve found disruptive or irritating.

Would you ever get a tattoo? I used to want a bunch but I’ve mostly chickened out now. Needles terrify me.

Do you know anyone un-related to you that has your same last name? Yeah...a lot of people. Pretty sure that’s a common occurrence anyway unless the last name in question is rare to begin with, haha.

Name five geographical locations that start with W. Wyoming, Wales, Washington DC, Wichita, Warsaw.

Do you know anyone who is truly evil? Just a number of politicians in this country but nobody in real life.

Have you ever practiced self-hypnosis? Never have.

What is one thing you always wanted as a child but never got? Light-up shoes that came with wheels, or a Crayola box with 120 crayons or whatever amount the biggest option came with.

Do you like your natural hair color? I do like black, but I also needed a change which explains why I’ve finally had my hair recently dyed this ash-y green-y shade.

How old were you when you found your first gray hair (if applicable)? I don’t remember the exact age but it had to have been in my early teen years, from like the ages of 12-15. Thankfully spotting a white strand of hair has only happened to me once or twice.

When was the last time you watched a sunrise? It’s been a couple of months. The sky had been a shade of purple, the neighborhood was completely silent, and all in all it was a really peaceful moment to be in.

What was the cause of the worst physical pain you've ever experienced? Technically it was the coral reefs, but it was my own damn fault for snorkeling without flippers that had led to that nasty infection I got on my foot.

Is there anyone in your family who is colorblind, that you know of? Not that I know of.

What is one thing you want to do before you die? Go on a lengthy vacation to a different continent, maybe even go country-hopping. I’ve been so used to Asia being a bunch of islands that I’d like to go somewhere with different countries and cultures bunched together.

Have you had COVID? I’ve probably had it, yeah. There was a time when where my mom and sister both tested positive and we weren’t really doing quarantine within the house, so yeah I had probably gotten it as well.

Have you had the COVID vaccine? I’ve had the two doses last year and my booster dose just yesterday.

Do you know anyone who's died of COVID? Yes, my great-aunt and uncle.

Who of your friends is pregnant right now? None of them are.

Who was the last friend of yours to have a baby? None of my friends have had any kids, but I do have an older co-worker who gave birth by the end of last year. Wouldn’t call her a friend though.

Name five people you know (or know of) that have died in car accidents. The only person I know of is a distant uncle. Crashed into a pole while riding his motorcycle late in the evening. Everyone else I know who’ve been in car crashes had survived.

How many people do you have that you trust 100%? 3.

List five things that make you happy. BTS, weekends, dogs, the beach, and plane rides.

Are you a Christian? No.

Do you have a sock drawer? Nope.

What is the first letter of the first name of the most evil person you know? F.

What is the name of your favorite book character? Don’t have one.

What does your middle name rhyme with? My second name rhymes with fell. My legal middle name rhymes with appall.

What is your favorite thing about yourself? I think I’m reliable.

What are a few rumors that you've heard about yourself? There was a rumor in sixth grade that I was bisexual and was dating Andi, which I found more hilarious than anything because I couldn’t have been a bigger outcast at the time - it was so ridiculous to me that someone had the time to start a rumor about myself. Come high school I’m pretty sure there was also a rumor involving my ex but I can no longer remember what it had been about.

What is your ancestry? Filipino, Malay.

Name three people you've met who have the same favorite color as you. I can only think of Bea, who also likes pink. I don’t really keep track of other people’s favorite colors.

What was your favorite class in high school? History.

What is the silliest school team mascot you have heard of? We don’t really have school mascots here.

Have you ever had a toxic friend that pretended to be your friend, when they weren't? Athenna acted like this a number of times. There were times she’d be extremely nice to me, and other times she’d be pretty harsh or tell me demeaning things. I never knew where I was with her, and it got exhausting fast.

#survey #surveys

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from Scream Queens Ep 6 "Seven Minutes in Hell" (Note: Offensive content, use at own discretion)

Everyone would immediately assume the killer is me.

Are you one of those idiot savants who's heavy on the idiot, light on the savant?

I am simply a victim of my times.

Are you aware your pants are on backwards?

Then whose fault is it?

I am never talking about anything ever again!

Yeah, super sorry about what happened down there.

Why are you laughing?

What about that fit you threw down there?

You're not mad at me?

Oh, I meant everything I said about you.

I still think you're useless. I'm just not sad about it.

You never, ever want to be the boss in a time of extreme crisis.

As soon as you become the boss, you get a target on your back, from the feds, the other families, ambitious underlings.

Sure, seems like you have all the power, but you also take on the most risk.

Oh, don't judge me for trying to stay alive.

Do not give an inch.

What's your game here?

I trust you about as far as I can throw you.

I know we don't know who the killer is, but we know it traces back to this house.

There are two things that always happen at a slumber party; someone experiments with lesbianism and secrets are revealed.

We can create situations and scenarios to really prime the pump.

We'll lock everybody up overnight, and we're bound to find out something.

A slumber party sounds fun.

Let's play spin the bottle.

Someone always goes lesbian.

We're playing spin the damn bottle.

Why spin the bottle?

That is not a nasty rumor. That is a true rumor.

So I propose a panty raid.

You taste like wax.

I guess we have to kiss.

You're a great kisser.

Was I interrupting you?

I was just practicing looking disinterested.

I'm pretty sure I was born without that part of the brain that actually feels stuff.

We have so much in common.

I'm starting to think we have something very important and specific in common.

My sex life up until this point is what you'd call unusual.

I think the only way to be sure of your feelings is if you let me gently rub your uterus right now.

When I love someone, it drives them insane.

Believe me when I say that if it was possible for me to feel anything I would totally be crying right now.

That doesn't seem healthy.

All the doors are locked solid. Windows, too. Upstairs and down.

I decided to have the whole house turned into a panic room.

But wait, doesn't that mean that there's some sort of switch somewhere to deactivate it?

I hate being trapped in small places.

There's only one reason why the killer would do something like this-- to pick us off one by one.

Guess it's just a matter of time before one of us or all of us ends up dead.

You have to help us.

Look, I'm prepared to say I'm sorry I did that.

What I'm not prepared to do is say the sex was bad.

Yeah. I'm not gonna apologize for that one.

I'm about to get murdered, so can you please just hang up and get over here?

How on earth are we supposed to get in if all the doors and windows are locked?

Dude, we climb up the ladder, break the windows upstairs, save all the girls, climb back down, then it's vagina city for all of us.

Why would you bomb-proof upstairs windows? For what, like, a flying bomb?

Don't be an idiot.

It's hero time.

Save me and I'm yours forever.

I'm not really sure I'm ready for that level of commitment.

Break the glass!

Stand back, fair maiden.

Give him the dignity of watching him die.

Someone in this house definitely knows who the killer is.

It's truth or dare time.

Whatever it takes to stop the douche that's trying to kill everybody.

I mean, do you ever just stop and ask yourself if we can actually pull this off?

Maybe we all just need to get out of here.

The best way to avoid a shark attack is to not go in the water.

We all have a crisis of faith sometimes.

Maybe you're hiding something.

I'd pick truth and then just lie.

If you want to lie, you can just pick dare.

That's the whole point of truth or dare. You can't lie.

Does your vagina have teeth?

I'm not lying.

My vagina doesn't have teeth.

Does your vagina still have teeth?

So it used to have teeth, but you got them removed?

So your vagina still has teeth.

Sounds like you're trapped in a web of lies.

You're forfeiting your turn, bitch.

Okay, I guess it's my turn, then.

You promised you wouldn't tell.

Sorry. I had to tell the truth.

Of course you're the killer.

I propose we take a little break, You know, take a whiz, get a refill.

You know what? I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ever trusted you.

I wanted to talk about the other thing you said, about how you thought you had feelings for me.

The only feelings I have for you now are rage and pissed offedness.

Now go sit in that bathtub and think about what you've done. And try not to rub one out, okay?

Come on! I said I was sorry!

If anybody's down here, please don't jump out at me.

Is that blood?

Wait. If you're gonna kill me, at least show me who you are first.

I knew it. I knew it was you.

Please. You don't have to do this. I could help you.

There's never any food in there. Just laxatives.

I got the impression that you and I are on the verge of being the next "it" couple.

See, this is the problem with texting, you know? You can't hear the context.

Even though I decided to not wear a bra, you haven't been staring at my shirt raisins once.

Okay, look, I was waiting to talk to you about this 'cause secretly I was hoping you'd be killed and I wouldn't have to hurt your feelings.

I just don't think it would work out with us.

You're nuts, and not like a typical crazy-eyes co-ed, but wake-up-with-my penis-in-a-jar lunatic.

I love space mountain. Best ride at Disneyland. But I love my penis more.

Number one-- I never take second place. And number two-- I don't stop till I get what I want.

Was that salad spinner hitting on you?

I am super turned on from her, and I need some sweet release.

Is there any, like, Crisco or cooking oil here? Just, like, dry handies bum me out.

I propose we treat ourselves to a little heaven. Seven minutes in heaven.

Whatever your plan was, it isn't working.

Would you like to pat the little man in the canoe?

I want to take our relationship to the next level.

I want us to be together, but I want it to mean something.

I love boning girls all over this great land. But really, at the end of the day, I just kind of want to bone one girl. Like, that one special girl.

I just didn't think that girl was you. Because, obviously, there's so much wrong with you.

Will you get back together with me?

I would consider taking you back under one condition.

You have to pinky-pledge that you will be monogamous to me.

You will not have sex with anyone else. Do you understand me?

Dude, she looks like prepackaged meat from the supermarket.

Oh, god, has someone checked on the kids?

Pretty convenient that you're the one who found the body.

You're the darkest bitch of them all.

Those are some serious accusations, and they make no sense.

I would be opening myself up to a lot of trouble if I were to turn you in to the authorities.

It doesn't do any of us any good to start accusing each other with no evidence.

I suggest that we just have someone stand guard and watch me for the rest of the night, or until someone else dies, therefore proving that I am not the killer.

This feels so good.

I tried to scream, but nothing came out!

Interesting. That's all I'm gonna say. Interesting.

There is a trapdoor with, like, a tunnel system.

But wait, there are secret tunnels in this house perfect for a killer to use, and you neglected to tell us?

That's a little suspicious.

We are losing sight of the big picture here.

I'm not going down there. I do not dig on cobwebs, and I'm guessing there are loads of cobwebs down there.

If you get murdered in those tunnels, I promise I will never bang anyone harder than I banged you.

You're so rich and hot.

These are the nicest secret tunnels I've ever seen.

Wow. What amazing legacies they all have. What do you think ours will be?

If we can get through this year without everyone getting killed, I think we'll go down as the greatest of them all.

You came back for me.

Purely selfish.

You are probably the worst cop ever.

Wait, where are we going?

I won't go!

In three seconds, I'm gonna pick you up and carry you out of here.

I just kind of came over here because I farted over there and it smelled bad.

Wait, you're a lesbian?

Basically, I'm in love with love.

The next time I feel love for someone, I'm going to tell them. Right away. Just in case they're murdered before I can.

I just feel like I'm never gonna find a guy who likes me.

I'm a freak.

Nobody actually likes me.

You are totally gonna find another guy.

They're custom-made pink nunchaku.

Thank you for making that announcement that no one cared about.

No slumber party is finished without a kickass dance party.

This is so wonderfully random.

What a great way to pretend all these people we know weren't brutally murdered.

#rp meme #rp memes #rp starters #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #roleplay memes #scream queens

[echodrops]

Good Omens Fanfics I Want to Read

1. The Arrangement is in full swing; they’ve started trading jobs based on convenience. Aziraphale's a bit nervous about Crowley’s ability to really thwart wiles and spread heavenly serenity--until the commendations start coming in. To the angel’s dismay, it seems that Crowley is not only capable of keeping Heaven fooled... He’s also exceeding all their standards. (The one in which Crowley is better at being an angel than Aziraphale is, and that irks Aziraphale to no end.)

2. The one where Crowley isn’t just the inspiration for the Biblical symbol of the serpent, but the inspiration for all human images of serpents, so when a witch on a Norse mythology kick accidentally invokes Midgardsormr, the crew now have to deal with Crowley being stuck in the form of a massive, Ragnarok-inducing sea serpent--and being proportionately put out about it. This is just not the kind of thing you want happening in downtown London.

3. The one where everything is the same except Aziraphale and Crowley never met in Eden. Or met at all. For some reason, although they’ve both been on Earth since the beginning, they keep justttt missing each other. (We might almost think things were being planned that way, mightn’t we?) But now the apocalypse is slated to happen, and it’s not going to stop itself. If Crowley wants to keep his plants and car and the rude little ducks in St. James’ Park, he’s going to have to do something he hasn’t managed to do even after considering it for 6000 years: actually talk to Earth’s angel.

YOOOOO, @akavincent found this fic!! IT EXISTS AND I READ IT AND IT WAS EVERY BIT AS MARVELOUS AS I HOPED; I’M OVER THE MOON. Please go read Maniacalmole’s “Not Too Late” on AO3! (I’d link but tumblr eats posts with links. But please go read it; it’s adorable!!!)

4. The non-Earth soulmates AU where angels and demons have been at holy war for thousands of years--until Aziraphale and Crowley turn up soulmates, throwing everybody off. You can’t just excuse someone from holy war, but separating soulmates? Even Hell won’t go that far. Aziraphale and Crowley have to simultaneously sort out what to do with themselves and all their very confused bosses, because there is just No Policy for this. (I.e., the one where Crowley and Aziraphale accidentally end the End of Days by simultaneously shirking work.)

5. A 5+1 collection of the temptations Aziraphale has performed in Crowley’s name (and the one he did just for himself). The Arrangement went both ways after all, and I want to see Aziraphale send some book burners to hell with a vengeance.

6. The one where, unbeknownst to Aziraphale or Crowley, the British government has known about their existences for quite some time. The fic is Outsider POV, written by the agents responsible for “keeping watch” over London’s resident cryptids. It reads like a guidebook to the care and maintenance of an endangered species (“Although the Soho Site presents itself as a public location, refer to Policy 8a.05 and exercise extreme caution when entering the bookshop; Angel A. is highly territorial”) alongside an increasingly confused series of observation reports (“Angel C. entered the Tesco Express near Blackfriars Station at 20:14 and proceeded to move all of the sales signs to items that were not on discount. Over the next three hours and 23 minutes, 102 consumer complaints were filed, two fights broke out over places in the queue, incorrect change was provided on no fewer than 71 occasions, and Miss Marjory Pennifeld, acting manager, was placed on administrative leave after a conveniently-timed surprise health inspection determined it was unsanitary for her to cry on the customers’ salad greens, whether the salad greens were on sale or not. Please see Addendum 76A for a follow-up report on the incident, written by Agent Blythe, who discovered the most likely cause was Tesco PLC’s decision not to restock Rum and Raisin ice cream through the winter season”). One thing is clear: all of the self-appointed “Guardian Agents” are very invested in whether or not the angels will ever successfully complete their elaborate courtship ritual the well-being and happiness of Britain‘s only (charmingly oblivious) supernatural beings.

crumbs_locket on AO3 is writing this one and it’s I N C R E D I B L E so far! The PLEASE GO TREAT YOURSELF by reading it: A Compilation of Observation Logs on Soho’s Only Supernatural Beings: archiveofourown.org/chapters/49262264

Ishomoogoo is also writing with this prompt and her series is soooo charming! MAKE SURE TO READ THIS ONE TOO!!: Tales of the Agency that Absolutely Doesn’t Exist (Stop Asking): archiveofourown.org/series/1521377

#good omens #ineffable husbands #Crowley/Aziraphale #Crowley #Aziraphale #Good Omens Fics #Fic Prompts #someone write these for me #I don't have time myself #but as always #I HAVE A MIGHTY NEED

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: How Do You Like It? {Headcanon/One-Shot}*

Chris Evans

Warning: Cursing, Lewd Topic, Conversation NSFW, Lewd Humor

Words: 2.2k

Note: Okay, so yet again I came up with something just by looking at these two gifs/images of Chris. Yet again, I have NO IDEA what this is, where this came from or what’s wrong with me. Rock with me though. Thank you for reading.

***Not Edited/Proofread**

~~~~~~~~~~~

He’d done a lot of interviews in his career. So many they all blended together. They asked the same questions, insinuated to the same things, told the same jokes. He could go through a regular run of the mill interview with his eyes closed and half drunk and still ace it. he was going nuts with the mundaneness of it all. He wanted to shake it up but of course, he had his image to think about. He always had his image to think about, which is why his interviews had been blander than what he’d imagined potato salad with raisins would taste like.

 He was tired of boring interviews and wanted to just go off the beaten path, just once. So, when he got wind that his team got an offer from a podcast called “The Thirsty Hour” to appear his interest was piqued. It took his team no longer than a minute to decline the offer. He’s expected that. The next day he turned right around and accepted the offer and had them go through Scott to finalize the arrangement.

 When he showed up three nights later to the address, he’d been given he did so with Scott and his partner in tow. The location was a hair salon that had a basement that the owners of the salon and founders of the podcast; Shaundra and Aleesha had set up impressively well. It looked like a professional start-up radio station. 

The duo thanked him for appearing and shook his hand over ten times with bright smiles plastered across their faces. He could tell their excitement and he was also excited to be there. It was sad this was how he got his kicks, sneaking off behind his team’s back to do interviews off the beaten path.

 He was offered a drink while they went over the schedule and possible content. Business discussions turned to small talk and a whole lot of laughs and that turned to three beers before Shaundra and Aleesha began the show. He sat back and watched the dynamic duo in their element. He liked the way they fed off each other and knew he was going to have a good time.

 Shaundra: Thanks again everyone for tuning in to our little podcast. It’s hard to believe that this is our two hundredth episode. It totally doesn’t feel like it.

Aleesha You’re right. It definitely doesn’t feel like it at all. We’ve been lucky that this has taken off the way that it has especially given how this is not a morning commute type of podcast.

Shaundra: Damn right, we’re the cousin of the morning commute podcast that many are ashamed of because they wouldn’t know where to begin when it comes to the things we talk about.

Aleesha: What kinds of things are those?

Saundra: The sex kinds. Sex positions, Kama Sutra, blow jobs, backshots, ways to spice up the marriage, how to give a proper striptease.

 Chris’ eyebrows shot up as he was mid sip of his glass of brown liquor. The immediate thought in his head was this was going to get interesting.

 Aleesha: And that is just the tip of the iceberg.

Shaundra: Tip of the dick print you mean.

 Chris couldn’t help it but snort loudly. He held up his finger as an apology for his outburst but neither Shaundra nor Aleesha seemed to mind. They just smiled and shook their heads as if to tell him not to worry about it.

 Aleesha: Speaking of dick print. I have no idea how we pulled this off, but we actually got confirmation that we’re doing things real BIG for our two hundredth episode. We have a special guest tonight, none other than Chris Evans.

 Fake applause sounds on a track and Chris takes up the headphones and puts them on.

 Shaundra: Welcome to the show Chris.

 Chris: Thank you for having me. I appreciate the thought.

Aleesha: This is your first time on the show. Have you listened before?

Chris: I’m embarrassed to say that I haven’t. I don’t get much time to myself and it leaves little time to find new things or enjoy things on my own.

Shaundra: I understand that. We’re glad you were able to come through though. You look very low key like you intended to fly under the radar tonight in your t-shirt, hat, and jeans. Also, are those the new Nike’s?

 He smiles and begins to blush.

 Chris: I’m a bit of a sneakerhead. It’s a thing for me.

 The ladies nod and look impressed.

 Shaundra: You’re sure you’re not a black man parading around as a white man?

Chris: Sort of a like a reverse Rachel Dolezal?

 The applause track plays again but is accompanied by Shaundra and Aleesha’s “ohs” and “wows”.

 Shaundra: Shots fired.

He laughs and shrugs as he takes another snip of his drink thinking this isn’t so bad and had no idea why his team shot it down.

 Aleesha: Speaking of black men. Chris, have you ever dated a sista?

Chris: Sista?

Shaundra: Sista, she mean--.

Chris: No, I know what a sista is.

 Shaundra and Aleesha eye each other in a way that speaks volumes.

 Chris: Officially no, I haven’t.

Aleesha: What’s unofficially?

Chris: I’ve flirted with, spoken with for a few days but nothing ever came of it.

Shaundra: Would you ever date a sista, a black woman?

Chris: I would. Why not? I look at more important things than skin color.

Aleesha: Like what?

Chris: Like, connection, conversation, sense of humor, interests, stuff like that.

Shaundra: I noticed you kept looks off that list. Do you not look at a woman’s looks?

Chris: The politically correct answer would be; looks don’t matter but in today’s world looks are everything.

Shaundra: Are looks everything to Chris Evans?

Chris: Nah. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Aleesha: So, do you have a type?

Chris: Nope.

 Shaundra and Aleesha laugh together.

 Shaundra: What catches your eye then? Nice eyes, plump lips, big boobs, small waist, wide hips, big ass? What makes Chris Evans look like the man in those memes who’s walking with his girlfriend but is looking back at a new, fresher piece of ass?

 He laughs again and thinks about the question for a few moments. He takes another swig of the liquor and leans closer to the table.

 Chris: Uh, I don’t know.

 He was still feeling censored from his many, many years of doing just that.

 Aleesha: Come on. Are you an ass man or a boobs man?

Chris: God, this is going to be everywhere tomorrow. The headline is going to say Chris Evans reveals he’s an ass man.

 The ladies laugh again and clap.

 Shaundra: Ah, so you’re an ass man.

Aleesha: Then you have to find yourself a sista. We’ve got great asses. Do you like them firm with no jiggle or round, plump with some jiggle?

Chris: Definitely some jiggle, something I can hold on to when I’m back there.

 Shaundra’s and Aleesha’s drop open. He’d just disclosed that he likes doggy style.

 Aleesha: So, Chris Evans is an ass man who likes backshots, which is the better term for doggy style? Did I just hear right?

 His smile was wide, but he didn’t confirm or deny what she said. That action was a clear confirmation to them though.

 Shaundra: Well alright then. I would have never guessed.

Aleesha: I would have. You give off this air of—confidence, it’s a confidence similar to what black men give off. I can’t explain it but there is something about you that is intriguing. I would have guessed.

 He smiles and tips his head in a curt nod.

 Shaundra: The last guest we had on the show, we asked about how he likes his head. He gave an idea of how he preferred it.

Aleesha: He gave up a play by play walkthrough.

Chris: Sounds informative. You do know that what works for one man doesn’t necessarily work for all right.

Shaundra: So, I’ve learned. Y’all are pickier than women.

Chris: Lies. What works for one woman definitely doesn’t work for all. If that’s the case I could just suck on a clit and boom off to space.

 Again, Shaundra and Aleesha’s jaws dropped. He looked across to his brother who looked equally as shocked before he shook his head. It was at that time Chris realized he’d probably had enough to drink.

 Aleesha: So that doesn’t work for every woman you’ve been with?

 He laughs and shakes his head.

 Shaundra: Oh, come on, closed mouths don’t get fed.

Chris: Loose lips sink ships or careers.

Aleesha: The ideals of a good career change over time. Live a little.

 He laughed again but decided to just live a little and deal with it later.

 Shaundra: So. Chris Evans eats the box?

Chris: How can any man be okay with not knowing how to please their woman or not wanting to do it to perfection. I am not above any of it. All of my fingering is accurate.

 Laughter rang out in the small room.

 Aleesha: He eats the box and is an accurate fingerer ladies.

Shaundra: What makes Chris Evans go wild in the bedroom?

Chris: So, a cheat sheet?

Aleesha: Why not. Ninety percent of the world might not ever get to use it so, yeah.

Chris: Okay. Someone who’s adventurous, not just into the basic things like a kiss here, lay on your back and thanks see you next time. I’m definitely a guy who enjoys the tease, make it last. Anticipation can be an intoxicating thing.

Aleesha: So, you’re into foreplay.

Chris: Absolutely.

Shaundra: What about when it comes to the head?

Aleesha: I have an idea. Here.

 Aleesha places a standing mic in front of him and smiles.

 Aleesha: Show us.

Chris: Show you?

Aleesha: Yeah. We always record our podcasts with video, and it goes to our YouTube for those who like a visual with their audio. We told you this. I figured the ladies at home would love to see.

 He looks to his brother and his partner and they’re already laughing no doubt thinking this is what he deserves for throwing censors to the side.

 Chris: What the hell.

 He leans closer to the mic and clears his throat and acts as if he’s about to showcase some superior athletic skills.

 Chris: All right so maybe start with some kisses along the—

Aleesha: Shaft?

Chris: Right, that. Don’t be afraid of it, get in there.

 He allows the ball of the mic to jamb into his cheek before he smears his nose across it taking a deep inhale.

 Chris: Just get in there. Tease it on your lips maybe add some sneak licks and flicks of the tongue before you come up and just put your mouth on it. a lot of women forget the head is super sensitive use that shit. Make him squeal and scrunch his toes.

Again, everyone laughed, and he tried to keep a straight face.

 Chris: If you can’t take it all take what you can, don’t just have your tongue sit there either figure out what to do with it. experiment. Have fun. Don’t forget to use your hands too.

 He grasps the mic with both hands and moves them in opposite directions sort of like a wrench.

 Chris: Make them do the opposite of whatever your mouth is doing. Don’t be afraid to get messy. Sloppy toppy is not a bad thing. Let the spit drip, hell gag a little. Be enthusiastic about that shit. A man can tell an unenthusiastic dick sucker. It’s obvious if you don’t want to slob on the knob. Don’t be the unenthusiastic dick sucker.

 They all couldn’t hold the laughter, including him. As he tried to get back into character, he took another sip of his drink and echoed the same thing he did from the beginning rubbing his face across the mic.

 Chris: Just have fun with it.

Aleesha: And for the finish, are you a facial kind of man or would you prefer to give mouthfuls?

 His smile was wide as he rubbed the back of his neck.

 Chris: Why choose? Depends what the mood of the night is. It has to go somewhere though.

 With that everyone uproariously laughed.

 Shaundra: Wow. Wow. That is all I can say.

 Aleesha and Shaundra both applauded his performance. He bowed his head to them and toward the camera in the corner.

 Aleesha: I think that is all we can take tonight on The Thirsty Hour.

Shaundra: I’d say thirst quenched Aleesha?

Aleesha: Hell no, we’re parched.

Shaundra: Thank you, Chris Evans, for coming by and kicking it with us. Any sistas that wanna step to Chris and represent and do it for the culture and show him what he’s been missing, please. You now have a roadmap to his pleasure.

 The ladies close the podcast and cut the video feed shortly after. They thank him again before he leaves and gets back into the car. On the drive, Scott teases him about him possibly going too far and warning him to be prepared for the fallout tomorrow. Chris knows he’s right but can’t seem to care. Tomorrow was another day and it wasn’t there yet.

#how do you like it headcanon #how do you like it one shot #Chris Evans #chris evans headcanon #chris evans oneshot

[the-departed-potato]

35 Questions about me...

(Please answer yourself and send to your friends! I wanna get to know you guys!)

Have you ever done anything illegal? 🚫 I gave myself 19 tattoos as a minor

Last song you listened to? 🎙 34+35 by Ariana Grande

Are you single? ❤️ Nope. Surprisingly someone finds me attractive

Have you ever done drugs? 💉 Does accidentally eating a pot brownie on a trip to Disneyland count?

Ever been drunk? 🍺 Not quite drunk but I’ve been pretty fuzzy

Who’s your celebrity crush?💘 Jared Padalecki and Tom Hiddleston

Childhood favorite movie? 📺 High School Musical (Chad was my favorite and I got to meet Corban Blue when he was doing promos for Jump In when I was like 5)

What’s your favorite color? 💛 Gold (if gold doesn’t count yellow)

Do you believe in ghosts? 👻 Fuck yes and there always following me

What’s your favorite song? 🎧 Heaven by Todrick Hall (but it makes me cry so Beep Beep by Little Mix currently)

What’s your worst fear? 😱 Snakes (don’t come at me with those slippery mother fuckers)

Do you drink coffee? ☕️ I love coffee but only drink it once-ish a month

Are you a jealous person? 😤 I’d like to say no but that’s a lie

Last text message? 🗣 “My hairs so white its putting raisins in the potato salad” (I just bleached my hair 😂)

What’s your favorite flower? 🌺 Peach colored roses

Biggest pet peeve? 🙄 People, just fucking people

Do you like swimming? 🏊‍♀️ hell yes, I was on a swim team from age 5-13 and used to be Red Cross life guard certified

Favorite place in the world? 🌎 Disney World (Florida)

Favorite scent? 🍎 Apples (red without cinnamon)

What was your last panic attack from? 😖 PTSD (rape flashback)

Height? 📏 5 ft 4 in

Favorite movie of all time? 🎥 Jurassic Park or Crimson Peak

Favorite book of all time? 📖 Anthem by Ayn Rand

Crush? 💗 Me, bitch (JK my partner)

What’s your current mood? 😃😐😢 Meh (not good not bad)

Have you ever been in a fight? 🤜🏼 Someone once punched me in the nose and I told them “I’m sorry”

Longest relationship? 💔 1 year (almost exactly)

Last person you called? 📞 The college help desk

Weight? ⚖️ 210 (lbs) and cute as hell

Have you ever been kissed? 💋 Yep

What’s your zodiac sign? 🪐 Aries

Have you ever skipped class? ✏️ No. my school had security, was in a gated area, and they call your parents and the police for every class you don’t show up for

What’s your favorite animal? 🦄 Manatee

What’s your favorite clothing brand? 👔 Steve Madden

Favorite TV show? 📹 Supernatural

#about me #questions #get to know you #movies #chrush #color #music #song #food #pet peeve #swimming #love #school #animals #clothing #tv show #supernatrual #little mix #zodiac sign #relashionship #height #weight #books #fight #joke #funny #single #fill out #drunk #celebrity

[lightsfromouterspace]

Ranking food in the psychiatry

"Carrot ginger soup"

Tastes like someone microwaved carrot juice for a few seconds

2/10

Chocolate mousse

Its liquid. WhY IS IT LIQUID

1/10

Vegetable Lasagna

How does it stay in that shape?

4/10

Vegetables

Probably frozen and defrosted seveal times over the last ten years

0/10

Salad

Does not taste like,,,salad?? How do they mess up salad???? How????? Do they store it unrefrigerated?????

0/10

Ramen

I bought those before i came here because i knew the food was going to be terrible

10/10

Spätzle (german, idk)

When i say they taste like absolutely nothing i mean it. If i were to get covid, loose my sense of taste, and eat these i wouldn't notice. 5/10 because no taste is better than tasting like its not fucking edible.

Indian style curry

An insult to real indian cuisine. Seriously, d o n t.

0/10

Blueberry pancakes

Taste is ok for once but that milky blue liquid does spoil your appetite

6/10

(how am i supposed to call this?) Salty rice with fruit?? like,, raisins????

I hate food going to waste. I really do. But every time i take off the covering of my plate and see this i'm like n o p e and put it back. Literally the most disgusting food i ever had, every spoon i force myself to eat makes my instincts go "what the hell are you eating, are you sure this is even edible??"

-10000000000000/10

We made christmas cookies.

The first time my roommate melted a microwave safe bowl in the microwave. The second time i was doing it alone and didnt have Powdered sugar, frosting, baking paper or a mesuring cup and sTILL made something that's better than most of the food that's served here

8/10

Broccoli hash browns

I would call it mashed broccoli that stays in slice shape for some reason but,,, its one of the better meals here.

6/10

Fruit

Apples and Plums

I've never had any food allergies before i came here but when i eat the apples and plums my mouth and lips feel itchy and like theyre swelling?? those are allergy symptoms right???? what the hell.

4/10

Kiwis and Pears

Not ripe. Not even close. Had to hide them in a drawer for two weeks or I wouldnt have even been able to cut them.

6/10

Egg with steamed Vegetables and mashed potatoes

The mashed potatoes had,,, holes in it??? like bubbles rose to the top and left this stuff full of them????? this would have needed a tyrophobia content warning, right??. And, guess what, i'm not done yet, the broccoli had the exact same consistancy as the mashed potatoes. Read that again. How is this even possible??? I didnt think that was possible!!

-10000000/10

Rice soup

No taste, didnt order this. They probably tried to make their horrible rice, added too much water and served it as soup instead. -10/10

Potato soup

*mashed potatoes with water

3/10

Bisquits

Thats really unexpected but these?? taste amazing???? idk where they even come from, sometimes they're just in a bowl in the common room for everyone to take but once im out of here i will miss them so much :' i love them 😭😭😭

10000000000/10

#psychiatry #mental health #therapy shitposts #shitposts #shitpost

[etraytin]

Quarantine, Day 89

June 8 

Another Monday, the start of another business week, and a very busy day! Today was full of many adventures, such as achieving a new high score in Gardenscapes, being yelled at by an elderly person, and not going to Lowes. Quite the whirlwind! The kiddo has not quite gone to sleep yet, but I have bought time out of his room by telling him I was going to make some tea (which is technically also true). I am hoping that by the time I check on him in ten minutes, he will have fallen asleep cause he was pretty tired. 

First thing this morning was the meeting with the attorney. It was a Zoom visit, and my goodness, aren't we all getting good at using Zoom now? It's practically old hat. We had a list of questions and were able to get some useful answers, as well as start to make a plan going forward with handling the estate. Apparently the office now does drive thru will signing and notarization, which is very funny to me but makes sense since you need two witnesses in person for a will signing and I don't think anyone has tested whether videoconferencing is in person enough. (I think it's gonna happen soon though, and I think the answer will be yes.)  After the meeting, I spent much of the rest of the morning making a list of what entities will need a copy of the death certificate when it arrives and where that certificate will need to be sent. I am hoping we can stay long enough that the certificates come in the mail, but they are apparently kind of backed up right now. 

While I was working, the kiddo seized control of our little iPad (we have many iPads in the house right now, there is the big iPad, which was Papa's, the medium iPad, which is Nana's, and the little iPad, which we got when Papa got the big iPad because he couldn't read the little iPad) and used it to spend all my Gardenscapes stars. I like the match-three game that is Gardenscapes and pretty much ignore the metagame of furnishing the garden except when I need to get extra lives. The kiddo doesn't like the actual game very much but gets a real kick out of furnishing the garden, so he spent all 1400 of my accumulated stars, finished four or five areas, and bumped my coin total to an all-time high of 105,000. I am like unto a god among gardeners, fear my pecuniary might! Upon finishing spending my stars, he gave me back the iPad and insisted I needed to earn him more stars, so that's what I did during podcast time tonight. 

For lunch my husband made mozzarella stick grilled cheese, where he made grilled cheese sandwiches, then rolled them in breading, then pan-fried them crispy golden brown and served them with marinara sauce. They were very, very good and I should probably not eat them more than once a year if I value my coronary artery health. After lunch MIL and I went to the drive-thru at the drugstore for her medicine, and then I tried to go to Lowes for a new outdoor garbage can and garden hose. I figured midafternoon on a Monday shouldn't be too busy, but the place was packed! What the hell is everybody doing at Lowes, anyway? I decided to come back later after noting the number of people not even wearing masks. 

The afternoon was pretty sedate, husband and kiddo took the other guitar, this one a regular size wooden acoustic that FIL made from a kit back in his early retirement days. FIL was a hell of a woodworker at one time, he also built a grandfather clock from a kit that still stands in the living room and keeps good time. MIL wasn't sure that the homemade guitar could be tuned, but the guy at the shop said that while it wouldn't be quite perfect, he could get it sounding good. The kiddo is very enamored with the guitar and spent his creative arts half hour today just playing with it and making fairly musical noises with it. I can already understand why the guitar is a better instrument to have your kid learning than any of the brasses or woodwinds. This bears thinking about. 

The meal train from MIL's church started today. People will be bringing us dinner every other night for the next two weeks, which is very nice of them and gives us dinner and MIL the feeling that people at her church have not forgotten her. FIL had an extremely hard time getting around this past year or two and was often hard to rouse and dress in the mornings, so they weren't getting to church nearly as much even before the virus. I can tell she is happy to know that people still know her and want to help her in a time of need. I suspect, I hope anyway, that within the next year or so she is one of the people signing up to help others, as well as joining committees and groups again. She thrives on being involved in things, and she hasn't been able to do it in a long time. 

Anyway, two people brought stuff over today, one of them a backstop when she saw that the person who signed up was bringing imitation crab salad and sweet potato pecan salad as the main dishes. The second person very tactfully  contacted us directly and offered to bring us a pork tenderloin, which we gladly accepted. The pork tenderloin lady arrived at 5:30 and dropped off the food with a little doorway conversation and condolences, very nice. Half an hour later, I was playing Gardenscapes in our room (the kiddo is a harsh taskmaster) when MIL shoved the landline phone into my hands and said "here, you're good at giving directions, the meal train lady is lost." 

Before I could protest that I don't even go here, the rather elderly lady on the other end of the phone was telling me about how she'd gone from X road to Y road and ended up back on X road and had no idea where she was and was driving around randomly. By a small miracle, I was able to figure out where she actually was and try to explain to her what she needed to do, only for her to interrupt me four or five times to tell me I wasn't making any sense, and also accused me of not answering the phone the first time she'd called. At long last I managed to get her to a landmark that put her back on the correct road and gave her the rest of the turns, then sent the guys out to the end of the driveway to flag her down. When she arrived, I tried to apologize for the confusion and explained that our GPS was also confused for a long time by the fairly rural route, she told me I ought to remember that not everybody has a GPS! It was like getting Tumblr-privilege-checked IRL by an old woman and was rather offputting. But hey, at least it was me and not MIL. Who the hell scolds the bereaved family they are bringing food to because they themselves had shitty directions? I don't even know. 

Anyway, the pork tenderloin was very good, the crab salad was a small container of crab salad, and the sweet potato salad was incredibly weird. it was like a vinegar based potato salad except instead of tiny chunks of white potato it was quartered sweet potatoes and also red peppers with pecans dumped on top. There were also brownies that we could not peg the flavor on but were something in the blonde peanut butter-chocolate chip-possibly dates or raisins category. And man, I know it's extremely gauche to bag on food people bring you out of the kindness of their hearts, but come on, don't both yell at me and bring me weird potato salad, that's not very nice. 

The kiddo has indeed gone to sleep in the time I've taken to steep my tea and write this, so that is excellent. Tomorrow I need to look into the financial advisor stuff some more and hopefully actually arrive at Lowes long enough to buy my items. For now, though, I have some stars to go earn. 

#quarantine #gardenscapes #weird potato salad

[silentauroriamthereal]

rumtastique replied to your post “Man, today was a shitshow.  It started with getting nearly run over...”

please share your coleslaw wisdom.....

Ooo! Gladly! So, I’ve never liked two things that most other people in North America seem to like - okay, so it’s way more than two things, but these are the two that came to mind: potato salad, and coleslaw. With potato salad, I never understood it: I like all of the things that typically go in there - potatoes, mayo, hard-boiled eggs, whatever variation (unless it’s raisins or something truly startling like that). But something about it all together is just awful. Or so I thought, until the day when I was in a mad hurry to buy something to eat on the ICE (high speed train in Germany) and spotted a container of Kartoffel Salat mit Speck and thought, what the hell. Speck = bacon, and bacon improves everything, right? So I ate it and it was DELICIOUS. It turns out that my time in Germany irrevocably changed my taste palate in two specific ways: 1) I now like carbonated water, which I had previously loathed, and 2) I have a much deeper appreciation for vinegar. 

Long story short, the secret to all of my main salads is to cut the sugar and increase the vinegar. A lot of salads start with a base of mayo, vinegar, and sugar. I generally don’t eat a lot of sugar these days, but I quickly realized that in salads, at least, I not only don’t miss the sugar - I prefer them without it! So my coleslaw base, just as with my broccoli bacon salad base, is literally just mayo and white vinegar. I don’t measure it. Tonight’s iteration went something like: blop about 4 tbsp of mayo into a mixing bowl, add a generous splash of white vinegar, stir it until it’s mostly not lumpy anymore (it really doesn’t matter), then add pre-shredded coleslaw mix. I would estimate it was about 4 cups of shredded cabbage. I add sea salt and pepper, and then my secret ingredients: toasted sunflower seeds and (pre-shelled) pistachios. It’s SO GOOD. It’s like crack, seriously! The extra salt and crunch from the seeds and nuts is an amazing contrast with the crisp crunch of the cabbage, and the sour/creamy tang of the mayo/vinegar base is just... *chef’s kiss* Try it!!! And if you do, let me know what you thought! 

Since I’m in a rambly mood and I mentioned it above, I’ll just go ahead and share my broccoli bacon salad recipe, too. Base: same as above. Blanch some broccoli florets (aka, put them in boiling water until they have that wet look, then take it out and chill it in cold water until it’s genuinely not-hot anymore). Cook some bacon, then crumble it (/cut it up). Toss the broccoli in the mayo/vinegar mix, then add in the bacon, a handful of shredded cheddar, toasted sunflower seeds, and some chopped green onion. So good! I can eat, like, an entire head of broccoli in a salad like this and make it the entire meal! 

#rumtastique #I cook things #keto ftw

[liw-the-melancholic-apple]

How it may have gone - Humble Beginnings

A fic taking place in the marauders era. While the political climate seems to head to a conflict, James, Sirius, Remus and Peter are still just teenagers. Dealing with typical teenage problems.

But this year their little group grows. Who would have known that more prefects would be a good thing?

Masterlist

Nine: A hard night's day II

The common room slowly came to live and I vaguely answered the question as to where I’d been that night a couple of times but mostly ignored what happened around me. Until all four girls stood in front of me and ordered me to breakfast.

“Let me get dressed. I probably look like I feel. I’ll meet you in five minutes.”

“You promise?”

“I’d take an oath.” They left and I went upstairs. Looking at my closet I landed on black Jeans, a black and grey flannel and a black cardigan. I redid my hair into the topbun and put on some make-up after brushing my teeth. Just to cheer me up a bit I popped on my favourite ring.

I didn’t quite make my five minute promise but I got up to the Great Hall as quickly as possible. When I entered, though, I considered turning back around and asking Mimi for that toast and jam she had mentioned. They all sat at our table. Milla next to Remus and Peter, who bumped elbows with Nica. Nica talked to Blair who sat across from her and in between Chloe and James who stole some bacon from Sirius’ plate. Why?

I sighed internally and very slowly walked towards the Hufflepuffs. Maybe if I walked slowly enough they’d be done eating and I could not feel that badly. But since I didn’t move at the speed of a flubberworm, I arrived at the table before Peter had started his second course. I sat down next to Mag and across from Toby, keeping some distance between me and the Potter-posse and Crick.

“Morning, you look terrible!”, Magnus greeted me and won a slap against the shoulder.

“Charming.” He grinned at me and handed me a cup and the pot of coffee. “Thanks.”

I mindlessly grabbed a raisin roll and a chocolate muffin and started plucking them apart without really eating.

Nica waved at me.

“Huh?”

“Ugh, if you’re sure you don’t want to come to Hogwarts and spy on those two lovebirds?”

“I am. Got homework and detention.”

“Right! What d'you get?”

“Caring for the plans in the greenhouses one hour a day. Not too bad, actually.”

“You could do both tonight, you know”, Peter said trying not to spit out his sausage and fried egg.

“Not if I want to sleep at some point.”

“Sleep is for the weak! Live a little, Goods! So what if you don’t have all your homework? Nobody will die from it.” Hoarse voice, cheery tone, friendly, casual, not a trace of hostility. Was he kidding?

“Consider me weak then.” I pushed an enormous piece of muffin in my mouth and nearly suffocated.

“It will be so much fun though, shopping and following them around just the right amount”, Blair tried to change my mind.

“I hope you’ll have much fun. But I’ll sit this one out.”

“You’ve sat everything out, since the year started, Tea!”

“Was I talking to you?”

“No, but since we’re friends again, I reckon I can take an interest in your wellbeing again. You’ve spent five weeks in isolation, Black’s right, you should live a little.”

“Thanks for the input.”

“Have I done something?”

“No Crick, course not, sorry. I snuck off to the kitchens yesterday and fell asleep there, I’m just grumpy. Which is another good reason to stay here, by the way. Get some decent sleep.”

“No changing your mind?”

“None.”

The group went back to loudly planning how to spy on Remus and Milla which had those two groan, roll their eyes and giggle. I stayed out of most conversations and focussed on the destruction of yet another raisin roll. My untouched coffee had gone cold by the time the others got up.

“Coming?”, James held out his hand to help me off the bench.

“Sure”, I sighed and took his hand.

He held me back from the others a bit.

“You should have come with the others last night.”

“I was making up with Crick.”

“Before that I mean. You should’ve come outside with them.”

“To do what exactly?”

“Listen to Sirius explain.” I didn’t answer.

“He did explain all of it. Granted, it took him forever which is way too long, but he did. And I think you should have heard it. Maybe even before the others.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m glad he feels… Forget it. It’s fine.”

We arrived outside and pulled out our cigarettes while Milla and Remus waved and made their way to the village.

“This is going to be great!”, Sirius triumphed.

“It better be. We’d have one hell of a mess on our hands, if it isn’t”, Blair answered.

“Don’t be a spoilsport. It will be great, they will come back coupled up and we won’t have to listen to Remus whine about her anymore.”

“Does he do that?”

“What? No, of course not, never, don’t know why I said that”, he recovered very unconvincingly.

I took a last puff, threw the fag on the ground and went back to the foyer.

“Where do you think you’re going?”, Nica shouted.

“To bed! You are off in a minute anyways, aren’t you?”

“We’re giving them an hour head-start. Come back!”

“I’m knackered Chloe, I’ll have a lie-down.” Spoken and disappeared.

“All is not well with you.” Crick had waited for me.

“I’m really tired. Maybe some other time?”

“If you want to talk, I’m here, yeah? Even if some idiot breaks your heart.”

“Noone did. And I wouldn’t come to you with that. I’m not a sadist.”

“You could, though.” I hugged him a little longer than usual trying to express my gratefulness, appreciation and how bad I still felt, then I left him standing in the foyer and went to bed.

Felix had come up to the dorm and woken me up with a weird expression on his face, informing me that Sirius stood in the corridor waiting for me, bothering everyone who went in or out, asking them to get me for him. Groaning I got up and dressed again. I reckoned that I didn’t have a choice to avoid talking to him. After all I had just accused him of ignoring me for no apparent reason, it would be childish to do the same to him.

Breathing in and out two or three times I stood in the common room before opening the door and stepping onto the corridor.

“Goods, hey.”

“Hi.”

“You seemed…discontent this morning.”

“How late is it?”

“Just about lunch time.”

“Bloody hell, I slept for a while, then”

“Yeah, you did. I’ve been here four hours and most of your hosuemates proper hate me by now. Felix was really annoyed when I asked him to get you.”

“He’s thirteen, he’s always annoyed.” I tried a smile. It felt weird.

“Listen, you want to grab a bite and have a chat? I reckon I owe you one.”

“I’d rather not, Sirius. I’m pretty sure I know all I need to know. It’s fine. Kind of.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, yesterday cleared a couple of things up.”

“It did?”

“Yes. Just leave it, yeah?” I turned to either climb back into bed or confront my mountain of homework.

“Goods, I want to talk to you, hold up!”

“You want to talk to me? You want to talk to me? I’ve wanted to talk to you for five bloody weeks. And I’ve tried and sensationally failed, haven’t I? Can’t always get you want.”

I knocked against the barrel.

“Goo…Jette! I’m an idiot, okay? I know. But you deserve a conversation.”

“Damn right! I deserved one first day back from Christmas. Or the day after that. But I didn’t get one. I got death stares and ignorance like I had bloody murdered someone.” I stepped back from the door and lowered my voice again as more and more of my housemates went to lunch.

“I’m sorry”, Sirius hissed. “Which is why I’d like to explain it to you.

“What’s there to explain?”

“All of it!”

“You okay?” Felix and Marvin had just climbed out on the corridor.

“Sure”, I answered.

“You don’t look it.” He turned to Sirius. “She hasn’t had an easy couple of weeks, right? And she’s not good with waking up. Don’t upset her anymore, mate.” He looked into Sirius’ face all earnest and protective and I didn’t think I either ever respected or loved him as much as in that moment.

“I really don’t intend to upset her. I’m trying to apologise and make things right.” What I saw of Sirius’ expression was melancholic.

“You’re a stellar brother, Felix, you know that? She’s lucky to have you.”

“She really is”, I agreed kissing Felix on the cheek and sending him away.

“He’s looking out for you”, Sirius sadly smiled.

“He better be. I’ve done enough of that for him for years. Should’ve seen him in his first year. Lost little idiot.”

“Yeah, I can imagine. Same thing with Reg…” The smile vanished from his face.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. But I am. So, please have lunch with me?” I sighed deeply. I contemplated for a moment. I walked towards the stairs.

“Thanks, Goods. I appreciate it.”

“Hang on! Should you not be in Hogsmeade spying on Remus?”, I suddenly asked when it occurred to me that he had so looked forward to that little mission.

“Oh, the rest are covering that. Thought this was more important.”

We went up in silence, both wondering where this talk would actually leave us. Sirius pulled me to the very empty Gryffindor table. It was the emptiest of all four of them, only first and second years, Sirius and I. My own table next to it was a little more populated. Obviously the snow and cold kept some people form the village. Most Slytherins were apparently battling the weather and most Ravenclaws had decided to stay in.

Staring at the bowls and plates in front of me I realised I still wasn’t hungry although I barely touched my breakfast apart from brutally mutilating it. Unwillingly I piled some salad on my plate and decorated it with a bit of chicken breast. Sirius took half the total amount of chicken wings and drowned them in ketchup. I waited for him to speak, but he didn’t. He thoroughly enjoyed his food and I forced myself to finish mine. When a third of his plate was cleared he looked up from it and turned to his left, facing me. His face was covered in ketchup, he didn’t care or didn’t notice. I handed him a napkin.

“What did you mean when you said that yesterday cleared up things? I mean it might have for the others because they didn’t know what you knew, but what on earth did it clear up for you?”

I bit my lip and hesitated. He jumped his shadow, I should, too.

“The girls said some things, when they wanted to come pick me up to go upstairs that just…made me understand things better. No need for you to repeat it.”

“Come again?”

“They said that you had told them all about it because there was no need to keep it a secret from your friends.”

“Exactly.”

“That’s that, then.”

“What?”

“Well, I took the hint. That’s why I didn’t join you guys.”

“What hint?”

“Are you serious?”

“Always.” I couldn’t help but chuckle. Should’ve known better than to use that word.

“The way they found out is identical to the way I found out. Not asking for it but hearing it anyway. And you tell them all about it because they’re your friends.”

“Right…”

“Well, that told me all I needed to know.”

“I’m clearly missing something. Mind just telling me what you know.”

“Ugh…” I pushed my plate away and rubbed my hand over my face probably messing up my make-up.

“Do I have to?”

“Please. You seem to think that that means more than it does and I’d like to understand that.”

“It’s not that difficult: They are your friends, so you tell them what’s up when they hear about your housing situation. I’m not your friend, so you don’t tell me. I get that. So,I guess I can go?”

I got up and walked outside to the courtyard. Sirius caught up with me at the first of the icy steps.

“You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“What else should I believe? When I found I seized existing for weeks.”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“But what. Look, it’s fine, really. I don’t fully understand what I’ve done wrong but nobody can be liked by everybody and you don’t have to be friends with me to be friends with them. You just have to accept my presence. As long as you can do that…”

“Will you shut up?”, Sirius interrupted my babbling. “That is not true. None of that is true, yeah? You are my friend. I took a bloody punch for you. By a guy who’s built like a small mountain troll. I do not do that for people I dislike.”

“But…why… how…what?”

“I would have talked to you last night anyways, Goods. James, Remus and Peter set me straight. They were furious. Don’t ever doubt their friendship; I think they were ready to drop me for you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Maybe not dropped me completely. The point is that I’m an idiot and you’re my friend. If you still want to be. Seeing how I’m an idiot…”

“Yeah, I want to be your friend, why d’you think I blew up at you.”

“Fine. Friends. Good Merlin. Thought that was obvious after we rescued you from Cricket…”

“So, did I but then you ignored me…”

“Said I’m sorry, haven’t I? Can you just let me explain?”

“Only if we go back inside, I’m freezing.”

He smiled and led me back into the castle and the prefect lounge. We didn’t talk on the way up. I didn’t know what to say anyways, I was rather confused.

In the lounge Sirius ignited the logs in the fireplace and I found some left over bottles of butterbeer.

“Nice!”

“I’m all ears”, I said after the first sip and gave Sirius my undivided attention.

“Right. Okay. Where do I start?”

“Where did you start yesterday?”

“Answering all the question the girls had”, he laughed.

“I have a question but I don’t know whether I want it answered.”

“Go for it.”

“When I realised you lived with James although your parents are alive and well I kind of assumed they… chased you out of their house. That right?”

“Sort of. I mean, you could say that. Look, I’ll go a bit far back in the story to answer that, yeah? That might be easiest.” I nodded.

“Here we go: My parents are pathetic, vile, racist people who love their so called blood purity and hate everything that isn’t a pureblood wizard or witch. I didn’t get that when I was young and I don’t get it now. And I’ve always let them know that I neither understand nor agree. When I was younger they didn’t make a big deal out of it, kept repeating their credo to me and hoped with all the traditional pureblood education I’d get the hang of it in time.

That changed when I started Hogwarts, got sorted into Gryffindor and befriended James, Peter and Remus. A bloodtraitor and two halfbloods were not who my parents wanted me to spend my time with. When I came home for Christmas they told me they were disappointed and expected me to use my position in Gryffindor House to spy on all those unworthy of magic so they could use that information in the Ministry to get unpure blood banned from Hogwarts. I refused. I told them I liked the blood traitors and halfbloods I knew and stuff like that. That’s when it started.” He paused and took a sip of his drink. He didn’t start talking again.

“The violence?”, I asked in a whisper. Truly, I wanted him to say no.

“Yeah”, he answered just as quiet. He took another sip of his bottle. “At first it was just a well-placed slap across the face and some yelling about how I was not serving my name. But the more they forced their views on me, the more I rebelled against them. Didn’t help that James and his family are normal purebloods who showed me how it could and should be done right. That made me even angrier at their ideals and twisted darkness. So, basically I escalated the rebellion and they escalated the repercussions. Slaps became punches, one became five and then ten and then don’t ask me how many, telling me I wasn’t serving my name turned into calling me a disappointment, a disgrace, a waste of space. You know…”

“I knew I didn’t want an answer to that question.” I felt a lump build in my throat and my eyes water. I usually wasn’t such a cry-baby.

“Oh, it’s no big deal…

“Yeah, it is! How could you even say that? It’s the biggest deal! They are your parents, they’re supposed to protect you and love you and tell you everything’s gonna be alright and be proud of you and support you. They’re not supposed to harm you, Sirius! Or break you down mentally. It is a huge deal.” While I spoke the lump in my throat grew and got audible, my voice cracked a bit. Sirius looked up at the sound of that.

“Woah, no crying! It’s alright.”

“It’s not alright! It’s amazing you’re not some whimp or an elitist arsehole or the worst person ever, fucking miracle that! You deserve so much better! Don’t tell me it’s alright! It’s not. Not even a bit.” By now tears were streaming down my face, clearly alarming Sirius.

“Goods… I don’t know what to do, now. The other girls didn’t cry. What do I do?”

I didn’t answer but leaned over and hugged him tightly. Sobbing like a toddler at the idea of the terror that he’d been through for the past five years. After a moment or two he hugged me back, rubbing my back, going “shhhhh” all the time.

“You know it’s not alright, yeah?”, I asked when I had calmed down enough.

“I know it’s not normal. And I know they’re wrong. But I am alright. Because I’m with the Potters now, and I got a family that actually functions and very good but sobby friends. So, please don’t feel sorry for me.”

“Of course I feel sorry for you!” Sirius let me go and pushed me away, his eyes narrowed and brows furrowed. I was confused. What had I done now?

“I knew it! This is exactly what I told them and they all went ‘no, she’s not like that, she won’t look down on you.’ And I believed it! I don’t need your pity!”

“I don’t pity you”, I forced myself to sound calm and neither shocked nor offended. “I am sorry for you.”

“Same bloody thing!”

“Not at all. You are my friend. I respect you and I care about you. That means I want you to be happy. I want you to be well. I want you to be unharmed. I want you to be as whole as possible. So, when you’re not happy, when you’re not well, when you are harmed, when you’re being broken, I feel sorry for that. Not because I look down on you but because I’m hurt on your account. You honestly think, I’d cry for you if I didn’t respect you? If I didn’t care?” I still forced myself to remain calm but it took all I had.

“You don’t think I’m a pathetic loser?”

“Sirius, why would I?”

“Cause you have such a perfect family. All of you. You all managed to be yourselves and believe in the right thing and make your parents proud. Why would you not think I’m an utter failure?”

“They are the failure! They failed you! And if you think any of us would judge you for what you’ve been through, then we have, too. But not you. Not you.” I closed the distance between us and forced him to look at me by pulling up his face with both my hands.

“You have done nothing wrong. And we all know that. You’ve stood up for what you believe in to terrible and horrifying people and you’ve come out a strong and kind person. We know that and we see that and we respect that, so much. But we still hurt for you. We’re still sorry you had to go through it. You got that?”

“I got that.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” I let go of him and returned to where he’d pushed me.

“Is that why you didn’t talk to me. Because you thought I’d judge you, I’d laugh at you?”

“Honestly, after that speech I’d rather not say…”

“As long as you don’t think it anymore.” He gave me a weak smile.

“Not anymore.”

“Good.”

“Want to hear the rest of it?”

“The rest of it?”

“Like how I ended up at James’.”

“Yes and no.”

“So, my parents had a dinner discussion about werewolves, one night. It was during the summer holidays and there had just been an article in the Prophet about how there is a German organisation that has set up a full-moon-camp for werewolves. If you’re affected you sign up and then they take care of you over the full moon. The idea is for families to not be as affected or whatever. Great initiative. Obviously my parents hated it.

They told each other how it would be a great idea to set the whole camp on fire on a full moon night just to ‘end that pest’. Now, I don’t know what you think of werewolves but I tend to think they shouldn’t be liquidiated for existence.”

“Agreed. Most days they are just normal people and when they turn, they’re not themselves anymore. I’ll be honest: I do not need to run into a werewolf during a full moon. There’s a reason they are classified as one of the most dangerous creatures, but I’m mainly sad for them. The people I mean.”

“Well, my parents would hate you. Even more. Anyways, I told them pretty much what you just said. Which… didn’t fly with them. And because they had spent the entire time I was with them by screaming at me and using me as their personal punching ball – don’t look like that! – they decided I would be given one more chance to return to their noble and ancient ideals. So, they made me. Literally. They made me do what they wanted me to do. Brought in a stray mixed blood dog and had me kick it.”

“When you say made me…”

“Imperius.” I had to find every last bit of strength to not cry again. There was a very good reason that curse was an unforgivable one.

“And when that didn’t have the desired effect they rounded the evening out with a Cruciatus. I was knock-out for about half a day, then I wrote to James and flooed over there. Never looked back.”

“Thank God for Euphemia and Fleamont. I’m glad you’re out of there.”

“So am I.”

We drank up our butterbeers without another word and silently agreed to go back out to the courtyard after a while. Before we opened the door of the prefects’ lounge I hugged him again. Practically buried my face in his neck, one arm around it, one around his waist. I didn’t cry, I didn’t say anything. I just stood there wrapped around him, trying to stop his hands from shaking, which hadn’t been still since he told me about his sorting. I hoped he’d understand what I was trying to convey.

“You smell like something very familiar but I can’t put my finger on it”, Sirius said after half an eternity. Difficult to say if I had succeeded in my mission.

“Coconut”, I answered.

“I like it.”

“Thanks.”

“You can let go now, Jette. I’m good. We’re good.” I let go and smiled at him. He opened the door and we left.

#marauders fanfiction #marauders era #james & peter & remus & sirius #james potter #remus lupin #sirius black #peter pettigrew #harry potter #original character

[thedreadwolfcometh]

Wild Man WIP

The soft twang of the guitar chord danced gently through the din of the Rye’s annual cookout, the bustle under morning light filled with camaraderie and cheer so common in small towns. Especially small towns with a prevalent and very enthusiastic gun loving community; and a decently sized militia- but none of the Whitetail’s seemed to be in attendance- most likely preferring the comfortable solitude of the Mountain’s. A comfort Abigail herself often enjoyed, but she wasn’t averse to the company of her friends now and again, and when Nick and Kim put on their cookouts, she was more than happy to attend.

Nick had always been a friend of hers, his cheerful disposition a welcome reprieve from both her own solitude and Sharky’s almost suicidal enthusiasm for anything willing to catch fire. Kim balanced him, and quickly became a friend of hers in turn, offering a firm hand on her arm and an uplifting word when she needed it….But it wasn’t needed now, so the two were in a heated discussion in the kitchen about whether or not raisin’s belonged in potato salad. Abigail herself sat comfortably on the railing of the porch, gently plucking away at the guitar Nick had bought, insisting he was going to learn to surprise Kim. Unfortunately, his fingers possessed limited dexterity and he sang like a wailing cat, but Kim was still touched by the sentiment, even though she made him promise to never pick up the instrument again.

Shielded from the daylight, Abigail spun out a soft tune, plucking at the strings and watching their minute vibrations as her hair fell into her face, catching the rays of sunlight revealing streaks that seemed to be of spun gold.

“Having fun?” She looked up to see Grace, Grace Armstrong, the face plastered in stoic expression’s across the county now soft and warm, glowing in the daylight. She wore a loose t-shirt, advertising one of her sponsors, a free gift, most likely, and light wash jeans, faded and worn, loose and accommodating . Her hair was tied low in a loose bun, small wisps framing her face as she smiled softly at Abigail, who couldn’t help but smile back in response.

“Yeah, but if you ask me to play ‘Freebird’ I’m chasing you across the property.” Grace chuckled at that, leaning against the porch entrance and raising her beer to her lips.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Abi. I know you’ve got a mean arm, and you know I’m better at a distance.” The older woman replied.

“Could shoot the fly off a horse’s ass at fifty yards.” Mr. Armstrong came sauntering out of the kitchen, a smile that Abigail only knew as comforting rising to his face. He put his arm proudly around his daughters shoulders and gave her a gentle jostle.

“Yeah, and don’t you forget it, old man.” Grace tried to sound tough, but couldn’t hide the smile that peaked out above the lip of her beer.

The three of them looked out at the already large crowd of people gathered on the Rye’s rather expansive property, they made out Hurk Jr. trying to pull his father away from a rather heated argument at the bar.

“Is Hurk Sr. at it again?” Kim had emerged from the kitchen, hands on her hips and an exasperated look on her face. “Don’t know why he even comes,”

“Or why you even keep inviting him.” Grace chimed in, taking a long sip of her beer.

“Aw, come on now, Grace. It’s open invite. Anyone can come so long as they bring something.” Nick had now emerged from the kitchen, standing in the doorway, slinging his arms around his wife, planting a kiss atop her head.

“Does that include a bad attitude?” Kim replied, crossing her arms and Nick laughed behind her.

Grace squinted, lowering her beer.

“Oh, hell no.” She muttered, her gaze focused on an area up the drive.

Abigail followed her gaze to a sleek, black, pickup truck. Newer and nicer than any of the beat up work trucks already parked on the Rye property. The windows were tinted, blocking any view of the interior, but Abigail knew there was only one probable occupant of a truck that nice.

“Don’t tell me-” Mr. Armstrong muttered, his once soft gaze now turning steely.

He had no chance to finish his sentence before the penultimate bastard himself emerged from the car. John Seed, hair slicked back, pulling his sunglasses off his eyes to rest atop his head- stepped out of the car in one fluid motion, looking every bit the smug lawboy asshole he was known to be. He was dressed in his typical ensemble, a dress shirt with the top few buttons opened, a tantalizing sight for women with no standards and men willing to make terrible decisions, she was sure. From the other side of the car his brother, The Father, stepped into the light and out of the shade of the car. His glasses remained on his face, and he was dressed more modestly than his brother, not that it was difficult. A plain white linen shirt and a black vest, adorned with a small embroidered mark of the project. He held something in his hands, wrapped in foil.

“Oh great, who invited the loons?” Grace muttered.

“Well it’s open invite…” Nick muttered sheepishly, earning a well placed elbow from his wife.

Abigail squinted, the two back doors swung open as well, and from the passengers side emerged….what was quite possibly the prettiest woman she had ever seen. She’d only heard about her, Faith Seed, with her golden hair and delicate gait. The blonde woman stepped out of the car, her light yellow dress drifting in the breeze, the sunlight catching on the wisps of her hair. Abigail hadn’t realized she was gawking until Faith’s gaze caught her own, her fine features brightening into a smile as Abigail quickly shifted her gaze away. She peered over the top of the car to see who was emerging from the other side…

To see a man that dwarfed all of his siblings, an absolute wall of a man, face marred with burns and scars. He sauntered around the front of the car after his brothers, opting for a flannel with the sleeves rolled up, a shirt underneath, and jeans probably more accustomed to work than family outings.

‘He looks like the poster child of reclusive mountain men…’ Abigail thought to herself, gently plucking a small hymn on the guitar as she continued to observe the imposing figure who carried himself equal parts casually, and like he was ready to spring to action and bolt at any moment. His gait was straight, not a swaying saunter like John, whose body language was full of bravado and sweeping motions, nor was it calm, composed like Joseph’s, whose every motion seem dripped in the same strange otherworldliness she imagined fair folk possessed in children’s stories. No, his walk was organized, shoulders balanced, no overeager lean forward that many people used to seem empathetic and overeager. He walked with the similarity of a predator surveying new territory, both anxious and sure of itself. She caught his gaze as he slightly turned his head to survey the gaggle of people now trying to discreetly look at the newcomers.

Abigail took note of the...knife. Yes, a knife- strapped to his thigh. It was a hunting knife, not unlike those used to skin deer. An object most everybody in Hope County owned, but generally didn’t bring to a cookout. Around his neck there were...a paw of some kind, what looked like a whistle or a charm, and dog tags.

‘That explains the way he walks,’ She thought to herself, her gaze trailing upwards….right into his almost annoyingly blue eyes. He was looking at her, but looking was probably too light of a word to use. Staring would probably be a better descriptor. Had he seen her sizing him up?

Their eyes locked, and the large man cocked an eyebrow, and she swore from beneath his beard she could sense the faintest trace of a smile. She cocked her own brow in response, which prompted him to tilt his head in the convergence right beside them.

Brought back down to the situation at hand, Abigail was quickly drawn into the conversation by the theatric tones of John’s voice as him and ‘The Father’ stepped up onto the porch.

“Ahhh, Nick, how lovely it is to see you! Kim, you’re looking as radiant as ever.” John had a smile made for television, and what made him insufferable was the fact that he knew it. Nick sheepishly scratched his beard and Kim grimaced, making no secret of her disdain.

“Thanks.” The short woman responded flatly, her eyes flicking between the two brothers now standing on her porch, now flanked by the Armstrong’s. “You here for the cookout?”

“Ah, yes-” John started, but as his brother stepped forward he quickly grew silent.

“We were hoping to partake in the festivities,” Joseph’s voice was soft, melodic, almost calming if not for the occasionally alarming things he said. “We’ve brought a dish. Though, I confess, neither me nor my brothers are known to be cooks. Forgive me if it is lacking.” He held out the wrapped offering for Kim to take, but it was Nick’s quick hands that took it, both men bobbing their heads in Southern politeness before Nick escaped back into the kitchen- leaving his wife under the capable protection of Abigail and the Armstrong’s.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence after Nick disappeared, Abigail not moving from her seat, and neither of the Armstrong’s budging an inch, both stone straight. Kim shifted her weight from one hip to the other, and Abigail could sense Joseph eyeing each and every one of them from behind his glasses. His gaze stopped on her.

‘Oh, fucking fuck,’

He tilted his head. “Will you be playing for us this evening?”

All eyes were on her now. ALL of them. The Armstrong’s, The Seed’s, even Kim had stopped glaring at John to look at her. Abigail wanted to crawl under the porch and not leave until everyone was gone and the Rye’s had gone to bed. But she met Joseph’s gaze, pulling one, last, uneasy chord.

“On and off, I suppose. Or until someone starts throwing tomatoes at me. People here can be philistines.” She attempted to joke. With ‘The Father’. The guy who led the cult next door. She tried to joke with Joseph Fucking Seed. Fuck. What the fuck? Why did she do that? No one was laughing. She wanted to die. Shit. Shit!

A beat. Two beats.

And then, Joseph Seed actually smiled, a small, almost unnoticeable smile, and from behind the glint of his glasses she couldn’t tell if it was the grim ‘I’m going to kill you for this slight’ smile, or a ‘You have amused me mortal child’ smile.

“I do hope you play for us, Ms. Prince.” He knew her name. How did he know her name? Not like she was a hermit, but the fact that she was enough of a blip on Joseph Seed’s radar for him to know her name left a cold pit in her stomach. “And I’m sure Jacob wouldn’t let that happen, my brother is quite the fan of music.”

Abigail merely smiled and nodded, and after another insufferably long moment of silence, he turned off the porch. She caught John looking at her with the same sickening fixation he had pinned on an unfortunate group of Hope County’s female population, before following after his brother. Faith had already gone off to socialize, and ‘Jacob’ strayed away from the crowds and had instead gone to observe Nick’s airfield, now adorned with games and obstacles.

Abigail, and, unsurprisingly, let out a breath they didn’t realize they’d been holding and looked at each other with expressions that ranged from ‘well that could have been worse’ to ‘I would rather have been forced to listen to one of Zip Kupka’s rants while being set on fire’.

“Well that….happened.” Grace broke the silence as Kim dropped her arms and let out a sigh.

“Looks like The Seed’s have an eye on you, Abigail- or at least Joseph.” Mr. Armstrong looked at her with a sympathetic gaze.

“I’d think that’d be the worst one to be fixin’ to have an eye on you.” Nick emerged from the doorway.

“I don’t know, I’d say John would be the worst. From what Mary May’s told me, at least.” Kim responded, elbowing her husband gently.

“I’d be more concerned about their big brother Jacob. He was military, and the training alongside his brothers’ fanaticism can’t lead to anything good.” Grace stared out across the property, still stock straight until her father patted a hand on her shoulder, all tension leaving her body at that simple, paternal gesture.

“Gracey, you get yourself way too worked up. You’re home now, not in Afghanistan.” Mr. Armstrong's soft voice seemed to relax as daughter, and she took a deep breath.

Exhale.

“...Yeah.” Grace responded, looking at Abigail. “Still, don’t need to tell you to be careful, do I, Ab?” A small, knowing smile crossed her lips, and a similar one came to Abigail’s face as well- a tired, wry, but knowing smile.

“No, Grace. You don’t.”

#please be nice i'm delicate