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ariadnewhitlock · 11 months

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Lost in the Supermarket || Andy & Ariadne

TIMING: Last week LOCATION: A grocery store in town PARTIES: Ariadne @ariadnewhitlock & Andy @declinlalune SUMMARY: Ariadne and Andy are both shopping, when they suddenly end up somewhere that is… not home. CONTENT WARNINGS: none!

She’d told her parents that she would run and do a grocery shopping before their family dinner. It wa something that had been tradition for years, and despite her lack of needing to eat, it was still something that brought Ariadne comfort, and made her life feel at least partially normal, despite the fact that nearly everything else felt entirely strange.

Ariadne had grabbed a few items and was pushing a cart around the store - trying to not grab too many more sweets (though, thankfully, her parents were exceedingly understanding with her newfound extreme sweet tooth) than were needed. She spotted another figure by the salad dressings. “I - excuse me, I’m between the Italian dressing and the honey mustard - do you have a favorite? Also open to other options.”

Andy needed to pick up a few things on her way home from work, and it made the most sense to stop at an actual grocery store rather than the corner store, or even the pharmacy. If she brought home more peach rings, Kaden may actually kill her. The bottle of wine– not as expensive as anything Kaden would deem good wine, but more expensive than what she and Alex had presented him upon his arrival, was an afterthought. The velveeta block– a stance against Kaden’s cheese-monger ways, a forethought, and the bottle of Italian dressing a means to redeem herself for being called unhealthy.

As she went to grab a packet of croutons, Andy heard a voice amongst the dull radio that played over the speakers. “Uhhh…” She looked back towards the dressings, then pointed to the one she’d thrown in her cart. “I hear it’s healthy, but usually we just eat chunks of lettuce if we think we need greens.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, but maybe a small exaggeration. “What are you making? Might determine what’s better and what’s shit.”

“Some sort of mixed greens salad. I think my mom’s going to just throw like, lettuce and tomatoes and lots of carrots. Cucumber, maybe?” Ariadne offered the other woman a small smile, “I think chunks of lettuce sounds pretty fantastic, personally.” She glanced down at the floor, “personally, I’d rather have a bag of gummy bears, but I do at least sort of like salad. I like that you can put lots of different dressings on it.”

“You just - you seem like you probably know stuff, and you’d think I’d know better, but I guess - I don’t know. Long day of classes makes me less sure of myself.” As well as the whole recent undead thing. Ariadne bit her lip, “thanks a lot, for talking to me.”

“Cucumber is good, goes well with Italian dressing.” Really, Andy wasn’t a fan of thick dressings like ranch, which, if one were to look at her other dietary choices, would be a surprise. She hated that she’d become the woman in the aisle discussing salad dressing, but that’d been her sad reality since things had slown down. The lack of running meant a steadier lifestyle, and somehow, that meant discussing dinner plans.

“Gummy bears are good, but peach rings are where it’s at.” She smiled kindly at the younger girl before grabbing another pack of croutons, deciding that she could use a snack for the ride home. Andy’s brows arched at the blonde’s clarification that it seemed like she knew stuff. She couldn’t help but laugh, and with a shrug, she turned fully towards the younger woman. “Sure, whatever. Take my word on the peach rings though, they go above and beyond gummy bears.”

“Ooh, that’s true! I don’t like the dressings that feel all soupy or whatever - if you’re going to have soup, you might as well have that, right?” Ariadne made a face.”Anyhow, thanks. I think I’ll go with that one.”

Another pause, and, “I’ll have to maybe get some of those before I leave.” Even though she’d decided not to get much candy this time, she couldn’t resist trying something fun and new. She wasn’t entirely sure how she’d missed out on trying peach rings before, but that could all change today. Ariadne was just about to thank the other woman again when she heard a small crash. “Should we go and make sure everyone’s okay?”

“Haven’t thought about it that way, but sure.” Andy smiled at the young girl, pushing her cart to the side so that somebody else could pass through. As much as she wanted to sit and discuss salad dressings, it was about time she started to head home.

At least, it would have been. The crash was loud and disorienting, but there were no screams that accompanied it. Maybe something had fallen off of the shelves, or maybe somebody ran their cart into something. Andy couldn’t be sure, but it didn’t hurt to go and check it out. At the young girl’s question, Andy nodded slowly before turning on her heel, leaving the cart behind. Andy rounded the corner, immediately taking note of the door that had driven itself into the ground. Except there were no cracks at its base, and nothing else was disturbed. Andy’s brows pulled together and she looked behind her at the blonde. “Did you notice this before?”

At least the other woman was being nice to her. Ariadne was certain that she didn’t make any sense, and so the kindness was even more appreciated than usual.

Except that the red-head had taken off quickly and Ariadne couldn’t help but follow her. Even if she probably shouldn’t have. Curiosity undoing various animals’ lives and whatnot. There was a door in the ground. A door, in the ground, in the middle of the aisle. It sounded like the beginning of a questionably written children’s book. “I - no. I mean, I don’t think so, but I also am pretty sure I’d notice that, no matter how distracted I was. Did you?”

“No, I didn’t.” Andy looked at the door apprehensively, knowing well enough when to leave things alone. She thought about the painting that she and Metzli had gotten sucked through and knew that if something like that happened again, she might not be smart enough to get them out. That’d been Metzli’s doing, and Metzli wasn’t here. Instead, Andy’s company was a kid, probably around Alex’s age.

“Just don’t touch it.” Andy turned her back on the door which might have been her first mistake, because it flung open and an undetermined force of energy began to suck her through, as well as the cookies on the opposite shelf. “No– god dammit, no!” She tried to grab onto the edge of the door, but it was no help. Instead, she was being flung through, encapsulated in darkness.

“That’s super weird.” She made a face again, turning her head to look at the door. “I’d say it’s maybe some art installation, but I - don’t think it’s that.” Ariadne sighed. Which meant it was something else, and probably not something she’d like. Not that she was entirely opposed to new things, but new things that weren’t supposed to be there did a number on her anxieties.

“I won’t.” Except just as she said that, the door opened by its own accord and pulled the both of them in. Which Ariadne really didn’t like. She balled up her fists as they both hit the ground - though it was a few minutes before she opened her eyes - to what looked practically identical to where they’d just been. Except black-and-white. She looked over to the other woman, “uh. I’m not imagining things, am I?”

Maybe Andy had been too afraid to open her eyes for longer than normal, or maybe she’d taken a minute to adjust to the fact that they were back in the grocery store, but it was void of any color, aside from herself and the young girl beside her. Why the fuck did this keep happening to her, and why were portals decidedly opening up to suck her into some other dimension?

At least there didn’t seem to be any fog. Andy looked over at the blonde as she spoke and gave a short shake of her head before she got to her feet. She reached out to help the girl up before turning in a slow circle, taking in their surroundings. Definitely no fog, no lake. Maybe the door was the stupid painting’s cousin. “Just stay next to me, ok?” She cast a glance over at the blonde, offering a small smile. She took a step forward and glanced down the aisle, noting that the cereal boxes which were often in an array of colors looked like something sad out of a catalog that’d been discontinued. “What do they say about Kansas?” She couldn’t remember the exact quote, or the movie it came from, but she knew she was right on the nose with the reference.

“You don’t have to tell me that twice.” Ariadne nodded, trying to do her best to catch her breath. Whatever version of breath she had, anyhow. She wasn’t exactly thrilled - which was an incredible understatement, but still. “I’ll stay right by you.” The woman mentioned something about Kansas –

“Oh, like from The Wizard of Oz?” She looked over to the other woman, “there’s no place like home? Except this is sort of a reverse of that movie, ‘cause in that one she goes to the colorful world, and we… didn’t.” Again, stating the obvious. Ariadne was grateful that the woman didn’t seem to put put off by Ariadne’s utter lack of ability to string together anything remotely coherent. “You didn’t fall asleep, did you?” This wasn’t some awful nightmare she’d created, was it? “Sorry, just trying to wrap my head around all of this.”

Andy wasn’t sure what was happening, or why the door had appeared in the first place, but if it were anything like what had happened at Metzli’s gallery, then there was definitely a way to get out. She took a deep breath and tried her best to center herself. There was no use in freaking out, especially when anxiety was written all over the girl that’d gotten pulled into this mess.

“Maybe? I’m not sure, I’ve never actually seen it.” She wasn’t well versed in pop culture– that was more of Alex’s thing. Though, she wasn’t sure if the movie being referenced was much of an impact to pop culture as it stood. “What?” At Ariadne’s question, Andy shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. This isn’t a Freddy Flintstone situation is it?” She hadn’t taken the time to realize that wasn’t the correct reference, but did it matter? “No, I’m awake, and you are, too, I’m pretty sure.” She bit down on the inside of her cheek as she took another step around one of the aisles, then realized quickly that each had a door. “So I’m guessing you’ve never seen anything like this?”

“That’s fair. It’s not my favorite movie, I just watched it when I was little once or twice.” They couldn’t be trapped forever, could they? Ariadne certainly hoped not. “I don’t know who that is, but no?” Again, she hoped not. She’d been more optimistic as a child, able to try and convince Chance into trying new things (albeit with limited success, but still). “Yes, I’m awake.” I can’t sleep held back on her lips, because that wasn’t something you said to strangers. For all her failures, that was one thing Ariadne had been fairly good about. To prove it to herself, she bit down hard on her lip, and the wince was proof enough.

“Uh, no. I mean, I’ve seen the grocery store, but not in black-and-white, and I’ve never gotten pulled through a magic - is that the right word to use? I don’t know - but still, a magic door. Have you?” She couldn’t have, could she? Because things like this didn’t happen. Except that clearly they did, given the situation that the two of them were in at the moment. Ariadne looked over the other woman’s shoulder. “Uh - I think I see another door?”

“Huh.” So maybe she and Ariadne had more in common than Andy had originally thought. Where the blonde was all nervous energy, Andy felt like she was going to bolt through the ceiling. Maybe that was because of the nerves, but she had to get them out of here– wherever here was. She cursed herself for already having been in a similar situation. She looked for labels, but everything seemed to be a mish mash of words, not really forming any coherent sentence.

At her question, Andy looked over her shoulder at the younger girl and shook her head, then thought for a moment. “Got pulled into a painting once. Had some evil fog, but I got out.” She left Metzli out of the story, not wanting to out them for their cursed paintings. “But a grocery store turning black and white and a bunch of doors popping up? Nah, this is new.” The subject of magic should have been a touchy one, because that in itself had ties to the supernatural. But Ariadne seemed to know about it, so Andy didn’t bother trying to convince her it was something else. That wasn’t her job anymore, anyway. She wanted to protect people, but not by lying to them.

Once they came upon another door, Andy’s brows pulled together. She opened it and felt herself being pulled in again. Darkness, and then– the same environment. Black and white– void of any actual words on the packaging, and more doors. “What the fuck.” At least this time she hadn’t landed on her ass. “Hey, kid?” Andy called out, quickly stepping out of the aisle and looking down at another.

“Come on, I thought art was safe.” The words spilled from her mouth involuntarily, “sorry. Sorry, that was rude of me. I just - I’m so sorry you had to deal with that. Glad you got out.” Ariadne nodded. “It’s a very weird - no offense to the black-and-white store - situation - and I mean, getting lost in the store is one thing, but this seems to take that a few steps further.” It was all very confusing, the whole magic doors thing, but since apparently vampires and werewolves and what she was were real, it only made sense for magic to be, too. Maybe. It was giving her something of an awful headache, but she could focus on that later. Not now, when she wasn’t even in town. Or in the real town.

Ariadne watched as Andy disappeared into another door, only to fall out of another one moments later. “What the heck is right.” She glanced up at the door. “Why does it have a number on it?”

“I said fuck.” Andy squinted at the door, but prematurely shook her head at the blonde for what she had said. “Sorry. I’m just. Frustrated.” She grit her teeth and looked at the door that the other had been drawn to before glancing down the aisle, noticing that there were several different doors, all with different numbers. It took her a moment, but she got it.

“The doors. We need to open them in order.” This wasn’t as easy as just finding words carved into trees, but at least she felt like she had it figured out. “It’s like a maze, I think.” She and Alex had gone to a maze in one of the Carolinas after getting back to the states. It’d been an attempt on Andy’s part to impart normalcy into their lives.

“Yes - well - I’d prefer to probably not use that word, if it’s okay with you.” Which wasn’t even the point right now, but Ariadne wanted to make sure that Andy had heard her correctly. “No - I’m sorry. I - you’re obviously allowed to be frustrated, I am too, I just - also confused”

She followed Andy’s gaze. “Order?” She shook her head. Well, of all the people to get lost with, at least it had been someone who was apparently very good at problem solving. If they got back, Ariadne figured it would only be the polite thing to do to offer to buy Andy something, or at least make her a thank you card. “In order. Okay.” She could do that. “Like from 1, or from the highest number?”

Andy ignored her comment about not wanting to curse, deciding that explaining she hadn’t meant offense by it was not important at the moment. The black and white was beginning to merge into itself and it was getting harder to remember what colors actually were, save for the ones she was wearing already. Even her own skin seemed to be dulling out.

“I–” She bit her lip and chewed it between her teeth. “I’ll try to go from the highest. If that doesn’t work, then we know it's the lowest.” Hopefully nothing would happen by doing that. So Andy trotted off, yanking open the door with the number 12 above it. It spat her back out and a shuddering sound vibrated above her head. Slightly disoriented, Andy rubbed her temples, squinting past the aisle she’d been deposited into. “Let’s try for lowest. We should do it together, in case something happens.”

“Okay. Highest first, and then lowest, okay.” Ariadne figured that made sense - as much as any of this did, right now. They had to try something, because if they didn’t try anything, then they’d be stuck here forever - and given that apparently she was going to live forever, Ariadne found the prospect of that extremely unappealing. That and she’d be responsible for Andy’s death, even if not on purpose.

“Together works for me.” She looked over at Andy. “I guess we should just… go for it? On three?” Ariadne began counting, hardly waiting for an answer - which she knew wasn’t polite, but she also knew that if she thought too much, she’d get all up in her head about everything and then nothing would be accomplished. “One… two… three.” She stepped into the door, hoping Andy was with her, only to find herself back in the supermarket. Her head was spinning. “Okay - well - that didn’t - should we find number 2, then? I don’t know if that did anything.”

The only reason Andy felt confident in any sense of the word about their situation was because of what happened with Metzli. While she didn’t necessarily want to thank them for the experience since they’d been the one to get her into it to begin with, at least she knew what patterns to look out for here.

Andy followed her through the door and nothing happened. Instead of being spat back out, they simply walked through as if it were a normal door. Her head felt a little fuzzy, but nothing like before. She blinked rapidly, trying to regain some composure, before looking above her head. “Wait. No, look! None of the doors changed. We have to go find number 3 now.” She didn’t wait for Ariadne to follow her. Instead, she headed towards the aisle with the giant number 3 on it, holding onto the knob, waiting for Ariadne to arrive. Once she did, she pulled it open, and she felt herself stepping through, just like before. “Number 4 next.”

She wondered if her technical inability to feel fear was the only reason that she wasn’t completely panicked right now. Even so, Ariadne figured that she wasn’t exactly doing as well as she might have wished.

“Okay, okay.” Andy knew what she was talking about, and Ariadne was extremely grateful for that. “Yes, number three sounds good.” She did her best to follow Andy as quickly as was possible, only slightly flinching this time when they made it through the doors. Which was an improvement, given that she still felt wholly and entirely overwhelmed by the situation at hand. She waited until the other woman was near her, and then ducked through door four, only to once again be spit right back out. Which meant it was working, right? “I think I’m going to need to lie down after this. I never thought of it as so much effort going through doors.”

“I’m feeling a little lightheaded, too, but come on– we’ve got this.” Andy gave the blonde a reassuring smile before she led the way to door number five. The same thing happened to them. They arrived on the other side with no numbers above their heads changed.

She refused to get trapped here in this colorless world. Her own skin continued to desaturate, so much so that even her freckles were barely visible. Andy wondered what her hair looked like. Hopefully she wouldn’t find out. Andy motioned for the girl to follow her towards door number six, and again towards the next few doors before they arrived just below eleven. “Okay, this, and then we’ve got twelve left. Hopefully it… well, you know, lets us out?” Andy’s laugh was anxious, but she pressed on anyway, pulling the door open. As they came out of the other side, just like before, nothing changed. “Are you ready?”

“We’ve got this.” She repeated, barely audible. But still, saying it felt like maybe somehow, that would make it more real. That there would be more of a chance of them actually making it out. Not that Ariadne was entirely sure that she believed in luck in that sort of way, but half an hour ago, she also would’ve said that she didn’t believe in doors that transported you to totally different but the same sort of place, so she figured she couldn’t really speak on the subject.

She looked down at her hand, alarmed to find that it was starting to blend in a little too well with the black-and-white grocery store. Ariadne pressed her fingertips against her temples, doing her best to calm her nerves as quickly and efficiently as possible. Which, of course, was far easier said than actually done, but the thought had to count, right? “We - I’m -” she held up her hand, graying as it was. “What?”

“We do.” Andy wasn’t sure how time worked here, or if it were any different than in the real world. It all still felt like a dream. She wasn’t sure how she was keeping it so together. Maybe it was the fact that the kid next to her was just a kid and needed some guidance. Or, at least, Andy thought she was a kid. She had half a mind to ask how old the blonde was, but was interrupted by her plea.

She looked over and noticed the way that blonde’s hand had begun to meld into the backdrop of the store, fingernails and skin black and white. “Shit. Okay, it’s okay– we just gotta get out, alright?” Andy did her best to give the girl a reassuring smile before she tugged her along to the next door. She wasn’t sure if this was magic or what, but it was fucked up. Once they were below door number twelve, she looked at her and gave her a firm nod. She opened it up, pulling the blonde through with her. When they came out onto the other side, they were transported back to a world of color. Music poured over the speakers and Andy winced at the sudden noise. “We got out.” Thank fucking god. “Your hand– look at your hand.”

“We just gotta get out.” She repeated, both to assure the woman that she’d heard her and to reassure herself. Which Ariadne figured that she might have needed even more than the other woman did. At last from outward appearance, she figured it never hurt to offer kindness to someone else. Especially someone who was literally saving her life.

“We gotta, yeah.” She gratefully let the woman pull her through the door, and she took in a huge gulp of air, half-crumpling down to the floor and leaning back against a shelf. “We got out - I - my hand.” Ariadne looked down. “I - thank you.” She shut her eyes for a moment, trying to re-center herself. “I - I’m Ariadne, by the way. I don’t - I don’t think I ever told you, before.” She stood up, pressing her hands together, as if to make sure that they were actually, really still there. “I’m officially a super not fan of random doors.”

Even though Andy didn’t think that the air in the other grocery store had been any different, it felt like she could actually breathe now. She steadied herself by grabbing onto a nearby shelf, then looked over at the blonde. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she showed that her hand had come back into focus. “Must mean we’re actually back and uh, okay.” She looked down at her own arm, relief flooding through her.

As the blonde gave thanks, Andy shook her head. “Don’t thank me.” It had a double meaning, and maybe she should drive it in a little more, but she got distracted by her name. It was pretty. “Andy.” She smiled fondly at her before pushing away from the shelf. Where the hell was her basket? “Oh, me and you both. Never going to go into a random one again, that’s for sure.” She exhaled sharply and ran her fingers through the end of her braid. “Glad we made it out though, glad you’re in one piece.” Knowing Wicked’s Rest, it could have gotten a lot uglier than it had. “Do you–” She paused, then sighed, “you need a ride home or anything? After you’re done shopping? I can give you one.” If there was anything lasting about the black and white grocery store, then maybe Andy should take Ariadne home.

“Must be.” Ariadne refused to let herself think otherwise. That wasn’t a possibility, it just wasn’t. “It - I’m glad we’re back.” Glad was an exceptional sort of understatement, but it was all that she could manage right now.

“But - I -” she caught her tongue in her mouth, fighting the urge to dispute the comment, to say that she wanted to thank the woman and that she couldn’t stop her from doing so, but refrained. “Sorry. I’m glad you were here to help.” Ariadne nodded. “Belated nice to meet you, Andy. Glad you’re in one piece too.” Which was really not saying nearly as much as she wanted to say, but she supposed it’d have to suffice for now. “Uh - if you don’t mind, sure, that’d be great. I could walk, I like walking, but if you’re offering…” her voice trailed off as she grabbed a box of Cheez-Its off the shelf, before shaking her head and putting them back. Too much salt. A bag of Cheetos instead, in part to see what Chance would say about that. “I - I’ll be ready whenever you are.”

“Mmm.” Andy smiled at Ariadne, and this time it reached her eyes. The blonde was far more polite than anyone else she’d met in Wicked’s Rest, and really, she was pleasantly surprised. She had held her own in the weird black and white world, too, which made Andy curious as to why. It wasn’t her business, and she knew that, but if Ariadne hadn’t freaked the hell out in the weird alternate dimension they’d been thrown into, then what else had she been victim to? Concern ran parallel to paranoia, but she pushed it away, expression neutral aside from the smile.

“No, it’s no big deal, I can drive you.” Andy patted Ariadne’s shoulder hesitantly before passing her by. “I just need to find my basket. Grab whatever else you need and I’ll meet you at the front.” She headed down the aisle before pausing. “And no more doors, except for, you know, the front one.” Andy winked at the blonde before heading off to the next aisle to find her basket before returning to the blonde’s side.

#lost in the supermarket #chatzy #writing #c andy #// i had to do this title ok :/#also i love ci and i love andy sm #thank u for doing this <3

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restorativemeal · 5 months

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Menu Fifteen

Menu Fifteen from Bishop and Carruthers' "The Vegetarian Adventure Cookbook"

Silverbeet Soup Supreme: silverbeet, butter, onion, plain flour, water, vegetable stock, milk, salt, pepper, natural yoghurt.

Mung Bean Muffins: bran flakes, plain flour, baking powder, mung beans, cheddar cheese, plain yoghurt, honey, brown sugar, baking soda.

English Potted Cheese: butter, cheddar cheese, gruyere, mozzarella, prepared mustard, port, poppy seeds.

I was obsessed with grey skies and rain in early December. The first week of December, the fifteenth week, and the fifteenth menu. Fifteen weeks into this and I think that every week could be boiling down to the same thing. I think about time, I think about significance, and I think about experience. In terms of time, and the menus and the weeks going by, they seem to be bleeding into one another. As the time goes on, it gets harder to differentiate one week from another, every week bleeds into the next. In fact I’m writing about Menu Fifteen posthumously really, because for me it’s already Week Sixteen and the day of the sixteenth dinner party. This is a fact that ChatGPT says I should address in case the “temporal displacement” is clouding my judgement. It could be. The other thing about time, significance and experience and writing about it, is that as time goes on there is a whole lot more of it to think about. At the end of September, there was only three weeks worth of time, experience and significance to write about. Now it’s December and the sheer volume of time that this year has accredited makes it difficult to hone in on one thing.

Mung Bean Muffins...

With regard to Week Fifteen I thought about how I was allocating time, not in terms of leisure and work, but rather how much time I had been putting into Bishop and Carruthers’ menus. I haven’t spent as much time on anything in the last fifteen weeks like I have “The Vegetarian Adventure Cookbook”. I had time to think about that fact because Menu Fifteen was simple, there were very little ingredients and only two vegetables. I did get to go to the bulk store to purchase bran flakes (cashier in question not there). On Tuesday night it poured with rain and I ate dinner out with two friends. I was reminded amongst the comfort of the cold weather of all the reasons I loved where I lived. The long stretch of road that connects everything important to me at this time. I was thinking very little about the menu that lay ahead. There was a warm soup this week, perhaps there was cosmic reasoning to the cold December weather.

There was something uninspiring about Menu Fifteen, though there was heart in the first warm soup. Silverbeet Soup Supreme, Mung Bean Muffins and English Potted Cheese. Any time that I was going to spend cooking the menu felt like time wasted. It was one of those weeks where I now had too much time after finishing work at 4 30PM, I had only three dishes and three guests. The same three guests as the very first week, possibly it was the first time the four of us would eat together since that first week. Despite any ill feelings, I started the Mung Bean Muffins when I returned home on Wednesday. At no point did they seem delectable. I moved on to the English Potted Cheese, beating 125 grams of butter until smooth with an electric beater, then beating three kinds of grated cheese into it. Into that I beat mustard, port and poppy seeds. While I squashed this mixture into a small bowl to be covered and refrigerated I sat at the dining room table, listening to Morrissey from my MacBook Air. It was only about 6 PM, there were two and a half hours till the time that I had said dinner would be ready.

Potted cheese and beverages of a fifteenth week.

For the first time in all fifteen weeks, dinner was ready before my singular non-flatmate guest arrived. The Silverbeet Soup Supreme, had been cooked, cooled, blended, and reheated, and yet my guest hadn’t arrived. When she did, I poured the soup into four bowls, it looked like a warm milkshake. Perhaps I had over-whirred it in the blender causing it to be over-aerated. When I dropped the spoonful of natural yoghurt on top of the soup to garnish it sank immediately to the bottom of the bowl but I served anyway. It was the saddest table spread of all fifteen menus I had seen so far. I looked up at the table guests and thought about us in that last week of August, how cheery we had been that evening as we ate an inedible meal on one of the last Winter nights of the year. Now it was Summer and I sat in the same seat at the same table only thinking about how much time I’ve wasted since then. The Silverbeet Soup Supreme actually received some compliments, even though the natural yoghurt seemed to have curdled within the soup to form a mozzarella-like taste and consistency.

Cooked, blended, cooled and reheated silverbeet milkshake.

Menu Fifteen felt like a colossal waste of time. My flatmate cleaned all the dishes and I sulked in my room. I’d learnt nothing, I’d felt nothing. Menu Fifteen was now just another accumulation of time and experience that I now needed to wade through to find significance. I went out on Thursday night to an Engineering Christmas party. Someone told me days later that you should give someone three days to reach out. Sunday came and went with no call, though I hadn’t actually given my number to anyone anyway.

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brattyfics · 3 years

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— until we meet again, preciosa

PAIRING || bishop losa x black!ofc, miguel galindo x black!ofc (mentioned)

SUMMARY || She’s not his, and she won’t ever be, so he leaves her with words whispered like a promise. “Until we meet again, preciosa.”

TAGS || angst, unresolved feelings, not a hea, mentions of toxic relationships, sex (referenced).

WORD COUNT || 1.6k

Shadowy clouds hang overhead, blocking out the warming glow of the Sun. Raindrops pelt the roof above, drumming a beat of their own before pooling down to the concrete paved streets below. Isis watches stray droplets gather on the tall windows for several moments before stepping out onto the covered balcony. It felt colder than usual inside the three-story, Spanish-style shophouse, but outside it’s the opposite-- balmy, earthy. The air is heavy with humidity, so she has to take deep breaths, but she doesn’t enjoy it any less. Invigoration comes with the rain, brings hope for new beginnings, renews faith for the hopeless.

Down below, people dart between vendors to continue their shopping as the rain lightens. Colorful rays spring from puddles up towards the sky. A pair of young siblings splash each other while their mother sells delicious smelling tamales wrapped in banana leaves. Another young woman peddles gold necklaces, praying candles, and other little knick-knacks to the tourists of Sonora. Everybody has to make a living, including Isis.

She spends her days stroking the strings of a guitar or the keys of her piano, helping patrons of the music shop in between. The ground floor of the shophouse boasts string instruments and an extensive collection of vinyl records. After hours, she makes money hosting private piano lessons. She performs at the Discoteca down the street on weekends, fueling her passion for music almost 24/7 except when Preciosa is closed for ‘maintenance’.

Overstock merchandise and whatever else the Mayans’ Motorcycle Clubs needs to store clutters the second floor. Don’t ask, don’t tell is her motto, so whenever they come to the shop, she simply flips the sign to closed. There’s no point in fighting it. Besides, El Presidente always makes it a bearable, if not pleasant, experience. Bishop had called ahead to warn her that he was bringing Hank, Angel, and the new prospect, Angel’s baby brother, along. She could hear them bumping around, a noisy reminder that her shop only thrived because of the illegal deals happening in the back.

“Why don’t you put all that time and energy into something that’ll get you somewhere?” Being a musician wasn’t an acceptable career in her mother’s eyes, so the woman took every chance she could to crush her daughter’s dreams. “Nobody wants to hear all that noise!” Staring out into the street, she can’t help but wonder where she would’ve ended up if her mother had been supportive. Maybe she could have been a star rising to the top of Billboard charts or someone who worked behind the scenes, writing songs, singing demos. She had the skill set. Yes, her path would have been much different.

Isis had stood front and center, crooning out an old school blues song at a hole-in-the-wall spot when Miguel Galindo first laid eyes on her. It was a chance meeting, one that felt like fate at the time because dive bars weren’t his scene. The owner was a business associate who decided to try his hand at being a restaurateur; Miguel had been kind enough to come out and support. When he caught sight of her shapely frame in a slinky, satin number, he insisted on being introduced.

Miguel stood out in a crowd, wearing a tailored button-down, dark dress pants, and an expensive pair of Italian leather shoes. His salt and pepper beard groomed to perfection, hair gelled so that no strand was out of place. The moment she’d looked into his eyes, she was caught in his web. His masculine scent drew her in like honey to a bee. His charisma held her attention. Miguel sweet-talked her all night, insisting Isis sit next to him, eat h’orderves, and drink overpriced champagne. She obliged. Who could say no to that face? He used their close proximity to reel her in like a fish on a hook, leaning down to whisper in her ear. You’re beautiful. He told her. You have such a smooth, seductive tone. You should be performing for bigger crowds. Have you ever thought about branching out? He told her everything her mother never had, so she was a lamb to the slaughter.

For months, Miguel had treated her like his very own LifeSize doll to play with. He took her on shopping sprees, kept her draped in silk and lace. Isis didn’t think of herself as materialistic, but she couldn’t deny being showered in gifts felt splendid. He was always so tender, handling her delicately as his newest prized possession. As time went on, she became more like an ornament. Something for him to marvel at when he felt like it and then hide away the rest of the time. But nothing was worse than him leaving her to harden after he was finished molding her like clay. She asked for more—time, commitment, only for him to do the opposite.

Thus, Preciosa was born. A way for him to placate her and later make it easier for the M.C. to make him money.

“Just a few more minutes, and we’ll be out your way.” Isis jumped at the sound, turning away from the street to see Bishop. She hadn’t heard him come outside; didn’t expect him to venture up into her personal space.

Isis’ smile rarely reached her eyes, Bishop noticed. He stepped forward, holding a velvet box that felt heavier than it was. Her fingertips tickled him as he passed it over. Diamonds surrounded in white gold gleamed as the clouds cleared away for the Sun. Even Bishop could admit the set was gorgeous, but she didn’t look impressed. He hated being Galindo’s delivery boy, watching the way her face fell when the gifts she received became increasingly impersonal with each week. Not long ago, he’d also been tasked with passing along handwritten love notes or antique music sheets that she caressed like she would a lover’s skin.

“Thank you.”

She couldn’t hide her disappointment from him. Not for lack of trying-- Miguel always reminded her, appearances were everything. Smile. Don’t make me look bad. But Bishop watched her closely, knew her tells. Despite every nerve in his brain urging him to walk away, he steps forward to stand next to her. His calloused hands rest on the balcony’s edge next to her delicate pair, brown in varying tones of sepia and mahogany contrasting against the white paint.

Bishop feels the heat of her eyes on his frame, but he doesn’t let himself respond. Sharing this moment, a quick breath of fresh air will have to be enough. But she’s all around him, smelling of florals and sweet spices. He can’t think. He fumbles with his pockets in search of a cigarette. “You mind?” She shakes her head but is otherwise silent. Still watching him as he smokes; the way he takes long, steady pulls, cradling the stick between his full lips and then between his strong, veined fingers. She would bet her last dollar that he was an expert at other things involving his fingers and mouth.

When his hand drops again, she links her pinky with his, hesitant but exploratory.

Bishop looks at her, really looks at her like he sees her. It’s nice to be seen, especially when you’re the princess locked up far, far away from everyone you’ve ever known. She’s a black girl from Texas living in Sonora for goodness’ sake. This is no life, and she knows it. Several moments pass where neither can look away, both weighing their desires with the potential consequences.

With a deep breath in, she musters up the courage to ask Bishop what she’s been wanting to for months.

“Stay?”

Her heart feels like it might just explode while she waits for a response.

Bishop drops his head to his chest, cursing under his breath. “Fuck.” If Miguel ever found out… But he already knew what his answer would be. He’d been waiting for the invitation. The heated looks they exchanged, the way her fingers lingered on his when he passed her something. That damned pout she wore when Miguel forgot to send a flower arrangement-- she had no idea Bishop had been the one buying the flowers for some time now. No matter what mood she was in, fresh flowers always brightened her day. He loved watching that lonely look transform into something more lively, curious as she marveled over his choice for the week. He went for variety, slowly learning what she loved and what she just liked; her favorite color, favorite scent.

The subtle tension between them, he wasn’t even certain she noticed. The cash and the bling could’ve blinded her to all other men. But it didn’t.

When the Sun had gone down several hours later, and the guys were gone, Bishop redressed. Belt buckling with a clink, leather sliding over his shoulders easily. He let himself take one last look at her wrapped up in a poofy comforter set. The mustard-yellow velvet complimented her skin in the best way, bringing out a gold undertone. Her eyes seem to have brightened as well. He couldn’t resist leaning over to stroke her sweaty skin. Dark coils stuck to her beautiful face, frizzy in some parts from when she rode him, sweat escaping from her pores, flat in the others from when he laid her on her back and hooked her legs over her shoulders.

He wants to stay, to prop himself up against the intricately carved wood headboard and hold her in his lap while they whisper sweet nothing to each other, but he can’t.

She’s not his, and she won’t ever be, so he leaves her with words whispered like a promise. “Until we meet again, preciosa.”

NOTES || This fic and the collage above was inspired by @isisafrofairy’s gorgeous moodboard! Also, the wonderful “Until we meet again, preciosa” line is hers as well. This is my thank you for the moodboard you made for me. I really leaned on the pictures you used for inspiration and I think I managed to capture/include each element. It was so hard not to ruin the surprise, but I was able to shut tf up for once 😂 I’m really proud of how this turned out, and hopefully you enjoy it just as much! Also, I realize the moodboard had nothing to do with Miguel but he lives in my head rent-free apparently 🥴

GENERAL TAGLIST || @woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @everyhowlmarksthedead @yourwonkywriter @trulysuccubus @sparklemichele @luckyharley1903 @thesandbeneathmytoes @amorestevens

MAYANS M.C. TAGLIST || @cant-decide-at-this-moment

#mayans mc #bishop losa x oc #miguel galindo x oc #bishop losa x ofc #bishop losa x black!ofc

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thewidowsghost · 3 years

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Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 1

So, I started this on my Wattpad, and if figured I'd just put it on here! Just tell me if you want me to add you to the taglist!

Percy's POV

My name is Percy Jackson.

I am twelve years old. I'm a boarding student at Yancy Academy, a private school for troubled kids in upstate New York, and my sister, (Y/n), taking online schooling at home.

Am I a troubled kid?

Yeah. You could say that.

I could start at any point in my short miserable life to prove it, but things really started going bad last May, when our sixth-grade class took a field trip to Manhattan—twenty-eight mental-case kids and two teachers on a yellow school bus, heading to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at ancient Greek and Roman stuff.

I know—it sounds like torture. Most Yancy field trips were.

But Mr. Brunner, our Latin teacher, was leading this trip, so I had hopes.

Mr. Brunner was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket, which always smelled like coffee. You wouldn't think he'd be cool, but he told stories and jokes and let us play games in class. He also had this awesome collection of Roman armor and weapons, so he was the only teacher whose class didn't put me to sleep.

I hoped the trip would be okay. At least, I hoped that for once I wouldn't get in trouble.

See, bad things happen to me on field trips. Like at my fifth-grade school, when we went to the Saratoga battlefield, I had this accident with a Revolutionary War cannon. I wasn't aiming for the school bus, but of course, I got expelled anyway. And before that, at my fourth-grade school, when we took a behind-the-scenes tour of the Marine World shark pool, I sort of hit the wrong lever on the catwalk and our class took an unplanned swim. And the time before that...Well, you get the idea.

On this trip, I was determined to be good.

All the way into the city, I put up with Nancy Bobofit, the freckly, redheaded kleptomaniac girl, hitting my best friend Grover in the back of the head with chunks of peanut butter-and-ketchup sandwich.

Grover was an easy target. He was scrawny. He cried when he got frustrated. He must've been held back several grades because he was the only sixth grader with acne and the start of a wispy beard on his chin. On top of all that, he was crippled. He had a note excusing him from PE for the rest of his life because he had some kind of muscular disease in his legs. He walked funny, like every step hurt him, but don't let that fool you. You should've seen him run when it was enchilada day in the cafeteria.

Anyway, Nancy Bobofit was throwing wads of sandwiches that stuck in his curly brown hair, and she knew I couldn't do anything back to her because I was already on probation. The headmaster had threatened me with death by in-school suspension if anything bad, embarrassing, or even mildly entertaining happened on this trip.

"I'm going to kill her," I mumble.

Grover tries to calm me down. "I'm okay. I like peanut butter -" He dodges another piece of Nancy's lunch.

"That's it." I start to get up, but Grover pulls me back to my seat.

"You're already on probation," he reminds me. "You know who'll get blamed if anything happens."

Mr. Brunner leads the museum tour.

He rides up front in his wheelchair, guiding us through the big echoey galleries, past marble statues and glass cases full of really old black-and-orange pottery.

It blows my mind that this stuff had survived for two thousand, three thousand years.

He gathers us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top, and starts telling us how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides. I was trying to listen to what he had to say, because it was kind of interesting, but everybody around me was talking, and every time I told them to shut up, the other teacher chaperone, Mrs. Dodds, would give me the evil eye.

Mrs. Dodds was this little math teacher from Georgia who always wore a black leather jacket, even though she was fifty years old. She looked mean enough to ride a Harley right into your locker. She had come to Yancy halfway through the year when our last math teacher had a nervous breakdown.

From her first day, Mrs. Dodds loved Nancy Bobofit and figured I was devil spawn. She would point her crooked finger at me and say, "Now, honey," real sweet, and I knew I was going to get after-school detention for a month.

One time, after she'd made me erase answers out of old math workbooks until midnight, I told Grover I didn't think Mrs. Dodds was human. He looked at me, real serious, and said, "You're absolutely right."

Mr. Brunner keeps talking about Greek funeral art.

Finally, Nancy Bobofit snickers something about the naked guy on the stele, and I turn around and say, "Will you shut up?"

It comes out louder than I meant it to.

The whole group laughs. Mr. Brunner stops his story. "Mr. Jackson," he says, "did you have a comment?"

My face is totally red, I think. I answer, "No, sir."

Mr. Brunner points to one of the pictures on the stele. "Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?"

I look at the carving, and feel a flush of relief, because I actually recognize it. "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?"

"Yes," Mr. Brunner says, obviously not satisfied. "And he did this because..."

"Well..." I rack my brain to remember. (Y/n) would have known the answer. She was nuts for this kind of stuff. "Kronos was the king god, and —"

"God?" Mr. Brunner asks.

"Titan," I correct myself. "And...he didn't trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them, right? But his wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters—"

"Eeew!" says one of the girls behind me.

"—and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans," I continue, "and the gods won."

Some snickers from the group.

Behind me, Nancy Bobofit mumbles to a friend, "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'"

"And why, Mr. Jackson," Brunner says, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"

"Busted," Grover mutters.

"Shut up," Nancy hisses, her face even brighter red than her hair.

At least Nancy got packed, too. Mr. Brunner was the only one who ever caught her saying anything wrong. He had radar ears.

I think about his question, and shrug. "I don't know, sir."

"I see." Mr. Brunner looks disappointed. "Well, half credit, Mr. Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?"

The class drifts off, the girls holding their stomachs, the guys pushing each other around and acting like doofuses.

Grover and I were about to follow when Mr. Brunner said, "Mr. Jackson."

I knew that was coming.

I tell Grover to keep going; then I turn toward Mr. Brunner. "Sir?" Mr. Brunner had this look that wouldn't let you go—intense brown eyes that could've been a thousand years old and had seen everything. "You must learn the answer to my question," Mr. Brunner tells me.

"About the Titans?"

'"About real life. And how your studies apply to it."

"Oh."

"What you learn from me," he says, "is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson."

I mean, sure, it was kind of cool on tournament days, when he dressed up in a suit of Roman armor and shouted: "What ho!" and challenged us, swordpoint against chalk, to run to the board and name every Greek and Roman person who had ever lived, and their mother, and what god they worshipped. But Mr. Brunner expected me to be as good as everybody else, despite the fact that I have dyslexia and attention deficit disorder and I had never made above a C– in my life. No—he didn't expect me to be as good; he expected me to be better. And I just couldn't learn all those names and facts, much less spell them correctly.

I mumble something about trying harder, while Mr. Brunner takes one long sad look at the stele, like he'd been at this girl's funeral.

He tells me to go outside and eat my lunch.

The class gathers on the front steps of the museum, where we can watch the foot traffic along Fifth Avenue.

Overhead, a huge storm is brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen over the city. I figure maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We'd had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in.

Nobody else seems to notice, though. Some of the guys are pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. Nancy Bobofit is trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, and, of course, Mrs. Dodds isn't seeing a thing.

Grover and I sit on the edge of the fountain, away from the others. We thought that maybe if we did that, everybody wouldn't know we were from that school—the school for loser freaks who couldn't make it elsewhere.

"Detention?" Grover asked.

"Nah," I said. "Not from Brunner. I just wish he'd lay off me sometimes. I mean—I'm not a genius, not like (Y/n). She seems to know everything."

Grover doesn't say anything for a while. Then, when I think he is going to give me some deep philosophical comment to make me feel better, he asks, "Can I have your apple?"

I don't have much of an appetite, so I let him take it.

I watch the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue, and think about my mom's apartment, only a little ways uptown from where we sit. I hadn't seen her or my sister since Christmas. I want so bad to jump in a taxi and head home. Mom and (Y/n) would hug me and be glad to see me, but Mom would be disappointed, too. She'd send me right back to Yancy, remind me that I had to try harder, even if this was my sixth school in six years and I was probably going to be kicked out again. I couldn't be able to stand that sad look she'd give me.

Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. He ate celery while he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized café table.

I am about to unwrap my sandwich when Nancy Bobofit appears in front of me with her ugly friends—I guess she'd gotten tired of stealing from the tourists—and dumps her half-eaten lunch in Grover's lap.

"Oops." She grins at me with her crooked teeth. Her freckles are orange, as if somebody had spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos.

I try to stay cool. The school counselor had told me a million times, "Count to ten, get control of your temper." But I am so mad my mind went blank. A wave roars in my ears.

I don't remember touching her, but the next thing I knew, Nancy is sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, "Percy pushed me!"

Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us.

Some of the kids were whispering: "Did you see—"

"—the water—"

"—like it grabbed her—"

I don't know what they were talking about. All I know is that I was in trouble again.

As soon as Mrs. Dodds is sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, etc., etc., Mrs. Dodds turns on me. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes as if I'd done something she'd been waiting for all semester. "Now, honey—"

"I know," I grumble. "A month erasing workbooks." That wasn't the right thing to say.

"Come with me," Mrs. Dodds says.

"Wait!" Grover yelps. "It was me. I pushed her."

I stare at him, stunned. I can't believe he was trying to cover for me. Mrs. Dodds scared Grover to death.

She glares at him so hard his whiskery chin trembled.

"I don't think so, Mr. Underwood," she says.

"But—"

"You—will—stay—here."

Grover looks at me desperately.

"It's okay, man," I tell him. "Thanks for trying."

"Honey," Mrs. Dodds barks at me. "Now."

Nancy Bobofit smirks. I give her my deluxe I'll-kill-you-later stare. Then I turn to face Mrs. Dodds, but she isn't there. She is standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently at me to come on.

How'd she get there so fast?

I have moments like that a lot, when my brain falls asleep or something, and the next thing I know I've missed something, as if a puzzle piece fell out of the universe and left me staring at the blank place behind it. The school counselor told me this was part of the ADHD, my brain misinterpreting things.

I wasn't so sure. I go after Mrs. Dodds.

Halfway up the steps, I glance back at Grover. He is looking pale, cutting his eyes between me and Mr. Brunner, like he wanted Mr. Brunner to notice what was going on, but Mr. Brunner is absorbed in his novel.

I look back up. Mrs. Dodds had disappeared again. She is now inside the building, at the end of the entrance hall.

Okay, I think. She's going to make me buy a new shirt for Nancy at the gift shop.

But apparently, that wasn't the plan.

I follow her deeper into the museum. When I finally catch up to her, we are back in the Greek and Roman section.

Except for us, the gallery is empty.

Mrs. Dodds stands with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods. She is making this weird noise in her throat, like growling.

Even without the noise, I would've been nervous. It's weird being alone with a teacher, especially Mrs. Dodds. Something about the way she looked at the frieze as if she wanted to pulverize it...

"You've been giving us problems, honey," she says.

I do the safe thing. I reply, "Yes, ma'am."

She tugs on the cuffs of her leather jacket. "Did you really think you would get away with it?"

The look in her eyes is beyond mad. It was evil.

She's a teacher, I thought nervously. It's not like she's going to hurt me. I say, "I'll—I'll try harder, ma'am."

Thunder shakes the building.

"We are not fools, Percy Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said. "It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain."

I didn't know what she's talking about.

All I can think of was that the teachers must've found the illegal stash of candy I'd been selling out of my dorm room. Or maybe they'd realized I got my essay on Tom Sawyer from the Internet without ever reading the book and now they were going to take away my grade. Or worse, they were going to make me read the book.

"Well?" she demands.

"Ma'am, I don't..."

"Your time is up," she hisses.

Then the weirdest thing happens. Her eyes begin to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretch, turning into talons. Her jacket melts into large, leathery wings. She isn't human. She is a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice me to ribbons.

Then things got even stranger.

Mr. Brunner, who'd been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheels his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.

"What ho, Percy!" he shouts and tosses the pen through the air.

Mrs. Dodds lunges at me.

With a yelp, I dodge and feel talons slash the air next to my ear. I snatch the ballpoint pen out of the air, but when it hits my hand, it isn;t a pen anymore. It is a sword—Mr. Brunner's bronze sword, which he always uses on tournament day.

Mrs. Dodds spins towards me with a murderous look in her eyes.

My knees are jelly. My hands are shaking so bad I almost drop the sword.

She snarl, "Die, honey!" And she flies straight at me.

Absolute terror runs through my body. I did the only thing that came naturally: I swing the sword.

The metal blade hits her shoulder and passes clean through her body as if she was made of water. Hisss!

Mrs. Dodds was a sandcastle in a power fan. She explodes into yellow powder, vaporizing on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes are still watching me.

I'm alone.

There is a ballpoint pen in my hand.

Mr. Brunner isn't there. Nobody is there but me.

My hands are still trembling. My lunch must've been contaminated with magic mushrooms or something.

Had I imagined the whole thing?

I walk back outside.

It had started to rain.

Grover is sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit is still standing there, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her ugly friends. When she sees me, she says, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt."

I answer, "Who?"

"Our teacher. Duh!"

I blink. We don't have a teacher named Mrs. Kerr. I ask Nancy what she is talking about.

She just rolls her eyes and turns away.

I ask Grover where Mrs. Dodds was.

"Who?" he asks, but he pauses first and he wouldn't look at me, so I figure he was messing with me.

"Not funny, man," I tell him. "This is serious."

Thunder booms overhead.

I see Mr. Brunner sitting under his red umbrella, reading his book as if he'd never moved.

I go over to him.

He looks up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson."

I had Mr. Brunner his pen. I hadn't even realized I was still holding it.

"Sir," I ask, "where's Mrs. Dodds?"

He stares blankly at me, "Who?"

"The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher."

He frowns and sits forward, looking mildly concerned. "Percy, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?"

Word Count: 3159 words

So yeah, this is the first chapter of this book.

Not much (Y/n) yet, but we'll get there.

Love y'all! Kaitlynn ❤️😍

#percy jackson x sister reader #sally jackson x daugther reader #demigod reader #fem reader #reader insert #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the lightning thief reader insert #percy jackson and the battle of the labyrinth #percy jackson and the titans curse #percy jackson and the lightning thief #percy jackson and the greek gods #percy jackson and the sea of monsters #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians reader insert

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real-work-of-art · 4 years

Text

Can We Fall?

A little fall themed piece.

A/N: Thank you x a million to @oh-honey-styles, @for-fucks-sake-h, @andwhenshesays, and @haute-romance-quotidienne for always reading and encouraging me. 💕💕

Word count: 1.9k

Many people consider fall a time that represents sadness. As the leaves fall off the trees or as the days get colder, it’s only a matter of time till winter storms in with her frosty bite. But for you, fall always feels like electricity hanging in the air. Like something new could be waiting at the end of every gust of wind.

You were walking out of your favorite coffee shop on this cool Saturday morning, heading to the small pumpkin patch just around the corner. Dressed in your favorite blue jeans, brown booties, and a thick knit mustard cardigan, you held on tight to your cup of this month's specialty drink.

The pumpkin patch was less of an actual patch and more like a little stand surrounded by pumpkins that also sold some delicious fall desserts.

This was your tradition— every year you picked out a few small pumpkins and gourds to decorate your apartment with.

Luckily it was still early enough in the morning that only a few other people were out picking up pumpkins. As you approach the stand, you notice a young couple pushing a stroller and a man dressed in a black hoodie and running shorts picking through the box of gourds. Waving to the cashier, you walk around the little stand to search for the perfect sized pumpkins to decorate your window sills with.

Looking down at the pumpkins scattered on the ground, you notice two giant pumpkins next to a pair of feet. As your eyes travel up you realize it’s the man in the black hoodie. Letting out a little snicker, you wonder if he carried both of those over at the same time. The image, making you let out another little giggle.

~~~~~

Hearing what he thinks is a laugh, Harry looks over his shoulder to see a woman wrapped in a yellow cardigan, smiling down at his feet. He follows her gaze to the pumpkins next to him. With furrowed brows and a small smirk, he looks back up, but no one is there. Confused, he turns his head to the other side trying to find where she went. He only sees the couple talking to the cashier as they pay for their pumpkins. He questions if he imagined her. Just as he is about to forget about the strange moment, he hears a quiet “oh shit” come from the back of the pumpkin stand.

He sets the gourds he is holding back into the bucket, taking a few steps towards the back. Popping his head around the corner he sees the woman. Her back is to him but she’s bent down picking up an empty coffee cup and wiping away at a pumpkin covered in coffee.

“Are you okay?” Harry takes another step towards the girl but she jumps at the sound of his voice, falling back onto her butt.

Harry tries to take another step but his foot catches on a pumpkin and he trips. Falling on his hands next to her, he lets out a grunt before turning his head over his shoulder to look at the woman next to him.

~~~~~

You’re staring back at him with wide eyes, trying to hold back a laugh. “That pumpkin is a menace,” you say with your thumb pointed over your shoulder.

Shifting over to his bum, he leans back on his hands with his legs stretched out in front of him. “He takes the trick in ‘trick or treat’ very seriously,” he says with a smirk that makes a dimple dig deep into his cheek.

You laugh at his joke, while taking in the mess around you.

“I’m Harry by the way,” he says as he moves to stand, sticking his hand out to help you up.

Sharing your name, you grab his hand and let him pull you up, not letting the strength of his grip and his pull go unnoticed.

Dusting off your jeans, you’re at least thankful none of the coffee spilled on your clothes. As you check the different places of your cardigan for possible coffee stains, Harry picks up your now empty cup and walks to the nearby trash can, careful not to trip on any more pumpkins.

“Sorry about your coffee,” he says as he makes his way back to you. “They sell a really good pumpkin coffee cake here, though.”

“Oh! I’ve never tried it. I always get the apple pie.”

“Me too! It’s my favorite.” Harry was smiling at you but after a few seconds, when neither of you spoke again, you found yourselves awkwardly looking around at the pumpkins scattered on the ground.

“Um. I was actually just about to get one. Would you want to join me? Maybe we can split that coffee cake too.” His voice was smooth but you could see the hopeful glimmer in his eyes and the way he was fidgeting with his fingers.

You really wanted to turn him down. He was a stranger, after all, and the whole situation felt a little awkward, but you were also planning to order a dessert. So, it would feel silly if you both just sat at opposite tables.

Your eyes scan around the little pumpkin stand, realizing you are the only two customers left. “Um, sure,” you finally say. Looking back up at his face, a flash of surprise runs across his features before a smile spreads across his lips and his teeth poke into his bottom lip. You look away, distracting yourself from letting your mind wander with thoughts of how pink and soft his lips look.

Harry steps around you, walking back into the stand and straight to the cashier. You follow behind him unsure how this whole thing is supposed to play out.

As Harry reaches the counter he quickly begins to order. “Two apple pie slices, a pumpkin coffee cake, and two hot apple ciders, please.” You’ve barely reached the counter as Harry is pulling out his wallet and handing over his credit card.

“I can pay for mine,” you try to interject while reaching for your own wallet.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says with a smile, quickly making eye contact with you before turning back to the cashier. “I can carry this over. Do you want to grab a table?”

Honestly, you’re confused. Confused why this stranger is being so nice to you. It’s not like he knocked the coffee out of your hand or pushed you to fall on top of those pumpkins. There’s no reason for him to be buying you treats and offering to eat them together.

Regardless, you nod shyly and walk towards the two little tables set up against the stand. You slide into the seat with your back towards the counter. If you got up right now and ran away he wouldn’t know which direction you ran in. Checking over your shoulder to see if Harry is looking at you, you notice him engaging in a full on conversation with the cashier as they put your order together.

Maybe this guy is just friendly with everyone? You turn back around, quickly getting lost in the possible reasons for how you got here, who this man is, and why he’s so kind.

Lost in thought, you barely register Harry approaching the table, carrying a tray filled with all of the treats he ordered.

“Alright, here we go! One apple pie for you,” he places the desserts on the table in front of you, and quickly runs back to the counter to return the tray. When he sits down at the table he’s looking at you with the biggest smile spread across his face. You can’t help but let the corner of your mouth pull up into a smirk in response to his happiness. There really is just something so magnetic about him.

Harry and you talk and share stories while you finish your food. He asks you tons of questions about yourself, listening to your answers with an endearing intensity. He fights you for the last bite of the coffee cake, ultimately letting you win. His smile leaves you breathless every time. He tells you about his career, apprehensive at first but relieved at your calm reaction.

You knew of Harry Styles, of course. Having been a fan of One Direction back when they were together. The band separated and your life moved on as well. You tried to follow along with their careers. Listening to the music they released whenever you got the chance, but you hadn’t seen a picture of Harry in years.

He really was just a normal guy. Strikingly beautiful, sure, but also kind and genuine. He makes you laugh and as you both gather up the pumpkins you had picked, he offers to walk you to your car that was parked down the street by the coffee shop.

He insists on carrying your things for you, and as you reach your car, after placing everything in your trunk, you find yourselves standing awkwardly in front of each other. You want to see Harry again, but don’t know how to make that happen or if he is even interested.

Clearing your throat you finally speak up. “Thanks for walking me to my car, and for dessert. It was really nice meeting you,” you say as you dig the toe of your boot into the sidewalk.

“I had a great time too.” He looks like he wants to say more but quickly averts his eyes back to the ground shuffling his feet backwards. A gust of wind whips between you two. Stuffing his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, he slowly brings his eyes back up to yours, holding your gaze. With eye contact so intense, your body feels like it’s being pulled towards his.

“I uh thought, um maybe…” he stumbles over his words before taking a deep breath, “Maybe we could do dinner and dessert next time?” You can’t resist the wide smile spreading across your face, so completely endeared by him.

“Yeah, I would really like that. Maybe I could give you my number,” you offer. Harry quickly pulls his phone from the front pocket of his sweater. Unlocking it and handing it over for you to save your number in it, he can’t seem to wipe the smile off his face. You wonder if he’s having as much trouble as you are controlling the pounding of your heart against your chest.

Returning his phone back to him, you watch as he takes a moment to read over your contact in his phone. “I’ll text you,” he says accompanied by another one of his gorgeous smiles.

“I hope so,” you quip back as you step towards your car. Harry steps back as well, moving to turn and walk back up the street. He gives you one last look over his shoulder as you slide into the driver's seat. Watching him walk away for a couple more seconds, you turn on your car, place your phone in the cup holder and buckle your seatbelt. Just as you reach for the gear shift, you hear your phone vibrate. Seeing a message notification, you unlock your phone to view the message.

“Are you free tonight? - H”

Shaking your head, you let out a chuckle and quickly type out your response.

“Completely.”

Thank you so much for reading!

Falling For You (part 2)

Other works

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The Night Before

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#harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

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nctzendreamz · 3 years

Text

off the table — lee taeyong

genre: angst w/ hints of fluff.

warnings: language, mentions of drug abuse, and mental illness.

featuring: nct members + chan and felix from stray kids.

authors note: taeyong was perfect for this in my head. also, thank you ariana grande.

is love completely off the table?

will I ever love the same way again? will I ever love somebody like the way I did you?

it had been almost a year. almost a year since he had heard your laugh. you know, the one only he was capable of getting out of you. it was gentle, yet so vibrant that it could color even the most plain and unpleasant rooms. he had seen you do it a million times, but his favorite work of art of yours was the one you did on his heart.

obviously, he couldn’t see what the inside of him looked like. but he could feel it. before he met you, he was certain everything was pitch black. to be specific, the darkest shade of the night sky one could possible fathom. so much pain resided in him. some he brought to himself, some he did nothing to earn. regardless, it was there, and as anybody with demons did, he found coping methods.

that’s how he met you, actually. holed up a strip club he had no business being in. one, because there was no one here he truly wanted. he would never admit it outloud, but the thought of love warmed him. not much, but it did. more than silly one night stands that have soul ties no one wanted to keep.

you were clearly out of place in the building filled with the scent of marijuana and flashing lights, although it did perfectly consume your complexion in the most beautiful way. he observed you for what felt like hours, just admiring you. he had no idea he would want to do this for the rest of his life.

it didn’t take much liquid courage for him to approach you. he could sense your fear when his slender fingers touched your exposed shoulder. for some reason though, the minute your eyes locked it was as if you were looking at someone you had known for a million lifetimes. or maybe that was just Taeyong’s point of view. maybe, everything was all an illusion. meeting you. falling in love with you. you falling in love with him.

“it’s been awhile.” a voice snaps Taeyong out of his deep thinking. the minute his concentration breaks does his surroundings suddenly blast into the center of his cortex. the volume increases. he is in the real world again. he isn’t high, yet.

“yeah.” is all he can spit out. all of the different coversations he could hear take place all of a sudden was making him extremely frustrated and unable to form coherent thoughts. or maybe he wanted it that way so he wouldn’t have to think about you.

you loved coming here. he hated coming here. but he loved you, and your favorite thing to say to him was, “when you love someone, you do things you hate. just like me sitting and watching you smoke for hours without stopping.”

he never realized how much you hated his distractions.

the here, was a restaurant that resembled a sports bar back where you are from. the food was less Korean and more greasy chicken tenders. and you really admired their honey mustard. it was kind of ridiculous how much you loved this place. it was always crowded. the smell was odd - a mixture of people who can’t seem to do anything but drink beer and yell, and foreigners who hated living in Korea. this was the only taste of home they got, so they took advantage of it.

did you feel that way too?

he doesn’t know. and he doesn’t want to think about it. some soccer game was on. people were cheering. he was just waiting on his to-go order.

“how have you been?” the familiar woman asks behind the counter. she was definitely in her mid-50’s. he assumed. she always would be here when Taeyong was dragged along, and she was always nice. who wouldn’t be with all the money you gave to this place.

“i’ve been fine.”

taeyong feels a little cheery conversating with another human. if it wasn’t his dealer, there wasn’t anything to say if he was being quite honest. his relationship with his family died out a long time ago. the only person that he could talk to was himself. the guys who were constantly down in the basement at his dealer were cool, but they never really got him. they thought he was weird, violent. only you cared enough to see how sweet he was. to paint him.

“good to hear. you tell your lover that i miss them!”

his heart, still colored from the mention of you, breaks. it had broken many times from your presence on this earth being acknowledged. everytime his chest would explode into his stomach.

he couldn’t say anything.

he simply walks out the place, not caring about manners. he just wants to go home. he doesn’t even like these fucking chicken tenders, but he’s going to go home and eat them. in your honor.

“excuse me.” a voice exclaims as he finally makes it outside.

once again, words don’t leave his mouth. the woman was probably lost. he truthfully didn’t care. he didn’t care about anything anymore.

“sorry,” she begins. her hair is almost a white color. it’s clearly dyed, but she might have been naturally a darker shade of blonde since the coloring seemed too perfect. “i just...i’ve been watching you - wait, that sounds incredible creepy—“

no one could compare to you, but she reminded him of you. you always did this when you were nervous, or had a severe lack of sleep. you would say things you considered to be silly. fumble with your words. and you would always ruin it more by acknowledging it.

but he was never irritated. he thought it was the cutest thing in the entire world. you were the cutest thing in the entire world.

even now, he’s okay. maybe because he was reminded of you, he can appreciate the art.

“you’re really cute.” she finally spits out.

he couldn’t respond, for the third time today.

why was this so hard? it has almost been a fucking year. a year without you. a year without touching you.

yet, no one could ever compare. not the blonde woman standing in front of him. not the sky. not the stupid bar. even his drugs seemed lackluster to the high you gave him whenever you told him you loved him.

he walks away. he needs something. something to make him unable to think for the rest of the night.

never thought you’d be so damn hard to replace. i swear I don’t mean to be this way, if I can’t have you? is love completely off the table?

“y/n? you there?” you feel vibrations from snapping on your face from the man sitting beside you. he snapped three times, to be exact.

“yeah! yes.” you quickly correct, adjusting your posture along with it.

“i know you appreciate the arts, but that painting is nothing to stare at.”

the painting chan was referring to, seemed plain to a simple eye. it simply, was a black square. but you saw worlds in it. you saw him.

“you know christopher,” you cooed, giving his slim cheek a quick sqeeze before continuing, “just because something seems boring to the naked eye, doesn’t mean it actually is. sometimes, a simple work of art such as that lame black square can hold a thousand meanings.”

he smile is radiant. honestly, the neon colored walls in the movie theater couldn’t compare to it no matter how hard it tried. lately, you had been trying to predict what he would say when you tried to be somewhat of substance around him. you were truthfully scared of boring him.

maybe you saw yourself in the black square as well.

“you really find it interesting, love?”

his accent - God his accent. it had an effect on you that truthfully wasn’t healthy, but even so you always felt guilty when your heart would papilate as it touched your eardrums. but why? you were single. you were moving on.

you can’t even look at him anymore, so you settle on the painting once more. now that you think about it, it was kind of scary that it was in a movie theater. maybe chan was on to something - what was its purpose? to simply cause you pain? to make you think about things and people you could no longer have? a person who is the worst possible thing for your growth, but the best food for your pitiful, lonely soul?

“never mind, you’re right.” you stand promptly, suddenly wanting to get as far away from the evil on the wall. it didn’t matter how chilly it was outside.

“woah.” chan chases after you. you’re too quick though. you’ve practically swam through the crowd to escape into fresh air. what is wrong with you?

it doesn’t take long for you to find yourself at his car. his pride and joy by the way, in which he never let anyone else ride in yet. he had been saving for so long to get it. you didn’t know the model, all you knew was that it made loud noises when he wanted it to. the car was originally white, but the two of you agreed that it was the worse possible color for a car, so he got a paint job and now it was as black as a dark hole.

the stars are beaming, and it’s odd. you used to love nights like this. you preferred the day time, but it was something about a light in the dark, such as the moon that pulled you in. it always destroyed you in the end though.

“what did I do?” his voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

“huh?” you wizzle in confusion, not understanding why he believed he had done anything but gave you a peaceful night not lost in your thoughts.

his eyes tell you everything you need to know before his mouth does. he isn’t questioning your ever changing emotions and happiness to hear satisfaction from your mouth - to boost his ego. he truly feels as if he’s ruined any chance he’s had with you simply from being himself. even so, as he waits for you to answer he’s taking his bomber jacket off for you to wear. he was sweet like that.

“chris, you are always perfect. why would you think anything different?” you say as you put the jacket on.

he’s holding back a smile, but you can tell it’s more so from your proper word choice, and not what you said.

“you trying to sound English?”

“no.” you giggle, pushing his shoulder lightly. “I’m just trying to communicate with you.”

“then tell the truth.” he prompts, taking a step closer to you.

“can I lean on the car?”

“yes.” he laughs in a low tone. “you can lean on the car.”

“okay.”

silence is filling the air, and it’s making you sick even though it shouldn’t be.

“y/n.” he finally speaks. you decide you have the balls to look at him even though it feels so wrong. the stars - they’re sparkling right into his eyes and you know you are the dumbest idiot on earth.

why can’t you just choose him?

the question is repeating over and over in your head, but no answer comes. well, no answer you want to hear comes. this should’ve been easy money. the perfect guy, with a good family and solid morals is madly in love with you. he’s still here, even when you barely give him anything to work with, and you’re thinking about others who were nothing close to that no matter how they made you feel.

“my confession ruined everything, didn’t it?”

it was about two months ago that chan confessed his love for you. you laughed a bit, as it made no sense. the two of you had been in the same circle for awhile, and you had been notified of his appreciation for you long ago, but he had seen you break. he watched you go from happy soul to broken and he still liked you? in what world?

you enjoyed his company. that’s why you began to hang out with him practically everyday - doing whatever you two wanted. most of the time you two just watched movies, or played silly board games. but sometimes you would go shopping, or he would play you his music he worked on. you could tell he lacked confidence on what he could become, but you knew he had the potential to be so great.

his confession was short and sweet. and the way he approached you, you could tell he was somewhat confident that you would feel the same. you did feel the same, but you also still had feelings for others. when you declined his request to take things to the next level, he didn’t get upset. or at the least he didn’t show it.

he promised the two of you would move at your pace. and that was all you needed to hear to know that maybe one day, when you got yourself together, the two of you could be something.

chan always protected you. you never felt endangered, or unsafe when you were with him. to you, he was sweet, to others he was still sweet, but he knew when to be stern.

“no. i promise.” is all you answer. “it’s cold.” here you go again trying to change the subject. this wasn’t like you.

he promptly unlocks the door to his car, opening it for you as well. it isn’t long before he’s on the drivers side turning on the car so you could feel some heat on your body.

“i won’t bring it up anymore.” he sighs.

“no chris. you bring it up everytime you feel it. i like you, okay? i do. i know I’ve never said it out loud before, but I do. i just...i don’t know what I’m doing right now. there are some things I have to get over you know?”

you can tell the amount of words you used - probably the most you had spoken to him in months shocked him, and made him feel extremely guilty. you know he didn’t want you to feel like he was trying to pressure you. all he wanted to have was something. something that made him feel as special as he knew you had made others feel in the past.

“y/n I’m a fucking idiot. God, don’t listen to me. you are perfect okay? we are working at your pace and we always will. i - fuck.” his face goes directly in his hands.

it’s cute - the way he cares about his every move around you so deeply. you remember what it felt like to feel like that. it was the most nerve wracking, yet butterfly giving thing to experience when around someone you admired so much.

“chris...” you whisper, removing his face from his palms. he had the softest hands ever. “hey, don’t beat yourself up okay? i know what you want and I know you have nothing but the purest intentions. if I didn’t feel that way I wouldn’t want to spend everyday with you okay? whatever you think this is, it is. i promise.”

“okay.” he sighs the biggest breath of relief you had heard in a long time. “okay. i know what we need.” he offers. your hand lingered on his, and he decided it would be best to hold yours as the opportunity presented itself. it’s nice - the warmness. yet, it feels incredibly wrong.

you truly didn’t mean to be this way. you would do anything to not be this way.

“let’s go cop something from felix. hm?”

what chan was reffering to was the good ole’ mean green, weed. you smoked a lot more in the past than you did now, but you were still no angel. especially tonight did getting high sound like the best decision you could have made.

“yes please.” you say without hesitation, leaning back in the seat. your left hand is still in chan’s right, and you don’t plan on letting go. felix’s house isn’t that far from here, so you know your pleasure will be coming sooner or later. chan starts the car and begins the journey. usually, the two of you drive with music on, but tonight the silence was what the both of you wanted.

secretly though, chan snuck his AirPod into his left ear. he loved music, but he could tell you weren’t in the mood. and he didn’t mind that. he would do anything for you. the lyrics resonated with his with his soul so much that he felt it ache, even though he felt he had no right.

i’ll wait for you

even if I always feel like I’ll be number two

to someone you can’t hold anymore

taeyong can’t even recall how long he had been pent up here, high as hell. intoxicated as fuck. the chicken tender meal he brought had been long gone, but not from his mouth. the junkies smelt food, and took food like the animals they claimed to be.

this all sucked so bad. he hated being here. but he couldn’t move.

it was so loud in here. the boys he knew - johnny, mark, and jaehyun were all present. they seemed to be the leaders of the basement and they also seemed to be functioning quite well considering how high they also were. taeyong couldn’t fathom or make out what their conversation were, but he assumed it was about girls. he caught, “they’re supposed to be here any minute now.” from jaehyun’s lip. he seemed to be the strongest ladies man. all taeyong knew, was that he wanted no parts of the drug induced orgy he knew was going to take place. he also knew if he didn’t leave, they didn’t care. they were going to give a show regardless.

“taeyong!” johnny yells, bringing him back to focus. johnny was always very intimidating. he wore a smile when he got what he wanted, but if he spoke to you and you didn’t listen, he quickly got upset. maybe he was different when he was sober, but that was never.

“what’s up.” taeyong answers dryly, still not looking at him.

“you know,” johnny sits down in the dirty floor right beside him. “you’ve never been fun, but you were more fun before than you are now.”

“i went through this phase.” mark interrupts, taking the seat on taeyong’s opposite side. “what is it? mommy issues? a girl? or a boy? if you get spicy like that.” he chuckles. he coughs right after.

“how about everything. except the last part.” taeyong whispers.

“oh...you have it rough. was your mom a druggie too?”

“no - well, I don’t know. i met her like once when I was younger. she told me ‘i did it for your good’ and left.”

“so you were in a foster home? or did you get adopted?”

“foster home. neglected, so now I’m like this.” he chuckles. he’s laughing, but in reality to admit these things out loud hurt, even though he was sure the other boys had similar or worse stories.

“and the girl?” mark asks. he had began to roll up another blunt in the midst of taeyong’s life story. maybe it was too much for him. or maybe he was just an addict.

“i cheated. and i was mean. she was the best thing ever though. she got me clean.”

“for what? a day?” johnny laughs outloud.

“well, not clean clean.” he explains. “but off the hard stuck like coke, and lsd and shit. we both smoked weed. and I smoked cigs.”

“ew!” the two of them exclaim. “cigs?”

“so you’re telling me that the two of you do every drug under the sun, but cigarettes are where you draw the line?”

“duh!”

“have you seen all the commercials? with the person with the hole in their throat sounding like the old shriveled lady from spongebob going ‘chocolate!’ we don’t want that!”

“cigarettes aren’t the only thing that can cause that, you know?”

“whatever.” johnny shivers as if he had just gotten the worse news ever. “so this girl wasn’t a druggie? why did she even like you?”

“i don’t know. still to this day I don’t know. but she did. and she tried everything to make me happy. it just felt too good to be true, so I ruined it.”

“damn bro.” mark sighs, taking a deep puff of his blunt. “i thought people only did stupid shit like that in the movies or tv shows.”

“hey hey now, markie.” a voice speaks out of the corner. “be nice to our new friend.”

it’s jaehyun. funny enough, jaehyun tried to get at you once long before you met taeyong, but you had no interest in him once you found out his issues. then again, while he was attracted to you, he didn’t want you to love him. he just wanted to corrupt you.

“our boy is broken hearted. seems to me like he just needs some fun.”

“relax, jae.” johnny explains. “he’s not there yet. let him fall for us on his time.”

“what are you on right now?” jaehyun inspects.

“just a couple of blunts.”

“so just a starter?”

“hyung...” mark sighs.

“okay okay. fine. but when the heartbreak starts to kick in more, i got something that’ll change your life. you just let me know.”

“he will.” johnny and mark say once again in unison.

“boys!” a voice yells. it makes everyone stand up minus taeyong, as he had no idea who it was. he can hear feet coming down the steps. there’s a boy with blonde hair. the same boy who let him in. he was a new face, but clearly an important one from the way even jaehyun was waiting for his comment.

“hi felix!” everyone begins to repeat after eachother.

his voice is deep as he speaks, and his accent is thick. his face itself may have not been scary, but the way he carried himself was.

“clean up this fucking mess. i know you can’t do anything about the shitty couches, but make an attempt. i got some good people coming over and I need quiet. when I bring them down here to show them the product, i need everyone on their best behavior.”

“what exactly does that mean?” taeyong speaks. maybe he shouldn’t have, because everyone is looking at him as if he just called the president a bitch to his face or something.

“you’re new here.” felix explains as he finishes his strut down the stairs. he can be seen more clearly now, and his outfit reminds taeyong of someone you knew. he couldn’t remember his name, but it was chan or something. “well, new to me.”

“and?”

“and...” felix crouches to his level. “im the boss. and all of you do what I say. my brother ran this like a crackhouse. i want us to make some real money, therefore you all will be getting cleaned up. there will be people coming in and out, looking at what we have, so try not to act like the druggie you are. thanks.”

“yes sir.” taeyong says, although he has no intentions of respecting this felix cat.

the doorbell rings promptly. the house wasn’t so big that they wouldn’t be able to hear. clearly this felix had plans to change that, but for now he had to settle.

“that’ll be them. look like friends so they won’t be scared. they’re not like us. or, what you will be.”

with that he leaves. everyone is silent as they want to know who exactly is this person. they all expected some rich man with a million connections to be at the door. they hear one voice - an accent is present. he’s laughing, and they hear the sound of them dapping up.

“friend.” the voice says. they must have not seen each other in a long while. “what’s up? how have you been?”

“oh, I’ve never been better.” felix says. “and y/n.”

the sound of your name makes taeyong’s heart stop in his chest. what the? how could you of all people be here? you hated drugs. this was clearly a trap house. this is where taeyong would go to get everything you wanted, but you always refused to go with him. what male had you here?

jaehyun is smiling as he recognizes your name too. taeyong can’t notice though as he is genuinely about to have a panic attack.

“come downstairs will you? since chan told me it was a special occasion, I decided I’d let you two take a look.”

“felix...are you running a trap house?” you joke, not realizing how true your words were.

“not at all, sweets.” he relaxes you. “i just have good shit from my brother that needs to be sold. this is our little secret though.”

“we know.” chan answers for you. “snitches get stitches.”

“and end up in ditches.” felix finishes. “there are people down here, but they’re just chilling. don’t be scared.”

the three of you make your way down to the basement. jaehyun is the first face you recognize. you feel sick, but he didn’t phase you that much.

the black haired boy though, sandwiched between two other guys, makes your trip and fall on the disgusting floor.

it’s him. it’s really him.

why? all you wanted to do was have fun. all you wanted to do was forget him.

you can see in his eyes does he want to explode. but this was his fault. this was all his fault.

to be continued...

#nct #nct 127 #nct imagine #taeyong nct #NCT angst #nct reactions #taeyong series #taeyong angst #taeyong imagine #nct imagines #NCT series #stray kids #stray kids felix #chan stray kids

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 3 years

Text

The Wait

Warnings: This chapter deals with pregnancy! I’ve CW’d them for that in the tags!! If you need me to add any additional tags, please let me know. I’m not a doctor and have never been pregnant. Just, you know. Disclaimer.

Summary: Thing is, you think you’re able to keep it quiet from the guys for a while.

You don’t tell the guys the good news at first. Thing is, because you don’t tell them, they notice some stuff about you. Stuff like the fact that you’re getting up to pee… More often than usual. You just pass it off as drinking a lot of water - hydrating way more, it’s been a goal of yours, anyway. They let that go.

But then there is also that time Connors gets a tuna fish sub with extra mustard and relish and you nearly throw up in the middle of the bullpen. You manage to make it to the bathroom before getting sick. Borracho meets you in the hall with a bottle of water, a pack of gum and a kiss on the forehead. You take a walk around the block to get the smell out of your nose. When you get back to the office, all of the windows are wide open. You know it’s Borracho’s doing, but the guys are all ribbing Connors for bringing in the smelliest sandwich imaginable. With this distraction you manage to meet Borracho’s eye and mouth, I love you, without anyone noticing. --

The two of you have some stuff to figure out - moving into a new place is your first priority. Your current apartment just doesn’t have enough room for a baby. The two of you have been looking at a few places, have gone to a couple of open houses, but nothing has seemed like a good fit. Borracho, unsurprisingly, wants to move somewhere closer to his family. You do see the appeal - more people in close range to help with the baby. And you do love the Magalons. But you also… Kinda like having your space. And maybe that’s a little selfish of you, especially considering how much you know they’re going to offer to help you two with the baby. After your first prenatal doctor appointment, the two of you go looking at a few places. The two of you have mostly been looking at two-bedroom apartments. You see one or two that you kind of like, but the two of you agree that what you saw was not what you were looking for. You stop to grab a bite to eat - you’re getting sleepy (you’re so tired these days, but Nadia tells you that that’s normal - so does Megan… And Isobel… And Regina, and your mother), and Borracho didn’t eat before the two of you left the apartment that morning. The two of you cuddle up on the same side of a booth at a diner, and you don’t even care that you look like the kind of couple that you used to make fun of. You’re too comfortable, tucked into Borracho’s side. You’re half-asleep (“Resting my eyes, I swear,” You mumble when he accuses you of being completely asleep), and he’s scrolling through more apartment listings on his phone while you wait for your food. “Food’s here, sweetness,” He murmurs, and you vaguely register the light thunk of plates being set on the table. “You want another cup of coffee?” The waitress asks, “You look like you could use it.” And she’s right, you’d love one, but you need to start cutting back on the caffeine, so you give her a smile and ask for more water instead. “Our baby better appreciate my caffeine withdrawals,” You sigh, scrubbing at your eyes. Borracho chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple. “They will. Hey-- Gabriel sent me a listing. You up for checking out one more when we’re done here?” You consider it for a moment as you pick up your spoon and push your oatmeal around to help it cool a bit. If Gabriel sent it, it’ll probably be quite close to the Magalons. And frankly, right now what you really want to do is go home and curl up on the couch. But you might feel better after you’ve got some food in you. So you nod. “I could go for one more.” -- It’s a condo, not an apartment. It’s got plenty of light; the bedrooms are right across the hall from one another; there’s only one bathroom, but you think you could live with that; the kitchen is much more open than the kitchen you have now. It’s a twenty minute drive to the nearest Magalon home; they’re not right on top of you and you don’t feel underfoot. “What do you think?” Borracho asks as the two of you leave. “... I really love it, but I didn’t wanna say it while we were in there. What do you think?” “I think… We should look at the listing online again and then maybe go to the bank. See what we can do about a loan.” You grin. “I would so be doing a little excited jump but I feel like if I jump right one, I am going to throw up.” “I’ve got the gum.”

-- Thing is, you think you’re able to keep it quiet from the guys for a while. You don’t intend to at first, really, you don’t, but they do catch on to some things - like the fact that you’re not drinking when the group of you go out for drinks after work. You just pass it off as being the designated driver for the two of you, and the guys rib Borracho, telling him to let you have some fun once in a while. You’re able to hide the slowly growing bump under your jackets and shirts and dresses. Nick officially finds out first - you schedule a meeting with him to discuss maternity leave during your fourth month. He has a straight face for a few moments before he nods and congratulates you. “Thanks,” You smile, “Who won the bet?” “Connors.” “Motherfucker, every time.” The guys won’t tell you how much the bet was for, though - they won’t even tell Borracho, which is new, and weird. But the two of you shrug it off, and the guys insist on taking the two of you out that night, and make a show of buying you rounds of seltzer.

-- “Do you want to know the sex?” You turn away from the ultrasound to look at Borracho. The two of you have been asking each other that all week. “We’ll get a bunch of yellow stuff if we don’t,” You’d pointed out, “Do we want a bunch of yellow baby stuff? Or people will buy a ton of stuff one color or the other and then be like, ‘well gosh, now you can’t use it’ if it’s the other sex-- Even though we’ll use it anyway-- Am I overthinking this?” You’d asked, looking up at him from where you were cuddled back against his chest on the couch in your new condo. He’d looked down at you, brows raised. “You are, but it’s hilarious, so, please, keep going.”

“Do you wanna know?” You ask him now, because if there’s a time to stop the technician from telling you, it’s this moment. And Borracho glances from the ultrasound to you before he shakes his head a little. “Do you?” He asks. You smile and shake your head. “We’ll wait,” You say, turning to look at the technician again.

“I love this green!” Nadia’s squealed declaration is ear-piercing, but you’re glad she approves of it. You laugh a little, watching her look around the room. You and Borracho painted the room a couple of days ago. The two of you had settled on a sage green color - not too in-your-face, but something that would be warm and welcoming. Borracho and Gabriel are out getting some of the furniture for the nursery now - the bassinet, the rocking chair, the combination changing table-dresser. Nadia’s dropped her kids off with Isobel to come over and help you guys start building some of the furniture. “You’re getting a rug?” “A small area one, yeah. Grey,” You nod. “How’s everything been?” Nadia asks, watching you lower yourself to lean against the windowsill. “Oh, it’s been…” Nadia gives you a knowing look, cutting off the, ‘being pregnant is great’ spiel you usually give the guys at work when they ask (because as sweet as it is for them to ask, they don’t really want to know). You sigh. “I’m constipated and my boobs are getting bigger.” Nadia nods, reaching out and patting your cheek. “Welcome to the club, honey.”

“Stop scratching.” “I’m not scratching.” “I saw you scratching, sweetness,” Borracho chuckles, “I’ll get the salve, get on the bed.” You don’t bicker with him. He’s been a saint - giving you a hand up to stretch when you have leg cramps, helping around the apartment more when you’re tired - and rubbing salve when your stretching belly is itchy. You lean back on the bed and pull your sleep shirt up. You sigh, giving your growing baby bump a rub. “Not scratching, huh?” Borracho teases, sitting on the edge of the bed beside you, “I see irritation.” “It’s itchy,” You whine. Borracho lets out a sympathetic hum before he leans down, pressing a kiss to your belly. You smile, watching him sit up and open the jar of salve. His sisters all swore by it - and they’d been right. It smells good, helps soothe the itch, and is a life saver. Borracho scoops out a small amount and begins to rub it in. You sigh, resting your head back against the pillows. “We still have to narrow down names,” You remind him. He hums, nodding, and you reach out to the notepad you keep on the bedside table. “Don’t drop that on your face again,” He teases as he reaches into the jar again. “You made me laugh last time, so that’s still your fault,” You argue, but you’re giggling. You flip it open, finding your list. “Mmm… Start with boy names?” You offer. “Sure, sweetness,” Borracho murmurs. “So we’ve got… Liam… Santiago… Xavier… and Giovanni.” “I don’t like Giovanni,” Borracho says, “I don't like the nickname ‘Gio’.” “Well someone’s name doesn’t necessarily dictate their nickname, Borracho,” You tease, “But I’m fine to take that one off of the list… I don’t think I like Liam so much anymore.” “Really?” “Mm. Liam Magalon. They kinda run together. LiammmMagalon.” Borracho chuckles, closing the jar of solve. “Liam’s out, then.” You reach out to the bedside table and grab the pen, crossing off Liam and Giovanni as Borracho stands up to put away the salve. “So that leaves us with...Santiago or Xavier.” “What about girls?” You turn the page. “Mmmm… Malia… Faye… and Xiomara.” “I like Malia,” Borracho flops onto the bed beside you. “Yeah?” You raise a brow, looking over at him. He nods a little. “Malia Magalon… Lia for short. Be cute.” “It would be cute,” You smile. Borracho watches you for a moment before he leans up, kissing you gently. You lower the notepad and cup his cheek, humming quietly. “Agreed, then?” He murmurs. You nod. “Malia if it’s a girl,” You murmur. “If it’s a boy?” He asks against your lips. “We’ll figure that out later,” You drop the notepad on the bedside table, reaching out to catch hold of his shirt with your other hand.

You have two baby showers. You expect one, but not the other. They’re both sort of surprises in their own way.

The first one is more traditional. It’s at Regina’s house - your friends, Borracho’s sisters, and your family are there. Borracho knows before you do that it’ll be happening. If you’re honest, you kind of suspect it. He’s on his phone all morning - you see his mom’s name, his sister’s names popping up. You don’t look too closely at the messages, but you’re suspicious when he mentions swinging by his mom’s to pick up a couple of things and asks you to tag along. He knows that the jig is up when you come out of the bedroom in a photo-ready outfit. “... Was I obvious?” He asks. “No, babe. I just know how Magalons do surprises now,” You tease, before pecking his lips, “Let’s go.” --

The second one you do not expect at all.

Nick asks you to drop a file to someone on another floor.

There’s a moment where you think, ‘Can you ask someone that isn’t seven months pregnant?’, but you take it and go. The elevator takes a stupidly long time both ways. By the time you make it back, your desk has been decorated, the guys are all standing around it, and there’s a banner hanging from the fluorescent lights that says, ‘Surprise!’

Tears fill your eyes and you cover your mouth with one hand and wave at your eyes with the other.

“She’s crying! Pay up!” Nick yells.

Borracho runs his hand over his face before directing his gaze at the ceiling.

Once you’ve calmed down, you sit at your desk and the guys give you a few gifts for the baby. Henderson passes out cupcakes (you eat yours and Borracho’s).

“You guys find out if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“Nope. We’re flyin’ blind,” Borracho says, rubbing his hand between your shoulder blades.

“How much money is riding on it being a boy?” You ask, peeling the wrapper off of the second cupcake. The guys look between each other and you tip your head to the side.

“C’mon, if you tell me you’re not betting on it, I am so calling bullshit. Do you know?” You turn to Borracho, but he shakes his head, “Not a clue, sweetness.”

“We’re gonna let it be a surprise. You’ll see,” Nick waves it off.

“Settle down, tiny,” You grumble, looking down at your stomach, “You’ve gotta let mama sleep.”

“Kicking again?” Borracho asks.

“We’re having a soccer player,” You tell him as he comes over to the bed, “Or a can-can dancer.”

“Maybe they’ll do both, why are you trying to limit our baby?” Borracho teases you. You chuckle.

“Maybe they will-- Or maybe they hated that idea,” You wince at a particularly hard kick.

Borracho lays down on his stomach beside you and leans closer to your belly.

“No more kicking your mama, little one,” He murmurs, “We talked about this.”

You raise a brow, peering down at him from where you propped up on a small mountain of pillows.

“Did you?” You ask. He hums, nodding and rubbing a hand over your belly.

“When exactly did you have this talk?” You add, “I feel like I would’ve remembered this.”

“You were napping at the time, sweetness. This was a dad and baby talk.”

You bite your lip, fighting a wide smile.

“Do you have these talks often?”

“Sometimes.”

You reach out, running your fingers through Borracho’s hair.

“...Are you excited?” You ask. You feel like you haven’t asked since… Well, since you told Borracho that you were pregnant. He nods, looking up at you,

“A little nervous,” He admits, “But… Yeah, I’m excited. Are you?”

“Mhm. Not just because I won’t be getting kicked… from the inside, but… I wanna meet our kid.”

Borracho chuckles and sits up, placing his hands on either side of your head and bracing himself as he leans in for a kiss. You smile, reaching up and cupping his cheeks.

“... Well, thank you for the dad and baby talk. Tiny listened to you,” You glance down at your stomach.

“Mm,” Borracho lowers his head and presses a kiss to your neck, “Anytime, sweetness.”

Borracho’s at work when it happens.

You try not to panic.

You just take a deep breath and pick up your phone and call Nadia and say as calmly as you possibly can that your water broke and you need someone to drive you to the hospital. She doesn’t exactly… Answer, at first? She kinda screams - an excited one, but it doesn’t exactly calm you down.

You call Borracho after Nadia tells you that she’ll drop the kids off with Regina and be right over.

“Hey, sweetness. I just followed up with the witness Nick tracked down--”

“My water broke, Benny.”

“...Is this a drill?”

“I know that class we took recommended drills, but I was so not into that idea, it seemed alarmist.”

“Fuck-- Okay, I can--”

“It’s okay, Nadia’s on her way to get me. Just meet us at the hospital.”

“The bag’s--”

“Next to the door, I know, Benny.”

“Are you okay?”

You let out a shaky little laugh because you’re a little freaked out right now.

“It’s gonna be alright, sweetness,” He adds gently, “You sure you don’t want me to come and get you?”

“It’s alright, Nadia’s closer. I’ll see you at the hospital.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetness.”

“She’s so small.”

“...Can’t tell if that’s you or the drugs talking, sweetness.”

“Shush. I’m just… I am just saying… She’s frickin’ tiny.”

“Babies usually are.”

“Stop ruining this for me.”

Borracho chuckles, pushing your hair back from your forehead and pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting his forehead against yours. The two of you peer down at your sleeping daughter together, quiet for a few moments.

“Malia Rose Magalon,” You murmur. It’s the first time you’ve said her name aloud.

“...Lia’s got a very tiny nose,” Borracho mumbles.

You’re quiet for a moment before you glance up at him.

“Literally what was I just saying about her being small?”

When the guys come by to see you in the hospital, they have a gift bag with them.

“Guys, what even?” You nod to it.

“Well, you know those bets we had on… Whether or not you were pregnant, boy or girl, that kinda thing…” Henderson lists.

“Uh huh,” You nod.

“Here,” Nick sets the bag on the bed. Borracho carefully lifts Malia out of your arms, shushing her as she whines. You reach into the bag, pushing aside the tissue paper.

“We agreed that the pool money could all go to a… Better cause than usual,” Connors rubs at the back of his neck. You pull out a jar that’s filled with cash, labeled, ‘College Fund’.

“Figured we’d get you guys started,” Zapata adds, tucking his hands into his pockets.

There’s a moment of quiet in the room before Nick laughs, “She’s crying, pay up!”

#The Pool #The Wait #Benny Borracho #Benny Borracho Magalon #Benny Borracho x Reader #Benny Borracho Magalon x Reader #Benny Borracho x You #Benny Borracho/You #Benny Borracho/Reader #Benny Borracho Magalon x You #Benny Borracho Magalon/Reader #Benny Borracho Magalon/You #Benny Borracho Imagine #Benny Borracho Magalon Imagine #pregnancy cw #Pregnancy #Pregnant CW

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1010ll · 3 years

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do you have any new recipes that you've learned recently? i remember you wrote something a while ago about carbonara and i tried it out for myself it was really fun!!

i love this 😭 im gonna write way too much idec! something that has changed since that post: my kitchen is worse. i have a horrible combi oven which has resulted in me accidentally eating raw chicken, because it had been in there for more than 2 hours at supposedly 230 °C and i was really hungry and thought it HAD to be done by then. also i have less time and less money lol. it has made me a bit sad, and less motivated to cook nice things but i also love food! which means these tips/recipes are gonna reflect that and might seem a bit dull but probably also relatable for a lot of people. i’ve definitely made spaghetti carbonara a bit too much because it’s simple and require few ingredients! will still vouch for that one tip about substituting the bacon with roasted veggies and other types of meat.

last week i made risotto for the very first time, i think? which means i might be assuming a bit too much, but i think it’s a great dish that you can almost make with whatever you have in your fridge. i made it with roasted beetroot(needs A LOT of time to soften, lesson learned), carrots and parsley root or parsnip(idk the difference), dried rosemary and thyme, garlic and onion. i had some leftover sushi rice, which is great for risotto apparently(love versatile ingredients), roasted them in some oil and then added white wine and chicken stock and actually added a leftover parmesan rind i had in the fridge to give the ‘stock’ some flavour, a bit of nutmeg and then in the end some shredded gouda lol… it was surprisingly delicious and i didn’t even really care to cook the rice perfectly. it also tasted delicious 3 days later, which was a nice surprise. i bet there are tons of risotto recipes online, but as long as you have rice, some kind of flavoured water, i guess you could kind of add whatever you want of veggies and top with whatever herb you have around.

another type of porridge i consume a lot these days is hot oat porridge, which i’ve eaten since i was little and it was the first ‘dish’ i learnt to make myself and it’s cheap. some people really dislike the consistency and look but i don’t. it’s also very easy to customise. i put in whatever nuts and seeds(which are often cheaper than nuts) i have around: flaxseed, sesame seeds, pumpkin seeds, sunflower seeds, chopped almonds and sometimes a dollop of peanut butter. i let them simmer along with the oats. i like adding those elements because it gives it some texture and it keeps me more full throughout the day. it’s very important to me because i hate spending money i don’t have on fast-food when i’m not home and i hate being hungry. dried raisins, cranberries for a bit of sweetness and if i’m treating myself i’ll add some fresh apples cut into small pieces or some homemade berry compote(i use frozen) or brown sugar. if i had more money i’d use maple syrup but i don’t at the moment. i also add a bit of cinnamon and cardamom, dried ginger etc, whatever you feel like. some people also add milk afterwards but i’d rather spend my milk on my coffee.

a small tip: making chili flake / garlic oil. it’s really delicious, you could put it straight on pasta with some parmesan and pepper and it would be a filling meal. either chop the garlic really fine, grate it, microplane it, smash it to pieces. heat some olive oil until it’s quite hot, then remove from heat and add the chili flakes and garlic. if the oil isn’t hot enough you can just put the pan or pot back on the heat but be careful you don’t burn the chili flakes or garlic, as it will make it bitter. the longer it will toast, the less pronounced the raw garlic flavour will be, so when it smells toasted enough for your taste, take it off. i store it in a tiny glass jar and add it in stews, sauces, toasts, pizza, sandwiches etc. the flavour is very strong imo and everything it touches will smell like it. something to drink: i like strong foods and i like sour foods, which is why i like lemon/ginger based drinks. to make it even more winter friendly and easy to make, i like to grate unpeeled ginger(i hate slices of ginger, they do nothing for me and seems like a waste of ginger), lemon zest, lemon juice and mix it or blend it with some water/apple juice and honey and strain it afterwards. if you have a really nice blender you can just add all of it together with some ice. i’m basically making a large amount of ginger shot mixture. then when i feel like it, i can take some of the mixture and either drink it as it is, add more apple juice if i need a refreshing beverage or add hot water and more honey for when im cold. you could also add turmeric, chili, use less sweetener and other sorts of healthy stuff but i honestly do it for the taste so i don’t care about that that much.

something sweet: i posted earlier about cakes and someone mentioned swedish kladdkaka, which is a super delicious, cheap, brownie-like chocolate cake that is easily customized and hard to fuck up which is why i’ve made it since i was very young and is a go-to and i didn’t even know it was a swedish thing. if you like airy, light cakes this is not for your. this is sticky, sweet and almost like confection. you can add nuts, swirls of peanutbutter, tahini, actual pieces of chocolate, replace the white sugar with brown sugar, the butter with oil(you can be fancy and use a bit of olive oil) or use a mixture, brown the butter, you name it. the recipe i use is this: melt 100 g butter and let cool. mix 2 eggs + 3 dl sugar in a bowl until fluffy in one bowl. mix 1.5 dl flour, 4 tbs cocoa, 1 pinch of salt in another. mix the dry with the wet mixture and add the cooled, melted butter. this is the point where you’d add chopped nuts, chocolate etc. pour the batter into a cake tin lined with parchment (i use one that is 16 cm in diameters i think). bake the cake for around 30 mins at 150°C - 175°C degrees. check on the cake using a cake tester or a a knife. if the knife is clean after … stabbing it, it’s done! the cake will change it’s texture after cooling. this is a cheap cake, and if you like cake dough you might want to give it less time in the oven for a more fudgey texture. make it your own! there are no rules. last time i made this, i left it in for too long in my opinion but it was still delicious. also i literally have a shit oven with a round oven rack that goes in circles no matter what due to the microwave function, and the only ‘mixing’ equipment i have is a whisk and a spatula. no need for kitchen aids or even electrical hand mixers.

something else i’ve been eating a lot for lunch is simple open faced sandwiches, and something that can really elevate those is: making your own mayonnaise(and toasting the bread). it can be challenging, but it’s really worth it imo and i can’t remember the last time i bought it in a store. i have a small plastic bowl, whisk and 1 egg yolk. something i can really recommend is buying pour snouts for bottles. i transfer my oils from their plastic bottles to smaller, old soda bottles because im cheesy like that and it’s really handy especially when making mayo. constantly whisking the egg yolk by hand and then adding the NEUTRAL oil ever so slowly. don’t be fancy and use cold pressed stuff or extra virgin olive oil because it will taste weird. i only ever fail when i try to use immersion blenders for some weird reason but i find it rewarding to do by hand anyways and i think it might be easier to make smaller portions that way. mayo needs acid and you can get it by adding regular vinegar, apple cider vinegar, balsamic vinegar, lemon juice, lime juice, pickle juice, citric acid dissolved in water etc. it’s really easy to customise! when im making banh mi, i add some sesame oil, soy sauce for saltiness and use lime as the acidic element. for more regular use i add a bit of mustard(also helps with the emulsion), for fries, i like adding some fresh garlic. something as simple as mayo, tomatoes, flaky salt and pepper topped with chives is really nice. i also really like using slices of boiled potatoes or boiled eggs(idk if that’s only a thing where i’m from), mayo and the chili garlic oil. it’s also great for making tuna salad. yesterday i made a really simple sandwich with a very simple tuna salad(tuna, mayo, yoghurt, lemon and pepper), arugula, basil, the garlic/chili oil, cream cheese, pickled jalapeños and onions, green peber, cucumber and tomatoes. you could leave out everything but the tuna salad and it would still be a great little meal.

another nice condiment that beats the supermarket stuff by far is homemade ‘pesto’. when i buy parsley from my local grocery store, it’s a gigantic amount that i in no way can consume in a week. first of all when buying fresh herbs i really recommend washing them, wrapping them in a damp towel and keeping them in a closed container. it will prolong their lifetime from lasting a day to a week(change the towel if it seems too wet). i once had some cilantro in my fridge for several weeks and still be fresh. anyways, when i buy that much parsley, i like to remove the tougher parts of the stem(which i use in stews/sauces! chop it up and sautee it along with garlic and onion), add literally just olive oil, water, pepper, garlic, and a bit of acid and then blend away! it keeps for a long time in the fridge and is also delicious beneath tomatoes/potatoes/cheese on open-faced sandwiches. if you want to be fancy you can of course add some type of hard cheese, nuts, seeds, dried tomatoes, whatever.

i know this is the longest text post ever, but as a last reminder, i really recommend watching pasta grannies on youtube. really simple recipes with focus on few, good ingredients that just takes some time and love.

#sorry about the spelling mistakes and everything #it's not my first language but it probably wouldn't be much better if it were #food

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spookyspaghettisundae · 3 years

Text

Typical Colin

Helen jolted awake. To her growing shock, she was not in her own room, but in an unfamiliar, cold, dark place. Not on a bed, but on a hard concrete surface, coarse and rough. High ceilings, distant walls, all swallowed by shadow. Harsh edges everywhere, coupled with the smell of rust. She could taste the grit and filth of this abandoned hall.

Grime had fogged up windows, through which moonlight shone inside, dimly drawing outlines upon crates and steely shelves cluttered with all manners of junk, encased in bubble wrap and cardboard and seas of packing popcorn.

A warehouse she had never seen before, never been inside of before.

From where she was sitting on the ground, she almost jumped onto her feet when she heard something scraping. Metal against stone. Screeching, grating noises.

Drawing closer.

She backed up into one of the shelves, sending shockwaves through the clutter on them and causing it all to rattle and clink and then something toppled over and—

SMASH.

Glass shattered on the floor, shards, and liquid scattering all over, immediately followed by something like vinegar assaulting her nose.

The scraping sounds stopped. She held her breath, knowing what would follow.

Then the scraping started again. Faster.

Heading her way.

In a growing panic and increasingly nauseating dizziness, Helen scrambled away from the sounds closing in on her, taking a left turn here, pacing just quickly enough to not make noise but not fast enough to be running, then taking a right there, meandering her way through this maze of towering shelves and stacks of cardboard boxes of which no human could reach the tops. She descended deeper into the darker insides of this warehouse.

When she stopped to hide in a nook between objects cloaked by shadows, her heart beat so fast and loudly that she worried her pursuer could perceive it. Holding her breath again only made her heart race faster and fear itself erupted from her pores in a cold sweat.

The scraping passed by her, separated by a wall of shelves standing in between them. It was so dark back there that she could only make out a vague silhouette, further obscured by whatever had been piled onto the shelf beds.

Something the size of a man, walking on all fours like a dog rather than upright, creeping through the valley of warehouse junk with abrupt and stiff movements.

SHWINK. SCRANK. SHWINK. SHANK. SHWINK.

It sounded like four huge knives being dragged across whetstones to sharpen them.

Imagery of arm-sized blades filled her mind, attached to stumps where hands and feet should be. Even though she could not see them, her imagination filled in the blanks with something awful. Dripping with ichor, peering out from hollow sockets instead of eyes. A mouth without teeth, made only of hands and grasping fingers.

All in her mind.

Something else audibly clicked.

Behind her.

Trembling like a dry leaf hanging onto a skeletal autumn branch, she slowly turned to face whatever had just made that sound behind her.

Before having fully turned around, a soft glow flared up. Red, hot, and cold, all at the same time, weaker than a candle, closer to the glimmer of a cigarette.

A very big cigarette.

The toxic smell of smoke filled the air and made her cough, covering her mouth.

Something close to what she had just imagined. An eyeless thing only half her size, with grasping hands for a mouth. No blades, though. Its arms ended in stumps from which embers and ashes trailed off, carried away in a nonexistent breeze, like the ends of burning cigarettes, only grotesquely oversized and feeding from pallid flesh that stretched thin around gaunt limbs.

It raised those glimmering stumps, threatening to burn her, while looking pathetic and desperate at the same time. Like a small child, pleading for something and stretching up to try to grab it from the adult keeping it out of its little reach.

All fear drained from Helen. A scorching anger took its place.

She screamed at this amorphous abomination.

"You never got it, did you! Heroin was where you should have drawn the line, Nadine!"

Helen screamed at her old dead friend. But Nadine had never listened, and would not now, either.

SHWINK. SCRANK. SHWINK! SHANK! SHWINK!

The scraping gained speed and stopped abruptly.

The blade-armed thing was exactly behind her, and she was about to turn around and tell it to fuck off, but understood the futility of it. She just never got through to any of them.

Instead of seeing Kent, when Helen turned around, she jolted awake.

This time, she had awoken in her bed. Sitting up in a tangle of sweat-drenched pajamas and sheets, she stared at the empty spot beside her—the spot that had stayed empty for a full year.

Clink.

Clank.

Soft sounds from downstairs.

Sounds from the kitchen.

They made Helen's blood run cold. Her bangs were clinging to her forehead with sweat, sweat born from the nightmare and now painfully felt in the cool air of her bedroom, molting with the knowledge that there should not be any sounds coming from downstairs.

Because Helen lived alone ever since—

Ever since—

Her grip around the baseball bat tightened as she cautiously descended the stairs, creeping around, corner by corner, the hardwood floors burning coldly against her bare soles. A whole slew of unpleasant sensations, all overshadowed by the dread of a home invader, amplified by the horror of having left her phone in the kitchen, her only means of calling for help now separated from her by said invader. And only this baseball bat at her disposal.

Would anybody find her? Or would neighbors eventually notice the smell coming from her house after her inevitable murder, telling police and reporters alike how they would have never expected such a horrible thing to happen in their neck of the woods?

Clink. Swish.

Bottles jingled in the fridge.

Bastard was helping herself to her food, adding insult to injury. Had the lights on in the kitchen and everything—making no secret of the intrusion. Like he owned the place.

How ever had he bypassed the alarm?

His shadow bobbed back and forth, broadcasting his presence as Helen waited in the darkness behind the doorway, baseball bat raised high above her head and ready to crack a skull.

When she turned the corner, she gasped. Some part of her had been ready to scream and swing and strike, but what she saw—or rather, who she saw—robbed her of all ability to act. Her brain broke a little bit in the attempt of making sense of it.

Colin stood in the kitchen, making himself a sandwich. His skin was pallid, his clothing half-decayed and eaten by worms or corpse juices, all of which made sense for a body that had been buried for over half a year.

What did not make sense was him being here, standing in the kitchen, slathering mustard and mayonnaise onto bread and stuffing it with cheese and cold cuts. She had told the doctors to pull the plug half a year after the incident, then he was buried in the local cemetery. Almost twenty people had showed up to mourn his passing.

He turned around with his gross sandwich slapped together, took a bite from it with yellowed, rotten teeth, and started chewing with a terrible grin stretching across his face. More sadistic and malicious than anything he had ever displayed in his lifetime.

Mouth half-full, he said, "Hello, honey. I'm home."

Helen was speechless. Could anybody blame her?

She wondered if she was dreaming, but after waking up from a vivid nightmare just to walk into this unfathomable situation, she very well felt the stark contrast, the difference between reality and the glamours of surreal dreamscapes.

This was very real.

He chewed, swallowed—in a way that looked painful, like he was trying to swallow a cup of gravel—and forced his face to widen his grin. Some of his skin was sloughing off around the edges, drooping from his chin and jaw and turning his face into a grotesque caricature of his former life. But without a doubt, this was him.

This was Colin.

"Surprised to see me? Well, guess what, bitch. I'm here for some payback. I'm here to serve justice from beyond the grave. I—"

"W-what are you talking about?" she asked, cutting in while he rambled on about making her pay and other nonsense that sounded like it came from a bad movie.

Undead Colin guffawed. A raspy, throaty thing, emitting a stinging smell reminiscent of vomit.

"What I'm talking about? Bitch, you know exactly what I'm talking about. You had me killed by those punks. And you thought you could get away with it."

He continued eating the sandwich with a comically oversized bite. Almost to punctuate his accusations. Could he even digest food like this? The way he swallowed continued to look painful, like he was making a point more than enjoying anything from his previous life. Crumbs tumbled from the corners of his drooping lips, slime dripped down right after it.

Helen blinked and shook her head, unsure what of this baffled her more: Colin's return from a coffin buried six feet under, or what he was accusing her of. He took another bite from the sandwich.

"Are you out of your mind? Honey—"

"Don't you 'honey' me, you murderous witch," he grumbled, muffled, mouth full, sputtering out some sloppy chunks in the process.

"Those punks were just some hoodlums, some hooligans tweaked out of their minds on drugs. The cops said they had already put several homeless people in the hospital before they attacked you. You were—they were—you cannot seriously believe that I had anything to do with that. You were on life support for five months. Everybody tried to talk me into pulling the plug way sooner—I am in massive debt over it."

Colin's lips smacked as he chewed, and his face contorted. Dead skin wrinkled and sagged more dramatically than it ever had in his lifetime. Probably because gravity was dragging most of it down.

Confusion marked his visage.

He swallowed again and paused in his almost comical display of pretending to eat like a living human being.

"What?"

Undead Colin was clueless of how many awful things he was dredging up. A full year since his hospitalization and effective departure from this world—and here he was, bringing it all back in the most unpleasant way possible.

Tears welled up in Helen's eyes. She had struggled so much to come to terms with it all, to get over it all. She was not even sure if she had managed to fully move on, yet.

"When one of those dumb asshole kids confessed, he said you were challenging them, taunting them. He said you said you could take them all on with your hands tied behind your back. They tied your hands behind your back and beat you to death, you big oaf!"

Undead Colin had stopped eating. Things were obviously not playing out as he had envisioned.

"You mean you and your lover-boy didn't hire them to murk me?"

Helen's outburst was violent, shaking the baseball bat without raising it, choked by sobbing and anger.

"What the fuck are you talking about? What lover-boy?"

Small chunks and gobs of food lazily plummeted from Colin's speechless, dead mouth.

"You mean you and Frank—you and Frank weren't—you know—"

"No! What's wrong with you?"

"Y-you and Frank always spent so much time together, you knew each other way longer than—"

"So fucking what? I never cheated on you! You should have just asked! I would have told you. You fucking moron! What are you doing here? How? How even?"

No answer.

His milky eyes darted to the baseball bat in her hand, the head of which now rested on the white tiles of her kitchen floor, hanging uselessly by her side as she wiped tears from her swollen face with the back of her other arm. It was just too much for her to take.

And Undead Colin was slowly beginning to put two and two together.

"So, you, uh, you're livin' alone now? Huh?"

"It's been a year. Well, more like half a year since we buried you, but there was nothing they could do. You were—"

She lost her speech, going hoarse. Wiped more tears from her eyes because they kept welling up and flowing uncontrollably.

Part of Helen wanted to hug Colin. But even standing several steps away, he smelled like someone had vomited into a dumpster that a skunk had sprayed its stink in and on top of which a pack of dogs had taken a crap. The stench filled the entire kitchen. Through all the confusion and sorrow and tears, there was a flash of her wondering how many cans of air freshener it would take to get rid of the awful smell.

"Shit. Uh. I'm sorry, babe. I—I thought you and Frank—you know. So, I was wrong, huh? That's good, right? Good to be wrong for a change!"

"Yes, you were fucking wrong, you fucking asshole. I missed you so much."

"W-well, uh, I'm sorry for bothering you, then. I promise it all came from a place of, uh, love. I, uh," he stopped mid-sentence. Thoughts that must have trailed off. The words died in his dead mouth.

He gingerly placed the sandwich on the counter, no plate, just spilling crumbs everywhere and allowing some mustard to splotch the surface. Undead Colin stared off into the corner. His typical air of abashed shame lingered about him, just like the last time when he set the barbecue grill on fire and burnt off his eyebrows despite insisting that he knew what he was doing when he squirted bottled accelerant into it.

For Helen, the floodgates were open, all memories bubbling to the surface. The tears were not only born by bitterness and loss, but happy memories, as well. And wondering about all that could have been. Helen now wondered what would happen next.

She started to ask him about it, "Does this mean that—"

He interrupted and said, "I'm sorry. I'm—I'm so sorry I didn't have more faith in you. Sorry for accusing you."

He sighed. A long gasp, like a whole cemetery breathing its last breath. Then he collapsed. Colin crumpled to the floor in a lifeless, stinking heap. He did not even twitch for a split second, all the unlife evaporated from his being at once. His milky-white eyes remained open, his body contorted in an awkward arrangement of limbs that were not supposed to bend that way and had no business being left in such awkward positions.

Helen started to sob again and covered her eyes. Torn away as abruptly as he had inexplicably returned from the dead.

A fly even buzzed about him.

It took minutes until she recovered from a jumble of broken thoughts.

Then she realized that he had left her with the mess of cleaning up after him again.

Of course. Typical Colin.

Did not have the decency to crawl back into the coffin he had clawed his way out of. Some poor groundskeeper probably had to take care of re-burying him all over again. And she had to get his body back there, somehow, too. Her skin began to crawl at the thought of what kind of insects he must have had on and in his corpse.

Minutes later, Helen groaned at the realization while pacing in a circle.

Then the doorbell rang, and the rhythmic, repetitive flashes of red and blue light outside the windows suggested that police were at her front door.

Panic gripped her again, because this was no dream, and now she had to deal with the absurdity of it all. She had to pick up the pieces.

Typical fucking Colin.

—Submitted by Wratts

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elisaphoenix13 · 3 years

Text

Family Bonds

"Trade you my turkey sandwich for yours."

William stares at his twin as he slurps his soda noisely, ignoring the annoyed look Cassie is giving him from across the table. He had adopted quite a few mannerisms from the family after he finally felt comfortable expressing himself, and the noisy drinking could have easily been learned from Harley or Peter. Thomas didn't even look bothered. He just lifted the top slice of bread to show the fixings of the sandwich and it was enough explanation for his seemingly weird question.

It was devoid of honey mustard. William despised the stuff, but for some reason Thomas loved it. It was disgusting and he had no problem shoving the sandwich in front of him over to his twin. Once he got his blessedly honey mustard free sandwich from Thomas, he finally set his can of soda down.

"Mom probably wasn't paying attention when he was putting our lunches together." Thomas says.

"I don't blame him. He was frazzled this morning because Valerie and Lucy are sick." Cassie points out and then takes a bite of her salad. "Tony has meetings all day today so he can't help with them."

"How do you even know this? You weren't upstairs at all this morning." William points out.

"Dude, she's Mom's underling. Cassie is starting to just know things." Thomas snorts.

Cassie smiles. "Actually, he texted me and asked me to pick up some medicine for them after school. But I'm flattered you think I'm at that level."

"You are." The twins say in unison.

Cassie just rolled her eyes in response and they ate their lunch with the usual chatter. Classes, teachers, assignments, the newest rumor, and what they planned to do after school. The three of them normally walked home together (or William portaled them if he was up to it), and one of the things they knew they were going to do is go buy some medicine. Cassie also said she wanted to pick up some stuff to bake and decorate cupcakes and when Thomas asked about the occasion, she said it was just because. William didn't mind. He really liked her baking, not just because it always tasted amazing, but she also did a really great job decorating them. She even decorated them without going overboard with the icing which some professionals did.

The amount of icing should not equal the size of the cupcake.

"Maybe we can pick up some strawberries and whipped cream? Val likes to share those with me." William says.

"Sure. Mom said we could pick up whatever snacks we want anyway." Cassie replies.

"I need more pens too." Thomas says around his mouthful of sandwich.

"Don't talk with your mouth full." Cassie huffs.

William half expected his twin to open his mouth just to gross Cassie out, but Thomas didn't and instead chewed and swallowed his food. Stephen reprimanded him for it on occasion as well, so it was probably finally starting to sink in. When they finished their lunches and tossed their garbage into the nearest trash can, the bell rang for class and they said their temporary goodbyes before they headed to their classes. William had a class by himself next period, but Thomas and Cassie had their next class together. In the past, when he didn't have classes with Thomas or Cassie, he used to feel alone. Now he didn't care. School actually got a lot better for him and his brother ever since Stephen and Tony took them in.

They used to be bullied for jumping from one foster home to another, for the crappy clothes each home barely managed to put on their backs...and they even went days without food, bathing, or adequate sleep. It was depressing. William and Thomas decided they would prefer to live on the streets than deal with more abuse, and it was barely a week later when Cassie brought Stephen to them. At the time, William barely trusted her, but he trusted her enough for him and his brother to go home with them. Maybe it was some kind of desperate hope that it would be different than before, that they would be shown the care and love they deserved.

When it was, William and Thomas didn't know what to do. Right off the bat they were given a hot meal, a hot shower, warm beds, quality clothing...an endless list of things. William was personally afraid that it was too good to be true, but as time went on, nothing changed. Well nothing except him and Thomas being moved up to the penthouse once Tony was done building their rooms. The penthouse was huge and probably had room for five more bedrooms, but it was nice to be close to their new parents and siblings. The twins, of course, still went downstairs to visit Wanda and Vision for movies or lunches, but being upstairs made them happy. At least William. He enjoyed the feeling of family he got from the two men and the other kids. He even felt part of it. He was part of it.

Now he was happily in a relationship with Harley, and he also enjoyed spending time with Valerie. He was one of the few she would spend time with if Stephen wasn't available and it made him feel special. He also liked that she was so easy to please. If he needed to keep an eye on her, he could put on her favorite movie and she would lay with him until she ultimately fell asleep, or she would color while he did his homework. Just like Diana followed Cassie around a lot, William had his own little duckling following him.

When the school day was finally over, he went to his locker to put away the books he didn't need and Thomas and Cassie met him just as he was closing it.

"Ready to go?" Cassie asks.

"Yeah. Maybe I'll help with Val today." William says.

"Mom will probably appreciate it. Apparently Tony has work he needs to do and can't put it off any longer." She says as they walk out of the building.

They walk as quickly as they can to the nearest store, and William has to keep himself from laughing when he notices how antsy Thomas seems to be. He was constantly found bouncing his knee while sitting or looking ready to bolt when standing that one would think Stephen and Tony didn't regularly try to give him a place to run as much as he wanted. Which wasn't the case. Their mother always opened a portal to the lake house for Thomas when he looked ready to vibrate out of his skin or whenever he asked. William was a little luckier that he could practice his magic as long as he was careful.

Cassie was quick to find the medicine Stephen wanted for the little girls, and then the three teens gathered the snacks they wanted before heading to the front to buy everything. Usually they would be picking up Diana by now but she had a half day so someone else picked her up. All they had to do was walk home. William teleported them this time because they had cold items that he wanted to stay cold when he made his and Valerie's usual snack.

"Hey Mom!" Thomas grabs the box of cheez-its that Stephen was already holding out for him when they arrived. "Thanks!" He says before running into his room.

"Here's the medicine." Cassie says as she digs it out of the grocery bag and hands it to Stephen.

"Oh, good. Thank you. It's time for their next dose." Stephen sighs as he digs out a small medicine cup and also a medicine dropper. "I knew I had just enough until you kids got home. Would you mind taking Diana downstairs with you for tonight?"

"Sure!"

William pulls out the strawberries and whipped cream and joins Stephen at the counter to cut the fruit. He could hear Cassie telling Diana to get her homework, toothbrush, and pajamas together and saw Lucy sleeping in the playpen in the living room. Considering that Stephen looked a little tired when they got home, one or both of the girls had been fussing all day because they weren't feeling well, but William was intent on helping him out now.

"Is Val asleep?" William asks Stephen.

"Maybe. She's in bed watching The Little Mermaid if she's not." He replies as he gently places the cup filled with pink gloop in front of the teen. "Don't let her have too much whipped cream and make sure she finishes this please."

"Okay."

William scoops the strawberry pieces into a bowl and some whipped cream into a smaller bowl before gathering them together and grabbing the medicine and juice box that Stephen also set in front of him. He also grabbed a breakfast bed tray on his way out of the kitchen so Valerie would be able to access the snacks easier and not spill. William had put his backpack down on one of the stools at the counter so it was out of the way, but if he didn't grab it soon, he was pretty sure he would find it in his bedroom. Stephen knew he was good about taking it straight to his bedroom, but considering the circumstances, he would send it to William's bedroom through a small gateway. So he left it on the stool in favor of getting up to Valerie.

She was sharing Diana's room now that Stephen and Tony had moved the toddler out of their room, but she was still prone to getting up in the middle of the night and climbing into bed next to Stephen. Once she was past that stage, she would be moved permanently into her own room. It was already ready for her, and she used it to play in and sometimes for naps, but Diana's room was closer to the master bedroom. Valerie's was closer to William's, and he fully expected to find her in his bed when she was in her room.

Diana and Cassie pass by William as he walks into the bedroom, and he closes the door once they leave and turns to look at Valerie in her bed. She was awake and blearily watching her favorite movie as William placed everything on the nightstand so he can set up the tray. When she notices his presence, she immediately makes room for him and he lays on the bed next to her, smiling when she snuggles into his side.

"Hey angel. Brought you a snack." He says softly.

"Berries?" Valerie whispers.

"You know it. You gotta take some medicine first though okay?"

"Yucky." She makes a face when William grabs it from the nightstand but takes it and drinks it anyway.

"You can wash it down with juice and strawberries." William laughs and grabs the juice box and opens it while the little girl sits up. "Here you go."

"Thank you Liam." She says quietly and sips her juice.

"You're welcome."

He then grabbed the two bowls and put them on the tray that he had set up over her legs and she puts her juice box on it to eat some of the fruit. William didn't even have to cut her off from the whipped cream. Valerie didn't seem very interested in eating much of it, and he was able to make up for it since she didn't double dip. He made sure to teach her not to do that when she started sharing snacks with him.

"Can you stay?" Valerie asks softly after a few minutes.

"Like sleep in here?"

"Uh-huh."

The teen looks over at Diana's bed and then back at Valerie. "Sure. Dia is gonna stay with Cassie tonight so I can sleep in her bed."

The smile his answer brought to his little sister's face was worth it. He was almost one hundred percent certain she would crawl into bed with him eventually but he wasn't worried about getting sick. If he did, it wouldn't be a big deal. Stephen would undoubtedly stay home again and make sure William was taken care of despite the fact that he was older than the girls and capable of taking care of himself, but the teen was happy knowing he had someone to go to for something as simple as not feeling well. He didn't really have that luxury when he was in the other homes. The foster parents would basically tell him to suck it up and go to school anyway. He learned to suffer in silence after a few times of that happening.

He and Thomas even did their silent suffering after being taken in by Stephen and Tony, but the silence didn't last long. Stephen very quickly found out (as Harley and Peter warned it would happen) and he gently scolded them for not going to him. The sorcerer dropped everything to take care of them and it was the best thing the twins ever experienced. Stephen brought them soup, medicine, and made sure they were warm and comfortable enough. William hardly noticed he was sick.

Stephen came into the room about an hour later, and halfway through Cinderella, to find Valerie cocooned in her blankets against William and sleeping soundly. The teen had since set the tray aside to get more comfortable and he pointed to the empty medicine cup before the sorcerer could even ask.

"She took it all."

Stephen smiles softly. "Thank you. Tony is finally done with work so he's taking care of Lucy now. Did you want to get up?"

"No. I'm okay for now. I told her I would sleep in here with her tonight anyway." William replies quietly so not to disturb the toddler.

"I'm sure that will keep her from being scared. Any requests for dinner?" Stephen asks.

"Food."

The sorcerer looks at him flatly. "You're no longer allowed to date Harley. He's clearly rubbing off on you."

William smiles. He knew Stephen wasn't actually serious, and the smile his mother gave him before leaving the room was confirmation. He ended up having to eat dinner in the room with Valerie when Harley brought it up for them later that night, and he did his homework on Diana's bed while Valerie watched another movie before going to bed for the night. Fortunately he didn't have much homework and was able to go to bed at a decent time, and he double checked to make sure his sister was asleep and okay before he went to sleep.

As he predicted, he woke up with Valerie in bed next to him, curled against his side, and the plus side?

Her fever had broken.

#mama bear au #william kaplan #thomas shepherd #cassie lang #stephen strange #valerie stark strange (oc)

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ofieugogyshz · 3 years

Text

Fic;; This Will Get Better, ch. 7 - Rotomdex

Chapter content warnings: none

Word count: 3500

Chapter Summary: Having cleared the first Trial with ease, Mustard gives the students of the Master Dojo and its guests a few hours before starting the next one. In that time, Sarah decides to update her Pokedex, and meets Hyde, the son of Honey and Mustard. When everyone comes back for lunch, Mustard announces what the next trial is!

(Fic Masterpost)

-------------------------

Mustard announced that there would be a short pause before the second trial. I decided to take the time to look into getting my Pokedex updated. I didn't need it to be upgraded to a full, complete transfer over to a new device-- in fact, I hated that idea. I wanted to update the information in mine with that of Galar's, so that I'd know about any other regional variant Pokemon, like those three Slowpoke from earlier. I was going to need at least that much while we stayed here and trained.

“Do you know if there's any way that I can update my Pokedex while I'm here?” I asked Miss Honey. “Those Slowpoke didn't respond to Pika's Thunderbolt like I expected, and if we're going to be here for a month, I'd like to be able to know more about the local Pokemon.” While I spoke, I dug my Pokedex out of my bag, one that dated over 20 years old. I saw the surprise on Honey's face and let out an annoyed sigh, expecting yet another comment about its age. “I know, I know, it's old, but I've been able to keep it upgraded; the insides are far more up to date and have more memory than the original model did. Honestly, this is just a shell, but it's the same shell that I've had since I started out as a trainer.”

“Why... That's amazing that you've managed to keep it functioning after all this time!” The unexpected praise caused my face to warm up. “I wouldn't know how to upgrade that myself, but if there's anyone on the Isle of Armor that could, it'd be my son Hyde!”

“Hyde?” I tried to think back on everyone that I had met so far. No one introduced themselves with that name, and no one had said anything about being Honey and Mustard's child, either. She must have caught my confused look and nodded, as though remembering something.

“Yes, of course. You haven't had a chance to meet him yet-- he doesn't like to come out of his room often, and prefers to play with his inventions instead. If you go over here...” Honey pointed me towards his room. “...you'll probably find him inside.”

I went down the path she pointed, until I found a nameplate that said “Hyde”. I knocked on the closed door; there was no immediate response. I thought about knocking again when the door opened, and I had to look down to see a small child, maybe around age 8 or 9, looking up at me with an almost condescending face.

“What do you want? I'm kind of busy right now, so make it quick.”

“Oh, um. Uh... I'm looking for Hyde. Do you know where I could find him?” As soon as I said it, I knew that I had asked a dumb question. I had expected someone much older, given Mustard's age. Was Honey just that good at hiding her age, or... I did not want to think about that.

The little boy let out an annoyed sigh.

“Yes, that's me. Geez, why are you even knocking around if you don't know who you're looking for.” He started to close the door, and before I could stop myself, I put my hand on it to keep it from closing.

“Wait! Sorry, I just... Didn't know that you were going to be.... Um....”

“A kid?” He rolled his eyes at me. “Did you need something from me or what?”

Rude little shit. He was quickly getting on my nerves. But if his mom thought he could help update my Pokedex...

“Yes, actually, I did need something from you.” I held out my Pokedex. Hyde's grip on the door loosened and he adjusted his glasses to look at the device in my hand.

“What is that?” he asked incredulously.

I let out an annoyed sigh.

“It's my Pokedex.”

“I've never seen a Pokedex like that.” He motioned if he could take it, and I handed it over. He looked it over, opening it to look at the screen that had been replaced more than three times over the years.

I was attached to the old model of Pokedex. I felt bad when I had to scrape the insides out in order for someone to build a new computer inside of it, when times changed and technology improved far more than it could keep up. When information began to take up too much space, I paid someone to change its storage capacity, along with everything else. I had invested so much into it. Time. Money. Emotions. Experiences. It was my pride and joy as a trainer, having that model; where others had upgraded as soon as they could, I still clung to it, glad to relive memories that were forever etched into the casing. It wasn't just about the data-- data could be saved, duplicated, and moved. It was about the attachment, the memories it held for me. And upgrading to a new shell meant that I wouldn't have that connection to those old days anymore.

“It's a little bit older than you,” I said after a few moments of letting him look.

“Looks older than my dad.”

I could hear a snort of laughter from behind me, and I turned around, seeing Lance standing there, trying not to laugh. I crossed my arms, frowning at him.

“I'm sorry; I came to look for you, and--” he began.

“You're in no position to talk, mister 'listens to music from the 1800s',” I scoffed.

“1900s. And that's not even that old!”

“It may as well be the 1800s, old as your soul is!”

“Can you two stop your married bickering?” Hyde interjected. The small child looked annoyed: he was tapping his foot, arms across his chest, waiting for his presence to be noticed again. “I want to get back to work on important stuff; I don't have time for your old people nonsense.”

I couldn't tell whether I should have laughed or been appalled at that comment, while Lance seemed amused.

“Is this... is this how you treat people who want to ask you for favors?”

“You came to me; I don't see why I have to help you.”

I puffed out my cheeks, trying to hold back any rude comments. Kid or not, I wasn't above telling them off. But he was the master's kid, and my husband was there now, too...

“What's going on?” Lance asked.

“I asked Honey if she knew where I could get my Pokedex updated, and she suggested that I ask her son.” I jerked my head in the direction of Hyde. “But I'm starting to think that this was a waste of my time.”

“Look, I don't know how to update something that old. But I can give you a Rotomdex for you to use. I feel a little bad giving it away since my mom got it for me to use next year, but I'm not interested in doing the Gym Challenge. You want it or not?”

“Not particularly.”

“A Rotomdex would make it a lot easier to get around here,” Hyde began saying, as he continued to look over my ancient device to understand it. “They have maps, camera function, voice-based communications, and they're controlled by a Rotom, who are able to talk by using the installed voice libraries. And it's lot quicker for me than trying to figure out how this thing works.”

I thought about it. A Rotomdex sounded interesting, for sure, but the thought of using it felt off. It would be too different from what I was used to. Like I'd have to give up using my old Pokedex because of the new one.

“You'd just need a Rotom to put into the device. Trust me, out here you'll want a Rotomdex for the map system. It'll help guide you around the Isle and provide you with information on the area. It's really easy to get lost here.”

“Yeah... I won't need that. I've never gotten lost. I have a pretty damn good internal GPS; I can intuitively find my way to the place I need to be.” It wasn't even some sort of sixth sense developed over years of travel; I had always known the quickest way out of a route, cave, or forest. Even a trip to the distortion world in my younger years was disorienting at best, but I hardly got lost while in it. Still was not on my list of favorite places to go.

“That doesn't happen around here. Lots of overconfident trainers think that they don't need to use a map, and then they wind up getting themselves lost, especially in the forest. We usually have to wind up sending out a search party, like we did with you when you got here.”

“Excuse you, we were not lost!” I crossed my arms and huffed. “We were misinformed on how to meetup.”

Hyde handed back my Pokedex. It seemed that he was done with me if I wasn't going to take the offer for a Rotomdex. There was a quiet pause as we waited for the other to speak.

“If you're done here...”

“Ugh, fine, I'll take the d—stupid Pokedex.”

“It's a Rotomdex,” he corrected. Hyde opened the door to his bedroom all the way and invited both my husband and I inside.

It looked more like a workshop than a bedroom. There were many computers, all sorts of machinery scattered about. Cables were bundled up together, but that didn't stop the few spare ones creating tangles across the floor. There were boxes around the room used to house different components he kept.

“Sorry about the mess. Mom's always telling me to clean up, but I don't see the point if I don't usually have people over.”

Hyde went over to a cabinet in the corner and began to rifle through its drawers, trying to find something.

“Right...” That felt familiar to me. I was the same way when I was a kid, though I certainly didn't have the vast array of mechanical and computational skill as he did. I looked around and noticed something that was near his computer; it looked like a machine that he was working on, blue in color, and shaped like some sort of bird that I wasn't familiar with.

“What're you working on over there?” I asked, both curious and trying to be friendly with the kid. He was giving me a free Pokedex, after all.

“Oh that? That's my Cram-o-Matic. It's the invention of the century! It's my very own brilliant take on recycling. But it doesn't do a thing right now, since it's out of power. If I just had enough Watts...” He paused. “Hey, actually--! I can give you this Rotomdex if you can do a favor for me!”

I knew there was gonna be a catch. I sighed.

“Sure kid. I can try; what do you want?”

“Watts. All it would take is a measly 500 Watts to get the Cram-o-matic up and running!”

“Watts?” I looked at Lance, and he shrugged. He didn't seem to know what it was either.

“The two of you don't know?! Watts are the energy that you can get from the Pokemon Dens in the Wild Areas. Your Dynamax bands can absorb it whenever you're near one, and then we can transfer that energy into the machine or a battery with a cable!”

I looked at Lance; he was the only one between the two of us that had a Dynamax band.

“We don't have any right now, but would it be possible to pay you back later?” he asked.

Hyde tapped his foot against the ground as he thought about it.

“What are your names again?”

“I'm Sarah, and this is my husband Lance.”

“You're the Champions that my parents invited over for training, right?”

“That's right.”

“You guys are probably more the outdoors type, huh? Well, I'll loan this Rotomdex to you for now, Sarah, so long as you guys promise to pay me when you get the watts. Then it's all yours.”

“Yeah, that doesn't sound like an issue for me. Though, it might be a little bit before we get any. That okay with you, Hyde?”

He began to dig into the drawer again, and finally pulled out a flat, red device, about as wide as the Switch I had packed in my bag. He waved it at me. “No problem. Well, let me know when you've got a Rotom to put into here, and I'll help set you up.”

“If you guys had a PC, I could get that done right now.”

The kid lit up, as though proud to lord this incoming fact over me.

“It just got delivered this morning, while you guys were out doing dad's first trial! I watched the guy set it up.”

Hyde showed me to where the dojo's PC was. I connected to my account and withdrew a Rotom-- one that I had caught back in Sinnoh many, many years ago. It zipped around excitedly when I let it out, like an old friend who hadn't seen me in a long time. I directed it into the Pokedex. The screen lit up a light blue, and two large blue eyes, much like a Rotom's, appeared on the screen.

“Hi? Hello? Hello! It is I, your trusty Rotom, Plasmastar! So good to see you again, Sarah!” The Rotomdex floated around; not nearly as fast as the zippy Ghost-type Pokemon typically was. But it seemed overjoyed nevertheless with its new home.

Hyde grabbed the Pokedex, causing the Rotom inside to give a startled cry. “If you don't mind, I'll help talk your Rotom through proper installation, so it's familiar with how to use all of its components. It'll take at least an hour though.”

“An hour?!” shouted my Rotom, and it tried to pull itself away from Hyde's grip. “I don't have time for that! Please, please, don't leave me with him!”

“Sorry Plasmastar. But please bear with it, so you can help us. I heard you'll be able to read the map really well and be super helpful to us, if you do!”

It stopped tugging. “Super helpful? Say no more, I am glad to be of service!” I'm not sure what it was trying to do at that moment, but there was a flash that went off, temporarily blinding Hyde.

“Oops! Sorry about that, small human! I'll listen, but you better make it quicker than an hour! I want to go explore with Sarah again!”

Lance and I went outside to look around the dojo. Pokemon played in the grass; the groups of Jigglypuff and Buneary from yesterday saw us and ran up, excited to see us again. I reached into my bag and let out the two that I had caught so they could see their friends.

“Ellie, Bunbun! C'mon out!”

The Jigglypuff and Buneary appeared. They looked around while their friends stood in awe for a moment, before clamoring all around them excitedly. Ellie puffed herself up with pride, and began to tell her audience about her battle. She mimed out what happened, eventually getting Bunbun to play the Mienfoo. Though Bunbun was reluctant, she eventually joined in. She got so into it that she was suddenly going off script, including a lowkick when Ellie was supposed to dodge another punch, causing Ellie to bounce into the ground. Angry, the Jigglypuff began to yell at the Buneary, while the other turned around and stuck up her nose. Their audience didn't know what to do at this point, so they wandered away, going back to playing in the grass.

As amusing as it was, it wouldn't do me any good if my two newest members were fighting amongst each other. I walked over and pushed them apart.

“C'mon guys. Bunbun, apologize to Ellie; and Ellie, calm down. You asked her to do something she didn't want to do anyways. This is a consequence of that.”

Ellie huffed and turned away, crossing her arms while Bunbun continued to do so. I sighed.

“Please? If the two of you make up, I'll give you each a treat.”

At the promise of a treat, the two of them looked at me, before turning around and looking at each other. Bunbun smiled and apologized, and Ellie smiled and puffed herself up, as though proclaiming that she was in the right anyways. Bunbun looked away, pretending not to be annoyed by the display. Both of them looked at me, holding out their hands expectantly.

“Hey-- wait, I never said I was going to give you a treat right away! They're back in the Dojo; you'll have to wait 'til later for one.”

Both of them gave me an angry look and turned away from me, arms crossed. Well, at least they were in unison on that.

“Eheh.... Alright, how about the two of you c'mon back.” I held up my Pokeballs and they both went back inside.

“Trouble with your new friends?” Lance asked. He had let Zweilous out while Ellie and Bunbun entertained their audience, and the two-headed dragon was biting onto sleeve of his uniform.

“Nothing that I'm not used to.” I motioned to Zweilous. “On the other hand, I think I should be asking you that, except I know that's just how Zwei is. Did he break through the fabric already?”

Lance laughed and pet both of their heads in sequence, causing each one to finally let go of the loose fabric. He brought up his arm, looking at the sleeve. “No, not yet. He's just hungry. We should go back inside and get something to eat for lunch.”

Everyone had gathered in the dining room once more, with plates and bowls left out in the Dojo's main hall for our Pokemon. Zweilous ran over to the nearest bowl, both of his heads fighting over bites. Pika ran up to the bowl next to him. We let out the rest of our Pokemon, leaving them to eat while we headed towards a spot at the table where we could sit next to each other.

“Thank you, Ms. Honey!” everyone said before digging in. Chatter filled the dining room between bites, and everyone felt so warm and welcoming. No one seemed to begrudge us for having defeated all three Slowpokes, including those who never even got to catch up to one. In fact, many were excitedly speculating about what the next trial might be. I looked around the table, wondering if Hyde had joined everyone, or if he had missed the call to lunch. I couldn't see him. The din of the dining room began to lower as everyone filled up on the food made by Ms. Honey and the students who helped with meal prep. The final peals of laughter and conversation were silenced when Mustard stood up and addressed everyone.

“A-hem. I'd like to congratulate everyone who did their best this morning with the first trial. To those of you that weren't able to pass—may you have better luck next time. Take this time to train up! For those of you moving on to the second trial, I will take the time to explain what your next trial is. Now that you're all energized from lunch--” Mustard paused mid-thought, as though something came to mind.

“I think our second trial should be something to welcome them with. You know what would sound good for dinner tonight? The Master Dojo's secret recipe: Max Soup! Since we have two special guests, I'd love for them to have a bowl of Max Soup full of Max Mushrooms for tonight. And that's why your second trial shall be mushroom picking!” A collective, confused reaction, interspersed with some groans, went out among the students. I blinked, confused myself. How was gathering dinner ingredients supposed to be a trial? If anything, it sounded much easier than the first. Someone whispered to another student that they were glad they hadn't passed.

“Students!” The dining room quieted once more at Mustard's raised voice. “That's better. In case you forgot, or you aren't aware, Max Mushrooms are the key to Gigantamaxing, and I'm tasking all of you with finding three!”

Honey stood next to Mustard, explaining what we were looking for. “Max Mushrooms are red with a spiral pattern. You can usually find them in dark, humid places, such as the forest or Warm-Up Tunnel.”

Mustard, “And with that, your next trial begins! I'm countin' on ya!”

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 3 years

Text

no one asked but here we are:

i am procrastinating my ass off today and i saw this on @something-tofightfor ‘s page and thought “OH LOOK A NEW WAY TO PROCRASTINATE MY ASS OFF!” So here’s some useless information about me:

1. Do you put ketchup on hotdogs?

Yes. Alllll the toppings. Onions, relish, mustard, mayo and ketchup.

2. Choice of soda?

I don’t really like soda because I don’t love sweet beverages. Ginger Ale, I guess, if I had to pick.

3. Do you put salt on watermelon?

So I never knew this was a thing until I worked at a fancy schmancy place where there was a fancy schmancy watermelon cocktail that was finished with a wedge of watermelon that had been sprinkled with kosher salt. And it was fine but seemed unnecessary. So that was my long winded way of saying: not on purpose.

4. Can you swim?

I can. I had a small above ground pool in my backyard growing up and I was in it ALL the time. I also took lessons and grew up only a few miles from the ocean, so learning to swim with currents was part of my childhood.

5. Hot dogs or burgers?

Toss up. Gimme one of each at a cookout.

6. Favorite type of food?

Tacos. All kinds. Any kinds.

7. Do you believe in ghosts?

I do. But I’m not afraid of them.

8. What do you drink in the morning?

Coffee, black with a little drizzle of honey.

9. Can you do 100 push-ups?

The most I ever did at once was 40 (not the kind some asshats call “girl pushups”- we don’t have time for why I hate that- with your knees on the floor, but with my legs all the way extended) but I could certainly get to 100 if I had a few weeks to build up to it. I couldn’t do more than 12 a few years ago.

10. Summer, Fall, Winter or Spring?

Fall and Spring over Summer and Winter. But Winter is last.

11. Your favorite animal?

Giraffes. I got to feed one once and it was one of the best days of my life.

12. Tattoos?

I have one - the number 26.2 on my right foot. I got it after I ran my first and only full marathon (marathons are 26.2 miles). I have plans for more but there are other things I need/ want to save my money for before I can spend on ink.

13. Do you wear glasses?

I sure do. I have thick coke bottle glasses and without them the world is just a bunch of formless blobs of color and light and shadow.

14. Do you have a fear?

I have a very irrational fear of something happening to someone I care about while they’re driving. If it takes someone longer than expected to get somewhere I start to panic until I hear from them. It’s a problem.

I used to be afraid of clowns and I still certainly do not like them, but now I know how to choke people so... they can come at me I guess.

15. Do you have a nickname?

Most people call me Lyss. A few family members call me Lissie. My sister calls me Sissie because she had trouble with L’s as a small child and couldn’t say Lissie, not because it’s a cute form of sister. One of my very good friends from college calls me Fro-ho Baggins because of my giant ass hair.

16. Can you change a tire?

I’ve done it once and I dented the wheel well. After that time I always ask for help. I *could* do it...but I don’t wanna fuck up my car.

17. Favorite flower?

Daisies.

18. Can you drive a stick?

No, but I want to learn. I always wanted to know that in an emergency I could drive any vehicle I needed to. But that’s not true currently. I know that soon they will probably do away with manual transition altogether but I still wouldn’t pass up the chance to learn.

19. Ever gone sky diving?

No but I really want to! Fun fact- the head instructor at my gym has done like over 100 solo jumps.

20. Kids?

Nope.

21. Favorite color?

Green. All kinds of greens.

22. Can you whistle?

Yeah, like, really well.

23. Where were you born?

New Jersey

24. Surgeries?

I had major surgery on my right foot in 2018. I had an accessory navicular bone, which is the roundish kind of bump bone on the inside of your foot, right under your ankle. I had a second one growing on top of the existing one, and it was pulling the tendons in my calf and foot in the wrong direction. It caused my arch to completely collapse and it got to the point where it was excruciatingly painful to even walk. So they removed the extra bone, cut my heel away from my foot, moved everything back into place, took out about a foot of diseased tendon, and then screwed everything in place with one LONG screw through my heel and into my foot, and one small threaded anchor holding the good tendons to the spot where they’re supposed to go. I was in a cast for...I think it was 8 weeks total, and then a walking boot for about a month after that, and then another two months of PT.

25. Shower or bath?

Shower. Baths bother me. I know they’re supposed to feel relaxing but I can’t help feeling grossed. Maybe if I had like a super nice jacuzzi tub with like jets and enough space to really lounge and stretch it would feel better, but i’d prefer a shower anytime.

26. Last song you heard?

Papillion by The Airborne Toxic Event is playing right now. Does that count?

27. How many TV’s in your home?

One.

28. Worst pain?

When the nerve block wore off the second day after the aforementioned surgery. I was so out of it for the first like 20 hours that I was home that I really couldn’t feel a thing, but then all at once it was there and it was awful. I have a VERY high pain tolerance and I was just in tears.

29. Do you like to sing?

I do! I’m not very good but I do not give a single shit.

30. Are your parents still alive?

My father is. My mom passed away 9 years ago.

31. Do you like to go Camping?

I LOVE CAMPING. I want to camp every state. And I want to do a Canadian camping adventure sooooo badly.

32. What do you binge watch?

So, binge watching is the only way I watch anything anymore. So...everything I watch I watch all in one go. Most recent binge of something new (to me) and not something I’ve seen a million times was Hanna on Amazon Prime and I frickin loved it and I love Erik and I’m not okay.

33. Pumpkin or pecan?

Neither. Sweet Potato, not pumpkin (a new development) and Pistachio not Pecan. Replace the pecans with pistachios and voila.

34. A photo of yourself.

Ew. Okay, fine, but I look like absolute garbage right now so you’re getting one from like... two months ago:

Idk why I feel the need to stick my tongue out in so many pictures. Gosh I can’t take me anywhere.

#ugh now i've run out of things to procrastinate with #i guess that means i have to write #*throws small tantrum*#fiiiiiiiiiiine.#i love how I’m like “I look like trash here have this photo of me making a trash face

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mocharobin · 4 years

Text

I Got An Apple For You

AO3

It had taken them a while to meet up in Galar, it was Luka’s idea to have Marinette visit Galar. He greeted her in Wyndon, he saw how tired Marinette was from her flight, the poor girl was tuckered out. Perhaps a late brunch would help. The last minute coffee probably wasn’t a good idea. Since they now had to run to catch their train. Grabbing Marinette’s hand to pull her along. Running through the city before they finally saw wyndon station.

“We’re almost there!” Luka huffed out. Turning a bit to see how Marinette was doing. She looked a little out of breath, but nonetheless a smile was on her face.

They somehow managed to make it on the train. Catching their breath for a bit before they started searching for their seats. Placing their bags on the empty seats across from them. Sitting next to each other. During the ride, they talked about what was happening in their lives. Marinette talked about her recent visit to Sinnoh. The pokemon she met there and the places she visited. While Luka talked more about his family and the music he was producing with his band. That little adventure he had about a week ago he couldn’t tell her, not yet. Though he was pretty sure he still had a bump from it.

During the ride, Luka would point out places and Pokemon and explain some to Marinette. she asked questions which Luka could answer. Almost each time their shoulders would brush against each other, neither of them minded it.

Soon they arrived in Wedgehurst, before taking another train towards a small flying taxi station that would take them to the Isle of Armor.

Why the Isle of Armor? Because it has the best spots for stargazing. Marinette admitted to him, she liked to stargaze, but because of light pollution in the lumiose city. She could barely see them.

The isle of Armor was faraway from the coast of Galar,since it had only a few buildings scattered across the island, the stars there always luminated the sky.

Taking a glance at Marinette, he saw her leaning her head on her arms, staring at the sea. He could see a group of lapras migrating. Wingulls were flying near the taxi. The wailord that was dormant near the island could also be seen.

Once they were near the Island Luka could see the old couple who owned the dojo. If he had to guess his mother had to do something with it.

Taking Marinette’s hand to help her out of the flying taxi. Before walking to the back of the taxi, to grab her bag and his guitar case. Marinette was thanking Corviknight with a pat on its beak. The owner of the Corviknight was looking perplexed at the sight before him.

“That girl certainly has a way with pokemon” The man trailed off before adding “I mean, Corviknight barely let me pet it, let alone a stranger”

“The same thing happened with my Noivern, he instantly bonded with her” Luka said, an adorning smile on his face.

“Does this happen often?” the man asked him.

“Yeah, it does,” Luka answered. “I’m almost jealous, my team loves her more than they love me” Admitting it to the man. His pokemon adored Marinette, demanding pets whenever they met up. He knew his team loved him in their own special way.

“Best of luck lad,” The man gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Before Luka called Marinette, handing over the Marinette’s bag. They both waved at the man, leaving the station. Luka could now see the couple before him. The old man who was currently stroking his goatee, while his wife had her arms crossed.

“Luka, it’s good to see you” greeted the old man.

“It’s good to see you too, old man”

“Well, hello? And who are you, love?” A middle aged woman asked Marinette.

“My name’s ma-ma-Marinette” A little stammer came from Marinette, realizing someone was talking to her.

“It’s nice to meet you Marinette. My name is Honey and this is my husband Mustard” Honey introduced them to Marinette. Mustard had a big grin on his face, striking a pose. “I’m pleased as cheese that you could join us”

Marinette blinked a little, leaning her head sideways before greeting Mustard back “Cheesed to meet you”.

“Heh heh, I like her already, have fun on the isle dearie”

“If you need anything will be at the dojo” standing a bit sideways, pointing out the building to Marinette.

Saying goodbye to the couple. Luka and Marinette started making their way towards the Forest of Focus. Once they were in the clearing of the forest, they started to take out their camping gear.

Marinette was setting up the campfire and cooking pot, while Luka was busy setting up their tent. Their pokemon were either frolicking around, while a few were on a big pile napping against each other.

“So what do you normally eat when camping?”

“Curry mostly,” Luka answered, hammering down a peg into the ground.

“I thought it would have been something like Magicarp and chips”

“While delicious, it’s not easy to make while camping plus the clean up”

“Fair enough”

“I could help you make the curry” Luka offered to Marinette, “I would like that”.

Once Luka was done setting up the tent, he moved over to help Marinette. Discussing the ingredients to use for the curry with Marinette, deciding to use a variety of food items and berries.

The aroma made certain forest pokemon come out of their hiding spot. While their pokemon surrounded the cooking pot, a hungry look in their eyes. Once in a while having to push away a pokemon that got to close for comfort near the flames.

Once the curry was finished cooking. They started to plate up the food for their pokemon and themselves. Putting a few bowls down for the forest pokemon.

Luka could certainly cook but not on the level as Marinette. Marinette managed to cook alone once she had some instructions and somehow also managed to make packaged food taste good. But he should have expected it since after all she was a baker’s daughter.

“This tastes delicious Mari” complimenting her, while munching away on his curry, savoring the dish.

“Thanks Luka.”

After they finished eating and cleaning up everything. Luka and Marinette sat next against each other leaning against her Arcanine. To keep themselves cozy and warm. Fēng didn’t seem to mind that they were using him as a heater.

Alongside Marinette, he looked up at the sky. there were more stars visible than Luka had ever seen, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, more and more appeared with each fraction of a second he looked.

Taking a look at Marinette, he could see she had a look of awe on her face. He knew she could barely see the stars in Kalos. Her grey eyes darting from one side of the sky to the other, amazed with the innumerable stars.

Marinette would once in a while point out a constellation in the endless sky for him. Talking about old Kalosian and Sinnohian myths about a few of them. While Luka himself would chime in once in a while to add about Galarian myths. Reciting old stories to each other about them.

Sitting here, letting Marinette indulge in her love for stargazing. He wished he could take her here more frequently to have her be able to stargaze to her heart's content. But with the distance between them, with her in Kalos and himself in Galar. It was difficult. Of course they face-timed and sent messages whenever they could. But he wanted to be next to her, traveling with her. If he didn’t say or do anything right now, he knew it would be difficult to see each other again.

“Mari, I’m going to grab something real quick”

“Hmm” a little hum left Marinette.

Walking over to their bags, grabbing the gift he got for Marinette. Crouching down in front of her. Hiding one of his arms behind his back. Marinette looked at him, her eyes filled with curiosity, wide-eyed like that of a Wooloo.

“Here you go, Marinette,” Holding out his hand that was holding a pokeball. Marinette’s eyes darting to his face back to his hand.

“Wha-what is this?”

“It’s-It’s a pokemon” Luka clarified for her, scratching his neck before he pointed towards Marinette. “….For you”

“For me?”

“Now hold out your hand, it’s pretty small...” Marinette put her hands together to make a little cup. Luka pressed the button to release the pokemon inside. In a bright light the pokemon appeared in her hands. A green apple appeared in her hands. A confused look across Marinette’s face.

“I didn’t know you could catch apples”

“Look a little closer Mari”

A pair of eyes and tail popped out of the apple. Its gaze focused on Marinette. A gasp left Marinette. Luka’s hands embraced marinette’s, a fond look on his face.

“Marinette, t-there’s something I want you to know” Luka’s hands embraced marinette’s, rubbing circles with his thumbs against hers. A little squeak from Marinette. A blush across her face, while by him his ears became red.

Was Luka nervous? Yes. but Arceus, he wasn’t going to miss this chance.

“I got this applin for you, for a very good reason. You know what it means when someone gives you an Applin?” Luka asked. The small nod she gave him. She knew oh she knew.

“Marinette, you are very special to me and dear to my heart. Your melody has been playing inside my head since the first day we met. I want to play it on repeat and sing it from the rooftops of Lumiose city. I want to have so many adventures with you, explore everything there is to this world with you by my side,” He knew his face was bright red. Taking a deep breath, “Marinette I love you” Scratching his neck a little, his heart beating so loud in his ears. he looked up at Marinette seeing her face scarlet red.

“C-co-could I yes you?” Marinette asked him.

“Yes you?” Luka questioned Marinette.

“I-- I my--I mmean Could I kiss you? It seems easier to say yes but I really really want to kiss you”

Feeling like a massive weight had been lifted from his shoulders, Luka smiled.

“Mari, You already said yes” Letting out a small laugh before palming one Marinette’s cheeks, Leaning forward to place a kiss on her forehead. Luka leaned his forehead against Marinette’s. A fond smile directed at each other. Marinette gave Luka a small peck on the lips, It was a short and sweet kiss. she tried to hide her face in his hoodie.

“Thank you Marinette,” Stroking her hair before sitting next to her. Marinette leaned against him. The applin now on her lap.

“I got an apple for you,” He joked. Marinette nose scrunched up a little at the joke. “So what are you naming it?”

“I’m thinking of naming it Strudel,” She answered.

“That’s an adorable name”

He knew they would have similar nights together, for now he was content being by her side.

--Deleted scene--

Marinette : I thought you would have confessed with your guitar. Luka : I would've but I forgot to grab it...

Mustard : I have noticed that the Couffaines have a thing small people Luka : Shut up old man....

#lukanette #miraculous ladybug #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #Pokemon AU #I Got An Apple For You #lukanette endgame #ml fic #lukanette fic

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medea10 · 3 years

Text

Medea’s Worst Year of All-Time Anime/Game Superlative

Nobody saw this year coming…except for maybe Barbara Walters! Who could have predicted that this year would bless us with Australia burning, the entire west coast of the U.S. set on fire, stupid people setting fires because they wanted to reveal a baby’s gender, murder hornets, Ruth Bader Ginsburg dying, an almost war with Iran, serial killer mascots arrested, policemen killing unarmed black folks for having a counterfit $20, policemen killing unarmed black folks for breaking up a fight, policemen killing black folks for holding sandwiches, policemen killing unarmed black folks for fucking sleeping, a wide variety of “Karens” coming out of the woodworks, the end of Bojack, the end of Steven Universe, the end of Empire, and a pandemic so huge it’s killed the economy, canceled fun, and given the U.S. president the dumb-fuck idea of injecting bleach to kill the virus!?

SERIOUSLY, WHO COULD HAVE PREDICTED ALL OF THIS WAS GOING TO FALL IN OUR LAPS LIKE HOT COFFEE ON THE CROTCH?!

At least there was anime this year.

…

At least there was SOME anime this year.

…

Biden won the election and Vickeblanca came out with Black Catcher this year.

Hey internet, it’s Medea here to give you her trashy opinion on this years anime and games that she’s watched or played. Because for some reason, my loser-ass loves to do out-dated as fuck memes! I shouldn’t complain, this shit brings a lot of attention to my page every year when I do this. Yes, 2020 was a complete dumpster fire so large that Domestic Girlfriend is crying foul. Many of us had to go on lockdown and ended up binge-watching the entire 957+ episodes of One Piece. I did no such thing. I am one of those “essential workers” so I didn’t hunker down for 9 months straight. But when I was home, I was watching anime. Actually, I would have done that even without the pandemic. I’m an introvert and find the human race to be deplorable.

You all know how this goes. I go over the best this year had to offer me. I had to search really hard to find the good in this year, especially in the anime world. Many things had to be put on hiatus or were delayed to a later date. Just a reminder, I don’t discriminate in what year the anime or game came out. If something came out in the happier times of 2007, that anime or game counts! Let’s get at it!

First Fandom of 2020: Interspecies Reviewers

Did anyone expect a fan-favorite of 2020 was going to be a hentai? Did anyone have on their batshit 2020 bingo card that a hentai was going to grab everybody’s attention? At the beginning of the year, my mind was set on the Railgun sequel and Eizoken. It wasn’t until licensors, streaming sites, and TV stations in Japan dropped this series that I started to pay attention. And got immediately hooked! It’s about three men going to different brothels and reviewing their time with the ladies. And these ladies are of different species! So with every bang comes possible enlightenment, new kinks, or a night of having your dick sucked off more than humanly possible. This anime blew away all of my skepticism and first impressions right out the window. Maybe it’s because I’m a degenerate and am often curious about sexual content, but this was a guilty pleasure of mine this year.

Favorite Main Character of 2020: Moroha from Yashahime

I know the majority of this story is going to revolve around Towa and Setsuna, but can we please focus a little more energy on the spunky, quarter-demon girl?! I know they’re pitting Moroha as the comic relief, but I’m hopeful that she’s going to surprise us one day. We fans of InuYasha would spend the past decade and some change wondering what InuYasha and Kagome’s daughter would be like. This year, we got our answer with Moroha. She’s got this wild side to her, probably due to the fact that she’s spent her entire life on her own. And while she’s silly at times, she can get down to business in a pinch. She has her father’s sense of smell. She has a sword. She’s able to shoot sacred arrows much like her mother. And to top it all off, she has this special rouge that if she puts it on, she’s able to unleash that ¼ demon power inside her and become Beniyasha! Yeah, I know the power only lasts a minute, she’s only 14, give her a break! I will gladly go through another week scratching my head at the confusion this story gives me if I get to see one more second of Moroha and her crazy antics or her bad-ass slaying.

Favorite Villain of 2020: The Devil Believers from Black Clover

This was one hell of a year for Black Clover. It would have been an easy choice to pick the devil and possible super devil that appeared during the elf fight. But I’d like to give a nod to the filler arc villains. And you can’t blame this group for wanting the power of the devil. They’re literally the bottom-rung of the Clover Kingdom and ones with little to no power or mana. So I can agree with why they would want the power of the devil. For one thing, they’d have more power. And for another thing, they’d be able to exact revenge on those who have wronged them. On some occasions I agree with exacting revenge and when it comes to the nobles and some characters in Black Clover, some folks do deserve death. I mean, have you met the king of the Clover Kingdom? Plus, this town and many other poorer towns get looked over by the kingdom. Peasant uprise! Anyways, I thought these people were really crafty in their crimes. I mean, they were able to knock Asta out on his ass with specially made poisons. I was actually hooked to this story of Black Clover (despite it being a filler arc). I know we’ll never see them again as they have been exiled, but it did have me semi-rooting for them.

Favorite Video Game Character of 2020: Honey from Pokemon – Sword & Shield (Expansion Pass)

Sorry Raymond from Animal Crossing!

Honey is the saucy wife of Mustard…I did not expect that to come out the way it did, but here we are! She has one hell of a team you can fight once a day. She looks out for her husband, the dojo, and the students of the dojo like they were her own children by providing food, drinks, and others. However that does come at a price as you do have to give up a sizable chunk of your watts that you collect in raid dens. I’m sure a bunch of MILF chasers were more than happy enough to give her all their hard-earned watts just so they can have their one-on-one moment on the beach with Honey.

What won me over was when that one guy from a rival dojo bad-mouthed her husband’s dojo and she…I think she kicked this guy’s ass herself. I don’t think she used any of her pokemon. Game Freak won’t show it, but we all know she kicked this guy’s ass to a point where he’s begging for mercy.

Honey, for the win!

Favorite Game of 2020: Animal Crossing New Horizons

This game was just Zen for me. I know the release of this game came with some controversy like Gamestop saying it’s an essential business and will remain open for people to get their copies of the game. Hell, I was one of those assholes in line waiting to get a copy on March 20th. Did I predict that a pandemic was going to rage out of control when I got a prepay copy of this for Christmas 2019? NO! I only predict political things, not deadly pandemics! The good news, we social distanced, didn’t catch the covid and got the game.

Anyways, this game has been a non-stop calming and fun ride. I can even forgive their botch-up of Bunny Day. They even have events for holidays I never thought they would ever touch. I mean, does anybody know when Museum Day is? Probably not until Animal Crossing had an event for it! I’ve been able to let my freak-flag fly with designing my island. And this goes way beyond New Leaf for the 3DS. I can make a sign post with the words “Fuck Trump” on it and post it in my yard. I can dig up trees and plant them elsewhere. I can poop in a toilet. I can craft furniture and put my own design on it. My furniture can have Tracey Sketchit’s beautiful mug on it. I can sit on Tracey Sketchit’s face. I am a sick fuck and I don’t care. I can give Raymond and Bob maid outfits. Magical time in my game! My hopes for next year…I don’t know, get the Festivale furniture, get Papi and Olivia to join my island, maybe visit Danny Trejo’s island, who knows, sky’s da limit!

Favorite Het Couple of 2020: Nasa and Tsukasa Yuzaki from Tonikawa

This is one of the most unorthodox marriages I’ve ever seen. But in this 90 Day Fiance world we’re living in, I shouldn’t pass judgement on these two getting married in episode one and not knowing much about each other. Nasa meets Tsukasa as he was about to be plowed by a truck. Tsukasa saves his life. Nasa says she’s beautiful. Tsukasa says she’ll be his girlfriend if they get married. He agrees. She disappears. Four years later, Tsukasa appears in front of Nasa’s front door with a marriage registration form. Congratulations buddy, you’ve got yourself a waifu! In some way, this felt like watching Yamato and Takeo from My Love Story. I was fascinated with them progressing through their relationship. The only difference is that Yamato and Takeo took the old-fashioned route. This couple did everything ass-backwards in terms of having a relationship. But I couldn’t take my eyes off Nasa and Tsukasa’s relationship during each episode. I find them cute.

Favorite Yuri Couple of 2020: Karin Asaka x Emma Verde from Love Live Nijigasaki High School Idol Club

AAAAAAAAAH! I’M IN IDOL HELL AGAIN! Yeah, no kidding! I came this close to putting Miu x Nicole from that abomination 22/7. But thank God for Love Live! There’s no telling if any of the girls from the Love Live franchise are confirmed to be lesbians. But fuck it, all of them attend all-girl schools, no males exist anywhere, and Sunshine gave us Kanan x Mari! Yeah, you know Kanan and Mari is canon as fuck, don’t at me. So naturally, I found more third-years to ship in the new Love Live series. Now I know I should have put up Ai x Rina or Ayumu x Yuu. Especially the latter due to recent events! But Emma x Karin is my OTP.

Now Emma is an exchange student from Switzerland and in coming to Nijigasaki, she first meets Karin and they became instant friends. When Emma said she wants to become an idol, Karin helped her quite a bit. Even though Karin had no interest in being an idol as her modeling career is starting up, Karin would occasionally help Emma out. And surprise, surprise, Karin ends up fascinated with the idol world and Emma helps her come to the light to be herself there. Okay, I’m totally reading this in some fragmented way, but I’m currently playing Love Live School Idol Festival All Stars and the app game has a lot more stuff involving stuff the anime has yet to talk about. Confirmed or not, Karin x Emma for the win!

Favorite Yaoi Couple of 2020: Eiji Okumura x Ash Lynx from Banana Fish

It took me a while to get here, but I finally made it to 2018’s overlooked gem. Forgive me for not being fully caught up, but from what I’m watching at the moment, I’m sticking to my guns and supporting the hell out of this. I mean, I could have mentioned The Titan’s Bride here…but fuck no, I ain’t goin’ down that mess! Ash has gone through a lot, I mean a helluva lot in his past. His cute boy looks have made him a target on the streets of New York, with mafia dons, and with prison inmates. But dude can kill if you mess with him. Then you have Eiji, who is just a literal example of a “pure cinnamon roll (until episode 8)”. These two are as opposite as you can possibly get. Ash is from New York and Eiji is from Japan. Ash likes hot dogs with everything on it. Eiji likes grilled fish and natto. Ash spent the majority of his life killing on the streets. Eiji was a track superstar. You get my meaning. But when we got these two together it’s quite adorable. Ash is really able to change when he’s around Eiji. Ash isn’t some heartless killer on the street about to kill a thug with prosthetic fingers. When he’s with Eiji, he’s a joker that can easily get scared of pumpkins. And even in later episodes, you got these two acting like a husband and wife.

Fandom That You Didn’t Expect to Get Into: Les Miserables – A Girl Named Cosette

Let me explain a little something. Les Mis! I have never seen the play, watched the movie, or read the novel prior to picking up this anime. Not a single one of those! And that’s a bit of a head-scratcher when you realize I was a bit of a musical theater nut in my teenage years. But one thing I do like is when Japan does an anime based on plays or historical events (like Romeo x Juliet or Rose of Versailles). The second I popped in Les Miserables the anime, I wanted to binge watch the whole 52 episode series. It is by no means a perfect adaptation of the Victor Hugo novel. Several key players end up surviving all the way up to the end of the story! But because this was my very first viewing of anything Les Mis, I took to the story of Cosette and was eager to see what was going to happen next in her tale. Unlike the movies and play, Cosette was the main focus of the story besides Jean Valjean and Javert. And thanks to watching the unfortunate stories of Cosette, Jean Valjean, the Thenadiers, Javert, Marius, and the rest, I thought it was time to watch the OTHER adaptations to Les Mis.

…

Russell Crowe sucks.

Fandom That Made An Unexpected Comeback: Higurashi no Naku Koro Ni

Higurashi or When They Cry is one of my favorite fandoms of all time! So naturally when we heard that it was making a comeback, I was excited. It was also very odd that Higurashi was given this sequel or reboot. Ahem! There’s another franchise that needs a face-lift. Umineko still deserves a better treatment. Plus, now that this series was out of the faulty hands of Studio Deen, Higurashi will get the special care it deserves. Believe it or not, it wasn’t just the anime that made a comeback for me, but the manga as well. Since 2009, I’ve read several volumes (out of order) and would every now and then come back to read the story. Back to the anime, this reboot or sequel…you know what, I’m gonna call it a “rebooqual”! This rebooqual sucked me back to the town of Hinamizawa and all the murders. Every week, I find myself comparing the current episode to one from the 2006 version. But then the fourth episode of each arc seems to catch me off guard.

Where are they going with this story and these twist endings to our favorite arcs? I did not expect Rena to turn a simple attempted murder into the end of School Days! I didn’t expect Rika to die in the most disgusting fashion they could think of. Could someone kill Teppei fucking Hojo? I will pay ¥5000 for someone to do that job. So yeah, because I know how much of this plays out and who does what, I’m usually watching and reading while making wise-ass remarks. But I still have fun with it.

Fandom That Inspired the Most Crack: Konosuba

In a year where I caught up with the popular Isekais like Shield Hero and Re:Zero, I found the wacky misadventures of Kazuma Satou to be amusing as all get-out. From the first 5 minutes, I found myself laughing at Kazuma’s misfortune. Seriously, how the fuck do you mistake a tractor for a car, have a heart attack, piss yourself, and fucking die in the first couple minutes to the series? You can only get away with this shit in gag animes! But it’s not just Kazuma’s dumbass, there’s a mage who only does explosions, but loses all her energy after one blow-up. Then there’s a busty, blonde who gets turned on by getting hurt and can’t strike anything with her sword. Anime’s biggest masochist or Cheryl Tunt incarnate, I haven’t decided which one to believe! Then you have this loud, crazy goddess chick named Aqua. She’s also useless about 86% of the time! Watching their unfortunate missions is all the crack that I need to get through this year. Seriously, Darkness is just all kinds of fucked up, but we love her.

Last Fandom of 2020: Yashahime

That’s right, the InuYasha sequel gets top spot here! Even though week after week I find myself asking more questions than when the episode started, I’m still hooked. If you’re like me, you watched and fell in love with the series InuYasha. So if they’re doing a sequel, you’re expecting to see all of your favorite characters from the prequel like InuYasha, Kagome, Miroku, Sango, Sesshomaru, Koga, Rin, and the rest. Actually, no! Quite the opposite! We’ve got Sesshomaru’s daughters, but no Sesshomaru. Rin is sleeping in a tree we think! We’ve got InuYasha and Kagome’s daughter, but they’re M.I.A. None of the girls even know a thing about their birth parents.

Now are these new characters a catch like the ones from the previous series? Some are! The three main girls, yes! Especially Moroha! I’ve already praised her name earlier in the superlative. Towa and Setsuna do take on some personality traits from their parents. Setsuna is definitely serious like Sesshomaru and Towa sometimes has a carefree yet loyal aura to her like Rin. I know I’m always skeptical when a series gives us a sequel featuring the offspring of the main characters. Especially when you’ve got some lame examples like Boruto and Eureka Seven AO (I might retract my diss on Boruto later)! As each week gives us a new episode, we’re unraveling new clues into a lot of things involving our old favorite characters, as well as the new ones. So I have high hopes for Yashahime for the time being!

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dashboardcat · 3 years

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I Try One of Everything at Salt City Market (Part 2)

Remember like 3 weeks ago when I did a write-up of a food hall in my hometown, guaranteed to attract the attention of like, 2 people? Well, it’s time for more of that!

Attempt #1

While there wasn’t a line outside this time, the market itself seemed just as busy as it was the day after the grand opening. I also tried to make a point to take in more of the decor, but I don’t think I really have anything new to add other than the fact that I watched not one but two people struggle to stuff the big paper bags their food came in into the trendy, tiny-opening trash cans. More importantly, I forgot that like, half of the stands are closed on Mondays, meaning I would have to come back another time to finish my quest.

ERMA’S ISLAND- Jerk Pork (half portion)- $10

I want to say right off the bat that of all the things I’ve tried from this market, this was hands down the best smelling. And thankfully, the pork pretty much tasted as good as it smelled. It was tender and juicy, and the sauce was complex, with a good amount of heat that didn’t overpower the other flavors. The rice and beans that it came with, on the other hand, was a little bland, but that’s nothing that mixing the sauce into can’t fix.

Unfortunately, I can never show my face there again, because when the cashier asked me if I wanted the half or whole portion, I said “Yeah,” and made her repeat herself like 3 times.

MAMMA HAI- “Marco Polo” Banh Mi- $10

Yes, that’s pepperoni on a banh mi.

The roll was nice and crusty, and to be honest, that’s like 90% of what makes a good sandwich for me. Unfortunately, the pickled veggies and cilantro (and this blog is pro-cilantro, get over yourselves, haters) sort of overpowered the pepperoni and the char siu pork, which is a shame because I wanted that pepperoni to shine. If this was a $5 banh mi, I wouldn’t have a problem with that, but at $10 I would have liked a little more meat, or at least for the already existing meat to make its presence felt. The pate and mayo kinda also get lost, but do present a bit of richness in about every other bite (and, for another controversial sandwich opinion, I don’t necessarily think that every bite of a sandwich has to have an even distribution of everything, otherwise the flavors sort of just blur together after a while). Overall, it’s a fairly decent sandwich, but left me longing for something more. They also have a curry chicken banh mi, maybe that one has a better balance of flavor.

CAKE BAR- Locus Cake- $6.50

One thing about Cake Bar that isn’t made apparent by looking at their stand is that, according to their website, it’s meant to resemble a Vietnamese cafe. In hindsight, this kinda explains the wide variety of specialty teas (specialteas, if you will) they also had available.

The chocolate cake was moist and had little crispy bits running throughout it. At first, I thought it was eggshells, because I’m an idiot and always assume the worst. After picking out an especially large chunk, I realized it was broken up bits of Biscoff cookies! (Further research has shown me that the parent company that makes Biscoff cookies is called Locus, thus, y’know, the name of the cake. Probably should have put that together sooner, it literally says “Locus” on the cookie, one of which was lodged into the top of the cake.) The buttercream was surprisingly light, and the caramel on top had the perfect consistency, gooey enough to stay put but not so gooey that it turned into a stringy mess after running your fork through it. The only negative thing I really have to say about the all-around experience was that the box they used made it kind of difficult to get the slice out of it (as you can see, I ended up just tearing the sides up).

Attempt #2

Since the market is relatively close to my work, I figured I would drop by after work one day to bang out the rest of the list.

BAGHDAD RESTAURANT- Beef Shawarma- $6.99

At first, I laughed to myself upon seeing it in one of those gas station sub bags. The laughing faded pretty quickly, though, upon seeing it was, in fact served on a sub roll. I'm not a shawarma expert. maybe that can be an acceptable way to eat it? The beef was well spiced and that perfect sweet spot between tender and still having something to sink your teeth into. Unfortunately, that’s more or less where my compliments end. What little sauce the menu promised (just called “sauce,” don’t ask me what it is) has soaked into the bread and completely disappeared, making the whole thing somewhat dry and lackluster. Also, they didn’t cut it, which was fine with the heartier banh mi’s baguette but with the softer sub roll didn’t have the structural integrity to be picked up whole without a struggle. My biggest gripe with it is mostly on me, though, as the juice from the pickles tainted most of it with pickle stank, which could have been avoided entirely if I had just ordered it without.

SOULUTIONS- Mustard and Berbere Fried Chicken ($6) and FIRE MAC ($4)

(Note- the $6 order of chicken comes with 2 of these chicken cutlets, but I carelessly ate one before taking the picture.)

I do want to clear the air here and say that yes, I did accidentally order fried chicken and mac and cheese from both of the soul food places. I was originally going to get the burger, at my friend’s recommendation, but the menu board by the register suspiciously didn’t have the burger on it, so I panicked and ordered the fried chicken again.

While the breading was stained yellow from mustard, the honey mustard taste was very subtle. I also have to admit to not knowing off the top of my head what berbere (I had to google it, it’s an Ethiopian spice blend) tastes like, so i can't tell you if this tasted like that. But, despite not being especially strong in either of the namesake seasonings, it definitely is a flavorful piece of chicken nonetheless. Flavors work that way sometimes.

The Fire Mac may not have delivered as strongly on cheese as I may have liked, but it definitely did deliver on the fire, drizzled with a tangy buffalo-esque sauce. And Topped with crumbled bits of fried chicken skins? Can’t go wrong with that.

JUICE AND FLOWERS- “Root | 12” Juice- $8

Misleading name, I didn’t see any flowers anywhere. Zero stars.

The beet and lemon were the most pronounced of the flavors, with the ginger lingering on the palate and, unsurprisingly, the apple and carrot mostly being there to round the whole thing out. The employee that waited on me was very passionate and knowledgeable about the juice, informing me that 2 pounds of produce had gone into this little bottle, and that it’d have a shelf life of 3-5 days. Which is good, because I put it back in the fridge after I got home to chill it back down, and then proceeded to forget about it for 3 days. It’s also a very thick and hearty juice, so it doesn’t feel that weird to only want to drink half a bottle in one sitting and, y’know, make this $8 bottle of juice last a little longer.

Attempt #3

Knowing fully well that I was going to have a long night shift ahead of me, I decided to check out the Coffee Bar side of the market for what would be my third trip over the course of 5 days. I feel like I should also point out that the Coffee Bar, as its name literally breaks down as, serves coffee during the day and a full bar at night. I also noticed during this visit that the Coffee Bar has a patio seating area under construction, cheesy string lights and all, that I am looking forward to.

Fruity Pebbles Latte- $6

Against my best judgement, I got it “for here” for the sake of the pic, even though a.) I had to break my rule of not eating in places because this fucking pandemic isn’t over yet and b.) I was nervous about being late for work the whole time (I did, in fact, get there on time). As I waited, I could see their secret recipe fruity pebbles milk sitting on the counter. It was, in fact, fruity pebbles and milk.

I didn’t really think the Fruity Pebbles would work with the espresso, having had been burned before by places that just dump them onto things with no regard of the flavor profile just for the sake of the burst of color. But, somehow… it did work. Maybe it’s because cereal milk is never quite as strong as some might hope, but the subtle fruitiness of the milk played well with the chocolatey notes in the espresso. The espresso itself probably also had the best crema on it that I’ve ever seen on a latte (and yes, I had to google the pretentious espresso-snob term for the foam that floats to the top).

Also shoutout to the pour over, which on their menu board is priced at "4-ish"

I’m so glad I’m living with my parents again at the moment. Otherwise, this whole thing would’ve been like, a month’s worth of my food budget.

#food #restaurant reviews #salt city market

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